In Case You've Wondered

My blog is where my wandering thoughts are interspersed with stuff I made up. So, if while reading you find yourself confused about the context, don't feel alone. I get confused, too.

If you're here for the stories, they can be found by clicking the labels button "stuff I made up".

One other thing: sometimes I write words you refuse to use in front of children, or polite company, unless you have a flat tire, or hit your thumb with a hammer.

I don't use them to offend; I use them to embellish.

jescordwaineratgmail.com

Saturday, August 13, 2011

I'll try to put this delicately.

As I was driving this afternoon, I saw a women that was, obviously, taking her afternoon run. She had the steady pace, the arms in exagerated motion and was running like she had......I don't mean to be crude....she had a chafed whutsit.

If this was an isolated incident, I'd just think: "Oh, that poor women is so determined, she'll keep her routine, even with a chafed whutsit", but that's not the situation. I've seen this a few times in the last few months, so I'm beginning to think I'm in the dark about something.

Is there some new exercise fad I haven't heard of? You know, a special exercise move? A move, if you incorporate it in your run, will eliminate another 10 calories? (10 calories is the same amount of calories you receive from smelling a donut at 20 feet.) If so, I don't think I like it. It really looks strange, and I know I'd be really embarassed to speak with someone if they should happen to stop in the middle of their run to have a conversation. What would I say? It would be a little personal to ask if there was a problem, or offer advice.

Anyway, maybe somebody can help me with my ignorance. Until then, my advice is to run like you're supposed to and stay at least 30 feet away from donuts.

1 comment:

  1. I don't run, so I can't speak as to chafed whutsits. However, I have been victim to scratched whozits, inflamed woohoo, and even a gnawed hootiemagig.
    I can't go on, the memory is too painful. Like a canker on my whattlefiz.

    (PS... I'm a big fan of creative euphemisms, actually. One of my favorite songs is the Penis Song by Monty Python.)

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