So Rebecca Called

First of all, check out the latest and greatest Strangerville Short, a brain-child of Jolyn Metro.




Second, this happened:

Ring ring

Eli: Becky! Bonjour! Il y a des ours gommeax dons mon pantalon!

Rebecca: You just said "Hello. There are gummy bears in my pants."

Eli: Oh really?

Rebecca: What did you mean to say?

Eli: That.

Rebecca: I don't have time for this nonsense right now. I have very important news for you.

Eli: Why do I feel like you're about to tell me you've already moved  back in with me and I'm going to find you in my house when I get home from work?

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

Yesterday I was standing in line for a full eternity to get a burrito because burritos. After about 28 minutes, I noticed that the person in line in front of me was none other than Mr. Perfect. I think. I don't usually see any of The Perfects that close and I have facial blindness (self-diagnosed but very real) so I didn't dare to say hi to him. Plus it had been like 28 minutes so it just felt weird to suddenly say hi anyway. Which brings me to my next point: I am 95% sure that I am calling The Perfects by their correct first names when I see them. Which means that there is a 5% chance I have been calling them by the wrong names to their faces for 18 straight months. And it is far too late at this point to verify. And if I find out I've been wrong this whole time, I'm going to have to move. To China.

I wonder if they have burritos there.

And now, your Pictures & Distractions:

Jolyn and I have a very strict dress code in Strangerville. 

Paul Simon

You guys.

The greatest thing that has ever happened in the history of happenings in the history of the entire United States of God bless Earth in order to form a more perfect union may the odds ever be in your favor with liberty and justice for all happened.

I, Eli Whistletalentationbly McCann, saw. Paul. Simon.

IN THE FLESH.

IN ALL OF THE FLESH.

I can't even begin to make up words to help you understand how excited I was sitting in my seat at least 45 minutes before the concert started, knowing that Paul Simon was in the same building as me. I swear to you that my heart was beating so fast that none of you have to exercise for a week. My heart was beating so fast that it reversed global warming and caused earthquakes in Djibouti.

Then the band walked out. All 12 or so of them. They walked out onto the stage that had eleventy billion different instruments on it, most of them something I believe Paul Simon invented because he wasn't satisfied with the crap us commoners use to create music.

Hot Yoga, Take 2

Remember how I went to hot yoga two years ago and I told you that I sweated so much that when class ended the instructor had to swim to the door and open it up and everything in the room came flooding out into the lobby like it was a scene from Titanic with exactly the same amount of nudity?

Well I did that again. I guess just exactly enough time had passed for me to not adequately remember how terrible yoga is and how it is made exactly 104 times more terrible when they make you do it in a room that is 104 degrees. Plus times 90 because that's how many minutes the class lasts. Plus bonus points because the instructor was super scary and she kind of looked like the Grand High Witch from that movie Witches.

My friend Josh has been trying to get me to go with him for a while. We're neighbors and there is a Bikram yoga studio at the end of our street, the same one I went to two years ago.

He finally talked me into it the other day. I was feeling weak. I would have agreed to anything in that moment. Bob and Cathie missed their single best opportunity to manipulate me into giving them grandbabies.

Because I hadn't been to this class in over two years, I really didn't remember much about it. I couldn't remember what I was supposed to bring. All I really knew was that I wasn't supposed to be completely naked. Just mostly naked. Like how I dress when I go to the dentist.

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

Matt brought two birthday presents to my house yesterday and said one was from him and one was from Mr. Pants. He assured me that Mr. Pants thought for a really long time before picking out the gift.

What was it? I'll tell you. Peanut butter. Mr. Pants got me peanut butter for MY birthday. Because that dog is selfish and only buys gifts for his friends that he wants for himself.

But I love him so much.

And now, your Pictures & Distractions:

Mr. Pants was sound asleep on my lap. And then I whispered "peanut butter."

Puberty is the True Hero

My oldest niece is in middle school now ("oh my gosh stop it Eli no way you look so young" "omg stop you guys!"). This means that she is transitioning from school activities and performances for which there is a direct correlation between cute and disaster to activities and performances that showcase legit talent. I think this is because by the time you hit middle school you can't rely on being cute anymore to get you through these things.

Because puberty.

Puberty is not cute, you guys.

OBVIOUSLY I'm not talking about your kid. Your middle schooler is obviously the exception and is oh my gosh so cute srsly.

But all of the other kids in the world that are in middle school: no more relying on their Gerber Baby faces. They have to start putting up something of value or they'll get eaten up by this monster of a world the rest of us created for them.

So tonight I attended my niece's middle school choir concert. To be clear, my niece is a perfect being of wonder and light and she has never and will never do anything wrong and if I knew how to work a camera, I would have been pushing parents out of the way at the front of the auditorium tonight to get an HD video of her breathing during tonight's performance. This niece was born on my birthday (OMG today (Wednesday)! Hashtag cake! Hashtag hard to know when it's my birthday because always cake!).

Pinkeye

Monday

Ring ring

Cathie: How's my baby boy!?

Eli: Still in his 30s, Cathie. I'm kind of freaking out. I think I got pinkeye and I wonder if I need to go to the emergency room.

Cathie: And what were you doing to get pinkeye, young man!?

Eli: Can we please not turn this into evidence that I was misbehaving and focus on a solution here?

Cathie: Well, the first thing you need to do is not come over to my house.

Eli: I think that plan of attack is only aimed at helping you.

Cathie: I need to hang up. I feel like I'm at risk right now.

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

Thanks for your awesome support of our Fourth episode of Strangerville! If you haven't listened to it 1,000 eleventy times yet, please make sure you do so now. It's what Santa would want.

I'm tired, y'all. So tired that I just said "y'all." Which, as you know, I don't even say.

Please help.

And enjoy your Pictures & Distractions:

Mr. Pants gets really dramatic when I won't give him peanut butter.

Episode 4: The World of Mothers

Exciting news! I have pink eye!

Wait. That's not what I wanted to tell you. I mean, I did want to tell you that. But the really exciting news is that Episode 4 of Strangerville is up and ready for you!

Take a listen to what Celine Dion is already calling "a work of art only matched by the drawing Jack did of Rose on the Titanic."

We are thrilled will Episode 4, which happens to feature at least one mother that I know you have all been desperate to hear from for a while now.

As usual, we shamelessly beg of you to please help us get the Strangerville word out by sharing Strangerville with your friends and family. We have been blown away by the response to Strangerville and we have so much more great content coming your way. We'll keep doing our best to bring you something valuable and you do your best to get the word out there. Everyone has a responsibility here.

THIS IS HOW FAMILIES WORK.

2016 Ironman St. George 70.3

You guys.

You guys.

You guys.

You know this is serious because I never say "you guys" three times. I don't even say that more than I don't even say "y'all." AND I LITERALLY NEVER SAY Y'ALL.

On Saturday I competed in the St. George half Ironman. This is the third year in a row that I've done this. You may remember that last year I complained at you about how Satan is the ruler of St. George Utah and that it is so hot there that you can see the heat from space.

FROM SPACE.

And then I told you that that cop/Oprah/not-Paul-Simon/ended-up-not-actually-being-a-cop-if-you-read-the-comments woman cheered at me toward the end of the race and this helped me power through.

WELL WHERE THE HELL WAS COPRAH THIS YEAR?!

What Even is Punctuation?!?!~~

I'm skipping Pictures and Distractions this week because all of the sudden it's May 5th which means I have to leave at like negative 5:00 tomorrow morning when it should be illegal to be outside so I can frantically drive all the way across the entire country to get to St. George Utah for the Half Ironman, which is on Saturday.

And I know. I KNOW. I told you guys I was never exercising again and that all I was going to spend the rest of my life doing was eat Oreos and watch trashy reality TV. So far I've kept my promise to you. Which is not great for my upcoming race. (But it's awesome for my thighs!)

And now it's already 6:00 PM and I haven't even started packing my gear and my phone is ringing off the hook with dramatic work calls like this isn't even America anymore and I have to go pick up Matt at the airport in like 2 hours so I don't have much time left with Mr. Pants and he keeps looking at me like this:

Stranger Hits BBC

In January this woman from the BBC reached out to me and asked if we could talk about something I wrote on Stranger in 2014 about the song Feed the Birds from Mary Poppins. I immediately assumed I was in trouble because everything sounds scary when it's said in a British accent. I've been trained to believe this by watching nearly two decades of reality TV shows.

We spoke over the phone and she said a lot of things like "lovely" and "golly gumdrops" and "would you like a spot of tea" and "Big Ben." You know. Things all British people say in all conversations.

International Driver's Permit

I'm going to be doing some international traveling in places that Bob and Cathie claim are "full of terrorists." Adam and I are going together and so last week we met up to make some plans. And by "make some plans" I mean "google the name of the continent we are visiting, scan exactly one Wikipedia page, and then watch all 13 new episodes of The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt."

Well, that's not entirely true. We did save time for a quick conversation about how we will be traveling around the Eastern European countries we plan to visit.

Eli: So we can just take a lot of overnight trains and buses.

Adam: You mean, like, at night? When there's sleeping?

Eli: Yeah.

Adam: . . .

Eli: . . .