I'm All Blocked Up

I gotta say, I am all blocked up. Just nothing is getting out.

Yup, all blocked up. Intellectually blocked up, that is. There ain’t nothing getting out of this brain any time soon.

You see, it is time for me to renew my cell phone contract and get a new phone. A new phone is good, I just can’t decide what kind I need. I should say want, I don’t know what kind I want. I know what kind I need, one that makes phone calls – unfortunately I am pretty sure that is the only kind of phone I don’t want.

Part of me wants a smart phone, like a blackberry or something. I know a guy that has one and he does all kinds of cool stuff with it. If I had one I could do cool stuff with it too, but I probably wouldn’t. But I could if I wanted to.

So yeah, I could get one of those but then I would have to pay for data service and that is expensive. Besides, I already surf the internet too much. Most importantly though, they are HUGE. Pull my jersey over my butt and into my back wheel HUGE. That’s the last thing I need, a huge phone bump’n around over my huge ass when I ride my bike. But then, I could do some cool stuff.

So I might want a smaller phone. A phone that wouldn’t weight down a cycling jersey and pull it into my back wheel. But then I couldn’t do some cool stuff. Not that I would do cool stuff if I could do cool stuff, but it would be cool to know that I could do cool stuff if I wanted or needed to do cool stuff.

Also it would be nice if I could show other people that I could do cool stuff if I wanted to do cool stuff, but I am so cool I am above doing cool stuff. You know, I could go to Starbucks and hangout with the other Prius driving, fixed gear riding, north end living, organic food eating, phone that can do cool stuff owning hipsters.

Honestly, I don’t really even need a phone so much as I need a camera. A camera with a phone attached incase I need a phone. I wonder if they have one of those? But on the other hand, I really would like to be a hipster, and a smart phone would be cheaper than a hybrid or living in the north end. I could probably get a fixed gear for less than a phone though.

So you can see, I am all blocked up with intellectual indecision.

Gargamel's Revenge

I got a catalog from Cabela’s the other day. They are the ‘Worlds Foremost Outfitter’ you know.
I don’t really know what that means, but there it is.

So always needing to be outfitted, I sat down to see what the foremost could do for me. I didn’t get far in before I came across this picture…

WTF?

What exactly is going on here? A guy in his underwear, holding a gun. Not just any gun, a blue gun. Boy, I tell you - that makes me want to buy some underwear – and a blue gun.

So I guess the guy heard a noise, woke up, and went outside to check it out – with his blue gun.
Maybe he didn’t just wakeup though, it looks like he had time to put Brill Cream in his hair (A Little Dab’ll Do Ya) – but he hasn’t had time to shave yet.

Or maybe that is just how the dude dresses when he goes hunting. Look at his steely eyes, he looks braced for a day of intense and challenging hunting. Hunting Smurfs. What else would you hunt with a blue gun.

I can see it is engraved on the stock – ‘Gargamel’s Revenge’. No, not really – I made that up.
Nevertheless, it is clearly a Smurf hunting gun. Stained blue with the blood of countless Smurfs. How else would you make a gun blue?

So maybe you hunt Smurfs in your underwear (and socks). It is quieter, and Lord knows, you must be quiet to catch a Smurf. Yup, that’s what is going on.

One more thing. Note the underwear bottoms are ‘drawers’. Not bottoms. Not pants. Drawers. I’m not sure what distinguishes drawers from pants, but I am guessing it is important when it comes to hunting Smurfs.

Cabela’s is indeed foremost – whatever that means.

Sucking Ass

Have you ever noticed the little wave that people on motorcycles give each other when they pass? You know, where they drop their left hand down and a little over as if to say 'hey brother'. Or have you experience when you are riding you bicycle and another cyclist gives you the reverse head nod in recognition in your mutual coolness? It doesn't really matter what you are riding, because you have in common is more important than your differences?

Hopefully you know what I am talking aobut or have experienced it. Now you probably aren't going to believe this, but people in cars used to do the same thing around here. Yup, when you passed there was a little wave, or lifting the fingers off the wheel a bit in acknowledgement. Acknowledgement that we are more the same than we are different.

Really, thats how it was when I was 14 years old and started driving in 1986. Back when hair was big, and polo shirts were layered with the collars turned up. Not that I would know any thing about that.

We don't do that anymore. Acknowledge each other, I mean - some people still wear multiple polo shirts with the collars turned up. Not that I would know anything about that.

Somewhere along the line people started sucking ass. They became more interested in their differences than their similarities, and started mocking each other rather than acknowledging. I'm not really sure when people start sucking ass. I mean, individually people are still pretty much ok (except maybe Bill Sali), but all together they kind of suck ass. So maybe I should be asking how many people it takes to start sucking ass, rather than when did people start sucking ass.

I think it is somewhere around 100,000 - and that people around here started collectively sucking ass in the early 1990's. You could say that is when we reached ass sucking threshold.

Much About Nothing

I really got nothing today.

There were some people on my ride home rocking down the gb with two way radios and headsets. I’m not sure if it was stupid, or smart – I mean at least they weren’t riding side by side mindlessly chatting, but it did look kind of dorky. Whatever.

A saw a lady jogging in a tube top. I am pretty sure that is a bad idea. I mean, I’m no expert but I did have man boobs once – and I definitely would not have jogged in a tube top.

While I was contemplating the tube top thing I got attacked by a pterodactyl. At least I think it was a pterodactyl, and I think it was attacking me because it made that sound a pterodactyl makes in the movies before it eats dudes. It was either that, or a gbh scared by one of the drunken morons on the river. Either way, I think I need a new chamois.

I did find a cd on the way home, and was a bit disillusioned when I listened to it, but I think I will save that for later.

One last thing. I know you all are anxious about how the race for the salmon is going. Well, while Alberto Contador was making everyone his bitch today, Frenchman Maxime Bouet snuck into 69th, but is closely pursued by Frenchman Geoffroy Lequarte. Don’t discount Garmin though, Zabriskie and Millar made moves today and are 71st and 72nd. Good times.

Idaho State Championship Criterium

I am the Jason Alexander of bike racing.

You know Jason Alexander, the angry little bald man from Seinfeld. The largely irrelevant one. Yeah, in bike racing that’s me. Actually, that’s probably me not in bike racing too, except I think I may be skinnier. Maybe.

Anyhow, I was racing in the Idaho State Championship Crits this weekend. In the Master’s B race I attacked a few laps in hoping someone would go with me and we could have a nice little breakaway. No one came with me. I gave it a few laps to see if someone would try to bridge over, but no one did. That was about the time I figured out I was irrelevant. Ugh, how embarrassing is it when you attack and no one cares. So I sat up. I didn’t want to be solo breakaway guy, I know I should have, I just didn’t want to.

The rest of the crit was largely uneventful after that. Uneventful except for the Dobiacco guy that tried to kill us all once by swerving across the road. And then trying to kill me individually a few times by not holding his line in the chicane. And then trying to kill me again later by swerving across the road on the front stretch when I was right next to him. I am sure he thought they were all deft bike handling maneuvers, but I think they were more daft than anything.

Yeah, I guess that was eventful. There was the part where I involuntarily spewed potty words too. Sorry about that. Actually, no, no I am not.

No harm, no foul I guess. Other than that there were a ton of left turns and some zig zags to the right. A couple dudes from out of state took off in a break and we never got organized to pull them back. My team mate Mark Bockenstette took the sprint for the state championship. That was good, he deserves it.

For some reason I raced in the cat 3 race after that. About 10 minutes in however, I reached left turn capacity. Yup, couldn’t turn left anymore – plumb outta left turns. So I turned right. Right off the course and called it a day.

Last night on tv I saw a made for tv movie ‘Meteor’. Jason Alexander was in it. If you are an actor and find yourself in a made for tv movie you know you are irrelevant. If you are in a made for tv movie and they kill you off in the first hour (like they did to Jason Alexander), not only are you irrelevant – you are probably washed up too.

I am the Jason Alexander of bike racing.

Conspiracy at Le Tour?

I got some new deodorant yesterday. I am using it today, and I gotta tell you – I smell good. Yup, that sport scent wafting from under my arms is just the right amount smelly goodness. I am really enjoying it today too – I should say, that is, I was enjoying it until one of my co-workers rolled in a while ago. She smells a little strongly herself. Maybe more than a little. I hate that. When it comes to smelling good, there can be too much of a good thing. Some people throw a lot of smelly stuff on trying to smell ‘intoxicating’. There is a fine line between intoxicating and nauseating, and someone here just crossed it.

So Wednesdays tool is either my sweet new pit stick, or stinky people – you pick. I should mention I did pick up some real tools this week – a box end wrench, and a 9mm socket. Metric! Score! Oh yeah, I also picked up six cents. Cha-ching.

But who really cares about that. I want to talk about the Tour de France. Dave Zabriskie (famous inventor of DZ Nuts) tweeted the other day that he was in 69th place. I saw that and thought to myself ‘self, they should really have a jersey for that’. I mean they have the yellow for the leader, polka-dot for the ‘best climber’, the green jersey for the ‘best sprinter’, and even the laterne rouge recognition for the last placed rider – so why not the salmon colored jersey for the 69th placed rider.

If you think about it, the salmon colored jersey would be the hardest to win. All you have to do to win the yellow is beat everybody. The polka-dot or green, just score more points than everybody. The latern rouge, just lose to everybody. But the salmon jersey, that one you would have to worry about getting attacked from both ends, so to speak. The guy in 68th could attack you by trying to lose some time, at the same time the guy in 70th could try to finish ahead of you a bit. If they coordinated their attacks it would be nearly impossible to win 69th.

Doing a little research into it, I think there may even be a little 69th race going on right now and we don’t even know it. I think that Garmin is after it. Since Z’s post he has faltered into 68th, but fret not his teammate Ryder Hesjedal maneuvered into 69th and today did some work to consolidate his position – losing 30 seconds with a well timed wheel overlap and crash. When I saw it today I thought it was just a momentary lapse in concentration, but now I am pretty sure that he did it on purpose.

Reviewing the standings I also find that David Millar is in good position going into the mountains in 65th place, well within his abilities to grasp 69th. Yes, I am pretty sure that it is a Garmin conspiracy. Looking back, I find the Millar came oh so close last year finishing 68th – loosing in the end to Joost Posthuma. Don’t feel too bad for David, because he locked it up in 2007 – yup 69th baby!

Sandy Casar won it in 2006, and in fact it seems that there is a lot of French interest in 69, there are always some Frenchman lurking in the past results. Thomas Voekler always seems near 69. I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised.

I for one am anxious to see how this one turns out. Screw Lance and Berto – the real race will be playing out way behind them. The race for salmon.

Chicken Butt

You know what is mildly irritating? Chip seal. Chip seal is mildly irritating.

At least I thought it is mildly irritating.

I saw on the news that in the City of Eagle they are using smaller size gravel in their chip seal because cyclists like it. I guess I knew that (that I prefer smaller kibble) – because the Ada County Highway District told me so a few years ago when they chip sealed Hill Road.

Turns out, I also prefer the chip seal to plain old asphalt because when it rains less water flies up off the road and onto my butt. They told me that too.

I do prefer not to have a wet butt. They are right about that. I’m not sure however, if I prefer to be pelted by little rocks 330 days a year or have a wet butt 30 days a year? I’m sure they will tell me soon.

Eagle used smaller kibble because they wanted everyone to know that they are bike friendly. Uh-huh. Did you know that Eagle is the only town in Idaho where I have actually been pulled over by a cop while riding my bike? I guess I deserved it, but that’s beside the point. Eagle is also the only place I ever raced on a criterium course where the city refused to completely close traffic. Not to mention that Eagle doesn’t have bike lanes on their main street through town.

They do have parallel parking, there is that.

To be fair, I have only been hit by one car while riding in Eagle and I never actually came off my bike.

Speaking of Eagle I saw bike safety guy there on Sunday.

Odds of being hit from behind? About nill. You would think anyway.

Odds of being pissed at me? Pretty good. He saw me taking pictures of him in one of his many rearview mirrors.

Working With Darth Vader

I am pretty sure that sign wiggly guy is the worst job on the planet. Well, that is, I was pretty sure until last Friday. That was the day when I saw some guys mowing the lawn of the Simplot mansion (you know, the 40 acre one) with weed eaters.

If the cordless saws-all is the best powertool ever, then the weed eater is the worst. You know the worst part of the weed eater? It's that little plastic shield they put on there to protect you from flying nastyness. Yeah, the one that doesn't work at all. Works so poorly that the professional lawn dudes take them off. Thats why they have green legs. Green legs with lots of flesh wounds. Like the guys on Simplots hill.

So yeah, that job would suck, but I am wondering if I may want it soon. I sit near Darth Vader at work. Not that they are evil and use the force, no they're not that cool - they just breath loud when they are angry, which seems to be all the time.

If I had a weed eater I would hear that.

Stick This...

You know what I hate? Yeah, well that too, but what I was thinking of was those Calvin pissing window stickers. And those Sentsy*** window stickers. And those Mona Vi window stickers. And I already told you about how I hate those little stick family window stickers. Come to think of it, I hate pretty much hate all window stickers. I kind of think that windows are better to look through than at. Maybe it is just me.

Back to the Calvin pissing window stickers. I don’t care what your Calvin is pissing on, the fact that you have a picture of Calvin pissing in your window pretty much tells me all I need to know about you.

And those window stickers about your side ‘business’ tells me a few things too. First, that you are probably trying to write off your vehicle expenses illegitimately, and second that you are screwing your friends by selling them crap that isn’t worth it.

Here is my favorite though…

A guy at work has this one. It says ‘If it ain’t pit, it ain’t shit.’ So, if it is pit – it is shit? Yes, I think that’s what it means.

Happy Friday.

The F*** Robie Creek Mildly Amusing Jog

I have always contended that running is a survival skill, not a sport - and I stand by that. I think once I also gave you ten reasons why I would never (ever) run Robie Creek.

You know where this is going right? Well I have been a hypocrite at least since I was in junior high and wore Birkenstock sandals one week that I called Jesus walkers the week before. Yeah, I have been ruminating about running Robie Creek next year. Then a while back someone implied in a discussion about it that I wouldn’t be able to do it – so now I have to do it. God, I hate that.

I thought I would start with a 10k this fall, you know, to see if I could even run halfish of a flat Robie. So I started practicing. So far I have run a whopping 4 miles at once. It took 30 minutes. I am more than half way to the halfish.

None of that is important though. What is, is that I decided I don’t want to run Robie. I don’t want to stay up late to try and register for one of the limited entries. I don’t want to fight over beer from a keg that I didn’t choose. I don’t want to wait in a line to ride a bus back from the finish. I don’t want to be near 2500 other people. Especially when some of them are men in shorts that are split up the side and feature built in panties.

What I really want to do is mock all of that. I am all about mocking. So hear is my plan. I am going to train to run 13.1 ish miles. Then, one day when I am ready I will start running up towards Robie Creek. When I get to Aldape Summit, I will fly the double eagle and yell “eff Robie Creek”. Except I will say the eff word. Then I will turn around and run back down the way I came. I will go back to Municipal Park and drink beer. Beer out of a bottle. Beer that I selected. I realize that this will actually be longer, and maybe even harder that the actual race – but I don’t care.

I would call it the ‘F*** Robie Creek Fun Run’, but I don’t think it will be fun. I am willing to bet however that it will be mildly amusing. So I would call it the ‘F*** Robie Creek Mildly Amusing Run’, but I don’t really think that I will be running. The type of ambulating will be more similar to a jog I expect. So I WILL call it ‘The F*** Robie Creek Mildly Amusing Jog’. You are all invited. No built in pantie side slit shorts please.

I don’t know when it will happen. Probably about the time I am ready for it to happen – which could be never. But it seems like a good idea right now.

Cyclobeater

I have gnarly tan lines. If I were a farmer they would kick ass. But I am not, so they don’t. I guess I really only have two choices: I could become a farmer or try to make some of my other bits tan as well so I don’t have lines. While collecting government subsidies and complaining about everything sounds intriguing to me I don’t think that I am cut out for farming. I am pretty sure there is manual labor involved. That part doesn’t sound so good. So really my only choice is to make some of my other bits tan.

I decided to start with my arms. I have been rolling up the sleeves on my jersey for a week or so to give the sun access to some previously virgin flesh. I am not sure how it is working really. Actually, I am pretty sure it isn’t working. Instead of having two colors of flesh, now I have three. I am like the French Tricolor of human flesh. Instead of red white and blue though, my arms are brown – my shoulders are creamy – and my chest is pasty.

It isn’t easy being multicolored like me. My physique doesn’t make it any easier. In the past six months I have been called disgustingly boney and been favorably compared to a holocaust victim. I thought that I just had a fast upper body. If only I could get the lower half as fast I would be golden.

Desperate times call for desperate measures so I cut the sleeves off one of my cycling jerseys yesterday. That’s right, a cycling wife beater. A cyclobeater if you will. So I made my own cyclobeater. When I tried it on though, there were still little sleeve like protrusions where the real sleeves used to be – like mabe ¼ sleeves of 1/8 sleeves. Like one of those shirts you wore when you were a break dancer in the 80’s – you know what I talking about.

While I’m on the subject of break dancing in the 80’s can we please turn the page on Michael Jackson. Did everyone forget that the dude was an alleged pedophile (like OJ is an alleged murderer)? Enough about the mystery surrounding his death too. It was drugs, drugs I tell ya – haven’t you ever seen Behind the Music? Ugh.

Enough of that. So yeah, I had to make my cyclobeater a little beaty-er today. Thats beatier in French, for those who are French this month.

My new cyclobeater. Wednesdays Tool.

Tour of Doritos

I am the token bike guy in my office. Always have been in every place I ever worked. What that means is that whenever someone has a bicycle problem, a bicyclist problem, or just general bicycle knowledge they feel they need to share it with me.

Get flipped off by a guy on a bike riding down the middle of the road? Go to Mike. Need help fixing your bike so you can ride down the middle of the road and flip people off? Go to Mike. Got a random observation about bikes? Go to Mike. And this time of year – got a question about the Tour de France? Go to Mike.

I should actually say, got a question about Lance Armstrong? Go to Mike. Lance Armstrong pretty much is the Tour de France for most people I know. They are probably wondering why it has been so long since the last tour.

In the past I always had to explain why it was ok that Lance finished 79th on a given day, and how he would still win the race. Or explain why it was ok, maybe even good, that someone else was wearing Lance’s yellow shirt.

This year I am not so sure though. I don’t know if he is going to win. I don’t even know if he is the best on his team. I am leaning towards no. Why? Because he is old. Old like me. I, like Lance am 37 years old. I realize that is where the similarities pretty much end, but I can’t help but to think his body isn’t the same – much like mine isn’t the same.

So yeah, if his 37 year old ass feels anything like mine he ain’t winning. I know I’m not winning the tour of anything anytime soon. Except maybe the Tour of Doritos. If they had one of those I could win it. I love Doritos. That may be one reason that Lance and I are not similar at all, and he just might win.

White Pants

I continue to be impressed by the Boise Police Departments continued efforts to keep me safe. News broke last week that they managed to arrest a dangerous pair of incestuous siblings. Well, technically they are only half siblings – but that doesn’t matter, they racked ‘em up on felony charges. Damn, I knew it was freaky, but didn’t know it was a felony.

That will teach them. And make all their victims feel better. What victims, you say? Well, me for one. When I read the article I felt slightly nauseous, and felt a minor pain in my side over where my appendix once resided. Of course, if they never would have arrested them I never would have known, and never experienced the nausea and mildly uncomfortable feeling in my gut. Interesting really. Kind of like that tree in the forest thing. If the guy and his sister (half) get freaky and the police don’t arrest them, did they really get freaky at all? I don’t really think so.

I can’t help but to think that BPD would have something better to spend their resources on. You know what I am talking about. Yes that.

And here is another. It really should be illegal to wear white pants. They should arrest people for that. You have seen people in white pants right? You can see the little inside part of the pockets through the outer material. You can see the persons underwear through the material (especially if they are black, which seems to be a popular choice with the white pants wearing crowd). You can see all of the unfortunate geographic features of the white pants persons rear end. You have seen that right? I’m not the only one right? So after you see someone else do that, why the hell would you do it yourself? What? You think you look different in white pants? Well I gotta tell you… Even Don Johnson had to wear those cheesy jackets right?

So yes, since you have got to know what it looks like, I am just going to assume that you wear white pants because you want to show everyone your underwear and geographic features (unfortunate). I don’t want to see that. Mix in some blue or something (the pants, not the underwear). And oh yeah, don’t think you can solve the problem by not wearing underwear – you can’t.

White pants should be illegal. White spandex – OMG don’t get me started. Not needing that either. No, it doesn’t make you look Euro. It makes you look FAT. Even if you have 2% body fat.

My Bike Goes Naked

It was huge! It made my man purse look like a fanny pack. It was a bike bag mounted on this dudes handlebars. It was one of those bags that you put your ‘just in case’ stuff in. Like, just in case I get stuck on the moon during my ride I will put this Apollo command module in here. It was roughly the size of an Apollo command module. It was ridiculous.

I thought to myself ‘self, you could pick up a lot of stuff off the side of the road if you had one of those’. I have got to stop picking stuff up. Especially if I need a special bag to store it in.

I am anti-bag. I think that bikes, much like dogs, should not wear clothes. There is nothing I hate worse than a dog in clothes. I mean really, if your dog needs a sweater to keep warm I am thinking that the dog breeder guy went a few steps too far. Evolution was going pretty good before people got involved. Natural selection = good. Human selection = cats with no hair. WTF.

So yeah, anyway, my bike goes naked. If it doesn’t fit in my pocket, it doesn’t go with me. Luckily CD’s fit in my jersey pockets quite nicely. I found a few over the weekend. CD’s not pockets.

First one I was riding along, passing a walking guy (walking as in ‘I don’t have a car’ walking – not ‘I am great’ walking) and spot a CD. I stop and pick it up. I look at it…

Holly crap! This is disturbingly close to work. Actually it kind of is work. I don’t pick things up on the side of the road to find work for Christ sake. It was like signing up for a dating service and getting hooked up with your sister. Ugh.

I would have chucked it, but walking guy was watching. Watching in a wtf, kind of way.
The second one was strangely in about the same place, but on the opposite side of the road on my way back. Even more strangely, walking guy was there again – apparently on his way back from his errand. So I stop and pick up the other CD. I think walking guy laughed at me. I can’t really blame him.

Thank god this one didn’t have work on it. In fact, it had some fine musical stylings, including my new favorite song – Fuck You – By Lily Allen.

Lily Allen is a bad, bad girl.