For me every day is full of Bradism, and you hear about it all the time. But what if I was less unique. What if other people's lives had Bradism too? What if people were more like me? People like...
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..The Exercise Bike Repairman
I woke up this morning to U2's Beautiful Day and I was kind of optimistic for just this brief moment. I thought maybe it might be a sign that I wasn't in for another Tuesday like every other Tuesday. One where my two engineering degrees would lead me to more challenges than "should I ask them if I can use their toilet? Or will I get this flywheel replaced in time to make it to Subway and use the bathroom there?"
The second place I visited today was the weirdest; it was a bike that was only two weeks old so I knew that it probably wouldn't smell of month-old fat housewife sweat. I mean, it might have fat housewife sweat on it but at least it would be fresh. When I got there this guy with his arm in a cast came to the door shirtless and I could hear Big Country playing! And it wasn't In A Big Country either, it was Harvest Home! I didn't realise Australians even knew they had more than one single.
This guy was pretty antsy about his new bike having a broken pedal after two weeks, but he went quieter when I told him he reverse-threaded it. No idea what someone in an arm cast can do with an exercise bike anyway. After that it didn't take long, I had it fixed before he got up to Porrohman. Then I went to Subway and got a turkey, olives and jalapenos on a foot long honey oat.
I expect the same kind of jobs when I go to little duplex estates in the western suburbs: tiny plots of grass to mow; most of the time spent edging; ignore the "herb" garden. I felt my suspicions wouldn't be far off as I walked up to a door today, hearing the muffled rap of Lil Jon and the Eastside Boyz coming from the other side. Upon it being opened, however, things changed. First thing I noticed was the sweatiest dude I have ever seen wearing tight as bike shorts and a plastic garbage bag around his arm. The second thing I noticed was Lil Jon was rapping over Dire Straits.
However, I'm not one to judge and the garden was kind of nice to work in. He tried to talk me down on price (why do people always do this?) and then after his impotent bartering came ineffective he agreed anyway and I started trimming a hedge while Ice Cube rapped over the main riff of King Missile's Detachable Penis. Then some rapper I don't think I know started yet another rap about weed over an electrified version of the Legend of Zelda theme. Despite all this kind of music there wasn't even an ashtray around the back porch let alone any plants. Unfortunate, he might have had something to barter with.
Work was messed today. I had planned to go to the gym after but by the time I got out of the summary summary meeting (yes, my team has so many summary meetings that we now need a summary summary meeting) it was late and I couldn't be arsed. When does Daylight Savings end? I dunno. While my dinner microwaved I figured I had enough time to do some chin ups in the shed. On my way out I saw over the fence into the loud-music-neighbours kitchen and saw the most ironic thing: one of them locked in an ongoing struggle to find the strength to pull the lid off their bucket of protein powder. The fact he had an arm cast and was trying to do it one handed made it even more amusing. Also, I think he was going to mix it with milk.
For reference, you should mix WPI with water, not milk. The complex protein in the milk makes your body absorb the concentrated protein in the powder less efficiently meaning you get less protein in the crucial recovery window, thus less gains.