Real Men/Women of Genius #79

[Today we are indebted to our friend Toni Aurilio for suggesting the subject matter. Personally I (and perhaps many of you) have witnessed this very thing in the past along various wooded trails–and in big city alleyways during marathons–but never gave it much thought because men do it all the time!]

Ingelhook Wineries present…

REAL WOMEN OF GENIUS

{Re-al gals of geeeeeene-yuss}

Today we propose a toast to you, Miss Let-It-All-Hang-Outer and Generally-Standing-Pee-er Just One Foot Away from Every Other Runner on the Path.

{Missssssssssss piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ssssssssssssss?}

You get a kick out of it, don’t you? Stepping quickly off to the side, but without actually stepping more than 18 inches off to the side, turning your sweet cheeks towards the line behind you, and just shoving your shorts’ crotch cloth aside and lettin’ it *fly*–whether those shorts even have one or not.

{“I hooooooooooope my week-lyyy tan-ning-bed sesssss-sions have e-rased all the tan lines!”}

Skirts are easier, we know. Also those semi-fashionable new threads called “skorts.” Compression bike attire could delay you a tad, but you’re not worried about that. Your whole purpose here with such minimal–but necessary–time wasting is to give us a show.

{“I’ve au-diiiiiiiiiiiii-tioned in Ve-gas for-rah-chor-us-girrrrrrrrrl-part!”}

But we’re curious. If there’s snow on the ground, do you try to write your name? If there’s some puddle, do you wish to change its color? If you happen to know there’s more males following you than females, do you think they really would like it better if you’re standing or squatting? And what, really, IS your very best angle for achieving your very best trajectory?

{“Butt I waaaaaaaas-n’t read-yyyyyyy for au-diiiiiiiiiii-tion-ing with Wic-ked Pic-tures!!”}

AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LEFT HAND?

{Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee shuddddddd-ddddddder to e-ven guess!}

So pull your hand–oops, we mean cork–quickly out from your White–or possibly amber–Zinfandel currently stashed inside your backpack at the finish line when you get there, O Grown-up Honeychild Who First Learned about Peeing in the Pool, and be sure to offer swigs to the four-hundred-and-at-least-fifty young men now–STILL–lined up behind you. But may we suggest offering them the bottle…by using only your cold right hand?

{Missssssss Let-It-Allllllll-Hang-Out-er and Gen-er-al-ly-Stand-ing-Pee-er Jussss’ One-Foot-A-way-from Ev-‘ryyyyy Oth-errr Run-nerrr on-the-Path!}

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

( O_O )

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Yankee Folly of the Day:
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