Runner's Low

It ain't been a great week for this bitch. The leg has been 'proving but what did not help the healin' process was mom's ultimate betrayal: Mom took Donald for a run. I know whatchoo thinkin'.Mom RUN? And not just in the euphemism way like runnin' to da store to buy food, or runnin' out for lunch (extra mayo on the sandwich AND on the side, please), or runnin' up the credit card bill...on food. No I mean run in the actual, literal (real literal) run way. The other night working-out-means-two-dinners-worth-of-dinner-Mom announced to not-working-out-means-two-dinners-worth-of-dinner Dad, I'm gonna jog around da Rose Bowl. Dad was like, Are you taking the boys? Which is code for, You don't need me to walk them, do you? Mom was like, I just walked them like I always do except when you do which is never. But then she was like, You know, I've never tried jogging with Donald. Maybe I'll take him and see how it goes.

I was hearin' this convo and I was not happy for several reasons: One reason that I have a dang LAME LEG and it sucks, two reason that I LOVE the Rose Bowl (not as much as Griffith or Elysian or Ernest Debs or Silver Lake Reservoir but pickins' is slim and a chola girl gotta take what she can get) and third reason that of anyone to get chosen over my ass, it gotta be Dontald? That stunty weinermobile lay down on the ground when we walk more than a mile, or even 'round the block. In fact, it ain't a crazy sight to see Puppy Bear (Psycho killer) Stare laying down to EAT. Who lay down to eat? (Besides the lump. And Mom n Dad if they could figure out how to do it without choking.)

Anyways, Mom came home sweaty like she jogged 30 miles but really it only 3. She had hardly been gone any time at all so I was thinking YUP TOLD YOU IT WOULDN'T WORK JEEZ. But then she was all, Babe meaning Dad (gross!), he did SO GOOD. He kept up AWESOME. I can't believe I never took him jogging before. I --

That's where Stella stopped listening and hobbled my ass to the bedroom, cuz ARE YOU KIDDING? Jogging with Mom or as I call it "Mom jog, Stella walk just a little faster than usual" is like the one thing this bitch got over the low-speed traveling quarter pound Hebrew nationals.

To make it even worse, all night long Mom n Dad was talking about how mute-brute Donald was havin' a runner's high and then Chestwerp was trying to catch a contact runner's high and Stella was lyin' on the bed havin' the ultimate runner's low.

I know it hard to tell cuz he so low to da ground anyways, but this is Dorkald, too lazy to stand up to eat. (You know it bad when Queefster givin' the side eye.)

My brothers.