It's never too late.

And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way

Weighing my pockets with stones of longing

Especially when those days are Saturday and Sunday.

They always come crawling back

Tuesday afternoon I rode my bike to work. I think this was the day that my brakes spontaneously decided to stop working. Unfortunately, this happened just as I was coasting speedily down the hill just the other side of Goodsell... I was about to mow over three innocent pedestrians, so I swerved into the grass, hoping the uneven terrain and friction would help slow me down. On the contrary, I seemed to speed up and rode the next 20 feet terrified, going over the bumps in the ground as smoothly as I would fall down a few flights of stairs, narrowly missed a lamp post, skimmed over a manhole and was repeatedly bounced against the horribly un-soft seat, the whole time praying that the vibrating handlebars would not shake loose my grip and therefore send me either a) into the slime of the lakes and to a gruesome death from giardia and miscellaneous toxins or b) to a gruesome death sprawled on the pavement or otherwise entangled in the railings at the side of the bridge. Somehow, I managed to survive.

After this slight ordeal, I went into the Rec Center to get my coat and other sports monitoring effects. Cute boy, thankfully, had been behind the counter and had missed my earlier vehicular performance. I hoped he couldn't see the residual panic and embarrassment in my face, and tried to keep the shaking in my voice to a minimum when asking for my radio. I slapped my key-card up against the scanner and smiled at its little happy beeping noise. So relieved was I for having not completely fumbled with my words in front of Brendan Fehr boy that I didn't notice the red "unaccepted" light on the scanner. I strode solidly into the turnstyle... and it slammed solidly into my stomach and thigh with an oddly animated "cruh-LUNK" noise. I immediately apologized to it, realized I was apologizing to an offensive inanimate object, blushed profusely, frantically tried to turn around in the gate to reswipe my card, and watched the adorable clerk, who was currently looking with EXTREME concentration at his textbook unsuccessfully trying to hide his amusement, discretely buzz me in from behind the counter. I rushed as best I could through the mangling metal with my cumbersome tent-sized jacket and dangling first-aid fanny pack (so stylish) and mumbled an exasperatedly humble "thank you" and hurried up the stairs two at a time so I wouldn't have a moment to contemplate tripping and tumbling back down.

Now that I know who he is, I can address him by name and THEN be awkward and hilarious.

*shakes her head*

It's amazing, the talents I have.

~Allison

Allison's short career as a stunt artist and physical comedian at 5:35 p.m.