Abnormally outspoken moments in time.

 Someone called me abnormal the other day, and yes, my abs are normal, but that's the only part of me that is.  He didn't really mean it, though.  He was calling me odd. I've been called all sorts of things, good and bad, but that was hard to stomach cause he's right. It's true. I'm abnormal. It's a gut feeling some people get.  I'm not just a nerd; I'm weird. You know... other-ish.

 It looks like I come from the Dumbell Nebula, somewhere in the middle of the constellation Vulpecula.

The resemblance is clear.
It's me all over. Dense, yet nebulous.

I'm daft, too.  More daft than your average bean.  Most humans share 25% of their DNA with a daffodil, but I'm half-Daff. Don't ask how I know, but it's a fact.  That's why I have so much petal power.

It might also explain why I'm hard-on things.

Like this.  Take a look at what happened to my bike as I was riding along in third gear the other day.

It's a special gift,

or maybe I just have Gremlins.

It was clicking a bit on that sprocket that day, but only that sprocket.  It was skipping every so often, too, toward the end, whether I was on the big chain ring or the small one.  That's why I was headed to Mighty Riders prior to my planned route.  I was a mere eight blocks from the shop when it happened, too.  Just a mile or so earlier, I was flying down fourth at woooo hooooooo speeds, and so I'm grateful it didn't happen then.

As it was, I was in the middle of a busy intersection.
It was Very.  Scary.

 I want to know two things:

                                                 1.  WTF happened?

and

                                                 2.  WTF happened to Campagnolo's lifetime guarantee?

I thought the old saying was "Campagnolo wears in and Shimano wears out?"  They should amend it to "Campagnolo suffers catastrophic failure and then profits on replacement parts."  Ed at Mighty Riders didn't charge me shop fees, bless him, and those spokes are a serious bitch to thread.  You need a magnet or something.  Never mind the tensioning.  Even so, even without shop time, this was an expensive little issue.

Meh.  Another one of THOSE weeks.

I keep asking why why why? but no-one has an answer.  Ed doesn't know.  I asked him how I can prevent it from happening again, and do you know what he said?
He said I should cross my fingers and pay up.

Double meh. 

So I looked long and hard at the exposed gear cluster, gritted my teeth, and shifted my cognitive capabilities into overdrive.

(Drumroll please!)

Sorted.  Using my remarkable design sense,  reclaimed Canadiana artifacts, and (box) cutting-edge technology I've come up with the perfect solution.  

Needless to say,

I couldn't find a case of Thirsty Beaver or I would have a different pie plate today.

Sure, it won't stop the derailer from self-destructing, but it will save my pretty, shiny, beautiful gold wheels from becoming collateral damage next time around.

You have to protect the things you love.

That's why I wear a helmet.  I might only have a couple of brain cells, but I love them, and helmets help, right?  That's the theory behind BC's mandatory helmet laws, anyway, however flawed our current safety standards might be.  Trouble is that law is going to prevent our newly approved bike-share program from making any headway. Some genius came up with the idea of helmet vending machines.

Helmet. Vending.  Machines.

This would be bad enough, but it's worse than that.

Much worse.

If I were on a bike-share bike-cycle and didn't have a helmet with me, I'd simply join the many thousands of Vancouverites out there who pretend the helmet law doesn't exist. 

I would NOT rent a helmet worn by countless other riders that day.

Super EEEW.

Bloody hell.  It's enough to drive a girl to drink.

Better yet, let's go for a ride.