bike porn
taken direct from diary.
9.25 p.m.
My mum is mad.
She is so nuts that if she ever booked a flight to Fruicake Land they would automatically upgrade her seat to ambassador class and, upon arrival, crown her their queen.
Only my mum would think of walking 3 km to buy a bicycle and THEN, with it in tow, buy a pair of fash footwear (nothing for me, as the ah Beng family assistant at the offending shoe shop drawled out in his fresh-faced,neighbourhood-secondary school way), and then hop along cheerily to taste DURIANS. And then, because it promptly started to rain, travel 3 km home dragging along said bicycle, its basket now stocked with durians. Her daughter was in attendance to hold their one umbrella over her and the durians (admittedly that was my fault, because I live in mortal fear of a poke in the side from the handlebars.) We yelled at each other all the way home. It was great fun. It would not have been such great fun had the rain been anything beyond a mild car wash spritzer affair, so for this small mercy I thank the gods of weather and dedicate to them the durian that now resides within my tummy.
I love my bike. I would be the first to admit that it is a very girly bike. The top bar is missing from the frame (to allow missish people to ride in skirts, or pantaloons if they so choose) and it is coated in a lovely silver. The bell is alarmingly pink, but then that's what bells are for (to alarm, duh.) The ticking sound it makes when I move it is even more alarming, but that (I think) is because I must have done something clumsy and inadvertant to the geras as I was attempting to steer it for the first time. The silly thing ticked all the way home. But when my father fixes it I shall love it much better.
My bike has only been with me for two hours and already I've had an adventure with it! I love my bike!
9.25 p.m.
My mum is mad.
She is so nuts that if she ever booked a flight to Fruicake Land they would automatically upgrade her seat to ambassador class and, upon arrival, crown her their queen.
Only my mum would think of walking 3 km to buy a bicycle and THEN, with it in tow, buy a pair of fash footwear (nothing for me, as the ah Beng family assistant at the offending shoe shop drawled out in his fresh-faced,neighbourhood-secondary school way), and then hop along cheerily to taste DURIANS. And then, because it promptly started to rain, travel 3 km home dragging along said bicycle, its basket now stocked with durians. Her daughter was in attendance to hold their one umbrella over her and the durians (admittedly that was my fault, because I live in mortal fear of a poke in the side from the handlebars.) We yelled at each other all the way home. It was great fun. It would not have been such great fun had the rain been anything beyond a mild car wash spritzer affair, so for this small mercy I thank the gods of weather and dedicate to them the durian that now resides within my tummy.
I love my bike. I would be the first to admit that it is a very girly bike. The top bar is missing from the frame (to allow missish people to ride in skirts, or pantaloons if they so choose) and it is coated in a lovely silver. The bell is alarmingly pink, but then that's what bells are for (to alarm, duh.) The ticking sound it makes when I move it is even more alarming, but that (I think) is because I must have done something clumsy and inadvertant to the geras as I was attempting to steer it for the first time. The silly thing ticked all the way home. But when my father fixes it I shall love it much better.
My bike has only been with me for two hours and already I've had an adventure with it! I love my bike!
posted by the zen thing at 9:41 pm
1 Comments:
Alarmingly pink... T_T I nearly spat out my tea when I saw that pun.
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