Mybichael
I'm beginning to feel like an overwhelmed parent.
My modes transportation are just running amok, and I'm beginning to wonder if I am really cut out for this sort of thing. I mean, who knew it would be this big of a responsibility? Sure, I thought it was a "good time" bringing these things on the scene, but now I have to maintain and care for them... all while trying to instill a good values system and some semblance of morals? There are so many influences out there, trying their very best to corrupt my innocent creatures, that I just don't know how to keep up! I mean, just look at the problems I've been having with iOFF. We finally get the "Special" tattoo surgically removed, just in time to encounter further evidence he's been off with the wrong crowd. While in some tricky atmospheric conditions, the Swedish Gopher and I noticed that iOFF has invisible body art on his back window!! A cross-hair, no less! What does it all mean!? I'm afraid to let him sit outside at night... who knows what sort of trouble he's been getting into?? A cross-hair sticker residue! What's next??
Which brings me to Mybichael. The poor little guy has always been so sweet, but clearly the result of a $50 transaction. He's no lovechild. Mybichael was brought into the family on September 8th, if I remember correctly (and I don't). He was a very well behaved youngster, but clearly I did not provide the welcoming and caring environment he needed. How was I to know? I was young and foolish. He stayed outside. Well, after iOFF had that passionate tryst with the Jeep, I began to see signs of change in the young one. Indications that he, too, was starting to "hang" with the miscreants next door. It is a little disturbing for me to recall at the moment... we'll get back to it.
Anyway, Mybichael, or Mybike, as I typically call him, has regressed significantly. Just look at this cry for help. If this doesn't scream Mothball-at-a-Silverhawk's game, I don't know what does. He just missed the target a little:
So the lil' guy has been acting out. Leaving messes everywhere, crying out for attention. But it hasn't been until recently that he's begun making attempts on my life. You see, I live on the Champs Elysees of the Midwest. Well. No. But that's what some article I read in the Daily called it. Way off. I live pretty much on University Avenue, one of the most trafficked surface streets in the Twin Cities Metropolitan Area. This road travels through a very diverse cross section of humanity as it connects the cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul. The particular stretch I cover has several lanes of traffic and crosses the 8-lane I-35W. Following the Hiawatha Line (Minnesota's amazingly useless light rail)'s success, there are plans to run a train right down the middle of University Ave, in order to connect the two cities. It snowed today:
A lot.
Mybike has found it funny to pull its teen-aged rebellion stunts during some of the most inopportune times on this little trail. Particularly this morning, as I was blasting through a foot of snow, he kept trying to lay down right in the middle of traffic! Just the other day I was telling my mother how I was in danger of being hit by a car and causing a huge pile up. Her response was "be careful." Good advice, Mom, but you should try telling that to Mybike. He's the one who sends me sprawling in front of all that traffic. Lately, I've begun to suspect that he has a thing for the Metropolitan Transit busses. It is kind of scary... let alone sick. I've been checking the fidelity of his lock and chain.
Back to those hooligans he's been "chillin'" with. They vandalized him! They stole his seat and reflector, while jimmying the brakes in what was, I'm quite sure, an attempt on my life! Look at him! I stole another bike seat as recompense and now he needs a target shopping bag to hold him together. It's sad. He can't even make it through the parking lot anymore! Sure, it hasn't been plowed yet this winter, but come on! -6 degrees? Don't be a wuss, bike! Gears weren't meant to freeze!
His antics have begun to reflect poorly on me, I now believe. In August, it was cool to be seen with him. Now, in my Eskimo gear, people look at the two of us in such a way that I can tell they know. They know.
What's a single bike owner to do?
My modes transportation are just running amok, and I'm beginning to wonder if I am really cut out for this sort of thing. I mean, who knew it would be this big of a responsibility? Sure, I thought it was a "good time" bringing these things on the scene, but now I have to maintain and care for them... all while trying to instill a good values system and some semblance of morals? There are so many influences out there, trying their very best to corrupt my innocent creatures, that I just don't know how to keep up! I mean, just look at the problems I've been having with iOFF. We finally get the "Special" tattoo surgically removed, just in time to encounter further evidence he's been off with the wrong crowd. While in some tricky atmospheric conditions, the Swedish Gopher and I noticed that iOFF has invisible body art on his back window!! A cross-hair, no less! What does it all mean!? I'm afraid to let him sit outside at night... who knows what sort of trouble he's been getting into?? A cross-hair sticker residue! What's next??
Which brings me to Mybichael. The poor little guy has always been so sweet, but clearly the result of a $50 transaction. He's no lovechild. Mybichael was brought into the family on September 8th, if I remember correctly (and I don't). He was a very well behaved youngster, but clearly I did not provide the welcoming and caring environment he needed. How was I to know? I was young and foolish. He stayed outside. Well, after iOFF had that passionate tryst with the Jeep, I began to see signs of change in the young one. Indications that he, too, was starting to "hang" with the miscreants next door. It is a little disturbing for me to recall at the moment... we'll get back to it.
Anyway, Mybichael, or Mybike, as I typically call him, has regressed significantly. Just look at this cry for help. If this doesn't scream Mothball-at-a-Silverhawk's game, I don't know what does. He just missed the target a little:
So the lil' guy has been acting out. Leaving messes everywhere, crying out for attention. But it hasn't been until recently that he's begun making attempts on my life. You see, I live on the Champs Elysees of the Midwest. Well. No. But that's what some article I read in the Daily called it. Way off. I live pretty much on University Avenue, one of the most trafficked surface streets in the Twin Cities Metropolitan Area. This road travels through a very diverse cross section of humanity as it connects the cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul. The particular stretch I cover has several lanes of traffic and crosses the 8-lane I-35W. Following the Hiawatha Line (Minnesota's amazingly useless light rail)'s success, there are plans to run a train right down the middle of University Ave, in order to connect the two cities. It snowed today:
A lot.Mybike has found it funny to pull its teen-aged rebellion stunts during some of the most inopportune times on this little trail. Particularly this morning, as I was blasting through a foot of snow, he kept trying to lay down right in the middle of traffic! Just the other day I was telling my mother how I was in danger of being hit by a car and causing a huge pile up. Her response was "be careful." Good advice, Mom, but you should try telling that to Mybike. He's the one who sends me sprawling in front of all that traffic. Lately, I've begun to suspect that he has a thing for the Metropolitan Transit busses. It is kind of scary... let alone sick. I've been checking the fidelity of his lock and chain.
Back to those hooligans he's been "chillin'" with. They vandalized him! They stole his seat and reflector, while jimmying the brakes in what was, I'm quite sure, an attempt on my life! Look at him! I stole another bike seat as recompense and now he needs a target shopping bag to hold him together. It's sad. He can't even make it through the parking lot anymore! Sure, it hasn't been plowed yet this winter, but come on! -6 degrees? Don't be a wuss, bike! Gears weren't meant to freeze!
His antics have begun to reflect poorly on me, I now believe. In August, it was cool to be seen with him. Now, in my Eskimo gear, people look at the two of us in such a way that I can tell they know. They know.
What's a single bike owner to do?
Your bike (YourBike? YourBichael?) is stongly reminiscent of Stitch's cat.
Posted by
Lizett! |
3:35 PM
That makes about as much sense as Boltzmann Transport!
-P. Ruden
Posted by
Anonymous |
1:14 AM
Mybichael?! That's hilarious! Sweet sassy, mo-lassy, I've broken out the checkbook, paid grandma, turned into a teapot, and ran right up your skirt, it was so good! The cost will be prohibitive!
Spurs win!
Posted by
Anonymous |
12:10 AM