The Day I Lived a Cliche

"Think outside the box"

"The straw that broke the camel's back"

Ah, cliches. You can hardly make it through a day without hearing a few.

But today I didn't hear any which is highly unusual. I guess that's because I was supposed to actually experience one instead.

I took my dog Molly out for a long walk afternoon. It was supposed to be a regular walk, nothing big, but then I just started GETTING INTO IT. The sweat was coming out, the iPod was pumping, and the crazy soon followed. By GETTING INTO IT I mean that since hadn't gone to gym for my daily dose of jackassery, I decided that a walk was just not enough.

I would make my own mini-triathlon.

With a dog.

This event would consist of me doing push ups and sit ups at different points of my journey. I should mention that my route is on a major road in Florida with tons of traffic and that passes by multiple neighborhoods and marinas.

I decided that I wouldn't do the push ups/sit ups on the sidewalk for several reasons.

1. It may look like I was humping the pavement

2. Broken beer bottles, crack pipes, etc

3. Just looks ridiculous

I would do the strength training on certain grass areas on the walk that at least had some amount of privacy. Success! After the second round of push ups/sit ups I was on the way back home, Molly looked happy and there was just one last set.

This area was a lot more public but I was almost done and the adrenaline was flowing so self awareness was completely gone. I got face down in the grass with my dog's leash firmly gripped in my left hand and began to do 40 push ups. Around number 15 I noticed what looked like a large amount of snakeskin that I didn't see when I crouched down. I recently moved to Florida and I keep a pretty good look out for devil worms since I am deathly afraid of all shapes and sizes.

And then I felt it.

The biting.

The burning.

On my feet.

I screamed, leaped into the air and looked down and was pleasantly surprised not to see a python.

But there was something else.

Ants. Hundreds of them. They had formed a chorus line, kicking and biting up my ankles and all over my sandal exposed feet. I was holding my dog's leash in one hand and killing families of the little bastards with the other. I didn't know what kind of ants I was fighting but I did know that they were:

A. Red

B. Had teeth made of fire

C. Pure Evil

I thought I had won but then saw that there were EVEN MORE crawling on my shirt, arms, and I hadn't noticed the others that had made it up the back of my leg and were making their way INTO MY SHORTS.

That's right. I literally had ANTS IN MY PANTS. I was living a cliche.

So there I was, screaming "Are you F--ing kidding me????" as I yelled, twisted, and squirmed while hundreds of cars were passing me by. I was punching myself in the groin, hitting myself across the chest with my visor, and cursing like I had Tourette's. I looked like a blend of Ace Ventura, Mr. Bean, and a demon possessed homeless person. My attempt to be healthy had been rewarded with a slap in the face from Mother Nature.

I need a shower. My balls burn.