Remarkably Unremarkable

My bicycle commute continues to be remarkably unremarkable. I hate to say it, but it is even bordering on the mundane. What the hell.

That’s it.

What the hell.

I have been seeing a lot of people rocking the gb with faces that look like this…



Some of them are in the process of discovering that the cute 50 pound cruiser bike they bought isn’t the most efficient choice for commuting. Its hard to look cute with a look like this on your face.

Others, well others are training hard for the Tour de France. Because, you know, the gb is the best place for training. I almost got taken out the by one the other day, I am pretty sure it was Lance Armstrong – because he was sporting a US Postal kit. Yeah, helps you understand why the Bike Nazi hates dudes that wear spandex.

Speaking of US Postal, apparently they were all doping. Go figure. Them, everyone in the NFL, professional wrestling, and Rush Limbaugh. Everyone except Tyler Hamilton – he has bits of a long lost twin inside him.

Note to Tyler, now would be the time to come clean and pile on.

I have been seeing this guy a bunch lately…



I don’t know if you can tell by the picture but dude always looks like his body wants to go left, but his bike wants to go straight. I am pretty sure he is a Republican, like Vaughn Ward – who wants to go left so bad that he steals Obama speeches – but keeps being carried to the right.



Too bad that guy lost the other day.

Right. Anyway. I call him the sidewinder. The guy on the bike, not Vaughn Ward. And not to his face, mind you – just in my head. I say to myself “self, there is that sidewinder guy again”. I call Vaughn Ward something different.

Strangely, I know sidewinder guy in a Kevin Bacon sort of way. We used to work in the same place and have some mutual friends. His name is, uh, sidewinder guy.

Ugh, here is hoping that I see something strange and wonderful soon.

Here We Go Again

So at the end of last cycling season I resigned from all of my bike racer herding responsibilities with my bike club. It seems that bike racers are a bit like cats, and as you may know I don't like cats, and I especially don't like herding them.

As part of giving up cat herding responsibilities I also gave up organizing a team for the Lyle Pearson 200. I have continued to race my bike this year, I am just not herding. And, as luck would have it, someone else invited me to be on their LP200 team.

Its coming up soon you know, the LP200. I am not sure how it is gonna go. See when I was doing the herding the first thing I did was choose 3 other riders that were at least 3 times better than me. It usually worked out pretty good, I let someone else ride all the hard sections - and just followed someone else in the easy sections. I was golden.

Well this year the fellows I am riding with are only 1.5 to 2 times better than me. I am a bit afraid that I may have to ride up a hill or otherwise suffer during this race. That could suck.

I am not too worried though, because what these guys lack in betterness than me they more than make up for in cool and funkiness. Yeah, they are cool and funky and that makes for a cool and funky time. I am riding with Johnny Atmos, WC, and Stinky.

Because there has to be a stinky in every group.

I just made that up.

I may come up with something better later. Two hundred miles is a long freak'n ways to ride bikes.

Worst. Week. Ever.

Nuts. This could possibly be the worst week ever.

First, convicted human trafficker , err, illegal transport arranger, Laura Silsby makes her virtuous return to Boise confident that she has been delivered by God.

Then comes the announcement that political monkey Sarah Palin is coming to town in support of Vaughn Ward. Rock on. Maybe she can teach him to write other politicians position statements on his hand instead of on his website.

Yeah, those two were gems for me – and that was just Tuesday.

So Wednesday I see this little symbol in the weather forecast…



Seriously? Snow? It’s almost effing June. Ugh, the climate change thing is turning out to be a real bitch.

Also Wednesday I start hearing rumblings about a Floyd Landis doping-palooza.

Thursday began the full blown Flandis doping-palooza, implicating pretty much anyone that good ‘ol Floyd ever rode with. Not that I think that most of it isn’t true – because most of it probably is. It just would have meant more if he would have said it before he stole money from people to defend his lies – and oh yeah outed Greg LeMond as a child abuse victim. Wanker.

That’s not even the half of it. Thursday I rocked non-matching socks the entire day. I didn’t even notice until I got back from a noon time ride. Classy.

Well, I guess looking on the bright side…

Laura Silsby can get a made for TV movie deal, and pay some of the many people she owes money to.

Sarah Palin, well I am glad that she is speaking in Boise – rather than as an elected official in D.C. – there is that.

The weather is the weather, and the weather will do what the weather does. Deal with it.

We know that the Tour of California has officially arrived because it has been used as a platform for doping allegations – just like all the other big races.

We are one step closer to seeing Floyd Landis playing Kid Rock covers at the county fair.

And at least my socks were similar in color. Sort of.

Oh yeah, then there was the news about scientist creating a living organism. I vote for flying monkeys next.

Its Friday.

Sometimes I Feel Like...

Ever get caught with your eyes wandering? Um yeah, me either.

Here is a rare double googly from the Giro introductions...



I wonder if David Millar has got the Rockwell feeling.

It Ain't What it Used to Be

I am a little disappointed. I started riding my bike to work more consistently a few weeks ago and I haven’t seen anything spectacularly strange. I think I may have lost my bike commuting mojo. It may be because I have been riding my racing bike to work.

Nothing says wanker, and scares off spectacularly strange events like riding an expensive bike to work on the gb. I normally ride my beater commuter bike to work, but see, I have three bikes and only about 2.5 bikes worth of bike bits – and right now the commuterpig is on the short end of the bit supply. Perhaps I will have to purchase some more bike bits. I never have enough bits.

Anyhow, I have seen the regulars – you know, double wide stroller lady, extendo leash dog walker guy, and too cool to move over gangsta hoodlums – but nothing great. The closest I have seen to greatness recently was no hands guy.

I really hate no hands guy. Rocking down the gb with an air of superiority because he has mastered the rocket science that is riding your bike with no hands. I can imagine meeting this guy in some social setting, he finds out you like to ride bikes, and he lets loose with – “ya know, I can ride with no hands”. Um, really?

It’s pretty hard you know. You have to let go of the handlebars and sit up. No half assed sitting up – then you will wreck, you need to sit up all the way. You steer the bike with your hips – just like you do when you have your hands on the bars, you just don’t notice it so much.
Great, now you can be no hands guy too.

It’s not that I don’t like no hands riding, I mean there is a place for it, but that place is not on a busy gb. And it’s not that there is no purpose for no hands riding, there is, but that purpose is not to stroke your ego. Yup, no hands riding was invented for flying the double eagle – or this, which according to a friend is the British equivalent.



That’s not exactly true. Actually he said it means “shove that up your arse and smoke it you bunch of wheel-sucking bastards.” But you get the idea.

Sorry, I just wanted to put that picture on my blog.

No hands guy reminds me of high school football guy. The guy that thinks he is great at everything because, you know, he played high school football?

Anyhow, I saw no hands guy texting on the gb. Never seen texting and riding before. At least he had a reason to ride no hands other than to stroke his ego. Nonetheless, if you are blasting out a text while operating a moving vehicle you may be an asshat.

Would it be wrong of me to accidentally brush no hands guys handlebars while going past?

Right Field May Have Been Better

I have an aversion to public restrooms. And by public, I mean restrooms that aren’t in my house or at my office. I mean, the one at work is public and all, but you kind of get used to it after a while – even that little piece of button that has been stuck to the floor in there for the past five years.

I think everyone has it. The aversion, not the piece of button. I mean, if you like public restrooms you’re not all there are you.

It could have been there longer. The button, not the aversion. I mean it was there when I started working in this building like 5 years ago. At least I know if I lose something on the floor the janitor won’t pick it up.

So anyhow, it was much to my chagrin the other day when I was out to dinner that I had to use the public restroom. It wasn’t that I really needed to go, I mean really needed to go – it’s just that I was going to coach my sons baseball game after dinner, and going to the bathroom there would be really unsavory.

Some kid - “Hey what is coach doing in right field”

My son – “Looks like number two”

Yeah, that would be bad so I hit the restroom at the Red Robin. I like the Red Robin. I went in stall number 2 – it looked the safest. So there I am, minding my own business. I look over on the tp dispenser and I see this…



Nothing goes together like religious propaganda and pooping. I’m not really sure, but I don’t think this is what Jesus had in mind when he said go ye forth and spread the message. I’m just saying. I don’t think putting pamphlets in bathrooms is the path to heaven, but I have been wrong before.

Speaking of heaven, I did read the booklet and found – much as I had suspected- that heaven is a place just a little to the left of where you are now.



Yup, as you can see he moved to the right - didn't end so well. You go to the left and...

That’s all I have to say about that.

I am tempted, however, to go to church just so I can stand up and say that I found Jesus in the bathroom stall at Red Robin. You know, because you don’t see that every Sunday.

Unemployment is a Bitch

A friend sent me this yesterday…



I know it is tough to read so I will highlight it for you:

-Farm hand job, as opposed, I guess, to a suburban hand job.
-30-50 hrs per week. Wow, that’s a lot of hand jobbing.
-Just about anything you need done…
-All for a Fall Guy truck or miscellaneous off road non-sense.

I had heard that there was stuff like this advertised on craigslist, but, you know, had never actually seen it before.

Right. I think a little summer school would be better.

Should I be disturbed that people think of me when they read about farm hand jobs?

Oh yeah, and by the way – your phone needs to be charged.

Of Badassedness

I have a new favorite professional cyclist. My favorite used to be Chechu Rubiera because of his selflessness and badassedness. Well, my new favorite is Ben Day. He makes Chechu look like a twinkie.

See, I read this article on VeloNews the other day called “Ben Day’s Unwanted Passenger”. It was probably the best thing I have ever read on VeloNews. I mean, besides the junk they put there on April first right?

Yeah, Mr. Day raised and nurtured a tapeworm and didn’t even know it. That’s pretty badass. What is more badass is that he harvested it himself. You gotta be tough to do that, then refer to the event like this…

“I had a dangler,” Day said. “I had to pull it out. It was three or four feet long, at least…”

I bet that was probably the first time ever that someone referred to a tapeworm as a dangler. Not that he has to call it a dangler because he named it William. If you pull a tapeworm out of your bum then name it you are a pretty sturdy dude. I think anyway.

Then he proved his fortitude by going for a training ride. Then racing the Tour of Gila. All while leaking out both ends.

Of course he is Australian. I’m not sure, but from what I have seen and heard Australians are the toughest bastards on the planet. Yup, them and the guy that cut off his arm when he got trapped in the canyon in Utah. But then, he didn’t have a tapeworm.

Anyhow, yeah, Ben Day – my new favorite cyclist.

Speaking of badass someone implied a while back that my fb profile pick makes me look like I would fit in well in the alternative lifestyle district in The City. You know, THE City, San Francisco. Yeah, I did read that.

My first thought was that you probably shouldn’t be able to post on fb or twitter at 1 a.m. from a bar on your phone. Nothing good can come from that. There should be an app for that.

Ultimately though, I decided I am good with that. I mean, its not how I role, but yeah, I am a sexy bitch. Yeah, I guess if I fit in with the alternative lifestyle crowd I guess I am ok with that.

I’m ok with it, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be retribution – because, you know, that is how I role. I am just waiting…

In the Rain

You may recall that a few weeks ago I had my first stalker, and that, well, that stalker was duck. An angry duck. Yeah, the little bastard harassed me for like a week.

Well, turns out maybe I wasn’t being stalked after all. When I went out to drive to work yesterday (no, not with Hitler – with my son, Disco) there was this hen mallard with a bunch of little chicks coming out of my shrubbery. I would have taken a picture, but I couldn't find my phonera.

I mean the shrubbery in my yard. It probably isn’t good when the shrubbery in your yard is so thick that a duck can hide there for a few weeks and you never notice it.

Well yeah, anyway the drake (the boy duck) – in true duck fashion, was long gone. He had better things to do that raise kids. Like they say, ‘lord love a duck’.

He made up the name himself. My son, not the duck. I came home one day and he said, ‘hi dad, it’s me, Disco’. He was 4 then, but I still call him Disco sometimes.

I took it as a sign that spring is still upon us. The ducks were a sign, not my son naming himself Disco.

Not that I needed any reminders of spring. I mean, yesterday I rode my bike in the rain for the first time since, well, the day before. I decided that the crappy thing about spring is that it is inconsistent. One day its nice out, and the next day it sucks. Or sometimes it sucks for entire weeks with one or two good days in between. At least in the winter you know the weather is going to suck and you can make adjustments, but you can’t adjust for inconsistency.

As if the ducks and the inconsistency weren’t enough I saw that the plywood coyotes have begun their annual migration back to the high country, where I assume they come from. Yeah, I was out riding and saw this group engaging in a little coyote beach play on their way up the canyon.

Its not every day that you see a pack, err, bunk of plywood coyotes engaging in beach play. In the rain.