Pooper Scooper and the Hazards of Walking

This one is an oldie, but still a goodie for a laugh … even if it’s at my own stinky expense!

When I can talk myself into it, I put on my iPod and blast Springsteen and Tom Petty for the next two and a half miles while I speed walk on the horse trail in my neighborhood. I’ve never seen any horses, only people and pet owners who think the trail is a lavatory for their pets.  About a mile and a half into my walk, I saw a big clump of poop and I side-stepped to avoid it.  I twisted my ankle on a small hole in the ground and I fell face first. My face missed the other turd ahead but my hands landed splat on them.

Insulting Blog Comments Make Me Wanna Rant

The other day, a commentator from another blog called me “immature” and “vapid.” This was because “said” blog  posted a “rebuttal” about one of my posts.

If you’re thinking why is Lafemme being so cryptic?

We want to know what post she’s talking about!

Well … let me just say that the post in reference had nothing to do with “schlong whackings” in fact it was a rather sweet post about a man’s love … investigative noodles will figure this out. Anyway, I was okay with the “immature” comment since I’ve always believed that I’m a “mental” 12 year old … my noodle just refuses to EVOLVE.

I’ve been 12 for decades!

BUT VAPID? First I didn’t know what the hell that word meant, but all I know is that I felt soooooo

Don’t Flirt on my Time

Patience is a virtue but not when I’m in line at Starbucks. I should have gone to the drive through, but the angel in me said that I should park and walk it because I could use the “exercise.” Big mistake … I walk into a long line. I hate lines and couple that with the slow as snail baristas and my patience melts away like a glacier in hell. While waiting I try to entertain myself with the knick knacks on the shelves and ponder the logic of buying a coffee maker there when I can buy a cheaper one at Target or Wal-Mart.

Pooper Scooper and the Hazards of Walking

When I can talk myself into it, I put on my iPod and blast Springsteen and Tom Petty for the next two and a half miles while I speed walk on the horse trail in my neighborhood. I’ve never seen any horses, only people and pet owners who think the trail is a lavatory for their pets.  About a mile and a half into my walk, I saw a big clump of poop and I side-stepped to avoid it.  I twisted my ankle on a small hole in the ground and I fell face first. My face missed the other turd ahead but my hands landed splat on them.