Looking like a drowned rat

Yesterday afternoon as I was walking out of class I came through the glass doors to be greeted by a downpour of rain. Fast, furious and very cold rain. Having ridden Flo Jo (the fastest baby blue bike a white woman with a black womans soul can ride) I knew I had to release the inner Lance and book it home. As I was tearing through the quad I saw my stalkee leaving the library. I check my watch and note the time. No time to follow, cold cold rain makes hip very angry. I did however give him some credit back from missing class this week. At least he was at the library right?
Then I pull through the parking lot and am quick to find that I have little to no brakes. The ride was just raised to a higher level on the Xbox. I do the Tokyo Kick Slide around the corner to the stop light and look up under my hoodie to see a bike I recognize. Wait a second. That's not my stalkee. There is no way in the 3 seconds that I saw him at the library that he has unlocked his bike and beat me to the light....this is someone totally different. Then something other then the torrential downpour hits me. I've been stalking two completely different men. I guess I'll retract my previous statement about being really good at this.

whoops

By the time I got to the house my Marmot rain jacket had kept my back and chest dry, but every other inch of my body was soaked. I was resembeling a wet shaking puppy at the pound. The dog was having a thunderstorm panic attack, and I was still laughing about my poor stalking abilities as I crawled into a pair of old sweat pants.

I spent the rest of the night looking over radiographic positioning, and trying to convince Sativa that she did not have to sit on my lap to protect me from the storm.

I guess I'll concentrate on my studies and leave the stalking to Dog the Bounty Hunter