My First Stalker

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

You know, because if you write sometimes offensive stuff and put it on the internet you are bound to piss someone off eventually. There was that incident a while back where I got banned for a few weeks, but I never thought that I would have a real, live stalker.

Well, I am pretty sure that I do now.

I woke up early Saturday morning to the sound of him circling the block like 5 times. I gotta say I was a little bit miffed. I mean, if you want to stalk me fine, but can you at least do it quietly? I only have so many chances to sleep in and there you were ruining it.

Bastard. Get a life.

So yeah, there he is circling, and circling fairly quickly I might add. I knew it was a guy because, well, girls sound different. It went something like this…

quack, quack, quack, quack, quack

quack, quack, quack, quack, quack

quack, quack, quack, quack, quack

quack, quack, quack, quack, quack

quack, quack, quack, quack, quack

Finally the little crapper must have gotten tired and went away, but I had a feeling I would see him again.

So yesterday one of our toilets broke. The cheesy plastic arm thing that connects to the cheesy plastic flusher handle on one side, and the cheesy little metal chain on the other side snapped – so I had to get a new flusher lever and plastic arm thing. Lowe’s had several varieties, but they all had one thing in common – the cheesy plastic arm thingy. Why the hell would you make a nice flusher handle out of metal or wood or something, then attach it to a cheesy plastic arm thingy that will need to be replaced in 5 years – and oh, by the way, is not sold separately. Yeah, it’s a toilet flusher racket. They got you by the poo.

Anyhow, when I got back home – there he was waiting in the neighbors yard. See, and you thought all that toilet story was irrelevant. I would have been nervous, but you know, he doesn’t even have opposable thumbs. He is a duck. I am pretty sure he is the duck I wrote about here. I mean, it looks exactly like him.

He is probably pissed because all of the geese read my blog, they saw how nice it is for waterfowl here in Boise, then came and took over the joint. That’s what I am thinking.

He was waiting for me this morning…



That’s him on the neighbors roof. Hopefully I don’t get arrested for taking a picture of the neighbors bathroom window. That would be awkward.
Duck or not, it was disconcerting to see him there waiting.

It’s ok though. I have a plan, I am going to get one of those plywood coyotes.

Asphalt Fishing

My advancing age made itself disturbingly clear over the weekend.

It started on Friday when I played hooky from work and went skiing with a friend. It was the first time in like 15 years that I deliberately skied off trail so much. I dropped off a cornice, went off some jumps, whacked some bushes, and even threw in a face plant.

I knew I didn’t have my ‘A’ game anymore when I had to think about dropping off a cornice. I knew my skills had diminished when I found myself skiing in the back seat a few times. Not even my wreck was very good. I mean, in the old days when I wrecked I would be going so fast that I would tumble down the hill a ways – and more often than not, ski out of it.

This time I just kind of piled up on my head. Like a turd. A big snowy turd.

The fact that I was relieved I didn’t hurt anything when I fell was also indicative of my age. I think my skiing age was about 70.

I had fun though. At least until I got up to go on my cycling team ride on Saturday. Holly crap. Did you know that there are muscles in your butt? Apparently in the backs of your legs too. And speaking of backs, apparently there are some muscles in there too. Yeah, I never notice those things till they are sore.

So I didn’t feel so good during the ride. Just kind of waddled through it, duck style.

Speaking of waddling, why the hell can’t geese fly to the other side of the road?

Near the end of the ride, Johnny Atmos, Keeb’s and myself saw a couple fishing in a parking lot off Morris Hill. You don’t see that every day. Fishing on asphalt. Even more interesting is the fact that they seemed to be catching a wiener dog.
I pretty surprised. I mean, I always figured a wiener dog would fight more like a bass, but this one seemed to use more of a sucker fish technique. Or maybe a squawfish, err, northern pike minnow technique.

I know it’s hard to believe. You know, that a wiener dog fights like a sucker.

John told me I should turn around and get a picture, but that’s how tired I felt. Just too tired to photograph wiener dog fishing.

You won’t believe this, but down the road about a block – there were more people parking lot fishing in a different parking lot. I didn’t see any fish on. Or wiener dogs.

Must have been one of those parking lot fishing tournaments or something.

It got worse, Sunday when I went to Lowes Home Improvement Warehouse I had the store employee cut my particle board to the desired dimensions. Yup, so old that I passed up a chance to use my power tools. I did rally a little later and cut a bunch of crap with my saws-all. I will never be too old to saws-all.

To cap it off, I watched Rambo on Sunday night. Not the one where the young-ish Rambo goes around killing red neck cops. Or the one where the middle aged Rambo kills Vietnamese and rescues prisoners. Not even the one where the over the hill Rambo goes to Afghanistan and kills Russians. Yeah, I watched the one where the old Rambo goes around and graphically kills miscellaneous Asians.

After Rambo killed about 1,000 guys I decided that the movie was just too gory for me. Too gory? Yup I am old.

Trikking?

So I was rolling back from a nooner yesterday and I - I mean a noon time ride. Yeah, I was on my way back from a noon time ride, a noon time bike ride, when I saw these people rocking down the gb on some of those stand up trike gizmos.

When I say rocking, I mean rocking as in back and forth – you know, the trikes are one of those things that move forward when the rider moves side to side? Like those skate boards that only have 2 wheels? The ones with the wiggly bastards on them?

So yeah, there they are rocking about 4 feet from side to side for every foot they moved forward. I love it when people weave back and forth on the gb.

At least these people weren’t going very fast. I think I saw a guy with a walker pass them. It may have been because of the wind. The headwind was a bitch yesterday.

Anyway, I was able to squeeze past by zigging when they were zagging.

I did a little googling because they surely have a name besides standy uppy trike gizmos right?

Turns out they are called Trikkes. Yup, one k wasn’t enough. Check out the video…



Um, yeah.

Wiggling is for strippers and those guys that hold the clearance signs on sticks – not for propulsion.

I will admit though, it does look kind of fun. Fun until, you know, you hit something. Hit something like this guy who apparently got scared and forgot to wiggle…



“you’re not going to cry are you?” Excellent.

No wiggling? Broken wrist? There goes that guys career as a sign wiggly guy. He had the look too.

Damn, such a waste.

My googlethon also turned up this - which is largely unrelated but just too good not to share. I particularly like the sexy in the city part...



Because what could be sexier than wrestling a 3 wheeled weed wacker through the city.

Watcha Gonna Do

I was out riding the other day and saw a few different fellows riding their time trial bikes while rocking baggies.

Believe me, I can understand the allure of a time trial bike. So sleek, so smooth, and curvy in all the right places. The not so pretty places cleverly hidden where it won’t matter. Yeah, time trial bikes are a lot like… Um, time trial bikes.
So yeah, it doesn’t surprise me when I see people rocking around town on them. I mean, who doesn’t want to be seen with a hot, fast bike.

Besides the fact that they generally are hard to steer, the wheels are delicate, and they can be somewhat uncomfortable to ride they are just perfect for commuting or general riding.

It was the baggies that bothered me. So you go to the shop and buy the sweetest, fastest looking tt bike because, you know, you want to go fast. So there you are hopping on your ‘go fast bike’ just like freaking Fabian Cancellara.

Except for that parachute you are wearing to cover your ass. I am no engineer, but I am thinking your parachute more than cancels the several grand you spent on your bike. You better get a tt helmet. Nothing makes you look cool riding around town like a giant sperm tt helmet.

Not to mention that when you are rocking your parachute, err baggies, on your bike it all kind of blows up, exposing your pasty whiteness all the way up to your bits.
How come whenever I hear a siren I can’t stop myself from singing ‘bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you’. Man that makes me crazy.

Anyway, yeah, your parachute all poofs out and exposes your pasty whiteness and your bits to anyone coming the other way. I really didn’t need to see that bro. I am thinking I would prefer you wear spandex. I am thinking that much exposure may be illegal in Boise.

That is, unless you are wearing pasties. I think then it is ok.

Anthropomorphism Gone Wild

So there is this local bike racer, Erik Slack doing some bike racing in Europe this summer. All I really know about Erik is that he used to beat me in cat 4/5 and cat 3 bike races before he moved up. That, and he bitched at me once for riding too fast on a training ride when he stopped to pee, so he had to pedal harder than he wanted to catch up.

So yeah, I don't really know the dude - but I am living vicariously by reading his blog while he is in Europe. The other day he showed a picture beverage that they drink over there - it was called Orangina.

Of course, you know, me having the maturity of a 12 year old read it as Orangina instead of Orangina. You know what I mean. You did it too. You know you did.

I'm like WTF? A little google action later and I come across this...



I have seen a lot of deer before, but never, ever, like that one. Holy crap. Its like anthropomorphism gone wild. Is that bambi's mom?

So a little more looking and this comes up...



I know, I should have stopped at the deer. Thank God for fig leaves - I have no desire to see were-bear bits. Oh man. And I thought that the little Microsoft Office paper clip guy freaked my out when it winked. Whoa. Wrong on so many levels.

If you are feeling brave check this out...



For some reason I keep thinking of Montana when I see these. I don't know.

I do know if I ever stumble across a some Orangina it's gonna be hard not to try it.

Various Accouterments

A guy at work rode his bike in today and parked it in the office. He calls it the T-wreck. I won't comment about that, but one thing did catch my eye...



I gotta say, I have never seen a bike with one of those before. And wearing a rasta hat nonetheless.

This bike is a little less flaccid, but also interesting...



Notice he is rocking some ape hanger handlebars that he stole off some kids bike. And the brake cables which have gone beyond flaccid and are downright floppy. You could jump rope with those bad boys - or maybe make a lasso.

You probably also noticed the mountain bike bar ends that he has thrown in for a little bit of extra maneuvering awkwardness - but did you notice he is rocking his front fork backwards? Yeah baby, this guy knows how to roll.

How about the road front wheel and the mountain back wheel. At least he has a reflector, you know, for safety.

It must be bitch'n when he turns and the front tire rubs the frame.

Sorry about the cracked windshield. Need to get that fixed - it's gonna distract Hitlers view soon.

And yes, I did have to look up how to spell accouterments.

Slammer 2010: If Only I Had a Lucky Chamois

I threw away my lucky underwear the other day. They were worn out. I mean, they weren't out of luck - just a bit threadbare. There might have been a little hole. Or maybe two. But they were still lucky.

It took exactly one day to regret throwing out the lucky underwear. The dinner I ate Saturday just didn't agree with me. Made my gut pretty much blew up. I may as well have pitched a tent in the bathroom.

That kind of crap just doesn't happen when you are rocking your lucky underwear.

Yeah, I was feeling stellar for my bike race Sunday. I only had to visit the porta potty twice before the start. It was the first time I ever carried toilet paper in my jersey pocket.

The race is called the slammer. I have raced in it maybe the last six years. This was the first year that I figured out that maybe its called the slammer because you race past the prison like 4 times. I'm not the quickest.

I started at the front but quickly moved to the back, because, you know, it would be easier to peel off from there if I had to go. About a mile in I started looking for good places on the side of the road. About 10 miles in I checked my jersey pocket to see if my toilet paper was still there.

That was about the time Matt Woodruff rolled off the front. I don’t really think it was an attack, I think everyone just watched him ride away. Yeah, well, that turned out to be a mistake – but I had bigger problems to worry about.

There are a lot of houses on Cloverdale. It’s a good thing that the 10 or so TUMS that I downed before the start seemed to be working a bit.

About 20 miles in I am thinking that I made one lap, maybe I can make another. I mean, I already outlasted Cody Caldera who seemed to abandon when he saw some friends on the side of the road. Then my stomach gurgled I think I may have passed gas. It’s ok, I was at the back remember.

Sorry wheel car guy.

So I am pretty sure it was a dry one, because it still felt pretty normal down there. I know a guy who told me a story about having a little accident on his chamois during a race once. I am pretty sure it must be true – why would you make that up? Come to think of it, it is the same guy that sells used shorts on eBay.

40 miles in. I think that the gels I had been downing must be holding my stomach contents together in a little Gu ball of hate. I could feel it being angry in there. The good news was that it was content being angry in there and didn’t need to be angry somewhere else.

That Woodruff guy was still out there. You have to be crazy or good to pull that off. Or maybe both. Kurt Holzer was turning himself inside out chasing. I was just busy trying to keep my insides in. Chris Berry worked a lot too. The last few laps Kristo Jorgenson and Angelo Roman did too.

I accidentally took a pull once, except no one was getting pulled. So I am riding along thinking it would be nice if someone pulled through and I look back and no one is there. Nice. Whine, whine, whine about no one working then let me just noodle away off the front. It isn’t like I was going fast or anything – I mean I have got a little Gu ball of hate in my gut. Seriously, I am not fast without a stomach ball of hate – but with one? Ridiculous.

About mile 50 I started to think I might hang on. About mile 59 I am pretty sure I can. At one km to go I am almost positive I can finish the race without stopping for a grunter.

So yeah, that’s how it went down. Here is what I learned...

Matt Woodruff can apparently ride by himself pretty quickly for a long damn time. Jake Turner had shiny legs. Derek Brown has a tattoo on his calf and I still don’t know what it is. You look slimmer if you wear cycling clothes in a bigger size because it negates that ‘tube of biscuits’ look. And one of those Broken Spoke guys needs a pair of bibs or a bigger jersey because his back was sticking out the entire race and it was kind of pasty. Can you tell I spent the whole day in back?

I have got to go find some new lucky underwear.

Number 3

So my GPS, Rico, started working again the other day.

It seems that I may have been a bit premature in declaring the electronics rapture. It was more like an electronics sabbatical.

Speaking of coming back to life I saw Dale Earnhardt on my way home yesterday…

So there I was,

(you have to start all stories with ‘so there I was’ – in case you didn’t know)

So yeah, there I was, rolling home down Chinden through GC. Just me and Hitler. I see the number 3 Monte Carlo in front of me. Whoa, its not every day you see Dale Earnhardt. He was rocking Elmore County plates.

That answers that question.

You know, the one about where you go if weren’t such a good person in life.
Not to pass judgment on Dale Earnhardt mind you, but I just can’t imagine that Mountain Home is in heaven. Or Glenns Ferry for that matter.

Anyhow, I know I have to get a picture or no one will believe me. So I look to make a move to the outside – there’s no room, but I did notice that he has been “rubb’n” some other cars on that side. I’m not surprised, because, you know, if you ain’t rubb’n you ain’t rac’n.

After looking outside I go inside. I learned that from Cole Trickle in "Days of Thunder". Not to be confused with the real car racer Dick Trickle.

Or actually maybe it was Ricky Bobby in "Talledega Nights". Yeah, I think it was Ricky Bobby.

There I am inside and I pull up alongside to take pictures. I’m a little nervous you know – because he is The Intimidator. So here it is. I know the picture sucks but it’s hard to take pictures when you are racing.





Nice. And I thought the ‘rest in peace #3’ stickers were too much.

Electronic Jesus

About a week ago I was doing some laundry and kept hearing a thudding sound from the dryer. It thudded for like 10 minutes before I decided it wasn’t really thuderific and was more or less annoying. So I roll over to the dryer for a look-see.

The first thing I saw were the headphones from my iPod snaking around in my clothes. Uh-oh. This won’t be good. In fact, this may be significantly below average. Indeed, it may even be the day the music died.

So I leisurely rifle my way through my warm and fresh smelling underwear, socks, hoodies, and levis. Whoop, there it is. My old school 30g video iPod.

That stuff under the screen that looks like water is probably a bad sign.

I know from past experience with cell phones that trying to turn wet electronics on is probably a bad option. Nonetheless, I really want to try it. I mean really. Somehow I resist my urge to push the button and instead beat my head against the wall.

While I am beating my head against the wall my wife does some internet research and concludes that the thing to do is jamb it in a container of rice. The iPod, not my head. So I jamb it in a container of rice.

I didn’t push the button for a whole week. That’s pretty good for me, I mean, self restraint isn’t one of my strong points.

So after a week I collapse and push the button. Holy rapture! It’s like an electronic Jesus back from the dead! Emerging from its rice cave in a new glory – because, you know, an iPod is cool, but an iPod back from death? Well that’s hors categorie cool.

All the potty words were even removed from my music!

Well, actually, no. No, I made that part up. The potty words remained intact. All of them. Which really is pretty remarkable.

So yeah, that rocked. I basked in the glory for an entire night. The reality of the rapture struck the next day when I went for a bike ride. I saddled up and turned on the Garmin. Then I turned on the Garmin. One more time I turned on the Garmin. Son of a bitch. Apparently its little electronic gps soul got sucked up when my iPod (elmPod) came back.

At least the Garmin is still under warranty. I hope the warranty covers electronic rapture.

Trigonometry

So I rode my bike 4 hours in the rain on last Saturday. That's all I have to say about that, because I know no one cares. If you do, here are the details...

I got wet.

A little later Saturday, on my way to parent exploitation day at the fairgrounds (kids fair), I saw this dude.



I know its not a good picture, but give me a break, its hard to drive and take pictures at the same time. I labeled it to assist you.

I gotta say, I was perplexed. I mean, you know what I think about baggies over tights, right? Yeah well, this dude is the cosine of baggies over tights - somehow he managed tights over baggies.

Not just any tights, mind you. Yeah this guy is going all out by rocking the always dangerous gray tights. Inconceivable. Note, he is also styling the always attractive camelsback while riding his road bike - again quite edgy.

So I imagine he is getting dressed for his ride and he is thinking - 'it's a little cold out there today, I better cover up my sticks'. But then he thinks, 'but if I wear baggies no one will be able to see my sweet butt rocking in these stylish gray shorts'. Then light bulb! 'I know, I will rock them both. I know it's bad to wear baggies over tights, but...'

Yeah so he gets dressed and rolls down to McD's. An always popular roadie destination.

Yes. He stopped there. Locked his bike to a light pole. Then the light changed, I had to go be exploited.

Sassafras and Other Crap

Saw this in the paper last week…



Yeah, I know. I thought the same thing. Little effer.

Note, out of respect to his cause I used a politically correct version of the swear word – because, you know, I am politically correct as hell.

Yup, there I am, busy not swearing, when a friend sends me this…



WTF? I mean sassafras, I meant to say sassafras. That’s what the kid wants me to say instead of potty words. Sassafras. I am all about sassafras, let me tell you.

Gossshhhh, what the heck is that thing? Look at me, I’m Napoleon Dynamite.

Is that a three legged chicken? Or is it a cow giving birth? I saw that once, a cow giving birth, it was pretty similar to that picture. Is it a beaver? I especially like that pointy beak, and the erotic white eye. That’s an eye right? I don't even want to know what happens if you pull that handle.

The subject of the email was something like ‘So much of a fail, it’s a success’. And how! That’s some scary sassafras there boy. Not seeing any geese in the background of that one, eh?

What I am seeing in the background is a giant BSU sign that says ‘Excellence’. Yeah, I would say something about that – but that may break my resolution for this year. You remember, something about me not to be a BSU hater? Yeah, I won’t even imply anything. Yup, go Broncos – that’s me.

Good times.

I Don't Hang Out at Coffee Shops Either

Somebody told me once that beauty is only skin deep.

I’m just saying.

Speaking of things that are ugly on the inside I took my son to McDonalds the other day.

Yes. Sometimes I go to McDonalds. And that’s ok.

(Sometimes I enjoy watching TV. That’s ok too. Sometimes I buy stuff at WalMart. Yes, that’s ok as well. I don’t like the Toyota Prius, I didn’t even like it before they started having problems stopping. Oh yeah, and that’s ok. Not liking Toyota Prius is ok. I also don’t like the city bus, in fact I dislike them. They get in the way when I am driving with Hitler, and they somehow sneak up behind me when I am on my bike. I don’t really like Jack Johnson, but I do like Rob Zombie. And that’s ok. I don’t hate Marilyn Manson either. I’m not sure if that is ok or not.
Now that I have made myself a social leper, I may as well admit that I don’t belong to the Co-Op. I do have an REI membership however. And that’s ok. The only thing I like about WinCo is their pizza. And that’s ok. Finally, I don’t like to spend my free time drinking beer at the Bitter Creek Ale House, or the Table Rock Brew Pub. And that’s ok.)

So anyway, I am rocking through the McD’s drive-through and I notice the guy in front of us is paying with change he is digging out of the cup holder, and the cracks in his seat. That’s a little annoying, you know, because it takes for freaking ever. Mix in some plastic bro – my son wants his freaking happy meal.

About the time I am thinking that I would pay for his food if he just got the hell out of the way I notice that the dude is wearing a surgical glove. Not two gloves mind you, just one. I’m thinking, well yeah, those cup holders can get pretty grungy. But I think this guy is afraid of actual physical contact with the McD’s employee.

Dude slips the glove off after payment, but I notice is extremely careful not to make contact when he receives his food bag. Whoa, you don’t see that very often. Weird. I think I would be more concerned about what is going on inside, than, you know, the drive through attendants hands.

But that’s just me.