...and her thighs weren't too far behind

sometimes when i get beyond the realm of the normy boredomness i start to play with my flip-phone like some tarty high school girl at glory days. and here is the result of my post-work, pre-ride-home, sweat ass because it was 90some degrees outside trail of thoughts....

"i beg you... do not let me be that woman at 5 o'clock running about town in pantyhose and Nike's. in fact, don't even let me be the woman in hose unless it's 2 degrees outside and i'm walking a few hundred miles outdoors sans long johns or an ounce of taste. a fucking some-kind-of-bug just bit me on the foot. maybe hose aren't the worst idea ever if they could possibly prevent bug-bites. blog on a bench on a text to absolutely no one. fab. i crave argentinian ice cream from some spot in gtown that i researched while restaurant shopping at work. must go.

i "sauntered" into the bathroom today in honor of the day (national sauntering day, said the man on the radio.. you have to believe it when it's one of those news/traffic/weather channels, they seem to know their shit) and was overwhelmed by vanilla scent. oh memories of middle school when the fad was orange everything and chubby preteen girls reeked of vanilla "body splash" from the mecca of reeking, bath and body works. i take that back, i love bath and body works, but i hate smelling like a pastry.

it's hot as balls outside. i know this because....
A) i am outside
B) i get around a bit (...only joking, but it seemed like the clever thing to say)

if you need a visual, i was sitting at one of those bus-stop booths waiting for my dad to pick me up while typing all this on my cellular.. when out of nowhere this woman in tight green sweatpants starts to jay-walk-panic-run across the street. you know how some people dress like they work out, but really don't lift much more than a fork? exactly. i had no idea just how tight her pants were or how many forks she'd lifted until i looked twice and realized her outer thigh rolls were quaking behind her with every pounding step. blegh, i shudder and shit myself scarred at the memory. i've given up forks starting tomorrow."

auf wiedersehen, goodbye.