Confirmed: I have completely lost my mind

So for some time now, it’s been the case that every time I see the word “tornado” in print, my mind substitutes the word “tomato,” as in “Entire town demolished by tomatoes!” or “Killer tomatoes headed our way!” This is an odd quirk, but since I have no other oddities or whims or flaws in my character to speak of, as any of my friends will attest to, I just deal with it. Tomato, tornado, whatever.

However, my “I have a brain tumor” theories sprung to mind just the other day when I was checking out the weather online, and the report kept warning about “11-23 mph winds”, mentioning this several times. And every time I saw this, my immediate thought was this: “hmm, they probably need a different cassette, at least a 12-25, depending on what rides or races they’re doing, since an 11-23 is really not enough.” Every time.

Then last night I went with my mom to see Cirque du Soleil’s latest (and as an aside I am happy to note that this time we were NOT sitting in the “raised by wolves” section, so I did not have to finally lean over and shush someone when he kept drunkenly going on and on - LOUDLY - during one act about how “the little people, the midgets, they have a low center of gravity and really short limbs so that’s why they can balance like that, yes, the little people and their low center of gravity” etc.), and there was an act with a guy on a unicycle doing all sorts of amazing things. Spinning around, taking his partner and twirling her around his head while he’s spinning around, and so on. And again, my first thought? “Hmm, really looks like he could use some air in that tire. I wonder if that uses a Schrader or Presta valve? Yep, tire looks really low.”

No further commentary necessary on that.

On another note, I had a sports-related dream last night whereby in the first part of it, I was running a marathon – whichever marathon has you looking for chalk markings to indicate the course, and going up and down subway stairs – and somehow, I was running it while wearing my Ugg clogs. Now, there was one odd thing about this dream: that I was running at a very fast clip, jauntily even, Uggs notwithstanding. And one not odd thing: that I had the thought of oh, these don’t feel bad, actually, so I’ll just keep going in them until I need to stop. Gee, where have we heard that before?

Then the second part of this dream was a bit horrifying – as Sálome was stolen right out from under my watchful eyes! Yes, I had stopped to help someone trying to move gates/fencing after some race, and we wound up right by Sálome, when gatemover/faux volunteer executed a blocking maneuver and some little punk kid absconded with my bike. Quélle horror! Luckily, in my dream as I was yelling “Stop him! He stole Sálome!”, someone did stop the little bastard and I think he was then stoned to death or something, as was his due. But the message here was as clear as a bell and I will duly take heed – in the future, should I ever come across someone who asks me for help in moving something after a race, I shall preemptively and without hesitation beat that person with a cudgel. Oh, I know that sounds a bit harsh, but seriously, what choice do I have?