I was doing 100mph easy. I could tell because my face was flapping like an old lady yelling at a fan. I made it all the way from Ogden to Provo in less than 15 minutes (should take an hour fifteen by van). You don't need hard lumpy legs to be a bike champ, you just need to know all the hills. It's a little known fact that a downhill path exists to and from any two points in the universe. Google it. Anyway, that's what I do. My life is all downhill. That's how I roll.
Speaking of which, I am really frustrated that so few people are able to figure out the relatively simple process of floating on a breeze. Tried to teach a few more people last night. It's not rocket science, all you gotta do is lean backwards or or if you prefer, forwards, giving your body the perfect feather shape, then just let the air do the rest. Try it, just lean, keep leaning until your feet obey the laws of physics and follow the arch created by your leaning body, unsticking them from the ground. Once that happens it's just a matter of maintaining your featherness. If you really can't seem to catch the wind, you can always flap your legs a little, you just gotta make sure to stay loose like a feather or an old thin sock. I don't know, maybe I was just some sort of miracle baby, because it's second nature for me. I've done it like this all my life.
Anyway, by the time I arrived with my bags of money at the dorms in Provo for the BYU/MySpace summer camp all the good rooms had been snatched up by douchebags. I wasn't about to sleep in a slimy sleeping bag on the floor when I paid 400 bucks especially since the place was dry rot city. In fact it was so dry rotten that when the little indian girl I was babysitting climbed the only two poles that remained of the old ten story yelling tower and she tried to do her shimmy indian girl dance at the top with one foot on one pole and one on the other, the whole thing wobbled like two exhausted boners, causing her to loose her balance and crash right through three stories of dry rotted decks below. Luckily the wood was so bad, almost like an old mans shattery bones, that it provided enough cushion to prevent serious injury. She laughed about it even though she had a three foot long shard of wood sticking through her leg meat.
While I was out, Spanky took the liberty of hiding my all my money under the moldy carpet, I suspect he may have taken some. Why else would he just give me his cologne collection? I don't even wear cologne. Maybe I stink. I shouldn't rush to judgment.
The BYU campus looks much better with all the new carnival rides. I still hate Provo, I seriously felt like barfing the whole time.
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