The moment had arose for me to express my feelings to a friend of mine named Chris S. "S" for scumbag.Wednesday, blog day? Do I dare try and keep to this regimen? Either way, it's midnight, Wednesday morning, and I would like to share an excerpt from my life.

          Let me explain.

I had planned a month in advance for a 2 days and 2 nights mountain bike camping trip for my husbands birthday at Hurkey Creek Park which is near Idyllwild, CA. I invited our closest friends from back in the day and fresh company who have become honest friends of ours throughout the years. They came from Nevada, L.A, and the rest from San Diego...except one. Except one who came the day after everyone had packed up, and left separate ways.

Chris S's personality, remember "S" is for scumbag, is random, wait's last minute, and is quite lovingly weird if I might say. I can't help but laugh at times at how weird and sporadic his personality is which comes out naturally. In our crew, we do tend to pull on each others chain and maybe throw in a little tit for tat here and there. This time, Chris S's sporadic action was my moment to say something.

Location: Strava Cycling
What: A map of Chris S's cycling route at Hurkey Creek which was  documented a day after we had already left. There is a box below this map where viewers could push a button that says "Kudos" or comment on the event. The "kudos" button is similiar to the "like" button on facebook. The crew decides to comment. This is the transcript as follows. Some information has been deleted to protect the identity of others.

Scott: wtf?
Yogi: Scumbag Chris strikes again *badum doosh* <--that be my drum solo right there.
Kevin: LAME
Eric: can I give negative kudos?
Yogi: I relayed the story of epic scumbaggery to the developer team at Strava in hopes they would create an HTML code to develop a "Boo-dos" button. Their letters flowed in to console me on the matter. How did I ever cross paths with a young man who possessed a heart made of ice and seasoned by the Trinidad Moruga Scorpion pepper? I was befuddled and just left the issue on the screen of my laptop where the map of Hurkey Creek burned through. A cycling Strava map documented the day after everyone else had left camp. I got in my car quickly to pick up groceries. I was hoping my chore would help suppress the repulsion toward my "friend" that was beginning to build up. The first item I always pick up are bananas. I made my way to the kiosk, pushing my rickety cart across the linoleum floor. I am caught off guard by the sight afoot and stopped in my tracks with a firm grip on my cart that the skin on my palm filled the crevices of the store's engraved name on the plastic push bar. The cart groaned under my care. In front of me was the banana kiosk. Its black recycled paper and molded pulp of escalating stairs, were bare except for the lonesome, huddled bruised banana. Sadness enveloped me once again. I couldn't help but reflect on life. As humans, we are somewhat similar to the banana. When they're just starting out, their exteriors are smooth and taut. As we age, just like an expired banana, we wrinkle and adorn flecks of brown spots all over our body. For a second, as I stood there, face getting warm, eyes beginning to water, I was worried about aging. But then... a small smile crept on my face. The vision of Eric by my side, smiling his corner smile, set my mind at ease. The idea of aging is not frightening, the idea of being alone is. So I did the only best thing I could do at that moment. I grabbed a green apple in the next kiosk and gently placed it next to the cowering banana. I could almost sense the sigh of relief from the banana as he had a friend to be with him in his last hours. So you see dear Chris, karma is just waiting around the corner to tap you on the shoulder...I'm not so sure I will be there at your last hours if you keep being a schizoid. Good day sir. Good. Day.