Conversations I'm Pretty Sure My Dogs Have: The Voice

Probably a true story. 


Goblin 1: Hey, where's Mom?

Goblin 2: Probably still arguing with her bike.

G1: Wasn't it her body?

G2: Yeah, whatever. She knows that bike has like 24 gears, right? I mean, that's pretty much enough to get her up Everest, so I don't understand what all this bitching and moaning over some hill is all about.

This is horseshit, it's almost 8pm! If she isn't here soon to feed us dinner I swear to god I will eat that pair of boots that I've never so much as sniffed and she has wrongly assumed are safe to leave on the shoe rack because we've always left them alone.

G1: Also, she's going to make us miss The Voice, and she's way too cheap to get a PVR.

G2: I am NOT waiting to have to watch it OnDemand two days later.

G1: Well, if she would just learn to pedal faster, then we wouldn't have to.

G2: Blake is really falling behind on building his team this year, and I want to see if he picks up anyone good.

G1: Adam really scored with that Avery Wilson, eh?

G2: OMG, such a wow moment. Just raw fucking talent.

G1: Agreed. But I really liked Nelly's Echo too. Maybe because we are part evil, but the emotional manipulation those shows try to pull with the sad backstories usually makes me feel completely unmoved. But that guy? Shit, he made me want to cry little goblin tears.

G2: It was pretty dusty in here.

G1: Okay, if you could pick any of the coaches, which one would you choose? Don't even think about it, on the count of three we'll both just say it.

One, two, three--

G1 & G2: BLAKE!

G2: The tallness?

G1: The tallness.

G1: And kind of a babe!

G2: Such a babe. He's got that assertive charm.

G1: And he seems funny. I liked that he brought his award.

G2: Never heard any of his songs though.

G1: Nope. Me either.

G2: Fuck, Mom. We're missing our show!!

G1: Oh, I just heard a bike on the balcony. You better go put her boots back.


-Natalie Bell (Mom) would like everyone to know that although her bike does have 24 gears, she's still the one powering it. It's not like the gears are pedaling the bike for her, okay?

An Open Letter To My Body After Day 5 of Riding My Bike To/From Work

Dear body,

We've had a pretty good relationship over the last 28 years. Together we've been through good times, bad times, swim times, sexy times, and lots of nap times. We've made it through some shit together, you know?

When our back got hurt, and we ended up in the hospital, and they loaded us up on Percocet, I tried really hard to take it easy and nurse us back to health. Sorry though about the time that I didn't really think the Percocet was doing anything because I was still in a decent amount of pain, and I decided I didn't want to take them anymore because I am stubborn and also don't like taking medication. Turns out, the medication was doing a whole lot, but I didn't fully appreciate that until we were in a movie theatre, 30 minutes into the cinematic gem Stealth, and I was writhing in pain. The combination of feeling like I was being aggressively prodded with fiery hot pokers while simultaneously being beaten with unusually large phone books, both physically and intellectually, was enough to convince me that I should stop being an idiot and listen to doctors, but that I should also never let the boys pick the movie.

Recently though, and by this I specifically mean in the last five days, I feel as though we have come to a rough patch in our relationship.

I bought Dad bought (Thanks, Dad!) us a bike with images of us happily gliding along, the wind blowing in our hair, breezily riding down by the ocean, any worries or cares swept out with the tide. It appears that you feel differently.

I anticipated that at first we'd be feeling the effects of having used the necessary bike riding muscles as frequently as never. I even mentally tried to prepare us for some preliminary soreness and minor aches. I thought we were in this together, body. I thought we were in it for the long haul; that for awhile it might get hard, but we'd push through just like we always have. I thought wrong.

I thought I knew you, body.

Today, while riding up the one hill on our way to work, I felt as though you were violently trying to quit me. You let our quads turn into puddles of pathetic non-strength, our calves felt weak and atrophied, and small children casually strolling down the street probably would have lapped us. Yeah, I realize I could easily choose a route that involves zero hills, but you know me well enough to know that I always make things harder than they need to be. And no, we're not getting off the bike and walking up the hill; we're not delicate flowers. I don't even feel real feelings anymore, just a constant, throbbing pain. What the fuck, body? That old couple waiting at the cross walk could even see how gassed we were, and started cheering us on. I had to tell them that it really was a bigger hill than it looked. I'm pretty sure they laughed while we rode off. 

Do you see what this has come to? Old people laughing at us. Well keep laughing, jerk. I'm eating a big fucking pizza tonight. Tomorrow you're dealing with that hill on your own.

See you on the road, asshole,

Me