Bottom line: We love a dominator
On Sunday morning, I competed in a triathlon. The start times were staggered, and given my placement in the novice division, I had a couple of hours to kill before I broke out the tight pants and hit the pool.
Sometime during the lull, I figured it pertinent to stretch and performed a unique rendition of redneck yoga off in the corner by myself, during which several fellow novices approached to ask why -- and how in the name of fluorescent pig parts -- I wasn't at "The Paper Clip." ...
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