tennis

I’m a sensitive sort of chap on the whole, my emotional intelligence is of high quality. True.

It seems to me there’s a bit of a malaise around the traps at the moment with work. By “around the traps” I mean myself, Em and Andrew but there are probably more. It probably has to do with coming to work in January, when heaps of people are away and nothing much happens.

You sit around, thumbs a-twiddling, blogging four times a day and desperately hoping for it all to be over.

Sweet, sweet retirement. Andrew has a figure in mind – 12 years – and Em thinks 25 will do it for her.

The sad thing is, by the time Em and I get to retirement age it’ll be somewhere around 85.

It doesn’t apply to me though. I have a premonition I’m going to be one of those people who end up being found rigor-mortified by the side of the tan after an un-timely heart attack, mid-Anderson Street.

In ten years time, look for a body in the bushes opposite that girls school. If it’s a male in his early 40s, that’ll be me. Don’t bother calling the ambulance. Tag me and bag me.

Either that, or I’ll get shot. I always expected to get shot at some time in my life, probably in the thigh. I’m not sure that would kill me.

Enough of this morbid stuff. Moving on…

Tennis
All this retirement speculation would have been completely idle if I had taken up a career as a tennis professional. They have a good life, I tell you. They get paid millions, have heaps of kids running around after them handing them balls and fluffy towels.

I should have been a pro-tennis player. I have the ideal temperament, although it’s a shame about the physique, athleticism and hand-eye-coordination. Oh well.

This all comes to mind as I spent an enjoyable afternoon today at the Kooyong Classic, watching the final. Marat Safin got a big hand, presumably because he’s a bit of a spunk (or so my wife tells me). Marcos Baghdadis got a big hand, presumably because he’s Greek (not sure if he’s a spunk too).

Andy Roddick was a petulant little brat even though he won easily. Perhaps he was upset that someone called him “A-Rod”. How embarrassing.

Gear
I picked up a camelback thing at Anaconda this morning. It wasn’t actually a camelback, just a cheap knock-off, but I don’t mind. I just want to try it out.

Running
No running today, but I have a nice long one mapped out tomorrow. Lots of hills, not much access to water. A good chance to test the dromedary-back, or whatever it’s called.

daredevil

Rest easy dear reader: this isn’t about Daredevil, the movie with Ben “Mr Charisma” Affleck. Not at all, it’s all about Robbie Maddison. Robbie, if you didn’t know, is the guy who just set the world record for longest motorbike jump in, naturally, Las Vegas:

Aussie jumps for joy at record bike leap

I’m all for this particular form of stupidity. If people want to launch themselves 100 metres up in the air on a motorbike, I say go for it. Why not? Just let know in advance so I’m not standing underneath.

Robbie’s going to give it another go in a few weeks, this time at Calder park, which strikes me as an ideal place to plunge to a fiery death. That being said, I must say this quote concerned me a bit:

“There is no doubt in my mind that if this next jump doesn’t work out it will be death.”

Death for who? Does he have a temper? If he falls short by a metre or so, will he strangle the cat? The article doesn’t elaborate.

Suffice to say, the whole event should be fraught with interest. It could be almost as messy as the Guns n Roses concert.

Running
I’m back at work, life is returning to normality, and all is good. A few laps of the tan were in order, and duly delivered. I took the long way there and back and ended up with 13.75km in 55 minutes. Not bad.

Schadenfreude
A few people who shall remain nameless have very helpfully pointed out some errors in recent posts. Some people, for example jojo and Jaykay, might argue along the lines of “don’t dish it out if you can’t take it” or words to that effect.

That clearly doesn’t apply in this case. Just like the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, this blog cannot hope to be useful or informative on all matters but it does make the reassuring claim that where it is inaccurate, it is at least definitively inaccurate. In cases of major discrepancy it is always reality that’s got it wrong.

So there.

Altona
I note our Acting Prime Minister, Ms Gillard has moved the seat of power from Canberra to Altona. Canberra one day, Altona the next, our country gets to visit the most interesting places….

Tip of the week
From Viz.co.uk:

WHEN cooking spaghetti, tie all the ends together. That way you can eat it in one long suck, eliminating the drudgery of washing up knives and forks.
Johnny Schott, Hackney

Why didn’t I think of that?

what a way to go

I don’t know if you saw this online today, a tragic story:

Woman dies after eating dim sim

On the rare occasions I eat a dim sim, I want to die too. Chiko rolls, pies at the footie and strangely, anything involving bananas all have the same effect.

can you buy endorphins?

Em over at Running all over the place has a special place on this blog. It’s over on the right and down a bit. She even merited a mention in the body of my post yesterday. Now, I don’t like to be seen to be criticising one of my blogging colleagues, but her post yesterday comes under the category of “cruel mockery”.

I felt so great after yesterday’s run, it was a great session and I was still buzzing today. Now if only I could figure out to bottle that I’d never have to work again 🙂

The post title is can you sell endorphins?

Yairs, well. If she’s selling, I’m buying.

This morning’s run was almost totally lacking in endorphins, or any other type of phins. It was a miserable experience, to tell the truth.

It was 12k, with the last 4k at a “steady” pace. I fell over the doorstep after an hour of dragging my sorry behind around the streets. Note the use of the words “fell”, “dragging” and “sorry behind”. I hope my choice of words gives you a hint of how I was feeling. I do try to use the mot juste wherever possible.

Anyway, I got home from my run and just felt like death. Not death-warmed-over. I didn’t have the energy for warming anything. Just death. And the worst thing was I have a very full day at work today. Great.

Am I sick? Nah, just tired. The smallest member of our house was a bit vocal last night. Very vocal.

Gosh I need some sleep.