Monday, January 02, 2006
and a happy new year
(file under the ongoing perils of the Good Doctor Noyz)
The Holiday season ended yesterday as it began: falling down.
Not fallling down drunk, although alcohol was typically involved at some point in the story, but falling down nonetheless.
Yes it's shocking but true, I have been known to indulge in the consumption of alcohol. (He typed as he sipped from his heavily spiked with dark rum morning coffee. But don' gimme no shit, it's the last day of my vacation.)
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving, whilst on a routine bicycle outing to meet the boys for a beer, (stone cold sober at the time) I found a previously undiscovered hole in a street near my home and went flying headfirst and ass-upwards over the handlebars. The whole experience left me looking something like this. (The photos were taken four days after the incident. Believe me, my dear reader, it looked much worse immediately afterwards.):
And while many a lesser man would have interpreted that as a sign of Divine Providence and limped sadly home, opportunities for spending an afternoon while bicycling to beer are not as frequent as they once were.
I am afterall, first and foremost, a family man. But family man or not, as I have stated, these opportunities are not to be missed.
I dusted myself off, jumped up and back on, and continued to meet the boys at the local coffeeshop and starting point.
Oh, and the look on the faces of the girls who worked there! Imagine your reaction if you looked up from behind the espresso machine and saw a road rolling filthy hippie missing huge chunks of skin and literally dripping blood from three of his four limbs walking into your establishment.
Priceless.
Jumping back to the present. . .
Last night, when riding home from an afternoon of biking and beer with the boys, I had another incident. Granted, I spent much of the time tempting fate and taunting Eris by making jokes about my previous misadventure and recent prediliction for falling off my bicycle.
Or just falling while near it, as was the case when walking home from a tailgate party festivities in October because I lacked the balance to steady myself while riding. Thanks a whole fucking lot for that Spew and Sloth. Damn you bastards for controlling my mind with your not so subtle peer pressure and multiple deliciously evil Russian Quaaludes at a long favorite watering hole. It is true, some hills are just too steep to climb. My shoulder still hurts.
Jumping back again to the relative present and continue with where I left off before my Russian Quaalude confession. . .
Do not, my dear reader, I repeat do not, taunt or trifle with the heart and affairs of the beloved Goddess Eris.
'cause she will fuck you.
And not in the fun way.
More in the "bend over and grab your ankles, here comes a stack of unlubed tuna cans" type of way.
After riding around without incident all afternoon, joking as I went past every pothole, obstacle and potential hazard. . .
As I am literally feet from being safely home, turning into the driveway, I can see the door. . .
I turn through this. . .
I feel my back wheel begin to slide. I think, "Holy fuck, and I'm so damn close to home. I almost made it."
I wind up flat on my ass staring up at the sky and looking like this. . .
Sweet merciful crap.
May we all have a 2006 free from falling.
|
The Holiday season ended yesterday as it began: falling down.
Not fallling down drunk, although alcohol was typically involved at some point in the story, but falling down nonetheless.
Yes it's shocking but true, I have been known to indulge in the consumption of alcohol. (He typed as he sipped from his heavily spiked with dark rum morning coffee. But don' gimme no shit, it's the last day of my vacation.)
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving, whilst on a routine bicycle outing to meet the boys for a beer, (stone cold sober at the time) I found a previously undiscovered hole in a street near my home and went flying headfirst and ass-upwards over the handlebars. The whole experience left me looking something like this. (The photos were taken four days after the incident. Believe me, my dear reader, it looked much worse immediately afterwards.):
And while many a lesser man would have interpreted that as a sign of Divine Providence and limped sadly home, opportunities for spending an afternoon while bicycling to beer are not as frequent as they once were.
I am afterall, first and foremost, a family man. But family man or not, as I have stated, these opportunities are not to be missed.
I dusted myself off, jumped up and back on, and continued to meet the boys at the local coffeeshop and starting point.
Oh, and the look on the faces of the girls who worked there! Imagine your reaction if you looked up from behind the espresso machine and saw a road rolling filthy hippie missing huge chunks of skin and literally dripping blood from three of his four limbs walking into your establishment.
Priceless.
Jumping back to the present. . .
Last night, when riding home from an afternoon of biking and beer with the boys, I had another incident. Granted, I spent much of the time tempting fate and taunting Eris by making jokes about my previous misadventure and recent prediliction for falling off my bicycle.
Or just falling while near it, as was the case when walking home from a tailgate party festivities in October because I lacked the balance to steady myself while riding. Thanks a whole fucking lot for that Spew and Sloth. Damn you bastards for controlling my mind with your not so subtle peer pressure and multiple deliciously evil Russian Quaaludes at a long favorite watering hole. It is true, some hills are just too steep to climb. My shoulder still hurts.
Jumping back again to the relative present and continue with where I left off before my Russian Quaalude confession. . .
Do not, my dear reader, I repeat do not, taunt or trifle with the heart and affairs of the beloved Goddess Eris.
'cause she will fuck you.
And not in the fun way.
More in the "bend over and grab your ankles, here comes a stack of unlubed tuna cans" type of way.
After riding around without incident all afternoon, joking as I went past every pothole, obstacle and potential hazard. . .
As I am literally feet from being safely home, turning into the driveway, I can see the door. . .
I turn through this. . .
I feel my back wheel begin to slide. I think, "Holy fuck, and I'm so damn close to home. I almost made it."
I wind up flat on my ass staring up at the sky and looking like this. . .
Sweet merciful crap.
May we all have a 2006 free from falling.
|
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