i don't like french cut green beans
perhaps you do. it seems like just when i'm chomping along, in a medley with other (once frozen) veggies, a stem always, always manages to just *show up* and screws up EVERYTHING. i hate them. and they don't taste all that great, why there are countless dishes that cater to the little bastards, i'll never know. i'm very anti.
(once frozen) corn: now this is your veggie moneymaker. yeah baby, yellow goodness.
in other news, loving this break in fall. got to run in the park on tuesday afternoon, but have been treadmilling it otherwise. there is this smug little prick who always gets on a machine or two next to me. yes, mary, you have bigger arms than i, but my legs are bigger. and i go faster, even though your 'look at me, i was once a dancer and i'm soooooo flexible' stretches you do after are so for the benefit of everyone else but your short little legs.
and when you push the speed because you know my ego cannot handle it and will, in turn, up the speed because i will NOT be outrun (because it's all about me, of course), it makes me want to smack the sandpaper-like-gym-given towel on your ass. (you DO have a nice ass, by the way, i have to give credit where it is due.)
but on friday last week, when you caught me peering at you in the mirror after the shower? no, mary, i wasn't hitting on you, it was my passive aggressive way of telling you to use a further machine next time. but you didn't yesterday, or today, and, again, i outran you. so keep it up, sweetie. continue to try to coax a treadmill-induced cardiac out of me. i will die going faster. and whatever you do, do NOT use the third treadmill from the left, in the back. that's wilma. she and i have a history: a place for my ipod and where i can tuck my towel so it won't fall during the run, the only one (probably from the 90s) that has such a slot. i won't just outrun you on an adjacent treadmill if you are on wilma, i'll stare at you the whole time. i take my running THAT seriously. and we all know i'm not right in the head.
(once frozen) corn: now this is your veggie moneymaker. yeah baby, yellow goodness.
in other news, loving this break in fall. got to run in the park on tuesday afternoon, but have been treadmilling it otherwise. there is this smug little prick who always gets on a machine or two next to me. yes, mary, you have bigger arms than i, but my legs are bigger. and i go faster, even though your 'look at me, i was once a dancer and i'm soooooo flexible' stretches you do after are so for the benefit of everyone else but your short little legs.
and when you push the speed because you know my ego cannot handle it and will, in turn, up the speed because i will NOT be outrun (because it's all about me, of course), it makes me want to smack the sandpaper-like-gym-given towel on your ass. (you DO have a nice ass, by the way, i have to give credit where it is due.)
but on friday last week, when you caught me peering at you in the mirror after the shower? no, mary, i wasn't hitting on you, it was my passive aggressive way of telling you to use a further machine next time. but you didn't yesterday, or today, and, again, i outran you. so keep it up, sweetie. continue to try to coax a treadmill-induced cardiac out of me. i will die going faster. and whatever you do, do NOT use the third treadmill from the left, in the back. that's wilma. she and i have a history: a place for my ipod and where i can tuck my towel so it won't fall during the run, the only one (probably from the 90s) that has such a slot. i won't just outrun you on an adjacent treadmill if you are on wilma, i'll stare at you the whole time. i take my running THAT seriously. and we all know i'm not right in the head.