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| The modern mullet. Staring thoughtfully off into the distance is not included. |
Let me regale you in a story, a history if you will. This, is the history of my mullet.
Now, friends shouldn't let friends get mullets. I am the perfect example of how having no friends has let me slip through the cracks of our system of self policing. I will admit that at every turn on my quest for a mullet, someone did oppose me. Firstly the guys at work, secondly my housemates, thirdly, karma. Because at uni no one really blinks twice at anything - if someone showed up wearing a Superman costume, it would just be, like, whatever, I'm going to skip this lecture so I can drink another coffee and chat to my hipster friends.
"Hey did you see that guy with the mullet?"
"Nah, I was too busy procrastinating."
"Yeah I've got a 2,000 word essay due at 9am tomorrow, I think I'll start it later tonight when everyone is asleep so I can't use the coffee machine. And I have nothing to do."
"Good idea."
That's how uni works. Especially for arts students. Hahaha, arts.
But I digress.
So my mullet. It brought me horrible karma. Horrible, horrible karma! I came up with the idea on Thursday night after work. As I woke up on Friday morning and heard rain and saw how wet it was, it became apparent that Fatbuster would have to be called off. This may appear to be a nothing but a coincidence. It might appear that nature has no link to my future hair style, but I assure you that that is not the case.
Having the spare time of a retiree due to not sitting at the Corner Cafe drinking my Chai Latte's - they're not homosexual, they're tasty and lack caffeine - I elevate my heart rate enough during my rides to not have to do it while sitting in the cafe - I was able to give myself a haircut.
I've made a handful of pretty big mistakes in my life, Friday morning has, in my books, been elevated into this group.
Giving yourself a mullet is much harder than just shaving your head. Without completing an apprenticeship in hairdressing, I wouldn't even know what actually constitutes a business in the front, party in the back modern mullet. I just shaved the sides and top of my head. And removed my back neckbeard.
It took a while to achieve something I considered to be a mullet. Shaving the back of your head in a particular shape is not easy by any stretch of the imagination without two mirrors, I soldiered on any why. Nothing was going to prevent me from this. I've never had one, ever. You're supposed to experiment in your teens to discover who you are and where you fit in the world. I did a lot of experimenting with shampoo bottles and toilet paper rolls, not haircuts.
I had something resembling a mullet. And it was time to show the world I meant business. Rode to uni and showed up an hour early for my prac. Hrumph. The rest of the day went better than expected.
Saturday was as normal as a Saturday can be. Completed a two hour ride with Tom. We did something different, a lap of Akuna then over Roseville Bridge and then to work. We managed to catch EVERY SINGLE TRAFFIC LIGHT along Forest Way. EVERY SINGLE LIGHT. Then the Kangaroo Valley ride was cancelled due to a lack of interest. The rest of the day was as expected.
Sunday I was woken by rain early in the morning and wondered what affect that would have on racing at West Head. I went back to sleep and finally when I woke up at 630, I couldn't decided if I should race or not. It was really wet, and I had cleaned my bike Saturday afternoon. Decided that it might rain again. So didn't ride.
Later on, in the afternoon sometime my house mates were in a state. I investigated and turns out that the landlord (my house mates mum) had decided that we were to vacate the house today or tomorrow. What?
We were in a state! Over the next few hours and by Monday afternoon the situation evolved from, "What? Hahaha, seriously?" to "Fuck! Seriously?!" I was told it would be a week, we had until Sunday to move on. I was in a state. I mentally prepared myself for the effort of packing all my stuff and renting a ute and spending an entire day moving my shit. Fuck. All this and a bond to pay. Fuck!
I had a place to look at in North Epping on Tuesday before uni. I was meant to be there by 1030 as I had uni at 11. But I procrastinated too much and ended up smashing myself on the commuter bike to get there at 1050. The place was pretty shit. It was an Asian family with a 4 month old baby. What? No thanks!
So I smashed myself to get back to uni and arrived at 1110, maybe even 1111 I wasn't watching the clock close enough.
Late on Tuesday in a tute I was informed that our Broken Hill field trip was moved back two days ending on Sunday 25th of September. Uni games road race is on Monday at 9am! How the fuck am I going to travel 13hrs from Broken Hill to the Gold Coast and be in any shape to race? I spoke to the lecturer but he really didn't give a fuck so I was pooped to say the least. Uni games? But I love uni games! I had to make the call right then, because I needed to make the $360 payment to secure my position in the next hour. I was the team captain! There was a team this year! FUCK!
The up side is I save $1200. But you know, I'd rather spend the money and compete!
While all of things things seem to be separate and completely unrelated. I ASSURE you beyond all belief that this is all related to my mullet.
And rest assured, this is ONLY THE BEGINNING as this story is still DEVELOPING...
END OF PART 1
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