Hello March

It's March today good people! Do you know what that means? March Madness. Not the basketball type, not to be sacrilegious but I really don't give a flying flip about that stuff. Go ahead and unfollow if you must, I'll wait. For those of you who remain... I'm talking the real madness as Mad as a March Hare...as in Nathan madness.

Did you know that there are a mere 31 days left to complete the Momedy Throwdown. Thirty. One. Which brings us to Coach Nathan. Upon whom the winter takes a toll. As you will be able to tell from the rant which is to follow.

Despite the "people who blog are phonies" belief that Nathan holds so dear, I don't actually want you to believe that I live in a pink polka dotted world (unless of course that makes you think that I am cool) I was only trying to protect you from one of his darker days when I failed to post his "you, yes you, are going to die one way or another so maybe you should exercise because it could possibly improve your quality of life but actually..no guarantees..." motivational piece. I couldn't do that to you in February. But! Spring is on its way. I know you can handle him now. So without further censorship.. I give you the mad march hare..

Kirsty dares to ask me to guest blog again. Do you realize what she did last time she invited me on? No, of course you don’t. Why? Because she censored me. Censored, as in, did not post it. Not a fragment of it. Are we for censorship? Apparently Kirsty is. She doesn’t think we can handle being told about death and the slow rotting corruption of the body and all that other good stuff that is just necessarily going to arise when she asks me to guest blog because, hey, it’s what Kirsty’s friends think about. (And now she will censor this one---wanting you all to think that she lives a bright yellow and pink polka-dotted life full of happy stars and purple marshmallows, yellow moons, green clovers, and blue diamonds). Get real. It’s Northwest Ohio, Count Dookoo. Death is on the menu.

But in the meantime, get out of your nightmares and onto the track. You wanna feel good and taste even better? Step up to elliptical pleasure. Feel those pounds shedding off. Feel your frame shrinking as your fame spreads. Your body and your booty getting leaner. Your mind getting bigger. And your bank account.

It will happen if you just make a commitment to spring into action right now. Step back from the computer. Drop to your knees. Lean forward. Place hands on floor in front of you directly below the shoulders. Lower body at the hips. Touch chest or chin to ground. Raise body. Now you feel better.

You really do. And you know it. You feel like you’re fighting off death. And that’s cool because you can almost imagine George Lucas or James Cameron filming you in front of a blue screen. Unfortunately, you’ll gain a terrible reputation as an actor and it won’t even really be your fault. (By the way, little known secret: the actor who played Jar Jar Binks was actually Meryl Streep; yep, Lucas really is THAT bad) (Can you tell my kids have been dragging me through the Star Wars prequels this weekend?---can it get any worse?). No wonder Kirsty wants me to blog. Sadist.

So how would you deal with Northwest Ohio weather and Jar Jar Binks ringing between the ears and the dull look of bored Jedi’s being chased by giant blue screens and censored blogs?

I’d run. Or sit up. Or pull up. Or push through. Or throw down.

That’s what you do if you want to find real happiness. The Buddha only didn’t teach it because people sitting around rotting in front of a glowing screen all day was a little beyond his imagination back in the day. Ditto for all the other holy men and the female ones too. The lost sheep ain’t on Farmville. Mafia Wars? I don’t think so.

So, in short, we’re all going to die. And in the meantime your kid’s gonna stick George Lucas in the DVD player. It’s enough to call it quits.

Unless you’re doing a push up. And then it’s all better.

Trust me.

Or censor me.

But at your peril.

---Coach Nathan

Hey, it's me-Shiny Happy Perfectly Perky Kirsty reporting from Perfectville again. So! Who is going to step it up today? Win a category? Get on the wall? Alrighty then.

Oh but wait, first look at this picture of my perfect life. I think you might even be able to make out some pink polka dots . My fabulous five year old Finny made those cupcakes with my awesome friend Cindi. For my birthday, way back in darkest February. It was perfect. (Apart from the puking parts.)

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