One of the things we did on vacation: ride the banana boat! (That's what she said!)
On one of the banana boat rides, Ian was at the front of the boat and jumped in front of it when he got off and promptly disappeared under the boat; which, of course, sent me into immediate panic mode and I jumped off the side quickly, so I could find him, and as I was jumping, he popped up almost directly beneath me and I landed partially on top of him, although he'd say I landed fully on top of him, which is a lie!
Anyroad, that was slightly scary but the scare lasted only a few seconds.
Ian spent most of his time fishing. And he became known as The Fishing Kid because not only was he about the only one catching fish, he was catching the biggies:
In this last pic, you can see that this HAWT chick in a bikini showed up to admire Ian's fishing skills and that girl in the background, who's closer to Ian's own age, is all, Pffff! What chance do I have against that kinda competition? But Ian's all business when it comes to fishing and he didn't notice either of them. The sap. Because I think that white bikini chick has a tat on her right tit. HAWT!1!
This here is two videos I slapped together:
The first part was filmed by me with my nano; then I handed the nano off to Teh 'Bride so she could film that N*ts@ck-Fondling Fucktard in rolled up jeans who tried to help Ian bring the fish in. You can see him for a few seconds. He's holding a net.
What you can't see, because Teh 'Bride stopped filming, is that teh N-FF, at one point, grabbed the fishline to try to pull the fish closer. And he broke the line and the fish got away. And Ian was crying and all inconsolable and all, "You N*ts@ck-fondling Fucktard! I hate you! You're not my daddy!"
Well, he didn't so much say that as imply it with his tears.
So here's this one that has a happier ending:
June numbers: Yeah, I am that far behind.
I ran nearly 30 miles in the first six days of June which caused me to think that the prospect of my having a 100-mile month was looking pretty good. But then of course I started thinking, You know, you haven't done a kankle run in a while and you have a 10k coming up next month and how are you not going to embarrass yourself if you don't work on your speed? Which is what I tell myself kankle runs do — make me speedier.
As I noted in a previous post, I have exactly zero reliable evidence for that; the only thing I know for a fact kankle runs do is give me leprosy of the kankles when the weights rub against my skin and cause me to have open, weeping sores down there2, just like Our Savior (I'm just sayin'), and just as those sores have stopped bleeding and seem to be healing, roughly a week later, it's time for another kankle run, which opens them right back up.
Another gift from Teh Kankle Run (which is the gift that just keeps giving): It causes your weekly mileage totals to plummet. Because in this heat, I truly cannot get myself to run more than say 2.5 miles with kankle weights on. And it takes me like a half hour to do that.
Anyroad, it looked for awhile there that the kankle runs were gonna cost me my 100-mile month. But I managed to get an 8-miler in on the treadmill at Rocking Horse3, and in the end?
Run miles: 100.43
No bike miles because Morrissey is still broken. And the walking miles are way low because I've been having PT on my shoulder twice a week in the afternoons (and will be having it again this month) and missed my lunch walks on those days. But since I'm at the PT place working out for an hour, I'm getting at least as much exercise on those afternoons; probably more. But they cost me at least 20 miles of walking.
I really have to get Morrissey welded, though.
1 No reason on earth it can't be both, ladies!
2 By which I mean on my kankles, not, y'know ... down there2a.
2a By which I mean my n*ts@ck.
3 I had my nano so I even videoed myself during the cool down to show you all my numbers and make fun of all you pussies out there who are forever bellyaching about how boo-hoo-hoo-hard it is to run in a climate-controlled room on a treadmill where you can watch TV or check out the shapely @$$es of the other people in the gym to distract you (Hahahaha! Fuck you, chicks who may've been behind me! Boy, did you get hosed, having to stare at my famously flat Irish @$$! Better luck next time!), etc. Yeah, that's tough all right. But when I got home and watched the video, which was all foggy-looking anyway, I realized how annoying my Pennzer-accented voice is and I wondered how people could resist punching me in the face as soon as I open my mouth because I know I sure wanted to punch me, and so I deleted the video and thus spared you.