You can understand why I didn't specify that, can't you?
And I've realized the root of my bike troubles. The problem lies entirely with my parents. I blame my possessed exercise equipment totally on them. Because really, what do you expect when you name your daughter "Carrie Ann"? It could be worse, I guess. I could be Carol Anne instead.
I'm thankful for that, but I still don't have a choice. My name has a history that pretty much predisposes me to have Major Issues. Think about it. For me, Prom was an automatic wash.
And then there's the music. "Carrie" by Europe is pretty much enough to drive any sane person to ranting about zombie penguins.
What that video really needs is some dancing ninjas.
So thanks, Mom and Dad, for dooming me to a future full of possessed exercise equipment and bad prom jokes. And to all of you wandering spirits tempted to infest my Thighmaster, I give you this: