Before I moved downtown, I’d have told you I had a love/hate relationship with my bike, and the hate was mostly due to the behavior of my fellow cyclers.

Now, I’m not feeling the love so much. It’s not the bike that’s the problem (I heartily recommend Marin bikes). The problem is cycling clothes are a rip off. If you decide to take up cycling to get around (and I do recommend it for a variety of reasons), don’t buy a stitch of dedicated cycling gear.

Rainy/cold season: Last fall my beloved Burley jacket finally died. And the company had been bought out, outsourced and discontinued their apparel lines (stupid hippies can’t apparently turn an excellent, popular product into a successful company, jackasses). So I invested in some new gear for the rainy season. This is when I realized that cyclers just expect to be miserable when riding, and I’ll never understand why. It was impossible to find an adequately ventilated jacket. Cycling gloves are Mickey Mouse thick and still not waterproof. If you get “rain pants” you end up with a mobile sauna that looks like something MC Hammer would have worn in a video (they inflate). If you get “trail pants” they’re not even marginally resistant to water. I found an actually excellent pair of booties, but I broke the zippers on three of them (the fourth pair is still going strong, but I haven’t needed them much lately.) I remember storming into the locker room at my work in an absolute rage, soaked with sweat on top and rain on the bottom and spending fifteen minutes venting to another bike commuter about the shit I’d just bought.

Then he told me he rides in mountain gear. Grrrrr.

Serious cyclers will tell you that it’s impossible to be waterproof and not too hot (or that waterproofing is impossible). I refuse to accept that. I didn’t go to krav last week because it was supposed to rain on the two days that my class is held and just thinking about it was depressing. I think I’ll take homeboy’s advice and hit REI. They have a generous return policy for members and I’ll return as many as I need. I’ll buy reflectors to put on them or something.

Summer: Cycling gear is UGLY. Seriously. The best expression of cycling fashion is that stupid beanie serious cyclers wear. What the fuck is that? Does that tiny little visor DO anything? It’s an inch long. What good is that? And it looks STUPID. When I first got my bike I picked up a few special shirts of a wicky material with that half zipper (you may have seen Lance Armstrong riding in ad-covered versions of this shirt). While it convinced me that wicky materials are the awesome, a: Target sells tees of the stuff for $12, REI for $18, a fraction of the price of something with a cycling label on it; b: these shirts look gay, but are so ugly no self respecting gay man would ever wear one. Then there’s those shorts. The “hey, look at my balls” shorts. Someone makes them with a normal looking shell, but I’m afraid to even think of how much those cost. Cycling shoes are ridiculously expensive and usually lock into the pedal (guess what happens if you don’t get your foot free quickly?) and if you wear normal shoes they get torn up by either the chain or by crap on the road. And two words: helmet hair.

So it would be Friday and I’d be thinking of stuff to do. I’m no fashion plate, but I’m working on it. So, do I ride my bike? Well, let’s see I’ll sweat my balls off, so I can’t wear any normal t-shirts, but I don’t want to walk around with visible sweat spots on a boring solid color wicky shirt. So I’ll have to cover that up, but then I’ll need a bag to take a cover shirt, because if I wear it riding, it’ll get sweaty, too. Then I can’t wear my awesome old school sneakers, because they’re suede, but my cross trainers are beat up FUCK IT I’ll take the bus or walk.

Sigh.

It looks like WordPress doesn’t like iPhone posts from the web. Sorry to anyone on my feed if they got a super jacked up post. I fixed it now. I’ve downloaded the WordPress app but I need to upgrade my blog before I can use it. Again, very sorry.

NOT soccer thankyouverymuch.

I’m so over Brett Favre. The whole ordeal has the smell of “fine, I’ll take my ball and go home!” Very spoiled, very petulant, very, well, athletic.

If he was that pissed at Packers management he should have asked for a trade at the end of last season. Or better yet, used his unmatched fan support to pressure management to fix whatever he was pissed off about. But this retirement thing is some bullshit. Brett always had an aura of stand up guy, like Ripken or Piazza. But no, he’s really better than T.O. only in scale, not content (pre teary eyed defense of Tony Romo T.O., at that. And as a quick tangent, how fascinating was that moment?).

Now on the other hand I’ve NEVER liked Eli Manning. His drafting went off like a debutante who didn’t get the date she wanted. Just thinking of him pouting with that Chargers jersey in his hands is enough to make me question professional sports. And his career until lately wasn’t much better.

Until lately, that foreshadowing, folks.

I admittedly didn’t follow last season closely but the story in the news coverage could have been summed up: Eli’s balls finally drop. Really it was like watching him grow up over the last part of last season, right into the Super Motherfuckin’ Bowl. Manning to Tyree? Wow. (another aside, fuck Belicheat and that whole rotten organization)

So, provisionally, the Giants are my team. We’ll see how the kid handles himself.

Staged? Maybe. Win? Yes.

I had to repeat week two of the pushup challenge. But BB gave me a hint: close your eyes.

HO-LEE SHIT! She’s right. Pushups are WAY easier with your eyes closed! What kind of mindfuck is that?

How do I repay her? I get her wasted on Jameson’s & Dr Pepper’s (a good combo, esp if you like Dr Pepper and don’t like Jamesons, and there was no Coke at AC/GC), because her Scarlet O’Hara accent comes out when she’s drunk. Tee hee. And it only took three measured shots.

Then I left. I’ve never claimed to be a nice guy.

In other news, my dental adventures are on hiatus. YAY!! My insurance benefit has run out until the “year” starts over in April. What a relief. Of course if something needs to be fixed (like the spot where broken teeth won’t let me floss), I’m kinda SOL. But I waited 15 years between dental work, so what’s eight months? Wait, eight months! I used up my insurance benefit in four fucking months? Wow. No wonder my credit card payments are killing me.

I’ve been on a reading storm. Some good stuff, some bad stuff, some stuff that’s way weirder than it needs to be. For instance, I read that book that Babylon AD is based on. It’s a translation of a French novel and apparently what we call “magazines” the French call “chargers”. Which if you know guns is interesting and if you don’t, is weird and boring. I find it interesting (and it’s actually a better word for it).

Finally saw the new Batman movie. I can’t help but critique the writing when I watch a movie. It sucks. And I finally just came to the conclusion that Batman, for all his badassocity, is a pussy. Just kill the fucking Joker already. Which is not to say the movie sucked. No, no it was pretty damned awesome.

Speaking of not-super superheros, I saw the trailer for the Watchmen movie. I think I may have blogged about it (I know I reviewed it on Goodreads) but I did NOT like the Watchmen comic book. I liked the premise (”masked adventurers”) but the story was lame and the nefarious plot sucked. But I gotta tell ya, Rorschach is so much more bad ass than Batman. If you see the trailer, Rorschach is the guy in the fedora and the funny mask and the voice that says:

The world will look up and shout: Save us. And I’ll whisper: No.

Okay, he’s kind of a dick. But you’d be, too in his position.

Yesterday I started the Hundred Pushup Challenge. It’s a six week program that, at the end of which, you can do 100 consecutive pushups. Some women I know have been doing it for a few weeks and at first I didn’t think much of it. I know how to do pushups. But last Friday they were talking about it and one of them mentioned that things she recognized has heavy before she started the program (I think a bag of kitty litter was the example) didn’t feel heavy any more.

Then Saturday getting out of the shower I got a good look at my arms. And thought about how poor my gym attendance has been, and how long it’s been since I did any weight training.

So Sunday I did the initial test (did 26 good form push ups) and yesterday morning I started. Should be good.

I also went to krav Monday night and it always seems that they find new muscles to abuse. We were doing a (counts) 6 strike combo, then some kicking from the ground, so my arms, back AND butt hurts. Then I did pushups.

It’ll be worth it, tho. Right?

*poke* Right??

Also yesterday, more dental work! I bet you’re shocked. I had scheduled to do a bunch of fillings and an onlay (whatever exactly that is). But the temporary crown on the molar I had root canal’d a few months ago started giving trouble last week, so I called in and arranged to have a permanent put in. The bill wasn’t too bad, I had a credit built up (thanks insurance company!) and for some reason I was expecting it to be more expensive anyway. So, woot!

And I’m formally dieting again. Weighing food and the lot. I started last week, but of course the boss wanted to have a meeting over sushi, and I forgot my lunch. Several times. But all that’s over with. Except I had to eat breakfast out both Monday and yesterday. But I’m on track now! Wait, oh, never mind.

What else, so, I saw Hellboy II. The ads didn’t say it was a romantic comedy. Le sigh.

In line with my previous post, I’m going to tell a tale of good luck.

The owner of Seven Corners Cycles birthday is July 14th and every year
he goes to Oaks Park. I was invited last year and a good time was had.
This year Corey started reminding me months in advance. So this past
Monday after work I cycle my ass to our white trash Disneyland.

It’s closed Mondays. So is the shop and I don’t have anyone’s phone
numbers. Huh. So I hang around for 20 minutes or so and bail, figuring
they came up with alternate plans.

Last night I’m leaving krav and I’m hungry. So I decide to eat at
Mike’s Drive In. But it’s kinda busy and I just go by. I decide I’ll
eat at the Mike’s in Sellwood. But I don’t, no reason why really, I
just ride past.

Then I see a bunch of cyclers turn onto the road a few blocks in front
of me and think what a bunch of assholes, clogging the road. But it
triggers a memory of the previous year when I’d been in a similar
pack. And y’know that bar we all went to after is just up here. So I
haul ass to catch up with them and sure enough, it’s Corey and crowd!
So I got to participate after all.

Pretty sweet, eh?

I don’t know how many people are prone to digging through my archives,
but if you do you’ll notice a number of them are password protected.

The password is “whinybutt”.

Those are bits of my recent history that are better not dredged up.
Pissy, depressed and moany bits. But I generally dislike removing
entries, so I locked them. But if you really want to see a mopey,
bitchy Doom, the password, again, is whinybutt.

I found a, um, certain person’s blog. A certain person from my past. I probably shouldn’t be reading this. But I am.

I LOVE fast food. LOVE IT. I don’t, WON’T care of it’s more composed of rBGH & HFCS than honest food by mass. I. LOVE. IT.

I tried to bake some more Cornish-esque pasties tonight (those things are awesome). But the filling mix had, after about two weeks in a Ziploc bag, gone icky. But the puff pasty (I didn’t want to attempt the proper crust, but since it’s apparently capable of keeping the filling hot, pasty intact for half a day AND not turn completely soggy, I totally should) was already thawed, so I just baked it. I think I independently discovered croissants. I ate about half of the big square of puff, with butter. Damn that was good.

I went to krav for the first time in a few weeks last night. I really, really need to stop doing that. Every time I resume krav after a pause I’m sore as hell. My lats and triceps feel like I lifted weights. And I got elbowed in the left temple. Actually I nearly got my eye torn out, more like. But there’s not much of a bruise. We did more ground fighting stuff. Man, I hate ground fighting. My partner last night must be a wrestler, because the first time I went (we were doing side mounts, for the UFC fans in the crowd), he chucked me off him so effortlessly I seriously wanted to just give up. But I didn’t. I soldiered on, took a lesson from it (don’t let him get his elbow under your hip!)

This post is brought to you by parentheses!

I hate actually having to work at, y’know. Work. Stupid tenants. I feel like I should blog more about work, but how much of it would any of you understand? I spent a few hours replacing compact flourescent (I never spell that word right) ballasts. Then I found more that the tenant hadn’t told us about. Happy me. Fortunately we ran out of spare ballasts, anyway. We’re getting complaints about a room with no airflow, because the zone’s temp sensor is in an unoccupied space that of course has no heat load (tho it does have a fancy man-sized stuffed zebra, no shit). So the sensor doesn’t call for cooling and since we’re a VAV building, it then doesn’t call for (much) airflow, even though the occupied spaces (with their heat loads) are now too hot.

See my point? (the solution is to lower the setpoint, btw, but the BAS seems to be resetting it).

At Rialto, um, this past weekend some time, I saw an ad for some 80’s metal collection. That got me to thinking of old songs and what did I rediscover but fucking Winger. WINGER! Miles Away is actually even better acoustic solo. Kip Winger has genuine musical talent, whodathunk? (Maybe he found it since his band got impaled by grunge, ps thanks, Youtube). I don’t know why I like that song so much. It certainly doesn’t recall any events from my life (no, really). But it always resonated with me. Maybe it’s my imagination and talent for story telling.

How was everyone’s 4th? Mine was low key. Most exciting part was discovering what happens when you load the ass end of your bike with beer and try to make sharp turns. You damn near fall over, if you were wondering.

Speaking of near death. Did I forget to tell everyone I almost electrocuted myself, um, last week? No, week before. I forgot to turn my circuit tester back on (why do they even turn off??) and cut into a live wire I thought was off. Oops. But it was only 277 volts. No biggie! Nice pretty spark, tho.

I thought 100 degree F weather was bad. But 90ish minutes spinning has
me positively ICKY.

I haven’t been to the gym in a few weeks. I was gonna go, um, Monday
(?) but stupid Sarah poopypants made me drink instead. Ruuuuuude!

I’ve been treadmilling for an hour, then running horrible, horrible
stairs, then pushups & crunches. But I think I’m just gonna go home.
Too much stationary peddling. Ow. Ew.

In other news, I forgot how hot Lucy Liu is.

Music: Fire For The People by Blue Scholars