Carbing up with a vengeance

I sat to write about watching the season premiere of American Idol, when this email came in, and my stream of consciousness hit a log jam. It was from the alumni office of my alma mater, and I reproduce it here:

Calling all runners!

If you are running the 2008 Country Music Marathon & ½ Marathon in Nashville we hope you’ll join us for a time of great food (our treat) and fellowship before the big run on Saturday.

Anonymous University Alumni will gather Friday evening, April 25
for a “pasta pig-out,” 6:30 pm at Fancy Italian Restaurant in
Franklin, TN. Fancy Italian Restaurant is located in the Cool Springs
area, 1722 Pseudonym Blvd, Franklin, TN 37067.

We will also arrange a group photo in Centennial Park before the race begins on Saturday morning.

Please let us know if you will be running the CMM and joining us for dinner (email alumni@anonymousuniversity.edu or call 1-800-555-1212). Spouses are welcome.

See you soon!

Let's begin with the Country Music Marathon. Now I listen to my share of country. And as much as I respect, say, Alan Jackson and Martina McBride, I can't get rid of the picture of Conway Twitty in jogging shorts and bouffant hairdo running full out while singing "You want a man with a slow foot...." And there's a half marathon, too! For folks who only sorta like country, I guess.

I went to the website for Fancy Italian Restaurant. I have to say the menu looked pretty good, but what struck me is the three portion sizes: Buca Small (serves 2 or more), Buca Large (4 or more), and the new(!) Buca Mio (the exact right size for, ahem, one).

Now, seeing as how they're calling this shindig a "pasta pig-out", I'm guessing there won't be many of the Buca Mios sitting around that night. Except maybe as appetizers.

One thing that won't be served is wine. AnonU is owned by a religious body that frowns upon strong drink. Of course, this fellowship isn't at the school, but way across the state. And frankly, serving Italian food without wine is a sin in and of itself. So what are they to do?

The biggest problem, though, is the very idea behind what they're doing here: they're serving all the pasta you can eat to a bunch of people twelve hours before they run 26 miles! Seems to me they'd be wanting to keep their alumni healthy, not kill them off. Unless they're hoping for a nice bequest from a few of them. I reckon that's why they're having the photo shoot before the race. There won't be enough runners left after the race to make it worthwhile.

I have no plans to do this marathon thing. I do love me some lasagne, though. I wonder how they'd know whether I was actually going to race or not.

Hmm. Free Italian.... And my lady wife could come too....

Let me check my calendar.

Out of the Mouths of Babes - Part 1

It was a quiet evening. I sat at my computer, pretending to work, while in fact I was learning the intracies of Freecell Solitaire. The wife busily checked her email. (I believe she was planning a family gathering with her sisters, but the details are now lost in the shadows of the past.) The younger son was taking his evening nap after a hard day goofing off. His older brother was playing his favorite video game of all time (that summer). The dogs were napping peacefully on their love seats. It was, overall, a nice, quiet, peaceful evening.

"I hate the undead!"

Ryan, the aforementioned elder son, blurted this out amidst a hail of machine gun fire from the family TV. Naturally, my interest was piqued.

"What?" I asked.

"What?" he replied. The machine gun fire had morphed into the explosions of rocket propelled grenades. "Dang it!"

"What did you just say?"

"I said, 'Dang it!'"

"No, before that."

"Oh. I dunno."

"I believe you said you hate the undead."

"Oh. Well, I do. I do hate the undead."

There was a pause while I waited for an expansion on this statement, but my wait was in vain.

"So," I tried again, "is there some reason you would say that?"

"You mean besides the fact that I hate them?"

"Well, why do you hate the undead?"

"They keep stealing my ammo."

Let's pause for just a second and consider these words:

I hate the undead. They keep stealing my ammo.

Apparently, the undead, who used to be a technologically backward, ubertraditionalist, mysteriously self-reliant type of being, have discovered guns. Or at least ranged weapons. This does not bode well for normal humans like you and me.

Also, they seem to have embarked on a life of crime. Besides murder and general mayhem, that is. What's next? Are they gonna start shoplifting at the Walmart? Knocking over liquor stores? Mugging little old ladies for their pocket change?

This does not seem to me a welcome change. I liked it better in the old days when you could count on zombies shambling around making unintelligible noises and grasping at your skull. Now you have to worry about the Saturday Night Special the zombie might have tucked into his waistband.