Tour de Pants 3

The other day a co-worker and I were sitting discussing, um, work related topics when a second co-worker came up. We will call him Opie. So Opie looks at me and says ‘Mike, that’s a NICE shirt’. He said it in such a way that the original co-worker was immediately prompted to mention something about the undertone of the statement.

You know, I didn’t really need the follow up statement about the undertone because I clearly heard what Opie meant the first time. He said ‘holly crap! Mike isn’t dressed like a bum today!’ Yeah, I’m not stupid, and like I have said before – it’s not that I don’t care what other people think, I just get over it really quickly.

Besides, it was true. I wasn’t dressed like a bum that day. That’s because it’s time for the Tour de Pants again. If you don’t remember , that’s the time of year when I start at one side of the closet and just start wearing stuff until I get to the other side – regardless of whether I want to or not.

Yup, I wear it all. The corduroy pants (vvvt,vvvt – it’s the cloth of kings you know), the high waters, and even the gnarly sweater that I got for Christmas. So then at the end I donate all the stuff I really hated wearing to charity.

I am on stage eight today. I am sporting some green pants that are left over from my fat days. The waist is like four inches too big. I really need a belt, but I couldn’t find it. I have to keep one finger through a belt loop at all times to prevent an unfortunate wardrobe malfunction. People probably think I am angry because I have had my hands on my hips all day. Yeah, these pants will soon be available at a youth ranch near you.

In case you were wondering – there are no bike shorts on the tour de pants. When bike shorts die they go to the ancient bike short burial ground. It’s like that place where all the elephants go to die in movies – only it is vaguely transparent bike shorts instead of elephant bones. Or something like that.

I think I have about ten stages left. That’s pretty good. The first time I did this there were like 40 stages - it took about a month and a half. The best dressed month and a half of my life.

It’s all pretty refreshing. And weird. You should try it.

Speaking of refreshing. Someone went all bumper cars on my truck yesterday – you know, when I was riding with Hitler on my way to work (or was that Bush). Yeah, schmacked right into the back of me – ugh. She didn’t have insurance and flat out lied to me and the cop about it. Refreshing eh? I am pretty sure it was Hitler’s fault. Little bastard.

So yeah, now I am trying to decide if it is worth suing someone who can’t afford insurance for my $500 deductable. I am leaning towards not. Sometimes I wish I had a buttonman.

First time in a long time I was glad I wasn’t riding my bike.

Chamois Chuffle

So I was talking to a friend last night and he was all geeked up about selling some stuff on ebay. I can understand that because, you know, what could be better than getting someone else to pay money for your junk?

Well, actually lots of things could be better. But getting rid of crap and making money at the same time is above average.

So I ask him what he sold. He rattles of this list of bike crap and how much he made on each of them. Somewhere in there he mentioned he sold some bike shorts…

I was like, ‘dude, seriously? Were they used?’

He said they were.

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. OMG! (Tears in my eyes). Seriously? Did I tell you the story about the campy shorts?

I go to the Sierra Trading Post store frequently. They have good deals on stuff in the bargain barn. Some of the stuff there has been returned, some is just messed up, and some just haven’t been sold yet. So yeah, anyway, one time I see some cycling shorts there. They were pretty sweet campagnolo shorts with a nice chamois and all. Well, nice except for that skid mark. Yes, they had received inspector 2’s stamp of approval. Whoa, dude.

Skid marks are bad enough when they have a known origin, but a foreign origin? Wow. Not even Darwin could justify that origin. You can’t sell that crap. Literally.

Well they tried for months. I’m hoping they failed and threw them out, but I am not optimistic. I look for them on club rides.

So dude is like ‘yeah, you told me that story – that’s part of the reason I tried to sell them”. Ouch, talk about unintended consequences. I shouldn’t talk so much.

Used cycling shorts? That’s like re-using toilet paper. Look! There is a square without poo – get busy!

I don’t know anyone that re-uses toilet paper, but I do know some people that re-use paper towels. Yup, rinse them off and hang em up to dry. Come to think of it, I don’t think I have been to the bathroom at their house.

Ugh. Used cycling shorts is like rubbing taints with someone. Which, by the way, is the image that comes to mind when I think of used bike shorts.

That just ain’t right.

No one would buy used underwear right? Then why the hell would you buy used bike shorts. I mean you can’t even turn them inside out really.

I guess actually you could. In fact I am sure that you could. Not only that, I dare you to. Yes, double dog. I will take your picture and make you famous with tens of people across the internets. That is, as long as they are your shorts – not someone elses.

I’m waiting…

Learning Modern Vernacular

My son got this at school a while back as part of the anti-drug campaign.



Apparently ‘Just Say No’ was working.

Yeah, so now you are just supposed to say “Peace Out” to drugs.

Um, yeah. Whatever that means.

I think it means ‘not right now, I am leaving – but maybe later. Thanks for offering’. I think it means that, but I’m not sure because, you know – I’m 37.

Is there anything more pathetic that when an old dude (like me) tries to roll with the latest high school trends? Well, maybe one thing. Like when the government tries to incorporate urban hip hop culture into drug campaigns.

Yeah, so peace out y’all.

Shortsightedness

There is this blog called indexed which publishes a new chart drawn on an index card every day. The charts usually present some sarcastic or smart assed idea in an easy to understand way. It is pretty much my favorite site right now. Because of it I have been thinking in chart and graphs a lot lately.

So yeah, yesterday this one popped into my head…



If you don’t get it that’s ok. You probably weren’t meant to. Don’t worry, I won’t do it again – I will leave that for the professionals. I just wanted to say something, you know, without actually saying it.

Speaking of social acceptance, a friend pointed out a letter to the editor in the statesman today. This is what it says…

BICYCLISTS
Businesses will pay price for Boise's ordinance

Boise City Council in its infinite wisdom enacted new rules to protect bicyclists. What it fails to realize is that these rules make Boise an unfriendly place for the drivers of cars. I personally will from this day forward avoid driving into Boise for anything. I will take my business into Meridian, Eagle, Garden City and Nampa. I will drive to the Nampa Costco, visit the theaters in Meridian and I will give up my co-op membership. The safety of my family comes first, and the 3-foot rule puts me at risk.

The shortsighted fix the city just chose to impose on all will make Boise a bike-friendly city. But will cost businesses dearly.

BRAD G. COZZENS, Eagle

Or you can read it here.

I am assuming Mr. Cozzens isn’t coming to Boise anymore because driving only 3 feet away from a cyclist is just not a great enough distance. He is protesting because he thinks it should be like 5 or 6 feet. The 3 foot rule puts his family at risk because if he comes that close he may accidently hit one and maybe they’ll put his ass in jail. He may even be sued in a civil suit for damages. Yup wouldn’t want to put the family at risk.

I mean, I assume this because surely he couldn’t think that he is endangering his family because he may have to move his car to the left a little bit? Surely he understands that if there was traffic coming the other way he could, I don’t know, let off the gas until it is clear? No, you would have to be a moron to think that. Not to mention that a lack of patience and unwillingness to yield would put your family in more danger than driving around a cyclist. Surely Brad is not a moron, right? I mean how could he be, he writes letters to the editor! I will give him the benefit of the doubt on this one.

Dude calls the city shortsighted.

Asshat.

Pack your bags Brad, you are going to have to move when the state passes a 3 foot law. Be careful where you move to though, I hear 14 other states have 3 foot laws. I am pretty sure they are after your family.

Happy weekend everybody. But Brad.

Unbelievable

I was driving along yesterday and passed this tax preparation place. There was a blow up Statue of Liberty and a rotund woman dressed as the Statue of Liberty doing the sign wiggly thing. I thought to myself, ‘self, wow, I really want that place to do my taxes for me!’

Well, actually not really.

Nothing says ‘I know tax laws’ like a fat chick in a green toga. Wiggling a sign. Among other things.

It reminded me of when I was headed out for a bike ride early on Saturday. I rode past this car lot and one of the salesmen were setting up for the day – you know, putting the enormous stuffed animals and balloons on the cars.

Does anyone really buy a car because there is a stuffed animal on top? I mean really. Your rocking along and look over ‘Holly crap! Did you see the size of that stuffed gorilla? I gotta have that car!’ If you are influenced into buying a car by a giant stuffed animal you probably shouldn’t be driving. Buy a bike – I will give you a stuffed animal.

Yeah, and if you use a stuffed animal to make money you are a carnie – not a ‘sales associate’.

Have you ever heard the saying in regard to money that ‘it is burning a hole in your pocket’? Yeah, well, I have the same problem on with my mouth. I see something and really want to say something about it even though I know I shouldn’t. It sits there burning a hole in my mouth.

I saw something in the newspaper the other day. It was in a decidedly un-funny section of the paper, probably the unfunniest. It has been burning a hole in my mouth.



Damn it! It got out! Ah nuts. Well…

I never thought I would see another double Richard, but there it is. Plain as day. Dick Chuck Dick. It’s a Dick Chuck sandwich. WTF. Poor bastard, he didn’t have a chance.

Oh, I didn't have a chance. I can’t believe I did that…

Been Fade'n

You know you live in a backassward state when they call Martin Luther King Day – Idaho Human Rights Day. I’m just saying. I mean really. Jeesh.

Speaking of human rights I came across this the other day.



Ouch. You ride with Hitler? I mean I was driving by myself just the other day, and would have sworn there was no Hitler there.

So I guess in the 1940’s when you saw this it made you want to car pool. Hmm, not working so much now. I think it needs a new evil dude.

The most evil things I can think of are Osama bin Laden, goat heads, and college book stores. Then there are the New York Yankees. The Yankees are like hors catagorie evil though, so they don’t really count. College book stores and goat heads really suck ass but they are hard to put on a poster discouraging driving so I guess we are left with bin laden.

Maybe congress should investigate college bookstores before they investigate the BCS. Talk about anti-trust.

Sorry.

Anyhow, yeah, bin Laden. Did you see the photoshopped aging photos in the paper the other day?



Looks like bin Laden been fade'n. Well on his way to being a white guy. Actually, he would make a decent poster child for my theory that life is nothing but the process of slowly dying. You lose a bit every day that you won't get back.

Morbid huh?

So I did some gimping...



Better, but still...



Ah, thats the one.

A Leap of What?

So I took a leap of narcissism the other day and got my very own domain name. Yeah, it was either that or lunch at Wendy’s. As much as I love the spicy chicken sandwich I love myself even more so I got the old www.theangrycyclist.com domain name. Besides, I am training for bike racing anyway right? Something like that.

I would have gone for www.angrycyclist.com, but someone else already got that one. Wanker. Its some dude from Brooklyn that apparently spends more time setting up his blog than writing in it. He doesn’t even seem that angry. What’s with people from New York thinking that they have the corner on the angry market?

Speaking of angry New York people, did you know that BikeSnobNYC is from Idaho. I shit you not. It takes growing up in rural Idaho to develop that much skepticism, cynicism, and sarcasm.

So anyway, yeah, if you type in that www you will get to my blog. I think the blogspot address still works too and will probably still show up in the address bar. Some kind of internet magic – it is all done with smoke and mirrors. All that for a spicy chicken sandwich.

Speaking of not eating spicy chicken sandwich’s I have been trying to get motivated for the upcoming bike racing season. I seem to be having a particularly hard time this year. I decided that I would add the the Race Countdown –O-Meter 5000 back to my blog. It’s over there to your right. I thought that would motivate me.

Yep, motivated as hell now. Can’t you tell? Me either.

I really want that spicy chicken sandwich. Anyone want to buy a domain name?

THE Talk

My son tells me the other day that he has some unwanted hair that he needs removed.

I’m like, you’re 6, you don’t have any unwanted hair little dude. He says, ‘my legs are really hairy’!

Uh, oh.

Umm.

Yeah.

I knew that some day I would be having the sex talk, but I honestly never thought about having the leg shaving talk. Holly crap, talk about unintended consequences. How do you explain leg shaving to a 6 year old?

I looked at my wife – she was no help. In fact, she was all hunched over because she was laughing so hard.

The list of excuses cyclists use to shave their legs roles through my head.

-Makes it easier to clean road rash – true – can’t use this one, my son falls off his bike more than I do so he will want me to bust out the razor for him.
-Makes massages less painful – I don’t know, I don’t get massages – and my son knows it so I can’t use that one.

-Makes you faster – true – I saw some research that shaving leg hair saves 2 seconds over 40 kilometers. No, that is so ridiculous I can’t use that one.

-Then there is my favorite – chicks dig it. Probably not true, but people tend not to question it because they don’t know either. Anyway, I can’t use that one – my son likes chicks beyond his years. He would be all over it.

-Then there is the real truth – well because everyone else (everyone else as in bike racers) does it. Yup, can’t tell a kid that you do something because everyone else is doing it.

Hum,

Yeah,

Well,

I think my wife is crying. She is definitely having a hard time breathing.

So fortunately on this particular day my legs were very similar to a cactus. Probably about a 50 grain sand paper if you will. Yeah it had been a day or two or eight.

Thinking quick I pull up my pant leg. Here, feel, dad has leg hair!
He feels it. ‘Wow Dad, you have a ton of hair’…
...
...
...
...

Sorry, I just had to relish that. It isn’t like I will hear it again. At least not with that honesty.

So yeah, crisis narrowly averted for now.

If It Smells Like It...

I was at this spin class the other day and it smelled like ass.

At first it only smelled like stinky gymness, but then this dude saddled up on the bike next to me and it started to smell like ass. Of course the first thing I do is perform a little pit check, you know, look around to see if anyone is watching an then make as if you are looking behind you and take a quick sniff.

Nope, I smelled like roses. I knew it wasn’t my shorts, because I got them fresh off the hanger. Besides, I sniffed the chamois before I put them on. Smelled like a mountain breeze. So yeah, I smelled like a freak’n rosy mountain breeze. It wasn’t me.

Had to be the dude next to me. He smelled like peanut butter and mustard mixed together. With maybe a splash of vinegar and a pinch of brown sugar. Just nasty. Ugh.

So I am thinking maybe I should go Greg LeMond and fake a flat so I could change bikes. Damn it! No tires, but I could fake a mechanical. No, I decide it isn’t that bad – when the fans kick on it will be ok.

After the fans kicked on it didn’t get better.

Spin class is harder if you hold your breath. Good thing the lights were off – someone would have seen me with my cheeks puffed out and face turning blue. They probably would have thought I was being rude. I’m not rude, just sensitive to smelly people.

Then we come to the part of class where you have to stand up and pedal. OMG! WTF! I almost crashed the bike. The ass-like smell really was ass! It smelled downright saucy in there. No, I’m serious.

I actually clicked out of the pedals because I was going to leave, not just move. But then I thought that everyone would think I had filled my shorts and had to make a run for it. No, I didn’t want to be a victim of second hand stink.

When the sitting down part of class rolled around I realized that I had the front of my shirt pulled up over my nose and mouth. There was this chick looking at me giving me the stink eye – schmirk combo. I just shrugged, I mean, what do you do?

That was probably the longest 45 minutes of my life.

Oh my.

Everything You Need to Know From a Siggy

I got an email the other day. The signature at the bottom had one of those little pictures, it looked like this…



Yup, some kind of fairy thing doing something weird with a bird. Um, OK.

I have never been a big fan of fairies (they give me the heebeegeebees), but I think birds are pretty much ok – except Canadian geese. Will someone please call Canada and ask them to come get their geese, yeah, they are crapping all over America. It’s never good when your animals crap in someone else’s yard. Nothing good can come of that.

Anyhow, I think birds are ok so I was a bit disturbed by the fairy molesting the bird.

I suppose email signatures are supposed to tell people a little bit about the sender. What exactly am I supposed to conclude about someone that puts this on their signature? That they like fairies that engage in questionable interactions with birds?

I mean other signatures I can figure out. Like when someone puts P.E. after their name, I know that means that they wear glasses, part their hair to the right, and see themselves as having superior intellect. Or when someone puts Ph.D. after their name I know that they are a person that enjoyed going to college just a little too much – or maybe they are a person that wanted to be called doctor without having to look at guts and stuff. Someone that puts M.S. after their name is someone that hasn’t finished their Ph.D. yet. And putting B.S. after your name – well, that is just that. Its kind of like putting a Calvin pissing window sticker in your car.

Those things I can understand, but a fairy and a finch? What the hell does that mean?

I decided to zoom in a little bit, you know, to get a better look.



Turns out that fairies are kind of pixilated. Pixilated, but clearly annoyed by me zooming in. Seriously, look, that bird is giving me the stink eye. Jeesh, I mean I was doing it in his best interest Apparently he likes to be corrupted - go figure.

Whatever. I still don't know what the hell he is doing in a signature.

Sore-Ass Gifting

I think it goes something like this…

Relative 1 - ‘Ah man, I still have to get something for Mike for Christmas – nuts!’
Relative 2 – ‘I think he likes bike riding, maybe you could get him something for that.’
Relative 1 – ‘I think you are right. He does ride his bike too much.’
Relative 2 – ‘Maybe you could get him one of those huge bike seats so his butt is comfortable while he rides.’
Relative 1 – ‘Yes, he is a sore-ass. Maybe that would make him a bit less angry?’

So yeah, then on Christmas I role out and unwrap some huge seat or other device contrived to make my ass a little less sore. I don’t think its working. What do you think?

It ain’t that I am ungrateful, really, I am just misunderstood. Misunderstood because I am a cyclist.

I guess everyone has ridden bike before, and all that 90% of those people remember about it is that if they spent more than a halfy in the saddle it tweaked their bits. And if tweaked bits does anything, it creates compassion for other people with tweaked bits. Hence, the huge bicycle seat market. I mean the market for huge bicycle seats, not that you can make a load of money selling bike seats – which actually I think you can, but that’s beside the point.

Anyhow, tweaked bits = compassion = sore-ass gifting.

I think if you use the word ‘anyhow’ more than once a day it may mean you have A.D.D.

Yeah, anyhow, people that don’t ride bikes a lot just don’t get it.

I have tried to explain it before but it just doesn’t get through. You know, I tell people about chamois and how padding that moves with your body is better than padding that rubs against your bits. Then they walk away with the impression that I have some type of European antelope in my shorts that protects my bits from getting tweaked. Because, you know, a chamois is an antelope right? And then they conclude that a big ass seat is surely better than having a small antelope in their shorts so they buy you the seat for Christmas thinking they saved you from the discomfort of an antelope in the shorts.



Maybe we should call it a pad instead of a chamois. That might help.

I got these this year to protect me from antelope in my shorts. I know you are jealous. Maybe I will rock one during the Jason Broome TT – that would be nice.



So rest assured everyone, between these bad boys and the antelope my bits will not likely be tweaked and I will surely become somewhat less of a sore-ass.

On the (Band)Wagon

I gotta say, I picked a helluva time to get on the wagon. What with all the parties, celebrations, public displays of affection, and oh yeah – the Fiesta Bowl. I know it won’t be easy, but I made it my New Years resolution to not hate BSU football so much.

Don’t get me wrong, there will be no car flags in my future – I am just going to try not to hate BSU so much. And honestly, I don’t really hate BSU, I think their football team is pretty good, their coach in first class, and the school is much better than when I went to school there – it’s just the narrow minded fans that make me nuts.

So yeah, I am not going to make fun of the guy with 8 car flags. I am not going to hate on the dude with 13 bronco window stickers and 5 bronco magnets. I am not going to ridicule to people with blue and orange underwear. I am not going to paint my neighbors bronco rock black and gold. I will not continue to heckle narrow minded claims to national championships using BSU math.

Wait a minute. Maybe I better clarify. I am going to try not to do all that stuff.

Also, I am still reserving the right to make fun of the donkey who painted his house and fence blue/orange and made his front yard into a football field. That just ain’t right.

Ok, that’s that…

Excuse me.

I just threw up in my mouth.

Anyhow, go Broncos.

If the weather gets better and I can consistently ride my bike outside I think I will make it through this. Otherwise, well, otherwise.

Oh yeah. I am also resolving to make my blog about cycling at least some of the time. That would be novel.

Happy Fiesta Bowl Day everybody.