Friday, July 25, 2008


I have had something(s) to drink every single night this month. No, I’m not in college anymore. If I were at the docs office filling out one of those lame “medications and lifestyle” questionnaires, I’d have to pick option D below:
How many alcoholic beverages do you consume weekly?
a. 1-2
b. 3-4
c. 5-6
d. 7-8+

I’m blaming it on the Tour de France. It’s not good and proper to watch Le Tour without a cold Hooegarden in hand.*And you can’t drink just one—just like betcha can’t eat just one! of those Pringles things. Hoogarden has some sort of jig set up, whereby opening one beer automatically pops a hole into the bottle next to it, forcing you to drink both. Quickly. So I do. Quickly.
But I don’t have a “problem” per se, with the frosties, because I’m pretty convinced that at the end of this glorious summer month, I would check the 5-6 box, if queried.
It’s been a pleasant enough summer, I suppose. I’m mad that July is almost over, though, and not just because it will take away my excuse to drink every night. August means that the fall is coming, and with fall comes the dreaded “The Dropping of Leaves” as I like to call it. That’s the process whereby the beautiful, verdant trees in these southern parts suddenly shed their foliage, leaving me quite depressed for three months. I'm especially not excited about the dreaded Winter-season of '08 that's so quickly approaching. I can already feel the pre-flashbacks that will surely strike me in January of '09 as "The Anniversary" of my breakup occurs. How convenient. It will fall during the most depressing time of the year. I'm digressing. I think it's still July.

Even though I’m literally leeching my inner parts of all their salts and fluids every time I run, I will miss the humidity once the fall comes. There’s something just sickingly refreshing about sweating out a few liters of fluid during my weekend trail runs. I feel so sporty as I wring out my shorts at the end of my runs. Of course, the fact that my pee is highlighter 80s-era neon yellow for the next three days is a bit disturbing, but no matter.

On a totally unrelated note, I’m totally enamored with dresses right now. You know, those cotton-y, stretchy numbers that are all á la mode this summer? Maybe it’s because wearing a dress takes the guesswork out of trying match my clothes. Always a struggle. I just throw on one of the stretchies, a pair of shoes that my beloved dog hasn’t chewed, and I’m on my way. Plus, now that I’m officially getting old, I figure I should show off my legs while I still got ‘em.

*Also known as the best beer EVER.

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