Tag Archives: I Will Run For Dessert

Say Cheese and Wedgies!

Pop quiz, hot shot! You see someone dressed like the pic below. What do you do? What…do…you…do? (A gold star for anyone who gets the movie reference.)

For the love of God, pick your wedgie!

Hopefully, you answered in one of two ways:

  1. Whip out your camera and snap a picture.
  2. Stall, stall, stall the specimen while you call Misty to tell her you have an excellent specimen for Weekly Whacked.

I’m working on developing (BWAHAHAHA!) my camera skills, so I don’t have to bother Misty. In the past, when I’ve seen someone dressed funny, I whip out my camera, and then…I chicken out.

Luckily, I got some practice at the Warrior Dash, where people tend to run the obstacle-filled 5k in costumes.

I saw fairies:

Clap your hands so Tinkerbell doesn’t die in the fire!

Some ladies turned it into a formal occasion. Bad idea, ladies! Dresses will hold a lot of mud and weigh you down!

I missed the women running in their wedding dresses.

If you don’t want to run the Warrior Dash, you can “Jump On It” and dance the Tonto like Papa Smurf.

Papa Smurf doing the Tonto dance.

I also saw Ironic Mom’s babysitter.

Cat in the Hat…but I don’t see Thing 1 and Thing 2.

 Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I got the audio book and pretended we were hanging out in the car and Jenny was telling me a story. That’s kind of as weird as showing/not showing her your shirt, right?”—The Suniverse


When You Gotta Go, You Gotta Go

On Saturday, Kiefer and some friends ran the Warrior Dash; I did not. Because I don’t like mud. Or wet shoes and socks.

Look at how much mud is on Kiefer. ::shudder:: 

No, Kiefer, you will not be receiving a finish line hug from me.

Once we parked, people kept walking by us into the woods. Thinking it was a short cut to the starting line, I headed in to scope it out.

Only it wasn’t a shortcut…it was a bathroom. And not just for guys, women were doing it, too.

Thoughtsy: (running back to Kiefer whispering) Oh my god, people are peeing in there!

That’s when I realized I had to pee. So I had a choice: Wait in a long line at nasty port-a-potties, or drop my pants behind a tree.

I opted for the tree. Because I didn’t want to be seen pantsless To be polite, I waited for everyone else to vacate the woods before heading in.

Do I really want to do this? I can’t even remember the last time I peed in the woods. Why break a 20-year-plus streak? 

Maybe I should ask someone to come with me? Girls pee in pairs, right? And this seems like a horror movie. What if there’s a crazed killer in these woods? I can’t run away with pants around my ankles. I can see the headline now: Blogger Dies In Her Own Pee.

Ewwww…wet grass just touched my ankle. DID SOMEONE ELSE’S PEE JUST GET ON ME?!?! Please be dew, please just be dew…. 

Finally, I did it: I peed behind a tree. Then some lady came traipsing into the woods, so I cut it short. At least my bladder was half empty (this is the only time “half empty” is optimistic).

Afterwards, my only comfort was Kiefer. He’s hoping to go camping soon, and my only input into the trip has been: “There has to be a bathroom and shower.”

Kiefer: I can’t believe you did that. I’m so proud of you. I’m seriously impressed. You just made my day.

I think he’s potty training me to go camping.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Serves them right for eating healthy dessert.”—Miss Four Eyes