I got up early this morning so I figured that I'd go run in my woody lakefront area. I don't know what it is about runners, but the faces that they wear when Richard Simmons is shouting words of encouragement in the back of their head drives me nuts. It's like this mixture of an "IT" surge plopped together with a look of determination to lose that extra biscuit batter/make it back to your bathroom in time before you have an accident at your kid's bus stop.
I hope nobody throws hot coffee on my eyes. Fuck that I hope I don't get nabbed and wake up spleenless. I just hope I don't run over fresh dog shit, actually.
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