Desperate Housewife…

4 Oct

This morning was not perfect.  I was running late and once I got to my building, I couldn’t find my ID tag to scan myself in.  Wish we had eye scanners because I never forget or lose my eyeballs, right?  Had to stop by the security desk and ask Mr. Rent-a-cop to let me in.  Seriously if anyone were to take over our building….they would just take over our building.  Our security guys are ding-a-lings and they don’t make me feel safe.  They’re no John McClane (Bruce Willis) from Die Hard.

I wore an old but favorite outfit.  Everybody kept asking to see my pants.  Seriously people, they’re not just pants unless they’re really long pants that I’m able to pull up over my boobs….

My outfit’s from Bar III and my sweater’s from American Eagle.  I wore some $10 shoes (Pierre Dumas) I picked up in Mexico about 6 years ago.

I was supposed to finish up mowing today but after yesterday’s little mishap, decided I should give myself (actually the mower) a little break.

Started my run at 5:09pm and ran 12.68 miles with an average mile of 8:14. (Can you see the nasty poison ivy rash on  my lower right arm?)

Shazaam!!  Not really.  I was dragging the whole time.  Heavy legs.  Sucks.  Not sure why I’m struggling.  It’s not the weather because it was sunny and 70.  If anything I should have worn a tank instead of my “Desperate Housewife” shirt because I got HOT. 

Probably TMI but I took a picture of the chaffing under my right arm (nothing on the left one).  I don’t get chaffing often but when I do….OUCH!  Body Glide to the rescue.

I showed Mick my war wound and he poked it before I could pull away.  Arsewipe

I annoy Mick all the time and he’s pretty good about not annoying me.  One thing that he does that drives me a little nutty is when he approaches me (in his truck) while I’m running and expects me to stop mid-run to have a conversation with him.  One, I have my phone and I wear microphoned ear buds so, “Call me if you want to talk”.  Two, he never wants to tell me something important.  If anything he offers me a ride.  Derr… Three,  yer messin’ up my pace, man! 

Because I chose to run instead of make dinner for my boys, Mick said to meet up with them at the local Mexican restaurant (he never wants to leave town for dinner).  I’m not sure why I agree to it because every time I eat there, it just doesn’t sit well.  I’ve yet to find something on the menu I like.  Don’t get me wrong, I like Mexican food but I don’t like our local offerings.   Chicken taco salad for me = indigestion burps for the rest of the night.  Suckee Suckee!


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