It’s casual Friday in Pittsburgh.

Friday we had a girls people who like boys night at Porch.  It was supposed to be good (recommended by multiple people), but I highly UN-recommend it.  The food was gross and the service was terrible.  Plus, it looks like a cafeteria inside. 

I caught up on errands (groceries, dry cleaning, frame store, haircut, gym, etc.), since it was my first weekend at home in a month.  I missed the memo framing costs so much- before I forked over a few hundred dollars (?) I should have just taped my bar admissions to the wall in my office to see how long they would stay up before turning yellow and curling at the edges).

Saturday night date at Dinette which I DO recommend. (highly.)

THEN we went to this crazy-wtf BYO video game arcade on the Southside.  Think ghetto bowling alley meets Dave and Busters meets some creepy pedophile’s house with stuffed animals everywhere.  It was so bizarre.  Once I got over my initial shock/disgust, I actually had a really good time playing skee-ball, buying Cow Tails with the tickets I won, mixing my fountain soda with the nippers we brought, and last but not least posing for at least 3 dozen pictures with the life-size stuffed boxer on a leash by the door. 

Also, this:

-crepes outside in the sun at noon

-shopping on Walnut St. (cardigans and work tops, new jean shorts, 2 necklaces from Banana, a scarf, and other things I probably definitely didn’t need)

-a nap (2 hours! mmm)

-a run

-huge salad & beers, followed by gelato, all outside

-amazing people watching (the best was the 3 year old girl getting gelato with her dad and baby brother.  inside the store, she pointed to no fewer than 9 flavors that she wanted when her dad asked.  she had a mullet and an accent.  outside on a stoop, she was eating her cone so neatly.  and when her dad gave her brother a few bites of his gelato, she scolded him and said “no mas papa! la crema! la crema! no mas!” in her adorable accent.  I looked like a pedophile staring at them and smiling awkwardly.)

-now parked on the couch for baseball!

This weekend was for a visit with the parents, semi-fine dining, long walks, a serious talk, and a good April Fool’s joke.  Some high/lowlights:

• First, I got a large shipment of goodies.  Remember when I spent too much money at Forever 21?  The bad news is that I’m going to return approximately none of it.  The good news is that I now have 15 fabulous new pieces of disposable clothing. 

• Judy and Arthur arrived on Saturday- we ate lunch in the Strip District, walked a billion miles along the rivers, my mom made a Dutch friend in Starbucks and talked to him for half an hour (get this— he’s a PhD student studying juvenile crime, but there’s not enough of it to study in the Netherlands.  ugh, so sad.  and Pittsburgh is not exactly the most dangerous city on earth…), went to the Phipps conservatory, and generally behaved like lame tourists.

• Last night, we went to Salt of the Earth.  It was good, but inevitably disappointing, given that so many people have raved to me about it.  Still deee-licious.  Particularly the deconstructed s’mores served with hickory-smoked Golden Grahams (?). 

Okay, so here was the real issue: headcheese.  The whole menu is on a chalkboard, written daily.  As an app, I got white asparagus that came with fried headcheese.  On the board, it had a “v” next to it- vegetarian.  So it came, and there were 4 little fried balls- fried cheese, duh.  I ate one, and it was delicious.  Then I gave my mom half of one.  And when I cut it open, it was pink inside.  Hmmm.  So then I realize it’s meat.  (Misnomer, much?)  Fine- I’ll try most things once, and I like some kinds of meat (read: cheeseburgers and brisket).  Then I realize it’s pork.  Not okay- pork grosses me out (except for when I am hungover and decide it’s okay to eat a crispy piece of bacon at the diner- I make my own rules in life).  So I didn’t eat the rest of it.  And I can never eat it again- Chris just googled it.  You don’t want to know what it is.  I didn’t want to know, but it got the better of me.  Gross.  And also, liars.

• Tulips are pretty.  So pretty.  That’s all.

• Also, I learned today that vanilla comes from orchids.  Why did it take me almost 3 decades to figure this out?  Did you know this?

So I guess this is one of those few.

I’ve done only a few “long” runs.

And what I was most worried about when signing up for the marathon self-torture was my shins.  I’ve always gotten shin splints from running too much.

But what I should have worried about instead was my knees.

Maybe this is what happens when you’re 28.5 years old?

Or maybe this just proves my point that marathons are not good for you and are completely unnatural and I was never supposed to be doing this to myself.

Or I have bad form.  Or whatever else.  I don’t care.

So, I found out about this guy while researching ways to train injury-free.  He’s obviously legit- look at that fancy webpage.  Plus, he has a Wikipedia article. 

I’m trying to decide if I would feel like I was cheating by doing his walk-run method.  On one hand, I want to say I ran a marathon.  But at the same time, can’t I still say that if I’d end up running for 3+ hours of the race? Run 3 min, walk 1 min, repeat until you die?

And then the totally self-conscious, lame part of me is dreading the thought that people think I’m out of shape and/or didn’t train enough and that’s why I’m walking 3 minutes after the race starts.  As a spectator, I’d probably turn to the person next to me and say, “Wow…she has 26 miles left and she’s already walking!” while laughing hysterically.

The end.  Carry on.

We celebrated Katie’s birthday: I gave her tickets to The Clarks concert later this month.  She got me into them, and I’m so excited- I haven’t been to a concert in forever. 

I slept.  A lot.  Too much.

I went to the mall.  Returned a thousand things that have been sitting around waiting for me to overcome my laziness.  I was shocked at the amount of Steelers gear in Victoria Secret (and in life here, generally).  As in, black bras emblazoned with their logo.  PINK sweats in black and gold, sequined/sparkly jerseys, etc.  I know I should be used to this type of thing by now.  But I’m still not.  Maybe one day.  Only maybe. 

I made a new friend. 

I convinced an old one to join match.com.

Was pleasantly surprised by Bad Teacher.  I’m on a lucky streak with movies!

We ate at Boston Market today.  Against all logic and intuition.  It was necessary because we needed greasy, salty, hangover-curing food. 

This is what it looked like: First of all, we used a coupon.  I fancy myself as a somewhat thrifty shopper (as in, I price-compare with things like cheese and yogurt but not things like ketchup or ziplock bags), but I’m far from a coupon clipper.  When I “clipped” this one, Chris told me I should get pouch for coupons like they have on Extreme Couponing.  (Help.  Also, that show needs a blog post all its own.) 

So we get there, and before we can say anything, the woman behind the counter says, “We don’t have any chicken.”  (Ok?).  So Chris got a pot pie and I got a 3-side meal: mashed potatoes, hot orange mac and cheese, creamed spinach (plus cornbread!).  Go ahead and judge.  I was judging myself.  I still am.  Anyways, when we left, we both decided we had been poisoned.  Too full, too salty, too much indigestion.  I told him I was too sick to sit in the car and go to a car wash.  He told me he had heartburn for the first time in his life.  You can’t just poison people. 

• a 2 day work week
• pretending [fairly unsuccessfully] that I have a house-husband for the next 2 weeks until school starts again
• eating and drinking as much as I want before the January detox I’ve convinced myself I’m doing begins
• family, friends, repeat
• low-key new years plans
• my NEW PURSE (thanks, Santa)
• seafood a thousand times in the last week
• having this (which is no longer available….and yea, I’ll post links to a random person’s pinterest page (board?) who I’ve never met if I want to)
• cheese

[ok, ok, I stole that word from Zooey]

So, I haven’t been around here much the last few days.  But that’s because I was busy showing my sister how beautiful Pittsburgh is.  No, seriously.  She said it reminds her of Budapest!  And so did Joe!  [I’m going to pretend Budapest is beautiful, since I’ve never been there.]  And I was also busy shopping and eating and drinking and generally consuming too much of everything.

On that note, my new Midwest BFF introduced me to the phrase “over served.”  I love it.  I was certainly over served last Thursday.  And likely this past Thursday/Friday/Saturday as well.  Although I think it’s funniest when it refers to adult beverages, it’s also funny when it refers to food.  I mean, why didn’t someone stop me from ordering that much Thai food? 

Related: I had a discussion recently about chopsticks.  Is it worse when you order food for 2 or 3 and they give you 5 pairs of chopsticks or 1 pair of chopsticks?  One makes you feel bad about yourself (clearly, this is enough food to feed a family), and the other makes you feel bad about yourself (she is obviously going to eat all of this herself). 

And on that note…ONE. WEEK. UNTIL. THANKSGIVING.  Wahoo!