Sunday, December 07, 2008
So, anyhow, we all leave together to the Run and there are already what seems like thousands of people there. We park, we walk to where you donate the toys and/or food you've taken and then you just hangout and wait for the ride through the city to the vendors and beer. We walk through each isle checking out the bikes and saying hi to acquaintances. Finally everyone starts getting on their bikes and it's time for the ride. It's police escorted and any street we ride down is blocked off. There are people pulled over waving and smiling with their cameras in hand. The news is at all different corners of the streets. It's awesome to see the excitement to see the kids reaction when you wave back at their excited little faces. The ride itself is absolutely gorgeous. As you're going up one hill, you look back and see all the bikes behind you. It seems to be never ending. As you get over the hill and look ahead, the never ending line is also in front of you. The mountains are off to the East, the desert surrounds you, and that day the weather was perfect.
So we're driving, the guys are messing around being big dorks and then someone says something happened. We look back and realize that all of our friends have pulled over. So we turn around in anxiousness and haul ass over there to see what's happened. Thank God everyone was okay and one of those dummies RAN OUT OF GAS! Because I mean, who would put gas in their motorcycle when their going to a city outside of theirs and then on a bike run? So we are all pulled over and they're getting gas out of one of the other bikes. As they're doing that I start to record those passing by with my NEW $180 Nikon digital camera. The other girls walk up behind me and we're just waving at people and I'm recording. I eventually turn to our group (about 20 or so bikes) of people and say sarcastically "Oh, and us? Us? We ran out of gas!" So everyone starts laughing and waving at the camera as I'm taking steps back to fit them all in... And I KNOW that the last bike was my brothers but all of a sudden I'm flying a good two-feet in the air, full back somersault over the front wheel of a bike onto desert. Desert has stickers. And dirt. And then my ass implanted in it. While all these badasses on bikes watched and laughed their asses off. And those that saw ran to tell the others. Was I embarrassed? I mean, why would I be? I'm all badass on the back of a Chopper with a group of badasses on killer bikes while thousands of people drive by on theirs and watch me flip over like a freaking jackass. My arm was in serious pain for a couple of days, the tattoo hid most of the brusies, I got most of the stickers out, and I broke my camera the first real time I took it out to use it. And yes, it's all on video. Only you can't see me fall, you only see the camera throw a killer somersault. Luckily, my boyfriend didn't deny me and was still okay admitting I was his girlfriend. Because had it been him, I'd have told them some weird guy who fell in front of the world was bugging me. I can't wait for the next run. :/
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
It's a Free Ride When You've Already Paid
My boyfriend... Well, he thinks my musical taste is "weird" and "emo" and ")insert vulgar language here)." What's the one kind of music I liked but didn't really listen to? Country. Ask me. I dare you. Ask me what he listens to. COUNTRY. We both like the OG stuff like Hank Williams and Loretta Lynn and all those cool cats, and I don't even mind the Garth Brooks and George Strait and stuff, but that is ALL he listens to. At least for the most part. We can agree on oldies and at times main stream hiphop, but he just can not stand what I like. No Ryan Adams, no Yeah Yeah Yeahs, no Dredg, no oldschool, nada. AGH! I can listen to just about anything and find something to appreciate about it, but him, he can't. So country it is. I know the words to Troubador and then some! And I love Brooks and Dunn, I don't care WHAT you say, but God PLEASE help me! Seriously, I'm all twanged out right now. Oh, and he likes rock and it just so happens to be the kind I don't really care for. It's heavy and metal and old or something. I don't know, but I don't care for it. However, we both love rockabilly and spend our free time listening to local bands and watching all the greasers dance to it while we drink our PBR.
Oh, and is he jealous? IS HE JEALOUS? I mean, why wouldn't he be? Everybody in all the world wants me right?? WRONG! Tell him differently though. I dare you! God forbid if I glance at a boy because OH. MY. GOD. I'M IN LOVE WITH HIM.
Does he love all the world? NO. Does he hate all the world? No. But, he trusts no one. Does he dance? Of course not! Don't be silly.
We have NOTHING in common. Nothing. Other than we like tattoos. And we DO NOT like the same kind of tattoos. Mine are "hippy." And because of them and because of how I get along with everyone and the glass is half full, damnit, I've rightfully earned the name "Moonflower." It works.
He bought me a really nice pocket knife. A sweet Kershaw. The Scallion series. WHAT the fuck was he thinking? ;)
I love him. Peace, man.