Y’all thought I had joined the track team or something, didn’t ya’? The day I sprint, would be the same day the pig flew over the chocolate moon and took a bite out of it. It’d look like a massive batch of Jell-O Jigglers during an earthquake up in this here joint… me sprinting.
“Sprinter” obviously refers to the season between Winter and Spring in which Mother Nature’s PMS gets WAYYYYY out of control and she unleashes all of her mood swings at once… usually she is crying and frigid. Women anyway… geez!!!!! Example… I decide to test my shopping cart handle germitis and venture out on a short walk Friday afternoon (after 8 billion days being cooped up with the heebie jeebies). Looked like a glorious day… and by glorious, I mean the regular grey clouds and no sunshine days that we are so used to here during winter. Ten minutes into the walk and it starts snowing from out of nowhere! It’s like the heavens opened up and were all like… “Whitney, thy buttest should growest on the couchest!” It’s a conspiracy, I tell you! And then to make matters worse it starts tornadoing (aka mildly windy)… so it’s snowing and tornadoing and here I am hacking up a lung caught out in the middle of it. By the time I got to shelter I looked like a drowned rat… so, now I’m convinced I just caught pneumonia (hypochondriac, what’s that?) Note to self: return broken ruby slippers… clicked heels 3 times and chanted ‘there’s no place like home’ and was still sitting in the middle of said tornado.
I’ve decided in order to get my outdoor walking in I need to move to Bermuda… either that or Hell because I’m pretty sure it don’t snow near the flaming pitchfork in Hell. Oh, sprinter… how I dislike thy PMS!
Question of the Day: What did you do for yourself this weekend?