Ok He's concious....ASK him WHO ARE YOU... "NO NEED my dear ambulance driver...I'm ...er....I'm.....I'M BATMAN!"
Hello again dearly Beloved readers...
It appears your Dear author has once again topped himself.
This story begins with of all things an itch. Itches, being strange little entities, have a way of running around on you. You have to admit my devoted literary regular...that that back itch migrates just ahead of your scratching device at velocities even NASA has problems explaining. Mine is called the need to get on the bike...
The setting one of Beirut's BEAUTIFUL the cold was still in the air the Sun was preparing to give out tans to any piece of skin silly enough to be exposed and your beloved author had just washed his bike. Yes! Bikes need washed just like cars. Only unlike bubble mobiles bikes get the grease back on you for touching their chains and the dust always seems to hide back in the notch of the bottom bracket no matter how hard you try to wedge your cleaning cloth in there. But no she looked a beauty...sparkly blue and happy.
I strapped my helmet on, suited up in my Livestrong yellow jersey so that the animals that drive here might get their eyes caught on me and for once SWERVE OUT OF MY WAY instead of INTO IT! Clipped in and headed down the hill near the Apartment. Then.... IT happened... Don't ask how... truth is I don't remember I just woke up cut up with a pounding headache and confused as all hell. Yup! Accident! And, not 2 minutes into my ride. A trip to the ER at AUH (American University Hospital {AKA voodoo medicine at it's finest}) and the tests began. CT for the melon and bleeding in the brain...X ray for the hip, knee, and shoulder. All this JUST before my favorite class in the Gym... Spinning. I was heading out for a pre class ride hoping for a decent build on my endurance phase. Instead I got sat down and told to hold off training or face a severe beat down!
My helmet is smashed... My bike is fine... My collar bone broken...AGAIN... and then there is the whole not remembering anything. I have a strange feeling something is horribly AMUCK! Why is it that my right side looks like I've been attacked with a rabid vegetable peeler and my left side only has a strange black stripe above my ankle. Why is it that my bike is fine on the right side but the LEFT side's hoods and handlebars are misplaced...?
My natoor (God Bless Him) is thoroughly convinced there is a plot afoot!
It involves the Most EVIL trifecto imaginable comprised of a waiter, a dish washer and a parking attendant.
It is of course obvious that Vader and the Emperor will be making a cameo appearance in this film my dear audience; but the issue with the actor's guild and unions are giving us a bit of a problem with the actual recording of it....
So here I sit with some very precious chunks of my skin shaved off with my underwear attatched like a loving aunt to your cheeks. My favorite bits are lying somewhere on the tire beaten path of a Beirut street! My arm in a sling.
I can’t train just yet…I haven’t earned the authorization.
I daren’t do it to early because threats from this gate keeper are nothing to scoff at.
My bike will again grow lonely, my helmet will again be ordered, and I will long for the black river of bliss that carries me to the next hill.
It almost makes one weep at the waste!
In other events... Pressure increases and life drags... It could just be the effect of the cage...All that sun and road out there taunting you like that can't be good for the brain!!!
It appears your Dear author has once again topped himself.
This story begins with of all things an itch. Itches, being strange little entities, have a way of running around on you. You have to admit my devoted literary regular...that that back itch migrates just ahead of your scratching device at velocities even NASA has problems explaining. Mine is called the need to get on the bike...
The setting one of Beirut's BEAUTIFUL the cold was still in the air the Sun was preparing to give out tans to any piece of skin silly enough to be exposed and your beloved author had just washed his bike. Yes! Bikes need washed just like cars. Only unlike bubble mobiles bikes get the grease back on you for touching their chains and the dust always seems to hide back in the notch of the bottom bracket no matter how hard you try to wedge your cleaning cloth in there. But no she looked a beauty...sparkly blue and happy.
I strapped my helmet on, suited up in my Livestrong yellow jersey so that the animals that drive here might get their eyes caught on me and for once SWERVE OUT OF MY WAY instead of INTO IT! Clipped in and headed down the hill near the Apartment. Then.... IT happened... Don't ask how... truth is I don't remember I just woke up cut up with a pounding headache and confused as all hell. Yup! Accident! And, not 2 minutes into my ride. A trip to the ER at AUH (American University Hospital {AKA voodoo medicine at it's finest}) and the tests began. CT for the melon and bleeding in the brain...X ray for the hip, knee, and shoulder. All this JUST before my favorite class in the Gym... Spinning. I was heading out for a pre class ride hoping for a decent build on my endurance phase. Instead I got sat down and told to hold off training or face a severe beat down!
My helmet is smashed... My bike is fine... My collar bone broken...AGAIN... and then there is the whole not remembering anything. I have a strange feeling something is horribly AMUCK! Why is it that my right side looks like I've been attacked with a rabid vegetable peeler and my left side only has a strange black stripe above my ankle. Why is it that my bike is fine on the right side but the LEFT side's hoods and handlebars are misplaced...?
My natoor (God Bless Him) is thoroughly convinced there is a plot afoot!
It involves the Most EVIL trifecto imaginable comprised of a waiter, a dish washer and a parking attendant.
It is of course obvious that Vader and the Emperor will be making a cameo appearance in this film my dear audience; but the issue with the actor's guild and unions are giving us a bit of a problem with the actual recording of it....
So here I sit with some very precious chunks of my skin shaved off with my underwear attatched like a loving aunt to your cheeks. My favorite bits are lying somewhere on the tire beaten path of a Beirut street! My arm in a sling.
I can’t train just yet…I haven’t earned the authorization.
I daren’t do it to early because threats from this gate keeper are nothing to scoff at.
My bike will again grow lonely, my helmet will again be ordered, and I will long for the black river of bliss that carries me to the next hill.
It almost makes one weep at the waste!
In other events... Pressure increases and life drags... It could just be the effect of the cage...All that sun and road out there taunting you like that can't be good for the brain!!!
posted by otterinaround at 1:40 PM
2 Comments:
dearest otter,
i hope you get well soon.
Hey Batman I'm glad you'r OK enough to write again, and next time try riding your bike in circles over your roof, it's the safest place, where u still can get some sun warmth...unless you get shot, or hit by a plane from the Middle East Airlines.
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