I'm going to head up this task force, bishes

I was driving behind a man this morning who felt that it was appropriate to throw his empty Starbucks cup out of the window, onto the roadside. Now, my opinion about Starbucks aside (HATE IT. Venti? Come ON...it's LARGE), I live in the Bay Area where being environmentally conscious is almost a religion. I’m surprised there isn’t some sort of task force that finds littering nincompoops - such as this gentleman - straps them into a chair, tapes their eyes open and forces them to watch An Inconvenient Truth until they scream for mercy or their eyes bleed or they promise to start recycling..or possibly all three. Then we’d shove them onto an ice floe with a polar bear and place bets on who would come out alive. My money would be on the bear considering the claws and teeth and sheer desperation over his habitat being melted away by the relentless sun (plus the lack of Starbucks and Gossip Girl...and polar bears are cute)…or we could just put them into a compost bin and spin them round and round with the brown matter until they promised to mend their ways.

Sorry, tangent.

How is everyone? Good? Today, I've been in love with my little life. It was the kind of day that was cool enough to walk Kylie up in the mountains midafternoon without the threat of heatstroke setting in...though I did sweat through my top which led to a rather uncomfortable moment at my local coffee shop. The guy behind me in line goes "Jesus, how did you get so sweaty?" I turned to look at him, first in disbelief that he would ask a stranger such a personal question and then secondly because he looked as though he hadn't had a brush with a piece of workout equipment in about 10 years. So before you criticize my healthy glow, maybe think about taking your treadmill out for a date...get reacquainted, like. I just made a "Psh" face at him and turned back around. Then he went "No, really, how did you? It's totally hot."

Seriously? WHY do men always pick up on me when I'm gross, sweaty and in need of a shower? I don't get it. If I'd been really brave, I would have wrapped my leg around him and said, in a breathy voice "You want to see HOT? Meet me in the bathroom in 2 minutes." But I really just wanted my iced latte. LARGE. NOT VENTI.

See how I linked those two stories, there? That's called aptitude, people. It's going to be a good week.