Have you ever wanted to trip a runner?
I have. I do every time I see one. They think they're so awesome in their tight little pants.
Sometimes I go to races just to fantasize about tripping them all on their way to their post-race brunches.
On Saturdays, we go to the downtown YMCA for my daughter's basketball games. This week a whole group of runners was chatting by the door after their run.
They all had tight little pants.
I was quietly working hard at suppressing my urge to trip them all when one announced, "Come on, you guys. Bacon's waiting."
Where are my machete arms?
After we entered the Y, I turned to my husband and said, "Did you hear that? He said bacon! I hate them!"
"You don't really hate them," he replied. "You just want to be them."
I think he's wrong. I think he just underestimates my love of bacon.
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