baby, baby

The early part of this week seemed to have been dominated, blog-wise, by misplaced nostalgia for various hair bands of the 80s and 90s. It got to the point on Wednesday night when I woke, sweating, from a nasty dream involving Marshall stacks, leather pants, and Yngwie Malmsteen. I can’t remember the details, thankfully, but it left a nasty taste in the mouth.

So I did the sensible thing, took a day off blogging and spent the time instead fulfilling the duties for which I am paid a modest stipend, ie. work.

I’m back today, refreshed, and ready to do my daily couple of hundred words.

Running
18k this morning on my usual Dandenong Creek Trail route. The mornings are getting increasingly dark these days, especially right in the shadow of Mt Dandenong where I am. I must confess the talk of assaults on runners in Brisbane and this thread on the Ausrun forum freaks me out a bit, even though most attacks seem to be on women.

The alarm went off at 5 this morning, and as I turned it off I said “I can’t bothered baby, I’m not going”. I then lay in bed for 5 minutes feeling guilty and slack until I got up and went out anyway.

And I’m glad I did, it’s nice to watch the sun come up on the morning run.

Goofy theory for today
The bit above reminded me of one of my favourite goofy theories. Which bit? The bit when I called my other half “baby”. Anyway, I have this theory that there are only ever 5 or 6 men on the planet at one time who can call a woman “baby” and not sound like either a complete sleaze or the world’s biggest dickhead.

Bob Dylan could do it for a few years in the mid 60s. Elvis probably could. Patrick Swayze tried it for a movie in the 80s and that didn’t turn out too well. I am definitely not one of those 5 men.

Which just goes to show you - what goes on in the Jruns bedroom should stay in the Jruns bedroom.

Have a good weekend, and good running.