Ouch!

May. 7th, 2009 07:54 pm
thatgirlteresa: (Dr. Horrible: lolz)
I have never gone head-over-handlebars until today. My lovely older brother kindly replaced the rear inner tube on my bike today, I gladly accompanied he and Carmen on a bike ride. I also introduced Neville to the concept of running along beside the bike. Boy, he seemed to love it!

Well, at one point I wanted Neville to slow down because he was just so gung-ho! We were going down a hill and my rear brake hand was occupied by his leash. So I hit my front brakes only, and I hit them much to hard.

I felt myself heading over my handlebars. It was like it was happening in slow-motion, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. Next thing I know, I'm sprawled out on the ground, my ankle twisted among my bike with a couple of skunned up hands. I got up, brushed myself off, and (naturally) checked to see if anyone saw my moment of grace. Nobody did, as Carmen and Big Brother had gone ahead on a detour of a couldesac, and only came back to see me all scarred up.

Big Brother laughed and laughed and laughed and declared his great disappointment at having missed the sight.

Personally, I'm just glad that I finally didn't break a fall with my face. Couple this with the fact that nobody saw my wipeout, and I actually consider it a win of a situation.
thatgirlteresa: (George Michael Bluth)
Man alive, I am so glad that I went to visit Tiff yesterday. Our time together was marked by a wonderful viewing of Superbad, 80s Night at the Shout House, dollar vodka-red bulls, the befriending of a Michael Cera look-a-like, getting lost in a labyrinth of locked doors, escalators or staircases (the details are a little fuzzy), and possibly an elevator, a creepy man (probably black... again it's a little fuzzy) grabbing my arm once I successfully emerged from the labyrinth and refusing to let go and trying to drag me away with him, George Michael Bluth (Michael Cera look-a-like) and his friend in the maroon shirt saving me from the creepy man and almost getting into a fight with him, me somehow weaseling my way back into the Shout House without an ID or a stamp on my hand, more dollar vodka red bulls, a broken bra, and making out pretty hardcore with the guy in the hat (whose name is probably Eric). Also, I may have made out with the George Michael Bluth/Michael Cera look-a-like. According to Tiff's roommate Amanda, I did. I do not, however, have any recollection of that, so I'm going to say that she's confusing guy in the hat with George Michael.

Good times, good times.

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