Thighs and whispers

Item 1: Bootcamp, hereafter referred to as Buttcamp. Done two nights so far and can hardly sit, stand, climb stairs, put on socks, tie shoes or anything else that requires bending from the waist or the stretching of the tight strings of ham on the bag of legs. Jeesh. I haven't been this sore since my short-lived attempt to try out for cheerleader in eighth grade. One week of 7 a.m. workouts took all the pow out of those pompom dreams. Buttcamp meets in the early evening on a stretch of public park on a very exclusive boulevard. Tonight our drill instructor told us that the just-cleared plot of prime corner property across from our workout spot will one day be occupied by the Idiot-in-Chief and his wife, the First Chainsmoker, with occasional visits from the Twit Twins. I can't get away from them... At tonight's Buttcamp it was a thick 77 degrees. By the time I got home and peeled off the sweatwear, it was 55 and dropping. Winter arrives, meaning tomorrow night's Buttcamp could include ice hockey. Camp meets rain or shine. Drill Instructor brooks no absences.

Item 2: If you're a James Taylor fan, you'll love his son Ben's 10-song CD "Another Run Around the Sun." The boy inherited his dad's pipes and his crisp diction. Gorgeous stuff.

Item 3: Ricky Gervais has two free podcasts up on The Guardian website. I'd listen to them again--as always, he's assisted by writing partner Stephen Merchant and their halfwitted sidekick Karl Pilkington--but I'm afraid if I laugh too hard I'll snap something I might need later.