Biking, More OJ, Power Raking, and Bad Grammar
I am continuing my habit of being incredibly lazy and not writing about anything specific, but more about random stuff that I have come across. Will it make sense? No. Will you care about any of it? Not unless you are as odd as me. If you are, you have my pity. Anyway, let’s start this shit.

I went for a bike ride the other day. I often ride my bike, but this one was for a very specific purpose. Somehow, I was talked into participating in a team triathlon. I don’t know how, but it happened. Damn. Anyway, the competition requires someone to run, someone to swim, and someone to bike. I run like a person suffering from a severe neurological disorder and swim like most people drown, so I agreed to bike…fourteen miles. Holy shit. The people running this pedagogical experience in pain and endurance wanted an average time, so I took my bike out with the intent of going fourteen miles. Sunday was about the only day I had enough time and energy to undertake this task. The wind decided to blow that day at the leisurely pace of thirty miles per hour with gusts up to forty-five. Rarely, have I ever hated life, exercise, or the universe in general more than in the one hour and twenty minutes it took me to complete the course. Typically, I enjoy a bike ride, but this one forced out of me every profanity that I have ever learned. I moved on to foreign profanity at some point because the American stuff had lost its meaning. (My apologies to Mexico, Germany, and England for my foulness.) Regardless, I did the job. I have a time. I just have to do it the day of the actual race. Ah, fuck….

In continuing the orange juice saga that I started last week, something else caught my eye at the grocery store this past week. Next to the brilliant cardboard boxes of orange juice is the exact same product, for the exact some price, and from the exact same company, but it comes in plastic bottles. I thought this was genius. No more worrying about the ridiculous nature of cardboard when made damp. However, there was one slight difference. The plastic bottle OJ had a label that said “kosher.” Many of you are probably not surprised to hear this as you come from areas with large Jewish populations that would demand such a product. However, that is not the case here. My town is small and lacking in much diversity. There is no synagogue or temple here. What the hell is creating a large demand for kosher orange juice? Why don’t they also have kosher meats at the same store? My only theory is there is a small population of Orthodox Jews living in this small town who are also strict vegetarians and really dig orange juice. If I find them, I will let you know. In the meantime, I bought the cardboard box. I would hate to dip into their supply.

I tried power raking. It is something home owners are supposed to do to the lawn. I went to the rental place, was given a 150 pound object I shall call Satan’s lawn mower, and preceded to tear up my lawn. The device pulls all the old grass up so it can be raked up and removed. It has a bunch of little hammers that rotate like mad and vibrate some god damn hard that your shoulders will hurt afterward. Running Satan’s lawn mower was not quite as bad as the bike ride, but it was close and took two and half hours, so through shear time, it may have been as bad.

Lastly, I am going to make war on two local churches. This isn’t for religious reasons. I am defending the English language. The Methodist Church has been making frequent grammar mistakes on the sign they use outside the church for announcements. Mild things like misplaced commas, misused words, and the occasional misspelling have found me almost swerving into the parking lot, bursting through the door, and screaming for retribution. I haven’t yet, but it is coming. The other church that needs my indignity is the Baptist Church. They spell everything correctly, but they like puns and “clever” sayings. They are not funny. They are eye rolling. I grew up going to church. The only things these signs should say is when church is and the occasional inspirational scripture. No, English does not deserve this treatment by two major religions that should have that kind of dignity.

The English language probably didn’t deserve this either, but eh, faces don’t deserve soul patches either.

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