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The Day My Bike Seat Was Stolen

Those darn rascally kats are at it again, they’ve gone and hijacked the seat of my bicycle, which I loved very much for sitting upon while riding through town. I don’t know yet what it costs to get a new seat, but I think I’m going to hold off on making a purchase and see if maybe a ransom note shows itself.

I arrived at roughly 7:30 in the morning at the bike rack in front of a favorite pub of mine, to find the seat to my bicycle missing. A dastardly deed, indeed! (The stealing of my seat, not me finding my bike that way.) It made for a slow walk home, which was much different than the brisk walk I’d had to gather my bike, and much much slower than the ride I would have had home had my bike been functional. The problem being, that in stealing the seat they also stole the post, which I found out was a very necessary part to keeping the rear rack/basket set in place. Without the seat post, the rear rack/basket would swing backward and drag on the ground. So I had to hold these things in place while walking the bike home.

It definitely is not the end of my biking dreams, but kind of a bummer, to say the least. I’ll hoof it around the grid for a few days over the next couple weeks until I feel comfortable coming to terms with a new seat. Every dollar I spend on a new seat is one more dollar I won’t be spending to save the the lives of many starving children around the world. Think about that, you bike vandals, if you’re out there reading this!

Umbrellas And French Toast

I keep my umbrella in the trunk of my car. Along with my golf clubs, jumper cables, a visor, a few old broken computer parts, two screwdrivers, and some other stuff I rarely use, like a squeegee for the front & rear windows.

I don’t use vanilla extract for my french toast. I don’t know why. actually, it’s been ages since I’ve even thought about making french toast. Nichole talked about it once not too long ago, but I wasn’t listening. Or I couldn’t hear.

I like the fruit punch Gatorade. it’s my favorite.

Do You Feel It, Too?

It’s in my lower back.

It’s hard for me to write about it without making fun of it, and, really, I have no business doing either. Right? As if that’s ever stopped me before. Oh, you’re probably right, it has. Or, it does. I say we wait and let the plot thicken. In the meanwhile, we’ll all just mind our own.

Let me introduce you to my new friend, Abuterol. Comes in a nifty little canister. I breathe it into my lungs. My lungs are filled with air.

Twitter twitter.

Every day with the this and the that, the that and the this. What’s the point? Enough already, I say. Leave me be in my sea of misery. (I don’t mean that, it just came out.) I’m not miserable. I’m bored. I guess one begets the other, but that’s not what I’m saying. A lot of time was misplaced, and that’s mostly my fault. Heck, we’ll say it’s all my fault. I’ll take blame for that. Misplaced time. What was I thinking, or rather, why wasn’t I thinking? Such nonsense. Can’t go back. The other one deserved better treatment. Neither an Irish Whiskey.

Pink and yellow elephanted polka-dots. (What do you think that means?)

I think it goes without saying that I’m in a mixed mood. But, there you have it, I’ve said it anyway. That’s part of the problem with sitting in the car for so long in the morning, there is much too much time left for planning skits. When one is home alone for long periods of time, one will perform skits.

St. Patrick’s Day

bike crash

It’s the international American holiday of get drunk and crash your face while riding your bicycle drunkenly at two in the morning, which technically is the next day. It’s a glorious holiday, one I’ve been doomed to miss this year as the result of a terrible cold by-product. We’ll call it chest pain.

I’m sure with all the bicycle-riding pedal-pedants I know, at least one of them is also doomed — doomed to crash his face while riding drunkenly. It’s to be expected. They celebrate pretty hard, and are proud of that. I hope none of them is hurt badly. While it can provide for great entertainment, including side-bursting gut laughter, it’s kind of a drag if you have to take your pal to the emergency room at two in the morning. Undoubtedly, on this particular holiday, the emergency room will be filled with other drunken face-crashers, some more severe than others, and there will be no where to nap comfortably without getting a hollering from the nightly nurse who’s tired of drunk people all together. Good luck, she says.

St. Patrick's Day

bike crash

It’s the international American holiday of get drunk and crash your face while riding your bicycle drunkenly at two in the morning, which technically is the next day. It’s a glorious holiday, one I’ve been doomed to miss this year as the result of a terrible cold by-product. We’ll call it chest pain.

I’m sure with all the bicycle-riding pedal-pedants I know, at least one of them is also doomed — doomed to crash his face while riding drunkenly. It’s to be expected. They celebrate pretty hard, and are proud of that. I hope none of them is hurt badly. While it can provide for great entertainment, including side-bursting gut laughter, it’s kind of a drag if you have to take your pal to the emergency room at two in the morning. Undoubtedly, on this particular holiday, the emergency room will be filled with other drunken face-crashers, some more severe than others, and there will be no where to nap comfortably without getting a hollering from the nightly nurse who’s tired of drunk people all together. Good luck, she says.

Write it Now, Not Later

Seems like this should be basic sense when it comes to authoring posts, but for some reason I can’t get it stuck in my head. You have to write it when it comes to you, or as it’s coming to you. The longer you wait, the less likely you are to ever put anything down. Unless, maybe, it’s one of those things you’re really trying to build upon, and continually working in the back of your mind. Even then, though, it’d be a good idea to put some notes down.

Taking it a step further, go somewhere you’re not going to be interrupted, because distractions definitely take you off your path and screw up the flow. Even if it’s not flowing as is, getting distracted will just make it worse.

Perhaps we’ll get it figured out.

Savage Chicken Reminds of Ricky Berger

Today’s cartoon from Savage Chicken , reminds me of the first time I ran into Ricky Berger . It was the first time I’d ever attended a Second Saturday Art Walk and I’d been out drinking most of the day with a buddy. We stumbled into one of the art houses to find her singing. She sang Tiptoe Through the Tulips. And some others, but I don’t remember them. I remember very little. I was wearing a black hat.

We ran into her a few more times after that, but then she started touring outside our local living area, and I haven’t seen her since.

This cartoon also reminds me of the video game Guitar Hero. I’m not a fan. I don’t get it. Maybe it’s just me.

First Post

I thought for sure Wikipedia would have an article about the first post. Not mine, but the idea of it. That fact that nearly every heavily used message board or forum has people excited when they are first to post a response on a new topic. But, there is nothing in Wikipedia. Sure, it mentions "The First Post is a daily online news magazine published in the UK and based in London ", but that is of very little interest to any of us here. Here is where we were, and where we’ll continue to be. For now, at least.

Anyhow, the first post is complete, and now we can be moving along with our lives.