I thought this hurt more than it should have:
On my way home last night, I was grunting up a steep grassy hill on the florescent death machine of doom when I lost traction. I fell. As I toppled, I tried to hold myself up by grabbing the telephone pole full of rusty screws next to me, but the combination of a 30 pound backpack and un-releasing clipless pedals thwarted my best efforts to stay upright.
I slowly stood up and my leg hurt like hell, but I immediately started to hobble away (just a few seconds earlier I was pretending that I was being chased by deer.)
"Oh god dammit dick salad. Why the hell did that just happen?" It happened because I suck. But at the time I fully blamed my bike, the telephone pole, worn tires, the grass, and the deer for making me run away from them.
I continued to hobble down the sleeping road for a few minutes before getting back on my bike. "Just pedal it off." I thought. Luckily it did stop hurting, and I was able to ride the rest of the way home, then spend half an hour slaloming the cement things in front of parking spaces (I can't remember what those are called.)
When I got in my house, I noticed that my shin felt a little wet. When I lifted up my corduroys, the inside and top of my sock was covered in blood. "Well that's just great. Now I'm gonna have to wash these pants" I lamented.
So I'm going to quit using that Rampage. Once I start hurting myself because something is worn, I get furious and light it on fire. Or I would, but I would be fined by the city, which would make me mad enough to light the ticket on fire, which would prompt another ticket and so on. It never really ends when angry things have to be burned. The world is a flammable place.
In contrast to fiery things, there's a gigantic storm thats about to dump snow on my (and most people east of Oklahoma's) little corner of the world:
(I know you want to know the "#1 rule to colon cleansing" and why "snoring can kill" but that's just too bad. Go ahead. Try clicking those links. They won't work.)
In parting, I leave you with Justin's new bicycle. It turned out absurdly classy:
I would be jealous, but it's just too put together for my tastes.