These are Zours

We have cases of the stuff in storage in order for you, the PXY listener, to sample at various events this summer.  Unfortunately, there may not be any left for you.  You see, Zours are a delicious candy treat that are a cross between Mike and Ike and Sour Patch Kids, and I am convinced they are laced with narcotics.  I CAN’T STOP EATING THEM!

If I come across a little hyper, now you know why.  I’m all hopped up on The Z, and it may be time for an intervention.

Last year I ran the Rochester Half-Marathon. Naturally, progression would have me running the full marathon in September. I’ve been training for some weeks now and have decided…Rather than run the marathon, I shall ruin the marathon.

I mean, what’s easier? Running 26.2 miles on a Sunday morning, or practicing handing out cups of vinegar to the race front runners?

Don’t get me wrong, ruining a marathon will be hard work. Chipping potholes throughout the course with a pickax is labor intensive. But endurance ruining is all about pushing through the pain.

My training starts bright and early with a full breakfast of espresso, some diet pills, and a small bag of rock candy. It keeps me edgy and volatile when I’m in the thick of disrupting a tight race. Also—and I can’t stress this enough—it’s very important to stretch properly before and after yelling derogatory remarks at Kenyans. You don’t want your legs cramping up on the way to the escape route.

After you’ve been ruining a marathon for a couple hours, your body will just take over and you won’t even realize that you’re spoiling the day for everyone. I call that getting in the “ruiner’s zone.” It’s like my arms and legs could just keep dumping buckets of cooking oil off a 490 overpass forever. When you get there, more than ever, it’s important to keep focused and not let your mind wander. You’ve got a lot of race to wreck, and you’ve got to keep your mind sharp for what’s coming up ahead.

It’s good to make a checklist in my mind, so I don’t get distracted on race day. Are there any cables or streamers around that I can use as trip wires? Do I hip-check the guy in front of me or stop abruptly and trip up the three people behind?

If I make all the right decisions, and really push myself, I could ruin this marathon in record time.

I’ve been setting small, manageable goals for myself, starting with printing out “Marathon Continues to the Right” signs and pasting them up by the on-ramp to the interstate. Once I’m comfortable with that, I’ll work my way up to a larger goal, like loading up on carbs and dairy so I can vomit all over the finish line.

Race day is coming. No more excuses. No more letting my own fears, or Sandy’s sobbing pleas, or the combined efforts of city and state law enforcement agencies get in the way of me accomplishing my goal. No, sir. Not this time.

I’ve trained too hard for that.

Maybe you’ve heard me talk about my Blackberry on the air before. I love my phone. I have everything on it. I don’t go as far as calling it my “Crackberry” because I can unplug every night when I get home and on the weekends with no issues.

One are of concern is when I come into work everyday. I have a habit of checking my Blackberry for new e-mails as I walk down the steps from the parking garage.

My heads down, and I may walk a bit slower as to not fall down a flight of stairs. Well, today I became “that guy”. I never realized that my e-mail checking habit can potentially slow down members of our society from starting their miserable day.

I got to the bottom of the stairs today and the guy behind me rushes by me and threw an obscenity under his breath my way.

Wha, what? Really? I slowed you down to the point where you have to voice your displeasure with me under your breath? Oh, and this guy had a greezy pony tail. Like I need this? Like I need a verbal lashing from Steven Seagal over here?

This is Tila Tequila…

She is, IMHO, a 4 ft. tall, Gremlin-faced hooker.  If you’re a fan of hers, we can’t be friends.  Sorry.  I have to draw the line somewhere.

Let’s analyze how she got popular, shall we?  Tila had A LOT of friends on Myspace back in, say 2005.  Not really “friends” though, just people she would request and accept all day long.  Not the kind of people she would be able to sit back and reminisce about the good times they’ve had.

And that’s it.  That’s her redeeming quality.  Virtual popularity.  Have you heard her music? It’s like listening to cats being boiled.  Not that I know, or even can imagine what that sounds like, but you get the idea…

So having all these “friends” got Tila noticed.  Virtual popularity has given this no talent trollup recognition to the point where she’s on MTV every 5 minutes.   I mean it.  Every. 5.  Minutes.

And every time her show,”A Shot at Love” is on, I can’t help but read it as, “Asshat Love”.  Because that’s what my brain tells me she is…an asshat.

All that being said, I’d hit it.

With a garbage truck.

Might be the worst design for a carousel.  EVER.

I can’t wait until they come up with the 2 Girls, 1 Teacup ride.