I have no idea what's going on with me lately. I'd like to think I'm painted with some type of infrared paint but regardless I seem to be on fire.
Earlier today I was jogging down the street in a neighboring development. I was breathing to Billy Joel - Uptown Girl, one of my favorite repeat songs. To inform those of you non-mouth-breathers, when I jog my duplicitious multi-track mind essentially forces me to breath to the sounds of music. Otherwise I will drive myself insane. So I was inhaling to half of Billy Joel's lyrics while exhaling to the others. I had been jogging for roughly a mile and a half when I rounded the next corner.
The last "words" I breathed were 'I bet her momma never told her why?' - when it happened.
Whoosh... Knock.
Headshot.
This experience might have been worth it if the Unreal announcer had said so.
I stumble, utterly dissoriented out into the street while trying not to fall down.
"Wh-se-ch-wh-th-gid-shit?" were the approximate lack of words that exited my mouth.
"Hey, sorry can I get that back?" Asked the probable cause of my headshot.
"Uh." I replied, still completely dissoriented. Then my hearing kicks in and I hear the ball bouncing near the gutter and instantly spot it. Slick.
"Here ya go." I replied after I picked up the ball and returned it to him. So much for playing where it lies.
As I regained my composure I began to realize how fucking rude this douche was. He hit me in the head, didn't ask how I was and simply asked for his ball back. If it wasn't for Billy Joel, I'd have flipped out.
So I continue to run and round the corner with the club playhouse-park in the development I am running in.
Fortunately the song playing gives me my second wind: Britney Spears - U Drive me Crazy.
I dominated the remainder of the hill, crazily. As I arrived at the top I was met with yet another surprise.
Whoosh!
Yet another golfer hit a ball out on the road, near me. I run daily and I have no idea how this happens but what am I to do? The golf-ball lands on a lawn on my side of the street as a golfer emerges.
"Yo bro, can I grab that back? He asked.
Not mentally handicapped this time around, I decided to question him.
"Depends... what stroke are you?"
"So are you going to give me my ball or what?" He asks.
"It was a simple question, no reason to get insecure about a game." I retorted.
"Then just throw it over dude." He replied.
"Sure man, as soon as you tell me your score - I'm curious." I responded.
"I'm six over can I please get it back now?" He queried.
"Don't you mean seven over?" I quipped.
Now he looked a little confused. "I don't get it," he replied.
This is the part where I'm an asshole. I threw the golf-ball in the complete opposite direction from the golf-course, faced him and retorted "wrong, you're seven over." Then I sprinted off while singing the chorus to "Oops I did it again," over the sound of my breath so that hopefully I wouldn't be the day's only victim of another...
Reality Check
Earlier today I was jogging down the street in a neighboring development. I was breathing to Billy Joel - Uptown Girl, one of my favorite repeat songs. To inform those of you non-mouth-breathers, when I jog my duplicitious multi-track mind essentially forces me to breath to the sounds of music. Otherwise I will drive myself insane. So I was inhaling to half of Billy Joel's lyrics while exhaling to the others. I had been jogging for roughly a mile and a half when I rounded the next corner.
The last "words" I breathed were 'I bet her momma never told her why?' - when it happened.
Whoosh... Knock.
Headshot.
This experience might have been worth it if the Unreal announcer had said so.
I stumble, utterly dissoriented out into the street while trying not to fall down.
"Wh-se-ch-wh-th-gid-shit?" were the approximate lack of words that exited my mouth.
"Hey, sorry can I get that back?" Asked the probable cause of my headshot.
"Uh." I replied, still completely dissoriented. Then my hearing kicks in and I hear the ball bouncing near the gutter and instantly spot it. Slick.
"Here ya go." I replied after I picked up the ball and returned it to him. So much for playing where it lies.
As I regained my composure I began to realize how fucking rude this douche was. He hit me in the head, didn't ask how I was and simply asked for his ball back. If it wasn't for Billy Joel, I'd have flipped out.
So I continue to run and round the corner with the club playhouse-park in the development I am running in.
Fortunately the song playing gives me my second wind: Britney Spears - U Drive me Crazy.
I dominated the remainder of the hill, crazily. As I arrived at the top I was met with yet another surprise.
Whoosh!
Yet another golfer hit a ball out on the road, near me. I run daily and I have no idea how this happens but what am I to do? The golf-ball lands on a lawn on my side of the street as a golfer emerges.
"Yo bro, can I grab that back? He asked.
Not mentally handicapped this time around, I decided to question him.
"Depends... what stroke are you?"
"So are you going to give me my ball or what?" He asks.
"It was a simple question, no reason to get insecure about a game." I retorted.
"Then just throw it over dude." He replied.
"Sure man, as soon as you tell me your score - I'm curious." I responded.
"I'm six over can I please get it back now?" He queried.
"Don't you mean seven over?" I quipped.
Now he looked a little confused. "I don't get it," he replied.
This is the part where I'm an asshole. I threw the golf-ball in the complete opposite direction from the golf-course, faced him and retorted "wrong, you're seven over." Then I sprinted off while singing the chorus to "Oops I did it again," over the sound of my breath so that hopefully I wouldn't be the day's only victim of another...
Reality Check
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