NOTE:
This entry was started weeks ago. As some of you know, my life has been crazy busy and it's a triumph that I have survived with coherent thoughts intact. Anyway, I'm just going to finish and post this because it's too good not to!

You ever had a moment where you're going about your life as normal, but everything around you is completely not normal, as though you're in an avant garde movie that's supposed to be earth shattering and a piece of cinematic elegance that was created by some dude on an opium derivative? If not, I suggest watching anything by Ingmar Bergman.

Anyway, Monday began per usual, at least for the first 30 minutes. I leave my house and begin walking towards the bus stop. As I'm walking down the street, I see it. A man, I assume, running down the street in what looks like serious jogger wear, everything skin tight, BUT he's also wearing a bicycle helmet... no, there is no bike anywhere. Another thing of note was his lack of shoes. Just to remind anyone who may be reading this in the future because my writing is worth going back to repeatedly, it is eeeearly March, specifically the first day of March when I witnessed the first float of the crazy day parade. No shoes, no bike, and running would maybe be okay for a very short distance, but I better see a bike within a short distance or I'm going to start thinking that you fall down a lot and need to protect your melon. (side note on recent events: I fall down a lot, but I don't wear a helmet. In the process of moving, I decided to carry a 40 inch TV down a flight of stairs all by my lonesome. MG promised to guide me with the customary "step, step, step, etc.", but she saw something shiny and neglected to say "step" again. I nearly broke both the TV and my kneecap. The TV works just fine, but my knee clicks a little. Oh well, at least it doesn't go numb like my right hand! That's a story for another day, and I've also told MG that I'm revoking her "helping the blind" merit badge.)

The Running man kept running. He made it to the end of the street and turned left. I made it to the end of the street and did the same (my bus stop is that way. I wasn't following). Running man kept running. He passed my bus stop, where the high school kids were waiting with iced coffees, tight pants, and slippers that they're trying to pass off as shoes. (Note to kids: THEY ARE SLIPPERS. Wear REAL shoes. A) you look stupid. B) it's very bad for your feet to wear shoes with poor support. One day, you'll realize this, and you will grunt when you get up and then walk slowly. This shall be your fate.) I watched as the Running man kept going down the street and around the bend until I couldn't see him any longer. Still with no bike and no shoes. It was rather sad and then my bus came. I often wonder about the Running Man and those thoughts make my feet ache. I hope he found his bike and/or shoes.