Grown Men on BMX Bikes (and other things that get on my wig)

Strolling home from the shops this morning, I was nearly run over by a man riding his bike on the footpath.

FOOTpath. Not BIKEpath, FOOTpath.

That's all I will say about people who ride their bikes on the footpath.

This guy had to have been at least mid-thirties. And he was riding a BMX. Similar to the one my brother rode when he was ten. This guy had to stand to pedal the thing - his legs were far too long for him to sit and pedal. And he rode it in that swinging style that BMX-ers use... you know, the style designed to whack anyone who gets too near.

Now this bike looked pretty speccy. New, shiny, good tyres... ie NOT SOME OLD BIKE HE'S HAD SINCE HE WAS TEN BECAUSE HE CAN'T AFFORD A NEW ONE! Why on earth would you buy/ride a bike which is clearly too small for you? Why not upgrade to a mountain bike? You know, a bike your size?

I hate writing in caps, but sometimes you just gotta vent.

Grown men on bikes that are clearly too small for them get on my wig.

Walking back down my street, I also noticed rather vast amounts of dog faeces scattered about the footpath. What is wrong with dog owners in my neighbourhood? Do they not take advantage of those free doggie-doo bags the council provides? Are they too lazy/old/fat/stupid to bend down and pick up their dog's sh*t?

Gets on my wig it does.

I've finally hit the 'D' section on the iPod upload. So far I have 1,147 songs loaded, which equates to 35.8 days of music and 3.92GB of space. I'm still loving myself sick with it.

But back to my griping.

I went to do a load of laundry this morning and my flatmate had used all the washing powder. Or should I say MY washing powder.

I don't mind people using my stuff, but I like it to be replaced. Preferably with the same brand. I'm a bit of a brand whore.

That really got on my wig.

I was at The Fitz* on Monday night for a playreading. On my lonesome, because all my so-called-friends had bailed on me. I had initially thought I would be fine to just wander on down from the train station and wander back up to the train station afterwards, but sometime on Monday afternoon (after the last person bailed) I suddenly thought it might be more convenient (not safer, just more convenient) if I borrowed Bestie P's car. Which I did.

Which is probably just as well because later that night I get a call from Bestie Lulu to say that her boy (who is also a wonderful friend) got stabbed outside The Fitz last week. If you want the gory details, go read Cotton's blog. He was with him at the time. That's the third person I know who's been mugged/stabbed/assaulted outside that place.

He's ok. Stitched and sore and freaked, but ok.

I'm thankful I had the idea of borrowing Bestie P's car on Monday night instead of wandering the streets alone. But I'm kicking myself that the only reason I did is because I was feeling lazy.

I need to think more about safety.

And more than anything, it gets on my wig that I have to do that.

Why can't everyone just be nice to everyone?





* The Old Fitzroy Hotel, Woolloomoolloo