I love to go running. In Houston, it is a rare moment when the weather is a comfortable temperature, there is no humidity, and the air has the slightest breeze, which doesn't carry any particular odor. My iPod and I can enjoy the semi-fresh air. However, going to the local park is a very interesting experience. Memorial Park in Houston is a poor man's Central Park. It is a 3-mile circle around a golf course. However, on Monday evenings, it becomes a local hotspot, like Butter or Bungalow 8 in New York. Everyone dons their designer running attire. Women literally wear full make-up, fix their hair, and don't run at a sweat-inducing speed. The stunningly hot men are all out in full-force: shirtless and sweaty. Actually, the sweat stains on people's shirts make good Rorschach Personality Test ink blots. As for those gorgeous, shirtless men, they would definitely not be interested in someone like me. I try to touch, but, I can't get close enough for a quick ass-grab. However, the chicks are terribly annoying, like mosquitoes that you smash and then more buzz around. The blond highlights, fake implants, and fake tans are rampant, looking to be someone's trophy. Sadly, they are in better shape than those of us who put effort into running.
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