Guaranteed to incite reactions

I don't know what it is about me, but there's some sort of aura around me that makes people behave strangely. Case in point: people in old, red jeeps.

Last week, as I was riding home from work, this young dude in an old red jeep nearly ran me over because he wasn't looking for oncoming traffic before pulling out into the road from a grocery store. No big deal, I braked, he saw me, he braked and looked sheepish as I rode past him. Standard procedure, right? Nope. He eventually did make it into the road, and as he passed me he shouted out "I'm sorry!" quite loudly and waved.

What am I supposed to think of this? People in cars don't talk to people on bikes. Unless they're whistling as they go by, or unless they personally know the biker. But ok. I accept your apology and and somewhat confused and grateful for it, I guess.

And then tonight! I was riding home from work again, wearing my work slacks all rolled up slovenly to my knees so I wouldn't get them ripped up or greasy, and I was stopped at a red light. This... female person... (too old to be a girl, too young to be a woman, too crass to be a lady) drove up into the right turn lane next to me, and started the most bizarre conversation with me that I've had in a long time. During the time she was waiting to turn right, she chastised me for not "rocking out" to Whitesnake, made inappropriately generous assumptions about who slaps my backside (and whether or not it jiggles on those occasions), mimed fellatio ("practice makes perfect!"), and asked me how much weight I've lost (what, in my lifetime? In the past three months? Since we began this conversation?). Then she just drove off, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust and bewilderment.

What is it about me that invites people to just talk to me whenever they feel like it? I'm just trying to get home so I can spend a few hours unconscious before another day of stress and hard work. Please don't talk to me.

Recess: The Revenge!

Tonight I fingerpainted Kermit the Frog on a bicycle (my friend did a stunningly accurate Boba Fett and R2D2), ate Oreos and chocolate milk and Gushers and Fruit by the Foot, played Pictionary of 80's pop culture icons, sang along with Disney songs, played tetherball and four-square, and watched Muppet Treasure Island while lying on the floor on my stomach. Then I rode my bike home.

It's good to be a kid again, even if for just a few hours.

Sorry excuse for a post: somebody else's poem.

One should always be drunk. That’s all that matters;

that’s our one imperative need. So as not to feel Time’s

horrible burden one which breaks your shoulders and bows

you down, you must get drunk without cease.

But with what?

With wine, poetry, or virtue

as you choose.

But get drunk.

And if, at some time, on steps of a palace,

in the green grass of a ditch,

in the bleak solitude of your room,

you are waking and the drunkenness has already abated,

ask the wind, the wave, the stars, the clock,

all that which flees,

all that which groans,

all that which rolls,

all that which sings,

all that which speaks,

ask them, what time it is;

and the wind, the wave, the stars, the birds, and the clock,

they will all reply:

“It is time to get drunk!

So that you may not be the martyred slaves of Time,

get drunk, get drunk,

and never pause for rest!

With wine, poetry, or virtue,

as you choose!”

- Charles Baudelaire

Harder to do with a fractured elbow? Yes or No.

Scrub the toilet: yes.
Eat with a fork: yes.
Type: no.
Use a mouse: yes.
Drive a car with manual transmission: yes.
Get to work on time: no, but don't tell my boss.
Watch silly videos on youtube: no, thank goodness.
Twist your arm about one degree in a clockwise manner: HOLY MACKEREL YES.
Brush hair, shampoo hair, scratch head: yes.
Deal with the way no pianist seems to be able to count out how long the long notes at the end of each phrase in "Be Still My Soul (Finlandia)" are IT'S FIVE BEATS PEOPLE: always hard, fractured elbow or not. I'm just grumpier about it when I'm in pain.