Someone told me today, “Happy Cinco de Mayo.” And I said, “What, do I look French to you?” Then they went on and on about how “cinco de mayo” was some holiday celebrating Mexico’s independance, and I finally had to interrupt them and ask again, “Yeah, so? Do I look French to you?” (Because I really wanted to know.)

Saturday a week and a half ago, I went on a 50 mile or so bike ride with Siobhan. It was up and over an infinite hill, then down to the beach, and back up and over an even longer hill. We made the trip official by touching the ice cold ocean, which would have been good for ice skating if only it were a couple degrees cooler. The ride would have gone fine, but I only ate a croissant before leaving (stupid), and had only a sandwich halfway through the ride. Well, along that big hill on the way back, I kept feeling more and more tired - my legs were fine, and I wasn’t breathing hard, but I felt like sleeping. And everything, everything, reminded me of food. I smelled some random odor emanating from the forest, and I could have sworn it was mint chocolate chip ice cream. I saw some crushed white rock on the ground, and marvelled at it’s resemblance to lemon cookie bars covered in powdered sugar. Finally I took Siobhan’s recommendation to stop (I was in a daze, apparently we were going about 2 mph), and she rode up a ways to get a snack from a gas station. Meanwhile, I staggered over to the side of the road, let my bike fall haphazardly to my side, and collapsed in a heap. I felt sleep coming on rapidly, but before I could doze off, a car slowed and the driver yelled “Are you ok?!” I told him wearily that I was fine. “Are you sure?” “Yes, I’m just resting.” This wouldn’t have been so bad, but that episode was repeated for approximately 10 cars as they drove by, each stopping to see if I was all right. Two motorcyclists and a Volvo stopped a little down the road and began to walk towards me, but were beat by an Audi that pulled up right next to me. I told them what was going on, and they offered me a can of “Orangina.” I don’t know what it was, but I had it down in a couple seconds. Another car stopped and gave me a box of fresh strawberries, which I also inhaled. I was feeling a little better now, and Siobhan returned with a lemonade, powerbar, and banana, which I made short work of. After this, we took off, making good time the rest of the way. The moral? No, not eat well before exercising.. It’s “When hungry, lie down beside the road. You will soon be satisfied.”

In the process of wrenching Sarah’s keys from her hands, I managed to bend the keyring a little bit. I, gentleman that I am, took it upon myself to restore it to its perfect circular glory. My hands didn’t quite get the torque I needed, so I bit down with my front teeth to twist the keyring. This resulted in a very unpleasant crunching/grinding sound, and sure enough, my top tooth was chipped, the chipped piece sitting atop the keyring, staring me down with defiance. “Ha ha, stupid idiot!” you might think. Well, I would think that too, except it was me, so instead, I try to think “What a brave soul, gallantly sacrificing his own tooth! A true knight, in a classic contest of steel vs enamel, to win the admiration of all!” Maybe I could add a bit more excitement and drama, but I want to retain my humility, too…

I ate a really good 1/40th of a burrito today in a reception for the school of education (it was a long burrito). After I finished, I gathered all my trash unto my dirty plate, stood up, grabbed my backpack and Root Beer, and…. My trash ridden plate had vanished. I looked under my chair, on top of my chair, on nearby tables… It was gone, gone! This is the kind of thing that can haunt you for days, so I hope I don’t have nightmares tonight…

Quote of the week:

Alex Jasso: It’s like seeing naked people playing brass instruments.

Will this quarter never end? Maybe, this chronicle did…