We have a greenway near work, and one of the Alexes was walking on it when she stumbled upon a man having a time with himself. She didn't literally stumble upon him, thank god. Anyway, when she noticed him, he said, "Oh. Sorry."
Sorry! He was the perv with the polite.
"To be fair," I said, "that greenway really is lovely."
What would make you say, "Hey, I'm on a walkway, watching people power walk with hand weights like it's 1982. I simply must have myself." What? What would compel you?
Did I already tell you this, I can't remember. Not long ago we had a noon meeting, and is there anything more cruel than a noon meeting? How about a one o'clock meeting, which means you have to go to lunch at 11:45 and scream back? Anyway, we'd been served lunch at said meeting, which included Ruffles.
Because we didn't actually GET a lunch--lunch hour is time, not food--my coworker Molly and I walked the greenway after the meeting. We passed this woman in running shorts and a sports bra with no abdomen whatsoever. I mean, there was just muscle there where there should have been, well, anything else like mounds of flesh, which is what seems normal in an abdomen to me. She was almost literally abs of steel. She had a 47-pack. We're talking ridges of muscle.
"...Well. My Ruffles have ridges, anyway," said Molly, making it officially one of her best lines®.
Anyway, lots of action on the greenway lately.
In other news, I had dinner with Marty and Kaye yesterday. Here's Marty, pretending all this beer was his. Who adores his own self?
And here's Kaye, watching Marty adore his own self. Aaaaand we're back to self-love on the greenway. Oh, sorry.
The best part of the evening is that Griff, of Thus Saith Griff, showed up with his girlfriend, who is cute. You can imagine their delight when I started capturing them on film. I am a pleasure of life.
I'm pretty sure that's all my news that's fit to print, and is anyone really printing this? Do you know what I wish I had? Is a printout of every post I ever had. But to do so would be hundreds of dollars at Kinkos or whatever. Maybe if I got everyone to take, like, a few months and print them for me at home or if they sneaked it on the printer at work, I could have a paper version of all my stupid posts. I looked into making them into a book, but hello nine million dollars. This is a lot of text, almost nine years of daily blogging.
If anyone has any ideas re this, let me know.
By the way, I've typed this entire post with a Tallulah on my lap.
Convenient. Don't say a word about my hair.
S-headedly,
June
