Ghosts in the Night
So yeah, throwing snowballs at random dudes hanging out with their pickups and drinking beer was quite funny. I was the last one to go by and I through a flower—made me fell like Ralph Wiggum. It went about two feet.
We ended up on North Ave. Someone mentioned the graveyard. Good idea. Graveyard it is. We cruised around the boneyard for awhile. When we stopped to regroup (for the 23rd time that night) the game “Ghosts in the Graveyard” was mentioned. Hey, we’re in a graveyard, why not?
Here’s how to play (correct me if I’m wrong): One person is the ghost catcher and everyone else has to run around making their best ghost noise. When the ghost catcher tags you, you start hunting ghosts. I found a hole in the ground and sat it in doing a sort of bebop ghost noise. It was one of those times that I wish I had a Theremin with me.
RADAR[theory], what did I forget?
Filed Under: Crossbloging + Graveyards
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S.R. Wild vs. RADAR[theory]: Crossbloging
While sippin’ suds from tall cans (so big that they make you feel like a little kid) at the local watering hole, RADAR[theory] and I came up with an idea: crossbloging. If one scatterbrain can recall half of what happened, the combined power of two scatterbrains should be able to recall it all—in theory. I’m sure how this is going to work, but I’ll give it a shot.
After Secret (Bike) Movie Night, there was a lot of peddling. Apparently there’s a fun ride that meets in front of the Radio Bean every Tuesday night. I rode around with a bunch of other bikers through the Old North End, UVM, and then my favorite part: bombing Main St. I peddled as fast as my little legs would go down the hill. Every time I approached an intersection the light would turn green moments before I thought about slowing down. I finally stopped at the waterfront, and someone offered me a PBR. Thank you very much.
We round around town a bit and eventually headed north on the bike path. Somehow I ended up in front. “Uh, just to let you know, I have bad night vision and I’ve never been here before.”
Will was riding behind me with his light on strobe, so I decided to break dance with my arms while I peddled with my legs. “You’re going to die,” he said. But I didn’t.
We found some snow—actually, it was just ice shavings from the skating rink—and had a good ol’ snowball fight. Yes, a snowball fight in July.