Man, you guys are in serious need of some new running clothes. I say that because a butt-load of you entered my giveaway. Some of you are poor, some of you have running clothes that are down to their last threads (how can you go out in public like that?), some of you just like free things and would probably enter a giveaway if it was for a turd, and some of you are just running clothing whores who, like me, can never have enough. Never.
Keep posted, I'll select a winner on 2/16 (can anyone tell me how to do that random generator selection thing?)
Well, it's not just about the running gear over here. Yours truly went swimming today (and not in the Boulder Reservoir). I decided to swim with my bathing suit over my underwear to see if anyone would notice.
Do you think I'm that ridiculous? Really? I only do that if I don't have time to shave.
In actuality, it was a great workout. 2100 meters or 84 lengths. I did this swim workout. Even if you are a runner who thinks you are a stud and too cool for swimming pools, this workout will kick your butt if you do it right. Timed swim intervals are no joke. And tonight? More Bikram yoga.
Prior to swimming, however, I needed to use the facilities (what would any of my posts be without some bathroom-related disclosure?). I changed in the locker room and headed into the stall. Naturally, the stalls are in the middle of the locker room, as in there is no (soundproof) door leading to the stalls, just the stalls.
So, I sit on the pot to take an innocent piss. No number two was in the picture as far as I knew. As I pushed a tad bit to let the pee out, a rather loud and airy fart escaped. No biggie, I suppose. But here's my question: Why does the damn echo in the bathroom have to be so loud? I mean the fart in and of itself was no big deal, but that echo. I might as well have been farting into a microphone. The worst part is that after you let one fly of that magnitude, you have to walk out and mingle in the locker room with everyone who just heard you fart. You know they are stealing sideways glances at you wondering who owned that explosion. They are too polite to say anything, but they are judging you wildly in their minds. It's all they can do to get out into the parking lot where they can call their friends with the news. "OMG! This old lady with underwear on under her bathing suit just cut a really loud one!" If only anyone really cared that much.
After my workout, I did my usual 10 minutes of relaxation in the hot tub. Only today wasn't so relaxing because a bald, gold chain-wearing, Peruvian, 64 year old salsa dancer tried to pick me up. And not lift me up. But pick me up as in "Hey baby, want to get it on in the stall?" I said, "I would have except I just farted in there." That was my signal to get out of dodge.
Speaking of getting picked up, my husband sent me this picture today. Everyone who owns a pet should have one of these on hand especially if you are having a dinner party. Personally, I think that the baboons at the zoo with those pink assholes should be required to wear them: