So, it’s Sunday and I’m just about to start my workout and I get an invitation from my friend, Tanya, to go to Saint Andrews with our mutual friend, Noah. And I think, go for run in the woods…go for trip to Saint Andrews by the Sea.
We started off in my car and Tanya said, “Biff, I think it’s very male chauvinist pig of you to do the driving when I can probably drive better than you.”
Noah said, “Biff, you’re such a male chauvinist pig. I don’t like you anymore.”
So, we drove 30 kilometers back to Tanya’s place so that she could drive and I could stop being a male chauvinist pig.
The only problem here was that when Tanya is behind the wheel of her car…she thinks she’s a pilot. In a fighter jet. And she starts shooting things. Things that have surface to air missiles. That she has to avoid. By flying faster than them.
So we arrived in Saint Andrews 20 minutes later with Noah and I having pants full of shit. We had to find a restaurant with a shower.
We found one.
On the way to that restaurant, and to Saint Andrews, we came across a blueberry field. And the rule was that I could only take one picture along the way. One picture. Thanks Tan. But then…thanks Tan…when we reached the field she said, “Stop sniveling and crying, Biff. I’m going to let you take some pictures here.”
That blueberry field was like a slice of hot blueberry pie with walnut ice cream melting over it.
And now the three of us are in a pissing match to see who can post the best pictures today on Facebook. It’s like two cell phones up against my Canon 5D2.