I hope the euphoria over Friday’s never dies. It’s one of the few things that has remained constant since childhood. The only difference now is instead of skipping to the bus I skip to my rental car that my company pays for! I still watch “Family Matters” though.

I’ve grown to loathe dogs. The hatred has been progessional, starting when I was a teenager and finally culminating to my current state. My hatred for these creatures is on various levels. I understand that using the word “hate” is strong, but it sums up what I feel deep down.

I must add that my hatred is nothing like Michael Vick’s hatred, I don’t want to kill dogs, just have them removed from coming anywhere near me.

A large part of the resentment comes from being a runner. Dogs feel, as I approach them at a fast speed, that I’m going to attack them or their owner, and in defense lunge after me. My heart begins to race as I approach these vicious creatures, knowing that this is going to be the moment that I’m going to get mauled. My bone structure would not accommodate any sort of deformity, I already look average enough, add averagely ugly to it and I’m set for a life of sad masturbation.

I suppose the root of the resentment is in their neediness. Just like with humans, I cannot stand those who cannot take care of themselves. I am nurturing, seriously, but there’s a certain level of self-dependency that I expect of people (I never said I wasn’t shallow).

This morning the dog I’m watching pooped and pissed during the night and then woke me up at 4 AM to tell me so. Bark bark, yap yap, that’s all it does. And whenever dogs poop in the house they always seem to poop right where you always walk. Frankly if I was going to take a dump I’d want to hide it, not flaunt it. I know the dog is telling me something with it’s poop, but I’m not buying it!

My friends are right, I talk about poop a lot!

Do Lassie dogs really exist? Where’s Benji? Clifford the big red dog is just a big marketing ploy for the dog breeding industry, pushing their crack on the innocent minds of children.

My children are going to hate me. Childhood and dogs go together like milk and cereal, Lucky and Ethel, condoms and lube. If I give in and let them have a dog then at least I can hold it over their heads, that I’m making a huge sacrifice by allowing it. But kids don’t respond to guilt like they used to, and by the time I have kids they probably won’t even have the internal emotional response to even recognize guilt. So, no dogs for my kids, we’re going to be a fish family!

Just keep swimming, Scott, just keep swimming.

One of the worst feelings in the world is having to poop and not being able to. What would make that worse is being surprised by the “need” after the first mile of a six mile run, with no bathroom in sight. You could turn around but that would screw with your training, so you move on. You repeat whatever mantras work for you, I prefer, “Slow and steady wins the race,” or “Focus on the breath,” but they barely do the trick. I can run through pain, cold weather, exhaustion, but trudging through the need for a movement, well that’s just the shits.

When I first moved to Los Angeles I didn’t poop for three days. For a runner with a metabolism that seems to break down food quicker than a bathroom quickie for Senator Craig, it took some serious determination to hit the pavement. I would run mile after mile, saying to my stomach, “Come on, break that shit down, puh-lease!” The moment finally came in the midst of an awkward encounter with my boss in the bathroom. As I said in a previous blog, using the restroom with somebody who holds the power to fire you is tense. It brings a whole new meaning to comparing kohonies, you know? As he chatted me up I tried to hold it, so not to disrupt the uncomfortable conversation with an equally disturbing sound. But since it had been three days my body won out. BAM, and then silence (and possibly a tiny giggle, I couldn’t make it out). I sat there, ashamed yet relieved. I tried to continue the conversation, “I love the food in Los Angeles,” if he couldn’t already tell. Ugh, awkward!

Friends say I bring up poop a lot. I’ll admit, I crack up at poop jokes. Even the way the word sounds is funny. Say it out loud, right now. (I’ll wait) See, you smiled, admit it. Poop. But besides the humor of it all, as other runner’s will attest to (I hope), getting in the regular movement is vital to your training. It can screw up a race, or even hold you back in training. It’s quite a serious issue.

One of my biggest fears about the marathon is feeling the need in the middle of the race. It will happen, I know it, but how to handle it? I hear stories of runners just continuing on while still taking care of business. That’s not me. I’m a serious runner but I am not about to piss on myself. The last time I did that, years ago, was so embarrassing it scarred me for life. There I was, 23, still wetting the bed. Try explaining that to potential boyfriends!

I’m kidding. Ha!

I was 22.
***
“Look at that ugly dog,” Chase said.

“It’s not a dog, it’s a coyote,” I said.

My very first LA coyote sighting. It looked so sweet, I wanted to offer it some of the turkey jerky I keep in the car.

“Don’t do that,” Chase said.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t. Turkey jerky is expensive!”

It’s official, I’m running the Las Vegas Marathon on December 2nd. I put off paying the fee, for once I paid the fee it would be real. When I got the confirmation e-mail that my credit card was approved and charged this tingly feeling came over me, goosebumps formed on my arm and I had a freak attack of cramps. Am I really doing this?

26.2 miles. Slow steady wins the race. Focus on the breath.

The Las Vegas Marathon is known for being quirky. Elvis impersonators show up, people get married, unique costumes are worn; but all of these wonderful qualities are just extra perks as to why I chose Vegas as my first marathon. The real reason I chose Vegas: the buffets. Think about it, Vegas is known for their buffet’s. What else does somebody want after running 26.2 miles (after the ice bath)? FOOD!

I’m scared, I’ll admit it. Surprisingly the fear only enhances my desire to do it, I know I can do this! I’ve lost 100 pounds, quit smoking, 26.2 miles is nothing in comparison.

Wish me luck!

I want to learn to embrace my back fat, any advice as to how to do this would be greatly appreciated.
***
My magic 8 ball has taken the place of a friend. I carry it around with me everywhere, sometimes turning to it to make decisions on things that I can’t come to a conclusion on. It would be interesting to see people’s reactions when I ask the ball a question in public and then visibly look disappointed in it’s response. I wonder if they see me cheating, trying to get another answer out of the ball that would counter it’s initial response?

Maybe I should get a dog?

“I think I just peed a little,” I whispered to an acquaintance after spotting Eric McCormack from “Will & Grace.” “Would you like to meet him,” he asked me, surprising me with the tasty bit of news that he knows him. I nervously spoke to him only to be interrupted by John Pyper-Ferguson, better known as the cheating husband Joe on “Brothers & Sisters.” Is this really happening, how can this be happening?

Project Angel Food held their annual awards reception to honor a celebrity that has done great work for the organization. Last night’s recepient, and the reason I attended (beyond it being a great cause), was the dynamic Shirley MacLaine, Oscar-winning actress and Hollywood legend! As many of my friends know my favorite film is Terms of Endearment, for which MacLaine won the Oscar.

“Judith Light,” I said as I turned around. Surprised to literally bump into her (thank God I didn’t cause her to spill her drink), I was caught off guard, muttered a few words. I mentioned where I worked only to be shocked to learn that we know similar people. I know people Judith Light knows, WTF!

Dinner was nice, low in carbs (the gays and their carbs, I never will understand the strain between the two). While we ate Maria Shriver spoke. Speaking of carbs, her son needs to give away some to her. That girl needs to eat!

Beside’s Shirley, a huge highlight of the evening was meeting Stifler’s Mom, Jennifer Coolidge. She gave a funny speech but for some reason I was distracted during it, I suppose even a gay man couldn’t help but envy that chest.

Alright, brace yourself Scott. The reception was over, everybody crowded around Shirley. There’s no way you’re going to get a picture. No, no, stop thinking like that. The power of the secret, if you build it they will come or some shit like that. Positive thoughts, positive energy! I worked my way to the front of the place, crowded low to squeeze by people. Thank God you lost weight! I was blocked, stood on my tippy toes to find an opening. The woman standing next to Shirley, I spoke with her before the reception. She’s talking to Shirley as if she works for her?!? SHE DOES! I struck up a conversation with this lady before the event because she looked like the tiny lady from Poltergeist who told Carol Anne, “… do NOT go into the light.” It turns out she’s Shirley’s publicist. Holla!

“Hi there, do you think…” I pointed to my camera. “Of course,” she said, and then in a loud voice (very reminiscent of the lady from Poltergeist) told people to move so I could get a photo with Shirley. I stood there and but could only say “Thank you,” over, and over, and over again. “Thank you, um, oh, thank you, ugh, thank you…” what the hell Scott, say something, “…um, thank you,” aw shit!
I’m in heaven. I just met a living legend. That’s it, I can die now. Well, no, I can’t, that would suck. I still need to backpack through Europe and fall in love. But I can certainly scratch this off my life “To Do” list!

While walking out I spotted my acquaintance from earlier whom new Eric McCormack. We chatted about the evening, he gave me his complimentary box of cookies (I had already eaten mine). As we chatted Eric McCormack, his wife and John Pyper-Ferguson came up and stood with us while they waited for their cars. Thank God the valet service sucked, we were out their for twenty minutes!

We chatted over cookies (I was about to throw up, but I was willing to suffer the pain, and increase the waistline, just to spend a little more time with them).

“I’d take these cookies over a cocktail anyday,” I said.

“I don’t know about that,” Eric said.

Pointing to the word “Love” that donned the top of all the cookie boxes, “But these were made with love,” I said.

“I’ve had many a cocktail that was made with love,” Eric said.

“Well, made with love I doubt, but I’m sure it resulted in love,” I said, causing Eric to chock on his cookie.

OMG, I just made Eric McCormack choke on a cookie from one of my jokes. He had a laugh induced choke because of my joke, WTF! What if he died from it? Would my claim to fame be for killing the beloved star of “Will & Grace?” I can’t let this happen, I should do mouth-to-mouth. Wait…

They left and I stood there, rubbing my belly to soothe the pain, looking out at the cars passing on Vine. Did tonight really happen? I couldn’t stop smiling.

God, I love LA!

Is it just me or are cutesy names demeaning? Not even cutesy though, just any pet name people use casually with others. I suppose I’m uptight - whatever. When somebody calls me darlin (never darling, always darlin), sugar or honey I’m automatically turned off to them. What’s the point of calling me that, I have a name! Use my name in a cute way if you must, Scotty, Scooter, etc. I actually enjoy being called Scotty!

When I was fat people would call me big guy, which really made my blood boil. It was like a confirmation from them, as if they were telling me, “Yes, I recognize just how fat you are.”

The only time that I feel it’s appropriate to use cutesy names for people are if 1) you’re a native of the South, 2) a very old lady who enjoys making pies and 3) a drag queen. All else should cease use of these words immediately.

******BTW – Check out the new Rilo Kiley album “Under the Blacklight.” I was tapping my toes to it this morning.

Last night I saw an early screening of The Kingdom starring Jamie Foxx, Jennifer Garner, Chris Cooper and the yummy Jason Bateman (ever since “Hogan’s Heroes,” seriously, wow!). It’s about “… a terrorist bomb detonates inside a Western housing compound in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, an international incident is ignited… FBI Special Agent Ronald Fleury (Jamie Foxx) quickly assembles an elite team (Chris Cooper, Jennifer Garner, and Jason Bateman) and negotiates a secret five-day trip into Saudi Arabia to locate the madman behind the bombing… Fleury’s crew finds a like-minded partner in Saudi Colonel Al-Ghazi (Ashraf Barhoum), who helps them navigate royal politics and unlock the secrets of the crime scene and the workings of an extremist cell bent on further destruction… the team is led to the killer’s front door in a blistering do-or-die confrontation. Now in a fight for their own lives, strangers united by one mission won’t stop until justice is found in The Kingdom.” Quite a nail biting description by Universal Pictures.

It was good but uber-violent, buckets of blood everywhere!

Is it just me or does anybody else find it difficult to take Jamie Foxx seriously? I look at him and think of that lady he played on “In Loving Color” with the big lips, what’s her name? Ever since Ray he’s turned all serious, where’s the funny man? Jamie, put away the skull and dust off your old mask, it’s time to lighten up.

The man sitting next to me was rolling a blunt for the first half of the movie. I’m big on micro-managing my life to make it flow more efficiently but I feel that’s taking it a bit too far. Personally I like to keep my blunt rolling to the confines of a sketchy stall in the back of a dirty public bathroom.

Whatever happened to a little social decorum? I’m not uptight, in fact I think many of my friends would say I’m fairly free-spirited, but there’s certainly a level of behavior that’s just not acceptable. Rolling a blunt in the movie theater, flossing at the dinner table, aggressively picking at your ass while waiting in line at the bank; these are just things you don’t do (all three things I just mentioned I have witnessed in the past week - I’m beginning to think that I might bring this poor quality out in people).

BTW - Check out Miss Lori’s blog today, she’s keeping St. Louis real!