Friday. Alright, Friday wasn't bad. I got a call from the bank saying they believed I was in school and I could try to get the proof of enrolment to them next week. I worked and work is work and people are people and most people are pretty happy when they're in a bakery, unless of course they didn't get ribbon on their cupcakes and want your manager to be there so they can put her through the wringer but instead all they have is you and so they decide to defy the stereotypes of customers being pure evil, and are quite reasonable instead. Things were so-so.
In fact, Friday was kind of amusing. I went to the gym in the afternoon, something I generally detest because afternoons mean hoardes of fairly buff people in the 20-something Male category, and that's intimidating. I prefer early mornings, when most of the people there are only just awak enough to concentrate on keeping their heart rates in a certain zone and maybe watch the morning news. But on this particular Friday, I discovered the joys of eavesdropping on desperate men trying to hit on athletic women. This guy spent most of his workout telling a 90-pound asian woman what it was like to be a kickboxing instructor with arms so strong that people hurt their legs when they try to kick you and you block them. When she remained unimpressed, he started trying to make her feel bad for being unable to bench press more than 120 pounds. No one should ever feel bad for being unable to lift more than they weigh. I started following them around the weight lifting room, doing whatever excercise was 2 machines over from them so that I could surreptitiously listen to the man make a fool of himself.
Saturday. I had managed to snap my bike chain while biking down Osborne the week before, and Dad had very kindly fixed it for me Saturday morning. When I hopped on the bike to ride it to work, I found that the chain guard was coming off, and was at such an angle that the bike made an impressivly loud chainsaw-like sound when I pedalled. The pedals also vibrated, which was actually quite pleasant. I felt like I was getting a foot massage on the way to work. Work was work. When I biked home, the chain guard became quite unruly and finally exploded off of the bike, doing its best to stab a street kid in the foot as it went out in a blaze of evil junkyard bike glory. I then managed to get bike chain grease all over my hands, and had to wipe them on the only piece of paper in my purse. It happened to be my proof of enrolment request form that I still had not managed to get through Student Central. No matter, that form wasn't going to see its destination for several days anyway.
That evening, I met up with some of my friends and discovered that Wednesday had been a particularly awful day for most people. This is a public service announcement. Watch out for Wednesdays.
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