Don't talk to the TV
You ever talk to the TV? Sure you have.. I know I have... I also know that stuff like that tends to irritate the crap out of friends and loved ones. What do you imagine it does to 28 perfect strangers? Classes of more than 10 people should be treated like watching TV with discreet and timely moments where interaction is acceptable. I'm not trying to be an ass, I'm all for interaction that everyone can benefit from, but when it comes to inane cackling, incessent noding, or any other activities that only show what an ass kissing whore you are.... well.. I stare at you with afore mentioned intensity secretly hoping you'll combust....
Sorry to fly off the handle but there you have it... one of my many pet peeves..

In other news , I finally took the bike in to the shop. I took it to the REI in freaking Cary which is about a twenty-five minute drive. Left it there and returned on Martin Luther King Jr's day just to get it. After a serious and awe tinged convo with Garland (I destroyed my rear derailer... cause I'm a mountain biking crazy man.. snicker), I learned that my fee had jumped from nothing to $35. Garland who was an interesting and very helpful cat convinced me that he'd done his level best to avoid a new part. He'd even tried to bend back my warped derailer. Like I said helpful. He even took the opportunity to whip out his impressively scary butterfly knife to cut a small piece of tape for me when I was in need (I became much more pliable at that point). At any rate I conceded that it had indeed been worth it to buy a new derailer as the old one tended to hit my spokes as the wheel revolved. I sucked it up and cheerfully walked out of there with a bike ready for me to demolish.. he advised me that I had a sticky link in my chain, but it would probably just work itself out... Cool I thought, I was already spending too many ducats on the derailer so who needs that added expense?.. Next day I jumped on me red carriage of death, headed up the hill to class, and the chain promptly snapped like a fat man's pants... I only add this analogy, because I'm starting to wonder if maybe all my bike problems are due to semi-regurlarly having a 230 lb man positioned in the region directly above the blasted piece of shit....
My own fault really...
mother#$%$