All Right, FINE!

Everybody keeps telling me to add more funny stories, so let me think of one. DISCLAIMER!!! If you thought little of me before, please keep reading. These embarrassing (and yet hilarious) stories can't possibly make you think more of me. And yet, I fall on the sword.


Picture it: Vegas, 2009. My sister, her friend Heather, and I decided to start drinking at 10 a.m. by the pool. We started with 48 ounce daiquiris . . . or 24 ounce, but who the hell cares after a couple?? The math works out anyway. So it's hot as hell with the oven on, and Ang and Heather decide to take an icy cold dip in the pool. Heather yells, "Come on Jess! Cannonball!!" I debate for ooh, maybe a tenth of a second, and decide 'why the hell not?' So I stand, adjust my bikini, take a running leap, and

SPLASH!!

I break the surface, my short black hair glistening in the sunlight. I feel glamourous, I feel wonderful, I hear laughter . . . more laughter. And yet, more laughter. And a little hooting. But I'm a little buzzed, and a little slow on the uptake so I look to my loving sister and my trusted friend for the answer.

"You're leftie is hanging out!! Check your top!" It's like slow motion, when you know something is terribly wrong, but you just can't get to it fast enough. One heartbeat - thud - two heartbeats - THUD THUD - yup, that leftie is quite the escape artist, especially post cannonball.



Picture it: YMCA Ballantyne gym, today. I'm warming up on the treadmill while listening to some good, thumping music, mentally prepping for the impending doom of a run. My steps quicken, and the mill treads more quickly as I beat out a cadence of steps and fall into the rhythm and the pace of this run. I'm feeling more confident: my strides are equal and smooth, my form feels good, I'm gaining an understanding of my body as that of a runner. I smile inwardly, and - crack - something else happens outwardly. Thank God nobody else was around. I just hope that everyone else had their earphones in. . . .