Well, well, well. It always comes as a surprise when you wake up in the morning, take a look outside and notice that in a somewhat mystical way 20cm of snow has appeared on the ground, and more is falling down from the sky. This was on sunday.
Sadly, sunday also happened to be a day when my brother went to work at 5:30 AM and the rest of my family left to a Christmas sale or something. Guess who was left to shovel the snow off our parking lot/front yard. Yes. Me. And only because my cycling practise would start at 11, so I'd have to leave at 10.
My sadistic coach made us walk, or, more accurately, wade in the now wet and heavy snow. In a forest. And a partially frozen swamp. Not to mention that we did this for 4.5 hours. If two of my friends wouldn't have been there, I'd have left. But I ended having a reasonably good time, despite the nasty training.
Ha ha ha. Even though there's one episode left, I know who won the amazing race season 7. I checked it from the internet. And decided to watch the final peisode next sunday after all. Ok, this might be cheating, but If a certain team would have won there'd be no way I'd watch them win. They didn't. Ha.
A-hem. Note to all men above the age of thirty: If you see me walking somewhere, (ok, you wouldn't recongize me, but this is a universal RULE) and for some weird reason you would want to whistle, two things:
1. DON'T. Way tacky. Unless I'm on a very good mood, and most likely even then, I'll just show you the finger.
2. If you do whistle, and please don't, it's tacky, at least know how to whistle. For crying out loud, this should be an obvious point!!! But apparently it isn't. How dumb can you get? Wait. I don't want to know
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