bikers of another kind
Ew. Mercer Island is Hidie! Everywhere I go I see the saggy thigh skin of some walking/rotting eighty-nine year old grandma ( or grandpa for that matter) in spandex bike shorts huffing and puffing there way up every incline. They congregate like wrinkled asians, sporting there death palors like mercer island highschool girls sport fake tans. Everytime I go to Tullys, wich is almost everyday lately ( I know, fuck establishment coffee houses blahfuckingblah...but I work on Mercer Island now, people. Everything is the same and its either tullys of starbucks, so fuck off) Every chair is craddling the gargantuian ass of some slothlike grandpa, and they are all talking about there twenty person "ride" through northern california, or how cute mary-anne so and so's riding outfit is, and they all walk like hunch backs from stooping over there handle bars all day long. And they sometimes almost mow me down as Im walking to the bus stop. Once, one of them (an older lady with purplish silver hair and bow legs and varicose vains so vicious they looked like they had been painted on with the same blue eyeliner she used to rim her eyes) crashed into a teenage boy on a skateboard and I have to admit I launched into utter hysterics, laughing till I almost fell over myself. It was hysterical!!! What is NOT hysterical is the way these oldies think that they can take over the sidewalks and every sqaure inch of floor space inside every public place on the island. What is NOT hysterical is the fact that I am late to work almost every morning because the bus is stalled by some decrepid raisin of an old man is trying to hoist his bike off of the rack at the front of the bus. It IS NOT cute. Stop trying to be healthy ok. Stop.