I just stood in the tub watching the hot water run. I turned the handle on and off again just to be sure. Hot water, otherwise known as cash money, continued to pour from the faucet. 5 hours later and I have some quality time with my old buddy Tommy to be thankful for, and some knowledge of the mystery of where the water comes from. All anyone ever tells me is, “Shit flows downhill and payday is Friday.” That’s not enough to fix a faucet.


That’s okay. I didn’t want to ride anyway, and my bike is at the shop. What better on a Sunday morning than the suffocating responsibility of home ownership? There’s your buzz, your precious endorphins.

Yesterday I rode with the Dogboy and Greg the Leg. I went until I was spent. Somewhere on the backside of the Pedrick Greenway I said, and I quote, “I don’t think you pussies could drop me if you had the gas to try.” They disappeared like the Starship Enterprise. After that the ride got a little nicer, but I saw them again later. That mouth of mine, it does its own thing.


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