Seasonal Smells

It’s starting to warm up in b-town and that means it is starting to smell like butt. I think last Friday was the worst, probably the buttiest smelling day in the history of Boise. I mean, it was just rank. Don’t get me wrong, it was no Pocatello – and definitely couldn’t match the aroma of Lewiston, but it was pretty stanky. Maybe right about even with Nampa. Actually, maybe it was Nampa just stinking over into Boise.

This morning rocking the gb on the way to work I noticed that poop island down by the Shilo Inn was starting to wreak of well, you know, poop. Probably because that’s where the bums go to live, and poop. Some mornings it smells more like fried spam than poop, but these are hard economic times so there is no smellerific spam, just poop. I try to hold my breath when I ride through there.

That’s as close as I have come to training lately, holding my breath for a quarter mile on the gb. Unless you count velocache as training, then I have been training a bunch. And I think I am getting better. At velocache, not bike racing.

I thought for a while that the new seasonal smells may be my new baggies. That’s right, I got some new baggies for fathers day. They are rocking the spandexy inner liner, but without those undesirable cottage cheesy holes I talked about the other day. Much better.

They do have this little dippy downy part in the front of the liner by the zipper though – I assume that it is to make it easier to whip it out and take a leak. I hate it when people have to stop and take leaks during bike rides. I mean jesus dude, just because you can take a leak anywhere doesn't mean you should. And if you have to pee like every hour on a ride you aren't riding hard enough. Mix in some medication or something.

Yeah, they meant to make it easier to take a leak, but in reality they made it so you have to jam your bits all over to the side so you don’t get any rubbage from the zipper. I would gladly exchange a little difficulty in whizzing to prevent rubbage and having to go all Crying Game to get your bits out of trouble.

So anyhow, it wasn’t the shorts. The smell I mean, it wasn’t the shorts. I checked you know.

I gotta say that I have found the new baggy shorts liberating though. I got passed by a dude the other day and didn’t feel the need chase him down and pass him back. I even rode no hands for an entire mile the other day before I got embarrassed and used my hands. I also have to say I have found passing people wearing spandex while I am wearing baggies particularly enjoyable.

I decided that if wearing baggies was so good, that maybe I should try wearing regular clothes. Like without pads in the butt. Turns out, that wasn't so good. I can ride about 16.3 miles without padded britches before my taint turns to pancetta. Yeah, that was significantly below average. I am glad I have already met my kid quota.

So I am going to go make a velocache now.

Gun Locks for Bikes

Because where I come from people are more afraid of people on bikes than guns.

And you can get gun locks free from the sheriff.

Abnormal

So I saw today that Tour de France contender Alberto Contador will miss the Spanish National Championship as he has come down with the flu. Rrriiiggghhhttt. The flu in June. Yeah, in the world of professional cycling saying you have the flu (or the ever popular intestinal virus) is just code for "I have pending abnormal blood values".

Speaking of abnormal blood values I saw Franco Pellizotti at the shaved ice shack today. Yeah, that's him in his Liguigas polka dot jersey. Really. Well, maybe.



Yeah. Speaking of shaving I had my first Orangina the other day. I have to say it was pretty spectacular, like if you mixed orange juice and orange soda.



It made me feel pretty much all rocked up and animaltastic like this...



Of course I am pretty awesome like that all the time. Except for that hair, I don't have that. Then there is the bear head. Mine is pretty large but other than that pretty much normal (that's what she said)(there, I said it for you). So anyway, just like that picture except the hair, and the bear head. Then there are the muscles. I can definitely do that thing with the bottle though, and stick my tongue out too.

So yeah, I felt pretty much exactly like that bear thing and it feels good indeed to be the bear thing. Creepy, but good. I am pretty sure that there would have been voluptuous animals singing and dancing everywhere, but I never made it out after I drank the Orangina.

I will definitely have another one. Maybe right now...

Dr. Evil

A few years ago I went to my Optometrist and explained to him how when I was reading a book and then looked up at something else further away it would take a second for my eyes to refocus. He looked at me, laughed, and said 'it's only going to get worse'.

That was very reassuring for a guy who was pretty sure he was going blind. Turns out I was just getting old. Come to think of it, I'm not sure there is really a difference.

The next year I went to the optometrist and explained to him how I had spots in my vision - like little dark blotches that followed my eyes around. I was pretty sure I had a brain tumor or something. He laughed at me and told me to get used to it - I would probably only get more. Turns out floaters don't kill you, unless you get annoyed to death.

The next year when I went to the optometrist he dilated my eyes. I thought I was pretty much ok until I about passed out I my way out of the office. It seems that it happens sometimes to wimps like me. One of my friends suggested that I haven't done enough recreational drugs to get myself used to having pupils the size of pancakes.

So you may be able to understand why I was a little bit apprehensive about going back to the optometrist today.

I told him about how I about passed out last year. He gave me that look that you get from people when they know that you know that they got you by the balls. Yeah, that one. Perhaps in honor of my acknowledgment he decided not to turn my pupils into flying saucers today.

Nope, no flying saucer eyeballs today - but I did get the brain scramble. I get that pretty much every time. He makes me look at letters and lights and puffs of air until my head is just about to explode - then he stops.

I am pretty sure that he could make my head explode if he wanted to. Yeah, just the right combination of lights and letters and puffs then pop goes my head. I think they learn that in optometry 101. Head popping.

I only got 364 days to worry about next year.

Miscellaneous Asshattery

A while back I was talking to a friend who told me that he had decided to dress like a bike commuter when he was, you know, commuting - and dress like a bike racer when he was racing or training. Now its hard to argue with that logic, so I decided I would give it a try too.

Back in like 1995 when my parents found out that I was wearing spandex and shaving my legs they bought me a pair of baggie bike shorts. I think they were hoping I didn’t turn into a spandex clad biker fag. It must have been too late, because I have worn the shorts almost exactly once in the last fifteen years.

Well, until last week that is – when I decided to dress like a bike commuter. So yeah, the shorts have these cutesy little spandex mesh shorts inside the baggy outside shorts. I find them disturbingly similar to those running shorts with the built in underwear. Those are the worst item of clothing ever invented. Those or tube tops.

So yeah, I had thing major psychological barrier to get over from the start. I don’t want to be built-in underwear running shorts guy – that’s just wrong.
Eventually I did get the shorts on and rode to work. I was a little disturbed the entire time because the outer shorts kind of rode up my leg a little bit and exposed the meshy undershorts, and my pasty ass leg below. It was like squishing cottage cheese through a fish net. Not attractive.



I assure you that my leg looks decidedly fatter and cottage cheesier in real life, but you get the idea.

I’m not sure how this dressing like a commuter is going to work out.

Speaking of disturbing, I am sure you all saw the story about the 74 year old lady dumping mayonnaise in the book drop at one of the local libraries. You know, like the open jar of mayonnaise. It is suspected that the mayonnaise is just chaser for some other choice items that she dumped in there – corn syrup, honey, miscellaneous fluids. One of my friends thinks she is a school lunch lady, but I am pretty sure she is the bus driver from South Park.



Angrysaurus rex.

My favorite part is that she is packing heat on the passenger seat in her car – probably so she can bust a cap in the librarian if they catch her in the act. The man is everywhere you know.

The cops haven’t released a motive, but most people assume she has library fines or something. Not me, I think she is pissed because the library is distributing literature that is inconsistent with her moral and religious beliefs. I am almost positive she is the one who scratched all the potty words out of my copy of Catcher in the Rye.

Yep, we share the streets with this lady – and apparently the library too.

Asshat.

In regard to sharing the streets, local rumor has it that someone is spreading goatheads on Hill Rd in Boise. A rash of flat tires caused by a ridiculous number of goatheads (which, by the way don’t really start goatheading till August) has been reported by many.

Holy crap! The fact that someone wants to inflect suffering on cyclists on Hill Road doesn’t really surprise me, but I am having a hard time grasping that someone must have actually collected all of these goatheads in the first place. Hours toiling in the dusty, pokey vines to harvest your sinister little crop of evil goatheads – who who who haa haa haa who who who haa haa haa haa! That was an evil laugh by the way - try it out loud. No, really - try it out loud. Ok.

Tacks would have been easier.

And I thought the weather was making me crazy. This poor bastard has been sitting on his harvest since last fall, patiently waiting for the weather to warm up to bring out his prey.

Asshat.

Losing It

I about lost it on Saturday. Lost my marbles. Fell off my rocker. Came unhinged. Went postal. Certifiable. Mental. Gone bananas.

Yup, almost.

I was riding home all spandexed up in my LOOK!y kit. I stopped behind a car in the left turn lane from Main St in Eagle onto Eagle Rd – the light was green but the car in front of me was waiting for oncoming traffic. I was doing likewise.

The asshat on the bicycle behind me couldn’t be bothered to wait.

He zipped to my left, to the left of the car in front of me, cut off the oncoming car which was turning right, cut off the other oncoming car that was going straight, and nearly ran over a pedestrian in a cross walk. All that in one maneuver. While wearing white tube socks.

Considering where I was riding from, and the reason that I rode there I went berserk. Do you remember that game on the Atari? That was a good game – except for the part where the robots would walk into the walls by themselves. That was kind of odd.

Anyway, yeah, I was pretty much nuts. I waited for my turn through the intersection then chased like hell so I could lay into the jack ass. I am about to catch him at a red light and tell him about how he is making us all look bad by riding like a moron, and how you shouldn’t wear spandex knickers and white tube socks together – but the wanker runs the red light. Not like stops and looks both ways runs the light, like swerves over into the crosswalk and rides across the intersection without slowing down runs the red light. Yeah, like it is ok to run a red if you are in a crosswalk. Shitweasel.

I was more than a bit imbalanced when the light finally changed, and I took off like a rocket. I am just about to catch the bastard and tell him about red light laws, and that it is never ok to wear spandex bottoms with a t-shirt – especially a long sleeved t-shirt – then the ass-monkey runs another red light. Un-freaking believable.

At that point I think I was slobbering. I was rocking a minor case of derangement. When the light changed I probably went as fast as I ever had on a bike. I was about to catch the guy and punch him, and tell him that you can’t wear a camelback and ride a road bike – then he goes for the trifecta. Yes, three run red lights in a row. Stupid double up f-nut! I am pretty sure my eyes were bulging out of my head. Drivers were starting to notice.

Look at that slobbering, blathering, spandex clad biker with flames coming out his butt! I think he is going to kill that other guy!

So I am a couple hundred yards behind the knuckle dragger, he is going through another light – green this time! Of course he is riding up inside a car that is about to turn right in front of him, and has been signaling its intention to do so for a while. Luckily the driver had more sense than he did and waited for him.

The light is also at the intersection where I turn to go home. Should I keep chasing the butt ranger and explain to him about riding like a NYC bike messenger and its effect on others, or should I go home? I turned and went home to my family. I hope dickweed in the tube socks made it home to his.

VeloCache

Now that the all important LP200 is over I am left with a void. What should I do with all that time that I would normally train? I mean, I guess I could train more – but really, I’m sick of racing bikes so I think I am done doing that.

How lucky was I to stumble across this on someone else’s blog. VeloCache. Yeah, so you the idea is that you hide some crap, then you post some semi-obscure pictures of it on a webpage so other people can find it. Or you can just go out and find other peoples crap, but I imagine finding and not caching is the karmic equivalent of killing small woodland creatures or drinking coffee at the office without contributing to the coffee fund.

So I looked at the site and decided to give it a try, seems how I knew where like three of the caches were immediately by looking at the photos. It either means that I am way observant and have superior investigative skills, or that I ride my bike on the gb waaayyyy too much.

Yeah, anyway, I gave it a day then looked at the site again. A couple of the caches I had identified still hadn’t been found so I decided to check one out. I took a little nooner to pick it up.

I rode my racing bike to pick up the cache. I am sure that is more than a bit wankerish, but it is the only functional bike I have at the moment. Well, actually that’s not true. My tt bike still works, but I am guessing VeloCache on a TT bike would make me a superwanker, and despite my proclamations that I don’t care what other people think I don’t want to be labeled a superwanker on my first cache picking upping attempt.

So I found the cache, looked around, grabbed it, and stuffed it in my commuter bag. I don’t know why, but it felt vaguely like I was stealing something. It also felt vaguely like I was enjoying it.

Riding back to safety I was filled with anticipation. I was like a kid on Christmas. Or like a kid that just stole something and was anxious to get to safety and check it out. I mean, not that I would know what that felt like – because, you know, I was a good kid. Good as hell.

Anyway, finally I get to safety and open up the cache. Holy cool crap! I knew it would be good, but not this good! I mean right there on top was an un-used AOL cd, still in the cellophane wrapper! Right underneath that was bottle opener ring. That’s just bitch’n. Not to mention the PBR wristband – are you kidding me? I haven’t seen anything that cool since the natty lite bike. Damn. There was also a sweet carabiner cork screw, some chocolates, an energy drink, crystallize lemon, and a Boise Weekly sticker.

I just wanted to rock all that stuff right there. So I did…



Too bad I was at work or I would have tried out my various and sundry opening devices.

I immediately felt guilty, and needed make my own cache to make up for it. I made my own cache with stuff I scavenged in my office – including my much prized office yo-yo, little angry man action figure, and a partially used Barnes and Noble gift card - amongst other treasures. I know it isn’t as good as what I received, but I think it is a good start? I’ll let you know how it goes.

Maybe I will try again next week.