A Matching Set

Last week at Wakefield I cased the first jump on the Whoop-di-dos, piledriving into the dirt and essentially "dragging" my entire body across my handlebars enroute to landing chest-first on the ground, immediately followed by said bike flipping over and landing directly on top of me. Fortunately, I emerged unscathed other than a scraped shin and several bruises, including a really nice, deep, dark bruise on my right Asscheek.

Tonight I was riding along, approaching the big log at the entrance to Phase 1. I always go around this log - I just never have the guts to go for it, even though I know I can do it. So anyway, tonight I said to myself, I said: "what the hell - let's try going over the log! I'm sick of that thing making me back down all the time."

So, rolling towards the log, I decided to pop a practice wheelie to get the "feel" of what I'll need to do to make it over. I pull the bars back. I keep pedaling. The rear wheel, under my own power, continues forward under me. S-L-A-MMM!!! Down to the ground I go, right on - you guessed it - my left Asscheek!

I figure by Saturday I'll have a matched set of ass bruises. WOO HOO!

(Epilogue: along with my pride, I left my confidence on the ground where I fell. I spent the rest of the ride picking my way along like a blind man in a minefield. That sucked worse than the fall.)

Whee Hee Hee! Whoo!!

Every itty bitty little last bit of the Dos' is here or en route!

Crankset? Check.
Headset? Check.
Fork? Check.
Spacers to Add to Ricky's Freaky-Long Steer Tube? Check.
Stem? Check.
Handlebars? Check.
Bottom bracket? En Route.
Tires/Tubes? En Route.
Seatpost? Check.
Wheels? Check.
Skewers? En Route.
Saddle? En Route.
Chain? Check.
Grips? Check.
Brakes? Check.
Cog? En Route.
Bashguard? En Route.
Cassette Spacers? Check.
Oh Yeah - Frame? Check!

All hail the Tax Man!

Now to strategize breaking the news to Erica.

Hmmm... Anybody got space on their couch?

Oh Well...

The problem with a blog is, sometimes you feel obligated to post, even when you don't have anything to say.

So.

Save the (pre) Date before the Save Date before the Invite!

I received a "Save the Date" card from Bald Gaz and his vict- uh, fiancee Tracee the other day. A very kind and generous act and yes, the date is saved (unless this entry gets me banned).

It got me thinking though: what an odd concept! "This isn't an invitation, mind you - just putting you on notice." When did these pre-invitations come into existence? I know when Erica and I Did the Deed in 1997, we'd never heard of the phenomenon. And what purpose do they serve? Isn't "saving the date" the whole point of invitations? Does the lack of an RSVP request somehow necessitate a whole extra layer of communication? Perhaps it's meant to give the recipient a good head start on making other plans? Or to give the happy couple one last chance to cull the list before sending out the "real" invitatons?

Will we someday find a "Keep an Eye Out for the Save The Date Card" announcements in our mailbox?

I remain increasingly puzzled by the culture in which I live.

Weak. Weak, Weak, Weak!

It was a simple plan, calling only for a small dab of self-control. Start putting aside $100.00 per paycheck, and by Spring '07 I'd have a pile of cash to buy a 29er.

Well, the '06 Dos Niner frames were released and I said to myself, I said: "If I put the frame on the credit card, that should be OK as long as I purchase all the components according to plan." Out came the credit card.

So, I put aside my dough for a few weeks, and picked up a few parts - headset, seatpost, grips, cranks.

Well, I spotted the brakes I wanted for $170.00 less than MSRP for the pair and I said to myself, I said: "I can't pass up that deal!" So I got out the credit card.

By this time, the Spousal Unit has noticed I'm ordering all these parts, and is getting a wee tad testy about it. Something about needing to buy Spring clothes for the kids or something. Whatever.

Well, I was in the neighborhood the other day and I said to myself, I said: "Spacers and a chain aren't really worth ordering online, and they're cheap - I'll just duck into the shop and pick 'em up, as long as I'm here anyway" I was a bit short, so out came the credit card.

Mother's Day is on the way, and the Better Half has been pointedly remarking on her iPod's rapidly degrading battery performance. So I went on Amazon.com and ordered her a fancy new iPod for Mother's Day.

Well, I realized that the wheelset I want is so expensive it'll be nearly Winter again before I can get it and that's no fun at all, so I said to myself, I said: "If the Light of My Life can get an iPod for Mother's Day, I think a wheelset for Father's Day is only fair!" Speedgoat has my card number on file now - no need to physically bring out the card. How's that for convenience?

So I figure I should be ready to ride by June, with a borrowed fork and, hopefully, borrowed handlebars. Look out world - I've got a new bike and I saved really hard for it!

I'm weak. Weak, Weak, Weak!

Oh Man, I Can't WAIT for Prom Night!

Alex Looking Simply FAAAABulous!

Your Tax Dollars At Work

I was sent to Miami Beach to give a talk on overseas travel safety at an Expo put on by the Miami Herald. Several hundred dollars to fly me down Thursday evening and back Friday afternoon, almost $150.00 for a hotel room. Plus meals and expenses.

Attendance at the talk?

Two (2).

Thanks for the trip, America!

It Burns! IT BUUUUUURNS!!!

Got to the pool tonight, realized I'd left my goggles at home. Is it me, or do they put more chlorine in pools than they used to? Ouch!

Gym Life

I've recently started trying to make it to my building's small gym a couple of times a week to do a little weight training. I do this every couple of years before life interferes and throws me off my routine, and every time I start I'm given little reminders of why "Gym Culture" makes it hard for me to stick with it.

1) Screamish McGruntley - this guy (usually a guy) can't lift a towel off the floor without emitting a deafening roar to show the world what a hardcore workout he's got going. Dude, STFU already - it makes me lose count of my reps!

2) Gabby McGabberson - The (usually female) counterpart to Mr. McGruntley. Usually part of a group, often found monopolizing the stairmasters or the cross-country ski machine thingy. Blablablablablablablabla, and THEN I said: Blablablablablablabla, and then SHE said: Blablablablabla. Again, STFU! Nobody wants to hear you and your group of harpies shrieking!

3) Towel-snapper - this is the guy who liked to snap people in the ass with rolled-up towels back in high school. He's moved beyond that now, but not far. As an adult, he alternates between sexually harassing his female coworkers who are just trying to exercise in peace, blabbering about the various "manly" things he does in his off time (Motorsports and killing things often being high on the list of topics), jabbering at other towel-snappers about the latest pointless sports news, and barking "friendly" insults at random acquaintances (usually casting aspersions on one's sexuality). These guys make me think fond thoughts about Piano Wire.

4) Oprah Junky - I don't like TVs in gyms (or bars) in the first place, but as long as we have to have it, and if it really must be turned on, who elected her (again: usually female) queen of programming? There could be 10 people huddled around the TV watching breaking news on CNN, andthis bitch would walk right up and switch the channel to some cheeseball talk show. And it's always a talk show. Always. WTF?!?

5) Mr. Nekkid! - Being in a locker room entails exposure to nudity. Fair enough, I'm no prude. I do, however, maintain a certain level of basic human modesty. What is with those guys who walk all over the Locker Room in the buff? Really - would it kill them to wrap a towel around their waist? Here's my theory: they either want people to look at their wang, or they want to show the world how "unconcerned" they are about people looking at their wang. Either way, they're overcompensating. Get a towel, guys. And try not to roar when you pick it up (Mr Nekkid! and Screamish Mcgruntley are often one and the same; Towel Snapper makes it a common trifecta).

6) Fungo McNast - I'm not sure what's wrong with this guy's feet, but does he have to apply foot powder RIGHT OUTSIDE THE SHOWER STALL? WTF - like I really want to have to walk through this asshole's leftover Tinactin? Dude, lay down a towel or something!

7) Lard-Ass Dilettante - this guy is a waste of space and of everybody's time! He doesn't know what he's doing, he's constantly underfoot, he's always keeping people from using the weight machines, his technique is for shit, and he keeps giving me wierd looks - oops, wait! That's a mirror, isn't it? *Ahem!* Ummm... moving right along...

Welfare by Drew

I think those who want to do away with all forms of social safety net and make people "earn" their way through life are fucked in the head. Horatio Alger makes for great propaganda, but that's about it. Funny how these myopic greedheads never seem to consider there might be a direct link between tax cuts and the bums who invade local parks and make it impossible for families to gather and have a peaceful time at play.

On the other hand, I don't have a whole lot of patience for people who seem to think living off taxpayer largesse is A-OK. To the greatest extent possible, people need to get off their asses and get jobs. I think this country has moved a bit too far away from the concept that work is ennobling.

How to balance these two seemingly contradictory impulses? I say lay down a floor, and leave the rest up to individuals.

It is borderline criminal for the richest country on Earth to allow anybody - anybody - to go without the following:

Food
Clothes
Shelter

That's not to say providing those basics should be a pleasant experience for the recipient. On the contrary, receiving such should as much as possible serve as an incentive to do better for oneself.

Let the taxpayer provide the absolute, bare-bones basics to keep people fed and sheltered. Not through welfare checks and food stamps, but literally through direct provisioning and rationing. Everybody who needs it will have a place to stay (public dormitory), clothing (government-issued jumpsuit), and enough to eat (nutrition bars) - anything beyond those basics is entirely up to the individual.

The way I see it, living in a dorm, wearing a jumpsuit and subsisting on nutrition bars should provide plenty of incentive to get a job to pay for an apartment, real clothes and a cheeseburger.
"Oh, but that's so draconian!" some may cry. "It would be so humiliating!". Gee, d'ya think? Good! All the more incentive to rise above living in those conditions. We already have a more-or-less functioning system of public education in this country. If you can read, write and do sums, you can do better than a jumpsuit, and you can do it without a welfare check.

So There.