Saturday, November 17, 2007

Bike Buster II

To be fair, I had crashed in the wet grass just before I got to the Blockbuster.

I had patches of mud on my windbreaker and fatigue pants.   I had had a couple of vodka-rocks before I left the house, so the kids on duty probably thought I was a near-homeless drunk.   I mean, only losers ride beach-cruiser bicycles to the store, right?   (Well, at least around these parts)

And, because of the door set up, it is really not a great idea to take the bike in this particular store, although there was plenty of room along the wall for it, out of anyone's way.   I just wanted to give it a try because it was simpler than locking the bike to a tree the way I did last time.

Speaking of crashing, this looks cool.


The_Scum said...

I'll be FIRST to plagarize the 'senile dementia' line from comments on the thread below.

Things could always be worse...penile dementia?

Anonymous said...

Polo on bikes is cool, but this is cooler:

vinnymoe said...

Not for nothin' but, My life was enriched by these monotoned minded morons via U.S. mail.
One month ago today i left so. cal.
One week before that I rented 3 vidios.
The notice i recived said i failed to return one of them.
Called them, the dummy of the day said "let me check the shelves". I don't understand this as they use barcodes and computers.
5 min. later "OK Sir I found it"
What the F! asked for confirmation in the mail,"oh no your acct. has been cleared"
Got her name. Probably will loose 50-75 credit score points before i know it.
It's worth not having to admit in open court that i rented "Blades of Glory"

Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas ... with the music at top volume and at least a pint of ether.

-Hunter S. Thompson

Dedicated to the other side of Las Vegas, namely; the sprawling, mad, incoherent underpinnings of the world's favorite destination.

That, and the occasional ranting about nothing in particular.