Everybody get dangerous

After the horrid, soul crushing cleaning marathon yesterday, (ok, can I just say, I don't know what the hell that thing in the shower drain was, but I'm pretty sure I could have fended off a home invader with it...) I went on an awesome 15 mile ride with my buddy Pam. She's the only one fool enough to go out and play with me every night after work (and vice versa she says).

At one point I buzzed a yellow, not something I'd recommend or ordinarily do. Cars always win in car v.s. bike smackdowns -- but just as I victoriously streaked past the line of bumpers I had Weezer blasting "Everybody get dangerous" on the iPod. (Sorry, not on playlist, i tried and tried. Play "Troublemaker" by them, same vibe.) It was awesome -- and don't worry, it wasn't really that dramatic. It didn't turn yellow until I was part-way through, but I was totally gettin' dangerous man. (You can see how solitary cleaning confinement affects me right? It's not pretty.)

Anyway, after being crabby all day from not being able to write, some rather vital parts of my story began stitching themselves together as a I pedaled along. Sometimes a little fermentation helps.

This weekend we're having revolving guests staying in our guest room (dubbed "the apartment" because it's so huge) and parties tonight and tomorrow. That means I'll have to be satisfied with scribbling cryptic story related notes as I cook, finish preparing, and annoy my husband with my awesome singing and jamming out. Poor Dan.