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Friday, May 02, 2008

Runs in the family

If you are a runner living in an urban or perhaps suburban area, you no doubt have experienced a person or persons on the street yelling something at you. I'm not a female but I imagine that females hear grunting noises like "mmmhmmm!", followed by some sort of invitation for them to stop their run and go get intimate with the stranger. These invitations are probably similar to "Hey baby, how'd you like to come back to my place and run yourself up and down my cock?", or "Hey baby, I've got an eliptical for you, right here (gestures to crotch)!

Male runners unfortunately do not receive these kinds of warm sentiments from women often. Instead, males - or maybe it's just me - get yelled things from teenagers thinking that they are more clever than they actually are. The best one I've heard is "You can't run from your problems!". True dat. More common, unfortunately, is "Run, Forest!", and the jackass always laughs in a self-satisfied way that is clear that they think they are the first person to ever think to yell that at a runner.

This can occur at any point in your run. If you hear this at mile 12, your brain may not be able to think fast enough to return fire on the little prick, and you may find yourself not being able to sleep later because you want a bucket of hot epoxy to be poured over the little twit's face. This is why it's important to have a comeback ready for when this occurs.

The last time I got the old "Run, Forest!", I was on Independence Ave crossing 14th St SW. A fat kid yelled it in a southern accent. The little peckerhead was with a few of his contemporaries, who appeared to be in the 12-14 year range. Somehow I immediately came up with a retaliatory shot.

"I take it that the only thing that runs in your family is obesity."

Had I been wearing contacts or stopped to observe the target, I surely could have done some more damage, but the job got done. Others at the intersection laughed and clapped and the little bastards didn't say another word.

There are undoubtedly other powerful patriot missiles to fire at the scuds of asshole tweens, but put that "the only thing that runs in your family --" in your arsenal. Observe the punk. Quickly identify his (or her) flaws, particularly those that could be genetic, and stick it in their ear.

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  • At 2:24 AM, Blogger Joe said…

    best thing I've read in a long while


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