Sooooo. I went running a little while back. And you know how it goes, run like balls until you want to vomit, walk and curse, and then find some nice yard to lay down in till you forget you want to die.

Apparently, this last round out, I laid down in poison ivy or oak. I'm a city girl, so which ever the fuck it was, I didn't recognize it and now it is all over my little heiney and thighs since I wore the crappy biker shorts. Nature hates me and doesn't want to be happy.

Yeah. Exercise is good for you. I want to die.

I smeared the ointment on it but it itches. It itches bad. It itches bad and when I do itch, its an obscenely not funny scene. One thing I've learned. If you successfully itched your nasty poison ivy rash, the feeling you get beats the hell out of sex... or what I remember sex to be like, since it was 1692 the last time I got laid.

UPDATE: The nasty ointment actually worked. No itching and it seemed to dry up some of the ickypoo.