If in real life I ever hear someone say “deese” for “decent”, oh dear.
My dad rides. He used to race, but the costs of fixing the injuries (both to his body and his bikes) cost too much, so he stopped. I grew up going to races and watching my dad ride round and round. Once a year we would go to Reno (aka the middle of nowhere, except they threw in a few casinos for kicks) and watch him ride. He’s pretty beastly: he has rode in doubles, which are races that are 200 miles in a day. His calfs are pretty intense too, like concrete. Dang. Anyway, summer means cycling is on tv at all times and you do not change the channel and don’t you dare record over any of it, or my dad will let us know. So, we just watched a short documentary on this team.
Oh! He let me ride his baby today. That was shocking, but of course (thankfully) he had his hand on it the whole time.
“Don’t step on it. There’s a raging river under there.”
| *Hears noises at night*: | Well this is it this is the end for me I had a good life |
| *Gets shampoo in my eyes*: | I guess I'm blind now how am I going to go on |
| *Heart is beating fast*: | I think I am having a heart attack is this what cardiac arrest is |
| *A cop walks by*: | Here I go about to get arrested I probably murdered someone |
| *Taking a test*: | Don't take your eyes off of this paper you will get caught cheating and get kicked out of school |
| *Gets a sunburn*: | Skin cancer |
| Dad: | Homes, I can't get it off! |
| Homes (what my dad's calls his best friend): | Get what off? |
| Dad: | My freak!! |
“The spoon actually has its own story.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“I slip spoons in people’s pockets. I’ve done it thousands of times. It’s like pickpocketing, but the opposite. It’s a very special skill.”*
*The best part of this story is that Meg Ryan walked by in the middle of the conversation. I quickly asked for her photo, but she turned me down. I wasn’t too concerned though, because I knew she’d only have been half as popular as Spoon Guy.
