Writer. Warning: opinions. My lawyer advised a disclaimer, but didn't include any jokes to go with. Damned if I can think of any either.

Buckhead sizzler

I was settling down toward sleep. I wasn’t there yet but I was relaxing and thinking about my race. My phone went “bong!”

I looked at it. My friend saw a wreck with a bicycle and wants me to be safe.

Thing is, I should turn my phone off before I go to bed on these race nights, but I use its alarm as a backup. I put my phone back on my desk and fluffed and flopped back into my nest.

And now, here I am.

I am just over one hour early. The crisp air finds few runners to disturb it yet. Those of us who are here go up to the table in ones and twos and get our race numbers, then get back in our cars.

Had I known that an hour before start the packet pickup area would be so desolate I would have slept another hour and rolled up just in time to get my number.

I will be running 10k, or just over six miles, in an effort to a) not be fat and b) get a better starting number for the peachtree road race next july.

I could really go for a bagel right now. I think I’ll grab one after the race.

My freind Craig woke me up at midnight last night. My phone rang.

“Hello” he said, “whatcha doing?”

“Well I WAS sleeping.”

“Oh. Well. Um. What you are experiencing is a drunk dial. This can go one of two ways. Either you come to where the party is, or we have an awkward conversation later.”

I said “heh”

“Ooo-kay, looks like its the latter of the two, so let me apologize now.”

“Love you, buddy.” I said, and hung up.

I flipped over and hugged a pillow and my BBC Planet Earth dvd silently alternated blue pictures of rare animals onto me and the wall.