I'm meant to do a run today, because, well, it's a day. But I don't know if I can. It's too hot for my Irish genes. I come from small hairy stock, who were designed to scratch out an existence and survive tough winters in damp caves. I can't handle this California heat. Woe is me!
Monday, April 20, 2009
Heatwave!
It's almost 100 degrees here today. Craziness. The sweat was pissing out of my armpits and running down my face and up my nose at yoga (downward dog). I was totally pitting out before we even started. All the MILFs were glowing to boot. By the end of the class it looked like I had slaughtered a goat (but one with sweat for blood) on my mat.
I'm meant to do a run today, because, well, it's a day. But I don't know if I can. It's too hot for my Irish genes. I come from small hairy stock, who were designed to scratch out an existence and survive tough winters in damp caves. I can't handle this California heat. Woe is me!
I'm meant to do a run today, because, well, it's a day. But I don't know if I can. It's too hot for my Irish genes. I come from small hairy stock, who were designed to scratch out an existence and survive tough winters in damp caves. I can't handle this California heat. Woe is me!
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How's that hangover going, James? I'm sure you've sweated out any remainder of it by now.
ReplyDeleteAye Steve, they take about 3 days to be truly gone now that I'm old... just done with it today.
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