The ant saga continues. For several weeks I have had the pleasure to live without these unwanted house guests. My neighbor on the other side must have done something to send them back my way… and there must be one hell of an ant nest inside that wall. I am on the second floor for Pete’s sake. Today they found another way around my latest caulk block. My friend Jason thinks I should train them to carry me around. It sounds like a good idea in theory, especially when I need a free ride home from the bar, but I bet training ants is hard. Plus they probably can’t hear me with their tiny ears and I’d have to gain access to the Queen. That, and it would totally negate my current exercise regimen. I tried to give them the opportunity to hang out somewhere else, but it’s time to break out the poison. Prepare to die ants.

I hate bananas. I hate things flavored by bananas and I hate real bananas because the texture is bothersome.

So I recently started eating bananas. A very wise man (Jason again) told me that it will stop me from bruising so easily (I daily find multiple random bruises on my arms and legs and I have no idea how they got there. No, I believe most of them are not because I blacked out. I’m just a klutz). It also seems that bananas give me superhuman strength. I forced one down this afternoon and ran 7.6 miles (God love, and it was on purpose, not because I got lost again. And, I’m high! (Because of the running, der). Totally worth consuming one of these nasty things a day. Plus its easy to cover it in peanut butter.

This was the first run in awhile that I didn’t take my phone with me to document random things I saw. Bad day to make that decision. I saw a woman who runs with one leg and walks with the other. I know it sounds impossible but its totally true. And she was wearing a red turtleneck, red jogging pants and a red bucket hat. I’m also pretty sure I saw George W out there. Does he run? Without a shirt and without secret service? Regardless, I used ol W as a pacer for awhile. I then had a homeless person join me for my last 2 blocks. He kept screaming at me and I kept yelling back “I can’t hear you! I have my earphones in!” He was nice.

I’m wondering if the bananas are also making me want to dance. I used to get annoyed when my friends Jane, Lynda or HP would drag me out for late night dancing. Its not that I don’t like to dance, but meat market clubs with bad music are just not my style. When I shake my ass it’s usually after I have had enough drinks at whatever dive bar I’m at to be the only one dancing and not care. But now that Jane and Lynda are both incubating mini-humans and HP is shaking her tail in the windy city, I haven’t been thrown out on the dance floor much and I am finding myself kind of missing it. We caught a little two steppin at Continental over the weekend and I’ve had the Whitest Boy Alive on repeat for the past week. Might finally be time to visit the Broken Spoke after 4 years, or show my face again at Plush.

DJ Benson Wilder, my friend, I’m coming to see you! And Casey McCanse (I know you are reading this), dust off your dancin shoes.

Prepare to die.

“Do not spray near food preparation surfaces.” Where the hell do they think ants hang out? If you don’t hear from me in 24, I’ve gone down with the bugs.

Happy almost Friday, friends.