Real Women of Genius #1 (or is this #8?)

 

[Why should men be the only “geniuses”?]

Ingelhook Wineries present…

REAL WOMEN OF GENIUS

{Real gals of geeeeeene-yuss}

Today we raise our goblets to you, Mrs. “Run to Daddy, Children, He’s Doing the Trail Ultra” Lady.

{Drop ’em off and let ’em run to poppaaaaaaaaaaaa!}

Sure, you think it’ll be a nice surprise. You and the old man haven’t spoken for days, and yet you’re sure he’d love to see his little daughters chugging up the last three miles of trail as he comes dragging his ass in, just ahead of cutoff, trying to finish a 50-mile race which happens to be held in the biggest forest in the State of Wisconsin.

{Whoa! Won’t daddy be surrrr-prised!!}

All you have to do is drop them off at the last aid station and point them backwards along the trail. Never mind that it’s late, getting dark, your kids have never been here before, most of the runners AREN’T still running, and if there are still bears in Wisconsin, your little pink-jumpered second-grader twins will make a very tasty midnight snack.

{Surely sommmmebody will watch them!}

Should we call out the National Guard now, or wait till the Head Madam arrives from the women’s prison and finds a much better foster home for YOU, so that your children might yet be protected against lunacy?

{Let’s just wait for the sherifffffffffff!}

So pull out the cork from a slightly chilled bottle of White Zinfandel, O Tess of the d’Urbervilles, and properly fill the 6-ounce glass while we toast to your novelty and childrearing acumen. Never mind that it’s now 8 o’clock at night, your children are hopelessly lost, only two runners have even seen your kids and they thought they were hallucinating, and last but not least: your old man isn’t even out there! No, he DNF’d early and caught a ride back to the motel while you and the kids were sight-seeing.

{OH NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!}

Thanks to your quirky inventiveness, O Mother Teresa, your little goldilocks are quickly becoming bear bait and their daddy is fast asleep on the queen-size bed.

{Missus “Run to Daddy, Children, He’s Do-ing the Trail Ul-tra” Laaaaa-dy!}

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

( O_O )

Good luck to all the KM100 runners this weekend.

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Yankee Folly of the Day:
No kidding, the above incident really did happen at the Ice Age 50 a couple years ago. What, you think I could make this stuff up?