Last weekend, I found myself once again-attempting refusal to surrendering to another illness. Without properly functioning taste buds, much of a voice, or any stability in my body temperatures, I wasn't the most enthusiastic person to be around. Although, I can rightfully say that I consistently tried to remain upbeat.
Spending the 4th of July weekend with a 102 temperature isn't the "Hot" weekend us Yankees usually set out for. Spending the weekend hot and sweaty is expected, but most also are in a bikini under the bright and shiny sun, with an ice cold beverage in hand. Not so much in bed, in front of a bright computer screen, sipping Theraflu, with antibiotics by your side.
I wasn't going to neglect my spirits, and Andrew wasn't going to either. So I jumped into a pair of navy blue short shorts with white polka dots, a red top, and my dirty, white, high-top Chuck Taylors- and set out for a Patriotic coastal bike ride.
Our trip started off here in Santa Monica. We rode down to the Pier and along the beach into Venice. Breaking a sweat on top of a fever made me feel extremely cutting edge. Hard core. Bad ass. Deep down realizing it's stupid things like this, that prevent my full recovery from being sick.
Inevitably, we stopped off and enjoyed some lunch while indulging my favorite hobby- people watching. We parked our bikes a few times throughout our journey and strolled along the boardwalk. It was nice to get out into the real world, with real people, being that I'd been tucked away in our little apartment for a few days. Sooner than I'd hoped- I wasn't feeling as much of a savage as I did earlier in the day, and needed to get back home to resume my horizontal lifestyle. I dreaded the bike ride back. But like the true athlete that I am, we did it.
We spent the evening glued to the television watching movies, every once and a while peeking out the window to check out the fire works. ( Fire Works- that's another story, am I the only person that doesn't like them? I think they're depressing and could care less if I never saw a flame in the sky again. Andrew kind of frowns upon my negativity towards them. I understand, I feel the same way about people who don't like chocolate, I don't understand and question if those people have a whole soul.) I've now seen Borat, and can officially state that - in my opinion- it's been completely overrated. I can admit, I found myself laughing through several parts of it, while other moments had me disappointed that so many people I know and love; praise this film, occasionally quoting Borat and his so- very-obvious psuedo accent. I did find it very interesting that if you filter through some of the obscenities, you'll find a candid and underlining example of how idiotic Americans are.
Happy Birthday Uncle Sam.
Viva America.
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