Bad Guys

So the Nampa Police said today that they are looking for this guy…

Apparently he groped some girls on the gb in Nampa. I know, that’s what I thought – they have a gb in Nampa? That’s, um, unexpected. It does sound like somewhere someone might get assaulted though.

Anyway, the second thing that came to mind is that it is obviously a fixie guy. Look, he has the fixie guy military style hat (even though he is probably anti-military), the round glasses – only fixie guy rocks those, and a shirt with a funky fixie style collar. The Nampa PD better start stopping everyone with spoke cards to get this guy.

Speaking of bad guys, I borrowed my neighbors portable generator a week or so ago. When I went to give it back I noticed that there was a puddle of oil underneath it. The first thing I thought was ‘shit, I broke it!’ The next thing I thought was that maybe if I wiped it off a little he wouldn’t notice? Then I thought maybe I should put some of that goop in there the stops oil leaks for a while. A few thoughts later I finally came up with this gem – tell the truth.

Ugh, I am a bit disgusted with myself that it took me like 5 ideas before I came up with the most obvious and correct one. You might be a loser if. Damn it. Apparently I have an affliction. I am a bad guy. I will have to work on that.

So I took it back. He asked me how it worked. I said ‘great, but I noticed that it leaked some oil on the garage floor’. He said ‘Oh yeah, I should have told you about that’…

Ghetto in Our Midst

You know that saying about teaching a man to fish? The one where if you give him a fish he eats for a night, if you teach him to fish he has food for a lifetime – or something like that. Yeah, well that one doesn’t work for wives. If you show her how to do it herself you are not setting her up for a lifetime of self sufficiency, you are illustrating that you are capable of doing it for her – and therefore will be expected to from then on. I just wanted you to know that.

You know what else? Garden City is like a training ride. They are the same in that when I am there I am always at least moderately uncomfortable. Garden City is like a small piece of Spokane smack in the middle of Boise. It is the ghetto in our midst.

There is the adult shop. That makes me feel funny. Not that I am anti-adult shop or anything, it’s just the thought of going in there and seeing someone you know. Like your neighbor, or your teacher, or your pastor, or your parents. It makes me uncomfortable to even drive past, what if you see their car in the parking lot when you go past? Some things I really just don’t want to know.

Then there is Hotties. Home of the bikini barista. Backed up with construction guy trucks every time I go past. You know the coffee has to suck. The location is terrible. People actually go out of their way to ogle for a minute while they get coffee. You know some moron orders a few extra drinks so he can sit there bug eyed hoping for a wardrobe malfunction. Who the hell does that? It makes me feel dirty for the schleps that work there.

The tattoo parlors are nice too. I guess that it was inevitable. There were so many people down there sticking needles in bodies some of them were bound to go pro. Did you hear about the rapist the other day that made his victim break out the windows at one of the tattoo parlors? What are you going to steal from a tattoo parlor? Really. Hey police, I am guessing the guy you are after has a really bad tattoo on his left arm by now.

There is the urban clothing shop. That’s where you get those pants that hang down over your ass. And those cool black and white ‘TapOut’ hats. Because nothing says badass like a skinny guy that can’t walk because his pants are belted tightly around his thighs.

Not far away is the place where you take your 4-wheel drive to jack it up to ridiculous heights while leaving the axel 10 inches off the ground. Not much good for real 4-wheeling, but it does give you a better view when you go to Hotties.

I must not forget the smoke and alcohol shops. Yes shopS. Two in a mile. Garden City is all about easy access to smokes and beers. Swing in for some sustenance Garden City folk. Get the 32 ounce beer, it is at least 3 or 4 blocks back to your trailer.

It’s kind of funny that the average cost of recreational vehicles at the numerous Garden City rv sales facilities is higher than the average cost of a home in Garden City. I guess most RV’s do probably have more features. Not to mention the rv's are mobile, while the homes are just mobile in name really.

The Garden City homes used to have more features, but they sold them at one of the many pawn shops.

What Garden City really needs is a strip bar. A full on nudie strip bar. That would complete the picture. If I ever win the lottery I will buy me some politicians to get the laws changed – then I will open a strip bar in Garden City. A trashy one. Then Garden City would be like interval training. Completely uncomfortable.

Yup, Garden City. Today’s Wednesday’s Tool.

Sand In Me Cracks

Damn it May in Motion! Stop killing cyclists! For those of you keeping score, that’s May in Motion 2, the Swine Flu 0.

Of course you weren’t keeping score. Probably didn’t even know two cyclists were killed in Boise last week, and that one was killed by a Valley Ride van. That’s how it is here, cycling just isn’t news unless an American is punking Frenchies (did I write that out loud?) in their home event – or unless maybe someone uses a bike to escape after a crime, that might be news worthy.

So yeah, May in Motion. Encouraging people to use alternative transportation, and then running them down with government subsidized vans. That might deserve some reporting, but what with the pandemic and all its tough to squeeze that in. I understand, the Swine flu has made 10’s of people sick in Idaho, and killed – well, no one. And actually I don’t think it is 10’s, probably more like 10. Ten runny noses and upset stomachs.

I heard that in Ohio they are spending $44,000 a day on the swine flu pandemic. So far in the US there have been 3 swine flu deaths. I am guessing that there have been a few more cyclist/pedestrian deaths in that same time frame. Am also guessing that Ohio (and the US) are spending something less that $44,000 a day to keep cyclists safe. I could be wrong, just guessing. Anyhow, I understand. It is hard to get behind a guy in spandex. Really. It is.

Did you know Ohio is the friendliest state? Yeah, it’s the only state that says ‘hi’ in the middle. My son taught me that. You can use it if you want. You know you will.

So I protested May in Motion by not riding my bike over the weekend. Well, not riding my bike very much over the weekend. Well I didn’t ride my bike at all on Sunday. Take that May in Motion. I drove my truck to work today as well. By myself. Without cargo. How does that feel?

I took my son camping this weekend instead of riding a bunch. We went to the Bruneau sand dunes. My son loved it. My dogs loved it. Me? Not so much.

I will be picking sand out of all me cracks for the next week. You would think I rolled naked in the stuff. I didn’t even take off my shoes. I didn’t even sit down. I still have sand in all me cracks.

Half Empty My Ass

I am a pessimist. That’s why I am so confused. See, everything is supposed to be half empty to me, but I have got this messenger bag I use for commuting – the damn thing is always full. Half empty my ass. Who made that up?

So when my wife gave it to me I thought it was the biggest messenger bag on Earth. I was wrong, they do make one that is a little larger. Mine is only the second largest messenger bag on Earth. I could keep a chicken in there if I wanted to. No, I could put two chickens in there. And some eggs. Four chickens if they were those little bantam things. That would be fun – riding with four chickens in a bag. I think they do that in southeast Asia.

Anyway my bag is huge. Hee hee. I thought it was waaaayyyy too big when I got it, but now it is almost always full. I may need a bigger one. Yesterday I was looking for something in the bag. I forget what I was looking for, but this is what I found…

-2 heart rate monitor chest straps. No heart rate monitors.

-3 CO2 cartridges, CO2 inflator, bicycle tube, two old fashioned glue patches (no glue), and instructions for said patches (in German). I drove my truck to work yesterday.

- Arm warmers and knee warmers (for cycling). Did I mention that I drove my truck to work yesterday?

- 1 iPod arm strappy thingy, iPod charging chord, and a little baggy with extra ear bud parts for my sweet new ear buds. No iPod, or sweet new ear buds.

- A receipt for some banana’s I bought at M&W like two weeks ago.

-Download cable for my GPS unit. No GPS unit.

-ATM receipt, HOA bill, shopping list – all from February.

- 3 bookmarks. In case, you know, I want to stop and read three books at once.

- 11 safety pins. In case I need to pin on a race number for a spontaneous gb race.

- 2 tubes of chapstick. Don’t want to be caught out like Napolean!

- 1 spoke magnet.

- 2 Coke bottle caps.

- 1 comb.

- 1 flash drive.

- 2 pairs of sunglasses.

- 1 cell phone with dead battery. No recharger.

I don’t know why the stupid thing is always full…

Speaking of full, I have had enough of May in Motion. Anyone else notice that May in Motion seems to be killing cyclists. Getting hit by the ValleyRide van, very much below average and ironic at the same time.

Missed Connection

You – helmetless, shirtless, wheelie riding fixie hipster. Me – Spandex clad biker rolling with an enormous commuter bag on a super sweet commuter bike. You were rocking a wheelie down the centerline of the gb bronco billy style. One hand on the bars, one thrown to the side as if either for balance or to give me a high five. I was admiring scantily clad coeds when I noticed you at the last minute.

I deeply regret missing the opportunity to slap you a fiver. While it is fairly common to see a fixie hipster jamming the gb it is not every day you see one rocking a wheelie. Rarer still is having the opportunity to high five one while he is doing it. Since that moment I have been feeling the weight of an opportunity lost.

I don’t really want to meet you. I just want to give you a high five while you are riding a wheelie in the middle of the gb. Let’s meet on the gb near the Julia Davis band shell – just like last time. Except this time I will be ready. When you do the wheelie and put your hand out, I will go ‘no hands’ and slap you five with one hand and do a ‘rock on’ symbol with the other hand. I realize that it would be coolest if I too did a bronco billy wheelie, but I don’t have those kind of skills. I have been shifting gears and riding up hills when I should have been practicing wheelies.

I realize this may be dangerous, but I am willing to take the risk for this once in a lifetime opportunity. Besides, I think your hipster top tube pad will protect you from harm with its aura of coolness. Who needs a stinking helmet.

If this works, could you please stop and give me a few dollars? I will need it to buy Butamus, my friend and co-worker, a beer. This missed connection was his idea you see.

Can’t wait to see you again. This is going to be so cool.

Sincerely,
The Angry Cyclist

A Tube of Biscuits

I am pretty sure it is going to stick this time. After a long chilly, breezy, wet spring thingy I am almost positive that good weather is here to stay. At least until tomorrow.

But no, really, I think we are golden this time. You see, today was the first time this year that I tried to use ‘It’s too warm’ as an excuse not to ride my bike to work. Every morning I have this litany of excuses I have to overcome before I get on my bike and pedal to work.

It’s too cold. It’s too wet. It’s too windy. It’s too dark. I’m running too late. It’s kind of early to ride. I am too tired. I rode too hard yesterday. I need to save my legs for tomorrow. I have too much stuff to take with me. I have errands I need to run. It’s too bright. I have a flat tire. I might get a flat tire and be late. My bike clothes are dirty. My helmet smells bad. There are too many people on the gb. My bike is making a funny sound. My other bike is making a funny sound too. Yup, the third one – funny sound. My water bottles are dirty. And today, today it is too warm.

I know most people think that 69 is a special number, and well, it is. But in bike commuting 59 is my magic number. 59 is just a little too cold, and also just a little too warm. When it is 59 you can use both the ‘it’s too hot’ and the ‘it’s too cold’ excuses. Today is the first day I have had to overcome both excuses. That’s how I know summer is here.

I also know it’s summer because I saw my first tube top yesterday. I hate tube tops. I know that some among us might enjoy the tube tops propensity for malfunction, and even wax about the virtues of easy access. But not me. Someone told me the other day about a piece of clothing which reminded them of one of those tubes of biscuits. I can’t remember who or what it was in reference to. Actually I think it was New Guy. Were we talking about tube tops? I don’t know, but anyway, that’s what I see in my head when I see a tube top. A tube of biscuits. You know, when something is ‘one size fits all’ you are begging for that tube of biscuits look.

Way to go New Guy, you made my blog. The tube of biscuits comment did it. You’re big time now. Tens of people will read about you. You are still New Guy.

OK, so I saw my first tube top of the year. That means it is summer now. Ugh, tube of biscuits. Mix in some straps would you?

One last thing. Riding in today (yeah I know, it was too warm) I see a dude waddling around in the middle of the road in Julia Davis Park. There is a duck chasing him. That’s something you don’t see every day. A duck chasing a guy in spandex. His bike is laying on the gb. Looks like he stopped to ‘help’ some ducklings over the curb. So the mother duck is chasing him. He is running, because you know, a 5 pound duck can really mess you up. That sharp bill and all. And those teeth. Not to mention the poison.

I tried not to laugh out loud. No. That’s not true. I didn’t try. I just laughed.

Mashup Madness

Over the last several months my favorite music has become mashup. It’s when someone takes two or three seemingly unrelated songs and mashes them all together to make a new song. My favorites are on albums called ‘The Best of Bootie’. Ah yes, Bootie. Look them up on the internet. You can download them for free. I think it may be legal, but I am not very sure.

Anyhow, download them. Then listen to them. Then like them. If you don’t like them, listen again. If that doesn’t work try one more time. If you still don’t like it you may be something less than cool. I guess that is ok, but mashup is sweet.

Well most of the time mashup is cool. My commuter bike is a mashup. I took all the crap in my garage and mashed it together. Some of it is cool. Some of it, not so much. Let me point out that I am rolling with a Shimano shifter, and a Campagnolo rear derailleur. I know – that sound you just heard – that was Tulio Campagnolo rolling over in his grave. For those not bike inclined, mixing the Shimano and Campy is like putting Lambo doors on a Chevy Cavalier. Or like mixing ‘The Biggest Loser’, and ‘Dancing with the Stars’.




They did that you know. Mashed up ‘The Biggest Loser’ and ‘Dancing with the Stars’. Yup. Fat people dancing to lose weight. It’s called ‘Dancing Your Ass Off’, I think it is on the Oxygen network. Unfortunately I am not joking.

Not sure, but I think they missed the point. I am pretty sure that people watch ‘The Biggest Loser’ for inspiration, motivation, and self esteem – not to watch fat people humiliate themselves by rolling around on a dance floor. I am also pretty sure that most people don’t watch ‘Dancing with the Stars’ for the dance steps. Men don’t watch it to see the athletes. No one was disappointed to see LT go home, his partner Edita on the other hand… I will stop there. I am on the verge of saying something I shouldn’t. Lets just say it is more about the beautiful people than the dancing.

Regardless of what Queen said, fat bottomed girls DON’T make the world go around. That’s a hard sell even when you put it on the same album as Bicycle Race. I mean Freddie Mercury didn’t even buy that one, now did he.

So maybe not all mashups are good. That’s why I am blowing up my TV, and collecting money off the road to buy a much coveted 9-speed Shimano derailleur.

Happy Friday Everybody.

My Scooby Haiku

Shaggy is missing

papper shredder is jammed

my son looks guilty

A little Haiku for everyone. Yes the Shaggy game piece from the Scooby-doo game is missing, the shredder is jammed like you wouldn't believe, and my son says he didn't do it.

Rut Ro!

The Flying Elmer

I just noticed today that one of my co-workers has a dried up fish on her bookshelf. No, not stuffed. No, not a fake fish. A real, once was alive – but now is dead, dried up fish. Like a little fish raisin. Its like if you had a fish tank, the little fish jumped out, and you didn’t notice for two months. Then you moved the fish tank. And left the fish there. WTF? Who keeps a dried up fish on the shelf? Seriously.

First one co-worker with the on-desk compost pot, now this. Damn it. Shit like this is why I want to scream.

On the other hand, I do have a collection of dried up desserts on my shelf. But that is different. That is a funny, subtle protest.

But a fish? Jesus.

So I raced two criteriums last night at the fairgrounds. Well actually only one plus about 5 laps of another. I guess ‘raced’ is probably the wrong word for what I did in the first one too. It was more like riding around in circles really fast with a bunch of other guys. To say that I raced would imply that I actively took part, rather than just followed the people in front of me.
Nonetheless, it hurt. Hurt enough that my ‘warm-up’ ‘race’ turned into a struggle for survival, complete with snot, slobber, bleary eyes, and a decided desire to quit.

It wasn’t all bad though. It was the first time I have ever caught air in a race. There was that. I was following a teammate along the outside of the course as we passed the start finish line. He veered a little bit around a cone that had fallen along the side of the course. I didn’t veer.
The cone wasn’t your standard traffic cone. This one was yellow, about four feet high, with a base about a foot across. It wasn’t made of soft rubbery stuff, rather, hard plasticy stuff. If you lay it over on its side it would look a lot like a ramp. If you lay it over on its side beside a race course it would be a ramp.

So I hit the ramp. Not on purpose, it was just there.

In my head I launched off the ramp, did a sweet table topper, clicked back into my pedals and landed – riding away with the rest of the pack. In reality I don’t even think both my tires came off the ground at the same time. I didn’t do a trick, unless contorting your face in fear is a trick. I did ride away with the rest of the pack though. That part was good.

I was going to do a sweet trick on the next lap though. Really. But they moved the cone.

The tool? It’s the fish. Definitely the fish.

I'm Dead Sexy

I knew that I was sexy, but I did not know I was sexy enough to throw money at. Apparently I am that sexy. Dead sexy. (Don't hate me because I'm beautiful).

Well, at least sexy enough that teenage boys feel the need to throw money at me when I am riding my bike and they drive by in their cars. I must admit that it bothers me a little bit in a homophobic way that teenage boys find me sexy enough that they would throw their hard earned money at me. By hard earned, I mean the money that mom gave them to buy greasy pizza for lunch. I guess I will get over it. I just wish they would throw more, maybe a dollar bill paper airplane every once in a while.

It is a little ironic that when I finally decided to start picking up the money that I see on the side of the road that people start throwing it at me. I always suspected that was how it got there, but now I am sure. It pisses me off a little bit, but it could be worse. I mean, it’s not like it hurts or anything. Like, how hard can you throw a penny from inside a car. Now a dollar coin, that might hurt, but it would be worth it too. Regardless, it wouldn’t hurt as bad as the bee that stung me in the groin area yesterday. Little bastard.

So anyhow, I made $0.15 on my commute yesterday. That doesn’t even count the money that was thrown at me – which I didn’t pick up. I do have some dignity. Now I have $1.02. Soon I will have enough money to get the ghetto 9 speed Shimano derailleur that I have long coveted.
I don’t know if I should be optimistic or pessimistic about the economy in regard to this incident. Do people throw money at cyclists because they have disposable income, or is it because they don’t have enough money to buy bullets?

Ladders and Longhorns - Happy Monday

So whose idea was it to start putting huge ass Texas longhorn handlebars on cruiser bikes? It’s always a good idea to have your hands waaayyyy outside your shoulders if you want to maintain control over your bicycle. Especially if you are riding a bike, which, by definition is meant to be ridden slowly (cruiser). Because, you know, anyone who has ridden a bicycle knows they (bicycles) are so much easier to maneuver at slow speeds. Add in a front tire almost as wide and soft as (insert fat celebrity here) and you are golden.

Then you take said rig somewhere with restricted space and a bunch of people, like, you know, the gb. The gb that has designated lanes only slightly wider than the width of your ridiculous handlebars. Yeah, that one. That’s a great idea. You should put little tassels or something on your wide ass handlebars to make them a little more annoying too. Then you should put on your iPod and jam in the middle of the gb – where they put those little dashes for you to zig zag through. Yep, that’s what you should do. Then do it while I am trying to get to work. I would love that. I should say, I did love that.

I almost loved it enough to forget ladder guy. Yes, I saw a guy hauling around a ladder with his bicycle. It wasn’t actually on the bicycle, he made a custom ladder rack for it on his kiddy trailer. Nice. I’m speechless. Well almost speechless. More muddled. Can’t decide if it was DUI guys work truck, or if the guy lived in a tree house and taking the ladder was his way of locking the door. Whatever, at least he had normal handlebars.

Profiling

Holly Crap! I got the coolest new gadget for my bike. A Garmin 305. It is sooo sweet. It collects all kinds of worthless information while I ride, then I can download it to my computer afterword and make pretty pictures.

I am almost positive that it is going to make me a better cyclist. I know, you are thinking that I am going to download the data, analyze it, and develop a detailed training plan that will help me destroy the competition right? Not likely.

Just like the bubble sheets that you use to take standardized tests, the elevation profile just begs to be manipulated to make pictures. If I find a hill and ride up and down it in a calculated way I should be able to make some wicked art. Here is what I’m thinking. This is the profile for my half bogus ride yesterday.

Ignore that red line. That’s just my heart doing heart things. The green line, now I think that is a reasonable rendition of ‘Witches Tit’ a big rock up at Bogus Basin that you can jump off if there is a bunch of snow.

Now think, if I did two half Bogus’s I would get something like this:

Yup, something like that. If once is witches tit, this is Dolly. That’s what I am going to call it. Dolly. When guys get together for a bike ride they can ask ‘Want to do Dolly today?’. It will be a route description with a little Def Leppardesk sexual innuendo thrown in. Nice.

I don’t think anyone has ever done Dolly (except maybe Burt), why the hell would you ride two half Bogus’s when you could ride one whole one. Well now you know why. You can bet your ass I am going to do it. That’s why this thing is going to make me a better cyclist. I am going to have to ride up and down a lot of hills to make cool pictures.

This one is going to be called the The Angry Cyclist.

I’m going to need a steep hill for that one. Maybe Quail Ridge, or Genzel.
When I am done I will blow them up, print them, slap them in a frame and sell them at art in the park. I wonder if I will make more money doing that or picking up change off the road – speaking of – cha-ching – found a copper on the way to work. $0.88.

You better pre-order yours now, just in case.

Rocking the GB

Mules are big, but I am fast, so I was pretty sure I could make it. I had the angle too, but the mule didn’t back off – he wasn’t gonna make it easy. We made eye contact, and with it we had an understanding. He was going to try and run my lycra clad butt into the ground. That was the understanding.

We were converging at a high rate of speed when a rider appears coming straight at us in the other direction. This makes the cheese more binding. Again, eye contact, this time with the rider coming at me. He smirks and gives me the Chicago nod. You know, the one where you nod up instead of down.

I blast by in front of the rider coming one way and slip in just in front of the converging mule. Stupid Boise Parks guys in their mules anyway. They think they own the greenbelt. Bitches.
By the way, is greenbelt one word or two? Both? Eff –it, I’m rolling with gb from now on. How very hip and texty of me.

So yeah, that was on the gb by the fireman memorial where the little dirt path connects. That was the highlight of the commute, but definitely not the only excitement yesterday. It’s definitely ‘Game On’ on the gb. Everyone is out in force. Doublewide stroller lady is there. Singlewide stroller lady is there with her two best friends on either side. Extendo leash dog guy is out too. Yellow jacket guy traded in the jacket for his obligatory neon yellow jersey, but he is rocking on the gb too. Fisherman with fishing poles swinging everywhere? Yup, he is there too. I even got yelled at by smartass teenage girls who loiter on the docks at Quinns Pond, or Bob Rice Pond, or Clocktower Pond, or whatever the hell you want to call it. One of my co-workers even crashed into a pedestrian on the gb yesterday. Excellent.

With the warming weather the masses have returned. Thank God, I was getting tired of writing about stuff I found on the road.

The Bike With No Name

Rolled to work this morning singing ‘Fred Bear’ by Ted Nugent. I know, why the hell would I sing about some dead bow and arrow guy while I ride my bike to work? Because it was stuck in my head, that’s why.

Got stuck there the other day when I listened to a cd I found on the road. It’s the first cd of my next box set. After ‘Fred Bear’ comes some Alien Ant Farm, some Kenny Chesney, some 50 Cent, some David Allan Coe, some Eminem, House of Pain, George Jones, DMX, and my personal favorite – ‘Beds Are Burning’ by Midnight Oil. It is all a little bit eclectic. Eclectic in a mind numbing sort of way. Eclectic is how you say bipolar in hipster talk.

Someday I should have a party and only play the music that I picked up off the road. It could be a roadside junk party, everyone would have to bring something they got off the road to get in. That would be very green of me – cleaning up the planet and all. It would be sweet. But no one would come. I bet if I had free beer I could get a few of my virtual friends to come, but that may be kind of awkward. Maybe I could have a bounce house too, then the neighbor kids would come. Free beer, a bounce house, my virtual friends, the neighborhood kids (no beer for them), and maybe a skinny bike racer or two. Now that would be eclectic.

Actually free beer and a bounce house at the same party might not be so good.

Speaking of bipolar, I want to tell you a bit more about my commuter bike. The mix cd could be my Wednesdays tool. So could the Dire Straits cd I found. I could also write about the 3 cents I found (cha ching, cha ching, cha ching). I could also write about the quarter I saw but couldn’t pick up – but I am burning to tell you about my commuter bike. The bike with no name. But that is going to have to wait…

A Retrospective Perspective

When I got all worked up over the weekend about communism it reminded me of this guy I used to work with. The first day I met him he pulled me aside and in a hushed voice explained to me that everyone with facial hair was a communist. He was dead serious. His name was Dick. Really, Dick. He was a retired Army Colonel, and he had little matrices to help him decide everything in life. You know, if A then B – that kind of stuff. I imagine somewhere on his matrix it said ‘If facial hair, then communist’. I have never wanted to grow facial hair so bad in my life. Not that I was a communist, I just didn’t like Dick.

When I worked at that job with Dick, I met another guy. His name was Richard Payne Ph.D.. When he gave me his card I really tried not to laugh. I really did. Karma really bit me in the ass a few years later when I met the real Dr. Dick Pain. His name wasn’t Payne though. It was Williams. And he was a urologist, not a Ph.D.. Seems that laughing about the other guy gave me a kidney stone, and a new perspective on pain. Talk about OMG! Karma is a bitch. Just when you think you are safe – BOOM!

Anyway, Richard Payne was trying to save the world with statistics. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but what Richard didn’t realize is that ignorance trumps statistics every time. Every time. The real challenge in science isn’t new discoveries or figuring out how things work. It is overcoming things that we know are true, even if they aren’t.

Here are some things I figured out that are true over the weekend…

• It takes about a mile or two of riding a bike in the rain for your butt to get really wet.
• It takes about 15 miles of riding a bike in the rain for the water to start sloshing in your cycling shoes.
• Riding a bike behind someone else riding a bike in the rain makes it hard to see.
• Rain water coming off the road doesn’t taste very good.
• Rain water coming off the road can deposit sand in your ears. Amongst other places.
• Riding bikes with other people in the rain makes it hard to stop and pick stuff up. Damn it.
• You can get almost as wet from perspiring inside a rain prophylactic as you would from the rain without it.
• Some people will call you ‘rubber boy’ if you wear a rain prophylactic.
• Weathermen are like Congressmen. Most of the time they don’t know what the hell they are talking about. With either you are better off going outside and taking a look around.

Happy pandemic everybody.

Pot Calling Kettle...

So sitting down to the newspaper this evening to read some two day old news, I find that congress wants to get involved in college footballs Bowl Championship Series. It seems some people think all schools should have an equal chance. Blah, blah, blah... whatever.

Joe Burton, a congressman from Texas calls the current system 'like Communism'. Um OK. What is this, like 1984? Are the Ruskies coming to get us? Dude. Communism. Really?

Ok lets see. Currently the BCS has a two groups of people selected to represent everyone and they vote for who they think is best (sound familiar?). Joe wants an egalitarian system where everyone has the same rights and shares equally. Hmm. Now what is communism again? Not sure, where did I put that Karl Marx book anyway?

Idiot.

So I would complain that congress has more important things to figure out, but I don't think I really want this guy messing with the economy or health care.

Getting Back

I still want my blood back. Riding to work this morning didn’t feel so good. Like I was a quart low. Oh well, so it goes.

I did get something back yesterday. It’s the last CD of my box set, yes the flaming CD in all of its glory. The Easter bunny brought it back, also left a chocolate bunny. I am going to eat it with bananas. The bunny, not the CD. The CD will go in the Angry Cyclist Box Set with the rest. It says Los Relampagos on it. That is Spanish for ‘lost garage tapes’ – every box set needs lost garage tapes, even if they should have stayed lost. All real fans want to listen to the crap that wasn’t even good enough to be the crappy songs on an album.

Speaking of crap that isn’t good enough, I got rid of the birds/flat tire ticker. I pretty much proved the relationship last year anyway. Flip a bird, get a flat. Yes it is a bitch, but it is true. Just ask Johnny Atmos, that guy gets more flats than anyone I know. So yeah, I got rid of it – its job was done and I had pretty much forgotten about it anyway.

I have a Cha-Ching –O-Meter now. I am going to pick up all the monetary projectiles I see on the side of the road and track the total on the Cha-Ching-O-Meter. I am going to the put all the projectiles in the Beer Stein of Eternal Glory which I received as a service award from my job. This would be kind of funny if you know where I work. Yes, I have a job other than being a smart ass on the internet. Go figure.

So right now I have like $0.84. I am really kind of bummed about it. See, it is a Canadian dollar coin. I thought Canadian money was worth more than American. I looked it up and apparently that is not the case. I thought I would have like $1.25 but no, I only have $0.84 Unless I go to Canada, which I would have considered a year ago. Damn. At least this puts us in a better negotiating position if we try to trade GM for the Labatt Breweries. That would be good.

Maybe I will save the money and donate it to a charity. A charity like the David Lee Roth Foundation for Teenage Boys Forced to Have Sex With Their Hot Teachers. Or maybe I will just keep it for myself.

Happy May Day.