Stop fooling around.

"To err is human ...

2009-05-12T16:20:00.005-04:00

... to forgive divine." - Alexander Pope

I glanced at the clock, and did the math in my head. I had plenty of time. I needed to get up to Tampa, but there was one more thing I needed to do before leaving Sarasota. I had to go eat at Barnacle Bill's Seafood. I walked the short two miles to Main Street then chose a table on the sidewalk. The server brought me a menu and informed me that all beer would be 2-for-1 until 3pm. I sat back and thought to myself, "I won $7oo gambling last night, I slept in this morning, I'm about to eat delicious sea food outside on the loveliest of days, and now the beer is 2-for-1?" The thought made my heart laugh and reminded me to be grateful for times like these.

I finished one frosty Amber Bock with my salad and ordered another when my meal came. As usual, the snapper was delightful and I looked forward to washing it down with another cold beer. I smiled again at the great day as I lifted my glass. Then I stopped just short of taking a drink and set my beer back on the table in disgust. The alarm on the crappy minivan parked less than six feet in front of me had started going off and making all kinds of unnecessary commotion, and that pile of shit was loud as hell. I spun into a dimension of pissed off that few have ever witnessed. I looked around, hoping I'd see someone hurredly fumbling for their keys to shut it up. Instead, I just saw the other patrons looking at me quizzically, wondering what I would do. I swiveled my gaze back to the honking whooping ruining my lunch van and back around the sidewalk once more as I stood up, flinging my napkin onto the table. As I stood there shaking my head in bothered disbelief, my server hurried out and offered to move my meal inside to the bar. Just as I turned to walk inside, the alarm stopped. I looked around again, trying to spot the idiot responsible for all the noise, but didn't see anyone. I sat back down at the table and finished my lunch, stopping every few moments to angrily glare at the rude van in front of me.

I signed the bill, grabbed the book I was reading, and started walking back to Becky's condo, still kinda pissed about the whole shitty van incident. I hadn't gotten very far when I realized I'd left my pen at the table. It was a pretty nice pen, so I turned around and went back for it. Just before I reached the table, I saw a nervous-looking middle-aged portly man step out of the shop next to the restaurant. He looked around quickly and then scuttled over to the offensive van. As I took the last few steps to the table and grabbed my pen, I turned and looked at him with a burning red laser stare. He stuttered and fumbled with his keys as he said, "I'm really sorry about earlier, I really hope I didn't ruin your lunch." I took a deep breath, preparing to spew some snide cutting remark. Then, somehow, in just that one short breath of time, I saw so many of the bonehead moves I've made in my life. I remembered how many times I'd made honest mistakes, but still deserved to be chastised for them. I also remembered how relieved I'd felt every time someone took mercy on me and forgave me without a tongue lashing. And then, I remembered for the second time that day to be grateful. I could tell he'd already rebuked himself enough, so as I exhaled a scold-less breath, I said, "It's cool, but you might wanna adjust the sensitivity on that thing."

I smiled at the sun and felt good about myself as I turned to walk back. Then I giggled when I looked at my restaurant tab and saw "1 Shrimp Cock - $6.95."

Don't judge. I can't be mature about everything.

Out-dicked.

2009-05-08T12:15:00.002-04:00

"What a dipshit," I thought as I watched the jackass across the table push another fifteen bucks out to split his Kings against the dealer's face card. With my chin in my hands, I watched the guy's one winning hand turn into two losing hands as the dealer pulled another face card to beat everyone at the table. The click click click of chips stacking punctuated the steady rumble of slots spinning and dreams dying. The last swig of my ridiculously not free beer reminded me that I should visit the ladies' room before long. As I stood up, I politely asked the dealer to hold my spot and he said, "I need you to take your chips with you and I can't hold this spot for you." Now, mind you, I've been playing Blackjack since before I was actually old enough to legally gamble. Never has getting up to go to the bathroom been an issue at any casino with any dealer, so I don't think I was out of line to ask, "Is that a new rule?" The dealer officially became a dick when he replied with, "No, it's always been that way." I tried to call bullshit and responded with, "I was in this very same casino not one week ago and several different dealers held my spot for me." He came back with, "I don't know where you play, but we don't hold spots here and I'm not responsible for your money." While I stood there reeling from the blatant lies, the lady next to me offered to play my spot till I made it back. In the following fraction of a moment, I simultaneously pocketed my chips and plotted my revenge. "I'll be right back," I spit, as I sprinted like a Kenyan to the nearest restroom. I nearly knocked over the attendant as I barreled into the first stall and took care of my business. A few seconds later, she just stared as I washed my hands in a fury of soap and water that she'd likely be wiping up later. I slammed a one dollar chip on the wet counter not so much with authority as with a rarely seen sense of urgency as I dashed back toward the table. When I reached my seat, the dealer was taking bets for the next hand. He looked at me, waiting for my bet, and said, "That was really fast." I looked right back at him and as I pushed my chips in without breaking my spiteful glare, I replied, "I didn't wash my hands."

I lost that hand. Maybe it was karma. Maybe you just can't win 'em all. Either way, as the dealer took my chips with a smug glance, I smiled and winked, nodding toward the stack of now supposedly diseased chips in his hand.

No matter who you are, where you go, or what you do, you're gonna have to deal with a dick sooner or later. We all know there are many ways to handle such a situation, but sometimes, the most satisfying option is to simply out-dick them.

Another Parking Story.

2009-03-25T22:15:00.004-04:00

Here I am with yet another empty promise to blog more often. Considering my last sporadic post involved a vehicle, I figured this one might as well too. Here's how it went down:

I rolled into Charleston, South Carolina and promptly located the Hampton Inn. It was only mid afternoon, so the parking lot was nearly empty. I found an empty row of spots, perfect for the truck and trailer. I pulled up far enough that my front bumper ended up just over the line of the last parking spot on that row. This little maneuver is something I always do to ensure the spot in front of me remains empty, allowing me to get out later. I checked into a room and got some work done before I decided I needed to go get some dinner. As I rounded the corner, I saw that some dipshit had parked his stupid little car in what was left of the end parking space. Seriously. That parking spot was clearly occupied by the front end of my truck. Just because it was an abnormally wide parking spot doesn't make it okay to park there too. There was no way he could have opened his door all the way. And he had no excuse. The parking lot was still largely unoccupied. It's not like this spot was any closer to the building than any of the 50 other empty spots. Normally I would have quietly voiced my annoyance under my breath, backed up to get out, and left it at that. In this case, however, someone had also parked directly behind me, albeit in a legit parking space. I clearly was not going to be leaving anytime soon, so I decided to go back up to my room and just order a pizza.

But first I pulled my truck forward a little more. Passive-aggressive at its finest.

I went back to my room chuckling at how difficult it was going to be for this guy to get back in his car. I would have been satisfied had it ended there. I guess it was just my day though, because about an hour later, I went back down to my truck to get something. This time upon rounding the corner, I saw the guy trying to open his car door. I held back a smile as I opened my passenger door, grabbed what I needed, and then shut the door and locked the truck. As I started to walk away, the puzzled man made eye contact with me. The confrontation went like this:

HIM: Hey, uh, do you think you could back your truck up a little?

ME: (looking behind the trailer) Not so much, there's someone right behind me.

HIM: Oh.

ME: How'd you get out of there in the first place?

HIM: I just did. It seemed a lot easier earlier.

ME: Weird.

HIM: (still clearly puzzled) Yeah.

ME: There wasn't anyone parked here when I got here. I didn't think anyone would park here later, my truck's kinda taking up a bunch of that spot.

HIM: (now a little defensive) Yeah, well it's a big spot, it's on the end.

ME: Doesn't look that big to me.

HIM: I guess it's easier to squeeze out than to squeeze back in.

ME: Apparently. Good luck with that.

HIM: Yeah, have a good one. (as he started crawling in through the passenger door)

In this rare case, my friends, two wrongs did make a right and I hope that guy chooses his parking spaces a little more carefully next time.

The Lost Car Debate

2009-02-01T23:43:00.003-05:00

To mark my return to blogging after a 2-month hiatus, I thought I'd write a post that isn't really about me. For a few weeks now, I've been meaning to get back to writing, but I just haven't been very motivated. However, someone did something today that gave me the nudge I needed. She didn't so much inspire me, it's more like she provoked me.

My friend Sarah lost her car. Then she blamed me for it. Then she just started being ridiculous. Here's how it went down:

(Sarah, I know you're smirking right now. Stop it.)

I had left Sarah a voice mail earlier in the day, so a few hours later, she called me back. We were chatting about nothing in particular as she was driving to Wal-Mart. During the course of our phone call, she arrived at Wal-Mart, parked her car, and gone into the store. After a few minutes, she decided she needed to focus on her shopping, so we ended the call. A while later, I heard my phone ring. Sarah was calling again. She was calling to let me know that she was in the parking lot and could not find her car. She couldn't remember where she'd parked and had been pushing her loaded shopping cart around the parking lot for 15 minutes hoping she'd come across it.

At that point, I tried to be helpful. I suggested pushing the panic button on her key while she walked around, that way if she got close, she'd hear it. I also suggested perhaps she be a little more methodical in her search instead of walking around randomly, lest she skip a row or something. As she searched, her frustration grew and it had to have somewhere to go, I guess. So then she decided that all this was my fault. She claimed that the reason she couldn't remember where she parked was that she was on the phone with me when she did it. She said I distracted her and that was why she coudn't recall where she parked. Now, I can see how that might have been a factor, but it still wasn't my fault. She is the one who chose to call me back while she was driving to Wal-Mart. If she didn't have the mental fortitude to take note of where she was parking while talking on the phone, then perhaps she shouldn't have called when she did. It's not like she was driving along about to park when I called and distracted her. She distracted herself. Thus, it wasn't my fault.

Of course, she was never going to see it that way, so we moved on. Instead of blaming me for her losing her car, she decided that someone had stolen it. Awesome. I can just imagine that conversation with the police:

"So your car was stolen? Which parking spot was it in before it was stolen?"

Yeah, Sarah, where was it?

Exactly.

So after a while of walking around yelling at me while looking for her car, she finally found it. At which point she exclaimed, "Ah! Someone moved my car while I was in the store!"

Do you see how ridiculous my friend is? And then she had the nerve to blame me again for her losing the car. Instead of just admitting that she had a dumbass attack, she continued to try to make me the one responsible when all I did was answer my phone. And that is why I am telling the entire world (or just everyone who reads my blog, but ... close enough) about how my friend Sarah managed to lose her car.

Sarah, the jury is out.

Catchin' Up.

2008-12-04T11:35:00.003-05:00

Alright. I'm done backdating posts. At the rate I was going, I was never going to get caught up. There were plenty of fun times in October and November that really do deserve lengthy verbose posts, but being so behind is irritating me. Perhaps some day I'll revisit those times. For now, you get a list:

I spent October in North Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, and Texas.
I got to hang out with Troy and Nixon for a day in Oklahoma City.
I got to home for a few days in October too.
I spent November in St. Louis and Florida.
I also took a short trip to California in November.
Thanksgiving Day kinda sucked because I was on a plane all day long.

And now I'm in Atlanta getting ready to drive back down to south Florida. I'm pretty stoked since it's warm down there and because I get to start heading home on Sunday afternoon!

That's all I've got. I know, lame post, but don't worry, there are better ones to come. Maybe.

Eastbound.

2008-10-02T04:24:00.000-04:00

Contrary to popular belief, I do have a job and I actually have to work sometimes. So, it was time to head back east and get back to work. Troy also needed to head back east, so we figured we might as well fly together to keep each other out of trouble (not the most effective plan). So Wednesday morning, Tori hauled Troy and me to Salt Lake City to catch our flight. We made good time driving, so we had time to stop for lunch at The Red Iguana before having to say goodbye. If you're ever in Salt Lake City, I highly recommend stopping in there for some hella good Mexican food. In fact, if I ever find out you were in SLC and you didn't go to Red Iguana even after I told you to, then I will find you and stab you in the jaw. Hard. They have SEVEN different kinds of Mole! So anyway, we got to the airport and decided that we needed to document our flight together, but my camera was broken, so we took the old school route and we each bought a disposable camera. Hilarity ensued and everyone within a ten foot radius of us was either quite amused or mildly annoyed.

Enjoy:

One Last Ride.

2008-09-30T15:10:00.001-04:00

I went to bed Monday night feeling like crap and didn't feel much better come Tuesday morning. While everyone else was getting up and getting ready for a road ride, I was lying in bed trying to decide whether or not I felt like going. I finally decided that I probably wasn't going to feel any better just lying there all morning, so I might as well go on one last ride with my friends before heading back east.

We'd added a few people to our group, so we rolled out of the hotel parking lot 8 riders strong. I still felt like crap as we rode through town, but I still knew I'd made the right call to suck it up and ride. Once we got off the main highway, we didn't have to worry about traffic and other road hazards as much, so the shenanigans started. This is what happens when you take a bunch of mountain bikers and put them on a road ride together. "What happened?" you ask. Well, you really just had to be there. Or if Nixon would ever post the video he made, you might be able to get a better idea. Let's just say there was a lot of grab-assin' around. As we neared the turnaround point, I had started to feel a lot better. We all stopped and regrouped and then took off again back in the direction we had come from. As we started rolling, Eric suggested we get serious and really try to push the pace heading back. Pretty much everyone else said, "Nah." I was riding next to Nick out ahead of everyone and we were having a nice chat when Eric flew by us. Nick looked at me and said, "We can't let him do that, let's work together and catch him and drop him."

Now, listen. Some of you may already know this, but for those of you who don't, I'm slow as hell. I don't know what would make Nick think I'd be up for that kind of thing, but he seemed pretty disappointed when I laughed at him and said, "Yeah right." "Come on, he said, I'll pull you." I sighed and said, "Alright, I'll try, but I don't think I can catch him even if I am sitting behind you."

The staccato clicking of shifters grabbing more gears signaled the start of our chase as we both stood on the pedals trying to build some momentum. On a roll, we sat down and I settled in on Nick's wheel trying to stay calm and steady; trying not to blow up. Nick looked back and asked if I was alright. I gave him a thumbs up, which he apparently took as a sign to increase our pace. Miraculously, I stayed with him. As I started blowing hard lungfuls of spent air, I thought about dropping off and letting Nick go at it alone. Then I decided that if I could keep it together just a little longer, I'd get used to our quick pace. I don't know how long it took us to catch Eric. I had lost track of time as I sat there, trying not to lose my breath, trying not to lose Nick's wheel, my focus switching from Nick's head to his saddle to his wheel and back up again until I saw Eric just a few lengths ahead. "I'll be damned," I thought as we all sat up momentarily to greet one another and take a quick break. As I glanced behind us, I saw Jaime rolling up to us. He took the lead and the rest of us fell in behind him. The pace was much harder than I would normally put up with, but sitting behind three boys allowed me to hold on for a little while while they took turns pulling. Our human train rolled on for several more miles, silent except for the steady hum of chains flowing over cogs. Eventually I realized how tired I was getting and that we still had about ten more miles left, so I sat up and watched as the boys soldiered on. The rest of the crew was still a ways behind me, so I rode alone for several miles, pacing myself to ensure I'd make it back to town without bonking.

Soon enough, I rounded a bend and saw Jaime, Eric, and Nick waiting on the side of the road for the rest of us to catch up and regroup. As we stood there waiting, we realized that we should have seen Nixon by now. He had flatted on the way out and told us to go on, figuring he'd catch us on the way back. But he was no where to be seen. We decided he was probably waiting naked behind a rock to jump out and scare us or perhaps he had decided to go for a swim in the nearby river. Nixon is like that. You never know what he's up to. The rest of the group caught up and our reunited troupe minus Nixon resumed our casual pace back toward town. Before long, we caught sight of a pony-tailed figure walking a bike just ahead. Apparently Nixon's attempt to fix his flat was thwarted by a spare tube with a hole in it. So we had another roadside break while 5 completely (usually) competent bike mechanics struggled to fix a flat tire. They boys finally succeeded and we merrily rode back into town, stopping along the way to replenish our lost calories with burgers and fries.

Back at the hotel, we rewarded our efforts with showers and naps before parting ways in the afternoon. Tori went to visit a friend, Eric took another nap, I caught up on some reading, and everyone else went for a mountain bike ride. We all met up again for one last dinner together in Moab before we all went our separate ways. Veggie burgers all around, of course.

I only managed to snap a couple pictures, but one of these days Nixon will get that video up. Until then, here's all I've got:

Meet Me in Moab.

2008-09-29T12:50:00.000-04:00

We rolled away from Blondie's Diner hoping to make it the rest of the way to Moab that night. We should have known that a glorious day can't last forever and that the night would catch up to us and drag us down until we finally gave in and stopped for the night. Exhausted and dirty, we checked into the Richfield Marriott for some showers and sleep.

Morning came around too soon, but it brought another bright day and the promise of more adventures for our wandering little group. We drove across Utah at a leisurely pace, stopping every so often for gas, food, a nice view, and to harass each other. We made it into Moab on Sunday afternoon, just in time to settle in and meet up with our good friend Nick from Fox. The five of us walked over to the Moab Brewery where Nick insisted that we all "get on the program," which meant ordering the following: A veggie burger, server picks the cheese, onion rings, and no pickle. I have to say, that was hands down the best veggie burger I've ever had.

Monday mornings are notoriously lame for most people, but not for us. We slept in a little and then hopped on our bikes and rode down to the Jailhouse Cafe for breakfast. I'm not usually a big fan of breakfast, but that place had it nailed. Scrambled eggs with a billion different vegetables and cheeses mixed in, fat thick strips of bacon, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and hot tasty coffee that didn't spill in my lap.

After breakfast, we rode back over to Chile Pepper bike shop to stock up on stuff we'd need for our ride. We got back to the hotel to get ready and to drop our dirty laundry off next door so we'd have clean clothes for the rest of the week instead of going around like the dirty stinky gypsies we really are. We took off down the road to the trail head and before long, I was riding in Moab for the first time.

And I hated it.

First it was the sand that pissed me off. I felt like we were riding through the world's biggest litterbox. Then we got past some technical sections and I thought maybe the fun part would start. Not so much. The whole trail was one technical sandy section after another with a few patches of slick rock thrown in. Not my style. Toward the end of the trail, Tori and I were trudging through the sand all pissed off and poor Nixon was riding along next to us listening to us bitch and talk shit about Moab in general. At one point, Tori and I paused our whining to wonder where Nixon had disappeared to. He had just been behind us and he hadn't passed us, but we couldn't see him anywhere. Suddenly we saw a figure on a bike pedaling rapidly toward us. As he got closer, we could tell he wasn't going to slow down. Then we realized why. He was naked except for his shoes, holding his clothes in his hand as he whizzed by us. We just kinda looked at each other and then laughed, grateful for the comedic relief.

It had been a hard, hot day and Tori and I were quite displeased with our ride. Our sour moods didn't help the boys much, so it was a quiet ride back to the hotel. Showers and naps soon rallied our spirits and once again our merry troop went in search of food. Tori lived in Moab once, so she knew of a great spot to eat. As the sun dropped, bringing on the cool evening, we sat under strings of bare light bulbs laughing at one another over several bottles of wine and huge plates of local fare. We were all spent and pretty tired from the finished day and we knew the wine would bring sleep to our heads before long. We spent the rest of the evening catching up on e-mails, making plans, and watching mountain bike videos before dozing off in anticipation of an early morning road ride.

One of Those Days.

2008-09-28T15:44:00.001-04:00

As I sat down to breakfast next to Nixon, my standard hotel coffee from the breakfast bar was suddenly replaced by a fresh cup from the coffee shop in the lobby, courtesy of Troy. He's good like that. As the four of us chatted about our plan for the day, I gratefully took a sip from my paper cup. Whoever happened to be talking at the moment (Nixon, I think), was loudly interrupted by me quickly jumping from my chair and saying "oh shit ow fuck that's hot ow." I hadn't noticed that the coffee shop lady hadn't gotten the plastic lid all the way on the cup and, consequently, blazing hot coffee had spilled in my lap, McDonald's style.

That's how my day started.

While I was upstairs changing pants, the rest of our crew had been talking to a couple of guys who had just been to a trail called Thunder Mountain. They were raving about it and Troy was in the mood to try out a trail he hadn't been on yet, so we finished breakfast, printed some directions, and off we went. The trail wasn't too far out of our way to Moab and we'd get to drive through Zion National Park to get there, so we figured we had a pretty good plan. However, the crew at the gate to Zion didn't agree. They took one look at The Superliner and said, "Nope." There were some tunnels and steep windy roads through the park and they were pretty sure Troy's rig wasn't going to make it through. We hatched a new plan. Troy found a spot on the side of the road just before the gates and parked there. He and Nixon put all the stuff they would need in Tori's rig and the lady at the gate laughed at us as we went through.

We had a lovely drive through the park. In some places, we all gazed up at the massive bare rock formations cut jagged by wind and water, crowned with proud arches. In other places, we marveled at the maze of deep canyons slashing through the sandstone. And everywhere in between we admired the vast spectrum of colors cloaking the landscape. We made it through the park and back onto a normal boring highway. We managed to entertain ourselves for a little while with the camera:

But that could only last so long. Then there was the incident of the angry boner ... ahem ... Nixon (two boners in two days!). And finally we arrived at our destination.

Clouds loomed overhead, but the weather forecast claimed they wouldn't fall. Not that it mattered, we were intent on riding, dry or not. We took awhile getting ready, pumping up tires, checking shock pressures, and in general, just kind of messing around. We were all hungry for single track by the time we started pedaling. Unfortunately, we had about 2 miles of climbing on a paved trail to conquer first. Tori and I reached the top ready to hit the trail, but we had to stop so Troy and Nixon could share an intimate moment:

We left the paved trail and followed some double track for a bit. Soon enough, the meandering double track gained some focus and got down to some single track business. We cruised down quick descents that plunged us into a sparsely populated forest and every so often, we would climb out of the trees and up onto small expanses of exposed rock where we would be rewarded with astonishing views, each vista unique in its picturesque offering. At one such peak, the four of us peered down in eager anticipation at the trail etched in the desert panorama below us. It carved its way through the brush and pine trees, crept around the stoic silent hoodoo formations, and flowed like water through the arid basin. We stood there for a while, observing, until our excitement got the best of us and pulled us back to the trail. After miles of winding and rolling over the playful terrain, the trail spit us out across an old wash bed and back onto some double track. We thought the ride was pretty much over, assuming this double track would take us back down to the parking lot. My legs were spent and starting to cramp and I knew this was going to be a painful last two miles. Nobody was in a hurry, though, so we started to just slowly cruise along. Troy and Tori rode ahead and Nixon stayed behind me to keep me company. The trail started to roll downhill, a welcome relief to my exhausted legs. Suddenly, Troy and Tori were out of sight and I realized that the trail had once again narrowed into lively single track. It was the kind of tumbling single track that makes you forget you were tired. It makes you forget your problems and makes your cares drop away like autumn leaves. As we floated down that earthen river, I think we all forgot, for just a few minutes, that there was a world outside of this place. Without warning, the dirt turned to gravel and we found ourselves in a parking lot. No one said anything. We couldn't find the words. Troy took one gloved hand off his handlebar and held his fist out to Nixon, who silently bumped it with his own in return. That pretty much summed it up.

We rode out of the parking lot and back onto the paved trail. At that point, we all realized how hungry we were. The soundtrack for the rest of the short ride back to the car consisted only of us talking about food. We reached the car, greeted by Ms. Spokes Tumbleweed (Troy's dog) and took off back in the direction we had come. We wound our way back through Zion. The towering rocks and plunging canyons stood unchanged except for their once bright and burning hues that had darkened along with the sky. We reached Troy's truck and decided we'd stop for dinner somewhere along our way. Less than a mile later, Troy pulled over and we were sitting in a booth at Blondie's Diner devouring our well-earned cheese burgers. After that, we drove a little way toward Moab and then decided to stop for the night in Richfield, too exhausted to go any further.

Every once in a great while, we all have one of those days. The kind of day where nothing can go wrong. Where, even if something did go wrong, it wouldn't matter anyway. The kind of day that, when you look back upon it, you feel humbled and grateful and you swirl the memories around in your head, hoping they never go away.

This was one of those days.

The Beginning.

2008-09-28T12:30:00.001-04:00

As Tori and I walked back to the car from our In-N-Out feast, we looked at the clock and realized how late it was getting. We were leaving Vegas several hours later than we had planned. We would either be driving into the wee hours of the morning to get to Moab or we would be stopping somewhere along the way. After a short while, we heard the cell phone's anxious chime. The text message told us that our traveling companions were only a half hour behind us, so we stopped in St. George, Utah to wait for them.

We found a Starbucks and went in and sat for a little while, recounting our Vegas stories and repeatedly exclaiming how much fun we were going to have in Utah. Suddenly, Tori's gaze fixed upon something outside. "There they are," she said, pointing at the unmistakable looming figure of THE SUPERLINER, piloted by none other than the intrepid Troy, around whom countless wild legends and rumors swirl like mists on the mountain tops:

Does that remind anyone else of that scene with the ship in Spaceballs? If anyone knows where to get a bumper sticker that says, "We brake for nobody," please send one to Troy.

After a quick discussion in the parking lot, we decided to call it a night there in St. George. We checked into the St. George Mariott and ordered a pizza since it was too late to go anywhere and we were all pretty beat anyway. As Tori and I settled into our room, she noticed a couple making out in the pool just below our window. They were being wildly inappropriate, so we scurried down the hall to let the boys in on the fun. Right about then, the lovebirds decided to move from the pool to the hot tub. First the lady got out and then her man followed. Imagine the wholly immature glee and excitement that came over the room when the guy stood up, proudly sporting a huge boner. Don't judge us. You know you've laughed at someone's boner before too.

So that was pretty much the highlight of our night. We were all exhausted from the week before and needed to get some rest for the week ahead. We slept in the next morning, had some breakfast, and prepared for our excursion to Thunder Mountain, which deserves a post of its own, so get ready for that.

Bright Lights City.

2008-09-27T17:30:00.000-04:00

For those of you playing along, yes, I did backdate this post. And yes, Sarah, I can do that. It's my blog and you're not the boss of me.

Anyway.

Chris and I managed to endure our entire 5 hour flight to Vegas without actually speaking to one another thanks to our arsenal of books, iPods, and video games. I think somehow we both knew damn well that the flight there would be the last part of the trip to go quietly. And we were right, of course. Our cohorts Tori and Lindsay were waiting for us at the airport when we landed and there was much rejoicing. After our obnoxious reunion, the four of us headed out to the parking garage to Tori's car. We couldn't find it. Tori and Lindsay forgot where they parked. After dragging our luggage on and off the elevator, across the lot and back, and up and down the stairs a few times, Chris and I finally sat down and told Tori to come pick us up when she found the car. Then we made her take us to In-N-Out burger, which was awesome.

The next day we met up with the rest of our crew out in Boulder City to set up for Interbike's Outdoor Demo (our reason for being in Vegas in the first place). It was a long, hot day and the sandy desert wind was brutal, but it was fun to get to see all of our industry pals again. Then we spent the next two days busting our asses to get as many people on bikes for test rides as we could. Of course, we did make some time for shenanigans, including a repeat of last year's Monday night ride that ended under the moon and a drunk sushi waitress who danced a lot and called us motherfuckers.

Wednesday morning we headed over to the Vegas strip to join in the festivities surrounding Interbike. Chris decided to be a loser this year and flew out of Vegas on Wednesday afternoon, so Tori and I drove over together to check in at Treasure Island. I'm kind of a big deal, so when I checked into my room, I got upgraded to a suite with a jacuzzi. The lady who was checking Tori in told her that free upgrades were done randomly, but I'm pretty sure she was only saying that to make Tori feel better about her inferior room. We parted ways at that point but then met up later with some other friends to go watch CrossVegas, which turned out to be pretty cool. Nick and I ended up calling it an early night, but word on the street is that Tori and Troy had a hell of a time. I was a little sad to miss that, but then again, I'm not the one who stayed in bed all day Thursday. Besides, I knew I'd have plenty of time with Tori and Troy the following week.

I actually did a little bit of work on Thursday. By "did a little bit of work," I mean, "I stood around drinking and talking to people." My boss and I were supposed to go to the crit races together that evening, but she bailed, which was alright because then Nick and I got to use the VIP passes she had to eat free dinner and sit around drinking free beer while not actually paying any attention to the races. We had an extra VIP pass, so I found my friend Lisa to come join us. She actually wanted to see the race, but we were sitting down, so she yelled at this random guy in a suit to get out of the way, at which point, he took our picture:

I know. Random.

Friday was departure day for Tori and me, but Nick didn't have to work, so the three of us went to lunch at Hofbrauhaus, which turned out to be a very good call. It was relatively quiet since it was lunchtime, but I have a feeling that place is super fun at night. All the tables are those long picnic table ones and if the restaurant is full, you sit with groups of strangers and drink beer and there's a dude in lederhosen playing German music and doing tricks and stuff. He also drinks beer. If anyone wants to go, call me, cause I wanna go back and have more of these really huge beers:

So with our bellies full of beer and delicious German food, Tori and I bid the City of Lights adieu and started east toward Utah for a long and eagerly awaited retreat with some of the bike industry's most brilliantly shining stars (in our minds, anyway). But we stopped at In-N-Out burger first.

I promise there will be more pictures of that adventure. Believe it or not, the two pictures in this post are the only ones I have of my time in Vegas, and I didn't even take them.

The Garden State.

2008-09-19T17:54:00.004-04:00

I didn't have any events scheduled after the one in Baltimore, but I needed to spend some time getting ready for Interbike. Once again, I was faced with a choice:

Choice A: Spend three days driving back to Arkansas, rush to get ready to fly to Interbike, have no time off, fly to Interbike, fly back to Arkansas, spend two more days driving back out east to Raleigh.

Choice B: Spend two hours driving to Chris's parents' house in southern New Jersey, take my sweet time getting ready for Interbike, have some time off, fly to Interbike from Philly, fly back to Philly, spend a day just hanging out, spend one day driving south to Raleigh.

It was a pretty easy call. So, I've been in Jersey all week hanging out with Chris and her parents. Chris and and I got some bikes boxed up to send to Vegas and we got some other bikes built to put in our trailers. Plus, I got ALL of my laundry clean, including the massive pile that was in my cargo box. I got in plenty of laying around time and plenty of sleeping in time. You could say it's been a pretty good week.

Of course, we had plenty of time for shenanigans, including a trip to nearby Atlantic City and a bike ride over to the boardwalk at Ocean City for some incredible pizza and tasty fudge:

Some people eat Power Bars on the bike, but we prefer Pumpkin Fudge. That's how we roll. Now we're both finishing our packing for our flight tomorrow for some scorching Sin City bike slingin' action.

Boston Tea Party!

2008-09-16T10:47:00.004-04:00

Sitting on the ground on the platform at the Amtrak station, I thought to myself, "Man I really feel like a hobo." Then I wondered, "Why do movies always show hobos at the train station?" I had just spent the morning in a furious rush to get to the station on time only to have to sit there and wait for a train that was running late. Soon enough, the train rolled in and I was on my way to Boston to see my old friend Kristin.

I had told Kristin I wanted to do some honky touristy stuff while I was there, so she graciously obliged me with a Duck Tour. It was definitely an easy way to see the highlights of the city and our driver was funny to boot. There weren't very many opportunities for cool pictures, but I did manage to snap one when our driver pointed out the Prudential Center, where Kristin and I were planning to go later on for drinks, dessert, and a cool view:

After our Duck Tour, we wandered around Boston a bit, doing some shopping and checking out a few of the points of interest from our tour. Then we headed back to the house to change and get ready for our venture to Top of the Hub:

If you ever find yourself in Boston for a night, Top of the Hub might be worth your time. And order the cookie plate. Because I said so.

We slept in the next morning and then headed out for dim sum. Or something. All I know is they didn't give us any forks, but my chopstick proficiency was surprisingly adequate considering I rarely eat Asian cuisine. Kristin, however, could kill a person with those things:

After we'd stuffed ourselves with various sorts of dumplings, we headed over to the Sam Adams Brewery for a tour. Of course, there were plenty of other places in Boston we could have toured, but this was the only one that offered three glasses of free beer. The tour was a lot shorter and a lot less intensive than I expected, but I was okay with that. That was just less time standing there to get my free beer. After the tour we managed to have a nice stroll in the Boston Public Garden:

Don't judge me. You can't walk past that statue and resist the urge to jump on it. By the time we finished walking around the garden, it had started to rain, so we sat down for some tasty dinner and beers and then decided to call it an early night at home. The next morning I bid Kristin farewell and hopped the train back to Baltimore.

And for the record, I didn't see a single hobo at any of the train stations.

My Hooptie.

2008-09-09T23:29:00.002-04:00

Once again I'm venturing out of my usual territory, but that's a good thing because I get to come see places I haven't seen before. I was in Washington DC today and was planning on riding my bike on the Mount Vernon Trail, but it rained. Bummer. So then I decided I'd better at least get some work done. While I was sitting there, my pal Susan near Baltimore called and said they were going to cook-out and drink beer all afternoon. So I hightailed it out of DC to come have some fun. Susan has four kids, so there's lots of neat toys around. This thing was the first to catch my eye when I got here:

Yes. Anywho, that's all I really have for now. Don't worry. There's guaranteed to be some incredible stories in the next few weeks, including but not limited to:

A trip up to Boston.
Another night at Susan's house.
A few days with my nemesis, Chris.
A trip to Vegas.
A Phil Lesh & Friends show.
A Galactic show.
Quite possibly a Widespread Panic show.

Sweet. Alright. I gotta get some rest. I've got a lot goin' on soon!

Shenanigans.

2008-09-02T22:45:00.004-04:00

Why haven't I posted in well over a month? I've been busy, alright? In fact, I'm still busy, so all you're getting is a summary. But don't worry. I'll make up for the lack of stories with a couple pictures.

I started the month of August with a women's mountain bike camp down in Dallas. It pretty much went like this: ride, eat, drink beer, sleep a little, repeat. We also sprinkled in some intense ping pong, launching cakes off teeter-totters, and a whirling dervish:

Then it was on up to Wisconsin for our annual sales meeting/dealer show. If you weren't there, it's tough to explain. If you were there, then I don't need to explain. In any case, it sure was good to see Matt:

And TJ and Ken:

And everyone else. Except the Beavers. Has anyone seen the Beavers?

I ended August with a bang at the family reunion in Branson. All I'm gonna say is this: I don't think our family is going to be invited back to that resort.

Cute Leetle Seester:

Livin' the High Life:

Out of control:

Cousin ... OWNED:

As much fun as all that was, it's good to be at home for a couple days. Even though my to-do list is seven miles long, I'm still making sure to get some quality time with some quality people:

Before I go, one last item. I received a comment on my last post from the infamous Melissa in Asheville requesting that I post this video of Becky having an intimate moment with Melissa's dog Dino. Since Melissa was such a gracious hostess while I was in Asheville, I feel obliged to go ahead and put it up. It's probably only funny if you know Becky, but then again, somebody getting humped by a huge dog is usually worth at least a chuckle. Make sure you can hear the sound:

And ... I'm out. I promise, better stories soon.

Bikes, Blobs, and Beer.

2008-07-24T23:17:00.004-04:00

After my time in Virginia, I still didn't want to bust my ass getting home just so I could sit on my couch being worthless, so I went to Asheville, North Carolina because my coworker Tom said I could stay at his house for free. I figured, "Hey, it's a hell of lot less driving and I can just sit on his couch being worthless." Although I ended up not sitting around all that much. My arch nemesis Becky (yeah, the nasty broccoli lady) came to Asheville for a completely unrelated reason, but Tom and I still coerced her into going riding with us on Thursday:

After our ride we had some lunch and then it was time for me to drop Becky off at her other friend's house. I had originally planned on parting ways with her at that point, but that's when the trouble started. "Come up and have a beer," she said. Well, I'm sure you all know how quickly "a beer" can turn into "several beers." So I ended up hanging around for a little while. And I found this unbelievably enormous rabbit:

Pretty soon the afternoon had started winding down to early evening and well, I didn't have anything else to do, so why not keep the party going? Tom's house (where all my stuff was) is pretty far from Melissa's house, so I figured I would just take a shower there and surely I could find something I had in my spare clothes stash that I keep in my car to wear. Turns out, I didn't have as much in my stash as I thought I did, but I found something that would work:

No, really though. I put that on thinking it would be a quick funny joke and we'd all chuckle and everyone would like my pretty dress, but then I would go back and put on my usual jeans and a t-shirt. Not so much. The other two fools put on dresses too and off we went:

Of course, people stared at us, so Becky decided we needed some sort of reason to be all dressed up. This is what she came up with: "We're dead celebrities." At the time I was like, "Whatever," but now that I really think about it, wouldn't we also need a reason to be dressed as dead celebrities? Either way, people didn't seem to buy it.

As expected, Friday morning rolled around a little too soon for my liking. I'd slept at Melissa's house, so I got up and went back to Tom's place, hoping to get some stuff done. I didn't really get that much done, but at one point, I was driving back into town and this little silver car passed me and honked a lot. I looked over to see my long lost pal Nixon! Nixon spends half the year in S. Florida (where I first met him and coincidentally where Becky lives) and half the year in North Carolina. Nixon is not one to rely on communicating via cell phone, so he pulled off at the next turn and we had a brief moment of running toward each other with reckless abandon followed by making plans to meet up later.

And so we did. And he made me spill my beer by jabbing his finger in my armpit while someone was taking a picture of us:

The little festival we were at closed down, so our crew headed over to some other bar that was pretty much just a bunch of people standing around on a fire escape drinking. But it was a cool view and it was a nice night. On our way there, we passed a place making kettle corn. To me, this was unremarkable. To Becky, this was phenomenally exciting. I know. Who gets that excited over kettle corn? Becky does:

We were already pretty tired from the events of the previous day, so we made it a relatively early night. Then I finally got around to spending some quality time with Tom's couch over the weekend.

I couldn't leave Asheville without hanging out with Nixon some more, so I went to visit him at the summer camp where he works. "Why didn't you guys just go out on the town again?" you might be wondering. "Why not go ride and then go eat and drink?" Here's why:

And, for the record, we did go ride after that. And after that we ate and drank.

Virginia is for Lovers.

2008-07-16T10:46:00.000-04:00

Things I Loved About Virginia:

Lots of bridges. I'm fascinated by huge bridges.
Lots of ships. I'm also fascinated by large ships.
She-crab soup. So tasty it feels like my tongue is trying to hug my brain.
Other delicious and plentiful sea food victuals.
A delightfully fun bike ride with some good people:

Camping next to a river with a six pack, a notebook, and a pen. Oh, and a fire:

My Tuesday morning excursion:

I guess that last one deserves a few more details.

After a weekend of work in Virginia, a state which I had previously never visited, I decided to stay a few more days to check some things out. Mostly I just didn't want to drive anymore. It would've been over 20 hours to get back to Arkansas ... sheesh! So I spent some time with my ass parked at the local Starbucks trying to catch up on admin work and also trying to straighten out a few things with my bank account. I also did a little sleuthing around the information super highway to see what this Virginia Beach area was all about. I stumbled upon some information regarding Back Bay National Wildlife Refuge and False Cape State Park. Apparently the only way to access the state park is by walking or riding your bike on the 4 mile trail through the refuge. Then you've got another 7 miles or so through the state park. So I decided to check it out. I was hoping to take one of the half-mile spur trails in the state park over to the Atlantic Ocean to catch a nice view of the sunrise, so I crawled out of my tent at 5:00 am to ensure a good show. After commending myself for getting up ridiculously early, I hopped on my bike and headed toward the refuge in the quiet pale pre-dawn light. I was clearly all alone in this endeavor as I left the pavement and hit the gravel at the entrance to the refuge. I rode quietly past the looming 2-story sand dunes on my left and the vast marshy expanses to my right. While looking to my left and right for wildlife in the scenery, I also glanced up a few times, hoping the clouds would clear away enough to watch the sun make its daily debut. Neither the trail nor the landscape changed as I entered False Cape State Park, the only indicator of which consisted of a typical brown state park sign with carved-out letters painted white. A few more miles later, I passed the contact station, but didn't stop. I didn't need water or trail maps or anyone to tell me to be careful. I passed the first spur trail leading to the beach and decided to continue on to the next one a few miles down. The further south I went, the less likely I was to have to share the beach with other humans. I found the second, less-used beach trail and headed toward the sound of the Atlantic smacking into the shore. After only a few hundred yards, the dense dirt floor covered by oak leaves and pine needles succumbed to the loose sugar sand between the towering dunes. Trying to pedal through became futile quickly, so with my bike in one hand and my shoes in the other, I plodded the rest of the way to the edge of the continent. Much to my dismay, the clouds still hung in the air like century-old cobwebs. I knew the sun had risen, but I couldn't see it. "They can't all be winners," I thought to myself as I laid my bike and backpack down. I tasted the unmistakable bitterness of salty sweat on my upper lip and decided it was time to cool down a little. After a quick swim in the surf, I settled down on my towel for a much-needed hour-long nap. As the sun finally broke through the clouds, the sudden heat woke me up, telling me it was time to get moving. I retraced my path back through the state park and continued on through the refuge, my belly commanding my legs to move faster as visions of lunch dominated my thoughts. I rolled up to my car with barely enough energy left to hoist my bike up onto the rack. I rinsed off at a nearby hose, hurriedly changed clothes, and drove toward town in search of food. The sign at Margie & Ray's Crab House boasted the best She-crab soup in the tidewater area, and I wouldn't disagree. Then again, I was so hungry, they could've told me it was the best She-crab soup in the universe and I would have gone along with it.

Rothbury Festival.

2008-07-13T18:28:00.006-04:00

After the fun times in Wisconsin, I hopped a ferry across Lake Michigan to meet up with Kellen for the first annual Rothbury Festival. This was the highlight of my summer, no doubt about it. Kudos to the festival organizers for doing a terrific job. We didn't have to wait in line at all to get in on Thursday afternoon and the people doing car searches and directing traffic were friendly and easy to work with. The walk from our campsite to the festival grounds was relatively short and pleasant. Beer and food were reasonably priced and the vendors were strategically placed so that regardless of our location, we never had to walk far for sustenance. There were more than enough trash stations and each of them had three cans: one for compost (all the cups, plates, and napkins were made from some sort of corn plastic), one for recycling, and one for landfill trash. They even had a worker at each station to remind all the drunk people which can to put their trash in. There were tons of porta-potties and they were a lot cleaner than I expected them to be. And then there was Sherwood Forest:

That was the main walkway through the festival grounds. Trippy. Needless to say, everyone spent a little time just hanging out in the trees between music sets. Someone did a hell of a job putting that place together. Mother Nature smiled upon us with the best weather we could have asked for: around 80 during the day and then dropping to around 55 at night. I was pretty stoked about dancing while wearing my favorite fleece. It wasn't until Sunday night after the festival was over that we got slammed with an intense thunderstorm. But that turned out to be awesome because it started raining right after I crawled into my tent and it was cool to lie there and watch the lightning.

As with most experiences, it's quite a task to try and convey the atmosphere in mere words, so, for your viewing pleasure, some photos:

We found that watermelon for $5 at the local farmers' market and thought it was a wise purchase to help us rehydrate. But then we realized that we didn't have anything to chop it up with, so I sat there cutting chunks out of it with a knife. I was trying to fashion a helmet out of the rind, but I got bored with it well before it started to take any form.

You might be wondering what that last picture is supposed to be. Well let me tell you what it is. It's this spun out crazy lady at the STS9 show who was walking around the crowd with a lit torch. She was all yakked out and moving through an entirely non-sober crowd with AN OPEN FLAME. I was pretty uneasy about the whole thing, so I snapped a picture and then moved far enough away to avoid any potential blazing disasters. That's the hilarious problem with STS9 ... too many freak shows.

I didn't really take too many videos. I was in the moment. But here are two that some other people posted that are worth watching. First, you have to see this crazy monkey tree thing. It was mesmerizing. It had a bunch of drums at the bottom of it and when people would bang on the drums, the thing would go around. When we first saw it, my friends and I looked at each other and said, "Is this really happening?"

I've never been one of those huge Dave Matthews fans who refers to the man as "Dave," like he's my best friend or something, but I've also never been one of those music snobs who loves to hate "Dave." In general, I could take him or leave him. I wouldn't go out of my way for one of his shows, but he was there and he was also the only one in that time slot. The show was good, but it was unremarkable until the encore when he did this:

I just lost it during that. My composure, that is. It's a good thing we were further back in the crowd where there was more room for uninhibited dancing like maniacs. I've been bouncing around the last couple days randomly singing to myself, "Thank you ... for lettin' me ... be myself ... again."

After all was said and done, these are the artists we had seen:

Mickey Hart Band featuring George Porter Jr. and Steve Kimock
Railroad Earth
The Beautiful Girls
Tea Leaf Green
Snoop Dogg
Yonder Mountain String Band
Widespread Panic (with 4th of July fireworks!)
Primus (first live show in three years!)
Thievery Corporation (the last 20 minutes of the set)
Bassnectar
Michael Franti & Spearhead
Dave Matthews Band
Sound Tribe Sector Nine
Trey Anastasio
Gov't Mule
Phil Lesh & Friends

I was pleasantly surprised by Bassnectar. That was one hell of a bumpin' set. However, I would have to say my top three favorites were: Widespread Panic, Yonder, and Phil Lesh & Friends. After seeing Phil Lesh & Friends, I've been unable to fight the urge to listen to Grateful Dead songs while driving. In fact, both Mickey Hart (the first set we saw) and Phil Lesh (the last set we saw) played Fire on the Mountain, and so now that song has been stuck in my head all week:

Okay. That's enough for now. Rothbury is over. I need to accept that and move on. I need to get back to work catching up on my admin instead of sitting here watching all of the YouTube videos people posted from the weekend.

And so it begins.

2008-07-03T10:00:00.003-04:00

My last day of work in Chicago was on Sunday. Chicago just happens to be 2 hours from Madison where some of my bestest friends reside. So I went there on Sunday night to hang out with the Fossen crew and Maggie and Jereme. The Hotel Fossen provided all the usual amenities: super tasty food, adult beverages, cute furry friends, wireless internet, laundry facilities, and of course, the best company a kid could ask for. There are lots of places on the road that feel just as good as home, but the Fossen house is the most comforting by far. Besdies, the spare bedroom there is pretty much mine, as evidenced by my award plaque that Heath hung up in there last August.

Since my employer is also based out Wisconsin, I decided I might as well pop into the office to say hey and catch up on a few things on Monday. That night the Fossens and I caught up with Maggie and Jereme over some hella good pizza. So I got a little work done and was also relieved to find that Maggie isn't holding against me the fact that I was a total asshole to her when she came down to visit me. I'm still sorry, Mags.

On Tuesday, I headed over to Milwaukee to see Railroad Earth and Yonder Mountain String Band at Summerfest. It was fun and the shows were good, but Summerfest is a pretty lame venue. I thought the sound quality was sub par and they also had these rows of metal bleachers in front of the stage that turned dancing and even just navigating the crowd into a perilous pain in the ass. I still had a good time though. You can't let stupid little stuff like that get in the way.

Wednesday was a better day, though. Some pals from work came over to go see O.A.R. It rained quite a bit before the show, but we were cool with that. We just stood under some tents and got our drink on. By the time the show started, the rain had passed and it had turned into a lovely evening for dancing with friends:

I've always liked O.A.R. despite what a lot of my friends think, but this was the first time I'd seen them live and I have to admit, I was a little disappointed. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that they also played the night before and that the venue wasn't that great, but the show wasn't as good as I thought it would be. Don't get me wrong though, it wasn't bad and we still danced all night:

Next up, crossing the big lake for a glorious reunion and four days of sweet music festival action.

Chi-Town Shakedown

2008-06-29T10:06:00.001-04:00

I'm venturing out of my normal territory quite a bit this month, but I can't complain. This time last year, I was sweating buckets and swatting bugs down in Louisiana and Mississippi. Let me tell you, when it's late June, I'll take Chicago over Baton Rouge any day. I've really only driven through Chicago and spent a little time in the suburbs, so it was fun to get to spend a couple days downtown. Of course, there was some work involved, but our location was definitely one of the coolest of the year:

It's tough to beat a beautiful day on the shores of Lake Michigan. The only downside was our close proximity to the hot dog vendors. I probably gained 5 pounds from root beer and hot dogs alone. You can't not eat a Chicago-style hot dog (or 3) when you're hanging out right there.

Of course, we made some time for antics after work was done:

Leah and Angie, I thought of you guys when I was at the Art Institute and saw this Picasso painting called "Crazy Woman With Cats." Apparently this is what you two will look like someday:

No trip to Chicago would be complete without catching up with my old friend Rob. We used to kick it together down in Arkansas until he decided to grow up and get a real job looking at spreadsheets and talking about money all day long. It took a few hours to get him to stop talking about gross profit and ridiculously expensive neckties, but soon enough we decided that we wanted to go swimming in Lake Michigan. Unfortunately, it was a little cold for that kind of thing. Until Rob remembered that he had some wetsuits we could put on:

That was a fun little adventure. When we were done swimming, we didn't feel like changing again, so we walked the mile or so back to his apartment looking like ninjas. Or scuba divers. Or idiots:
If you can't tell, I had an excellent time in Chicago, but after six days in a row of working, I've found myself in the midst of summer needing a vacation, so I'm out.

Hotwire.

2008-06-17T02:08:00.002-04:00

Keeping with the current trend, I have nothing of value to add to this blog. I've got nothing to say. Except for this:

Hotwire.com is the shizzle. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, it's one of those "opaque channels" where you choose a nameless hotel room based on location, star rating, and of course, price. Only after you've paid for the (non-refundable) room do they tell you which hotel it is. A lot of people I know just won't do it. They can't stand the thought of plunking down their hard-earned cash for an anonymous hotel room. I used to be one of those people. Not anymore! I'll admit, it's a gamble, especially when you're booking a 2 or 3 star hotel room. I've stayed at some pretty shitty "3-star" hotels. I haven't been brave enough to book anything less than a 4-star hotel though them. That's where the odds are. 4-star hotels are where the gamble has paid off for me. I've used Hotwire 4 times this year and here's where it's gotten me:

The InterContinental in Miami. Regular price: $199.00 Hotwire price: $104.oo
The Crowne Plaza in Orlando. Regular price: $180.00 Hotwire price: $104.00
The InterContinental in Milwaukee. Regular price: $249.00 Hotwire price: $109.00
The InterContinental in Chicago. Regular price: $289.00 Hotwire price: $122.00

The only time I've been disappointed so far is at the Crowne Plaza. That was no $180.00 hotel room. I don't know where those bastards got off calling themselves a 4-star hotel. It was all old and shitty and the service sucked. I'm not even sure it was worth the c-note I paid. I haven't actually stayed in Milwaukee or Chicago yet, I've just booked the rooms. However, the reviews for both of these places are quite promising. Besides, they're both in their respective downtown areas and even the 3-star hotels nearby cost just as much if not more per night.

So there you go. I'm sorry I haven't had anything hilarious for you lately. I just don't have it in me lately. You'll have to settle for some traveling advice instead.

47 lbs ...

2008-06-10T13:12:00.002-04:00

That's how much cheese is sitting in our refrigerator. Stupid Helen and her stupid MBA.

Sometime last year, Helen decided to put on her big girl pants and go back to school to get her MBA. Until today, I have applauded this effort. Until today, there was not 47 POUNDS OF FREE CHEESE in the refrigerator. You're probably wondering what 47 POUNDS OF FREE CHEESE has to do with Helen and her MBA. As a matter of fact, Helen's MBA is the reason we have all this cheese. As part of her degree requirement, Helen took an internship with Land O Lakes for the summer. While Land O Lakes is most often associated with butter, they also make delicious cheeses. Apparently they randomly give out free dairy products every so often at the office. Apparently Helen felt like we needed 47 POUNDS OF FREE CHEESE.

You might be wondering why I'm so upset about 47 POUNDS OF FREE CHEESE. Most people who know me would think that I would be pretty stoked about 47 POUNDS OF FREE CHEESE. Normally those people would be correct about my stoked-ness.

But here's the catch: I've sworn off cheese (amongst other delicious things like beer and Dr. Pepper) until after July 4th weekend. I was getting too fat, so I had to do something about it. I even told Helen about this last week. She knew that I'm trying not to eat cheese. So what does she do? She brings home 47 POUNDS OF IT. FOR FREE.

Oh, and Pip put a bunch of beer in the fridge too.

I'm purposefully avoiding opening the refrigerator.

Ugh.

2008-06-03T02:38:00.002-04:00

I am in a serious funk lately and I really don't have anything good to say. But, I vowed to post more often than Chris, so here's some crap that might make you chuckle, since I have no intention of even attempting to write anything worth reading.

Useful Pie Chart

Stuff White Trash People Like

Weekend on the Water

2008-05-27T00:45:00.004-04:00

I've got a pretty busy summer ahead of me, so I decided a weekend at home this holiday was in order. I spent the weekend getting some much needed rest and some much needed quality time with my roommates. I also spent some time on the water in the form of a Friday night paddle on the lake and a Sunday afternoon float down the river. I'm really tired and need to get to bed, so I'll spare you the stories for now and just let the pictures do the talking:

Cool Spider.

Pip looking very manly.

Cute kids.

Awfully dark out there.

River full of rednecks.

Nice day for a swim.

I don't know why Helen is making a weird face.

Classy.

Make sure you can hear the sound on this one ... it's important:

Trash Talkin'

2008-05-15T16:05:00.005-04:00

I actually wrote this last week on Thursday, but I haven't had much internet access since then, so I'm just now getting around to posting it.

After working a big event at Disney World last weekend, I had to come down to the Tampa area for some smaller events during the week. My friend Becky was nice enough to let me stay in her condo in Sarasota all week. I was pretty stoked about that until this morning. I had the worst experience I've ever had involving a bag of garbage.

Becky and I were both staying in the condo on Tuesday night. We rode bikes and had lunch on Wednesday morning and then Becky left town. I went up to Tampa to work an event. After my event, I came back to Sarasota. It was still relatively early and I was bored, so I walked down to Main Street and had a few drinks at one of the bars. I walked back to the condo and when I opened the door, my first thought was, "It kinda smells in here." But like I said, I'd had a few drinks, so it didn't seem like such a big deal at the time. So I ignored the stench and went to bed.

I woke up to the sound of my tummy rumbling this morning. I was starving. So I put on some clothes and walked over to a little cafe across the street for breakfast. After devouring some bacon, coffee, and hella good grits, I walked back over to the condo. I had completely forgotten about the stench I encountered last night. I received a wholly unpleasant reminder, however, as soon as I opened the door. Before I even walked in, I was assaulted by a palpable putrid wave of sheer funk. I had to pee pretty badly, so I bolted for the bathroom to take care of business. As I walked out of the bathroom, I wondered what the hell could be causing such a nasty awful odor. The entire condo was nearly uninhabitable, but it didn't take me long to figure out that the kitchen was the scene of the crime. I thought it was a little odd since there wasn't any food. The refrigerator contained only beer, wine, water, and a box of baking soda. I thought, "Maybe it's the garbage disposal." So I sniffed around the sink, but that didn't seem to be the problem. Just in case, I dumped some of the baking soda in there and ran it for a minute. I decided to give it a few minutes to see if that, but some stroke of luck, took care of the problem.

I went outside and made a few phone calls. After a few minutes, I came back in and nearly fell over as another wave of nausea punched me in the face. In just a few minutes, the air inside the condo had become considerably more toxic. There was still something in the kitchen trying to kill me. Taking extremely shallow breaths, I walked back into the kitchen and turned on the light.

There it was.

I had forgotten about the small plastic grocery bag of garbage that Becky had left in the corner. As soon as I saw it, I remembered her pointing it out and telling me to use that for garbage while I was there and to take it out before I left. That had to be the perpetrator. I walked over to it, picked it up, and instantly threw it back down. Holy shit! Now the kitchen smelled like a thousand decaying zombies had just crapped themselves while throwing rotten eggs at each other. I stumbled out of the kitchen gagging and holding my shirt over my nose. I stepped outside, leaned against the railing and took several deep, much needed lungfuls of fresh air.

I leaned back and dreaded what I would have to do next. I would have to go back into the reeking inferno, pick up the fetid festering bag of death, and somehow dispose of it without throwing up all over Becky's place. I collected myself and thought, "Alright. The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can go back to hanging out inside the condo without having to wear a gas mask." I took one last hugely deep breath of outside air, ran inside, grabbed the bag and bolted outside, holding it at arm's length. As soon as I got back outside, I figured it was safe to breathe again. Wrong. Whatever was in that bag was POTENT. I stopped and gave the bag in my hand a bewildered look. Then I gagged again and remembered to keep running. I rounded the corner to head down the stairs and felt a sudden jerk from the bag. I brought myself to screeching halt, hoping I had stopped before the bag ripped open. I freed the bag from the hand rail that it was caught on, gave it the once over, and concluded that it had not ripped. Thank God. I got downstairs and looked around for a dumpster. I needed to get rid of this thing. I didn't see one, so I figured, "Okay, it's probably on the other side of the building." My car was right there and I didn't have a lot of time to be wandering around looking for the dumpster. So I decided I would leave the bag next to my car and when I left later, I would put it on top of the car and drive by the dumpster and finally be rid of the foul thing.

I felt pretty good about my plan as I walked back upstairs. Right as I was walking in, my phone rang. It was Becky. I had sent her a text message earlier about her incredibly rank ass condo, so she was calling about it. "I don't know what it could be," she said. Then a pause. That pause you do when you suddenly recall a pertinent fact. "You know what, I did throw away this broccoli stuff. That could be it." Well, at least then I knew it probably wasn't a severed head or anything causing the problem. I tried to go about my business, but after only a few minutes, I couldn't take it anymore. The place still stunk like a zoo. A zoo full of sick elephants. I searched around and managed to find some "room freshening" spray in the bathroom. Thinking this would help, I sprayed it quite liberally around the condo. I could see the mist rising from the can and then starting its gradual descent toward the floor. It didn't take long for the cloud to drop to about the same height as my head. It was about that time that I came to a terrible realization. You know that feeling you get when you realize you've just done something stupid and you can't take it back? That's how I felt. That "room freshening" spray smelled like ass. Granted, it was better than the broccoli from hell stench, but still. What the hell, Becky? Did you have to buy butt-scented spray? Would it have been that hard to just get some Oust? Then I started sneezing. A lot. I sneezed three times in a row, paused, and sneezed three more times. Wow. I needed a break. I went outside for a minute and then came back in. Three more sneezes. Not only did this "room freshening" spray smell terrible, but it was irritating the hell out of my nose. I couldn't take it anymore. So I opened all the doors and windows and turned on all the fans. I took a shower and by the time I got out, the air in the condo was once again breathable.

You might be thinking that was the end of the broccoli from hell saga. I wish I could say that were true. I finished getting ready and went out to my car to leave. I got within five feet of my car and could already smell the bag of death. Ugh. I still had to get rid of this thing. I decided that putting it on top of my car and driving it to the dumpster was probably a bad idea. Too many things could go wrong. Then I remembered seeing a pretty good-sized trash can near the recycle bins. It could go in there. So I picked up the bag and started walking across the parking lot. I was walking pretty fast and didn't realize how much the bag was swinging. I also did not realize that actually had ripped the bag on the handrail earlier in the day. Don't worry though, I figured out both of these facts soon enough. I was walking along and the bag hit my knee. Then a small, slightly moist cardboard box bounced off my knee, hit the top of my foot, and broke open. I froze.

UNBELIEVABLE!

Some warm wet chunks covered my foot. The foul rank funk invaded my personal space once again. I just stood there, looking up at the sky in disbelief. No way this could be happening to me. I was afraid to look down. I picked up my foot to kick the broccoli from hell into the bushes and was successful, for the most part. But I hadn't noticed that when I picked up my foot, a small piece of devil vegetable had fallen between my foot and my flip flop. So when I took my next step, I felt the unmistakable squish of soft rotting broccoli underneath my foot. I gagged and then stood there fighting off the urge to cry. Luckily I spotted a water spout, so I walked over and rinsed everything off. I went and picked up the nasty ass cardboard vessel of filth and threw that in the trash along with the ripped bag.

I went back upstairs and sprayed the hell out of my flip flop with some Febreeze. As I walked back down to my car, my moist left flip flop already starting to irritate my foot, I thought, "Stupid Becky. I'm never eating broccoli again."

Gator Wrasslin!

2008-05-07T21:05:00.002-04:00

I had a long exhausting weekend last weekend, and next weekend is going to be long and exhausting too, so I decided I'd better take today off and go paddle with my friends. So Jeremy, Casey, and I loaded up on sandwiches, Cheez-Its, and beer and paddled out to the Gulf:

Yes, that is an alligator following Casey. His name is Phil. Yes, those are water wings on my arms. Safety first. Yes, that is a floating cooler and it's awesome.

We paddled up this creek until we got to a beach that led over to the Gulf. So we landed our boats and hung out on the beach for a little while. You could really only reach this beach by boat, so we pretty much had the whole place to ourselves.

I'm all set.

Classic.

By the time we paddled back, we had decided that some ice cream from Marble Slab was in order. After eating delicious ice cream, we headed home. Apparently we didn't get enough time in the water earlier, so we hung out in the pool for a little while. Aspen, the resident dog, was pretty stoked to be kickin with us until Jeremy and Phil harassed him and scared him:

Anyway, it was nice to get out and paddle and play in the water before it's time to get back to work. Sorry I don't have any great stories. I figured the pictures would be good enough.

Keepin it Together.

2008-05-02T12:07:00.004-04:00

I managed to make it all the way home after my event in St. Louis last Friday night. Needless to say, I was some kinda exhausted when I finally made it to the house around 3am.

It was good to be home though.

Normally I have a very hard time being productive while I'm at home, but this time around, I really didn't have a choice. I had a shit ton of stuff to do and not very much time in which to do it. I only slept for 8 hours that first night home, which is a pretty far cry from my typical habit of spending the whole first day at home in the safety of my bed.

Anywho, I did manage to squeeze in some quality time with my roommates. Helen and Brett and I went down to the Dickson Street Music Festival to catch Michael Franti & Spearhead. It was an awesome show and well-worth the time and money. Plus, we ate some killer corn dogs and a funnel cake. I also took the cutest picture of Brett and Helen of all time:

Of course, there was plenty of incredible dancing to go around, but Brett was kind enough to show us how it's done:

After Franti, we headed over to George's to see Blind Melon. We waited in line for a billion years, then we stood around inside for another billion years all for a show that turned out to be "just okay." Oh well. It was late and we were getting tired, like old people, so we went home to hang out with Pip. I forgot what Brett was trying to tell Pip in this picture, but it must have been something good:

I was super proud of myself for getting a lot done in my four days at home. Granted, I didn't do everything I needed to, but that's alright. I just had to take a few things off the "to-do" list and move them to the "to-do later" list. I completed an epic drive down here to Florida and now I've got to go get a few things ready for the weekend, which is going to be incredible.

And ... I'm out.

Stupid People.

2008-04-25T16:18:00.002-04:00

It's been a pretty busy week, so I don't have much for you in the way of good stories or pictures. I've been driving, doing events, and trying to stay caught up on boring admin work. My back is getting much better, but I'm still pissed about it. The weather all week was perfect for sleeping in the car and I could have easily made arrangements for taking showers. I could have spent very little money on hotels this week. However, I decided to do the responsible thing and get a room each night so I could sleep in an actual bed and (hopefully) return to my normal spry self soon. So on one hand my back feels much better, but on the other hand, that's a lot less money going into my IRA ... or to the bar.

Anyway, I've been heading back west this week and now I'm in St. Louis for my last event before wrapping up this trip and hightailin' it toward the house. By mere coincidence, my parents also happen to be in St. Louis for a funeral. I don't see my parents very often, so I was pretty pumped about getting to meet up with them. They got here yesterday. I had originally planned on getting here today after driving in from Nashville, but last night I got all excited and I wasn't tired, so I just drove straight through and got here around 2am. When I got out of the car at the hotel, I suddenly realized that I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was check into a room, find out which room my parents were in, and go to bed.

Before I paid for a room, I wanted to make sure my parents were indeed at that hotel. I was pretty sure they were, but you never know. So I asked the front desk guy if there were any guests checked in with the last name Rushin. He gave me a momentary blank stare and asked if I was a guest there. I told him, "Not yet. I want to make sure I'm in the right place." He replied with, "I can't release that information. Do you want a room?" I resisted rolling my eyes at him and proceeded to state my case. I said, "Look, my parents are here and I was supposed to meet up with them tomorrow afternoon in town. I've found myself here a bit early and I want to let them know I'm here. If they're at this hotel like I think they are, I'd like to have a room here too."

At this point, most of you are probably thinking the same thing this guy was. He looked at me like I was stupid and asked, "Can't you call them or something? Don't they have a cell phone?" Now, I'll give him that. I would have asked the same thing. So I calmly replied, "Well, here's the thing, they're deaf. They don't have cell phones because ... well ... it wouldn't really do them much good So no, I can't call them."

Then he sighed and asked me for my ID. I gave it to him. Then he typed on the keyboard a little and then said, "Alright, yeah, this must be them. Last name Rushin and there's a note for housekeeping that they're hearing impaired." Sweet. I felt like I was getting somewhere. So then I told him I'd take a room. He got all that going and then told me that since the parking lot was full, I'd have to park my trailer in the back. I walked back and checked out where he wanted me to park. It was fine except there was no way my parents were going to see it when they came outside in the morning. I had been planning to leave a note on my car letting them know what room I was in. I told him this and he just kinda stared at me. So then I asked him if he would give me their room number so I could just slip a note under their door. He replied with, "Oh, no, I can't do that. Security reasons."

Okay, let's get one thing straight right now. I'm not a difficult person. I understand things like this. But I already explained my situation to this guy. It was late. I was tired. I was not in a good mood. So I said, "Alright, I understand that, but I've already told you I can't get ahold of them and I need to let them know I'm here." So he offers this helpful solution, "I tell ya what, call this number on your cell phone and I'll just put you directly through to their room."

Seriously. That's what he said. I gave him my best "you're-an-idiot" look and said, "That's awfully nice of you, but like I told you before, they can't hear. How do you expect them to know the phone is ringing, let alone pick it up and talk to me on it?" Then he started to get a little huffy with me and irritatedly said, "Well, if you'll just leave them a voicemail, the light on the phone will blink until they check it."

I wish I could come up with an effective way to convey the heavy silence that accompanies pure paralyzing displeasure as a result of another person's phenomenal incompetence. Throughout this whole ordeal, my anger had been slowly soaring at about the rate that a feather would fall to the ground. Except instead of gently landing on the floor, my rage hit the roof. On the inside, I completely lost my shit. I was this close to just letting that moron have it. But just as I opened my mouth to let out a wicked stream of profanity, I somehow collected myself. I closed my mouth, took a deep breath, and and proceeded to speak to him in a calm and clear manner.

"Sir. I don't think a voicemail is going to work either. I've already told you this. They ... can't ... hear. Yes, they will see the light blinking, but they won't be able to do anything about it. They can't hear the phone ring, they can't hear the voicemail, THEY ... CAN'T ... HEAR. I am not making this up. You saw the note that was left for housekeeping. You saw my ID. I have the same last name. They are my parents. I need to leave them a note. I know you're just doing your job, but this is not a typical situation. Would you PLEASE help me out here?"

He gave me a resigned look and said, "You're not going to let this go, are you?" I shook my head and said, "I need to let my parents know where I am, otherwise I might not get to see them." So he sighed and typed some more and said, "Can you do this for me? Verify some of their information?" I replied with, "Sure. If that'll make you feel better." And I rattled off their address. He sighed again and said, "Alright, I'm not supposed to do this, but they're in room 150, right down the hall from you."

Finally! Was that so hard? I bid the poor idiot adieu, collected my things, left my parents a note, and hit the sack. At nearly 3am. Only to be woken at 8am by my mother who would not stop pounding on the door. I crawled out of bed, put on some clothes, and hugged my mom. She had no idea what I had gone through to see her this morning and I didn't have the heart to tell her that knocking two or three times would have sufficed. I was just stoked to see her. A little while later, as I was checking out of my room, the front desk lady asked if everything had been alright with my stay. "It was just fine," I told her. "Just fine."

2008-04-21T20:37:00.003-04:00

Last week was an excellent week. I didn't have any events, but driving home just to turn around and head right back east seemed like a hell of a lot of time in the car and not very much fun. So I wandered over to Tennessee to hang out with some old friends for a few days. Wednesday was Kellen's birthday and he just happened to be in Tennessee too. And guess who else just happened to be in Tennessee? Widespread Panic. Yeah:

Before Incredible Dancing

After Incredible Dancing

It was a pretty fun show. The next day Kellen and I parted ways. He was heading down to Orange Beach to see ... three more Panic shows. You could say Kellen likes Panic. I had to make my way eastward for some events this weekend, but not before stopping in Knoxville Thursday night to see Galactic (again) and then Perpetual Groove. It's not like me to go to shows by myself, but two bands I really dig just happened to be playing on the same night in the same city and I found myself thinking, "I can't pass this up."

So Galactic was first. Not long after they started playing, I noticed this guy:

Not really the kind of person I would expect to see in the middle of a Galactic show, but hey, he seemed to like it, so more power to him. He was a surprisingly agile dancer for someone walking around with a cane.

Toward the end of the show, I was getting all excited and having a great time when I saw this little dude out of the corner of my eye:

I was over-stimulated. Beside myself. So excited. Holy crap! A sweet ass Galactic show AND a cute puppy! That show ended pretty early, but luckily I found some people who were also going to Perpetual Groove, so we had some beers and did a happy walk over to the next venue. Pgroove is one of my favorite bands, so I was stoked to be at that show. Okay, so I was stoked to be at all of the shows, but I was more stoked for Pgroove. That show was everything I hoped it would be. As far as the music goes. The light show was sub-par, but hey, I'll take what I can get.

So, after FOUR (Galactic opened for Panic) great shows in two days, I shouldn't complain, but I will. My back is KILLING ME. Seriously. This shouldn't be happening. Getting out of bed hurts. Putting on clothes hurts. Driving my car hurts. I'm pissed off about it because I had today off, for the most part, and I was planning on riding on some of the sweetest trails around in the Pisgah National Forest. It was going to be so awesome. But there is no way my ass is getting on a bike feeling like this.

Oh well. I guess I'll just lay here eating my flan (God bless those Mexicans and their weird yet delicious dessert) and watching Family Guy.

Sweet Birthday Cards!

2008-04-16T11:35:00.003-04:00

Four of my friends have birthdays today:

Kellen
Becky
The Pope
My Uncle Frank

I'll just call #3 and #4. But for #1 and #2, I painstakingly crafted these one of a kind e-cards:

The first one is Kellen's. The second one is Becky's. I hope they like them. I worked as hard as I possibly could while still sitting on my ass.

E-cards: when you care enough to hit "send."

Uneventful.

2008-04-14T23:30:00.003-04:00

Not much excitement to report since my last post. I guess it's all down hill after a rockin redneck party weekend in the north Georgia hills. I spent most of last week in Atlanta where I did far more drinking than I had originally planned and thus, far less riding my bike. I did have some good times with some good people though. From Atlanta I headed to Birmingham for another weekend-long event, which was also very much fun, although significantly less eventful than my previous adventure. It rained like hell the first night and started to get cold, so I put myself in charge of making a hella sweet fire:

I did manage to get in a much-needed mountain bike ride on a really cool trail. I started out on what I think must have been the crappiest section of trail. It was a ~3 mile climb on a rocky fire road and I wasn't too excited about it, but I figured that it was better than not riding. Finally I got to the top and got to descend for about 2 miles, which was fun, but it still wasn't the singletrack I was craving. Finally at the bottom of the fire road I started riding through some actual trails. It was pretty rocky, but still fun. Then, toward the end, just before it started getting too dark to see the trail, I reached a 2 mile long section of trail that was as smooth and flowy and fun as any trail I've ever been on. It was the best ride I've done in a long time, and I was glad that I saved the best part of the trail for the end. I was really tired by that last two miles, and that section of sweet trail lifted my spirits, enough so that I didn't even mind having to ride 3 miles on the road to get back to my cabin.

I don't have any events scheduled this week, but I have to be in Raleigh on Friday. It's a long ass drive to go home and then come back out east, so I'm crashing with some old friends from OKC who have relocated to Manchester, Tennessee. Another one of my surrogate families, I guess you could say. This weekend will mark the start of a pretty busy week, 6 events within 7 days and each of them are 3-6 hours apart. So that's gonna be lots of driving and talking to strangers and not much down time, so I'm trying to make sure I'm caught up on random stuff before then. Oh, and I get to help Kellen celebrate his birthday on Wednesday in grand fashion, so I'm sure you'll hear about that soon enough.

Sorry for the boring post. At least I'm not telling you about the difficulties I encountered while eating a salad. Sorry, Chris, it's been awhile since I've made fun of you for anything.

Monkey Fists and Roasted Peeps

2008-04-06T21:18:00.006-04:00

Okay, first of all, the Yonder Mountain show last week was fabulous. Turns out, I had my hopes up for good reason. See how much fun we had:

NOW ON TO MORE CURRENT AFFAIRS.

I had to go work at an event in North Georgia this weekend that was organized by the Wild Turkey Federation, or as I like to call it, the WTF. It was basically a weekend of outdoors-related clinics and classes for women. It was AWESOME.

I knew this event was going to hoist the bar a few notches and set a new standard for atypical events as soon as I rolled up the mile-long driveway to the Wildlife Club. I creeped along not really knowing what I was looking for when shotgun blasts punched the air around me. Holy Shit! I kept going, just hoping they weren't shooting at me. Before long the clubhouse appeared and I figured out where I was supposed to set up. While I was setting up, I noticed that I was definitely an outsider there. I was the only person not wearing at least one item of camouflage clothing and I didn't have any Confederate flag stickers on any of my stuff. Several people eyed me suspiciously as they rode by with shotguns mounted to their four-wheelers. I got all my stuff set up and then the local bike shop guy and I had to give two presentations on mountain biking. Then we got women set up on bikes and Mike, the bike shop guy, took them out on a ride. While they were gone, I had some time to check out what else was going on around us.

I walked up to the clubhouse in search of some water. I opened the front door and stepped right in the middle of what appeared to be a pretty intense round of ... get this ... Possum Tossin. They were throwing stuffed possums into various buckets to score prizes. I tried to walk around that whole racket and found myself in the middle of yet another wildlife-based activity. These women were sitting around learning how to fashion elegant and useful baskets out of deer antlers. I overheard some other women who were waiting on their next classes to start.

One woman asked another, "What class you waitin' on?"
The other woman replied, "Monkey Fistin."

Don't give me that look. You think you're confused? How do you think I felt standing there in a camo-clad PETA nightmare wondering if I had heard correctly?

I started talking to some of the organizers of the event who were hanging around overseeing everything. They suggested that I stay and camp with them that night around the bonfire. I told them I'd think about it. As I walked back out onto the porch, I was greeted by a large jolly fellow who also insisted that I stay for the evening festivities. He informed me that he'd be providing the main entertainment of the evening. He told me he was a storyteller and that tonight, he knew he wasn't playing to no group of Scouts, so he was gonna be pushin the envelope and keepin everyone on they toes.

I walked back to my trailer thinking to myself, "This is gonna be soo good. There is no way I'm missing this."

So, I pitched my tent over with all the other tents and then went back to the clubhouse to await the pushing of the storytelling envelope. The last of the evening's classes were still wrapping things up, so I stood outside and talked to the lady in charge of the whole she-bang for a little while. She was actually pretty cool and we were having a pretty good conversation about nothing in particular when I let my curiosity get the best of me. There was a slight pause in the conversation, so I turned to her in all seriousness and asked, "What's Monkey Fisting?"

I cringed as I awaited the answer. I just knew it was going to be something stupid and I was going to get dragged into it. She got all excited and told me all about Monkey Fisting. She told me it was really neat and that it only took about ten minutes to learn and that I just had to learn to do it myself. She really didn't give me a choice. She took me by the elbow and dragged me in to find the guy who could teach me about Monkey Fisting. You're probably getting worried now because I haven't told you what Monkey Fisting is. Turns out, it's actually kinda neat and is potentially useful. Monkey Fisting refers to the act of tying a Monkey's Fist knot in a rope. This guy was pretty passionate about Monkey Fists and knots in general, so now I know a lot more than I did before about knots and ropes and the practical uses of both. So there you have it. I know some of you are probably relieved to find that Monkey Fisting is nowhere near as inappropriate or harmful as it sounds. I also know that there are a few of you out there who are actually disappointed at the same news.

By the time all that was done, the bonfire had been lit and that large jolly man from before was just getting warmed up. When I got over to the fire, the first thing I did was looked around the circle to figure out just who was drinking beer and who wasn't. I inserted myself near the beer drinkers and soon found myself taking long cold swigs of Milwaukee's Best. Keepin it classy. I could try to use words to describe the scene that took place around that fire, but this will work better:

You won't be able to see much in the video, so this photo will help you to better imagine the scene to go along with the sound:

I'm not even sure what to follow that up with. I was standing there with my camera wishing any of my friends had been there so I could look at them in disbelief and silently mouth the words "Are you seeing this?"

I stood there the whole time getting excited about when this dude was gonna "push the envelope." I was overwhelmingly disappointed when I realized that his idea of "pushing the envelope" was telling a story that ended with a moral advising listeners not to light a match in a tent where you had just farted.

After the story telling was done, most everyone went off their separate ways except for about 8 of us who stayed around the campfire to roast marshmallows. Someone had the most brilliant idea to bring marshmallow peeps to roast. I can't believe I've never thought of that. It was incredible. We'd all been drinking so anything any of us said was just hilarious to everyone there. I woke up in my tent the next morning and realized that really only some of the that stuff was funny, but one thing was for sure: roasting marshmallow bunny peeps is one hell of a bright idea.

Over it.

2008-04-01T02:43:00.008-04:00

Alright. I'm over the Bleh. I'm still having a hard time being consistently productive during my time here at home though. The last few days have been filled with long periods of general uselessness punctuated here and there by relatively short bursts of productivity. So, as usual, I'm going to be cramming the next few days trying to get everything done that needs doing before I leave for Alabama and Georgia. For example, I've got to deal with this crap fest we normally call the garage:

Anyway, I'm happy to report that I'm writing this post from my now-functioning MacBook. Turns out the hard drive had just crapped out. The good news was that it got replaced under warranty for no charge. The bad news is that there was no hope for data recovery. I lost all of my SUPER TOP SECRET files. Oh well.

Most of my week was uneventful. Although I think I could classify Sunday as A SUPER GOOD DAY. I got up around noon and Pip asked if I wanted to go down to Cafe Rue Orleans for some Cajun brunch. Of course I did. We sat next to the window and watched the rain drench College Ave. The coffee was great and the food was even better. My crawfish corn bisque and crab cakes hit the spot, although Pip's grits were looking pretty tasty. We both had work to do on bikes, so we came home and hung out in the garage for a little while. I was trying to finish building up a sweet ass new bike, but it kept giving me grief. I cussed at it a lot and ultimately ended up throwing a piece of cable housing down and storming away from the whole lot. That was NOT SUPER GOOD, but not enough to ruin my SUPER GOOD DAY. Pip and I cruised on down to meet up with two other dudes to go on a road ride. The weather was still a little gloomy, but at least the rain had stopped. About halfway through the ride, the weather turned from gray to great and my pal Kevin snapped a few photos:

We climbed some big hills that I would have avoided if left to my own devices, so here's a cheer to riding with stupid boys. I had mentioned during the ride at some point that I was on Day 8 of not drinking, so after the ride we moseyed on over to Common Grounds were I proceeded to take a flying leap off The Wagon in true Ross style. We had a few beers and a little food before heading home to get cleaned up so we could go back to Dickson Street for even more beers and good times. I'm not gonna say it was a crazy night or anything, but it did involve Jagermeister, awkward situations, Irish Car Bombs, and that song about Luckenbach, Texas. Oh, and I gave my sister's phone number to a cross-country runner from Zambia who wouldn't leave me the hell alone. I finally crawled into my bed around 1am and just before I passed out I thought to myself, "Man, that was really a SUPER GOOD DAY."

Last time 'round, I promised to post some pictures of my week with Maggie. Problem is, we didn't take that many. But here's a couple with a video thrown in for good measure:

Maggie apparently missed the memo about Blue Jersey Day.

This is my new coworker TJ.

And here we have Maggie's ringing endorsement of kayaking. Sorry I screwed it up with my fat finger.

That's all I've got for now, but I'm going to catch the Yonder Mountain String Band show tomorrow night at George's, so maybe I'll have some good blog fodder after that. I've got my hopes up for this one, especially if I can convince Helen to take a break from stupid grad school to go with me. Really, who needs an MBA?

Bleh.

2008-03-25T18:32:00.002-04:00

It feels like it's been an eternity since I last posted. It probably feels that way because my computer has been broken this whole time. Bummer. I came home Sunday night, so now I'm on my pile of crap Dell, but it'll have to do till the dudes at Megabyte can fix my Mac.

So my week with Maggie was fun, for the most part. I was being a real asshole for part of the time, so I felt kinda bad about that. Sorry, Mags. I don't know what my deal was. The majority of it was fun though. We got some hilarious pictures and videos, but I don't know where I put my camera, so that'll have to wait. I did learn one very important thing during my time with Maggie: Sonic Java Chillers are INCREDIBLY DELICIOUS. Anyway, photos later.

So now I'm home trying to get over my usual slump that always occurs when I come home from being on the road for awhile. I always sleep till noon on my first morning back and then spend the rest of the day being relatively unproductive. I was in a particularly bad mood yesterday, so I decided I might as well make an already bad day worse by doing my taxes. No sense in ruining any of my other days at home, eh? I thought I was prepared for my taxes, but nope. I had already paid in a couple grand, so I didn't think it would hurt so bad when I actually filed. Nonetheless, it did hurt. Let me tell you this: self-employment taxes are a huge bitch. That's all I have to say about that.

Well, I'm now on day 2 of being home and I'm still feelin' kinda bleh. I don't have time for this crap, so I'm gonna go for a run and try to shake it off and get movin. I've got an unbelievable amount of crap to do and I'd like to get a few long rides in, so I gotta get after it.

Party On!

2008-03-16T23:20:00.003-04:00

Okay. I've cooled off a bit since my little "incident" with the rude lady in Miami. I had to work this week, so I really don't have that much exciting stuff to report. Kellen did send me a few photos and videos from Langerado, but I'm still having technical difficulties, so I'm only posting a couple:

The above photo was taken during my incredible dancing time. I've already told several of you the "incredible dancer" story, but for those of you who haven't heard it, this is how the conversation went:

ME: I like your dancing!

RANDOM STRANGER: Thanks!

ME: Do you like mine?

RANDOM STRANGER: Yeah!

ME: I know. I'm an incredible dancer!

I know. I'm ridiculous. I have no credible excuse. Here's a video of some of the incredible dancing (it's toward the end and you can't see it all that well, but whatev):

I recall feeling like I was doing a damn good job at dancing and being very concerned about getting the magic on record.

If you couldn't tell I was a) pretty stoked to be there and b) quite intoxicated.

I also got this sweet video from the Sound Tribe show. It was pretty intense to have some killer music, a wicked sweet light show, and an impending severe storm all at the same time:

Anywho, sorry I don't have a lot to write about. I've been working my ass off the last five days and I was fortunate enough to squeeze in two really good mountain bike rides, so I'm pretty spent. Don't worry though, I'm getting to hang with one of the best members of my crew this week. My friend Maggie hopped a plane from Wisconsin to come spend her Spring Break with me this week, so stay tuned for the hilarity.

RUDE.

2008-03-11T11:32:00.003-05:00

Holy crap. I am this close to outright beating someone's ass in this Starbucks. I try not to write ranting blog posts, but this deserves an exception. So here's what happened:

I was sitting in my own little corner at Starbucks minding my own business. I got up to use the restroom. As I was walking, I noticed a lady walking behind me. I thought to myself, "Sweet, I'm gonna get to use the restroom before this lady does." I should note at this time that I hate using the restroom immediately after someone else does, especially public restrooms, which I hate in general. Don't even get me started on mall restrooms. I digress. Anyway, I opened the door to go into the restroom, which was a one-person-at-a-time kinda deal. In fact, I've never been to a Starbucks that didn't have a one-person-at-a-time restroom. So as I walked into the restroom, this lady started walking in after me. I turned around and gave her a weird look and she said, "Double?" This lady was clearly of Hispanic descent (by "Hispanic" I mean "Cuban." I am in Miami, after all) and I don't think she spoke much English, which is annoying in its own right. Learn the language of the country you're living in. So I just responded with, "Uh ... no." And I pointed at the ONE toilet. I had stepped aside a little while holding the door open so she could see that there was only one toilet and that she was going to have to wait until I was done. I don't know about you all, but I would think that at that point, it would be clear to anyone that she should just chill out and WAIT HER FUCKING TURN.

You're probably starting to get an idea of what this a-hole did next. She walked right past me and used her huge Cuban ass to SHUT THE DOOR, thus pushing me back out into the hall. I loudly whispered "BITCH" and banged my angrily closed fist on the door. I didn't really know what else to do, so I just stood there and waited for her to come back out. As she walked out I gave her my best "What the hell?" look, but it didn't phase her. She didn't even look at me. So I angrily did my business in the bathroom. I had no desire to get my ass kicked by some nasty Cuban lady.

Can you believe this crap? What an asshole, right?

Sorry for all the swearing. I'm pretty pissed off still. Now I'm back in my corner trying to figure out which car is hers so I can go outside and slash her tires.

Stupid Google.

2008-03-10T16:00:00.003-05:00

I was all stoked to post some pictures of my family, my dog, and my weekend at Langerado, but no ... Google/Blogger is being a little bitch and not uploading my photos. Next time, I guess.

Anyway, my event in OKC was hella good. Not only were my friends and family in attendance, but we had over 100 women there, which is pretty damn good, especially for Oklahoma City. I'd like to show you some pictures, but we've already discussed why I can't.

So then I was home for one day this week, which I had originally planned on using for a day off. Not so much. I ended up with a to-do list a mile long and I only got about half of it done. Oh well. Then I took off for Florida again. I left my house later than I planned, as usual, so I had to book it to get down to the Everglades for Langerado, which was incredible. We had to endure thunderstorms, freakishly bitter cold (for S. Florida, anyway), and fire ants, but it was worth it. I don't have any pictures yet because we took all of them with Kellen's camera, but I promise to post them when he sends them. We got some hilarious videos too.

Highlights from the weekend include:

Meeting some super cool new friends around our campsite and hanging with them all weekend.
Eating the most delicious corn dog I've ever had.
Watching all the ridiculous things that go on at music festivals.
Incredible dancing.
Seeing some great music from STS9, Railroad Earth, Beastie Boys, The New MasterSounds, Thievery Corporation, and Disco Biscuits.
Seeing R.E.M.

I wasn't really all that excited about R.E.M. until we actually saw them. They put on a great show. They played a couple of their classic songs and then a couple off their upcoming album. I particularly liked their performance of a song called Houston off their new album, including Michael Stipe's introduction to the song where he said:

"I'm sick to death of being told by top politicians what I should be afraid of and what I should fear. I think I'm smart enough and old enough and experienced enough and wise enough to know what I should fear. And what I fear is politicians telling me what to fear. What I want is politicians who speak of hope."

It was pretty cool, I thought. Maybe you just had to be there. Or you could just watch the video someone took of it:

Anywho, I've been spending today just trying to get back to functioning like a normal human, or as close as I can get, anyway. I don't have any events until Wednesday night, so I'm hanging out down in Miami. I'm trying to get a lot done today so I can go paddle my boat tomorrow and take advantage of the beautiful weather.

Over and out.

Moving Right Along.

2008-03-03T01:50:00.004-05:00

I had to leave San Antonio on Thursday, but first, we made time for a mountain bike ride. My pal Laura has always been pretty adventurous, so it would have been a shame not to go ride bikes together. All I have to say is that the trails were too confusing, but I had a great time anyway. If you want details, Laura has summed up the morning quite nicely here. I will go ahead and post my two favorite pictures from the morning's festivities.

Laura knows what's up and has the same camera that I do. So I showed her how to use the self-timer on hers. You should have seen me haulin' ass up those stairs after I pushed the button on the camera.

I learned the hard way that if you go down a hot slide headfirst, you'll burn your tummy.

So then I had to leave my borrowed family behind and make my way to Austin for work. I have a lot to say about that, but this is not an appropriate forum for that discussion. A friend of mine (Jodie) who I met last year through another friend (Julie) let me stay at her place in Austin, so that was a pretty good bonus. Jodie is one of very few people I know who likes to read as much as I do. Plus, she took me to Homeslice, which I was pretty stoked about. The great thing about Jodie is how our effortless friendship fits in perfectly with my laziness.

Those of you who have been following along the last few weeks might remember mention of my day at the Sea Food Festival with Kellen. He finally sent me some pictures.

While we were enjoying some delicious crab cakes, this drunk guy came and sat by us and kept offering us some of his crawfish. Then he didn't know how to eat the crawfish, so some lady had to show him. Then he offered us his crawfish again. It was funny, but annoying. That's him next to me .

We saw this sign on the way back to the car. Actually, this yard had two of them. I resisted the urge to take one even though it would have looked really sweet on the door of my trailer.

The festival was supposed to be closed for the night, but we found this petting zoo and couldn't help ourselves. Here's Kellen molesting a chicken.

Well, kids, I'm in the midst of a pretty busy week, so I should really get to sleep now. I'm pretty excited about my event tomorrow night because MY MOM is coming. Also, MY DAD and MY SISTERS are coming. I love MY MOM and MY DAD and MY SISTERS. I've also got a few really good friends from my high school days coming. I've got to be sure I don't screw this up. Don't worry. I'm sure there will be some hilarity either way and I'm sure you'll hear about it.

Oh, and Chris, I see you're throwing down the gauntlet here, with your two posts in two days. But I know you. This is a fluke. Your relentless blogging will not last. I was flattered you mentioned my voicemail though.

Let's Go To Luckenbach Texas ...

2008-02-27T23:50:00.008-05:00

... with Waylon and Willie and the boys ...

Some of you out there are probably singing along right about now. Most of you probably don't know what the hell is going on here. In any case, I suggest downloading a little Waylon Jennings (specifically the song about Luckenbach) to have some accompaniment music for this post.

I didn't have any events the last three days, but it really wasn't worth it to me to drive home from Houston on Sunday just to have to drive back down to Austin tomorrow. So I decided to borrow my friend Sarah's family for a few days since they live in San Antonio. Today was a very special day. Sarah's mom Candy and her sister Laura and I went on a Texas Hill Country Roadshow Extravaganza.

First we went to the Sister Creek Vineyard in Sisterdale. It's this really old cotton gin that they turned into a winery. Before we did the wine tasting, we took a tour of the place. The first thing I noticed was this flag:

Is it just me, or does that seem dirty to anyone else? Come on, admit it. You were thinking the same thing. Apparently that's supposed to be a cannon. That's bogus. Every cannon I've ever seen has had wheels on it. I don't see any wheels. I know. I need to get my head out of the gutter.

Moving right along, we found these cavernous empty vats. According to our self-guided tour sheets, they are for bottling the wine. I found that they were also pretty good for making some killer echo sounds:

We checked out some more stuff back there, but it didn't take very long. Sister Creek is just not that big of a place. Before we left we stopped to try a few of the wines. I thought they were pretty good, but then again, you're talking to someone who equates "expensive wine" with "gallon jugs." Here's Laura and me enjoying some wine tasting:

We left the winery and headed toward the famed Luckenbach, Texas. I've heard the song at least a hundred times, so it was high time for me to go check this place out for myself. Besides, Candy said it was cool. We pulled up and the first thing I said was, "Is this it?" Sure enough, it was, all ten acres of it. We stopped to take a picture outside the general store, a 150 year old building held together by splinters, mud-dauber nests, and old cowboy melodies:

The general store offered a surprising amount of Luckenbach merchandise for such a tiny little town (Population: 1). The best part though, was the bar. You know what they say: When in Rome (or Texas) ... so I bought a cold delicious Shiner Bock to accompany me on the rest of our stay. Actually, Candy bought it cause I didn't have any cash. We walked out back to the stage where some notable and not-so-notable country greats come to play. I can imagine how lovely it would be to sit out there on a summer night singing along to my favorite Willie Nelson songs with a little help from my good friend Shiner. Another time, perhaps. Today we just stood on the stage and acted like idiots:

We moseyed over a particularly treacherous-looking bridge to check out the idyllic campground next to the river. Someday soon I would really like to pitch my tent there and stumble back over that rickety bridge to it after a rockin' outlaw country show. For today, we just climbed a tree for the hell of it:

We stopped back by the store on our way out so I could get a sticker to put on my trailer. I was feeling friendly after finishing my tasty Shiner, so I started chatting with the guy behind the counter. The he asked, "Do you have a feller, Arkansas Girl?" I replied with, "Nope, do you wanna be my feller?" He said he would very much like that. So I guess if I ever get the urge to drop everything and move to the middle of nowhere in South Texas, I could shack up with this dude:

I probably won't though.

We rolled out of Luckenbach and went to see the home of Lyndon Baines Johnson. That, however, is a whole 'nother story in itself. Let me just say that it was hilarious. I think I will also take this opportunity to publicly apologize to Candy for laughing so hard at her I cried. After that little episode, we met up with Ed, Sarah and Laura's dad for dinner where I had one hell of a good hot dog on a bun. Once our bellies were full we pointed our pony toward the house and called it a night.

I'm leaving tomorrow, but I have to say, it's been a great three days with my surrogate family and I look forward to coming back here (and back to Luckenbach) in March. Oh, and I'm sure you'll be able to see some other pictures and get Laura's side of the store here.

How about that? Two posts in one week. I'm on a roll! You'd better watch your back, Christopher.

Busy Being Fabulous.

2008-02-25T15:31:00.003-05:00

So, I had resolved to start blogging more often just to spite my nemesis Chris. Then today I realized that it's been 20 days since my last post. Clearly I have no resolve. I really don't even have a good excuse for not posting. I have been busy, but not that busy. I have had plenty of things to post about. I'm just a slacker lately, I guess.

I was home for a little while between trips to Florida, but winter sucks, so I left a few days early this time around to get my time in the sun. I met up with my pal Andy in Panama City, Florida to do a little paddling. Andy used to be a military kinda guy, so we went to Tyndall Air Force Base and paddled from there (after eating delicious grouper sandwiches). We paddled to this island and then got out and walked around a bit. I've been to the beach numerous times in the past year, so you'd think the novelty would have worn off by now, but I'm still absolutely fascinated by the ocean every single time. This beach was exceptionally pretty.

There's this huge pile of crap that people keep adding more crap to and it has turned into this:

It reminds me of something you'd see at Burning Man. Which, by the way, I plan on going to one of these days.

The next day I cruised on down to Tampa to meet up with Kellen for a seafood festival. Kellen and I are both incredibly stupid sometimes, so we ended up stuck in traffic for several hours. Long story. At least we had some Girl Scout Cookies to keep us happy. And besides, Kellen's the kind of friend that I could be anywhere with and still be having fun.

We took some pictures at the festival and there are stories to go along with them, but Kellen is also a slacker and hasn't sent them to me yet. I do have this one though, of this truck we were behind in traffic for awhile:

It's really an entire package deal, with the stickers and all, but my favorite part is the light taped to the license plate. See it there, at the bottom, held on with duct tape? Classy.

Well, I've got more stories and more pictures, but I need to get some work done and get over to San Antonio so I can party with Sarah's family. But don't worry. I'm going to get back on track and blog more than Chris ever dreamed of blogging. I promise.

Older and Wiser.

2008-02-05T09:34:00.001-05:00

I'm home. I was only gone for three weeks, but it felt like three months this time around. Spending a month at home and then having to leave again probably didn't help. Either way, I was still pretty stoked to be sleeping in my own bed with my luxurious flannel sheets.

Anyway, I turned 25 last week, so my friend Leah reminded me that I haven't given her any advice in awhile. Leah is more responsible, way smarter, and much more mature than I am, but I just happen to be a month older than she is, so I feel obligated to give her advice on a regular basis.

My first bit of wisdom for you, Leah, is this: do not wager with me if you are not prepared to face the consequences. My sales rep in Atlanta learned this the hard way. He lost to me in a round of bowling, so he had to wear a tutu. He thought I would forget or that I wasn't serious about it. Who's not serious now, Shawn?

I have one more bit of wisdom I'd like to pass on to you, Leah. If you decide to erect a huge chain link fence across what is CLEARLY a 4-lane highway, put up some signs declaring such. If anyone from NASA in Huntsville, Alabama is reading, then you especially should take note. You almost killed me, you assholes.

My coworker Tori and I were trying to get from the bike shop to our hotel. We were doing fine until the navigation system said to turn right. We turned right, which put us on this 4-lane highway. Then we saw our hotel which did not appear to be accessible from this highway. I looked down at the navigation screen and it told me that we were "Off-Road." Great. So we really didn't have any choice but to keep going until we found the next exit at which point we could turn and go back the other direction. We drove for awhile and started getting pissed off because there were no exits and we were getting further and further from civilization. What was a normal looking highway started looking dark and desolate. Finally we saw one lonely little light up ahead. Great! An exit! So I was approaching what I foolishly thought was an exit at approximately 75 miles per hour. We were on a highway, after all. Then I realized that the lonely little light was illuminating not so much an exit, but a chain-link fence stretching across the highway. Consider the following: chain-link fences are not that visible, especially when it's dark out; it takes some distance to stop a vehicle traveling 75 mph; it takes considerably more distance to stop a vehicle towing a trailer weighing a couple thousand pounds. Fortunately, the distance between the point at which I realized there was a fence and the fence itself was greater than the distance it takes to bring a Volkswagen Touareg towing a 7,000lb trailer to a complete stop. It's not much greater, though, it's only about 2 feet.

So, luckily, I did not plow through the chain-link fence. Tori and I stepped out of the car for a moment to investigate just why the hell someone would put a fence across the highway. Then Tori noticed the NASA sign. So we took a picture:

Tori also noticed some signs that said "Military Installation. No Trespassing." So we decided we'd better get out of there. There was no place to turn around, so I had to back the trailer up for about a 1/4 mile until I found a place to get it turned around.

So back to my original advice ... put up some freakin' signs! Prior to almost crashing through the gate and breaking our country's space program, we didn't see a single sign warning us that maybe we shouldn't drive on that road, or that perhaps we should know that there's a huge fence blocking the highway ahead. Seriously, NASA, you're literally a bunch of rocket scientists. I would think you'd realize that you should alert motorists to the road hazard you've created.

So anyway, there's your "older and wiser" advice.

Failure.

2008-01-27T09:32:00.001-05:00

I started with a few drinks, some zip ties, a donated pair of Truck Nutz, and a burning desire to embarrass my friend Becky:

I waited till she went to bed and then set to work on Operation Blue Balls. Fortunately she parked her car outside that night instead of in the garage, so I had a lot more room to move around. Then I worried because at first, I couldn't find a good spot on her VW Passat to hang her balls from. I guess there aren't too many people hanging plastic testicles on that particular model of car. In the end, I had to use a lot of zip ties, but I got the job done:

I left Becky's house the next morning feeling pretty good about what I had done. However, my joy would not last. I received the following e-mail from her just a few hours into the day:

Ha! I told you once that I had beans so I didn’t need a set of blue balls, thanks for thinking of me.

Now I know why you wanted those damn zip ties so bad!

I’m guess you did it last night so your triumph was short lived. It was barely light out this morning when I made my way to McDonalds and when I couldn’t go thru the drive thru with the bikes on the car I had to go in. That was my saving grace….due to my piggy-ness I discovered your tasteless joke. I saw it immediately when I left the restaurant and fortunately, I had a pair of scissors with me for today’s event so I immediately cut the offending sphere from my car. No one saw me, you were foiled in your devious trickery.

Vengence will be mine!!!!

Vengeance is hers, failure is mine.

Winter? No thanks.

2008-01-15T14:04:00.000-05:00

I realize that winters in Arkansas are relatively temperate and that it doesn't get all that cold, but still, it gets cold. So when some dealers asked me to come down and do events in Florida in the middle of January, I gladly accepted. I was pretty stoked to be wearing shorts and flip flops my first two days here, but now we're going through a bit of a "cold snap" so it's only been in the low 60's the last couple of days. That's okay though. I'll take low 60's over low 40's any day.

All three of my events this week are in the Tampa area, so instead of shelling out for three nights in a hotel, I pitched my tent at Fort DeSoto County Park. I'm gonna go ahead and say that of all the places I've camped thus far, this one is my favorite. Really all it's missing is a good mountain bike trail. Yesterday I paddled around a bit and then rode my bike around a little.

My sweet bike kickin' it on a sweet beach.

The view from my campsite.

My campsite from the water.

This morning I decided I didn't really feel like riding since it was hella windy, but I remembered seeing some signs on the way into the park referring to some "historic fort." I thought it would probably be stupid, but I had some time to kill, so I figured I might as well go check it out anyway.

Turns out, it was really cool. There were all kinds of signs and stuff, but all you really need to know is that this was a sweet fort. It sits right on the point of the island and there's some huge ass guns. These guns could launch 1000 lb projectiles 5 miles out into the gulf. Pretty impressive for the early 1900's if you ask me.

Huge guns. I did resist the urge to straddle them, but that's really only because I was by myself.

The pier from the top of the fort.

Another view from the top of the fort.

The fort was definitely worth the half hour I spent walking around it. Apparently there's a canoe trail around the park somewhere, so I'm hoping to locate that tomorrow and do some more paddling. Oh, and the raccoons there are the most fearless raccoons I have ever encountered. Those little bastards were walking across my campsite with no disregard to my personal space.

Before I go, here's a funny photo from this weekend's event. I'm not exactly sure what Troy is trying to tell his dog, but I'm gonna be pissed if my tiger gets violated:

You should also check out my appearance in my pal Chris's blog. I'm flattered that she thought my e-mail response to her was blog-worthy. I was really tired and irritable when I wrote it. Speaking of Chris, doesn't she look a little bit like a Wookie in this picture?

Chris, if you had a really hairy face, you'd be a dead ringer for Chewbacca.

Well kids, I've spent far too much time not working today, so I'd better get back to it. Don't feel bad for me though. Work is actually quite pleasant when your office looks like this:

Short and Sweet.

2008-01-10T13:37:00.001-05:00

I don't have a lot of time, so you're getting another random list. Mostly I just want to be able to say that I blog more than Sarah does.

I had a fabulous week in Wisconsin to start off the New Year. Except the weather sucked.
I found my party dress and I'm pretty stoked about it.
I've slept in my own bed a lot lately and I'm seriously going to miss it. My flannel sheets are killer.
I have not ridden my bike in the last three weeks.
I schooled my cousins on some Guitar Hero action.
I am officially a college student again. I managed to get enrolled at NWACC so I can finish the ONE STUPID CLASS I need to complete my degree.
Pip is totally talking on the phone while he's pooping right now. GROSS.
Speaking of Pip, his dog brutally murdered someone's cat. I found the half-eaten rotting carcass in the front yard. It had a collar on and everything! Also GROSS.

Sorry for the crappy post. As usual, I am behind schedule on leaving for a trip. I had every intention of leaving my house at 6:00 this morning. Now it's 1:00pm and I still have to pack before I can leave.

More later.

Insert New Year's Cliche Here.

2008-01-01T01:32:00.000-05:00

I don't really have much to write about, but I figure that a new year deserves a new post. I hope you're not expecting to read about my New Year's resolutions because I didn't make any. I'm also not going to eat black-eyed peas today. Someone told me that eating black-eyed peas would be good luck, but I think that's a load of horse shit. I didn't eat ANY black-eyed peas at all in 2007, much less on New Year's Day, and I had a stellar year! I didn't kiss anyone at midnight and I didn't sing Auld Lang Syne while toasting with champagne. You could say I'm an unceremonious bitch.

I will mention a quick follow up to my last post, though. My little sister was deeply touched by the moving letter that I painstakingly crafted for her on her birthday. She was so touched, in fact, that for Christmas, she bought me some yarn and glitter glue so I could finally have the ornament-making experience that she so unwittingly robbed from me 19 years ago.

So anyway, I guess I should end this with something ... inspirational to ring in the new year. Instead of going out tonight, I stayed home. Long story short, I was a bit ill and I have to leave for Wisco early in the morning. So I was cleaning my room instead of drinking a lot and repeatedly exclaiming how awesome 2007 was. In a pile of business cards and old receipts I found a worn out folded up piece of paper with my handwriting on it. I wrote this quote on this scrap of paper about a year and a half ago. I was "between jobs" and was pretty anxious about where to go from there. I had a hell of a lot of time on my hands back then, being unemployed and all, so I read a lot. I remember reading this one paragraph. Then I read it again. And again. Then I thought about it all the time, but it was long, so I could never remember exactly what it said. So I copied that paragraph onto some scrap paper and I carried that paper around in my pocket for over six months. This is what it said:

You are so young; you stand before beginnings. I would like to beg of you to have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer some distant day. Perhaps you are indeed carrying within yourself the potential to visualize, to design, and to create for yourself an utterly satisfying, joyful, and pure lifestyle. Discipline yourself to attain it, but accept that which comes to you with deep trust, as long as it comes from your own will, from your own inner need, accept it and do not hate anything." - Rainer Maria Rilke

I stopped carrying it around when I moved back to Arkansas almost exactly a year ago. I guess I thought I didn't need it anymore. I thought I'd found my answers, but now I'm realizing that the questions have changed and that it's still pretty useful advice.

Great. Just great. Now I've managed to write something reflective on New Year's Day. I guess I'm not a completely unceremonious bitch.

A Birthday Letter to My Little Sister Johnna

2007-12-11T22:52:00.000-05:00

Dear Little Juana:

I don't think I've ever told you this, but you really pissed me off the day you were born. You came poking out of our mom on a Sunday morning. It was the Sunday morning that we were supposed to be making Christmas ornaments in Sunday school. So that morning, when Dad came rushing into our room in his tighty-whities, I thought he too was really stoked about going to church to make ornaments. Then he started saying some crap about having to go to the hospital and some water breaking. I didn't get it. Then Lynette told me I didn't have to put on my church clothes because "the baby is coming." Then I got it. Then I realized that there would be no Sunday School that morning. More importantly, I realized that there would be no ornament making. They had told us about the ornament making the week before and I had spent all week thinking about how killer my ornament was going to be. So yeah, I was pissed.

I admit, my anger toward the little sister I didn't even know yet was briefly subdued when the nurses treated Lynette and me like rock stars. They gave us cookies and pudding and soda and entertained us while we waited for you to do your thing (which took forever, by the way). I'll also admit that I forgot about the ornaments in the days following your premier appearance. You could even go as far as to say that I was excited about having you around ... until the following Sunday.

Since I had forgotten about the ornaments, I arrived at Sunday School expecting the usual: some coloring, some singing, some games, and hopefully some tasty snacks. Imagine my dismay when I walked in and saw all the really sweet ornaments my classmates had made. I felt even worse when my friends described to me how exactly they made these fabulous works of art. They had mixed up some glue stuff in some bowls. Then they added some glitter to the glue stuff. Each kid got to pick what color glitter he or she wanted! They could even mix colors! After that they blew up small balloons. They dipped this weird yarn into the glitter-laced glue stuff and then wrapped that around the small balloons. This yarn part was repeated several times. They let the sparkling glue-soaked yarn dry for awhile. All week, to be exact. That's right. They weren't even done with the ornaments when I got there that Sunday. That's how awesome these ornaments were going to be. They took a week to make! So I got to WATCH everyone else gleefully complete the final steps. They used pins to pop the little balloons. Then they pulled the deflated balloons out of the rigid yarn-webbed structures. Imagine this with me, Juana: cute little Ross with big brown eyes on the verge of overflowing with sorrowful tears watching the happy laughing kids pop balloons. Imagine how I felt when all the kids started saying "Look at mine!" with pride and wonder in their voices. Can you see why I was so mad at you? Clearly my disgust with you was justified.

I've decided that 19 years is long enough for time to heal my wounds. So, for your birthday, I'm giving you my forgiveness. I know, it's really noble of me, but this is your day, so let's focus on you. Even though you were too concerned with crying, pooping, and sucking Mom's boobs to realize how you robbed me of a little glittery part of my childhood that day, I forgive you. I know you wanted an iPod for your birthday, but you can always just ask Dad for one of those. I'm not saying Dad couldn't buy you my forgiveness, but it would be pretty expensive and I don't think Dad loves you that much. You don't have to worry about that though, because I forgive you. Happy Birthday!

Love,

Ross

PS. Just kidding! I did get you an iPod! I mailed it to Mom and Dad's house.

PPS. Oh, and just kidding about Dad. He probably loves you a lot.

PPSS. I love you, Juana, and I am very proud of you.

Don't Look Down.

2007-12-10T00:07:00.001-05:00

Last week I found myself yearning for a good long ride on some smooth flowy singletrack. I'd had several conversations with various people in the few weeks prior about the Womble, so I decided it was well-past time to hit up the central Arkansas epic. I can always rely on Little Newt to be up for a good time, so I gave him a ring and pretty soon we'd formulated a plan.

6:00 Saturday morning came not so bright, but early nonetheless. I woke up discouraged at how cold and wet it was outside. I started to doubt the weather channel's prediction for a warm dry day, but then I remembered that we were going three hours to the south, which can mean a huge difference as far as the weather goes. I drove the boring and uneventful two hours down to Russellville to pick up Newt, and then we headed down another hour to Mt. Ida. The whole drive down we worried about the foggy, wet, cold sky that didn't seem to want to cheer up. Finally, when we were within about ten minutes of the trailhead, the fog lifted and the temperature started to climb.

By the time we got out of the car, the temperature had made it all the way up to 64 degrees. In Arkansas. In December. Go figure. So we took off with high hopes, short sleeves, and lots of water. The first two miles sucked. It was mostly climbing. Fat kids hate climbing. Then we got to the river bluff section, which I didn't remember being so treacherous. There were a few sections of trail no more than a foot wide with a mountain on one side and an intimidating abrupt drop off on the other.

That's when I had to remind myself of some solid advice I hear often: don't look down. It really is good advice and has served me well in many a tough situation. I just wanted to give everyone a little reminder, whether you need it or not. So, whether you're riding along a tall bluff, standing on the edge of a major change in life, or reluctantly relieving yourself in a Port-a-Potty, just remember those three words: Don't. Look. Down.

We rode for awhile on some fast soul-warming singletrack before we finally decided that it was going to be a long ride back. So we stopped, ate some crackers, and rode back. After over four hours of pedaling, we made it back to the car. According to my dashboard, it was 70 degrees out. 70! Then, after not more than 15 minutes, the temperature dropped to 65 and continued dropping with each northbound mile. The fog came back and the rain started to fall here and there. We got back to Russellville and filled up on some stellar Mexican food before I had to head back home (and back to a wintry reality).

Now I'm back in Fayetteville where it's 32 degrees out and we're under a winter storm watch. Bummer.

Newt ... livin' on the edge.

I was unhappy after a weird crash that left me thinking, "I did not know my legs could move in that direction." My groin still hurts a little.

Where I'd rather be.

Good Times in the Rock.

2007-12-03T09:45:00.000-05:00

So my plan for not getting fatter has only been going "okay." I keep eating out too much and drinking too much beer. Stupid beer.

Speaking of beer, this past weekend was my last working weekend of the year! It was a fine way to end the season too. I left my house Friday morning in good spirits. Everything was great until about 50 miles down the road. Then I had a massive blowout on the trailer, so that kinda sucked. That's the 5th time this year I've had to change a tire on the trailer. LAME. Oh well.

So then I got back on the road and rolled into Russellville to see my little friend Newt, otherwise known as Nathan. He used to hate that I called him Newt, but I think now he's grown to love it. Newt was done with school for the day, so we made it out for a ride. I've been rather fascinated by the delay timer on my camera, so I insisted we use it:

Rather than hang around and party with some college kids, I decided to head on over to Little Rock. I checked into my hotel (Hampton Inn, of course) and then made plans to meet up with my old roommate Jason. I have a bad habit of forgetting what room number I'm in, so I usually tear the room number off the little envelope and put that in my pocket, just in case. I know this sounds like an awful trivial detail, but keep reading. So Jason and his girlfriend Amy and I went out for beers and food. Our waiter was a friendly guy, so we chatted with him quite a bit. Then the bill came. I put my credit card in the little book and off he went with it. No big deal. But then he brought it back. With a grin on his face. At first I thought, what a weirdo. Then I opened the little book and inside I found the bill, my credit card, and that little piece of paper with my room number on it. Mind you, this little piece of paper was CLEARLY from the Hampton Inn. Crap! Now this guy thinks I want to jump his bones! I left there dearly hoping this guy wouldn't show up at my door with lofty expectations.

He didn't.

Work the next day was pretty fun. I won't go into details, but this picture is pretty representative of the entire day:

It was unseasonably warm in Little Rock, so we all decided to take advantage of the nice day and go ride. I had no idea Little Rock was such a pretty place. I've gone all this time thinking it was just a big crap hole.

Then of course, we all went out for pizza and beer after the ride. Hilarious times were had by all. It rained yesterday, so we called it an early day, which was okay with me because then I got home way earlier than expected.

Now I'm home for awhile. Although I'm trying to plan another vacation just because I can. And because I'll go nuts if I stay home doing nothing for a month.

2007-11-27T09:22:00.000-05:00

The last week has been nothing short of fabulous. Danger got to join me at my second to last demo for the year. She got to hang out in the trailer and get petted a lot. Although I think she was a little pissed off when I put a t-shirt on her:

Then of course, there was Thanksgiving with the family. As usual, we drank a lot and made asses of ourselves. I found these football pads. They were a little small, but they did the trick. I was impervious to attacks:

The day after Thanksgiving, I drove up to Madison to hang out with my pals here. I always know it's going to be a good weekend when I check into the Hotel Fossen (Heath and Heidi's house). The weekend consisted of the following:

Hella good food, courtesy of Heidi
Plenty of booze
Approximately 7 hours of The Sopranos on DVD
A couple hours of climbing with Julie and Heath
Plenty of sleeping
Surprisingly pleasant Old Navy bargain hunting
Beer at the Dane with a fun crew
Riding bikes
Cramped quads and frozen toes
More booze
Delicious Tacos
Hot Chocolate with Peppermint Schnapps

I know. Another list. I'm too lazy right now to really write anything. I'll make up for it later this week. Here. I took some pictures. Pictures are substance!

17 miles, 40 degrees, 7 weirdos

Julie rockin' the singlespeed

I stole Heidi's sweet ass Surly to go to lunch with Julie. Check out my sweet Party Bars!

Alright. I gotta wrap this up. I need to get on the road and head home. One more demo this weekend and then I've got roughly a month of sitting around trying not to get too fat.

Sloth.

2007-11-21T15:15:00.000-05:00

That is probably the best word to describe me lately. Aside from doing one weekend of work, I've basically been sitting around the house trying not to do anything. I'm decompressing. I started to clean my room, but it proved to be a much too daunting task at this time. So I took a nap instead.

I don't really have anything else for you, but this should suffice till I get back from Thanksgiving festivities:

HOW SOMEONE WITH AN AMERICAN PUBLIC-SCHOOL EDUCATION WHO
DIDN'T REALLY PAY MUCH ATTENTION IN CLASS BUT LEARNED JUST
ENOUGH TO PASS EXAMS IMAGINES THE FIRST THANKSGIVING.

BY MATT PASSET

- - - -

PILGRIM: Happy First Thanksgiving. Thank you for having us to your tepee.

INDIAN: How!

(The INDIAN holds his hand in the air with his palm facing out.)

INDIAN: That means "Hello" in Indian.

PILGRIM: We came here on the Mayflower. It is that big ship over there. It has nothing to do with the Niña, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria. That is something else completely.

INDIAN: We are having a powwow; it is like a meeting.

(PILGRIM takes a bite of food.)

PILGRIM: This is good. What is it?

INDIAN: That is corn. It is also called maize.

PILGRIM: Yes, like a labyrinth.

INDIAN: (Mumbles something inaudible about David Bowie.)

PILGRIM: Thank you for introducing corn to me. This turkey is good, too.

INDIAN: We hunted it. We are hunters and gatherers.

PILGRIM: Excuse me one second; the buckle to my shoe has come undone.

(PILGRIM bends down and buckles his shoe.)

PILGRIM: This is a nice neighborhood.

INDIAN: It is called Plymouth Rock. It does not refer to one single rock. We are not eating dinner on some large rock sitting by the water, even though people might one day think that. We just moved here. We used to own Manhattan, but sold it for $24. They paid us in buttons and arrowheads.

PILGRIM: (Sarcastically.) Wow, $24! That, uh ... sounds like a good deal.

INDIAN: We have casinos and sell cheap cigarettes.

(INDIAN lights a peace pipe, adjusts his feather headdress.)

PILGRIM: I have a buckle on my hat, I think for no reason.

Rockstar.

2007-11-13T01:41:00.000-05:00

So, after 7 weeks on the road, I'm finally home again. I came home last night to find that my roommates purchased Guitar Hero for the Wii. Awesome. This is what today's to-do list looked like at the end of the day:

Box and ship 17'' 7.5 FX bike
Call Travis back.
Finish event feedback reports.
Clean out the car.
Do laundry.
~~Beat Guitar Hero.~~
Call Gator Cycle about Jan event.
Get other January dates set.

Don't let this fool you, though. I only beat Guitar Hero on the "easy" level. I still have a lot of work to do.

Still goin' ...

2007-11-04T16:31:00.000-05:00

It's been a pretty good week. I didn't do much for Halloween, just ate some pizza and drank some beer. I camped in Greenville, SC on Thursday night. I hadn't camped in awhile, so I was happy about it. Although the ranger said they had free firewood, but in this case, "free firewood" meant "really huge logs that no human could ever carry." So then I just resorted to plan B. I walked around the camp ground going "Hey, can I have one of those pieces of firewood?" It took me about 30 minutes, but then I got more than enough wood to make a fire. I have to say, I am the best marshmallow roaster I know. I have perfected this tasty art form and it is delicious.

Friday was frustrating. I needed to get some work done before getting back on the road, so I found a Starbucks. I spent about 20 minutes trying to get online with no luck. So I asked the guy behind the counter what the deal was. He said, "we don't have internet." WHAT? Are you kidding me? Who has ever heard of a Starbucks with no internet? UGH. So I used my sweet phone to find another Starbucks. I went there. I tried to get online. It wasn't working. I asked the guy behind the counter and braced myself for the irritating answer. And it came. He said "we don't have internet." WHAT THE HELL? Isn't there some rule that Starbucks Coffee places are supposed to have internet? Does this just happen in Greenville, or are there other internet-less Starbucks locations out there?

I just got back from a ride and realized that I've had three really great mountain bike rides in the last week. The weather's been perfect, my bike's been working great, and the trails have been fun and fast. Can't ask for much more than that.

Although the trails in Arkansas will always hold a special place in my heart, I have to say, North Carolina has some really nice trails. I also figured out that there's a plant here that smells like gin. Thank God ... at first I thought that smell was coming from me.

Now I'm on what might be the most comfortable couch I've ever been on. I'm writing this, watching Austin Powers, drinking wine, and watching Travis swirl his wine around in his glass. He doesn't know this, but I'm secretly hoping he screws up and gets wine all over himself. Oh, and Travis's fiancee Cristin is in the kitchen making lasagna that I get to eat pretty soon.

You could say I'm pretty happy right now.

That's all for now, kids. Good news for those of you back home ... one week from today I will be turning my pony toward the house. Start planning for the GLORIOUS REUNION now. Or at least just get off the couch so I can lie there all day long.

All the leaves are brown ...

2007-10-30T22:55:00.000-05:00

Well, I guess I can't complain too much. At least the sky isn't gray. The harsh reality of Fall has hit me kinda hard in the last few days. I spent most of October in various parts of Florida, so I sort of forgot that Autumn is setting in. I was walking around in board shorts and flip flops, going to the beach, putting on sunscreen, and basically living in my own happy little world until I had to come to stupid North Carolina. Now it's cold and I'm not happy about it. Mostly because I really didn't pack enough cool weather clothing. Back in ... September when I was getting ready for this little jaunt, I thought I was really planning ahead by packing one pair of pants (actual full-length pants, not capris or shorts), one pair of real shoes, two pairs of socks, and one long-sleeved shirt. Now I feel stupid for not packing more stuff. Oh well. That gave me an excuse to go shopping.

And while I'm complaining, not only did we have an event ruined by the pouring rain, but I also managed to get a flat on my trailer on the way there. And of course, the guys were more than willing to stand around taking pictures:

Anywho ... I've been working way too much in the last week or so, so I haven't had time to post much. What I really wanted to tell you about before I started whining about Fall was the sweet paddling I did in Tallahassee. I was traveling through Tallahizzy last week and had a day off, so I met up with this guy there to go paddling. While we were driving to the river, he mentioned that we might see some cool wildlife. I'm sure I don't have to mention my fascination with alligators and manatees, as I have written about this before, but I tried not to get my hopes up about seeing them. So we got to the river and Andy unloaded our boats. At this point, I learned that it's a really good idea to go paddling with someone who is both tall and strong because then they can load and unload the boats while I just kick rocks and stuff. Then we started paddling upriver. The water was pretty cold and really clear. Apparently the river is fed by natural springs or something. We saw these fish jumping about a foot out of the water. Mullets. Seriously. You learn something new every day. That day, I learned that "mullet" is not just a term describing Billy Ray Cyrus's hair. So I was having a pretty good time and was happy enough to be out on the water. BUT THEN .... we heard this sound that sounded like a whale doing that thing with it's blowhole (that sounds a little dirty, doesn't it?). Turns out it was these:

Yeah ... that's right ... MANATEES! At first we just saw two of them, and one of them was just a little (relatively speaking) guy. That second picture is the little guy under water. I took that with my sweet camera that I still haven't managed to break yet. If you look closely in the last picture, you can see them next to my boat. Then as we kept paddling we kept seeing more MANATEES! By the end of the day we'd seen: 8 MANATEES!, 1 otter, 2 turtles, 2 owls, and a whole bunch of mullets (the fish, not the redneck haircut). Then we (and by "we," I mean, "Andy") loaded up the boats. We went into the nearest little town and had fish sandwiches and beer. Needless to say, it was a pretty good day for me.

Other than that, there's only been the usual amount of excitement. By mere coincidence, I did get to meet up with my fun friends Mimi and Jeff for a day at the beach, which was made better by a delicious bottle of wine sent from a friend:

We didn't have any glasses, and there was no way to keep it chilled, so we had no choice but to drink it from the bottle while sitting on the beach. Keepin' it classy. Then we ended up at Downtown Disney and I wanted to die until we found the Margarita Shack, at which point I started to become increasingly happy with each delicious drink. Then of course, Jeff and Mimi had my back and they let me have some floor space in their hotel room so I didn't have to pony up the cash for one myself. Beats the hell out of sleeping in the car!

Ahh ... sunny, warm Florida ...

While North Carolina is cold this time of year, it's really not such a bad place. I did manage to get one really good mountain bike ride in on Sunday, and I have a day off tomorrow, so I should be able to get another one in. I just have to make sure I get my flat tire from last week fixed because well ... I have another flat on the trailer. Bummer. Oh well. at least I'm not working on Halloween, which means I'll be drinking and making fun of people instead. Not bummer.

Does this look infected?

2007-10-23T03:03:00.000-04:00

My leg doesn't look so good. But it's been pretty itchy, so that means it's healing, right?

Okayalright.

2007-10-18T16:32:00.001-04:00

First of all, you'll be happy (or maybe disappointed) to know that I did not have a nervous breakdown yesterday because of UPS.com. With stern words and a furrowed brow, I managed to finally get my urgent shipping label made.

I'm still in Florida, so that makes me pretty happy. I spent all of last week in south Florida, but I only had two events, so I got caught up on some important things: sleep, paperwork, drinking, and paddling. I even had good company on my last two outings, which is a welcome change from traveling alone. Some nice boys from one of the shops went with me one day:

I'm fascinated by manatees:

Then I had to do some drinking with Becky, with whom I worked and stayed all week. I kept a close eye on her alcohol to make sure she didn't try to pour it in my gnarly wound (which I think might be a little infected now). Then I got to paddle again! We went down to Miami since we knew we could rent a kayak for Becky there pretty easily. We paddled down the river (we did go under that creepy bridge this time) and out across the bay to this little island. There were huge ass spiders all over the place, so we didn't stay long:

The perils of drinking like a fish:

We got kinda tired of running into big creepy spiders, so we turned around and found a couple boats anchored on the beach. Becky made friends with some people and managed to acquire us some delicious beers. We also played with their cute dog who really liked chasing coconuts:

Then we realized it was going to be a long paddle back against the wind, so we said bye to our temporary beer-giving friends and headed away from BeerCanSpider Island.

There's plenty more I'd love to tell you about, but it's going to have to wait. I've got some work to do.

Public Service Announcement:

2007-10-17T12:21:00.000-04:00

I'm interrupting your regular programming to let you know that I am about to go completely ape shit on UPS.com.

Thus, no real blog post at this time. Maybe tomorrow.

time flies ...

2007-10-08T23:50:00.001-04:00

As usual, I really don't know where to start. The last time you heard from me, I was at home getting ready to go work my ass off at Interbike. I did, in fact, work hella hard there. I did get a couple chances to ride mountain bikes in the desert, which turned out to be really cool. It was weird at first, since there were no trees and I've always equated mountain biking with trees, but then it was pretty sweet. Now I can sort of understand why people like the west so much. Our last ride there was one that we kinda squeezed in right before dark. We're slow, so the last quarter or so of our ride was by moonlight, which was alright, since there were no trees. There are plenty of stories that go along with a week in Vegas, but I'm going to leave those out for now. I also really should have taken more pictures, but the only one I took was this one on that last ride:

I flew home from Vegas and was warmly greeted at the airport by all three of my roommates. Pip even worked really hard to make me this sign:

It's a little hard to read in the picture, but it says: Rossina. I hope UR pretty as your picture in the catalog. Thanks mailorderbrides.com! Dumbass couldn't even spell my name right. Oh well. It was well worth the effort. Thanks Pip!

After Vegas, I was home for two days and then I took off for Orlando. I did some events and then had some time to go for a ride. The trails around here aren't anything like the trails back in Arkansas. For starters, this state is flatter than .... crap, I don't know .... something that's really flat. They make up for it with a shit ton of unnecessary turns and stuff. It was alright though, it's just hard to get a good workout in on stuff like that. In any case, I did see this huge ass turtle just kickin' it next to the trail. I think he was mad, cause he hissed at me a lot:

Sorry you had a bad day, little dude.

I always like to get at least one picture of every trail, so here's the one:

After I finished things up in central Florida, I had a couple of days off, so laid around at my friend Kellen's house for a little while before heading down toward Miami to get a ride in on one of about three trails in south Florida. On the way from the car to the trail, I ran into what is probably the ugliest creature I have ever seen in person:

Bleh. It looked all pissed off. Then again, I guess I would be pretty pissed off too if I looked like that.

So I found the trail. It was nice to be out on my bike, but I have to say, there's a reason mountain biking isn't that popular around here. It sucks. So I rode for about 45 minutes, and was a little irritated the whole time about how crappy the riding here is. Then I quit paying much attention and started to let my mind wander. This was a bad thing. I came around a corner and hit a root and did this weird sideways endo thing. It's hard to explain, but all you really need to know is that I ended up on my ass with my bike on top of me. After that I was like, "fuck this," and I headed back to the car. After careful examination, I realized that I had hurt the following: my pride, my hip, and my calf:

Yeah. There's a pretty good chunk of my skin missing there. Ow. Actually, it didn't really hurt that bad until my "friend" Becky poured rubbing alcohol all over it and then started prodding it like a stupid science experiment. But maybe now it won't leave a nasty scar.

After giving up on biking for the day, I decided it was about time to bust out the kayak. I took a little cruise up and down parts of the Oleta River. One thing I figured out is that if you're scared of alligators, then everything pretty much looks like an alligator.

This little bridge thingy was kinda cool, but I didn't go under it. I thought, "If I were an alligator, I'd totally hang out under there ... all Billy Goats Gruff style." So I just took a picture instead. The rest of the river was ... pretty river-like:

As I was heading back toward the take-out point, I saw these little dudes up on shore:

See the funny guy on the left? I like to think he was smiling at me. I followed them along the bank for a little while and was able to get another good picture of them:

I got so close to them that I could have reached out with my paddle and smacked one of them upside the face, but I didn't. It didn't take me that long to get bored with them. All they did was eat stuff and then put their paws in the water.

I took my boat out, put it back in my trailer, and avoided the piercing stares of some Cubans nearby. Then I realized ... "crap, I need a shower." I noticed a bike wash nearby. The wheels started turnin' and pretty soon it was a Ross wash. So for the second time this week, I showered outside with a hose. It's actually surprisingly pleasant and it really saves a lot of time. Although it's probably not gonna work out so well for me once the weather starts to get a little colder.

Alright. I'm kinda tired and I have a lot of crap to do tomorrow. I'm out.

Home, Sweet Home.

2007-09-18T00:12:00.000-04:00

Holy Crap. It's already September 17th? Where the hell have I been?

Oh that's right ... home.

It's been nice. I've been busier than I thought I would be, but still it's still been pretty damn good. I've slept in almost every day. I've ridden my bike quite a few times. I've spent a lot of time on my couch. I had to spend my first two weekends home in Oklahoma because my best friend from high school got married, which was alright since I got to see my mom:

I did have to go to a karaoke bar, which I normally wouldn't do, but Reina really wanted to have her bachelorette party there. I didn't sing. I just sat there smiling smugly at how I was clearly a superior human compared to most of the people there. I also had to wear the following: a dress, lots of makeup, heels, and fake nails. It sucked. I mean, I was flattered that Reina asked me to be in her wedding, so that was great, but come on ... you all know me ...

It was actually a pretty cool wedding. It was really low-key and there wasn't that much fuss, but having those fake nails annoyed the living shit out of me.

I also spent two days at the Tour of Missouri. That was well worth my time. Brett and I got to watch George Hincapie take the sprint to win stage 2 in Springfield. It was neat to see such high-caliber riders racing right there in Missouri. That's gotta be a step in the right direction for American cycling.

This past weekend I had the bright idea to go race my mountain bike at Devil's Den. I didn't ride much all summer. Instead I was generally either driving or drinking beer. So I'm still not sure why I thought I'd have a chance at a race, but I went anyway. We did two laps and there were only two other girls in my class. One girl left us in the dust midway through the first lap. I managed to stick with the remaining girl until about halfway through the second lap. Then we got to a bitch of a hill climb and I was like, "this sucks." Needless to say, I let up and she took off up the hill. So, I finished 3rd. Which sounds great until you add "out of 3." Brett managed to finish 2nd out of 10, which is really awesome, so we stuck around for the awards even though I didn't care ... until I got my award which was $40 in a pint glass! My entry fee was $35, so even though I sucked, I still made $5! Bonus!

Last night a bunch of us went to a Bela Fleck show. Normally I'm not a big fan of the banjo, but this guy makes the banjo kick ass. The rest of his band can jam too. I wouldn't say it was the best show I've been to, but I felt like it was worth the price of admission.

Other than that, my time at home has been pretty uneventful. I've been sleeping, reading, and working here and there. I've had to box up a whole bunch of bikes, make some long phone calls, and write an ass-load of e-mails. Speaking of e-mails ... I forgot what is probably the most exciting news of the last three weeks. After one particularly frustrating day with my computer, I finally decided to pull the trigger and order a MacBook. I am SO over this Windows bullshit.

That's really all I've got for you right now. I need to get back to the shit load of stuff I have to get done before I leave for Interbike on Saturday.

I'm out.

I get by ...

2007-09-01T00:17:00.000-04:00

With a little help from my friends.

So I've been home for almost a week now, and I have to say, it's REALLY nice to not have to be on my feet all day. Hotter'n Hell was really fun, but exhausting. I ran into a bunch of Arkansas peeps who used to be customers at the bike shop, so that was pretty neat. I also got to hang out with my pals Mimi and Jeff, who are always really great about feeding me, housing me, and giving me delicious beers whenever I'm in Texas. Or New Orleans.

Speaking of good friends, I completely forgot to mention the Fossens (Heath and Heidi) in my last post. These are some first-rate people who always take good care of me when I'm in Madison. After 10 days, staying in a hotel and eating the same food every day was really getting old. So when Heidi sent me a text message saying she was cooking, I bolted right over there. As soon as I walked in the door, Heidi poured me a glass of wine. I did some laundry, chilled on the couch, and then ate some hella good lasagna. Then I drank more wine and sat around some more. And I didn't talk about bicycles one bit. It was fabulous ... until I had to make an appearance at work. But it was a much-needed break and I did manage to make it back over there several more times. It's always a nice time checking into the Hotel Fossen.

I also got to hang out with Maggie, who is the funniest female I know. She's probably the third funniest person I know in general. We're going to have a talk show together someday and it's going to be fucking hilarious. So imagine how delighted I was to discover one morning that Maggie was going to be working the demo with us. I have to say, it really made the day much more enjoyable. As you can see from the photo, we were made to be friends with each other:

So, I got to see the Fossens and I got to see Maggie, but what was really awesome was kickin' it with all of them AT THE SAME TIME! On what I think might have been my only night off, we all went to eat tacos and drink beers. It was a magnificent time and as I sit here and tell you about it, I start to miss Madison. I mean, really, look how happy we were:

I didn't get to see Andrea, except for about five minutes. We just couldn't make our schedules work out. She's all busy getting ready for an Ironman and stuff, but maybe next time I come to Madison, she'll be all busy having fun instead of training.

So anyway, I'm home for a much-needed break now. I'm not actually off work, I'm just doing work from home. Although I plan to have a couple completely work-free days next week. I'll be doing a lot of this: And also a lot of this:
Yes, that's my (sort of) new sweet ass kayak. I'm planning on spending quite a few early mornings out on the lake catching the shit out of some bass. Fish fear me. And those chicks ... they are fantastic people who put up with my shit on a regular basis. Especially Helen and Teena. Teena is the one I always go to when I want to whine about something. And Helen ... well, I live with Helen ... that alone says enough.

Since this post seems to be mostly about friends, it would be wrong of me not to mention DANGER! She is the best dog EVER. She's been living with my parents since I'm never home, and I miss her all the time. So, I took a little detour through Oklahoma City on my way home from Texas to pick her up. Pictures really do no justice, so I've posted these videos for your veiwing pleasure:

That's Danger and Brett. Brett wins the prize for the funniest person I know.

Danger is still recovering from ACL surgery, so I wouldn't let her go on a walk with Helen and Gracie. She was pretty upset about it:

Alright. I'm gonna go pet Danger some more and then go to bed. I'm out.

Work. Work. Work. Bleh.

2007-08-22T23:53:00.000-04:00

Alright, the last two weeks have been hella busy. In fact, if you weren’t in Madison, Wisconsin during that time, then you most likely did not hear from me. There’s a reason for that, and it’s not just because I don’t like you. I just got home two hours ago and am trying to make the most of my 12 hours here until I have to leave again for Hotter’n Hell down in Texas. I’m seriously dreading getting up at 5:30 to start driving, only to arrive there and start working in the oppressive heat at one of the nation’s biggest cycling events. In fact, the only thing keeping me going right now is the fact that I’m home for approximately three weeks after this.

As usual, I’m too lazy/tired/stupid (pick one) to write actual paragraphs about what’s happened since my last post, so I’ll try to hit the high points in … list form! I swear, next time there will be no list, only a series of coherent, well-planned paragraphs. I still figure I’m doing better than Sarah who only copies and pastes quizzes on her blog in a blatant act of comment-whoring. However, that’s another matter entirely. On with the list:

- I’ve been consuming way too much alcohol lately. It’s not my fault. The beer was free and it’s rude to turn down free beer.

- I have not slept much in the last two weeks. But I did manage to sleep about 10 hours last night, so I feel pretty good about that. And you can bet your sweet ass that I’m gonna be averaging about 13 hours a night as soon as I get back from Texas next week.

- I spent about two days agonizing over a career decision that, in retrospect, was actually a pretty clear choice.

- I remembered how much I like Madison.

- I met some really neat new friends.

- I had a glorious reunion with some not so new friends.

- I did no fishing or kayaking or fishing from my kayak whatsoever in the last two weeks, and I can’t wait till next week when I can get back to it.

- I wore my favorite pants (my IR board shorts) five times. For those of you who are wondering (and I know you are), I did wash them twice. I think it’s time to order more pairs though.

Okay. That’s enough. I’m incredibly tired and I have to get up ridiculously early. Here are a couple photos to tide you over till next week:

Me doing what I do best ... leaning. Oh, and rockin' my favoritest pants.

A thousand freakin' bikes. Long story.

It was pissing rain and Julie was thirsty, so it all worked out.

John was kind enough to point out Brett's weiner to everyone. Brett didn't seem to mind.

Essentials for the Road.

2007-08-02T01:44:00.000-04:00

Those of you who have been loyal readers of Stop Fooling Around have probably already noticed that I tend to make a lot of lists. Actually, anyone who knows me very well at all would know that I am obsessed with putting most information into list form. I don't know why. I just do.

So anyway, I'm leaving for another trip in about 36 hours, so I was thinking about what all I need to do before I go. That got me to thinking about all the things that make life on the road so much easier/enjoyable/better for me. You can see where this is leading, can't you? A list!

So, here you go. These are things I never leave home without. There's also a few things that I tend to look for while I'm out and about.

My Samsung Blackjack: Like a BlackBerry, but way cooler. It uses a Windows Mobile operating system, which is handy because it automatically syncs with my Outlook e-mail, calendar, and contacts. I don't even have to plug it into my computer. The Blackjack just communicates with the corporate server on its own. It also features a full internet browser, so I can pull up the weather, MapQuest, or the Starbucks location nearest to me at the time. Speaking of Starbucks ...

Starbucks: It's not the coffee I care so much about, it's the consistency. I can find a Starbucks in most of the places I go, and I always know what to expect there: decent coffee, comfy chairs, wireless internet, and clean spacious restrooms. Every Starbucks is the same, so I'm never having to guess at what I'm getting.

Hampton Inn: In keeping with the consistency theme, I have to mention Hampton Inn. I try not to stay in hotels too often, since it's expensive, but when I do splurge, I like to do so at the Hampton Inn. They are noticeably more expensive than a lot of hotel options, but the beds alone are worth it. Every Hampton Inn features the Cloud Nine Experience. That's right. Experience. Go ahead. Click the link. They are not exaggerating. The beds are that good. I try to make sure I'm going to have plenty of time to spend lounging in the bed when I stay at a Hampton Inn. I also try to make sure I'm not going to have to get up early, as the amazing beds make it nearly impossible for one to get out of them before say, 11am. As if the beds weren't enough, I've never ever had less than the absolute best service at a Hampton Inn.

My MSR Hubba Tent: I do try to keep the hotel stays at a minimum. So I often stay with my dealers or sales reps or friends. I also camp quite a bit. $10 bucks for a site at a state park sure beats $110 at a hotel. So, my tent comes in handy quite often. I can set it up in under five minutes. It keeps me dry in the rain. It keeps bugs off me. It's light and compact and doesn't take up much room when I'm not using it. The only catch is that I wish I'd have gotten the 2-person version instead of the 1-person version. The extra space and versatility would be nice.

My Thermarest: Great for sleeping in the tent, the back of the car, or in the floor of someone else's hotel room.

My Immersion Research Board Shorts: They are just the right length, not too long, not too short. They fit me really well. They dry quickly. They have a side pocket that holds just enough stuff. They are extremely durable.

My OR Mithril Stormshell: Quite possibly the most awesome soft shell jacket ever made. It's warm enough for chilly winter days, but not too warm for sudden summer typhoons. It's breathable, but doesn't leak, thanks to the taped seams. The sweet hood tightens at the back of the head instead of at the chin, allowing for a nice snug fit without blocking my peripheral vision.

Downey Wrinkle Releaser: This one should be pretty obvious.

A Camera: As of last week, my Olympus dumbass-proof camera (see the post from last week). You never know what you're going to run into that might require documenting on film.

Patience, A Sense of Humor, and the Ability to Adapt: Enough said.

That's my list so far. There's a good chance that I'm leaving some important things out. Of course, there are numerous other things that I need on the road, such as credit cards, toiletries, sunglasses, shoes ... the list goes on and on. But those things are obvious. The point here was to highlight the stuff that is specific to myself and not so obvious.

That's all I've got for today. I've been at home this week, so the last couple of days have been relatively uneventful. Although I guess I should mention that my cell phone (yes, the awesome Blackjack mentioned above) is, for the most part, broken. To make a long story short, it's following the same road as my recently departed camera (not the sweet ass Olympus). I tear things up. This problem I have is best summed up by a quote from Helen:

Me (telling Helen about my sweet new camera): Yeah, so it's waterproof, freeze proof, crush proof, and can withstand being dropped from 5 feet off the ground. It's virtually indestructible, for a digital camera, anyway.

Helen: You'll manage to break it.

Ahh, Helen. Such a downer. But honest.

48 Hours in Charlotte.

2007-07-30T15:02:00.000-04:00

I mentioned last time that I had big plans for my Friday morning in Charlotte, North Carolina. I fully realize that I'm highlighting my inner nerd by telling you that I had been looking forward to seeing the Body Worlds exhibit at the science museum for quite some time. I read about Body Worlds in The Best American Nonrequired Reading of 2006. One of the essays in there was about the Plastination process that makes Body Worlds possible. I was so intrigued that I looked it up on the information super highway. Imagine my excitement when I discovered that the exhibition would be in Charlotte at the same time that I would be there! So, months before my arrival in Charlotte, I had carved out some time just to go see these bodies. For those of you who are too lazy to click the link I so thoughtfully provided, Body Worlds is the exhibition of real human cadavers that have been preserved by a process called Plastination. They wouldn't let anyone take pictures, but I did manage to find some out there on the net:

The whole thing was a lot creepier than I thought it would be. I thought I'd just walk around in there and be like, "Human bodies and stuff ... cool." Instead I spent hours staring at them and pondering my own mortality. I also did not eat lunch that day.

So that's what I did Friday during the day. Friday afternoon I headed over to get set up for the 2nd annual 24 Hours of Booty. The idea is basically to ride this 3 mile loop over and over and over again for 24 hours. They raise money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation while doing this. It's actually a pretty cool event. I was doing tech support and bike demos.

The event started out nicely enough. A little warm, pretty damn humid, but not much to complain about:

But then ... not more than an hour into it, a hell of a thunderstorm came our way. So, what started out like this:

Turned into this:

It was pretty crazy for a few hours. I spent a lot of time pushing pooled water off the top of my tent and awning. Pretty much everything got soaked since the rain was coming in sideways. The 3 mile course was closed for about an hour for safety reasons, so riders were piled in under tents everywhere. Finally the storm let up and went away all togehter. Travis, the guy I was working with took the first sleeping shift from 12:30am till 3:30am. I got to sleep from 3:30am till 7:30am. Then I worked the rest of the day and was surprisingly chipper most of the time. We finished up Saturday around 7 (24 hours later, of course) and I managed to get about 4 hours into my drive home before I had to stop and sleep. I drove all day yesterday and finally made it home.

My roommate is bugging the shit out of me to go ride, so, while I'd love to elaborate more, I've gotta go. More later though.

Is this thing still on?

2007-07-26T21:15:00.000-04:00

Is anybody still reading?

I know. It's been a ridiculously long time since I last posted, but believe me, it's not for a lack of things to write about. In fact, having so much to write about is part of what's been keeping me from blogging. Everytime I sit down to start to try to catch up, I wonder, "where do I begin?" Then I get overwhelmed with how much is going on. Then I have to wander over to Daily Puppy to calm myself down. Then I get distracted and don't ever get around to actually doing any updating.

So, in case you were wondering, my last couple of months can best be summed up like this:

Yeah. That's a lot of driving. 22,000 miles since March 23rd, to be exact. I have slept in my own bed 39 nights out of the last 148 (since March 1st).

Am I complaining? Not hardly. My job is awesome. I'm getting paid to go on roadtrips. Occasionally I do have to do some work, but it mostly consists of standing around talking about bikes.

My camera died yesterday. Well, it's not completely useless. It still takes videos pretty well. It just doesn't really take still pictures anymore. They come out blurry at best, but most of the time, you can't even tell what was in the picture. Honestly, I'm a little surprised that it even lasted this long. Many of you will agree when I say that I just can't have nice things. I put that camera through some tough times: beaches, rainstorms, beaches during rainstorms, sweaty bike rides, every mile I've traveled on the road this year, rambunctious parties, and other adventures. Oh, and I've dropped it more times than I can count. So, as a final farewell to the little camera who just couldn't take any more abuse, I'm posting some of my favorite pictures taken on it.

My pal Kellen and me in Orlando.

My bike on some railroad tracks in Tallahassee, Florida.

Kellen and me again. We were watching a storm coming in over the beach and I got the bottom of my pants went. Some of you who are fellow Ace Ventura fans (Sarah) might recognize that I'm reenacting the scene where Ace gets hit with spears in both legs.

Vacationing in Reno/Tahoe. I thought the cruise ship looked lame, so I let everyone know how I feel.

Letting my little sister Johnna know who's boss in front of the Reno sign.

By the end of the trip in Reno/Tahoe, I was flipping off most things just for the hell of it.

Of course, there's a gazillion more pictures that I took on that camera, but these just happened to be some that were handy and/or amusing to me.

I was just outside of Asheville, North Carolina yesterday when I passed a Best Buy. I went in just to look at cameras and at least start getting some ideas for replacing my broken one. I wasn't really planning on buying one yet. Then I saw this display for the Olympus Stylus 770SW:

You're probably looking at the features highlighted on the right and going, "Wow! Really?!" I was anyway. It was significantly more expensive than the other 7.1 Megapixel cameras, but I decided it would probably be worth the extra money now if I don't have to replace it in less than a year. So far, everyone I've told about it is wondering whether or not this thing is really as tough as they claim it is. Give me a few months with it and I'll let you know.

Of course, this post would be incomplete without the first picture I took with the new camera:

I try to camp whenever possible on the road because it's a hell of a lot cheaper than hotel rooms. Plus, it adds a little variety sometimes. Last night I got my campsite, set up my tent, and built my fire. Then the sky starting pissing rain, which kinda irritated me because I had just worked so hard making a fire and had really been looking forward to an evening of wine and roasted marshmallows next to the fire. Instead I just sat in my tent reading and occasionally glaring at the rain as my fire fizzled down to nothing.

Funny story about the wine glass though. I found this little wine shop in town owned by this really nice little old man. He chuckled when I asked him what would go well with roasted marshmallows. Not only did he have a few suggestions, but he also insisted that we open a couple bottles and try them out. After tasting three of them, we ended up just drinking the rest of one bottle. Then, as I was buying one of the other bottles, he asked me, "What are you gonna drink this out of?" I replied with, "The bottle." I fully expected him to be appalled at that, but instead, he laughed. I took this response to be a sign of good character. Then he gave me a wine glass to take along so I could "enjoy the wine properly." So now I have a wine glass. Although, judging by my past track record with nice things, this one probably won't last long.

It rained all night, but at least I managed to stay dry while I slept. Tonight I'm at the Hilton Garden Inn in downtown Charlotte, North Carolina. After two nights of camping, I was ready for a nice soft bed, continental breakfast, and all of the other luxuries that come with a hotel room. I'm pretty excited about tomorrow. I've got some neat plans for the morning. I'll tell you about it later. For now I'm off to take advantage of the free cocktail hour and then the hot tub.

Letter to the Editor

2007-04-17T16:42:00.000-04:00

This was in the local paper yesterday. I have no further comment except that I hope this lady has not produced offspring.

Just checkin' in ...

2007-04-12T23:36:00.000-04:00

I can't belive it's been over two weeks since my last post. Seriously ... where the hell have I been? Oh yeah, that's right ... Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and now, Nebraska.

Quick recap of the last two weeks: I drove. A lot. I slept in the car a couple times because it was cheaper. I met up with some long lost friends for a few hours. I drank a lot of beer. I talked to a lot of women about all things cycling-related. I watched a really cool lightning storm as I drove to Austin in the middle of the night. I decided that Houston, Texas sucks. I saw my family. I shot some sweet guns. I had a couple days off. I bought my first pair of climbing shoes AND used them. I saw Blades of Glory and thought it was HILARIOUS. I saw my dog!

And I took some pictures.

My new shoes for climbing stuff!

The family dog in one of the houses I stayed in. Almost as cute as Danger.

Peanut.

I'll pop a cap in yo' ass.

Okay, I seriously need your help with this. I was sitting at a stoplight when I looked out my window at the sign for Grapevine Mills Outlets. Nice little Texas cowboy scene. Except, what the hell is going on with this guy?

I mean, seriously. Is he sitting on something? Is he molesting a cow? Is he sitting on something AND molesting a cow? I am bothered by this and won't be happy till I figure out what is going on here. So, I'm asking all of you ... any of you ... someone ... please tell me what that cowboy is doing! For your further reference, here is a picture including the rest of the sign ... you know, for context clues:

I'm anxiously awaiting your input. Please, put my mind at ease.

Worth a thousand words ...

2007-03-28T23:46:00.000-04:00

I've discovered that my super awesome phone (well, aside from the fact that it doesn't understand Daylight Savings Time) takes pretty decent pictures, so now I find myself constantly taking pictures with it. I had quite a few pictures piling up on there, so I went through and forwarded the good ones and deleted the stupid ones. Here are the fruits of my labor, in no particular order:

This is Rudy, who lives with Heath and Heidi, whose house I stayed in for part of my time in Madison.

I saw this in the vitamin section at Wal-Mart the other day.

Check out the sweet accessory that turned my cruiser into a bar-hopper.

Heath on his basement bouldering wall. Bouldering is hard.

I came home for four days and pretty much took over the driveway and garage with my stuff. The boys were nice enough to help out with some of the work.

I drove through Missouri on the heels of a rainstorm that left everything all pretty and spring-like.

I say I live in Arkansas, but really I just have an address there. I actually live here.

More Things I've Learned:

2007-03-21T00:12:00.000-04:00

Just because the wine only costs $3.00 a bottle, doesn't mean you can just drink more of it. In fact, this in highly inadvisable. I know this from a little run-in I had with what we like to call "Three Buck Chuck."
Putting down vinyl flooring isn't as hard as I thought, but it's still not easy. I didn't do the best tiling job ever, but I did my best tiling job ever.

The DMV in Wisconsin is worse than the DMV in Arkansas. I thought I was a genius when I showed up 20 minutes before the place even opened .... apparently I'm not the only one who thought of that:

The guys in the hardware department at Home Depot don't actually know any more about hardware than I do.

I apologize for the lack of explanation here. It's been a LONG two weeks and I'm exhausted. I should be heading back to Arkansas on Thursday, at which point I will have been gone over three weeks. I can't wait to sleep on my luxurious sheets again!

I learn something new everyday.

2007-03-14T10:43:00.000-04:00

A few things this week have become painfully clear to me:

There is a huge difference between Anderson Street and Anderson Road in DeForest, Wisconsin. If you don't specify the right one, Google Maps will send you to some random house instead of the trailer place.

Just because someone is wearing an orange Home Depot apron doesn't necessarily mean he can actually help you find something.

The Volkswagen Touareg is smarter than I am.

If a fat unpleasant state trooper is blocking the exit you need, it's perfectly okay to make an otherwise illegal u-turn on the interstate. In fact, this is advisable.

Rock climbing will make your entire body incredibly sore. It is also more important to know the lingo and to have the coolest gear than it is to actually know how to climb.

Driving a forklift is harder than it looks.

Not everyone understands Daylight Savings Time, especially the change that was made this year. Most notably, my cell phone does not understand this, which is a huge pain in my ass.

Leavin' on a Jet Plane ...

2007-03-03T19:04:00.000-05:00

I've mentioned before that, as a general rule, things do not go according to plan for me. However, in the last few months, I'd begun to think that my luck was changing. As of Thursday ... not so much.

The plan was for me to fly to Omaha and meet my coworkers for an event Thursday night there. Then Friday we would drive to Des Moines for our weekend event. Apparently United Airlines and Mother Nature did not approve of this plan. When I landed in Denver, I had a voicemail on my phone from the airline informing that my connecting flight into Omaha had been cancelled due to the massive amount of snow that fell overnight. Okay. Whatever. So I stood in line at the customer service counter for about half an hour. When it was finally my turn, the rather unpleasant lady there told me that I had been re-booked on a later flight. I wouldn't be arriving in Nebraska until evening at best. I would definitely be missing the event there, if they even still had it. At that point, I really had no good reason to go to Omaha. So I asked the lady if I could fly to Des Moines instead, since I was going there anyway. She got all excited saying how that would free up a seat on the already overbooked Omaha flight. Fantastic.

Then I mentioned my checked luggage. Her face immediately turned sour again as she said, "Well your luggage is going to Omaha." I asked her if she couldn't get it re-routed to Des Moines or something. Ms. Cranky Poopypants gave me this preposterous look and said, "Oh no. There's no way I can do that. You're going to Des Moines, but your luggage is going to Omaha." I reciprocated her preposterious look and replied with, "I don't think so." She got all huffy with me and proceeded to check me in to my later Omaha flight. Meanwhile, these people next to me were having the exact same conversation with another customer service person. Except their person was saying "Oh, no problem. I'll call down and have your luggage re-routed." So I stood there looking at them for a minute and then asked the mean lady again if she was sure she couldn't re-route my luggage. She shot lasers out of her eyes at me and said "I already told you, I can't send your luggage to Des Moines. Your luggage is going to Omaha." I bit my tongue instead of hers and just stood there giving her my best "WTF?" look while kinda motioning toward the lucky couple next to me.

She typed on her stupid keyboard for a few more minutes and then started to give me my boarding pass for the stupid Omaha flight. Just as she was handing it to me, she looked at her screen, stopped, and said "Actually, yeah, I'm going to send you to Des Moines." I gave her a skeptical look and said "What about my luggage that you insist on sending to Omaha?" She said, "Oh yeah, I can re-route that." I just said "Cool." I didn't want to say anything that would cause the crazy lady to change her mind about where my luggage and I were going. Then she got this urgent look on her face and started moving a little faster. She said "Okay, here's your boarding pass. Your flight is boarding right now and your gate is on the other side of the terminal, so you'd better start running over there." Not really thinking, I took off running like an idiot and got to the gate just as the last passengers were boarding. I got on the plane and as the flight attendant started her safety talk, I realized that I would probably not be seeing my luggage for awhile.

The uneventful flight landed in Des Moines on time. I went to the baggage claim area not so much to get my bag, but more to tell the guy to call me when it arrived. I was still pissed off at the crazy lady. If she hadn't dicked around with this Omaha business for 15 minutes before finally calling to have my bag re-routed, then I probably would have had my stuff. I took a cab to the hotel and checked into a room. Right about the time I was checking in, a nasty little storm blew in. I thought I had everything covered. I had my computer, I had work to do, I had books to read. I would just hang out in this room until the next day when my coworkers would arrive. But after about an hour, I realized that I was going to need to eat dinner. Normally that wouldn't be a difficult thing to do, but I had no car. The hotel didn't have a restaurant. The closest eating establishments were several blocks away and with the blizzard going on, walking that far was not an option. I managed to find a pizza place that would deliver despite the unfavorable weather conditions. I just had to resign to the fact that there was pretty much no way I was getting any beer to go with it. So I ate, hung around, and tried several times to get an updated status on my luggage with no success.

The other girls were supposed to drive in from Omaha on Friday morning. I was looking forward to a) having company and b) having transportation to the airport to pick up my luggage which had arrived. The airport wouldn't be able to deliver it until around 3pm, and that wasn't going to cut it. As usual, shit didn't happen like it was supposed to. Julie called me and said that the interstate between Omaha and Des Moines was shut down for the whole day. Bad news. Luckily, I was able to get ahold of the guy in town we were working with. He came and picked me up and took me to the airport to get my luggage. I was pretty happy to get to take a shower and put on clean clothes. We needed to start setting up for our event. Julie had left the trailer with all of our stuff in it in Des Moines, but she had the keys to it with her in Omaha. So we had the guys at the shop cut the locks. This ended up being completely unnecessary. The girls were apparently pretty determined to get the hell out of Omaha. They ended up finding a smaller highway that wasn't closed and took that to get to Des Moines. They made it to town safely and the rest of the day went pretty much as planned, surprisingly enough.

I wouldn't say the rest of the weekend was uneventful, but the stories worth telling would be best told in person. We did our stuff Saturday. A rather large and boisterous group of us went out Saturday night. Again, there are some good stories there, but I'll leave them out for now. We did go through some of these bad boys:

The Essen Haus Boot: 2 whole liters of fun!

Tomorrow we'll drive back to Madison for what I'm sure will be an interesting two weeks or so. Before I go, I have two more items of interest:

Tandems on rollers. Some of you may not be impressed by this, but I was.

Julie's favorite Easter treat. We fell down because we were laughing so hard.
$1.19 for bunny pee? What a bargain!

Keep it goin ...

2007-03-01T01:49:00.000-05:00

I really don't have anything particularly hilarious or insightful to write about, but I promised that I would blog regularly again. Also, this is partly out of spite for Sarah, who was skeptical when I said I was going to blog more. So here's some randomness to keep you busy until I get around to a more substantial post:

I am incredibly disappointed in Grey's Anatomy. Mostly I'm talking about last week's episode. What the hell do these people think they're doing? Is it just me, or is this season becoming increasingly absurd with each new episode? I'm going to give my friends at Seattle Grace one last chance. If they put out one more ridiculous episode, I'm through with them. I can't take anymore of this Touched by an Angel bullshit.

I'll be away from home for the next three weeks or so. Just when the weather starts getting nicer in Arkansas, I'm heading back to Madison where it is still cold and that sucks. But I'm excited about seeing my friends up north.

My book buying habit is out of control. I spent $85 at Barnes & Noble on Sunday. I couldn't help myself. I just didn't see how I could live without reading each of the five books I picked out.

I wish all these people who are still talking about Anna Nicole Smith would SHUT UP.

DO OVER!

2007-02-24T18:00:00.000-05:00

I'm sorry.

My blogging has gone to shit. I've left all of you hangin. I disappeared with no warning or explanation whatsoever. I have no excuse.

Remember when we were kids playing games in the street? Remember when something weird happened and screwed up the game and there was no rule for it? What did we do? We called a do-over. That's what I'm doing. DO-OVER!

I was going to start a whole new blog, but that would be a lot of work. Instead I just deleted all but the very best postings.

Some of you have managed to stay in the oddly misshapen loop of my life. You know where I am and what I've been doing with my time. Some of you are only vaguely aware of what's going on. Others may have no clue whatsoever. So here's a quick recap of recent events:

I managed to snag a job that is way cooler than sitting in a cube taking phone calls all day, so after three months in Wisconsin, I moved back to Arkansas in January. I spent about a month working from the luxurious comfort of my couch. I spent all of last week working in southern Florida. I'm home for the next five days.

A few other details on my life so far in 2007:

I've ridden my bike a couple times.
I went home to see my parents.
I conquered the Wii.
I saw some alligators.
They were not wearing space helmets (that was for Robin).
I had glorious reunions with good friends.
I unpacked about half of my stuff.
I saw Smokin' Aces and thought it was awesome.
I didn't go eat wings with Chad because he didn't call me.
I found a rather inappropriate object in my luggage and am currently calculating how I will exact my revenge on the person who put it there.
I turned 24.

And, since Sarah claims that "pictures are substance," a few snapshots:

Eat Me.

2006-11-30T09:04:00.000-05:00

New "Foods" I've Tried Lately (some delightful, others not so much):

1. Fried Lemon ... surprisingly delightful.

2. Braunschweiger ... also known as "liver sausage." I didn't know about this alternate description when someone told me it was delicious. So I tried it. Then they told me what it was made of (liver, milk, and eggs). Then I was unhappy that it was in my mouth. It most closely resembles cat food. Not so delightful.

3. Pumpkin Ale ... I've actually had this from two different breweries. One was amazingly delightful, the other, not so much.

4. Fish Tacos ... stop laughing. These were made with swordfish. Delightful.

5. Cheese Curds ... made of magic and happiness held together by algebra. They squeak against your teeth when you chew them and it's neat! Also delicious fried. Very Delightful.

6. Skate Wing ... I was tricked into eating this. They told me it was "just a kind of fish." It looked like a huge ear on the plate, but I ate it anyway. It was tasty and delightful. But then I made the mistake of looking this thing up on the information superhighway. I threw up in my mouth a little when I saw it. I had nightmares last night. I'm still a little queasy this morning. I mean, seriously ... look at this thing!

Not so delightful.

Another Thing That Makes Me Smile:

2006-11-16T23:11:00.000-05:00

Actually, this makes me laugh out loud with a sinister tone in my voice.

Why America is Fat.

2006-11-09T22:59:00.000-05:00

I once read an article about the top five reasons women don't go to the gym regularly. According to the author, a number of women cited the awkwardness of the locker room as a major concern. I can see how women might be intimidated by the idea of getting naked in front of complete strangers. I, however, am not afraid of such a thing. It doesn't really bother me to change in the locker room. I may or may not wrap myself in a towel to walk to the shower. I doubt anyone is looking at me, and I don't care what they think anyway. I've never really been embarrassed in the locker room … until tonight.

After I ran and lifted, I sat in the hot tub for a while, then it was back into the locker room to shower and change. It was around 7, which is just about the time that everyone else is in the locker room too. The after work crowd is leaving and the later crowd is just coming in. I was drying off as I was walking back to my locker, so needless to say, I didn't have the towel covering all of me. There were probably 15 people in the immediate vicinity of my locker, all changing, brushing their hair, or tying their shoes or whatever. So I was standing at my locker opening my lock when I experienced one of the top ten most awkward moments of my life. This was easily my most awkward locker room moment ever.

First, a bit of background information. How many of you have ever seen me moon anyone? That’s right … none of you. Little known fact: I’ve got a birthmark on each butt cheek. No. Seriously. And they’re symmetrically placed. Given that I’m prone to humorous and/or unusual situations, this shouldn’t surprise anyone. I’ve never really been embarrassed by this, but I don’t exactly go around showing everyone either.

I’m sure I don’t really have to tell you what happened while I was standing there naked opening my locker. Water aerobics had just ended and this little old lady was changing across the bench from me. I was standing there minding my own business, as one should in the locker room, when this creepy old lady says (loudly enough for everyone to hear), "My, aren’t those cute little birthmarks." … … and another very large old lady added, "That’s interesting." What the hell lady? Why are looking at my butt? And why are you POINTING IT OUT TO EVERYONE? Those of you who know me well can imagine the look on my face as I turned around, smirked at everyone looking at me, and hurriedly put my pants on.

As I stood there and finished changing, I realized that this little old lady could be directly responsible for the growing obesity epidemic. She is the reason women feel awkward in the locker room. She is the reason women who don’t go to the gym choose not to. Fat people of America, point your chubby fingers at her.

And when did Desperate Housewives get so violent?

I'm Mad As Hell ...

2006-11-03T09:11:00.000-05:00

... And I'm not gonna take it anymore. This is different than the rollerbladers or CP2. Those people are just irritating. This is not irritation. This is severe blinding rage.

I've always been pretty happy with Arvest, but Arvest does not exist here. I figured long distance banking would be much like long distance relationships. A lot of unnecessary hassle and inconvenience. So I opened an account with Park Bank. I chose this bank because they have 11 locations in the Madison area and one of these locations happens to be right between my house and my office.This bank was a mistake.When I set up my account, my paycheck still had my Arkansas address on it since I was still living at StudioPlus when I filled out my payroll paperwork. The guuy at the bank needed something with my Madison address printed on it. I told him I had changed my address at work and so my next paycheck would have my address, which I would bring in on Friday. Good enough. So that Friday, I go in to deposit my check and I tell the teller to please make a copy of it and give it to Tim. Seems easy enough. Apparently not.

Tim calls me on the following Tuesday reminding me that I need to bring in proof of address. I tell him I did that on Friday. He apologizes and says he'll find it. About a week later, he calls again telling me they can't find the copy and that I need to have them make a copy of my next paycheck that I deposit. Fine. Stuff happens. Stuff gets lost. Whatever.So the following Friday was the Bike Fed party, so I didn't make it to the bank to deposit my check. I also didn't make it the following Friday (I get paid weekly) because Beer Friday got out of hand. So I go to the bank on Monday. I prefer to go into the lobby, but the doors are locked. I look at the hours, and this godforsaken place closes the lobby at 5. What the hell? So I go through the drive thru. I am the only car in the drive thru. I tell the lady that I need her to look up my account number and that I need her to make a copy of one of the checks and give it to Tim. She bluntly informs me that I should conduct transactions like this in the lobby. What the hell lady? Your shitty lobby closes at 5! And besides, it's not like there are people waiting. So she says she'll take care of it this time. How gracious.So I thought everything was cool.

But nooo .... On Tuesday, the HR guy comes by and says, "Hey, just a heads up, Park Bank called to verify your employment." I tell him that's cool. But no, nothing involving Park Bank is cool. Yesterday I went to a bike shop to get some parts swapped from one wheel to another wheel. The charge was five bucks. So I give him my debit card, and it's DECLINED. Maybe it's just a freak deal. So I go to get gas and guess what? DECLINED. So I come home and sign on to my account and they've put a hold on my account! So I call the bank today and the person says they are still waiting for verification of my address! I resisted the urge to tell this person how fucking ridiculous this is. I ask to speak with Tim, who put the hold on my account, but he wasn't available.

Park Bank has succeeding in offering the crappiest, most inconvenient banking experience possible. I'm having trouble understanding how they can suck so much. They've proven their inability to handle anything well by failing to get this copy in the right hands not once, but twice. They know I'm a real person and not just some transient since they called to check my employment. And regardless, it's my money! It's not like I'm wanting a loan or anything. I can't believe they're punishing me for their sheer lack of competence. They are clearly not capable of handling my three hundred dollars and I will let them know this by taking my three hundred dollars elsewhere. That'll show em.

Welcome To MadCity.

2006-09-18T00:39:00.000-04:00

I’d like to think that some of you out there are wondering how the big move went. I’d like to be able to say that everything went according to plan. However, as I stumble through life, it becomes increasingly apparent that things do not, as a general rule, go according to plan for me. On with the story … from the top:

The pre-moving days went pretty much as one would expect. I packed, put stuff in the u-Haul, and got to hang with some cool friends one last time. Helen and I left town Thursday evening, stopped in Springfield to see my uncle, and arrived in St. Louis in the middle of the night. After a brief stay with our friend Hux, we continued on our way Friday morning. We arrived in Madison, as planned, at around 6pm on Friday. This is where plans changed.

Okay, so I took a gamble. I found a place online. I spent about a week online searching various websites and communicating via e-mail with potential roommates. It was a hassle. Most of these people wanted security deposits, leases, references, interviews and stuff like that. I realize these are common practices, but still, it was a hassle. So then I find this dude whose ad specifically stated "no hassle." A flat six bills a month, everything included. I e-mail back and forth with the guy a couple times. He tells me it’s several male grad students sharing the house. He says women have lived there with no problems. They’re all laid back and friendly and all that stuff. He describes the house as nice, clean, and spacious. This house was also only a mile from work. It really did sound like a pretty good deal. And besides, if I didn’t like it, I could just move out after a month, since there was no lease. In retrospect, I really should have asked more questions.

During the trip, I started realizing that maybe I should have researched this a little more. So I was pretty nervous and hoping my new home wouldn’t suck. So we pull up to the house at 6pm on Friday. Dude comes walking down the driveway. The first thing out of my mouth was "Uh … he’s old and looks like a douchebag." Helen says we should have just driven away right then. But we didn’t. Dave (from here on out, we’ll be referring to him as The Sex Offender because that’s what he reminds me of) takes us in to show us the place. And he is indeed a douchebag. The first thing I noticed about the place is that it smelled and looked like a place where someone’s crazy old aunt might live with her two poodles that died a long time ago but she had them stuffed by her nephew/roommate who is an amateur taxidermist on parole for aggravated assault with a lawnmower blade. The Sex Offender walks into what is obviously the living room (but it’s empty) and says, "This is your room." I thought he was joking. But he wasn’t. Then he shows us the rest of the house. At this point, I’ve gone into shock and I don’t know what to do. So then we start unloading my stuff and I want to cry. There are no grad students here. This house is not nice. This house is not clean. This house is not spacious. This guy is WEIRD and CREEPY. The Sex Offender ordered two of the roommates to help unload, so that got done pretty quickly. So then Helen and I leave to go eat. We are freaking out. Helen is betting that there are no churches or schools within a mile of this place, otherwise they wouldn’t let the guy live there. We find the nearest Starbucks so we can have Internet access to find another place to live. We calm down a little and go back to the house to get my stuff. No way in hell are we staying there. I tell Sex Offender my made up excuse. I tell him that my dad didn’t know I was staying in a house with a bunch of dudes and that he is really mad and says I can’t stay there. Sex Offender isn’t happy, but doesn’t put up a fight. One of the roommates helps us load the stuff back up. We think he seems like a normal person. He starts talking to us and telling us he hates it there and that it’s weird and depressing. We decide to try to rescue him. Helen tells him we’re going to look at a place that has two rooms available (Helen has been on the phone most of the night talking to potential roommates). We give him our number and leave.

We find a Holiday Inn Express and decide to stay there. As we’re checking in, the normal guy from the house (from here on, we refer to him as The Failure, you’ll see why) calls. Actually, it wasn’t the Failure himself, but a friend. She says he doesn’t have his phone and so he’s on Instant Messenger with her telling her what to say. So she’s relaying this conversation and it’s just like I’m talking to my parents on the phone. For those who either don’t know or have forgotten, my parents are both deaf, so they have to use a relay service to make phone calls. The Failure wants us to come get him since his car is out of commission from a recent accident. Helen and I decide that the guy could be a huge loser, but he’s not creepy, so he deserves a chance. Also, we are too nice. We pick up The Failure and head toward downtown to look at this guy’s flat with two rooms available. The place is really cool and so is the guy who lives there. Since it’s Friday night and all, he has friends over. So he shows us around, we have some drinks, and we go on our merry way. Helen and I want to walk around downtown and we want to go to the Great Dane Pub. The Failure says he knows how to get to the Great Dane. We walked for what seemed like miles and then we realize that the Failure doesn’t actually know where he’s going. So we ask some people and they tell us where it is, which happens to be very close to where we started, which is now very far away. We are unhappy about this. So we finally get to the Great Dane and we’re happy that they are still serving food. We’re showing the bouncer our ID’s when The Failure tells us he doesn’t have his. Helen and I are hungry, tired, and somewhat pissed off. We have realized that this guy is living in the Sex Offender’s house still because he’s obviously too stupid to help himself get out of a shitty situation. I mean, this guy was industrial-strength stupid. He is clearly destined to be a failure at life, hence the nickname. So we get some food at Burger King and then we drop The Failure off at the Sex Offender’s house. We get back to our hotel and promptly pass out.

The next morning we wake up and start trying to come up with a plan of action. My first thought, upon waking, was "Fuck this. I’m going back to Arkansas." Then I decide that The Failure would do something like that. So I booked myself a week at an extended stay hotel, which pissed me off because it’s not cheap. I called the u-Haul place and ascertained that they did have storage available. Sweet. We had a plan. We would go to the u-Haul place and put my stuff in storage and return the trailer. We would eat lunch and then head to Chicago so Helen could make her flight home. We wouldn’t have time to go to Ikea like we had originally planned, but I was okay with that. We get in the truck and we’re ready to go. When we got to the hotel the night before, parking was limited, so I had pulled into this space knowing I would have to back out in the morning. Knowing that I am an excellent driver, this had not concerned me in the least. But I had forgotten that this was not a trip where things go smoothly. I start my truck and take my foot off the gas to put it in reverse. The engine stalls. It’s early, it’s kinda chilly, and I try again. Same thing. My truck WON’T IDLE. Now, I’ve had this problem before. Usually I just perform this tricky maneuver where I rev the engine a little and then really quickly take my foot off the gas, put the truck in gear, and put my foot back on the gas before it stalls. Then once I drive it a ways, it’s fine. But try doing this tricky maneuver while backing a trailer. A lesser woman would have had a nervous breakdown. I just cussed a lot. After a lot more cussing, some banging on the steering wheel in frustration, and some encouragement from Helen, I managed to get out of the parking lot and on the road. We get to the u-Haul place and the guys there are the nicest people you could ever expect to deal with at a u-Haul place. Then the guy tells me that since I had used the reservation system to get the trailer, I was entitled to get my first month of storage for FREE instead of having to pay $80. I wanted to hug that man. I told him this was the first thing that had gone well on this trip. I literally start tearing up. The rest of the process was pretty painless. We got my stuff put in the FREE storage unit, returned the trailer, and headed out of town. We got to Chicago with no major hurdles except when we got lost trying to find the Phillips 66 station we saw from the highway. I dropped Helen off at the airport and headed back to Madison knowing that if anything else went wrong, I would for sure have a nervous breakdown without her there.

I made it to my hotel, no thanks to the receptionist who had her head up her ass. I called for directions and she couldn’t really tell me. She was basically like "I don’t know." So I had to stop at Starbucks and MapQuest it. Then I got here and guess who was behind the desk! I told her I had a reservation, but she couldn’t find it. I told her I just made the reservation that morning. She stared at me with a vacant expression normally associated with fish. I gave her my confirmation number. She finally figured it out. She moved at the speed of a brontosaurus and clearly had to put in some effort to construct coherent sentences. When I got to my room, I checked my e-mail and passed out from the sheer exhaustion that results from having narrowly escaped the Sex Offender, having put up with and subsequently ditched The Failure, and having to deal with other fun little "obstacles."

Welcome to Madison.

Revenue Office ... Yay!

2006-08-24T12:44:00.000-04:00

The last time I renewed my driver's license, I was in Oklahoma and it was before they switched to the new ones. So for a couple years I've had this ID that you could swear was made in someone's basement. I'd had it a couple years, so it was starting to look even worse. So I decided to go get a new license.

I'm one of those people whose whole perception of life has been heavily influenced by TV. I actually believe infomercials and I have been known to get up immediately after a Sonic commercial to go get a cheeseburger. So this seems odd coming from me, but I really thought they were exaggerating when they showed people at the DMV or the Revenue Office on TV. They always show these terribly sad places where lines don't move and people never smile. I thought, "Surely it's not that bad."

I was SO wrong. I went to the Springdale Revenue Office, which is in a crappy little shopping center on 412. Walking in, I was greeted by one of those machines where you take a number. This machine had clearly seen years of faithful service, telling thousands of people "You're going to be here awhile and we don't really care." The panels covering the flourescent lights were dingy and some of them were home to various insects. In the rows of chairs sat the best of Springdale. Most of them sat hunched over, resigned to their fate of treading through an unavoidably tedious process for something as simple as a car tag. I think I actually saw cobwebs on some of them; though based on their apparently cavalier approach to hygiene, I'm not certain they didn't bring those in with them.

I was instantly dismayed upon seeing the number machine. Then after surveying the situation a little more, I saw the "express line" for renewals and for ID's. Score! But there were seven people already in the "express line." Regardless, it had to be a better option than the godforsaken number machine. After standing in the "express line" for almost half an hour, I realized that it wasn't actually any faster than the take-a-number approach. Once again, I had been fooled by the system. At least those who had opted for a number got to sit down.

Finally, I made it to the front of the "express line." Without really looking at the lady, I hand her my old ID and my passport and my $20 and I tell her I need an Arkansas driver's license. Then I looked at her and had one of those moments where I hoped my sudden displeasure had not registered on my face. I know, I know, the words "displeasure" and "revenue office" pretty much go together, but I was taken aback at her eyes. She had googly eyes! If you're not familiar with googly eyes then a) where the hell have you been? and b) see the artist's rendering at the top of this post.

I don't care who you are, googly eyes will catch you off guard and at least some degree of shock will come across you. I find it extremely difficult to take anyone with googly eyes seriously. Do they know they have googly eyes?

Anyway, as if that weren't enough, she was kind enough to provide a running commentary on the entire process. Also, she apparently had not yet grasped the concept of compound sentences. It went something like this:

COOKIE MONSTER: Oklahoma ... expires February 2007.
ME: Sure does.
COOKIE MONSTER: Passport ... expires May 2009.
ME: Sounds right.
COOKIE MONSTER: Went to El Salvador.
ME: That is correct.
COOKIE MONSTER: Got blonde hair. Wear corrective lenses. Born in '83.
ME: Yeah.
COOKIE MONSTER: Lived on Birkenhead. Middle name is Marie. Birthday in January. You're an organ donor.
ME: Yeah ... I know.
COOKIE MONSTER: I'll fill out this information here. I'll put this stamp here. I'll tear on this dotted line. Sign right here.
ME (under my breath as I sign): You gotta be kidding me.
COOKIE MONSTER: Sit down right there. Gonna take your picture here. Gonna focus the camera. Okay, took your picture. Gonna push this little button. I'll put this piece onto this other piece. I have googly eyes. (she didn't really say that last part)

After she finished with the play-by-play on making my new license, I gave the number machine one last scornful look and hightailed it out of there. I had to get far away fast from the most effective reminder yet that hell is probably just a huge waiting room where your number never gets called.

Fear of Facebook

2006-08-14T02:26:00.000-04:00

As some of you have probably noticed, I have recently joined the Facebook world. For those of you who don't know about Facebook, let me just give you this description directly from Facebook: "People with a valid e-mail address from a supported high school, college, or company can register for Facebook and create a profile to share information, photos, and interests with their friends."

Seems harmless. Actually, seems useful, and in some ways, it is. I probably won't have to go to my 10-year high school reunion since I can just see what everyone is doing on Facebook. On the other hand, Facebook has created much unforseen social anxiety for me. I start finding people I know and then I see that "Jon Jon has 497 friends." Then I start to get a little concerned. I look at my puny little list of friends. Granted, it's a damn good list of people, but what if people think I'm a loser because I don't have eleven thousand Facebook friends? Then, what if people laugh at me for being friends with certain people? No, Leah, it's not you.

So then I start the quest to get more Facebook friends. What are the guidelines for Facebook friends? What qualifies someone to be your friend? Obviously the people I would consider friends in real life qualify. Even people I only consider aquaintances qualify, for the most part. People I was friends with in high school, they qualify. Even Trey Featherly, who was my boyfriend in Kindergarten and later took all my Pogs in 7th grade qualifies (I want my Pogs back, you bastard). But then what? What if I went to high school with someone, but we weren't really friends? Or what if I don't really know someone, but I've met them because they are friends with one of my friends? Or what if I had a class with someone and maybe borrowed his or her notes once, but that's the extent of our relationship? Do they qualify? Will they chuckle condescendingly at me for being foolish enough to think they would be my Facebook Friend? So then as if I don't fear rejection enough in real life, here I am fearing ... get this, it's pretty lame ... Facebook rejection.

Just when I sit back and really think about this and really start to get worried that I'll get voted "Biggest Facebook Loser" at my high school reunion (man I hope I'm cool by then), I have a revelation. I think to myself, "Who gives a damn?" I also have a new slogan for Facebook.

Facebook ... the online pissing contest.

Which fruit is that?

2006-08-11T01:38:00.000-04:00

I really like the Fruit of the Loom commercials that have been on lately. I especially like the country music one.

There's only one thing that bothers me: what the hell is the guy on the far right supposed to be?
I don't know of any fruit that looks like that. If I did, I probably wouldn't eat it.