I Used to Have Something to Say

Now I am just a sullen shell of my former self. Why? You may ask. Or perhaps you don't care and you are now moving on to some other site, because the potential for this post to become:

a) weird
b) boring
c) depressing
d) self-indulgent
e) long-winded
f) rife with hyphenated words
g) any combination - including "all" - of the above

is quite real and you just don't have that kind of time to waste. Or you don't care, but think there might be something funny. Or you do care and you are my mother.

After a brief chat with Natalie, I think I may know what my problem is. Or at least the problem that is contributing to this lack of something to say. (We all know I have many "problems" and I should be specific when I blame an action on "my problem" - but I digress.)

I have PESSD. "You just made that up!," you say. And in agreement I say, "Yes. Yes, I did." To which you, in turn, reply, "Well, what the hell does it stand for?" And I reply, in kind, "It means Post Endurance Sport Stress Disorder." You cock your head slightly to the side and sensitively respond, "You are an idiot." To which I respond, equally sensitively, "Touché."

Regardless of your feelings toward my made-up malady, my personality, endurance sports or acronyms I am quite sure my feeling of ennui is directly related to the end of my racing season with my completion of the Twin Cities Marathon, at which I did not develop bloody nipples or poo my pants, and watching the Ironman World Championships in Kona, during which I did develop sympathetic bloody nipples, saddle sores and explosive diarrhea - weird. These events were big milestones - the races, not the other "events" - and now I am on the steady decline to cold, darkness and snow. Riding my bike inside, lonely weight training and Christmas shopping. Really, can anything be more depressing? ("Yes. This post.")

I am determined to get over this dip in my mood. I have considered increasing my off-season training, but that will take time to build up so I don't injure myself. I have considered the use of prescription drugs - oh come on, I am already using prescription drugs. Really, who did I think I was fooling? I have considered illegal drugs, but I like to sleep too much to do meth and I already eat too much to smoke "the chronic" (How totally "street" did I sound right there?) So, what I have decided to do to help myself (because, frankly, none of you are any help) is pick an obscure topic and rant about it. Today's topic: Lanai v. Porch

There were many references to "sitting on the lanai" by people who were racing Kona, spectating at Kona or knew people doing either of those two things. At some point D made the observation that a "lanai," which sounds so tropical and exotic is really just a deck, patio or porch in the rest of the world. Good point, D! So as to not go off "half-cocked," but to be "fully-cocked" I did a little research. (I Googled "lanai." I truly meant "little research.")

First of all, Lanai is an island. The sixth-largest of the Hawaiian islands and known for growing pineapples. A "lanai" is defined as "an Hawaiian-style covered veranda or patio oftentimes furnished and used as a living room." So let's be clear, if it doesn't have a roof, it's a deck, patio or veranda. My mother-in-law has a condo in Florida. It's your typical high-rise condo built in the late 50's or early 60's with balconies hanging off the side and yet everyone refers to their balcony as a "lanai." This is just ridiculous. It has a "roof" only because there is another "balcony" above. You can fit, like, two lawn chairs on there - far from "furnished and used like a living room," and it's in fricking Florida! It has nothing to do with Hawaii!

SO. All you people (you know who you are) who feel it necessary to throw around the word "lanai" - you are all rétards. I bet when you're at home, if you called your falling-down rotting deck a "lanai" when your neighbors were over swilling your piss-warm PBR and eating grilled salmonella burgers, they would take off their seed company trucker hats and pummel you to within an inch of your sun-burned, washboard-ab sporting, super-fit life. Even in Hawaii a deck is still a deck! So knock it off!

NOW. Before you all get uppity and do a "little more research" and point out some obscure comparison, definition or crayon drawing of a veranda, patio, deck, porch or sun-room that looks remarkably like a "lanai" I will stop you and point out that I don't care. Remember when I made reference to the level of my "cocked-edness"? Well, the fact that I was "cocked" to any degree should be an indication that I am a a guy and as such, I prefer to believe only what my small brain can discern from one Google search. Let's not confuse the argument with more "facts."

Well, I feel much better. I can feel the endorphins rushing through my veins. The overcast skies seem brighter, the death-metal I am listening to sounds happier, the obnoxious holiday theme sweaters surrounding me are not quite as glittery and the "mom-jeans" I see around me are more "flattering", dare I say - sexy.

And with that it appears I have rediscovered my voice. I did have something to say. And I don't doubt that this post has inspired all of you to say something as well. (Something like, "You, sir, are a complete moron!")