Shout Out

I'd like to give a little shout out to friendly people.

Thank you.

But to tell that story, first I have to tell this story. But how far back should I go? This story could have a lot of good beginings but I feel like rambling.

This story begins at Blockbuster. I wanted to rent a game (inFAMOUS for you kids keeping score at home) but Blockbuster, being the sad Netflix-wannabe it is, was out of stock. So, not wanting to go home empty handed, decided on getting Ghostbusters: the video game! But guess what? My friend Kevin was there! not working, just getting a movie. And he was friendly. NEXT
So I've been home, playing Ghostbusters for about 2 days straight, sleeping and eating between ectoplasmic encounters, when my mom finally has gone cabin feaver. But its my mom's special brand where she needs me to get out of the house. Which is a fairly reasonable request since I've recently used the phrase "ectoplasmic encounter" and I've put my Facebook status as "Aint afraid of no ghost*". So I get home, and decide to go **running. But just the idea of phisical activity has givin me cramps. So I tell my mom, "I think I have apendicitus" so she asks "well what hurts?"
"my apendix" a-doy
eventually the apendix got better and I go running. But first I grab my bike. No where around my house is run-able. Unless you like thorny bushes and scary getto trailer homes (nother story)
So I go out. But not just, Hey I'm going running. Leave everything at home because I'll be right back. No. Not the way I roll. If I get a flat tire in the middle of a zombie uprising, I have a plan B. So I go out with my lil swim bag, with my lil amp speakers (I run in style) and a quart I think of ice water (its in a lil square milk jug. my new favorie water bottle). Now you might say, "but, with your running shorts, how are you going to transport the water jug?" hardcore style. on a belt.
So I go out on my bike. With my backpack, provisions, and my knife on my hip. It only takes one hobo with an HIV shank to ruin your night. Live and learn.
So I'm goin. Its a nice night. Under 100 degrees. Maybe. So then I get up to a crosswalk. bust out my water jug and wait for the light. light turns and I start to walk my bike, old habits die hard. And I was thinkin to myself, I don't have my glasses. I can't even read the DO NOT WALK sign. and then I thought, as I passed the cars waiting for their light, what if one of these cars is a jerk and honks their horn? I'm going to jump and they're going to laugh and I'm not even going to be able to see- and right as I thought that, interrupting my thought. I hear it.
"YO SchrOeder!" they said it wrong but I let it pass
I turn to my left, into the blinding headlights and I used that as my excuse not to see. I don't know who this kid is, sounds like a kid on the swim team though. That would explain the SchrOder and not the SchrAder. So I return, "HEY whats up man!" with a smile. I don't know who that kid was, but this blog is to him.

Ghost bustin' makes me feel good

*cause I aint
**I use the term running very loosely