The Goose Poop 5K

So…being the person I am, I figured that I would lay on my bed and blog while I wait for my phone to charge so that I have music to listen to (or someone to talk to) while taking my evening walk.  However, I realized as I began to type that I have choices of things to blog about!  What choices, you ask?  Well…three main topics: 1) Random words creating thoughts, 2) The corpse flower, and 3) Why so many people love glitter.  However, after putting a lot of time and effort into it (approximately 3% of an iPhone charge) I have decided to talk about…duck poop…more specifically goose poop.  Well…bet you didn’t notice that I went away for another 10% did you?  I did, and with further review the discussion about goose pooh has been dealt a veto.  When Googling goose poop, there are very few references…in fact only one that stood out, which is the Goose Poop 5K in Terre Haute, IN.  Now THAT is one race I will pass on.  Can you imagine what your shoes would smell like afterwards?!

In any case, the second place train of thought is the corpse flower (do you see a pattern here?  Hint: sense of smell).  I was interested to see that they have a corpse flower blooming in Belgium today (its bloom dies tomorrow).  Ironically, its bloom stinks like a rotting corpse and is drawing hundreds of visitors over its three day blooming cycle.  Now, funny thing is that two years ago there was a corpse flower that bloomed in Springfield, MO.  It made the local news…but not the International AP.  Seriously!!  One has to assume that those of us in Missouri are just a little less interested in taking our time to go visit a plant that smells like something that crawled up and died under a house…we can walk down the street to smell that. 

Which doesn’t remind me of a story I once heard (or made up) about this woman who was walking on the beach in sunny California… but I will share it anyway. She was a modestly built lady, probably 135 lbs and 5’10.  Her sandy colored hair was tangled across her face as she paced her way toward the water.  As she continued on her trek she ran smack dab into a tall, dark, and handsome man…yet bald.  She looked in his face and saw the most piercing blue eyes and gasped for a breath of air.  He reached his soft hand toward her face to touch it ever so slightly and then yanked her tangled locks.  “Excuse me miss.” He said, “My hairpiece flew off and was stuck in your hair.”  With a look of disdain and disgust she held high what dignity she had left, pointed her finger to the sky, and with the most distinguished accent she could muster proclaimed, “Hair today, gone tomorrow.” 

Yep.  This is what happens when one is slightly bored and unable to walk without something in their ears.  It is a painful existence…however, I have taken up the baton and will carry it high with pride and dignity.  Maybe I will do it at the Goose Poop 5k in Terre Haute…unless it is on a beach, at which point I need to make sure it is not a flaming baton…those can catch hair on fire.  And…wait for it…by the time you have finished this random blog, the corpse flower will have stopped blooming, as it is now Wednesday in Belgium.  Ironically, the dead corpse flower does not smell like something dead.  So, in closing, and with props to Mr. Ed...a corpse smells of a corpse unless of course, the corpse flower is dead.  What does it smell like then?  Yep, you guessed it:  Goose poop.

Peace.