Phlebotomy Lobotomy

Hindsight sucks. I hate it when something bad happens and I can look back and see a string of bad decisions that ultimately led to the bad outcome. I hear that sometimes you can learn from it, but I apparently haven’t perfected that yet.

Today was bleeding day at work. We have them 4 times a year. I usually go bleed when I feel like I can spare a few cells. Today was one of those days. No bike races for a few weeks, feeling pretty good – may as well make a deposit in the bank of good karma. I kind of think that you should give as much as you get. So far I am up a couple units (3 received, 5 given) but I have been in some sketchy bike races lately so being a little ahead is good right?

When I rolled into work the phlebotomist’s were out smoking behind the building. That was the first clue. Why can’t I ever listen to the first clue? Appointment time comes and I go down to the bleeding room. I noticed that the head bleeder lady was the beginner bleeder lady from the last time I gave blood. That’s not good.

Why can’t I ever listen to the second clue? So I do the questionnaire. It asks like eight times whether I have taken any HGH, testosterone, insulin, and miscellaneous other performance enhancing drugs. Jeesh people, do I look like Floyd Landis? Just because I ride a bike doesn’t mean I cheat.

They take my blood pressure. 94/60. Pulse is like 50. I’m no doctor but I’m thinking if I give blood it will go down from there – and that’s probably not good. Probably clue number 3, but I figured they wouldn’t let me do it if the numbers weren’t good, right. Bloody hell, I should really listen.

They had to call in the head bleeder lady to find the vein. The head bleeder lady that was the rookie bleeder lady last time. You know, the one that had to wiggle the needle around to get it in the vein. I almost listened to this one. Clue number 4. I almost made a run for it. I actually looked at the door, but I couldn’t pull it off.

I bled a bit slow. Clue number 5, but it’s too late now.

I finally bleed out my unit. I’ve got to move it, move it (watched Madagascar while I bled). I get up and walk to the recovery table where the treats are. Whoa, a little light headed. I’ll just sit here a while. I woke up all flopped over to the left – I always thought that I leaned a little left, and this confirms it. I feel pretty good about that. On the other hand the bleeders may have noticed sooner if I leaned to the right. I am just saying. It is Idaho.

So yeah. I camp out on the padded table where they keep the people that aren’t very good bleeders for a while. I eat, then I eat some more, then I drink and drink some more. I was there like an hour and a half from when I got there.
The whole time I am thinking to myself ‘Self, what kind of phlebotomist in their right mind is a smoker’? One with a phlebotomy lobotomy, that kind.

Feeling significantly below average. Left work early. Screw karma, I want my blood back.

Custom Red Eye

The bad news is I am pretty much out of tools. The good news is I am pretty much out of tools. I mean I have a socket wrench and some sockets that I found – but what am I gonna write about that? I do have a big ass screw driver that I found too, but the only interesting thing about that is how I got back home without impaling myself with it – the pockets in cycling jersey’s just aren’t that good for some things. Gel yes. Big ass screw driver? Not so much.

So today’s Wednesday’s tool, I will have to admit, I didn’t really find. Well, didn’t find it on the road. I found pieces of it all over my garage. Here it is, my new fully custom commuter bike. There is way too much awesomeness here to cover in one post, so I will just pick out parts here and there and milk it until I actually find something on the road.

Today’s part is the custom ‘Red Eye of Mordor’ Aheadset. I know, you are thinking I must be a real ‘Lord of the Rings’ dork to have a red eye of Mordor Aheadset. Well you’re right. I am a Lord of the Rings dork. That’s not why I have the headset. I probably have that because the headset bolt was all rusty and shit. I cleaned off the rust, and coated it with some Rust-oleum. It’s red because that is the color I found in the garage. It could have easily been white, or brown, but it’s not. It’s red. The red eye of Mordor. No matter where you sit on the bike it is always looking at you. I know you want one. I guess you can make your own. Yours won’t be as cool as mine.

I just saw this…

Boise Bike Messengers

Bike messengers in downtown Boise. Like all 20 square blocks of it. Dude, push back from the desk and walk your butt across the street and deliver it yourself.

Anyhow, there really are bike messengers in Boise. I don’t know if they are real bike messengers or not. The one dude does have an alley cat spoke card and rides a fixie. On the other hand he also has brakes, and rolls up his pants instead of cutting them off. I don’t know if wearing a helmet is aloud either – you see I have never been to New York City, so I don’t know what a real bike messenger looks like – I am just guessing from what I see on the internet.

That said I am pretty sure the second guy they show isn’t a real bike messenger. I saw his back wheel free-wheeling. I know that isn’t aloud. Poser. At least he gets paid to ride a bike around, which is more than I can say.

I guess the bottom line is that at least two guys in Boise have an excuse for having fixed gear messenger bikes – and one of those doesn’t use one. What are the rest of you people doing?

Not Quite Angry Enough

I just haven’t been feeling it lately. Angry that is.

The family is healthy and happy. I have a job. I like my co-workers. Well actually, that isn’t quite true – I find 2.5 of them mildly irritating. But anyway, I am having fun cycling. I like my all my team mates. Really, pretty much all of them. The Steelers won the Super Bowl. The Lakers beat the Jazz. The Red Sox swept the Yankees. The Red Sox swept the Yankees. Did I mention that the Red Sox beat the Yankees. GW isn't President any more. My wife didn’t have a coronary a minute ago when I told her I needed a $200 bike computer. I made my own new custom commuter bike. Its all good.

My wife does keep whining that she still has twentysomething more days until school is out. Yes, there is that. That kind of pisses me off. I only have twentysomething more YEARS until my summer vacation starts.

But anyway, yeah, not very angry. I hardly even got mad the other day when LBD held the sprinkler wrestling world championships in my back yard.

On my rides recently I haven’t even been the angriest cyclist. That would be Johnny Atmos. In fact, he is so angry that if I had an Angry Cyclist cycling team, he would be the team captain. Captain Angry. It even kind of cracks me up. Maybe laughing at other peoples anger is indicative of my own really deep seated anger. I will have to think about that.

Maybe my new 555 mantra should be ‘Not quite angry enough’ instead of ‘Almost entirely evil’. I don’t know.

On my way out of work today I noticed that someone left their vehicle unlocked with the keys on the dash. It took some effort to keep from starting the engine and locking the doors. Maybe that is a step in the right (wrong) direction. If it would have been one of the 2.5 people who mildly irritate me I probably couldn’t have held back.

Maybe tomorrow I will feel angrier. Lock your cars just in case.

Nothing Good Can Come of This...

I returned home from the Emmett-Roubaix bike race yesterday and was greeted by LBD.

Now I am not the most observant person, but I knew that something wasn’t right from the beginning. I mean little black dog wasn’t really black anymore. More mottled with mud. I don’t remember there being any mud in my backyard. I don’t remember it raining today. Besides, she’s got that ‘I didn’t do it’ look. That means she did it. Nothing good can come of this…

So the race started good. Matt Beeter took a little flyer off the front and by my figuring was up about 50 seconds at the first turn. Nick, Brandon Archibald, and I clogged up the front and watched him ride away. 4 or 5 miles in the Broken Spoke guys got itchy, sqeezed through and chased Matt down. Then the big guys took over at the front and started driving southslope but nothing really broke up – too much headwind for the big fellas to go 40 – thank god.

Got shuffled back and did the yo-yo thing for a while. Fast, slow, fast, slow, left turn, fast, slow, pothole, fast, slow, dog, fast, little hill – sllllooooowwww. Worked my way out on the hill up Little Freezeout, and things were pretty boring for the next 10 miles or so. Before the hill on El Paso I drug Nick to front and pulled everyone up the hill at a mellow pace. Big guys took over on the downhill. They were serious about getting to the dirt first.

Pretty mundane except for the Lost River guy that tried to kill us all by swerving 5 feet across the road in front of everyone. I was a few riders back so don’t really know what that was all about. I am sure he had a reason. There was probably a duck or something. I dropped back a bit while I dug out some aspirin to ward off the heart attack that maneuver was going to cause me.

Road bikes weren’t meant for dirt roads. Some road bikers aren’t made for dirt roads. That’s why it shouldn’t be a surprise that when we hit the dirt road and chaos ensued. Dude’s everywhere. EV-ER-EEE-WHERE. Everywhere except the canal. I have always wanted to see someone go in the canal. Damn it. Maybe next year.

Anyhow, I see Nick riding strong in the dirt. Strong like a butterfly in a hurricane. I slow down a bit so I can help when we get out of the dirt. Don’t slow down too much though - I would bog down and my fat butt would still be stuck there. Waited for Nick and then we scrapped his way back to the group. Tough kid.

Tougher than me. I sat up to wait for Beeter and ride it out. We hooked up with Rob Floth and chased, then we chased some more, and then we chased a little bit more. We were so close, yet so far. They should put warning labels on cycling glasses that say ‘Objects may be further than they actually appear” or ‘Objects not as attainable as they actually appear’. You know, like rearview mirrors.

When we hit the dirt the second time I asked Beeter if he thought the lead group would wait for us on the other side. When I got to the other side I was surprised to see that they did. The women’s non-competitive group. I was excited for a minute.

So I look back when I get out of the dirt. The only one there is Henry Harper, who I passed not far from the end of the dirt. There isn’t anyone else there. I figure everyone else stopped to wash off in the canal, or to get the beer they stashed there. Not one to pass up an opportunity to ride with Henry Harper I wait a bit for him. Now I am golden till the end right? Not so much. Henry flatted.

I think maybe next year I will spectate from a raft in the canal. Drink beers and watch people suffer. If someone goes in I will see it for sure. Maybe I can tempt people in with beer.

Anyhow, solo to the end. Haven’t I been here before? Finished in a stellar 17th place. Nick held on to 2nd in the GC. Good times. Until I got home.

LBD got into a fight with the sprinkler system while I was gone. Not sure who won, but I am pretty sure that I lost.

Maybe 70

I rode my bike to work yesterday for the first time in over a month. I am more than a little disappointed to report that everything was on the mundane side.

I did try the Tour de Garden City on the way home. My first adventure on the green belt section on the south side of the river. It was an interesting change, rolling through run down industrial storage areas, trailer parks, and vacant lots. I felt like an episode of the ‘A-Team’ was about to break out the entire time I rode through.

Maybe that sense of immanent trouble is why all the old guys I saw were carrying sticks. You know, in case Mr. T starts kicking ass while you stroll past at least you have got your stick for self defense. Maybe not though – I have been seeing old guys with sticks a lot lately. On the green belt, in the store, even in my neighborhood..

I know some people might call them canes, but if you don’t need it to walk and just carry it around it is probably just a stick. If you carry it like you might whack someone with it, it may be a ninja stick. There is this old guy in my neighborhood that walks around with a ninja stick. If I walk past with my dog he raises his stick and says ‘aaaiiiiiieeee’ in an old German guy sort of way. I am pretty sure he is a WWII war crimes fugitive – but that’s for another day. So anyway I am pretty sure that he wants to whack my dog, a very intimidating OLD golden retriever that can’t stop smiling and wagging her tail. That kind of makes me want to fight him, so maybe it is good he has a ninja stick.

Saw an old guy at Subway today with a stick. When I walked past he raised it up a little like he was going to whack me. Must have been a ninja stick. I did have my hat on backwards, so I could have been a hoodlum, but Jesus, WTF? I can just imagine he is thinking ‘OMG here comes a 150 pound, leg shaving, spandex wearing, bike riding, sandwich eating biker freak – he’s got his hat on backwards! He probably wants to mug me! Good thing I’ve got my ninja stick!”

I wonder how old you have to be before you can get a ninja stick. I wonder how old you have to be before you feel like you have to protect yourself from a 150 pound, leg shaving, spandex wearing, bike riding, sandwich eating biker freak.

Maybe 70.

Thingamajig Makes It Through Spell Check

I found this last week on Warm Springs. That narrow stretch just below the mesa. You know, the stretch you probably shouldn’t ride your bike on, especially since the greenbelt is just below the road. So I was riding my bike there and found it in the road. At least I didn’t stop to take the picture in the road. I probably should have taken the picture in the road, I like it when my bike wheel is in it.

Anyhow, it is a wrench thingamajig. The handle is broken and beaten up a bit, but it is still big enough for a hobbit. My favorite feature are some little arrows engraved on it that show which way is ON and which way is OFF – for those who cannot remember righty tighty lefty loosy. Another Wednesdays tool.

I was thinking last night that someday, when I win the lottery, I am going to buy a legislator. Or maybe I will just buy a legislative seat and I will be the legislator. I would only really work on things that served my own personal best interest and spend the rest of the time pushing other peoples buttons. Yup, that’s what I would do if I won the lottery. It was just a thought.

You tried it, didn't you? I knew you would.

Erica Revisited

Ahhhh, Erica. Wherefore art thou Erica? Thine mixethed CD hath my readers all aflutter.

I mean, seriously. I have written a lot of stuff. A lot of offensive, off color, politically incorrect, narrow minded, and stupid stuff. I may have even written a thing or two to intentionally tick people off, maybe. I have never heard back from so many people.

But really, everyone wants to know more about Erica. Sorry, I don’t know her phone number or where she lives. I do know she is a bad, bad, bad girl. I do know that someone tried to rub out her name, but wanted to keep her badness.

Here is what else I know. She listens to this…

5 – Ludacris – Blueberry Yum Yum

Let me tell you, it isn’t about jam.

6 – 504 Boyz – I Can Tell Ya Wanna

I actually cannot tell ya what she wanna – not here.

7 – Lil Jon – Get Low

This one ain’t about the limbo kids.

8 – DJ Khaled – We Takin Over

The bad, bad chicks – they takin over.

9 – Three6Mafia – Stay Fly

That’s right, 3 six’s – completely evil. None of that 555 stuff.

10 – Pitbull – Go Girl

There isn’t any travelling in this song. Just going.

11 – D4L – Bobblehead

Nope, not getting this bobblehead at a Hawks game. I don’t think so anyway?

12 – T.I. – Round Here

Ain’t so nice ‘round here.

13 – K-Ci & Jojo – Crazy

I think this one was an accident. They could probably play it on the radio even.

14 – Insane Clown Posse – The Dating Game

Whoa. Dude. Like WTF. OMG. Umm, OK.

15 – Chamillionaire – Try to Catch Me Riding Dirty

They hatin’. Try’n to catch him riding dirty.

16 – Jamie Foxx – Unpredictable

Yep, not the usual – unpredictable. It ain’t about the weather.

What about 1 through 4? Collateral damage from the trip out the car window. I know – it sucks. Like The Mystery of Edwin Drood.

Alas, we will never know.