According to the weather guy (or maybe he’s the anchor, I dunno…I don’t usually watch this channel) on channel 13, Vacaville had a tornado touch down twice this morning. It blew a bunch a crap around in a couple of back yards and knocked some roof tiles loose, but I think that’s it. No one was injured.

He said it was an F-0 tornado.
He probably should have just said, “Vacaville farted today.”
Or perhaps belched.

In any case, while this tornado was blowing crap around peoples’ back yards, I was probably sitting right here where I am now, staring numbly at the computer screen, wondering why I was so freaking sleepy. I didn’t even know the weather was less than desirable—I had opened the blinds in my office for the cat, but I never noticed anything. Except for some candy wrapper bouncing around on the ground outside. That could have been a clue. At the time all I thought was “damn kids.”

When I went to check the mail, it was nice out. Bright and sunny and probably 50 degrees.

(I point that out so that those of you who are shivering in the cold and have been shoveling snow all day can sneer and call me names, maybe even flip off your monitor.)

At some point I wandered into the spare room and flopped down on the bed in there. I hadn’t intended to take a nap, but I was walking by the room, and…well…I woke up an hour later. My presence in that room distressed the cat, who jumped up onto the bed and looked at me like “This isn’t your bed. Go to your own room. I want to sleep here right now.”

So I took the nap I didn’t intend to, and now, when I should just begin feeling sleepy, I’m wide awake.

Which leaves me time and brain power to ponder the might fart that Vacaville let loose, wondering if all the crappy weather of late is a result of the tsunami from December 26.

If a butterfly flaps its wings, and all that…

In other news…we watched the “final” of The Biggest Loser tonight. The guy I was rooting for didn’t win, but it doesn’t matter. I was just amazed by how much weight the participants all lost and how good they looked. During the first episode I told the Spouse Thingy that I could so totally do that show (surprising myself because I’ve never felt the urge to even contemplate doing a reality show) and after watching the last, I still want to do it.

I could do it.
I certainly weigh enough to qualify.
I’m pretty sure I’ve missed the deadlines to apply for the second season…but damn. I think I was born to be a big loser.

In the nicest way, of course.
I don’t even necessarily want to win (though the money would be nice.)
I’ve just always wanted to go to fat camp for grownups.

Kids have fat camp and it looks like fun.

Grownups do too, but it’s like $10,000 to go.

Yeah. If I had 10 grand to blow, I would probably have a whole lot of disposable income and could hire someone to cook for me and hold a shotgun to my back to make sure I work out more.

If I did that, whomever was behind me doing the .22 motivational training would probably be subjected to my own personal imitation of Vacaville this morning.

I’m rambling.
Still tired, but there’s no way I can sleep.

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