Now is rebuilding time.

When you're doing a show, even one that doesn't require tons of work or rehearsal time, it still gets in the way of your life sometimes. For the last two months, I couldn't go to the gym because there was simply no time. I couldn't eat right because there was only enough time to microwave something before I had to run to rehearsal. There was only enough time to write late in the evenings in the narrow space between showering and bedtime.

So, all of a sudden, I'm this grease-consuming, out-of-shape guy who feels like he's way behind on his writing.

That's the trade-off.

But this week was supposed to be The Week Of Getting Life Back In Order. And so far, it's working out well. I went to the gym twice. Ate a little better than I have been (by which I mean, of course, that I chew my food now). I've even gotten some projects off the ground that I'd only been talking smack about for the last year or so.

One of them, which I've already mentioned, involves selling stuff on Terribly Happy. There's also going to be a give-away for some lucky folks on the notify list, so if you're not already on it, now's a good time to sign up.

When I have weeks like this, usually coming off of a show, I wonder what it is people do every night when they get home from work if they don't have to go to rehearsals. Do they plop down in front of the TV all night? Have lots of sex? Get lost at the Home Depot?

There are, of course, never enough hours in the day for anyone (except people in jail. I hear they pick up all kinds of interesting hobbies). But what do people do with those five or six hours between work and bed? For me, it's always a mad scramble that doesn't even end when I lie down (I usually run the next day's list of things to do in my head until I fall asleep in the wee hours).

I'm guess I'm trying to learn to be a normal person this week. Taking care of myself for a little while, leaning how to have free time, enjoying the quiet a little.

 

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This isn't a blog, but it's been a long time since I provided linky goodness, so here's what I've been reading lately:

Pineapple Girl, my homie, got her ass arrested. It's a long story, full of sadness and jailhouse crack. Go read it here.

I called her up yesterday evening to see if she was okay. I told her that I wouldn't have been able to survive similar circumstances, mostly because the guy's prison system doesn't sound nearly as pleasant as the ladies' side.

"I don't see us sharing life stories and getting all Oprah. You knew everybody's life story. I would have been lying, saying, 'I'm in here for killing a guy that looks just. Like. You.' " I would have snarled a lot, too.

"Hey, you're the second person to compare my jailtime to Oprah!"

Pobrecita Pineapple.

You're not gonna see any of this shit on Terribly Happy. I mean, except for today, of course.

My friends Tiffany and Taylor from Oklahoma are planning to visit around Labor Day. A cryptic e-mail suggested that they would be "Phooning" in front of the Alamo.

I thought they were just being perverted until I looked at the site. I can't tell if this is the dumbest thing I've ever seen, or just some mild form of genius. Either way, I will give you the Terribly Happy pledge: You won't see my ass Phooning around here any time soon.

To say that I have a love/hate relationship with Windows is vast understatement. We're like The War of the Roses. One of these days, somebody's going to find me and my beloved computer tangled on the floor, both shattered to bits. My funky fly fresh co-worker Dale, sent me this, which will have anyone who's ever touched a Windows computer nodding their head and saying, "True dat, true dat."

Unless you're one of those people who doesn't say things like "True dat," in which case you might just mutter under your breath a litany of gutteral curse words. That works, too.

In October, I'm supposed to go speak at JournalCon on a panel about mixing fact with fiction in online journals. I'm going to talk about my impressive penile size and how it's absolutely the truth when I speak of it because it's on the Internet. The true upshot of this Chicago trip, however, is that I managed to score a ticket, after much wrestling with that nefarious bitch-beast Ticketmaster, to see Bjørk! She's performing in an itty bitty, teeny weeny theater with a 40-piece orchestra, as I understand it. Her new album, Vespertine, comes out this month. You can see all of her videos (including the new one "Hidden Place" where she turns eye goo into art) here.

That's it, my furry friends. I'll see you Monday.

Go swimming this weekend. You'll feel better, promise.