Motorcycle manuals and Shoeless Marcus

So now I'm writing because I enjoy writing in my blog. Well, I guess when you really think about it, that's why I always write in my blog. What I mean is today I have no intended topic. I just want something unexpected, interesting, and a little funny - like silly string - to come out of my fingers. That's a simile, not a genuine expectation that I have. But seriously, imagine silly string did come out of your fingers? You know I just realized I didn't make that up. Dane Cook made that up. It was in a bit about what you would do if you had your choice of super powers, and Dane's choice was to have spaghetti dispense from his finger tips. The sound effect that accompanied it was a fart sound every time he shot it. It was more of an embarrassment tool against others than anything else.
A funny thing happened on the way to MEC:
So a couple of days ago I convinced Alaina and Bob to come to MEC with me. I was going to get that first item off the list: the shoes that would prevent future foot impalations. It's frickin' impossible to get Merrell or Teva water shoes in this part of Canada, even (especially) online. So finally I decided the ones the MEC website had weren't that bad, a pair of Solomons. I didn't feel like going it alone, so I invited Alaina and Bob to stop studying and come with me, and they obliged. We motored down the 401, in and out of traffic jams, and the first stop was the Camp Kandalore office. Mike Moore, the owner, was there to give me my camera, the one I won in the Our Kids Go to Camp photo contest. I need to ebay this thing, stat, before the value depreciates. If you have any friends interested in a camera, go ahead and bid on it, the auction's here:

http://cgi.ebay.ca/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=7609711471

7 day auction, started the 12th of april, so get in on it while the price is down, cause trust me, it will go up.

Anyway, now that that advertisement's over. . . On we pressed. We made our way into the downtown core, and Alaina directed us to the MEC parking garage. We parked and, hungry as all hell, walked right past the store entrance to Shoeless Joe's right down the road. Zofia, the Slavic server, was curteous, but took for fucking EVER to get our bill and things to us. We got out of there and walked to MEC. It was 7:50, and lo and behold they were god damned closed. I won't say it was a wasted trip, but it sure as hell wasn't what I expected. Alaina thought they closed at 9, and none of us double checked that so. . .
Anyway looks like I will have to go back to solve that problem. Now I have a stack of finals to mark though, so going to have to put a dent in that while I'm at it. . .

Usually I have a story about what some dumbass did when I was on my way to this or that, and I'm sitting here thinking "I must have seen some dumbass do something dumb assed in the recent past, no?" YES! On the way back from MEC - or I should say dinner in TO - we drove through the darkness, the sun had just gone down. We came up on a group of three motorcyclists, crotch rocketeers. I could barely believe what I saw, the leader of the pack, up 5 cars or so and a few lanes over from us was pulling a wheelie. He was going 140, at least. I know that cause that's how fast we were going and he was peeling away like we were parked. He held the front tire up in it's manual for what seemed like an eternity, even changed lanes with the wheel in the air, illuminated from the bottom up by the headlights of the no doubt panicking drivers behind him. When his wheel touched down the sped off and the others wove through traffic to catch up with him. That's the guy you don't want to meet through a friend and get stuck with. I guarantee he has the IQ of a jar of mayonnaise.

To close off I wanted to make some joke about shoeless Joe's and shoeless Marcus, but I think I just did. Besides, that's a bad joke anyway.