Watch out for that tree!

Yesterday, in an attempt to get away from all the troubles of my household, and the men who are creating all the troubles, I took a nice long walk around my neighborhood.

Armed with my ZEN player, a handful of very angry rock & roll and some good old fashioned "I hate men" songs I headed out towards our local soccer park growling at the world.

Who needs 'em! I thought to myself, Men are nothing but trouble. A bunch of overgrown boys who can't do anything for themselves. I don't even know why I bother. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them! I was really hitting my stride.

Then my stride was cut off. As I rounded the corner and was about to turn right I was nearly run over by Lance-freaking-Armstrong on some dinky lowriding mountain bike. I brush the dust out of my eyes and recover all the life memories that went flying past me (first day of school, first time I realized Ballerina Barbie could kiss Doctor Barbie instead of Dead-beat Ken, first-time I read the Babysitters Club, first-time I ate Dippin-dots - you know...the important stuff) just as a second bike comes rolling by - but much slower this time. He turns to look at me standing on the corner: hips hung to one side, toe-tapping, skirt blowing in the wind from his stupid friend, then he turns to look some more, and some more. He finally blows past and I look the other way checking for anymore bikers coming to get me when I hear

SCCCRRREEEEECCCHHH! THUNK! AHHHHHHHH

I turn to see Biker #2 crash headlong into a tree - head turned almost all the way around his neck Exorcist style.

His buddy rides back to him and laughs (gotta loves friends) saying loud enough that I can hear it over my angry rock "Shit dude, I got whiplash but at least I didn't crash into a tree."

Oh, I think THAT'S why I bother with men.