I have a few loose ends to tie up with my weekend discussion. This seems like the right place to do it. It's cheaper than hiring that damn skywriter again. Plus, I didn't care for his font.

First off, my last post made it sound like I really hated the Stinson Beach run on Saturday. It really was an excellent run and I had about as good a time as one can have during a brutal trail run where I often feared for my life. At one point, during a gentle downhill, I was cruising along and feeling good. A great song came on my IPod and I found myself singing along while running all alone on this beautiful wooded trail. It was a pretty good moment that I'll remember for a long time. It came to an abrupt end when I stumbled, pulled some muscle in my calf, and screamed in pain, but still.

That night we went out to dinner with our best friends and some visitors that they were hosting from out of town. Our friends, knowing that I tend towards social reclusiveness, did their best to prod me into talking, urging me to tell my weathered and worn stories. They turned the organ crank and off I went. On the plus side, they gave me tasty bananas. It was a pretty good evening though, right until my daughter exploded into tears of boredom. I guess she's heard my stories too many times.

On Sunday night we went to see The Incredibles. You are probably not familiar with this movie, due to the studio's total lack of marketing, but you should try to find an artsy theater in your area shows these types of independent films. It combined cutting-edge hair animation and hilarious Ayn Rand philosphy.

Oh-so-clever sarcasm aside, it was a good flick.

The best part of the trip to the theater, however, was the bathroom hygiene enhancement I learned. Frequent readers of this blog (that's you, wife) will recall my issues with urinals and public bathrooms in general. It's a constant battle against the forces of urine and feces in the men's room.

Anyways, the guy next to me at the sink did something I hadn't seen before. He grabbed his paper towels BEFORE washing his hands. That's brilliant because it has always annoyed me that I wash my hands in these filthy places, and then am forced to touch the same towel-dispenser that previous patrons have licked, peed-on, or had sex with. By getting his towel before washing his hands, this guy solves that problem. That is sweet. The only bathroom obstacle that remains is the door.

Finally, I got some feedback from the wife that my writing would be funnier if I let the readers infer a bit more of the humor. Too many words, apparently. On that note, I leave you with this joke:

Me: Knock knock
Overly critical wife: Who's there?
Me: Fed up husband
Overly critical wife: Fed up husband who?