I don't know how many of you are familiar with the Japanese beetle (or lady bug), but I'm here to tell you that they have control of Minnesota right now. Take several consecutive days of abnormally cold temperatures, stir in an indian summer, and BAM!, we're talking beetle explosion.
I'm not kidding. These bugs were everywhere yesterday. I went for a five mile run, and I had to keep batting the annoying buggers off my shirt. A little known thing about the innocent-looking lady bug: the bastards occasionally bite, and they leave some sort of excrement on white shirts that leave a dark stain. I've decided I don't like lady bugs.
Lazy weekend. I went up to the cities to see Melissa. Upon my arrival, we had sex. If there's one thing a week of absence will do, it will build up a lot of sexual need. I had scarcely entered her apartment before we found ourselves deep in the sheets. Any weekend that begins with sex is bound to be, at least, above par.
Saturday, we went to a Halloween outlet, and I was disappointed at the overall lack of realistic Halloween gear. What can I say? I like creepy shit. As we left the store, however, we came to the realization that the day had become stellar: warm sun, blue sky. So, we broke out the rollerblades and trekked all around the trails traversing the Como Park area. Minnesota is funny that way. You take for granted all the really nice summer days, just assuming you're entitled to them, but when a nice fall day rolls around, you savor it like the last Jolly Rancher in the pack or Kelly Clarkson.
This is going to be a bitch of a winter. Mark my words. Lots of snow. Bitter cold. It shall test the resolve of even the most seasoned Minnesotan. Perhaps I should buy a snowmobile this year.
Speaking of buying things, I'm now in the hunt for a house, or at least a townhome. I want my own place. I want a place that is uniquely mine. I want an office decorated like a Japanese room. I want a bedroom that doesn't also serve as a computer room and living room. I want space. And, damn it, I want a dog.
Last night, I went to bed fairly early for a Sunday evening. 10:30. Come midnight, I awoke with a roaring heart rate. It felt like my heart was trying to burst from my chest and flop around on the carpet. This happens once in awhile, and I'm not sure why, although I suspect sodium intake, or at least something that has to do with my diet for the day, has a lot to do with it (last night was Famous Dave's ribs and fries, so you do the math). It's an incredibly uncomfortable experience. One minute I'm happily sleeping away, the next minute I'm snapping awake, my heart pounding in my chest like I've just sprinted for three miles.
I tried watching television. I tried doing pushups. I tried pretty much everything. Finally, I ended up grabbing a beer and nursing that while I surfed the web. Hey, I figured, beer is a depressant, right? I don't know how solid my reasoning was, but whatever the case, my heart rate subsided after about half a can. Don't look for my name in the medical journals any time soon, but the Rhodes Almanac now specifically states that "Half a can of beer can bring down an out of control heart rate."
I can live with that.
Posted by Ryan at October 6, 2003 10:03 AM
Stumble It!
