Another Tuesday night. Another sprint practice. Another show of domination by yours truly. The numbers were nothing spectacular so I won't bore you with them here.
This morning I went to work and ran a PCA MALDI-TOF chromatography spectroanalysis on a drug that will cure all disease. The chemicals weren't coalescing as expected, so I gave them the evil eye; that got 'em into line.
Tomorrow is Karaoke night. I think I'll wear my tightest pair of pants. My tailor is making a small fortune off of me, as massive quads tear through the seams every week.
Yet another ProTour squad has contacted me to be their star sprinter. I'm not sure if it's because they want a rider who can win every race he enters, or if it's because they want my throngs of screaming fans to please the sponsors. Either way, I had to say no, because I wouldn't want to ride any bike but my beloved Fuji.Little known fact: One of the reasons I'm so good at bike racing is that I breathe different air than everyone else. Just by being within a certain radius of me, the air I inhale becomes rarefied and pure. True story.
Anatomists, physicians, and anthropologists all want to study me. I am a rare case indeed; where my shame gland should be, I actually have a second awesome gland.This got me pondering...
If I fell in the forest, and nobody was around, would I still make a sound? No, because I would never be in the forest; Mountain Biking is stupid.
Could God himself create a boulder so heavy that I could not lift it? Don't be silly. I am, after all, the son of Zeus.
Nobody has ever said "If Jenks cannot go to the mountain, bring the mountain to Jenks." They never had any reason to. I've always just ridden to the mountain, then ridden over the mountain, then won the sprint at the other side.
Don't hate me because I'm flashy and sure of myself. Hate me because I'm better than you.
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3 comments:
that was funny!
Where did I go wrong?
Mike's Mom
april fool's?
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