Rambling Rhodes

Weekend Ramblings

I really like Melissa's new apartment. It's cleaner. It's newer. It's in a nicer neighborhood. It's just a few steps from Ol' Mexico, which has NTN trivia and two for one drink specials from 10 p.m. to midnight.

But, damn it. It's so loud!

Mel's apartment complex is located on Lexington Ave., which doesn't mean anything to people who don't know the Twin Cities, but let me just assure you that it's a very popular road. All day and all night long, all you can hear are vehicles puttering down the street, from muffled compact cars to bone rattling Harley Davidsons. During the spring and summer weeks thus far, with the windows open, Mel's apartment sounds like the hub of a Nascar race.

Melissa can sleep through it all like it's nothing more than toads singing in a pond. I, on the other hand, can't take it. I repeat. . . I CAN'T TAKE IT! I mean, I can fall asleep okay, when traffic is relatively light, but come dawn the commuters on the street below simply refuse to let me sleep soundly. *vrrrooooom* *errrrrrrrrr* *rrrrrummmmmble*

ARGH!

When sleeping at Melissa's, my morning dreams flash by in disjointed half-novellas, with each mental story line being rudely truncated by a passing vehicle. It's the dreaming equivalent of flipping through television channels. And it's not at all a restful way to spend a morning. Sure, it's still sleep, but it's not good sleep. But, enough bitching about this, especially when there are so many other things I can bitch about.

There's this shirt I wear when I go running, and I wear it because I love watching the reaction of people passing by. It's a tee shirt I bought in Colorado nearly six years ago that has a buff and ripped male torso on the front and a buff and ripped male back on the, er, back. It's a hysterical shirt because, from a distance, it looks damn convincing and real. People are always doing double-takes when I go running by, and as you all know by now, I'm an attention hogging freak. Well, anyway. . .

I went for a run Friday evening before Melissa got off work. I was running through a busy intersection on my way to Como Park when a car full of giggly girls started tootling the horn and leaning out catcalling me, oohing and ahhing and laughing about my shirt. Distracted, I glanced ever so briefly at the car, and in that instant I ran smack into a post sticking out of the sidewalk.

This particular post, which is used by pedestrians to activate the "walk" sign, was at just the right height to wreak havoc with my groin, by which I mean I hit the post in full stride, and I'm fairly certain I felt my testicles flair out, swing around the post, and clack together on the other side. This was a direct hit of magnificent proportions, and it wasn't two seconds later that every vehicle waiting at the intersection was enthusiastically blowing their horns in gleeful delight. I remained stoic, and despite searing pain, I managed to continue my run for about a block and a half before I went slinking off on a sidestreet, where I sat down on the curb and nursed my nads.

Let me just assure you folks, the pain was exquisite, and it took a full ten minutes or more of soft sobbing and cursing before I was able to stand up and resume my jog, albeit with a slight hobble. This was not the first time a gaggle of girls distracted me and caused me bodily harm. Some day, I'll relate the tale, if I haven't already, of when I rode a bicycle into a lake whilst ogling some scantily clad females.

Saturday, Melissa and I went to Valleyfair, which is more or less Minnesota's answer to Six Flags. I like to go to Valleyfair at least once a year, if for no other reason but to remind myself what it's like to suffer motion sickness after riding every rollercoaster three times each. Mission accomplished. At the end of the day, whenever I closed my eyes, all I could envision was zooming along on metal tracks. Don't take this to mean I didn't have a good time, because Melissa and I had a wonderful time, and it was perhaps as near to perfect of a day as I've had yet this year. Between all the rides, and the junk food, and the two rounds of miniature golf, and the people watching, and the fact I didn't even once hit my nuts on a post the entire day, it was a great afternoon.

Sunday, Melissa had to work at 10 a.m., and I was so exhausted I barely remember her leaving. I stayed in bed until 1:30, trying to catch fleeting sleep between the passing of muffler-less vehicles. I finally woke up, made the bed, fixed the bathtub drain, and washed the dishes. I do these little things for Melissa because she lets me have sex with her, so it seems like a fair trade, although it's my understanding that she'd let me have sex with her even if I didn't do all the little things, so I may be over-exerting myself for no real reason.

This week, I start my final training for my hapkido black belt. I test on Sunday. I'm both nervous and excited about this. I really hope I don't crush my nuts again before Sunday.

Posted by Ryan at June 23, 2003 10:37 AM