Meowza.

Waking up I laughed when I received the following text message in my inbox (it was probably a funnier because I haven't had any coffee)
"when you wake up my bike is tied to a tree in your yard. the key is in your mailbox."

this was also incredibly hilarious at the time it happened:

Biking Accidents

So I found this, something I wrote this summer I found it oddly hilarious and disturbing. Totally worth sharing.

I came back from the island experiencing a little culture shock. I was rolling around on a private island with no police, no law enforcement and a population of about 20 people living on it when I left. Needless to say, societal integration has been lulled & heavily lubricated with beer and Blackalicious. Read this knowing these facts. Read this knowing I am not proud of those facts.

I rode my bike to school. I was so stoked about my sweet shiny vintage Schwinn that when I left I forgot my keys and locked myself out of the house unknowingly. I get home and I reach in my purse and realize that I don't have any way of getting into the house. Luckily, I have friends who have keys, so I eventually find a copy. On the way home I decided that I need posters for my room. Nothing screams, "You're cool and Aesthetically pleasing!" like my mocha cream walls. Ick.

So, I go with it and ride my bike downtown. I forget my lock for my bike in the house so the entire time I'm buying posters, I'm peeking out the window afraid someone is going to steal my bike. No one does because its ....Bellingham.... and people are awesome (or at least, I hold the façade that people are awesome). So I stick the two posters awkwardly in my purse. They're hanging out and it's kind of hard to bike, but I manage. That is until a car starts pulling out of a parking spot right in front of me. I swerve strangely on my bike, posters hanging awkwardly out of my purse, and they smack me right in the face. That's right, Bob Dylan and Picasso straight up smack my face. I lose control of my bike because I have no idea how the fuck I went from riding super smoothly to having posters aggressively attack my face. Before I know it, I ride smack into the cab of a truck. The license plate reads, "Montana Big Sky Country" and this grizzly full on bearded man comes out the bagel place and kinda just stares at me. I look at him back. I ask him if he wants to look at the back of his huge truck to see if I did any damage. He kind of half grunts and shrugs, "no…" and walks away. Thanks? My arm is kinda bleeding. [Note: His beard was very prominent and furry. I guess in Montana you need that to keep your face warm]

I pick up my posters from the middle of the street and my arm is swollen in one place and severely bruised. I look up again and I see a police officer walking by on the sidewalk. I intently look at him. He intently returns the stare then looks down at the sidewalk and shakes his head. And walks away. He motherfucking walks away. I'm so pissed at this point, because a) I was hit by Bob Dylan (!?!?!) b) I ran into a huge parked truck in front of a ton of people and c) The police office didn't even ask if I was ok. Isn't that sort of their job? Come on higher authority, I almost just got hit by a car, got slapped in the face with posters AND interacted with a beared man probably descended from Sasquatch and/or a large ape. I know I have a goddamn bias with those in power, but really, this didn't help much. The law states that bicycles should adhere to the same laws that cars do when riding. If this was the case, the car not yielding to me was illegal. Point Blank. I hit a goddamn car to avoid being backed into by another. It hurt. The car was a jackass and the police officer saw it all and didn't give a fuck. So pardon me for being just a little enraged with a blue arm and leg. Displaced? Maybe a little...

I get back on my bike and ride home, pop some Tylenol and drink a Coors Light. From a can. That's right, not only did Bob Dylan slap me, then I was ignored by law enforcement, I'm bleeding & swollen & I'm drinking Coors Light out of a can on my floor listening to Le Tigre.

Such is life. But I suppose, in all reality if that's the worst I've experienced in a while, I'm doing pretty good.
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