No Time Flat

No big deal. It's all good. Ain't nothin' but a thing. Someone definitely greased the Squeak. It's like I don't even know you anymore.

Today, I got a flat. It happens. A lot. To a biker. Unfortunately today, we were in a car. BwaaH!

Let's recap. One half foot of water in basement. No electric. Sodden white carpet. Mold. Growing on my uvula...wha, hey now! Close your mouth, I don't need to see yours!

Broken wet vac. Flood, flood, flood. Damaged concrete, misengineered landscape. Flood, flood. Shit! Yes, shit! Roots. Sounds like performance art. (reread that in your poetry voice)

Motherfuckin' flat tire. Whatever. I don't care. I don't really have the cash to fix everything, but at least I have a j.o.b. My severance should be running out right about now. Narrowly averted disaster.

And somewhere in the middle of my stream of bad luck I found love. An embraceable distraction. She hates my public blog. So I stuck her in here just because. :) Sorry babe.

Pain in the Grass

Enough is ENOUGH! I have had it with these motherfuckin' snakes in this motherfuckin' drain!

It's been a long, wet month. And I'm tired and pruned. I am disgusted by my own filth. I would like to walk away and live under a bridge. It would be cleaner and drier.

I miss indoor plumbing. I hate this view of my house. I miss my bicycle. I hate my house. I want to walk barefoot in my own backyard.

Roots. The culprit: roots. The hairy phalange-like living destroyers, not the powerful mini-series. And, much to my surprise, not the woody strong tree balancers. Grass roots. Fescue, blue, crab...also not the Billboard Rock Band.

Really? Really, really? For now the trouble is quieted. Cross your fingers, say a prayer. Kiss Chris; C & C Plumbing is my flavor of the month.

Movie Trivia: Did you happen to know there is a character in Snakes on a Plane called Man Bitten on Penis? That's your big break? Man Bitten on Penis. I'm sorry. I didn't see the movie, did anyone suck the venom out?

Be The Bike

Wait for it...click. click. click? CLICK!?!

Where's the click? Did you hear a click? What a tease. What a disappointment. What a rip.

What I wanted was pedals with an option. I love choices. I hate being backed in a corner, put in a box, stuck in something other than an SPD. Nobody puts Baby in the corner!

Today I flipped my platform pedal looking to marry to the cause. I was ready to lock and load. Ready to go the distance. Ready to commit. This wasn't running or walking. This was biking; let's get it on!

Cool your heels, said the metal from the pedal. My shoe was denied. Denied? No satifying click. No one with the pedal. No push while you pull. Just perpedual independence, not that there's anything wrong with that.

I was robbed! But it wasn't like that. Like the oft used: It isn't you, it's me, it really was! All me! It wasn't so much Operator Error as it was a Wardrobe Malfunction. Don't tell the FCC.

Clipless pedals (although somewhat misleading to an inexperienced cyclist) actually require a cleat that clips into place creating the link between you and the bike. Without it your stroke is uneven, less effective, only half satisfying. With it You Are The Bike.

But the key is that cleat. When you put on the wrong shoes...without the actual cleat, they don't really work. At all.

That's What She Said

There was a sign. It said, do you prefer pleasures over God? And here I thought they went hand in hand...so to speak. oh god, oh god, OH GOD.

Speaking of which, can I just tell you about the pleasure between my legs yesterday? oh god! I will never have anything that expensive betwixt them again.

How was it, he winked.

It was the best ride ever, she beamed.

Were you going or coming, he said, so proud of himself.

She threw down her hand, knowing she got him, oh man, was I wet!

With the help of GAN's dirty little mind.

Tornadicane

I bailed on every plan I had today. And you have no idea how funny that really is. Effing hilarious. Hey Jean, tell me again why I need a basement??

I live in a war zone. And it's 1893. Apparently. Again with the power? Really? Really, really?

Someone kill the Lorax...the trees need not a fuzzy ?beaver? (I guess he's not, but doesn't he look like one?) speaking for them. Tip off Once-ler, I know a place he can get some trees....

MUST SEE. Cute cape cod perfect for a young couple or misunderstood artist. Beautiful hardwood floors throughout, finished upstairs, amazing tiled stairway, deck, spouse house out back, wading pool in the basement. CHEAP.

Do you think it would it be okay to gargle with bleach? I mean I wouldn't actually swallow it....

Rubber Meet Road

Yes I Am.

A Fish WITH a Bicycle

Cute. My bike was laughing at me. I'm glad you are enjoying yourself down there.

Seriously, what is that, bike humor? Did I pay extra for that? In hindsight the feature is kinda cute; on the hill when I was dying...oh, not so much.

Does your bike do this? I was just riding along minding my own business when I shifted and shifted and shifted some more. And then the weirdest thing happened...

My bike said, "Go Fish." Fish? Go Fish? Did you just call me Fish? Or as in, Hook, Line, and Sink Her?

No, as in, "Do you have any lower gears?" GO FISH.

Wait! My bike...TALKS?

Petal for a Pedal

The day started nice anyway. But boy did she end in a spitting angry rage. Let's call it: Choose Your Own Death.

First I chose storm. I figured the rain would make the ride more enjoyable with a traveling natural sprinkler to cool me down.

Second I chose park. Death by car or tree? I mean I'd hate to ruin somebody's day by causing more traffic.

But turns out, it was death by electrocution. What'd I do to you?? Eye for an eye. Petal for a pedal. And I was just talking about a guy who was killed by lightning....I's so smart.

The first strike scared the shit out of me. I jerked, I weaved, I damn near fell down. THAT was close. It's true, I smell burnt toast. I could hear the electricity tickle my earlobe.

The second got me thinking. Could the overly large knife, yes KNIFE, in my bag actually draw the lightning to me? Thanks Keith! Even better: biker knocked unconscious in the 'hood....had 8" knife in bag and thousands in cash.

FukenGroovin'

Can you sue a church for false advertising? I'm pretty sure my car was NOT baptized before it was booted from the premises. What they meant to say was:

Unwelcome to the Vienna Assembly of God UNAUTHORIZED VEHICLES WILL BE PERSECUTED.

I checked before I parked. There was no sign saying I couldn't park there. Yet, when I returned, someone was in the parking lot shooing away outsiders.

Open Doors. Open Minds. Closed Parking Lots? You are welcome, but your car is not. Oh right, that's the Methodists. Obviously not the God Assemblers. I tried to gAssemble and I was asked to leave.

Humanitarian when it's convenient, or a ticket to heaven, or a method of atonement. I get it. PS...there is no U in God.

We are just as selfish as the next guy, and it's OUR lot. "Forgive me Father for I have turned away your flock at your doorstep. You might have to give a little something extra to get her back."

Please, come in, sit down, pray with us. Leave a tip at the door. Open your heart to Jesus, but get your damn car out of our Fukenlot. Amen.