Hot Pink Bootie Shorts and The Final Neon Poem!

We're just about to leave for Windsor and the 2014 MS Bike Tour. The bike tour starts tomorrow morning, we're super excited, and everyone's on their way here!

One last fundraising challenge. I'm at $675 dollars raised as of 3:30pm Friday afternoon. Here's the deal:

If I raise $1,000 by 8am tomorrow morning, Saturday, July 26th, 2014, I will wear these hot-pink bootie shorts:

(Me, looking nervous.)

overtop of my bike shorts (let's keep this PG-13) with promises (threats?) of photo evidence to come. If you want to help the MS Society and/or make a man ride in ridiculous shorts, click here to sponsor me.

Update: Holy Smokes! I'm already at $800 as of 3:34pm. The threat of bootie-shorts must be some sort of fundraising secret weapon? Also, someone left the comment: "Pink undies gogogo!" Indeed.

And now, for the final poem of the Neon Poetry Project:

With apologies to Christmas ...

Twas the night before the bike tour

'Twas the night before the bike tour, when all through the Super 8

All the creatures were merry and expectation great;

Neon stockings were all laid out with care,

In hopes that St. Neon-olus soon would be there;

The cyclists were nestled all snug in their beds;

While visions of Wolfville danced in their heads;

And Beth in her 'kerchief, and I in my helmet,

Had just settled our brains, because sleep is our element,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a miniature bike rack and eight tiny cycling-deer,

"Now, Troy! now, James! now Jill and Jill again!

On, Helen! on, Andy! on, Greg and Chrystiane!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Neon Riders away! bike away! cycle away all!"

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

They meet with an obstacle, Mount Gaspereau to the sky;

So up to Acadia the coursers they flew

With the bottle full of Gatorade, and St. Neon-olus too—

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the mountain we rose;

We sprang to our cycles, we heard the whistle,

And away we all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere we rode to the side—

“Happy Bike Tour to all, and to all, a good ride!”