Monday, February 02, 2004
It all started with Philip's suggestion that I take the bicycle in the back yard. The rationalization that if it got stolen at school, we wouldn't be at a loss because we were going to throw out anyway, made perfect sense to me at the time, and seemed like a great reason why I should ride the bike.
The chain was rusty and encrusted with ice and snow, there was twigs and brush frozen to the front tire, the seat was set too high, and the back brakes didn't work.
"Just coast down the hills!" Philip warned me.
It wasn't so bad at first, I had problems at the Commons when I tried to ride through snow.
I quickly caught on and was cursing traffic with the best of them. I took a bit of a spill near LeMarchant Street and had to remount the bike. I realized then that my ass was rather wet due to the snow that covered the bike seat.
I made it to the library with time to spare and went to the learning commons to check my email. Most of what I received was friendster messages/requests from fellow Gary Beals fans. It felt appropriate, being in a library and all. (By the way lots of people at the library are talking on their phones, but not a single one is text messaging...what is up with that bullshit?)
Feeling a sense of triumph, I got up from my chair and noticed that in the centre of it there was a big wet spot. No, no, it wasn't the snow from my pants, it was URINE! I pissed my pants at university!!
The chain was rusty and encrusted with ice and snow, there was twigs and brush frozen to the front tire, the seat was set too high, and the back brakes didn't work.
"Just coast down the hills!" Philip warned me.
It wasn't so bad at first, I had problems at the Commons when I tried to ride through snow.
I quickly caught on and was cursing traffic with the best of them. I took a bit of a spill near LeMarchant Street and had to remount the bike. I realized then that my ass was rather wet due to the snow that covered the bike seat.
I made it to the library with time to spare and went to the learning commons to check my email. Most of what I received was friendster messages/requests from fellow Gary Beals fans. It felt appropriate, being in a library and all. (By the way lots of people at the library are talking on their phones, but not a single one is text messaging...what is up with that bullshit?)
Feeling a sense of triumph, I got up from my chair and noticed that in the centre of it there was a big wet spot. No, no, it wasn't the snow from my pants, it was URINE! I pissed my pants at university!!
Mark! Why are these plants outside?
What plants?
[I walk outside to the backyard]
Oooh those plants...well you see Philip and I thought we needed more room in the kitchen so we moved them out here.
Why out here? That's awful they're going to die out here, why can't you guys keep them inside?
Well you see it's like this, Philip and I thought it'd be funny if we had our own version of Survivor with the plants. Each plant represents one of the members of the household. This one's Phil, that one's me, that one over there is Faith, and the little one is Vickers. Whichever one outlasts the other three gets to move back inside. They consented to the whole thing.
Mark, there's flowers on this one, you can't do this!
Claudette, I always knew you were prolife.
What plants?
[I walk outside to the backyard]
Oooh those plants...well you see Philip and I thought we needed more room in the kitchen so we moved them out here.
Why out here? That's awful they're going to die out here, why can't you guys keep them inside?
Well you see it's like this, Philip and I thought it'd be funny if we had our own version of Survivor with the plants. Each plant represents one of the members of the household. This one's Phil, that one's me, that one over there is Faith, and the little one is Vickers. Whichever one outlasts the other three gets to move back inside. They consented to the whole thing.
Mark, there's flowers on this one, you can't do this!
Claudette, I always knew you were prolife.
