I'm trying this repulsive habit called jogging, maybe you've heard of it? Usually I just put on my sunglasses, turn on my iPod for the old warm-up/distraction technique, and away I go. But today, today was different. Today, I learned a few things. I don't know if it was the crisp fall air that kept my mind unusually alert, or the fact that I couldn't find my headphones and was thus music-less, but I felt like I was hyper aware of my surroundings. I noticed a lot of things that would have gone previously unnoticed. First of all, there's hardly any wind in L.A. which is why everyone's bangs look so good all of the time.
Secondly, dusk is the perfect time to wash a car if you're a hairy old man with the same physique and wardrobe as Tobias F ünke. And no, those short shorts do not effectively hide your thunder.
And lastly, yet perhaps most importantly, I learned that drunken jogging was not my best idea.
Okay, so I wasn't totally drunk, just drunk-en: I had had a glass and a half of leftover wine with an early dinner (Hey, it was going to go bad if I let it go one more day). When I set out on my journey, I immediately noticed the lack of control I had over my feet, which is why drunk people tend to fall down and should not be running in the first place. I barely made it around the block before slinking back around the corner, hoping no one had observed my pathetic attempt from the coffee shop's patio across the street. It was reminiscent of that Swingers montage on 30 Rock when Tina Fey's character repeatedly drunk dials a co-op board. From a treadmill. With a goblet of wine. Only I was in public.
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