So this morning, Christopher and I were on our way to San Pedro to participate in a 5K run along the scenic Pacific Ocean. I’d never done this particular 5K before, but I had a course map and driving directions, so I figured we were in good shape and off we went. When we got to Point Fermin in San Pedro, everything was well marked and there was a huge sign that said “Runner Parking” and an arrow pointing up a hill into what appeared to be a narrow road leading to a parking lot. Lots of people had already parked on the surrounding streets and several runners were warming up by going up and down the hill leading to the parking lot entrance.
Here’s a picture of Point Fermin, so you can get a sense of how close it is to the ocean, and the type of hill it has:
Christopher: Think we should park on the street? Maybe that lot’s full.
Christine: Usually they have someone out here telling you if it’s full. I think we should just follow the signs to where they want us to park.
So as the third car in line to turn, we turn onto the road that leads up the hill. When we get to the top of the hill, we realize that the first lot with access from the road we were on was indeed full and people had parked on both sides of the road narrowing it to a single lane.
As cars in front of us were figuring this out, they continued down the hill, so we followed suit. Then all of the sudden, we stop. The cars in front of us stop completely. We sit there for about three minutes, not moving, when Christopher, in a sudden burst of impatience, says, “Fucking great! Now we gotta park in the ghetto!”
I look around at the green grass of the park and wonder where the ghetto is that I’m missing.
Christine: It’ll be fine. Just relax. Once we get past this, I’m sure there are places to park at the bottom of the hill.
No more than I get those words out and traffic starts to move again. We pass a second lot. Full. We snake all the way to the bottom of this huge hill and sure enough there’s a third parking lot. A blue truck, two cars ahead of us, stops in the middle of the road, the driver gets out, and he runs over to where some of the parking spaces in this lot have been coned off. The guy moves the cone, gets back in his car, and pulls into the space.
The white Camry in front of us does the same. Driver out. Cone moved. Camry pulls in.
There are about six other coned off spaces in this lot.
Christopher: Think I should do that?
Christine: They’re probably coned off for a reason.
Christopher: Fuck it. No they’re not.
Christopher gets out of the car and runs over to move a cone when… a fragile-looking little guy with long stringy hair gets out of his car and yells something I can’t hear to Christopher. Chris turns around, annoyed, and comes back to the car. He gets in and slams the door.
Christine: What’d that guy say?
Christopher: He says they’re reserved for ‘animal care.’ What the fuck is animal care?
I point to the building right in front of the spaces with a sign that says ‘Marine Mammal Care Center.’
Here’s a picture of the building:
Christopher looks up at the building.
Christopher: Marine Animal Care???!!! What animals? Seals?! They’re reserved for seals?!
Christine: For people who save the seals…
Christopher: Then I better see some dead fucking seals on this run today…
Pissed off, he says this as he backs out and continues to drive down the long winding road.
Christine: I hope not… because then those people aren’t doing a very good job.
Christopher: I don’t even believe that asshole has any seals in there…
I turn away and look out the window because I’m about to laugh. He grumbles a little bit more before we reach the end of the line of cars parked on the shoulder of the road where he can flip around and pull up behind the other cars.
We park and get out. We start to walk up the hill on our way back to Point Fermin.
Christopher: We’re gonna do a 5 K just getting to the 5K.
Christine: (knowing he’s still pissed off about being pre-empted for a seal saver) I think you’ll be okay.
He shrugs and fell into step beside me on the walk.
Christopher: Yeah, I guess.
He smiles. I smile. It’s all good.
Christopher did awesome on the run and beat my slow ass by 3 1/2 minutes. I was pissed at myself for not keeping up with his pace, considering what happened the last time Christopher tried to do a 5K with me. But he was waiting for me at the finish line clapping and yelling “You rock, baby!” And when I finally got through the line of people tearing off their bib tags, he was right there and gave me a hug. So it was a pretty great morning. 
And what made it even better… we didn’t see any dead seals.
Ok.. so sometimes our exchanges can be downright hilarious.
Go Marines!!! Semper Fi… oh, that’s not what the story was about — our Marines kicking ass and taking names?? Seriously, I thought Seals was referring to the US Navy Special Ops force… damn, only in Kalifornia
Har PJ i actually thought that the 2 Chrises were hippies or something because of the title :s :p
Hippies… hehe. We should be that for Halloween. LOL!
A seal walks into a bar and gets a Canadian club on ice…
*rimshot* (followed by groans)
Why am I an addict?
Out of curiousity….
It is a work in progress, Mara… your “title” is linked to how many times you’ve commented. Christopher will be done fixing this feature (which I think will be amazingly cool once it all works properly), and then he’ll do a post to explain it. The titles right now are just placeholders. Give him a few days and it will all make sense. We know you’re not an addict…
At least not any more than Trouble is a real pirate. 
Well I do really like shoes…
Glad to have you back Mara, Christine thought you deserted us because our blog was to depressing now.
I thought maybe you’d gotten so depressed, you were scared to come back, holed up in some little apartment drinking vodka from the bottle and eating Soft Batch cookies…
But see. You were just out shopping for shoes.
Glad to have you back too.
I just added a pair of red peep toe heels to my collection too
)
Now about those cookies…
What’s wrong with being holed-up in a little apartment drinking vodka from the bottle… ‘s how I spend most weekdays… No cookies though [...Atkins...]
Argggggggh!
Atkins.. people are still doing that diet… u know that dude died a fat and rich right..
Fuck, dude, if his diet would make me rich, I’d be back on it in a flash! (b)
I thought for sure that Trouble would have tried to harassed, begged or manipulate Mara into showing a picture of herself in the new shoes… and nothing else (p)
As much as I like to peep me some toe… :p
LOL!
By the way, Trouble… I was laughing my ass off last night when I went to your blog and saw what a big difference you’re making in “fighting vaginal dryness” one woman at a time (although sometimes more than one I’m sure). It’s nice to see a guy take up a cause that really only affects women. (y)
’tis the very least I can do… And yes, sometimes more than one… But not this year unfortunately… ;(
Don’t worry, Trouble. Think of all of the women you’ve “helped” overcome this condition
I often find that while there are many options on the market to treat this condition, very few of them have long-lasting effects, making the brand names only marginally better than the generic ones.
Mara, I am thinking of one I haven’t…
Off topic… Chris, is there some superduper-technical reason I can’t split my extra long-winded comments up into paragraphs anymore? It irritates me… And the last thing one wants is to irritate a pirate… Arrrrggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh!
Wow, are you dissing Trouble (and/or ‘topher)?? Because it sounds like you’re saying one dick is as good as the next… (u)
Oops, Trouble slipped in there before me
Yeah, why can’t we force a paragraph anymore?? It’s irritating the Kingpin also :s
I am patent-pending under the name Slickersnatch (R)… Currently no generic brand is available, and although my effects are very long-lasting, they are alas still only temporary…
That’s only good for business! If it was permanent with only 1 application, then you’d drastically reduce your market share.
OK, if you’re brand is going to be known as Trouble’s Slickersnatch (R), can I trademark “ProphetJoe — Oral/Vaginal/Anal Expander and Protein supplement”?? Hmm, what do Mara and ‘tine think?
(Sorry, guys, but I know your comments will driven by immense jealousy, so I want only a woman’s perspective)
Trouble got my joke… and no, I would never suggest that one dick is as good as any other. That would just be wrong.
In my case, I’m lucky. Christopher is very aware of the condition of my skin and often takes it upon himself to relegate dry patches everywhere — whether he’s needed to cure vaginal dryness, dry skin on my face, dehydration of my chest, stomach, back, and even my tushy. Hell, the boy can even guess when I’m thirsty. He’s very attentive to my needs in that way.
PJ… it amazes how I can be reading along a thread of comments, giggling at all the sexual innuendos and double entendres and then I come to yours and I stop and go, “Ew.” You just have this unique ability to pretty much take anything to the next level. LOL.
It’s a (g)
Um….no, PJ.
Mara: “no, it’s not a gift”, “no, you won’t comment”, or “no, I can’t use that name”?
Damn, I knew it… someone already trademarked that name, right?
Trouble.. I’ve been pondering the paragraph problem myself. You could try using html br tag… I’m going to experiment with this tonight and see whats up.. god knows what I broke.. altho I did upgrade to wp 2.2 last week.
Let’s see… The quick mixed-race fox jumped over the ambitiously challenged dog Never bring a crayon to a pencil fight…
Yeah… That didn’t work… But maybe I’m HTML’ly challenged… Maybe this time?
Damn… Broke your blog… Sorry…
Heh… ya… thanks trouble..
Mawwwwwwwwm… Trouble did it!
What’s a mixed-race fox?
Brown Christine… Shall I ‘splain the “ambitiously challenged dog” too Lucy…
I see. So now those crazy jumping foxes are mixing races. It used to be just breeds. Nothing’s ever good enough when it comes to those foxes…