You've Gotta Be Kidding Me . . .

Okay, so now you all know the story of the driver who decided to entertain me at 7:50 in the morning, shirtless and holding what appeared to be a cigarette between his toes on his left foot while it was propped up outside the driver's side window. Only in South Georgia . . .

I love the versatility of "you've gotta be kidding me." It can be used to convey surprise as in you are in the doctor's office for a routine checkup only to find out that you are pregnant. (I'm not, by the way. Don't want to start any rumors.) Anger as in you have to do something else at work that is totally ridiculous. Amusment as in the above story. Disbelief, as in my personal computer, which is only used to download iTunes, is going to cost $300+ to fix. Stupid Dell.

I have uttered "you've gotta be kidding me" many a time. Usually it comes in conjunction with an overwhelming task. Case in point: my trainer wants me to do some very unrealistic task such as quit drinking sodas or to walk for 20 minutes for five days a week. Now I know that I am paying him to get me in shape, but quit drinking sodas? That is not going to happen. He even challenged me, saying that I couldn't even list one ingredient that was in soda. I quickly quipped, "Caffeine." Busted. He had to give me that.

The 20 minutes of cardio for five days a week is my newest challenge given to me last week. It really shouldn't be a problem since I used to work with a different trainer back in January three times a week for an hour. But when given the choice to come home and get into my bed or go for a walk, I'll take my bed any day. When I left on Friday, I decided that the week should start on Sunday. That makes more sense. So, Sunday came around. No walk. I had heartburn, I rationalized. Monday . . . I finally got my fat ass on the elliptical around 9:00 P.M. (For some reason I keep typing "me" instead of "my."Apparently I'm Irish. Maybe it's because I'm thinking about Lucky Charms, the bane of my existence and another source of contention between me and my trainer.) Last night I procrastinated until a little after 8:00 P.M. and finally took Lorelai out for a walk/run. My mom has been walking Lorelai and her dog Isabella, a chihuahua, because when I was training with Erica, earlier this year, I was too tired, and it was too hot when I got home. But Lorelai, because she normally doesn't get to with my (dang it, I did it again) mom and the chihuahua, decided that it was time to run like the wind. You've got to be kidding me . . .

While walking Lorelai in the grassy ditch between the two entrances, a guy in a hunter green Jeep headed toward Hahira stuck his head out of the driver's side window to check us out. Granted I was in a spaghetti strap tank top and Soffe shorts, and maybe that wasn't the most flattering outfit for me, but it was hot. Besides, I've seen worse. Anyway, it's one thing to take a quick look back and then put your eyes back on the road. But he continued to rubberneck at us down the road. I don't know if it was out of disgust or what but it left me feeling a little disturbed. What a perv.