Running in the City

Speaking of running in LA, I’m pretty sure this is the only city in which your average run could include:

*A black transvestite in a dress and fake breasts jeering “I could beat you in a race, backwards.”

*Being forced to scream at a woman’s incessant honking “He’s in a fucking turn lane, shut the fuck up”

and having her turn around and give you the finger.

*Stopping in a park to do situps to find every available grassy area occupied by homeless people or regular people having sex.

*Stopping in a different park and noticing that “futbol” is prohibited.

*Getting one of your tear ducts so clogged with sweat, smog and grit that it swells up to the point of you being told “You look like a retard. No, you literally have the features of mongoloid.” (You can guess who said that.)

*Having small children race you down the street as their parents pay no attention to the fact that their offspring running off with a shirtless teenager.

*Having a random Mexican scream from a moving car to “put a shirt on.”

*Having that instant pang of shame immediately counteracted by Mexican women cat calling from the next vehicle.

More to come, this is only from the last week.

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