Well, I Am Tired

I thought it was the bike.

It's The E-Can-omy Stupid

I never realized how difficult it can be to find PBR. A few weeks ago I went to the Total Beverage in VA. I asked for PBR in a can. And you see I'm drinking Bud. Total Beverage, does not include PBR, in a can.

It's all about the can. Precious metal you know. Platinum, Gold, Silver, Copper, Aluminum. It's a tough economy; don't knock the penny worthy can.

Just this past week we watched a pickup drive by; CanMan, we called him. He had all kinds of cans blowing out the back of his pickup. We used to call that trash.

I thought, really? He went through all that trouble to get those cans and he's gonna let them fly out the back like Styrofoam peanuts? Nope, he was back in a jif with a buddy who ran behind picking up the discarded can$.

Just today I threw the metal casing from my faulty dehumidifier at the curb. I wondered if they'd take it. Oh, they took it alright. Well, somebody did, before the trash men even came. It's a crazy, canny world.

And for the record, I'm only drinking piss beer for the free glass of water that comes with every can. It saves me the trouble and cuts back on the dehydration headaches. And, apparently feeds the neighbors. I'm doing my part. It's the American way.

And The Enemy Goes To...

Man, do I miss Keith Olbermann. Have I got a candidate for "The Worst Person in the World...."!

For the past few days he resided at 4506 ONP. It's a nice sized family restaurant up for grabs. $979k. So if you have a cool Mil lying around could I appeal to your centses?

Really, someone needs to buy this joint. To get rid of its owner if nothing else. Is it any wonder the grease pit went under? With owners like that who needs customers?

There's this little bike race that spans the land, it's called RAAM. For the past few years the over sized parking lot of this boarded up abandoned building served as an oasis in a fiercely fought fight.

Many a weary traveler has collapsed behind the wheel before the roar of an overworked engine even came to a purr. The hood of their home never so much as cooling before whisking away once again in a crazy race to the finish.

But this Saturday that all came to an end. When the Meanest Man in the World laid claim to his empty, unused, abandoned piece of asphalt. Closing it off to any and all.

Pourquoi? Por que? Zakaj? Waarom? Varfor? Perche? Exactly.

All I can think is he wanted to be not just an asshole, but a Globally known Asshole. Mission Accomplished. And Restaurant still Empty.

Paws And THINK

I know I say this a lot, but I've got another one of those behaviors that should land offenders in prison. And unlike painting brick, this time I think I have a leg to stand on!

It's about puppies. People L O V E them some puppies. People do sick and crazy things for puppies. Things they don't even do for babies.

And here's the thing, I'm not a dog owner (sniff, anymore) but this seems like common sense. And still I hear it on the TV ALL the time. ALL. THE. TIME. When it's hot, your dogs get hot. Don't leave them in cars and remember their poor pads. If I've heard it once, I've heard it too much!

Apparently not. Today this poor little pup was at Capital Pride and although the temperature is lower than it's been, it was still HOT. And when sun meets pavement, it COOKS. And I could smell puppy paws.

Have you ever walked on hot pavement? It's effingham hot! Unbearably HOT. You dance. From foot to foot. For relief. Until you can sprint to grass. Tell me you don't.

But this guy was on a leash. Being led by an incredible cruel owner. He picked up his paw and his paw and his paw and his paw. What else could he do? He's got FOUR feet! I've never seen a dog look that unhappy. Right about then his owner just stopped. To flirt. Or talk. Or whatever the fuck.

Actually here's what I suggest...not prison. Hot pavement. Let's stand the owners on sunny warm pavement and make them just STAND there. No hopping, no running, no relief of any kind. I suspect some people haven't stood on hot pavement since they were 10. I think just maybe, they need a reminder....

Tutu or Not Tutu?

I said I wasn't going to write about this, but it looks like I am. It's just another traffic incident, but with an Yvette ending (and that doesn't mean BAD, it just means unexpected).

First, if you want respect in the bike lane (or out) trying wearing a tutu. This might only work for half the population, but I'm telling you it works. People's nice as pie.

Once you take it off, however, look out! So heading down 14th was delightful. Coming back up...not so much.

Take the Porsche that cut me off. I took advantage of the top being down to spew words of disdain. Having learned earlier in the day I don't let drivers know enough when they screw up, I figured this was my chance.

He also took advantage of his convertible to spew his own discouraging words. But get this, like the girl in the SUV, I'm not exactly sure of his point. He informed us that here in DC the law is bikes are like vehicles!

Be still my heart. The words I long to hear. Bikes are vehicles. YES! Exactly, I say this ALL the time. WAIT, why is HE saying it...he just cut me off and stole my lane. "Yes Sir, why then did you just take my lane?" or maybe something not as eloquent...

Somehow we began arguing, although it seems to me we must have been saying the same thing, except that whatever that was it meant he could do whatever HE wanted and I could not. I just kept hearing vehicle and seeing my lane disappear.

It wasn't going well until my hero appeared at the edge of the curb. A complete stranger walking by. He looked down at mighty man in the car screaming at the Pride filled pixies and said simply, "you're an asshole." I couldn't have said it better myself. "THANK YOU"

Next time I'm going to sit in HIS lane and BLOCK it even AFTER the light turns green. When he gets mad and starts yelling and honking I'll simply shrug, throw up my hands and tell him my vehicle stalled and won't start. I called AAA, they should be here momentarily....

Pedal Pusher

Zapatos. They're sandals. And what do I think of them? Why do you ask? It will influence my answer.

Well they're not Keens. If you're buying them because you love the feel of your Keens, keep shopping. And they are hot. Kinda hotter than my shoes.

Have you ever unclipped a sandal? It's not easy to get out of. I'm only mentioning it because the first time my sandals met traffic my face met the pavement. If there's a pros/cons list: CON. Although on the sandals front, the Keen is the sturdiest I've tried: PRO.

I just saw a commerical that says I should be paid for this. Giving my opinion on products is worth cool cash...and here you are gettin' it for free! For what it's worth.

And if you're prone to rubber rub...you little bits know exactly who you are!...sandals are the worst! One sharp turn and you're going down again. Even IF you can get your foot out of the pedal.

I love my new pedals by the way. The other platform/SPDs....two thumbs down...and you get that rating withOUT the SUV sideswipe. That's free on free. But these babys...N.I.C.E.

Tale Light

How do you like that? My light has an effingham sense of humor. All the way home I bet it stayed dark. NOW it works. Nice.

I've gotten lazy. I'm a layzee biker. I used to carry a flashlight. I used to carry spare batteries. I used to have a spare light in my locker. I used to have a spare light on my helmet. I used to care.

Now I'm not even sure if the spare tube I have in my bag is good. Or fits. Or if my pump is in there. I don't have reflective gear, I'm not wearing bike shoes, and there isn't a shiny bit on my wooden bicycle.

So there I was tonight with a broken light. Or apparently, one that only works on the kitchen table. Oooooh, as I sit here now, I'm thinking there just might have been a working light on my hub. Funny thing is, it doesn't work if you don't remember.

"It's not a law to have a light on your bike is it?"

"Indeed it is."

"But a cop won't pull you over and give you a ticket"

"I'm more concerned about not being seen than the law."

"But I see bikers out there all the time without lights"

"Again, I'm not interested in the ones you SEE, just the ones you DON'T. "

Bottoms Up!

Happy Birthday Kiley. Cheers to you!

Close Call For Alcohol

Last night I was driving home, minding my own business, sober as a saint, when this chick totally hit on me.

I know, you're looking at the picture of my car, picking up on the not so clever hit on me double meaning, rolling your eyes. But you don't know the half of it!

Yeah, she hit on me. Side swiped a healthy portion on the rear panel of my car. I saw her hulking SUV in my periphery as I came around the circle. I swerved like a fixie in city traffic but I still heard the swoosh of paint on paint.

I suspect her bass drowned out the sound in addition to her judgment because I believe she chalked this up to a close call. I wasn't sure what to do as I relocated to the center lane of Chevy Chase Circle. I came to a complete stop there between the fountain and the church.

She sidled up next to me peering down from her massive automobile, and stopped dead next to me in the lane that should have been mine. When I looked up at her the most curious thing happened. She was grinning from ear to ear and gave me an emphatic thumbs up. Repeatedly. Like: hey I dig your bumper sticker! Mind if I grab a rubbing of it?

And then she drove on. I can't say she didn't stop per se, because she did, but she didn't. I was in shocked disbelief. Did this bitch just hit my car, cheer my driving tactics, and continue on? Why yes, that's exactly what she did.

Way to go! Drive Baby Drive! Shake those Civic Hips! But you actually HIT my car! It's not okay. Scared the paint right off your own. You don't get to thumbs up me. You can't say something nice and leave your paint on my chassis cover. WHAT is wrong with you? Thank god I was in a car.