Real Men/Women of Genius #65

Ingelhook Wineries present…

REAL WOMEN OF GENIUS

{Re-al gals of geeeeeene-yuss}

Today we raise our glass to you, Missus OCD Ultrarunning Gal with the Multiple Unpronounceable Disorders.

{Misss-sus perrrr-son-alllll-i-tyyyy out-the-ying-yannng!}

You mean, it’s 7:01 AM and you’ve not showered yet? This, after running your daily nine-point-three-eighth miles, which is six loops around the lake by the country club with those thirty-eight-hundredths being the *exact* distance from your side door to the trailhead? You’re running late today!

{“Ohhhhhh Emmmmmmmmm Geeeeeeeeeeeee!!”}

You have a child that needs to get up, get dressed, get fed, have homework checked, bed made, toys filed, room cleaned, questions answered–only if there’s time–lunch made, shoes-boots-and-raincoat on, planted in the carseat, and driven to grammar school before the first bell at 7:45.

{“Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere ARE those Fruit Loooooops?”}

The husband can fend for himself.

{“Geeeze-ziss, bay-bee! Shooould I book an ap-poinnnt-ment?”}

If you hurry, when you get back from the drop-off and kiss-off, you’ll have time to update your Facebook, post more photos, and still meet George at the gym and then have time for a swim. But that can only happen after today’s required crunches and side planks, handling your online banking, returning all calls on your iPhone, and stopping by Le Petit Boutique to try on shoes–all before you even get to the gym.

{“Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy won’t-this-traf-fic-light-change??”}

It’s now only ten-thirty and you’ve already done more since 3 AM than most humans could do in a week. And yet, amazingly enough, you still have time to piss-off all those humans before you have to meet Sally and Joanie–just confirmed by phoney–for your “grrl power lunchie” at the club.

{“Wee neeeeeeeeeeeed that taaaa-ble-by-the-bar!!!”}

So ease the cork out gently when your waiter brings that second bottle of White Zinfandel to your table, O Super-, Cat-, and Wonder Woman all rolled into one, because, really, you know ya only go around once in life and so gotta grab for all the Gusto–and what’s in Gusto’s trousers–that you possibly, possibly can… all before Cosmo Husbo comes home.

{Miss-sus O-C-D Ullllll-tra-run-nnnnning Gal with-the-Mul-ti-ple-Un-pro-nounce-a-ble Dys-orrrr-derssssss!}

White Zinfandel yuppie wine: we don’t drink it ourselves; we’d rather just guzzle beer.

( O_O )

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Yankee Folly of the Day:
There are eight million stories in The Naked City, while in The Hamptons, however, they first need to shop for shoes.