Found it! The bicycle thing....WOOHOO!
OK, it was a pain in the ass to write out and prolly a pain in the ass to read, but this shit is funnier. I think I like it so much cause it's like stand-up with music that I like. How can you go wrong?
So, read it, dammit!
This is a song about bicycles and sometimes how you have a favorite bicycle. And you ride it and you love it, and you think this is the best bicycle, I could possibly win a charity race with this bicycle. This particular bicycle, this bicycle is everything I’ve ever wanted in a bike.
And later the bicycle starts to act up, something’s wrong, you’re not sure what. Is it the brakes, maybe the gears are stripped?
What’s wrong? You try and fix it, you try talking to the bike….Bike, what’s the matter? Sweet 10-speed, why don’t we win anymore? What’s the deal? What’s gotten in the way of this?
The bike doesn’t respond, the bike just pretends everything’s peachy.
Then one day, you’re riding your bike, front wheel comes off, face-plant, digger, broken nose, bloody lip, the whole nine yards.
And you look to your bike, you say, “What’s the matter, bike, what did you do, why did you do that to me?”
“We coulda won this charity race.”
And the bike says “I think our time together is over.”
But the irony is that the damage is already done, you’ve already got a broken nose and a split lip.
And the bike, just the whole time, was just fucking with you.
It knew it wanted out, and it was just waiting until that moment when it could pull the trigger and maim you.
This cracks me up. Hopefully, you too.
So, read it, dammit!
This is a song about bicycles and sometimes how you have a favorite bicycle. And you ride it and you love it, and you think this is the best bicycle, I could possibly win a charity race with this bicycle. This particular bicycle, this bicycle is everything I’ve ever wanted in a bike.
And later the bicycle starts to act up, something’s wrong, you’re not sure what. Is it the brakes, maybe the gears are stripped?
What’s wrong? You try and fix it, you try talking to the bike….Bike, what’s the matter? Sweet 10-speed, why don’t we win anymore? What’s the deal? What’s gotten in the way of this?
The bike doesn’t respond, the bike just pretends everything’s peachy.
Then one day, you’re riding your bike, front wheel comes off, face-plant, digger, broken nose, bloody lip, the whole nine yards.
And you look to your bike, you say, “What’s the matter, bike, what did you do, why did you do that to me?”
“We coulda won this charity race.”
And the bike says “I think our time together is over.”
But the irony is that the damage is already done, you’ve already got a broken nose and a split lip.
And the bike, just the whole time, was just fucking with you.
It knew it wanted out, and it was just waiting until that moment when it could pull the trigger and maim you.
This cracks me up. Hopefully, you too.
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