A long, long time ago (disclaimer: exceedingly long, mundane, dull, boring, uneventful, vapid, repetetive)

I can still remember, how his posts sometimes made me smile.

I'd be curious to see what people associate with "a long, long time ago"
I think most people would do either
A) Star Wars
B) American Pie by Don McLean
C) Neither, these people are lame.

So, my rationale for not doing a blog this past semester (but really just excuses): I got a job and started working ten hours a week. less free time. also, I believe I spent more time hanging out/socializing with friends. But you don't care about my life. You just care about my blog. so here goes. *pulls out notes* You see, these are hardly even notes. I stopped taking notes once I decided I was kidding myself to think I'd do a blog post. So gist, not accuracy/entertainment is guaranteed.


Anyways, here are some quotes from songs or tv shows expressing my apologies.

• "That was wrong of me and I'll be the first one to admit it!" (tv show, canceled)
  
• "I've made a huge mistake." (different tv show, canceled)
  
• "After all that we've been through, I will make it up to you. I promise to." (song)
  
• "Oh my friends, my friends forgive me." (musical)
• "And just to clear the air, I ask forgiveness, for the things I've done you blame me for. (different musical)

Table of Contents
-quotes
-bike stories
-randecdotes (portmanteau of anecdote and random)
-hercules/God parallel in song
-girltalk
-shaving legs

It was a Wednesday, our weary traveler sauntered over to his loyal steed, his Schwinn bicycle. She had never failed him. Prepositions described so many of their adventures over the past semester and a half: through streets and sidewalks, down stairs, up hills, into tree branches and people (unintentionally), after pigeons (intentionally). Even Jerbear had ridden on her handbars. Heart attack never stopped old Jerbear. However, as our traveler knelt down to loose his lady from her shackles, he felt the winds change, but did not think a thing of it. But these new winds, dear readers, would change his relationship with his bicycle forever.

Click. Crash. The bike swooned and fell forcefully onto its side the second it was freed from its chains. Our weary traveler of course apologized to her and inspected for any signs of injury. After his cursory search yielded no findings, he went on his way.

But her hurts were not the observable kind, but subdermal, for it was her heart that had taken the blow. This was the straw that broke the camel's back, the coup de grâce. But she would not show her weakness now and spill her feelings to her compassionate, yet aloof rider; she would harbor them in her heart until she boiled over with rage and screw her rider over when he was at his weakest so she could have the bargaining chip, and so she could hurt his pride. because she's a moody hormonal girl like that. End scene

Scene II: Ben (Benjo), Mclean (mcflurry), Dylan (deadfish) walking back from rec center in conversation. Our weary traveler on the bicycle, now visibly foaming with fury. Many passerbys

Why are there scene descriptions if this is prose, not a play, mind you? Don't concern yourself with such subtleties nuances. Let the bard do his bidding. What? Bards compose poetry? Hogwash. I'll show you a bard...Oh. Now where were we? Oh yes. That petulant inquirer almost derailed my masterpiece, and the train isn't anywhere near the station yet. Did you not see the disclaimer? This blog is the biggest piece of crap ever. Bigger than bono or even anything randy can make.

So, there we (yes, I got tired of doing the gospel of John never-mention-yourself-by-name gig) were approaching a altitudinous curb (as far as curbs go) immediately followed by a considerably deep pothole. I thought this could be a problem if I wasn't going fast enough (I was riding slow to stay on pace with my friends walking). I, however, thought I was going fast enough. In short, I wasn't. The front tire got stuck in the depression, walled in by the curb and the pothole's wall. My body and the rear part of my bike however still had some velocity. (now I start to misuse physics terms) But as my front tire was now immobile, my translational velocity turned into rotational velocity. Normally with wheel and axles, the body that is attached to the axle stays still while the wheel rotates. This is how bikes normally work. However, with the front wheel caught, that which was attached to the axle (the rear of the bike, and thus my person) rotated about wheel. This came to a climax and seemed to briefly pause when my bike was perpendicular to the ground. I then put my feet forward to land, slightly racked myself on the handlebars to more or less escape unscathed. my bike, however crashed to the ground, this time, from an even higher height.

Once again, no damage was observed, but once again, there was a latent problem that I wouldn't discover until 24th and Whitis (and not some BS emotional one just to make a story more interesting; inanimate objects don't have feelings).

Anyways, this was the damage: my bike no longer shifted into first gear or second gear on the left handle, and only gears 2-4 worked on the right handle. If you try and shift it into the 5th or 6th gear on the right, the chain came off, but not just off. The chain and the rear derailleur got tangled in the rear wheel spokes.

But of course, I didn't know this, and and at the aforementioned intersection, shift into 5th gear. Clickety clack. Crash. In the street. It's an on campus intersection, so it's not that big of a deal. Wounded pride, I get back on my bike and start to pedal but cant, because the chain and rear derailleur are IN THE SPOKES. If i kept pedaling I would, if i could, keep increasing the tension in the chain until either the chain or spokes broke.

I move my bike to the median to try and fix it. A policeman drives by, honks his horn, and yells at me, demanding that I "Get out of the middle of the street."

I have to carry my bike back to duren because the rear tire no longer rolls without turning the pedals (and since the chain is stuck with the derailleur in the spokes, turning the pedals increases tension in chain and spokes and could break them).

I just realized most people don't know what a derailleur is. It is the thing that causes the chain to shift gears.

My bike woes continued. Riding back from an elementary school, I shifted into fifth. It then occurred to me that that is what triggers my bike trying to kill me. The breakdown once again occurred in an intersection. This time I got out of the street without a cop yelling at me and spend five minutes getting my hands and subsequently my mouth dirty. (that's supposed to be an artsy fartsy double meaning english thing. hands getting dirty from grease trying to fix it, mouth getting dirty—cussing—upon frustration). Finally, hands streaked in grease, it untangles as I make a mental not to never shift to right fifth.

Last major bike woe (also occurred in an intersection):
It was Thursday, so that meant that I had to bike to UT elementary for a PE observation. It is about a 2 mile ride, uphill both ways, at least in parts. Don't worry, I didn't do it through the snow. (that's supposed to be a joke alluding to old people harping about how hard it was walking to school 3 times a day uphill both ways through the snow/rain, get it?)

Anywho, I often ride my bike with no handlebars (this is true, allusion coincidental) and find it very enjoyable. But as I entered the first intersection of the trip, Dean Keeton and Whitis, a fairly busy intersection literally about 300 yards from my dorm, I decided it would be fun to see how sharply I could turn without using hands. Turning without hands requires carefully shifting body weight with your hips. I can turn widely pretty well, but this time I go for broke and lean into the turn like a short track speed skater. I, however, was not going as fast as a short track speed skater. Thus my bike slid out from under me and I went over the handlebars, catching myself with the left side of my body. This resulted in many things. First, a transfer of black from the pavement onto my skin and clothes. My shirt now was garnished with large black streaks. Also, my left palm and forearm were a lovely grey-black color intermixed with red spots. It was really pretty. It made look like a tough guy. I also had a large scrape (~2 half dollars) on my left hip and small cuts/bruises on my left knee and right palm.

Someone asked me if I was okay. I quickly said, "Uhhyeahimalright," picked up my ipod, and went on my way. I had to leave the area of my wounded pride as quickly as possible dozens of people saw me fall. I'm happy to provide them with comedy, but just want to leave the scene. Anyone who has fallen/publicly humiliated themselves knows the feeling.

I still had to ride the 2 miles to UT elementary. Riding didn't hurt, but the moving air hitting my exposed wounds did. I got to the elementary school and went to the school nurse. ("Aww" is an acceptable response).


Assorted anecdotes.

• This semester, after crunching some numbers, I decided couldn't afford on campus breakfast each day with dine in dollars. Cereal to the rescue. Whilst Ben, Mclean and I were shopping at walmart with and perusing cereal options, we happened upon a couple whose three young children (all appeared to be under the age of five) rough housing. The father glanced over at them and proclaimed, "What dat queermakin' for?" I had to contain my laughter.
• Whilst doing the military press at the Rec Center (aka doing it for the troops), Ben and I somehow started trying to figure out if a certain song was written expressly for a movie. I then joked that songs written for movies aren't real songs, saying, "Yeah, 'Mrs. Robinson' is not an actual song." This apparently deeply offended the older (50ish-60ish) man next to us, as he promptly stopped his exercise, turned to us, and exclaimed with astonishment/disgust, "Did you just say that 'Mrs. Robinson' isn't an actual song?!?!

Hercules

The union had a free showing of Hercules. I had seen it once before in theaters, but didn't remember it at all, and Subtractadaughter (my friend addison) and kelly wanted to go, so I obliged. Here are my takeaways.

• I enjoyed it quite a bit, especially the music. (I'm a sucker for Disney music. I have a playlist on my ipod devoted exclusively to them, it's more than 20 songs long). I loved the gospel/soulful choir theme in the songs. My favorites were Zero to Hero, I Won't Say (I'm in Love), and Go the Distance.
• Meg is quite sassy, and quite unhealthily skinny.
• I thought that Danny de Vito was funny as hero trainer guy. But I couldn't help thinking of him as Frank from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
• When I heard 'Go the Distance, it struck me emotionally with a loose parallel to striving for God. Look at the lyrics. Add through Him, with Him to many of the "I"s. Inspirational.

Final note for this installment (wait, i thought that leg shaving and girl talk were in this too? gasp, two parts)

The WNBA is airing lots of commercials during the NBA playoffs, notably this one. The ad juxtaposes clips of wnba and nba games, saying basketball is basketball, asserting that what you get in the NBA is the same as the WNBA. What ever happened to truth in advertising? I will now leave you free to insert disparaging comments about the WNBA as it pleases you.

Toodles.