Get Yer Motor Runnin'

Not that I want to put the old man in traction, but my sisters and I bought him the most appropriate retirement gift for our dad.

If you know him at all, he's always dreamed of having a motorcycle. He has books, toys, mugs, shirts, all kinds of shit with motorcycles on them, despite the fact that he's never owned one.

Hold on there, cowboy. We didn't get him a scoot. Do I look like I'm made out of money? No, we got him the next best thing: motorcycle riding lessons at his local community college (a three-day course). He is incredibly excited.

When this was in the planning stages, I had to ask when a good time would be. My parents fill their days quickly. Before I received my present (the trip), I knew there wasn't going to be a fuss made about my f-word donut-year birthday because Mum suggested the weekend of my birthday.

Now, she mentioned that she and Dad will come up the evening of my birthday. Too late, chumps! I'm going drinking with friends.

On a side note, I found out there are about 125 calories in a whiskey sour. I wish I knew that before I went balls-out at the gym and sprained my fricking ankle three weeks ago. It's still really sore.

My writing sucks these days, eh? Let's blame the Tylenol and lack of sleep, okay?