Have you ever completely lost it at somebody? I came very close today. I had to cut the phone conversation short and go outside for a walk to cool down. Now I am not an easy person to upset, but today I came perilously close to hopping into my car, driving to Virginia, grabbing an architect by the shoulders, shaking her violently, and screaming, "This is not a gallery we're talking about! It's a *&#@%$^ A/V closet! Nobody cares if the diffusers are square or round! Why can you not just believe me when I tell you something won't work?! Why must I draw 47 diagrams, sections and elevations just to prove to you that every one of your cockamamie ideas is unusable?! Who made you believe you could be an engineer?! Do you really think you can do my job better than me?! What have I done for you to mistrust me so?! Why can you not believe that when I bring you something, I have made #$%* sure that not only will it work, but it's the best possible solution?!"

Thanks. I feel better now. Now I know how my parents have probably felt from time to time.

I feel the sudden urge to call and personally thank every architect that has not made me want to shoot myself in the face.

So after the empowering exercise of completing a triathlon last weekend, I was admittedly cocky going into this morning's 5k run. Big mistake. I stunk up the joint. Really. I got smoked by an 8-year-old. (Although I'm insisting that the fact that he probably weighed less than half as much as me was a distinct advantage.) But really, there's no excuse.

I'm also thinking that kraut dog and chocolate empanada I had last night wasn't such a good idea.

I'm not usually a big fan of guys with long hair. I don't mind the soccer hair. You know, the crazy, curly, tousled look. But I won't stand for anything long and flowy. Thick and shiny, thin and ratty, doesn't matter. I think what it comes down to is vanity. If I pair up with a guy, I don't want there to be any doubt that I'm the one with the better hair.

Do you have an ogler in your office/place of work? Some colleagues and I were talking about the (or rather, an) ogler in our office. You know the guy. The one who, if you're a woman, rarely looks at your face when talking to you. It's funny how oglers usually think they are being discrete when in fact, they could not be more obvious. I'm happy to report that our ogler, after being reprimanded by a male colleague and suffering some initial embarrassment, has made a full recovery and is virtually ogle-free.

No, I am not dead. I've just been reeeeally busy. But I've never felt better. I finished my first triathlon! It wasn't pretty. In fact, it was probably near unbearable to watch. But I somehow managed to hold it together for 1 hr, 58 min. until I crossed the finish line. Boy, was it a struggle. Fortunately, my dad was sweet enough to sneak in and do the 3.5 mi. run with me. He coaxed and cajoled my whimpering (literally) butt to the finish line. The thing was so emotionally taxing, once I finally stumbled through the gate, I balled like a baby. Good times.

I'm already looking for another tri. So if there's one near you and you'd like to see Sara nearly have a meltdown, send me the info and I'll try to fit it into my schedule.