The Definition of Awesome

I was running by the river this afternoon, not feeling very well but still, you know, doing the jogging thing because "it's good for you." Really, though, I felt quite mopey and gross despite the beautiful weather and all the flowers and greenery that have suddenly exploded everywhere. AND THEN...you know when you put a bunch of songs that someone has given you on your ipod but you don't really pay attention to all the titles and half the time you're like, GAH THIS SONG IS AWFUL? No? Okay, just me then. Anyway, so there I was chugging sadly along, when out of my earphones comes the most amazing thing that has ever come out of those earphones. The theme to the A-Team.

And suddenly, I wasn't just having a jog by the river. I was having the most EPIC JOG EVAR. I wanted to high-five a mother-loving swan and pole vault the bridge. I'm glad I didn't happen to find a really long branch, or probably would have broken my idiot neck. I'm serious, the A-Team theme = aural steroids.

Maybe it's a concussion, maybe not.

Know what's never, ever going to be a good idea? 3 a.m., self-administered haircuts. Cause even if that bad boy turns out okay, which, let's just acknowledge this now, is like finding bran flakes that taste of Cap'n Crunch, you still end up with the 4 a.m., after-hair-cut clean-up.

So, yeah, one would think that after mumble mumble years, I would have learned that despite what my brain keeps telling me, I should never touch a pair of scissors/razor blade after about, oh, midnight. I cut my own hair all the time, being too cheap to pay a salon at least 40 quid for what usually turns out to be about 5 minutes of work. Usually, the results are perfectly passable, sometimes even venturing into the territory of aesthetically pleasing. Sometimes, I have to wear a hat for a few weeks. But, ye cats and gods, I can not think of one time when I picked up the scissors after midnight and woke up the next day thinking, Boy OH BOY, that was a good idea.

Tonight's little foray hasn't changed that. I may have given myself a mohawk. And a concussion. How do you get a concussion from cutting your own hair? Well, it being 3 in the morning, you just happen to forget that turning the water off in the shower results in the shower head falling off the wall (because you live in a shared house where the landlord can't be arsed to come and fix a damn thing) and smacking yourself in the back of your recently shorn noggin because you are leaning over the taps.

Now I'm too scared to go to sleep just in case it actually is concussion. I feel all tingly and weird, which could be the result of seeing my new haircut in the mirror just now, or it could be because I'm bleeding in the brain meat. Guess I'll find out soon.

On the list of stupid things I have done in my life, starting a 10k run when already very hungry doesn't even make it into the top 50 but that's only because I have pulled some really bone-headed stunts. Still, it's a rookie mistake and when I've been running as long as I have, I really should know better. Today's run was a fail, not an epic fail because I finished and didn't die but I was running along and could actually see the health bar in my head (because the inside of my head is a video game) draining. And a big fucking duck (possibly one of the ones from Duck Hunt) flew across my path, and the meter jumped back up from the AGH-I'M-GOING-TO-BE-IMPALED-BY-A-DUCK adreneline boost. Of course, as soon as that wore off, after approximately 17.5 seconds, I felt even more tired which, of course, was when a giant gnat decided to see what was happening in my oesophagus. YAY GAGGING AND SPITTING TIME!

So, yeah, that was my day.

Setting myself up to fail...again.

I'm making enchiladas for ten people tonight because I am a pushover. Nevermind the fact that paying for all the food used more than half of my weekly food budget or that I've never made enchiladas before. I'm going to cook the fuck out of these things and they will be the best effing enchiladas that anyone has ever tasted. Well, maybe not my Spanish housemate. She's probably had much better enchiladas. But, everyone else will be all, "Oh my god, it's like angels are coming in my mouth."

And then I will smile beatifically and act surprised, as if I didn't know that I was the most awesome cook in the world.

Shit yeah, Enchiladas.