Jog, Interrupted (or Why I Did 100 Sit-Ups)
14.Jul.2005, 04:18 amFinally out the house, done with work, I was revving up for a late night jog when I heard the flutter of ghetto birds — that’s police helicopters for those not uber urban like me — and the singing of police sirens. Still, I continued my stroll –
Nothing would come between me and burning off my 400 calories of raspberry scone.
I power-walked on, watching for shifting shadows, seeing the tenseness of some neighbor’s pink flamingos. Aware of plastic lawn pets’ sixth sense, I picked up my pace, ready to finish my excercise early, but still determined to nurse my vanity-health.
Chopchopchopchopchop. Siiiiireeeeen. TIRE SQUEAL. Beams in the distance.
I turned around, heading home, though I still didn’t understand — tucked away in the ‘burbs, I reside in blocks of B-list celebrities, of people who are the stars of made-for-TV movies and courthouse shows, those far from inspiring even the slightest criminal storyline.
It was only in my room, on sit-up #57, that it hit me what all the cop fuss was about.
They must have finally deployed the fashion police to arrest half of the city.
