Aw, come on APj, it’s… it’s just like falling off a bike…
Is that the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard? I mean, do you remember falling off a bike?!?!?! I mean, if you were riding a “cool” bike - a boy’s bike, regardless of your own gender and all – and you were standing up and pumping your way
--geez, just went to the store…
-anyhoo, you were pumping away, and your foot slipped, and
BAM! (Just like that cook on T.V.)
...Ya’ KNOW ya’ just tried to put PEEING off as long as you could, cause you knew it was gonna burn the next time you peed.
“….just like falling off a bike….”
Who the frick came up with that saying anyway!?!?!?
I remember another time I fell off a bike:
I was twelve or thirteen (or so) and my best friend Trish (the dish) and I were riding around the neighborhood. I know I was at least twelve, cause I had my cool ten-speed. Well, almost cool. It was white. I wanted blue. So my Dad painted it blue. Only, then you couldn’t tell that it was a “NAMEBRAND” bike – it looked ‘GENERIC.” Which was only a little important….
-I digress. Sorry.
Trish and I were riding, and some boys were chasing us about. Actually, they were chasing Trish around. ‘cause she was Trish the Dish. Me? Way before the “Airplane Jayne” days – err…..I was “Jayne the pain.”
no wonder I grew up to fling my body from planes…..
--Apologies again. I’m so easily distracted these days.
So, we’re riding around, being chased by cute (as cute as 12 yr olds can be) boys, when one of the uglier ones (naturally) runs his bike into mine.
--let me see if I understand
Kindergarten – throw rocks to show interest
Middle school – run into with bike to show interest.
What should I be looking for now in my forties?
Someone to plow over me with their car!?!?!
(yes, yes, went to the store as soon as I said plowed over)
Back to me at 12yrs old:
I leaped from my bike. I’m trying to do so gracefully, so as to impress my ugly suitor. Alas, to no avail, as I land on my own back tire. –err, I mean my bike’s back tire, not my ass. I stand up, brush myself off, and casually look down at my left foot.
--which looks funny……there’s a space…..a rather large space…..next to my big toe…..
“Holy shit, Trish!”
“Holy shit! My toe’s gone. My fucking toe is gone!”
Yes, damnit, I cussed. I do that when I’m
a. drunk (Drunk Jayne in her own front yard is fricking funny)
b. in pain. (Drunk Jayne usually feels very little pain)
So Trish …..Trish begins to dig in the gutters for my toe.
I mean – is that a true friend or what? She is digging through all the muck and gunk in the gutter for my toe. And the boys – the boys? Hell, if it was Trish the Dish’s toe they’d have been digging too, I’m sure. But for Jayne the pain – nope, they were adios, adieu, bye-bye.
I took a step towards the gutter, to lend a hand for my toe, and felt something squishy under my foot.
“Nevermind. I think I found my toe.”
“Under my foot.”
“Is it – allthewayoff?”
My four point inspection verified that said toe was still mostly attached, and so Trish pumped me (so not going to the store on that one – don’t swing that way) home, with me carefully and tenderly holding my foot.
Upon arrival, Mom shoos me to the car, off to the emergency ward, and, nine stitches later sums up the entire episode with these wise words:
“That’s why you should always wear shoes when you ride your bike.”
“just like falling off a bike.”
Yeah….right. All ya’ll can keep your fricking realistic and metaphoric bikes.
I’m not interested anymore. Walking suits me just fine.
But I ST-T-T-I-I-I-L-L-L luv ya....