Jitterbug's Beat

I'm Walkin', Yes Indeed.

So awhile ago when I started this new job, I agreed, (under duress) to be part of the Portland to Coast Marathon - a walking relay that begins here in downtown Portland, and goes all day and all night, and into the next day ... until your team reaches the coast, Seaside, Oregon.  Seems like a good idea at first, sure!  New job, new friends, go TEAM!  Honestly I was ready to write some serious snark here about it, but truly, now that it's over, I must say it wasn't really that bad a'tall.  The venture started on Thursday evening - the team met for carb-load dinners at the Spaghetti Factory, plus wine - lots of wine, in both verbal and liquid-form.  We were to meet downtown at 6AM to decorate the vans and prepare for the next 32+ hours. 

How to prepare?  That night, I still had to pack, iron, wash, dry, shop, prep, and snooze.  I flew through my packing list which went something along the lines of.. oh, everything you could possibly think of out of your bathroom cupboards, plus the kitchen sink.  Take all those items, plus all your gear, clothes, blanket, book, Advil, etc., and attempt a clown-car maneuver with your backpack.  Just keep stuffing, keep stuffing, keep stuffing.  Then forget what you stuffed.  Then prepare to unzip the trembling load - make sure you're wearing protective eye gear, or standing at least 30 feet away, 'cause it's gonna blow.  Do this a minimum of five times before you give up, curse, stomp around, and say eff this, if it isn't in there, I don't need it! 

Then, go to the store.  You're tired, you're hurried, and you're a little stressed out.  This is by far the BEST time to be surrounded by goodies in a grocery store.  (Here's the sarcasm folks, try to keep up.)  Buy these things: Peanut Butter.  White bread.  Strawberry jam.  Honey.  Oreos.  Smarties.  Gobstoppers.  Pringles.  Now go home and make an entire loaf of sandwiches out of these items (although some you may want to just keep on the side).  You do this, thinking that your teammates maybe aren't as well prepared as you are, so you are bringing enough to feed yourself, your teammates, and any stray herd of cattle that you may happen upon along the way.  Thoughtful, no?  No.  Listen to your team as they make fun of you for bringing so much food.  A good way to drown them out?  Stuff your face.  Or theirs.  Against their will is the most fun.

Now it's 2:00 in the morning.  Set your alarm for 4:00.  Sleep.  Sleep really fast.  Get up, get gone.  Run to the bus.  Hey, you're on time, for once in your life, congratulations.  The vans are ready, and your group is first!  You're amped up at the starting line, your first walker is off and ... well, walking.  Back in the van you go.  Your leg starts when the first walker finishes - in about 10 minutes.  Make sure you chug that venti, extra hot latte before you go.  And then you're off, getting your strut on, walkin' like a champ.  You're rocking out to Fifty Cent and you're hoofing it - leaving other walk-racers in the dust - we in the industry call 'em "roadkills."   So a little over six miles later, you're none the worse for wear - maybe suffering a little road rash from giant semi trucks passing too close.  Now hunker down 'cause your next leg of the race doesn't start until around midnight, and you've got a looooonng day ahead. 

This is how it goes, all day, all night - one person walking, the rest of the team driving along in the van, pick one up, drop one off, and on and on we go!  We finished our first half at about 5PM, and stopped in this big field to rest ... or attempt to.  We were parked next to a traffic attendant volunteer, who kept asking me questions about the race, although I thought my being face down in my blanket, arms and legs akimbo, headphones in, eyes closed, somewhat snoring would indicate to even the most slack-jawed of the yokels that I was trying to sleep.  He proceeded to ask me things, have conversations with others over my head, and direct vans in mere inches away from my brain box - I gave up on the whole sleep-thing.  Overrated anyway, right?   Live to walk another leg.  And that I did - through Birkenfeld, Oregon (a lovely little town which you can also read about here.)  The moon was full and it was an incredible night - and the thought of zombies coming out of the pitch black woods surrounding me certainly made for a nice, brisk pace - although my fellow race-walkers were confused, I'm sure, about the random screams and Chuck Norris stances.  Never hurts to be prepared.   

So night shift ended, we drove like sleepy bats out of hell for Seaside, where we would await the rest of our team.  We parked, and in under three minutes flat, we had a van-full of snoring, cold, sore, stiff, smelly race-walkers.  After what seemed like maybe 15 minutes, we woke up, took brief Mexican showers (aka wiped down with cold, wet washcloths - not very PC, I apologize) in Porta-pottys, and shuffled in to breakfast where people were WAY too chipper.  Way.  Too.  Chipper.  Seriously.  Stay awake for 32 hours, then see how you like life when surrounded by 10 Ned Flandereses. 

Soon thereafter our last walker arrived - our team, No Blistered Soles, came in 26th out of 142 teams in the Women's Only group.  Our total time for 127 miles was 27:57:22 - average of 13:12 per mile.  Pretty damn good!  We finished at the beach, blew through a group photo, then half of us made for the hills, half of us made for the beer garden, and I made for the car 'cause by that point, I just couldn't stand it anymore.  I read my book and waited for my ride home - and watched all the moronic wrong-way-drivers getting stuck, one after the other, in that tiny lot in the center of Seaside.  I don't think I mentioned before that 17,000 people participated in the Portland to Coast/Hood to Coast Relay, and that's not including all the families, etc., who came to meet the participants at the finish line!  After watching the cars lined up bumper to bumper, honking, cursing, waving to each other, I'd just about had it.  I sat there and cried to my sunburned, exhausted self.  Then I felt much better.   What an experience.  Only next time I'm doing Hood to Coast 'cause the runners don't get picked on as much ... well ... ask me about it next Summer.

The Van...

The Starting Line...

My bed and pillow...

ohboyohboyohboy.

Awhile ago I signed up for a Borders Rewards card because the clerk was cute, and I needed more time to flirt.  Maybe my reasons were not the best, but I absolutely love having this card.  For example today, besides a 20% off coupon I received in my email, I also got to read a review on a new book by a brand new author, The Widow of the South by Robert Hicks.  I read his interview and although I don't like to read hardback books, when it comes out in paperback I am going to snatch it up!  (If I can wait that long - that's another problem I have: no patience.)  I love finding new books and authors - it's like finding $50 in your pants pocket after doing laundry.  (Okay I never find $50 but you get the idea - even a quater is a serious score). 

Here's an excerpt from his interview:

RH: Actually, your writing style seems to flow very naturally, and you seem to be a natural storyteller. Could you talk about how Southerners and the gift of storytelling are related? The best compliment I ever received is when a friend of mine who lives in France had just finished reading the novel, and she said she could only envision, as she closed the book, that she had been sitting in my kitchen and she had heard my longest story yet. I was raised in a family of storytellers; I was raised in a family who savored stories. I had a very good friend who was from an incredibly blue-blooded, patrician, New England family. He and his wife had moved down here, and he said, "You know what I hate about the South?" and I said, "What?" and he said, "All the storytelling." He said, "I just hate it." And I sat there and I was just fuming, because it's so much a part of the world I grew up in. Nobody said to us, when we were children, "Children should be seen and not heard." They would say to us, "Children shouldn't say anything unless they have something interesting to say."

So I went to Borders on my break in search of I Am Legend - a story of a lone survivor in the midst of a world of vampires.  Alas, it was not to be.  But know what I did find?  Book three to the absolute best, most fun zombie trilogy I've ever read! 

And what's better? With my card, I got another 30% coupon to use when I Am Legend is back in stock. Let me just say it: swwwweeeeeeeet.

In the event of an emergency, please proceed to the nearest air duct.

For some reason, whenever I am in a public restroom, as soon as I sit down, the first thought that comes into my head is: What is my escape route? 

Not really in case of fire - 'cause then you'd just leave the way you came in - through the door - like a normal person, because seriously, would the fire actually have started immediately in front of the bathroom door during the 30 seconds it took you to walk in and drop your pants?  Not likely.  I think of escape routes in case of ... oh I don't know, maybe escaped mental patients?  Giant scientifically-altered mutant alligators?  Zombies?  Name one good horror flick you've seen where there's not some poor half-naked woman trying desperately to crawl out of a tiny bathroom window to escape whatever is coming for her - like in the remake of Dawn of the Dead - she gets out with inches to spare, as her boyfriend-turned-zombie breaks down the door and reaches for her foot.  And for some reason, whilst sitting there contemplating, the way I always decide to go is up.  I always look for the air ducts.  Now in an actual emergency, I have no idea how I'd actually get up there, so heaven forbid I'm ever forced to use one of my imagined escape routes.  I hope that adrenaline would just take over and I would make one super-human leap - or sort of run up the side of the wall Matrix-style, grab the vent, whereupon it would swing open, and I could propel my body through the opening and crawl to safety.  Those bars on the wall of the handicapped stall would also be useful to get a foothold.  As well as a tall garbage can. 

Sure, you can go ahead and laugh if you must - but you must admit, it's something to think about.  You may not be lucky enough to be stuck in a restroom with someone as creative as I am, when it's go-time. 

Post Secret.

I still have never seen my secret posted at Post Secret, and it does bum me out.  It was a really, really good one.  But I still feel better for having sent it.

I still check out the site every week, and low and behold, look what I found!  NO, this one is NOT my secret, but I'm glad to know there's people out there who's zombie-phobia blows mine out of the water.  And for the record, I don't have a shelter (or weaponry for that matter) - but if I did, I would definitely want my best friend with me.  She's the only person who gets my whole zombie-thing.

28 Weeks Later

I begged my friend to come see it with me - I do hate to watch zombie flicks by my lonesome.  Why?  Besides the general terror and mayhem, it's because afterward, if I have to go to the bathroom, I end up freaking myself out and am comforted knowing there's someone waiting for me outside the door, so if I do get devoured whilst trying to use the potty, someone can alert the authorities.  So to those of you out there who are like-minded, I do recommend this film, although it was nowhere near as good as the first (not a big surprise) and although as my friend put it, it was one long trailer for the third film to come.  And no, this one doesn't star Sandra Bullock.  And I didn't happen to mention the bathroom-bit to my friend, so JW, if you're reading, there's yet another confession for you. 

Everything's coming up zombies.

Oh boy oh boy ohboyohboyohboy.  Got the link to this article from my friend Molly this morning.  I love that my friends know to keep me updated with zombie-goings-on.  They will be the first ones hand-picked for the ass-kicking-zombie-ninja-squad I'll be forming when it all goes down.  Yeah, you can laugh now, but you're off the squad.

They want to eat your brain: Zombie attack

If ‘28 Weeks Later’ whets your appetite, check out this undead to-do list…

	The Rage virus is back to wreak havoc once again in "28 Weeks Later." These guys move fast and leave a lot of gore in their wake. Thank goodness.  View related photos
Fox Atomic

COMMENTARY

By Dave White

MSNBC contributor

Updated: 6:59 a.m. PT May 10, 2007

If the terrorists forced me to choose between people in rubber monster suits stomping all over Tokyo and a good intestines-munching zombie — and, really, God bless the USA and all our precious freedoms that I don’t — I’d probably choose the rubber-suited guy. But because “28 Weeks Later” opens this week, I’m here to talk about my second favorite class of monster citizen. And really, it’s a very close second. I love zombies.

They have pretty much everything going for them, the zombies. If created with love and care then they’re usually disgusting to behold, and that’s always preferable. They don’t give long-winded speeches about their upcoming plans because everyone knows that all they really want to do is eat live human flesh.

And they ordinarily don’t have feel-sorry-for-me back-stories to try to help you understand their true feelings and motives as zombies. Their job is simply to destroy everything in their path. And just like the shark in “Jaws,” you’re happy no matter what the outcome to their story.

If they get killed in the end then it’s because someone had to blast their brains out or blow them up somehow. So, you know, that’s awesome. And if they don’t get killed in the end then you, the viewer, are free to enjoy their non-stop reign of terror and blood-feasting well into multiple sequels. It’s always win-win with zombies.

For the purposes of the you-oughta-see-this list that follows, I’m going to assume that we all know about the George Romero movies. “Night of the Living Dead,” “Dawn of the Dead” and “Day of the Dead” are classics of the genre. I can’t tell you anything more about them that could add one more piece of vital information that someone hasn’t already written or said. They’re amazing. They’re vile. They’re perfect.

And “Land of the Dead,” which is kind of like “Dude, Where’s My Car?” but with zombies, is not so bad either. If you’re new to the world of the living dead then you need to start with them, definitely. Meanwhile, if you’re all caught up on the basics, check out some of these…

In no particular order, I would allow the following films to eat my brains for dessert:

1.  “Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things” (1972)
Some really aggressively annoying jerks decide that a mock-Satanic ritual in a cemetery is a fun night out. They raise the dead. The dead eat them. Then the dead steal the jerks’ boat. You’re on the side of the dead in this one.

See also: “The Blind Dead” (1971), where blind Spanish zombies steal horses for transportation to make up for the fact that they are blind and that the undead are notoriously slow.

Very telling.

June 22 - July 22

"The stakes will be raised this Thursday, moments before being repeatedly plunged by frightened townspeople into your chest."

Now if that isn't a zombie-appropriate horoscope, I don't know what is.

Eeeew, juicy.

I had to stop reading this at night before bed.  I read the first blood-chilling passage on the bus last night, and then had to walk through the tunnel at night on my way home - where I encountered my roommate, whereupon I made her tell me one thing only she would know, so I was sure (as she suggested) that she wasn't some zombie-betsy. 

Seriously - I don't know why I read this stuff!  BUT be warned, this passage is incredibly graphic - don't read any further unless you're prepared to judge me.

Paul's face darkened with many, many questions.  The first one to come out was "YOU were a doctor?" 
Gary laughed.  "I know, I know.  I used to fight to save lives and now I take them away.  It's so fucking ironic I could just rip your head off."   The survivor went pale and Gary realized he must have breached some unspoken rule of tact normally observed between predators and their prey.  "I promise I'll make this as painless as possible," he said.  He turned to glance at Faceless and Noseless.  "Was he actually trying to kill us with BBs?" 
Paul licked his lips.  His eyes were very bright.  "Let me get this straight, you're planning on eating both of us, right?"
"Yeah," Gary admitted, wondering where this was going.
"And nothing that I can possibly do at this point is going to change your mind."
Gary shrugged.  "You DID try to kill us.  It seems fair, you know?" 
"Sure," Paul said.  "Well in that case - hey, what's that?"
Gary followed Paul's pointing finger, only to have the big survivor put one hand in his face and push him over on his ass.  Gary went sprawling.  By the time he recovered he could only see Paul's back tearing down the street, his feet flashing wildly as he ran.
Gary hadn't felt so humiliated since dodgeball in middle school.  But he got his revenge.  A dozen or so strong, well-fed undead came around the corner just then.  Paul tried to run around them but a dead woman with enormous broken fingernails snatched at his belly as he passed her.  He kept running a few more steps before stopping to look down.  The front of his shirt was red with blood.  He looked up at Gary as if pleading with the doctor to make it all better in the moment before his broken skin tore open and his intestines spilled out steaming onto the asphalt.  The dead converged on him.  He tried to run again but a dead man picked up one loop of his small intestine and started chewing on it.  Paul tripped and fell on his face.  With aching slowness the dead dragged him across the street back toward them, reeling him in like a fish on a line.  When he was close enough - screaming and kicking but weakened by loss of blood - the undead squatted down over his shaking body and took turns biting chunks out of his face.  Eventually he fell silent.
Gary turned to face the other survivor.  The survivor's face was glossy with sweat and his mouth didn't seem to want to close.  "You - you said you would make it painless, remember?"
"As painless as possible," Gary said, "but you know, gee -" he held up his arms and looked down at his pockets - "I forgot.  I'm fresh out of anesthetic."  He lunged forward and sank his teeth deep into Kev's neck, twisting his head around once he got a solid hold on the living man's jugular to tear his throat out in one bloody piece.

Brrrrraaaaiiiiinnnssss...

I bought this book this weekend ...

It's all sorts of freaky - but I'm just getting into it.   Obviously it's doing its job - despite being beyond exhausted last night, I still had a wee bit of trouble sleeping. 
And I had to stop myself from buying these two books at Powells:


... because believe it or not, they're MUCH cheaper at Amazon.  Must restrain self ...

Awesome.

Look at what my niece Gwen found me on-line:  Corporate Zombies!

The Cubes® Corporate Zombies
The mindless tedium of employment at GigantaMegaCorp has crushed their spirit and turned these once bright, flowering young go-getters into hopeless Corporate Zombies. They spend their days staring blankly at computer monitors and shuffling through the cube maze, occasionally grunting something about brains. Each set comes with four 2-3/4" tall posable  plastic figures with eerie green skin that glows-in-the-dark and    seven different plastic office accessories.

How neat!  This site also features things such as bacon-strip bandages, wind-up hopping lederhosen, horrified b-movie victim figurines ...
awesome.