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Jett Superior laid this on you on || November 13, 2008 || 10:09 am

Hey, have I ever told you about the time that….

We were jogging along, Tess and me. We were jogging along on the track, and there wasn’t much banter this morning, because nature has decided to stamp mornings ‘fucka* cold’ and we’ve yet to adjust to the change. We won’t be able to run outside much longer. Sharply cold air makes Tess asthmatic, so in the late fall and winter we are pushed indoors.

I didn’t used to hate winter, but I am becoming Not Its Biggest Fan because of three things. One, it never seems to snow here in the South anymore; as you may well know, extreme cold minus piles of snow equals sux0rs. Two, I’m very cold sensitive all of the sudden in the last two years; cold sensitivity means life is substantially less pleasant than when, say, I was living in Alaska and would tromp calmly down the drive to the mailbox in little more than a jacket, boxer shorts, and wool-lined Sorels. Thirdly, during the winter I have to do the hateful thing of being fixed to a machine indoors for thirty minutes to an hour, depending on how long it took me to wrestle myself from Maxim’s beautiful warm side that morning; I look forlornly outside almost exactly like I did when I was five with chicken pox and could not accept my mother’s very reasonable explanations as to why I must keep my face pressed to the front door, peering mournfully out, for just a little bit longer.

Pretend I wrote a paragraph here to skillfully steer you from that little rabbit-chasing endeavor and back to this morning’s events. You have a healthy mechanism for Suspension Of Disbelief, don’t you? I’m asking that you employ it here, which would make a record of some sort, because I’ve never requested that particular thing of you, oh generous Muffinasses. Not actively, anyway.

So there was not much joggy banter, and when this happens it is fair easy for me to get lost further and further into myself, allowing my body to auto-pilot, which is something it mostly likes, I think. If my body could reasonably hop up out of my bed each morning, leaving my spirit and emotions lolling there, I think it would do so with great relief and gladness. I’m pretty sure my body is of a mind that it has all its shit together and is only being slowed down by my emotions, which are unruly, and my spirit, which causes somewhat of a ruckus. My poor body, the responsible sibling, the structured one, the no-nonsense part of my overall being.

That’s where I was this morning, sliding further down, down, down into myself, into a still and concentrated place while my body handled the mechanics. Tess was focused only on breathing, her mouth covered by a loosely-knit scarf, so she didn’t much want to converse. I sometimes have a tendency to ball my hands too tightly when I run, so I was occasionally flexing in the opposite direction, shaking the cold off of my fingerless gloves, keeping everything flowing, keeping hand-sweat at bay. Frozen hands when you are a half-mile in lend sincerely to a desire to call a halt to a decent run.

So I was inside, coming up only just enough to release-flex-release my hands when two older gentlemen approached us going the opposite direction. The one closest to me, he gave a pleasant enough ‘hello’ while the one to the outside of the track waved. And so far inside was I still that I raised both hands in line with my waist, planning to wave, when both middle fingers shot up and I found myself giving double birds to two non-offending, complete strangers.

“WHOOPS!” I turned my head and shouted, “WHOOPS, MY GOD, I AM SOOOOOO SORRY!” A quick glance at Tess showed eyes so wide that the orbs themselves were on the brink of tipping full out her sockets to plink to the ground and roll away.

Somebody, someday, should save me from myself. Or at least point me toward somebody else who can.

*‘fucka’ is about four degrees more intense than ‘hella’

6 worked it out »

  1. cIII 11.13.2008

    Perhaps, a healthy dose of the Double Duce is just what those fellas needed.

    Who knows what hi-jinx they were Bound to get up to later on. Perhaps, your action was Proactive.

    And, if no Foul intentions lay ahead….It’s still Funny.

  2. Carolyn...Online 11.13.2008

    You flipped off random joggers. With both hands. Awesome.

  3. Jettomatika 11.13.2008

    I does what I cans.

  4. Captain Dumbass 11.16.2008

    Top o’ the morning to ya!

  5. mongoliangirl 11.18.2008

    Sometimes I ask my husband to hold hands with me while I’m driving. Yeah, it’s nice that we’re holding hands and all. But often it is because I need help not flipping people off.

  6. Jettomatika 11.18.2008

    My daddy gave me a handgun to carry for protection when I moved back to Memphis from Alaska, because the only house I could afford to buy at the time was in a somewhat ‘questionable’ neighborhood.

    We were out running around town one day and when he saw the extent of my road rage, he popped open the glove box, retrieved that weapon and said, “Welp, I guess I’ll be taking this back home with me today.”

    His version of holding my hands to avoid the flipping(out)-off, you see.


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