Editorial: Sober Diary


Based on the hungover mishaps that was last weekend, this past weekend I decided to stay relatively sober. After one Tennessee Honey whisky sour classily sipped over the span of several hours at the Brooklyn, I informed my friends that I will be going to bed early like a good girl.
I parted ways with my friends and housemates and headed out to bike home. On the way to my bike, I took a slight detour when I bought an Oktoberfest sausage from Hot Dog Scott and shared it with a homeless man. Satisfied by the midnight sausage and my moralizing kindness to the homeless man, I arrived at the shady nook where my bike was locked up.
Was! My bike was no longer there! The bike lock, on the other hand, was still there, just cut in half by an obviously professional tool. My bike was officially stolen.
This is maddening. Seriously, I don’t ever lock my bike when I’m at school or when I’m at home – I just hook the lock in a loop so it looks like it’s locked, and I don’t have to bring a key – so that’s like 99% of the time I don’t lock my bike, and my bike’s never stolen when it’s not locked. The one time I lock it as a good citizen would do, it gets stolen! There’s another bike just standing there without a lock a meter away in the same shady nook, and you just had to go for the one that’s locked. If you like a proper challenge, enroll in EngPhys or something; don’t just go and cut locks and leave them in a nook while you take the bike! Locks aren’t even biodegradable!
This is so not fair. I mean, that bike has tremendous sentimental value and economic value to me, more than it does to you. In fact, I promise you that my bike is the shittiest bike you can find around the student ghetto. When you pedal, the back wheel moans like a cow being sensually screwed from behind. Even then, I loved that bike ever since my dad got it for me from a suburban dumpster in Toronto. It took him a lot of effort to get that bike for me in a totally probably legal way, so fuck you for stealing that from me.
Nonetheless, I promised myself to go to bed early like a good little boy would, so I walked half-an-hour by foot on nothing but my socks and shoes…and other pieces of clothing, and arrived at my house which is basically on West Campus. That’s when I realized my keys were in my room. I was outside my room. My housemates were still at the Brooklyn. Fuck.
So there I was, sitting on my front porch, looking up at the stars, and wondering what the fuck is wrong with humanity. Uninformed mediocre people are voting for evil people to run the country, while stupid incompetent fuckers are stealing other people’s bikes, while a highly intelligent university student like myself is locked outside my own house at 2am due to the stupidity of myself, three hours past my planned bedtime. Life sucks. I’d rather be drunk.