Speaking of eff, I have been running on the treadmill a bit lately. I actually like running on a treadmill because it gives me a little more control of the suckitude.
No, that’s not right. It actually takes away the suckitude control from me and gives it to the machine. And that is what I like.
See, on the treadmill I can pick my level of suckitude and it holds me to it. The dirty bitch. So yeah, there I am running along thinking it sucks. Over time it feels like it sucks more. After a while it feels like I must be at level suckitude +1, or maybe even suckitude+2 – but really I am still just running at the original level of suckitude. If I were running outside or riding my bike I might accidentally slow down to maintain the original level of perceived suckitude, thereby robbing myself of the level of actual suckitude that I want to maintain. On the treadmill though, I am forced to maintain the same level of suckitude. Get it?
Yeah, I know, it’s effed up. I guess what I mean is that if I slow down on the treadmill I will crash. Crashing on a treadmill would suck. Especially in public.
At least my son didn’t get assigned the letter s. That would have sucked. Literally. At least once. I would have sucked. Which I guess in first grade is probably better than the f word alternative. Oh man, I need some help.
The bike riding equivalent of the treadmill would be like if your wheels popped off if you dropped below a certain speed. Talk about suckitude.
I think it will be ok. My sons eff paragraph I mean. He does have a way with words. He made this for a girl at Valentines Day...
Yes, he does have a bit of swagger for a 6 year old.
Usually when I say 'I don't know where he gets it' I'm lying. I have an idea where he might have gotten it, but this time, this time honestly - I don't know where he gets it.
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