Sonya just asked me to whip out the Young Ones tapes - it's a tape of most of the episodes from the initial airing on MTV in the mid-eighties. It's old for a videotape, eh?

Anyhow, I popped it in the VCR and hit play. It was roughly in the middle, right? And it started spooling out all these glam-metal videos - Ratt, Cinderella, Ozzy, Bon Jovi, Whitesnake...my god, it's the soundtrack to my dimwitted youth. How fun.

[Question for English Readers: So I'm watching The Young Ones, right? Neil has been making repeated references to something - some type of school supply, I think - called a "gonk." What the hell is a gonk? Let me know.]

I did the River of Dreams 5K last night (pictures forthcoming). It was a hoot! I came in at thirty-six minutes and change. I'm probably not going to Sydney for the games next year, am I? Still, it was a good run. I had a coworker in the race, and Ward and Kathy, and I saw this girl I went to high school with...and Jen and Sonya came down and acted as spectators, too.

The perks for this race weren't too good, though. The goodie-bag was meager, and the whole beer/water/pizza supply was quickly depleted. As the lone beer line started to snake around the tent and the band started to play D-I-V-O-R-C-E we decided it was time to leave.

Before we left, though, I ate a banana and attempted to put it in a garbage can some twenty feet away. I went for the big hook-shot. Swish! I was so proud of myself. Then Jen and I went to the IHOP for my favorite breakfast of pancakes and hash browns.

When we walked in to the IHOP I thought my favorite group of local deviants (whom I have encountered before) were sitting at the big table in back. I was disappointed, though. It was some other group of loud, unattractive people.

The Wife and I did some running around today. I dropped her off at the salon and went to pick up some dog food (I saw a chinchilla at the pet store - they're awfully cute, aren't they? I could never have one in the house, though; Roxy would make it her life's work to rip the rodent apart. She can't help her rat-terrier nature) and browse around Bookstar.

If anyone cares, I'd like a subscription to Q magazine for Christmas. Just in case anyone cares.

Back to the salon to get the wife. Shawn, our talented stylist, had this to ask me:

"How drunk were you the other night?"

I must have been quite the fool at the Horseshoe the other night.

What else? Lunch at Mojo's (hummus and dolamadhies and samolipika and harkamodorana and whatever the hell else that we had) and then an amusing trip to Christal's, the city's own dildo-and-bachelorette-party outlet (we were looking for glow-in-the-dark condoms for Sonya to glue to barrettes - don't ask). We tittered over the selection of simulated penises, porno movies, various harnesses and clamps and the aggressively tacky lingerie.

I take back my earlier request; I want my Christmas present from Christal's.

Not the S&M gear, though. It looked terribly cheap. Just a note. I'm not picky.

My favorite video title? Mo' Mo' Booty.

We also went to a party supply store where I found two cheap plastic hats: a Skipper-ish captain's hat and a fireman's hat.

"Hey, Sonya?" I said, creeeping up to her on the card aisle, "screw the sex toys. We can go home and play 'Sea-Captain and Fireman!' Who do you want to be?"

"The Sea-Captain," Sonya said decisively.

I should have made some comment about "handling the hose" or "spraying you down" but I totally missed the oppportunity.

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