Dear McDonalds

Dear Driver On The Freeway: Both lanes are not created equal. The left lane is the FAST lane. The right lane is the SLOW lane. When you are going 20 mph UNDER the speed limit, you should NOT be driving in the left lane.

Dear McDonalds: I’d appreciate if you would stop making Big Macs taste so delicious. My self-control isn’t strong enough to maintain the temptation of your artery-clogging goodness.

Dear Alarm Clock: I hate you. I want to find your heartless inventor and scratch his eyes out with a rusty fork.

Dear Lady Who Works With My Wife Who Made Us Chocolate-Covered Toffee: This is possibly the best food I have ever ingested. I don’t even know who you are. So I hope it’s not inappropriate to say…..I love you. I’d be willing to make a trade for more of your toffee: A photo shoot. Some CDs. One of my children. You just name the price.

Friends In Haiti

Some friends Brian and Tonya recently returned from Haiti. See some of their incredible pictures at www.bubblewhoops.com. I got goose bumps.

Food + Hair = Gag Reflex

I went to a conference on Monday for work. It was held at the Senior Center and the topic was “Essential Tools for Dementia Care” and treating Alzheimer’s disease. The presenters were top-notch physicians. The training was informative, helpful, and useful.

But I digress. So, the conference was held at the Senior Center. And lunch was provided by……the Senior Center. The facility is enormous and beautiful. But not necessarily known as a world-class eating establishment.

I was exerting tremendous effort to enjoy the broccoli cheddar soup when I came across a stringy black hair. Suddenly soup didn’t sound so appetizing. So I started eating the turkey wrap. It actually looked pretty good. Unfortunately, with the first bite, my teeth sunk into a long brown hair woven between the slices of turkey.

I suppose I only have myself to blame. It’s my fault. I didn’t specify that I wanted the soup WITHOUT hair. I failed to clarify that I wanted the turkey wrap MINUS hair.

Note to self: Lunch from the Senior Center includes complementary tooth floss.

Painter's Half Marathon 2010

I just posted a race report from the Painter's St. George Half Marathon at my running blog. CLICK HERE to read the full story.

My Name Is Cory And I'm A Sugar Addict

My body has spiraled into a deep chasm of decay. Everything started to crumble about a month ago during a stop at the Maverik gas station.

I'll just be honest with you. I like to eat me some fat, pink frosted sugar cookies. Unfortunately, Maverik happened to be out of fat, pink frosted sugar cookies during my visit. So I settled for the sub-par oatmeal raisin cookie. Without warning, I died and went to heaven.

Ever since then, I have had a mad craving for oatmeal raisin cookies. But this also triggered an all-out, diabetes-inducing need for all things sugar.

It's as if every ounce of self-control has been decayed. I'm popping cookies like I just ended a hunger strike. I down raspberry-filled donuts without remorse. I'm ingesting Nutter Butters frequently enough that my tongue is beginning to resemble a peanut. I realize that my bones are slowly crystallizing into a sweet confectionery treat. And I don't care. I'm trying to feel guilty. Really. I'm trying.

And to speed my trajectory down this slippery slope of sugar, I made oatmeal cookies this weekend. This is akin to a meth addict deciding it's a good idea to start his own meth lab in the bathtub. And I was grateful that nobody in my house likes oatmeal raisin cookies. I didn't want to share anyway.

I'm a little worried because I'm training for a marathon coming up in less than four months. And yet during the grueling marathon training, the only fuel I'm giving my body comes from Hostess. Or Maverik.

Sweet Tunes From Needtobreathe

Here's a cool song from the group Needtobreathe. Their most recent album The Outsiders has been on the Bestsellers List in Christian music for a while. I hesitate to describe their music as "adult alternative" because it makes me feel old.

Their songs are an interesting mix of rock, alternative, country (don't worry, not much), and happiness. I'm a fan. Check it out:

Why I Can't Join Dukes Of Hazzard

When I was a young lad, there was nothing.....NOTHING cooler than Dukes of Hazzard. (With the possible exception of MacGyver).

One day my little brother and I were feeling rather Hazardous and climbed into the family car parked in our garage. With yours truly at the helm of "General Lee", I started fiddling with the gears and emergency brake.

(Minor detail: the driveway sloped downward...straight to a busy street. Hence...the need for the parking brake.)

Before I could say "Daisy", our ugly blue Geo Metro was rolling down the driveway. To my complete horror, and in classic Dukes of Hazzard fashion, my brother hopped right out of the passenger window (I'm not kidding!!!), leaving me rolling down the hill and across the busy street.

I abandoned my dream of being a Duke after realizing that I had never seen one of the Dukes cry their eyes out when their car crossed a street.

I have to give my brother serious props for having the instinct of a cougar to hop out the window without pause. Meanwhile, my instinct was about as fast as a filing cabinet.

A Little Bit Angry

I was a little frustrated with my wife last night. And I'll tell you why. She barricaded my side of the bed.

Granted, it was with my junk, but still.

Apparently she thinks I have this little problem of leaving stuff out on the kitchen counter that shouldn't be left there. Personally, I see nothing wrong with a shoe box, CDs, my camera, an mp3 player, books, or socks (got busted on that one today) sitting on the counter. But she does.

And apparently she decided that gentle reminders to put my stuff away weren't doing the trick. So she cleaned up my stuff for me. And piled it right on the side of my bed. Now....every time I go to GET in my bed, I have to climb over my mountain of crap to get there. It's just not right.

So last night, just to be funny, I moved everything from the side of my bed BACK to the counter. I had a hard time containing my giggling, because I'm sure Mel was thinking that I was finally cleaning up my stuff. Little did she know.

So this morning she sees all my junk piled back on the counter. She said in her grumpy voice "That's not funny." It didn't seem like the appropriate time to explain to her that it actually was funny.

Then she said sternly "You don't want to play this game with me." And foolishly, I asked why.

At the moment, she had the largest butcher knife we own in her hand cutting a grapefruit.

She pointed the knife at me and said "Because I will always win."