I admit I was a little nervous having friends over to watch my national TV debut on the big screen, not knowing how I would be portrayed. The crew kept trying to instill a sense of competition with the relatively friendly backpackers when the show was taped last year. With people like Amarosa claiming that editting is to blame for her unseemly portrayal, I was naturally hesitant to watch myself.

So, I got drunk on delicious mud slides and sat down to enjoy the show. And enjoyable it was. I came across as pretty true to myself. Fat in the face and spunky. A couple of choice lines made me laugh. With 10 minutes to go, and me struggling to set up my stove, they asked what I was going to make. My answer, "Whatever I can in 10 minutes." Honest. "You haven't tried peanut butter Oreos? You haven't lived." "Where's my cheering section?"

I got a surprising amount of airtime, given I was never in the top three slots all around, despite my pancake victory. I think the camera time was due to my spunk, my high entertainment value.

They showed one clip of me three times. Unfortunately, it was a rather private moment. I was feeling dejected, and it appeared that Kevin was about to feel my chest while trying to comfort me. In reality, he was massaging my shoulders and arms as a way to telling me to hang in there. I was too drunk to notice the molestation innuendo. Or perhaps Mr. Casey (too many Marks were there - had to resort to last names) was drunk enough to see it, for I believe he was the one who called it out. Who knows?

5 friends remained until the end of the evening, eating more pancakes, trail mix, and drinking. We played Loaded Questions, and Mr. Casey cleaned up, putting his strong intuition skills to work, before we called it a night at 2:30AM.

I should have turned off my phone, but instead left it on and was woken up with its ringing at 8AM. It wasn't the paparazzi. In fact, it sounds as though no one I know watched the show except the baker's dozen or so of my friends who sat in the theater room with me. But that's just fine. It's all about the quality of people and not the quantity, and I had supreme quality. Plus, I believe I will have a tape and DVD coming my way, so I can bore friends and generations to come with my goofy campfire cook-off escapade.

On limited sleep, I showed up for my ritualistic Nike run last night. Wanting to avoid the dog that the cute, tall, tan boy brought to the run, I told Helen we'd have to speed it up. I'm not sure what steroids I've been taking, and her caffeine pills did not seem to be kicking in, because I was the spunky one running like I was 25 last night.

I mentioned looking at escaping to a local casino... for work, of course. No really. I don't like to gamble. But understanding the behavior of gamblers is now a core part of my profession.

I saw that Kool and the Gang will be playing at Cache Creek. Man, that made my office mate and me smile, remembering the tunes from the 80s. When I mentioned Kool and the Gang, with that odd sort of zeal and twinkle in the eye that nostalgia can bring, she looked at me quizzically and said, "What's Kool and the Gang?" (Actually, since she had never heard of them, I'm sure she was thinking, "What's Cool and the Gang?") She reminded me she was born in 1980. She is but a "yute," to borrow a word from My Cousin Vinnie.

Helen and I are applying to be pace leaders for marathon training sessions. She was planning on running the marathon and twisted my arm to participate. I wanted to become a pace leader because it's the quintessential Christina thing to do. She learned that you get free gear and a little bit of money, so she followed along.

In the application for the position, we were asked why we want to be a pace leader. I replied with this:

I’m energetic and cheerful, with a positive attitude, a friendly demeanor, and an ability to chat about topics ranging from the mundane to the deeply philosophical. I’ve found conversational abilities come in handy during longer training runs, as people begin loosing steam and wishing for some distraction to help make the time and miles seem to pass more quickly. I have a wealth of stories to share and an empathic ear to listen.

An experienced mentor to students of many ages on topics as diverse as kick ball, typing, and entrepreneurialism, I sense when others are on the verge of throwing up their hands with frustration and defeat, and I enjoy encouraging them down a path toward achieving their personal goals.

Perhaps most importantly, I’m a peer to the “every woman” that the Nike Marathon is trying to reach. I will never be mistaken for a super model or an Olympic athlete. I’m a young professional who happens to like to run and happens to have a little experience in that area.

Years ago, I was an avid runner, participating in cross-country and track and even setting a middle school record. A minor knee injury over a decade ago, followed by the convenient excuses of my foray into the business world plagued my one-time regular running habit. During the past few years, I ran sporadically, usually with my Team-in-Training pace leader friend, relying on youthful stamina, entertaining conversation, and mental focus to get me through our weekly 12-mile runs. The day after I turned 33 this year, I accepted that my youthful stamina was aging, and I embraced that I had achieved enough success in my career to indulge in time away from jockeying a desk. I began running regularly, rediscovering why I had been addicted for so many years. An evening run is the perfect way to transition from work back to life.

I would love to share my enthusiasm for running while meeting and encouraging new people.

Helen wrote this:

I like to run.

The funny thing is, Helen is more likely to get the job than I am because Nike is seeking to attract the 18 - 29 year old demographic. While I have the spirit, lung power, and leg strength of someone in my 20s, being born in the 70s may seal my fate as merely a participant in training runs rather than a leader.

Damn yutes.

I was chatting with my office mate today. Told him how I went out to dinner rather late last night, got home, farted around a bit, then went to bed at midnight. He asked when I got into the office today. 6AM. For some reason, it wasn't until I said it out loud and did a little basic subtraction (addition's tricky pal) that I realized how ridiculous this lifestyle is that I lead. It's really no wonder that I seem to feel a bit tired all the time and wallow away unscheduled weekend hours napping.

I went with the responsible option of maintaining employment. The positives:

*A regular paycheck with a predictable stream of income that is enough to keep me in a plush bachelorette pad with cable TV
*Health insurance - I rarely use it, but it seems prudent to have
*The out by 1PM on Friday policy of the new team - that merits a few stars
*Access to a phone, computer, and printer... my previous analyst pointed out that it would be easier for me to conduct a job search having this infrastructure
*Bagels with lox on Fridays
*Upcoming trips to Vegas and Atlantic City
*Inherently interesting space, given my nerdy fascination with customer behavior
*200 calories per day burned on my walk to and from the office
*Ability to take some of the vacation time owed, since the company doesn't pay out vacation when an employee leaves
*Opportunity to hang out with my work friends on a daily basis
*Having a clear answer to the question of what I do for a living
*Learning to model high capex businesses
*Continued use of the blackberry, an incredibly handy device, particularly for personal use
*Seems like the analyst is really making an effort to have this work

Figuring that my best option was to remain employed, despite my gut feel that I should take severance, I put on a happy face and went to speak with my new analyst. I figured he would likely be feeling hurt, given I had slighted him somewhat by wanting to explore options on other teams. What can I say - he has a bad reputation as a boss.

He left me with two thoughts. One, if I wasn't enthusiastic over this position, I should save him time and leave the firm. Two, he was unsure of the quality of my work because he hasn't seen any of my models or read my reports. If I'm not up to snuff, he will let me know quickly so I can find employment elsewhere.

Obviously, I left with a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. I can't wait for the fun to begin. I don't know why I didn't jump on the band wagon earlier!

Funny, I came in to work today late, and apparently looking like hell, for my office mate commented that I seemed in dire need of a vacation. Despite my full night of rest, I feel like hell. Eyes are tired. Appetite is lacking.

During the conversation when I officially accepted the position with HR, I told them about my interactions with the analyst. She was concerned at the clear lack of warmth. She needed some time to make some calls and see what was up. During those moments when I thought I may have no option but to take severance, it's interesting how I started smiling more, my appetite returned, and I had a general spring in my step, pondering the possibilities of teaching English in China, seeing Tyler, going for 12 mile runs in the middle of the day, and generally chilling until all hours of the evening because there would be no need to set an alarm.

I spend an unbelievable amount of time trying to figure out what it is I want to do with my life. I'm reminded of business school conversations with Damon. We both felt blessed that we had so many opportunities, yet also lost for it. It was so rewarding to see my students last weekend and hear how many of them have put skills they learned in my classes into action in the real world. Yet, it's also a great feeling to make a call on a stock and see it come to fruition. It's fun to experiment in the kitchen and create a delicious meal. I'm one lost soul swimming in a fish bowl, year after year. And for now, my business card still reads equity research associate. Put on that happy face!

I spent the weekend and morning getting ready for a trip to LA. I was going to be attending E3, a video gaming conference. Heard last week that the analyst was also considering other candidates. Nice to know the competitive landscape. We were all going to decide our fates next Monday. So, I was packing up to head to the airport, looking forward to seeing Amrita, Emily, and Karen, and spending time with the analyst to determine whether we would be a good fit with one another.

HR called me as I was packing up. I found out that the analyst had to make a quick decision on who to hire, and he went with the guy with video game experience. I was offered the job of working for the gaming and lodging analyst or of getting laid off with a month of severance and qualifying for unemployment. Here's the kicker. I had until tomorrow 10AM to decide. Great. Lovely. Hopefully that shoe mark will wash off my ass.

My sister's sage brevity and perspective is so refreshing. A snippet of our conversation last night that had me laughing.

Sis: Hey, waz up? What are you doing?

Me: Just watching TV. I'm kinda bummed cuz I got dumped this morning.

Sis: Who's the guy?

Me: A Mormon dude. (As my friend Robert put it, "Mormon's are hot!" And this one happened to be smart and moral.)

Sis: Be thankful.

Me: Why? Because I'm not Mormon, it wouldn't have worked out?

Sis: No, because he is.

I made my capitalist pilgramage to Omaha this past weekend. Highlights included many laughes over the company movie, and the entertaining rapport between Warren Buffett and Charlie Munger. I am a new Charlie Munger fan. The guy is the perfect straight man. We also dined at Gorat's, where I ordered a t-bone steak on the rare side of medium rare. Unfortunately, it came out more medium than rare, and of course, when the second attempt arrived, in an attempt to over-correct the problem, it was still moving, and my friends had finished their meals. We waited over an hour past our already late reservation time, and my guests were tired, so I wrapped it up my side of cow and figured the chill of the Omaha evening would preserve my little slice of heaven.

Having arrived a little early on Friday (flights are limited), we hit the mall and, just as I suspected, the small sizes remained on the sale rack. Bonus. I don't know why retailers can't figure out that size distribution issue. I had even mentioned it when I worked at the Gap, but no one wants to listen to reason there.

My whilrwind trip to middle America ended with a rather unfortunate incident on my flight back to the West Coast. A very large woman seated in back of me thought I was out of line for reclining my seat the 4 inches allowed in order to avoid sitting at an acute angle. She glared. She jammed her flesh into the back of my chair. She really gave the meanest stink eye I've seen in some time.

Not to be outdone by dumbo, and attempting to take a higher road, I finally had to turn around to the slovenly lady and ask that we work together to find a middle ground and that we carry ourselves with dignity and have mutual respect for one another. She said she didn't appreciate me lying in her lap. I bit my tongue so as not to state that it wasn't my fault that her lap extended into my chair. I'm sure it's all Krispy Kreme's fault. I know how damaging criticism of weight can be on a person. Shit, why do you think I own a fat monitoring scale and weigh myself at least 3 times a day? No matter the level of her rudeness, I didn't want to scar this lady for life. Heart disease, diabetes, and other ailments would surely befall her, presenting their own set of challenges. And with her horrid personality, she doesn't need an insecurity complex topping off the life she has chosen.

I arrived to San Jose quite hungry. Rather than buy a Cinnabon or CPK, which is what I enjoyed on my outbound trip, I ripped into the raw meat and enjoyed the filet side of my t-bone. I would have paid handsomely for a couple of minutes of Delonghi grill use, but the quality of the meat was delicious enough to compensate for the temperature.

Whizzed off to San Diego and had a nice hike with Robin. It had been my first exercise since last Wednesday, when I was attempting to twist Helen's arm into being a marathon pace leader. I get odd ideas of invincibility at times.

We enjoyed some amazing sushi. I saw fatty salmon and fatty hamachi on the menu, and I had to try them. Man alive, that was some good shit. For everyone out there freaked out by parasites, y'all just aren't living. Some tastes and textures are well worth the risks.

I enjoyed 9 hours of sleep, and picked up my boss from the airport the next morning, heading to our company meeting. In the car, we chatted about personal stuff. He wanted to know how long it had been since I had seen Tyler. "Way too long" will always be the answer, even if I just saw the little guy.

Then out of the blue, he springs on me that he has decided not to pick up coverage of my space. What does this mean? I am again a free agent, marketing myself internally and externally to get a job. Paychecks can stop at any moment.

Maybe I should open a Curves or Jenny Craig in Omaha. Apparently, there's a high need.