Happy Monday everyone. My weekend begins now. It is kinda weird having Tuesday and Wednesday replace my Saturday and Sunday, but that’s how it goes when the busiest days in the shop are on the weekend. My “weekend” here isn’t very fun anyways. Sometimes I go work on more bikes for no pay at the co-op. Otherwise I just lounge around at the house.
There just ain’t much here that excites me. When I think about going on a ride, I usually stop myself by asking, “What’s the point?” It used to be fun to ride because I could get to somewhere cool. Last Wednesday, Jared and I went riding on the lakefront path. On the way out, things were fine. Then we turned around. The wind was insane, and my feet were wet from all the snow, so I was freezing. I felt like a pansy but I was whimpering because my foot was burning it was so cold. Then when we were off the lake, we crossed the street and I almost got hit by a car as we were making a left turn. After that I just started crying about how much I hate it here.
I just want to be back in las montanas. Don’t really care which ones…I JUST NEED the fucking mountains. There is something monumental about hanging out on top of the product of tectonic plates colliding.
I want to be back here…having my birthday party on top of Tucson’s Mt. Lemmon with Jared. We went up the mountain and camped 3 times that week. Good times!:
I’ve tried the multicultural urban experience out here for a while. Beyond the food, it’s not been very satisfying. Though there are a lot of different kinds of people in this neighborhood and they do intermingle, it still manages to be very segregated. I guess that teaches you something about people, class divisions, and how racism can manifest itself.
Work is still very frustrating because of the pay. I understand that it’s a hole in the wall in the ghetto and is barely surviving, but my “training” is over now. They expect me to work fast now, so where is the dough? It’s ok…I’ve established my own ethics now about working in the shop.
Since I’m not being adequately compensated in the first place, I just give more to the customers and get more experience in the process. I try to work fast so I can do extra stuff to a lot of the tune-ups. Sometimes I sneak in a hub overhaul when the boss isn’t looking. Trust me, that’s kinda hard to pull off when it comes to rear wheels. Yesterday, I got yelled at for pulling a pair of V-brake calipers off the posts to regrease them because they were gunked.
It’s so absurd that I’m making less than I did at my first job ever when I was in 10th grade. I worked at a hot dog and snow cone stand on the boardwalk of Virginia Beach. It was co-owned by my geometry and math analysis teachers. If I remember correctly I did pretty darn well at the hot dog stand.
I could get used to a shop like this one. These guys don’t actually fix bikes, they just clean them and dance around them and go on test rides. These lyrics are very cryptic. I can’t tell if the song is about cocaine or bikes or both. It’s almost as though they’re speaking a different language:
Darlin’ don’t you go and cut your hair
Do you think it’s gonna make him change?
Spring is on the way. Time to stop hibernatin’. I got a haircut. A bowl cut…or pasta strainer cut…courtesy of Charlie. Thanks Chawles! The poor ole chap was here for almost a month and I’m pretty sure he is ready to make a book and subsequent horror film about his experience…it’s called Misery. He never knew how loud I could fart before he came to live with us.
Yesterday was our first day of the spring slam at the bike shop. Temps got into the mid 40s, so people started coming out of their holes.
We were flooded with repairs, and since I am one of two mechanics at the shop, I was real busy. People were out riding bikes!…and getting flats! Handled a few flat fixes and customers in between doing the tune-ups and part replacements that had already been scheduled. It felt like I was all over the place. Didn’t even have time to eat lunch, but it was exciting that people were actually coming into the shop.
Since our shop is in a neighborhood consisting of a lot of different immigrant communities, you really never know who is going to pop in and what language you will be trying to navigate around in an attempt to explain the repair. There is an African (don’t know what country) man that sometimes comes in, and we don’t understand each other at all. I end up having to point at things and say “bad.”
Up until this point the winter had been really slow, and I just get to stay back in the dungeon listening to NPR and fixing bikes. I have a hunch that is going to change very quickly in the next couple of weeks.
Our adorable next door neighbors are having an Oscar party right now. I haven’t seen Jared in about 45 minutes. I suspect that he got sucked into the gay boy vortex while he was enjoying his evening cigarette and is over their drinking vodka crans. AVATAR FTW!
My style is UFO
Totally unknown
You can’t fuck with my new zef flow
I’m hard to miss
“You can’t do this, you can’t do that”
Yeah, fuckin’ who said so?…..Yo, I’M A NINJA!!!
The young whippersnapper turns a whopping 24 today! I threw him a dinosaur and Catwoman themed (found a bunch of dusty vintage party stuff that had been sitting in an Indian dollar store since the early 90s) birthday party at 12 o’clock last night.
-L
Update:
You may recall that last year we celebrated this most important day drinking wine and eating cheese and crackers under a bridge outside of Gail, Texas:
Those were the days.
Lauren compensated for my lack of friends by throwing me a party and getting me lots of presents. In addition to the catwoman-themed party she presented me with a record player, a bottle of sparklin’ juice, and some vintage bike patches, compact headset wrenches and a belt buckle from her bike shop (which has plenty of weird stuff that hasn’t moved in 30 years)
What a pal of a gal.
Today was monumental for us. Remember a while back I said one of the reasons I wanted to stop bike touring was because Jared’s teef are rotten and about to fall out of his head? Well, Jared finally went to the dentist!
The verdict is that he will need: 11 fillings + 2 wisdom teeth excised + a crown + possible root canal= lots of dental bills in our future…like up to $4,000 worth. Jared spent years putting all of this off and now he’s going to have to pay for all of it at once.
It sounds absurd, but he is literally thinking about flying to San Diego and then taking a bus to Tijuana to get the dental work done. It is cheaper there because they use tequila for anesthetics.
This situation is a slightly desperate, and if yall have any better ideas or have personal experience getting dental care in Mexico we would certainly appreciate your input.
Or at least it seemed that I spent nearly as much time going to and from the shitter as I spent out on the course at 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo. I settled into a pattern during the race of completing a lap, eating a fuck ton, and then passing out in my tent for an hour. Well, after my 3rd lap nap I woke up to the in a sweat to the sun rising and a massive incoming turd on the way. In a panic, I considered pulling the old crap in a plastic bag trick reminiscent of our days in the apocalyptic junkyard, but I fought the urge, threw my jacket on and broke into a dead sprint for the bathroom. By lap 4 I finally had this pattern figured out, but the race was over.
Getting way ahead of myself here. On the way out to the race, I had to lug all my stuff over to Ordinary Bike Shop (my old workplace) to meet Tang. Since I was determined to camp like a Moroccan sultan, I had to make two runs, one of which required Erik’s assistance to get all my crap over there. Here is a good opportunity to show you E’s beautiful imported Dutch utility bike complete with chainguard, internally geared hub, and generator lights.
I met up with Tang at Ordinary and we loaded up his truck.
The plan was that Tang and I would find a spot and he would drop me off. Then I would guard the Ordinary keg at the campsite for the night until the rest of the crew showed up the next day.
We found the perfect camp spot. Then set up shop.
…and the festivities began.
Actually, I didn’t really booze too much. I went to bed early as there wasn’t too much going on yet and I was freezing. During the night there were a lot of coyotes howling and it reminded me of being on bike tour in the desert.
The next morning, I met up with my team El Grupo at our camp site.
We rode the course. I hadn’t been on a mountain bike since the last 24 Hour Race in 2008. Last time I raced, I was on a rigid single speed with a carbon fiber fork. I got the little single speed on the cheap from my friend Nickel, and it was the only thing I had to ride. Man was that thing so light and so painful. Everybody was telling me I was a badass for riding it and I finally figured out why. By the end my arm, back…everything hurt like hell.
This time It actually felt great to get out there again even though I wasn’t quite in the cardiovascular shape that I was in being able to train in Tucson. I was riding a squishy bike with full suspension. Geez what a difference. It was like floating on a cloud. Don’t get me wrong, the course still wooped me and tossed me around a bit, but I was glad that the bike was absorbing a little of the shock for me. I guess a rigid mtb isn’t the ideal choice for someone with a metal rod in their back.
Here is El Grupo coach Nacho showin us how it’s done.
Back at the ranch, it was feedin’ time. The whole weekend was an eating extravaganza for me. There was literally a trough of food available 24-7. I could get used to this lifestyle. Ride mountain bike really hard all day + eat everything you can + sleep, repeat.
The feeding trough…where the magic happens.
I migrated my sultan’s lair over to the El Grupo campsite after the Ordinary guys showed up. After another night of sleep amongst the coyotes, a terrible bagpipe player, and a random guy on hallucinogens shouting obscenities and encouraging people to eat pot brownies and get naked on top of a rock, it was finally time for the race to begin.
So yeah it’s a 24 hour race and I was on a 5 person team which was the El Grupo “Coaches” team. Each lap is 17 miles. The lap starts off with “the Bitches,” which is a dirt road with seven steep climbs that send you screaming down the back. Once, the Bitches are over, it’s a lot of flowie desert single track through cholla fields. Then the course starts to kick again and there is more climbing towards the end. The very end gets a bit more technical but is really fast and fun. Then you end up in the timing tent and pass the baton to your teammate.
Not gonna lie. I was shakin in my boots a little bit on the morning of the race. First off, for some insane reason I was chosen as the lead off person who would do the run.
Secondly, there was the whole out of shape factor, but I decided to just go with it and try my best. It was awesome to just be out there with the kids. They crack me up. So great.
I wore myself out a little on the run, but I tried my best to keep it together on the first lap. It was a total clusterfuck with lots of bottlenecks and people everywhere. I did crash hard once on the first lap, but given my track record that is pretty standard. It felt extremely long….like I didn’t remember the course being nearly that long before. I couldn’t catch my breath the whole time and was starting to wonder if I would make it through a few more laps. My lower back hurt a lot too because I was carrying a Camelback, which I decided was definitely getting ditched for the next lap.
My second lap was at night and went off much more smoothly. I actually really enjoyed it. Unfortunately, I don’t really have any more photo, but here is a video shot at the race. The footage is mostly just the last 200 meters of the course, so it’s not quite indicative of how the laps feel. The night laps are pretty quiet. You hear javelinas and coyotes. It’s awesome and a little bit creepy at the same time.
My third was at 3 in the morning. I dreaded getting up for it and going out in the cold. The lap went smoothly until my light died on the technical section towards the end of the course. I waited until someone approached and hoped that it would be a nice person who was not a pro trying to turn in a fast lap. Luckily, that’s exactly who showed up and he let me follow behind him and share his light until the end of the lap.
My fourth lap finished off the race for our team. It was my fastest one and felt great. I was dressed in the top that I wore at the Sparkle Motion party, and the lady at the finish referred to me as Lady Gaga. Just when I felt like I finally had a handle on the course the race was over.
Two of our teams podiumed. Unfortunately, the girl on our fastest team took a bad spill on one of the Seven Bitches and had to be airlifted out. She is healing now and luckily didn’t break any bones.
When the weekend was over, I didn’t want to leave. I felt like I could stay out in the desert with my tent and the feeding trough and a mountain bike. Now I really want to go back to Tucson and help coach the kids teams. Jared has other ideas.
After we got back to Tucson, we ate a bunch of pizza and drank dark beer. I slept for somewhere around 17 hours the day after the race, which is why E says I win the sleep contest. The end.
I’ve been having serious Tucson withdrawals for the past 2 weeks. It was too much fun to end so soon and have to come back to this gloomy metropolis. Do you want to hear about the 24 Hour race? Well, sorry that is tomorrow’s post, but I will tell you about all the things I did to prepare for it.
My preparation for the 24 Hour mountain bike race consisted of extensive drinking and one day of hiking. I established my training base out of Erik’s living room. Luckily, he is very supportive of my racing and helped facilitate the drinking and hiking necessary to prepare me for the race. He stocked his house with expensive scotch in anticipation of my arrival in Tucson. Though I hadn’t ridden a mountain bike in 2 years, I was not worried one bit.
On the first night of training, I dragged Erik and Mickey to my friend Jo’s Sparkle Motion birthday party. I think these dimly lit, hyper saturated photos speak for themselves:
Some of the attendees were obviously not committed to Sparkle Motion…ahem Mickey, E.
The next day, I dragged Erik on a mountain hike.
There were agave plants all over the hills during our hike. Erik explained to me that the agave plant saves up it’s whole life to shoot up that enormous boner of a stem so that it can flower and die. See people? Sex=death.
Erik! Watch out for the frickin laser beams!
I also got to go into an abandoned mine that we hiked off the trail to reach.
What a great day of hiking despite my wretched hangover!
Actually, I did go on a few road rides before the race. My friend Ignacio, who coaches the youth cycling team that I used to ride with, lent me a Dave Scott Centurion that he calls the ham and cheese bike.
Nothing like Gate’s Pass to kick your ass, demoralize you, and let you gauge how out of shape you’ve become.
Then something amazing happened. I spotted the legendary “Gray Wolf.” He went by in a flash with his doo-rag flapping in the wind. I pulled out my camera just in time to snap a blurry photo of the lone wolf in the wild that is Tucson’s 4th Ave.
The man is truly an inspiration to cyclists everywhere. “You kids out there, don’t worry about safety. Everyday just go as hard as you can. Look as good as you can….just do some attack riding. Attack the pack. Don’t hold back.”
The spirit of the wolf entered me, and I knew the sighting was a sign from the gods that I’d be just fine in the 24.
Well, before I complete my tale of the Tucson adventure, I would like to inform all 5 of you that I am sick. Sicker than I’ve been all year, in fact. It started creeping up on me the last day that I was in Tucson, and by the time I got on the airplane I felt like complete ass. I’m gonna speculate that racing 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo and then following that up with 3 days of drinking booze rather than water is probably what led to this point. Add to that the presence of the Gem Germ Show in Tucson, which according to my Tucsonan friend Janet brings viruses from the darkest recesses and crevices of the earth together for 2 weeks each year in Tucson + the plane ride (we all know airplanes are germ smorgasbords packed into a vaccuum sealed tube with recycled air) = one very very sick Lauren.
I was supposed to return to work the day after I returned. I didn’t call them at all that day. Too sick. Plus I figured I could buy myself an extra day by confusing them. When was she supposed to be back again? I called them yesterday and said I was ill and would not be coming to work. They were quite alright with that. I guess when you are paying someone $2.50/ hour you can afford to be nice. I called again today and said the same thing. They were very understanding, and even said that since Tuesday and Wednesday are usually my days off, I could just wait until next Thursday to come back when I am fully recovered. Woohoo!!!…Sheesh, I coulda spent an extra week in Tucson! I need to plan my sicknesses better.
Upon my return to the homefront, Jared and Charlie had completely transformed our place into a dude haven. There was a large packet of sausages in the fridge, 2 big bottles of liquor in the freezer, the toilet seat was up, and there were about 6 bikes in living room. I inquired about what they’d been doing while I was away. It soon became very apparent that they’d been spending about 90% of their time on the internet. I am glad to see that Jared took the time to show Charlie all the wonderful things he’s discovered in Chicago. Geez. Poor Charlie. Whenever Jared and I argue about where to move, it’s pretty easy for me to remind him that it doesn’t matter where we go because he spends his entire day on the computer. Nevertheless, I enjoy the interwebs as well, and the boys were quick to turn me onto the latest and greatest memes that I’d missed while having fun outside in the desert.
Here is something that went viral on YouTube while I was away. It is a South African rap group called Die Antwoord that features rats, underwear, a mute DJ, and a guy with Progeria Disease. If you ever wondered what hipsters from South Africa are like I think this will answer some questions for you. I’ve been kinda obsessed with these videos for the past three days. The boys are getting tired of hearing the infectious beats. Enjoy:
If you are confused and amused, Die Antwoord have succeeded. For the most part I was really befuddled about the authenticity factor. Thinking to myself, these people are pseudo-white trash, but the cinematography is top notch. That swinging nutsack closeup is the stuff dreams are made of. Furthermore, what’s up with this vernacular they have going on here? I thought white South Africans sound like English people. Did I miss something?
That song title translates to “Your Mother’s Cunt in a Fish Paste Jar.” Lovely, eh?
After doing some research I learned that they are being compared to Da Ali G of South Africa. So it’s somewhat of an elaborate joke, and their haircuts, attire, and behavior is all part of it, right? Sorta. There is still something pretty interesting about what they are doing even if it is somewhat contrived, and that seems to be the consensus among music critics as well. Plus, how can I dis on anybody with an affinity for rats? Did anyone catch the Ratso cameo at 3:30 in “Enter the Ninja?”
These South African hipsters are a refreshing bunch compared to the American lot. I can’t wait until they tour here. Dat shits gone fokken viral all ova da intawebs yo!
As most of you know, I spent the past two weeks basking in the glorious Tucson sun compliments of Erik R (whose name is now being abbreviated to protect his upright standing in society). Not only did Erik fly me out, he permitted my hobo camp to commandeer his living room for 2 weeks. Good times were had. Friendships were reunited. Bikes were ridden. The desert was explored. Mexican food was consumed. Expensive scotch was imbibed. The 24 Hour MTB race was conquered. The trip went about as well as it could, which meant that in the end I did not want to leave.
It was snowing the morning I left Chicago. I dragged my ass out of bed at 6 a.m. and headed to the train station. Jared insisted on getting up at 6:15 to accompany me, which was the most selfless, kindhearted gesture I’ve ever seen outta him. I think his underlying motives were selfish. It was clearly a last ditch effort to ensure that I actually returned from the beautiful Sonoran desert…
The CTA lady who saw us kiss goodbye and even told Jared he could help me bring the suitcase up to the platform for me. AAAaaaaw!
After a two hour train ride and lugging my 50lb suitcase through O’Hare, I was finally en route to the warmest place in the country. Life was about to get awesome really quick.
Touchdown. 70 and sunny. Time to take off the parka. Somebody get me to a taco truck stat. Luckily, Mickey swooped in and saved the day in his undersized sports car.
Mickey dropped me off in downtown T-town, and I wandered around until E was finished up in court. Stopped by my old casita:
Noticed some unearthed trolley tracks and a new bike path behind where I used to live.
Erik and I ran into Wes and hopped on the pedicab.
Saw some crusties with puppies (My visit coincided with the infamous Gem Show, which brings crusties and hippies from all over the planet together to do drugs, spread germs and STDs, trade rocks, steal things from townies, beg for money, and drag their dehydrated puppies around town.)
Saw some old people on Segways (Again, my visit coincided with the infamous Gem Show, which also draws in new age hippies from all over the planet who are into the “healing powers” of crystals, spending money on rocks, driving dangerously slow up Gate’s Pass, and pretending to be Indiana Jones.)
Here are some tents full of rocks. You see this type of shit scattered everywhere around town during the Gem Show.
Stopped by Ed’s shop and said hello to his new friend Sprocket and my old friend Ratso. You guys remember that I left Ratso with Ed before I rode away from Tucson. I can’t believe how big Ratso is now!
It was wonderful to see all the familiar faces of Tucson again. It was more social interaction than I’ve had in a very long time….and that was just the first day. Wait until you hear about the Sparkle Party, the desert expedition, and the 24 Hour race. But something fishy was going on…..
It didn’t take long for the conspiracy to be revealed: Erik R. had plotted with Mickey to fly me out to Tucson in the dead of Chicago winter in order to try to get me to come back to the desert. I have to hand it to them. I walked right into their trap. By the end of my stay, I was already trying to talk Jared into moving back to the desert with me. Now I have to live with the consequences…I am sitting here miserable in Chicago wishing I was still in the desert.
Since I am now a Pro web DEVELOPER and wear the financial pants in this cloudy and cold relationship with Lar, I decided to dye my hair with grey and dirty white highlights ($30 dollars US). I also bought some vintage Vionishe Raybans circa 1972 ($25 dollars US.) Then I finished it all off with a quick buzz of the face and a mustache trim. Next I headed downtown for a brief business meeting at the Willis Tower (aka the Sears Tower). I met with a stunning young brunette named Natasha, she bought me Japanese cuisine, and we talked about web concepts for over an hour. We concluded that my talent is unmatched and she coerced me into signing a two year contract @ an estimated $75,000 a year. I now work for Philip Morris USA, and although I am unhappy about the past history of my employer, I am proud to be onboard!
A few months ago, when we first moved to this cruel cold city, I noticed this bike locked up outside of the local Target.
Wow cool! 1st generation FS butted aluminum MTB w/ Florescent orange swing arm, early 90’s Deore XT and Mavic rims w/ 1.9 slicks. Something you don’t see everyday….
I few weeks later I found myself at Target again…attracted by it’s low low prices and close proximity to our place. It was still there. Hadn’t moved a hair. Tires flat. It was abandoned. Preserved from parts-cannibalism and oxidation as it was in a relatively dry and secure in the Target parking garage.
I inquired at customer service on how I could get permission to get it. They took a description and filed it in lost and found. If it was there in 30 days I could legitimately take it.
Over the next month I also noticed a stagnant 56cm Specialized Sirius (a touring bike!!) from about 07′ in front of another store and put in a similar request for it.
I also knew about this nearby rusty 1st generation 54cm Raleigh Technium that hadn’t moved since we got here.
A week before the 30 days was up I verified the Trek was still there and ordered a portable 10.8v Dremel $70, keyless chuck $10 and, most importantly, the Dremel bike thief attachment $13.
Without Lauren (she’s off gallivanting in the Tucson desert right now) to stop me, The first bike I snatched was the Specialized, which at that point was missing it’s front wheel. It’s Kryptonite “Kryptolock Series 2″ U-lock lasted about 90 seconds. No passers by seemed to notice or care about the sparks or buzz.
The second was the Raleigh. I talked to the owner of the shop, but he didn’t really want to get involved or give me permission. The front wheel was now bent to shit either by a car or a drunk. The SR Laperade seatpost, Sugino stem and cranks, and a mid-level Suntour αr group still made it worth taking. My sweet new Dremel would quickly polish all that powdery white Aluminum back to a mirror like finish.
The Technium was locked with a “On Guard” U-lock which was a much bigger pain in the ass to get through than the Kryptonite…but it was still off in under 3 minutes.
Then there was still the Trek, which started this thieving spree in the first place.
After about 15 minutes of waiting for Target to figure out how to handle the situation, I was escorted and supervised by an armed security guard. It was locked with a generic cable like this one, which was cut in under 10 seconds.
Upon hearing about my stealing 3 bikes in one day and how cool I am, the mayor of Chicago declared me the #1 bike thief in Chicago for 2/2/10 and gave me the keys to the city.
However, I declined this generous gift…because I don’t need keys anymore.
I guess my protest yesterday actually made an impact on my boss because today at work he said that I would be able to stay working in the dungeon and don’t have to do sales during the summer. He said I am doing a good job with zee bikes. I guess sometimes it pays to be a whiny little brat. YEEEEES!!!!!
Project bike thief is now fully underway, as Jared just got his new battery powered Dremel in the mail. Jared has been scoping out abandoned bikes for months and begun talking to business owners about stealing the bikes.
In other news, yesterday was my first attempt at two Bikram classes in one day. I got up, went straight to class, then went to work, then went back to class. Surprisingly, the second class was actually much easier than the first class and I did really well. It was hard to get out of bed this morning. My muscles are sore as hell, which is an awesome feeling. Mickey was joking that I probably had to drink 2 liters of Vitamin water, which is almost correct as I did drink 4 coconut waters throughout the day in addition to a crapload of cranberry juice.
Today is my last day of work for a while as I am LEAVING FOR TUCSON tomorrow morning! SO exciting. I hope to make it to the Tuesday Night Community Bike Ride tomorrow night. I can’t wait to see everyone. Thanks again Erik Ryberg and the mysterious donors who chipped in to fly me out there. There are a lot more worthy causes for your money than sending my broke ass on vacation and curing my Chicago winter blues, but damn am I glad I have some good friends there!
Our friend Charlie Wecker is flying in tonight from Florida for a visit and he is staying for the month of February. What a trooper to come during the worst time of the year to be in Chicago! He doesn’t know what he’s in for. Then again, he does live in Florida and you couldn’t pay me to go back there. He is going to console Jared as he will surely be very lonely and grieving without me. Actually, they will probably just get drunk the entire time. I am a total lightweight now, so it is probably better that I am not here for that mess. If I were here, I would probably pee the bed.
Charlie posted this on FB the other day, and the song has been on repeat in our household and our heads ever since. Remember this one? The front man of Baltimora is lipsynching to the keyboardist’s vocals in the video, and he died of AIDS in 1995. Allow me to infect you with it:
Happy Monday, and to my Tucsonan friends, see you tomorrow!
25 years of my life and still
I’m trying to get up that great big hill of hope
For a destination.
I realized quickly when I knew I should
That the world was made for this
Brotherhood of man
or whatever that means
Actually, shit I’m even older than that…but the song is resonating with me right now in several ways. I had a bad day at work. For one thing, my boss got on my ass for taking a few minutes longer on a tuneup that required some extra stuff like swapping out the handlebars, seat, and pedals. I was already having a rough time because I was a little hungover from attending a birthday part last night. Then, he said some to the effect of, “Well, in the summer we are gonna have you out on the sales floor more.”
THAT struck the wrong chord with me. I expressed my extreme discontent, “I don’t like selling shit to people. I spent years selling shit to people. I’m here because I want to be a mechanic. I am willing to help out sometimes when customers come in, but I am NOT going to be relegated to the sales floor.”
If the shop wants to keep me, they would be smart to lock me away in the mechanic’s dungeon instead of trying to get me to sling shit in the front. I can, and will leave if the job isn’t what I expect it to be. It sorta feels empowering to know that at any second, I could just walk out and it would actually make my life a whole lot less complicated than it is right now. But, I told the shop that I would work for them for the duration of the “season.” I am expected to stay here through the summer, which means that Jared and I might not be spending our summers in the same city. Apparently Jared is moving to Portland without me after our current lease ends on May 1st.
If I were to leave early, I wouldn’t be able to use this shop as a reference for future employment. Furthermore, I have a lot to learn, and I think that being in the shop all summer will really help bolster my knowledge, skills, and ability to get shit done quickly. It will probably make it a lot easier to move to Portland with the confidence of knowing that I can get a job there. Obviously we are in disagreement over this issue.
Jared thinks that the shop is a shitty place for me to be and doesn’t understand why I would pledge any sort of loyalty to these people who currently pay me $2.50/hour (which is supposed to increase significantly in March thank god!). But I like the shop. I get to spend all day fixing bikes and listening to NPR. It’s not a bad gig, and when I actually get paid it’s going to be a pretty good gig.
Not much time to post today as I am off to work soon. Workin on restoring a Raleigh 3 speed right now as well as this puppy (a Monark from the 50s), which is currently in rust-bucket condition. It has a New Departure coaster brake hub, which I took apart the other day. Pretty sweet when it’s all glammed up, but I know I’ll never get it to what it once was:
My mommy is getting her first TT bike. Initially I sorta tried to discourage her from such an outrageous purchase, but now I am all for it. She wants to get aero and win and all that. She deserves it as she rides a hell of a lot more than I do, and she has done her part to help a lot of other ladies get into cycling. I guess her LBS is giving her a super good deal on this one:
You guys seen this blog? It’s written by the wife of a British dude who says ridiculous things in his sleep. I decided that regardless of whether or not they are making this shit up, it’s still worth reading. Effing hilarious. If it is real, this guy has one hell of a subconscious. Here are some of my favorite sleep talking utterances:
“I want to be a cowboy. I don’t want to be a panda. Pandas are boring, stupid and boring. Bad panda!”
“Jump. You can jump with goats. Boy does he jump high. They jump really high.”
“I’d like to tell you what a wonderful person you are. But that would make me a septic gash of a cunt who quite frankly had no concept of right or wrong.”
“Don’t leave the duck there. It’s totally irresponsible. Put it on the swing, it’ll have much more fun.”
“Well if I’m the douchebag, you’re the contents, Titfuck!”
“Look at the size of your bath. I can pee in it and you’d never notice.”
“I’ve got a badger, a dog, a cat, and a sack. Now that I’ve got ‘em you can fuck off. All mine.”
“So this is what it feels like to be a gummy bear… I can’t walk though, I have to rock… I think i’ll call myself BerNARD. Not BERnard. BerNARD. And I’ll be a golden gummy bear.”
I’m off to work on some rust buckets by rubbing aluminum foil on the rims: Polishing steel
“A simple and inexpensive way to remove rust from and polish steel surfaces by hand is to rub it with aluminium foil dipped in water. The aluminium foil is softer than steel, and will not scratch the surface. As heat is generated by rubbing friction, the aluminium will oxidize to produce aluminium oxide. Aluminium has a higher reduction potential than iron, and will therefore leach oxygen atoms away from any rust on the steel surface. Aluminium oxide is harder than steel, and the microscopic grains of aluminium oxide produced creates a fine metal polishing compound that smoothes the steel surface to a bright shine.”
I told you I’m a Ninja Turtle! Last night, Jared and I rode South on the lakefront path during a snowstorm. Jared convinced me to do this because he had to ride down to Lakeview to meet a client and get a check. He lured me in with the prospect of pizza. I’d already been out riding in the snow to and from volunteering at the bike collective, so I was hesitant. But I couldn’t turn down pizza.
It was about a 12 mile ride roundtrip. On the way, my feet turned to icicles. Turns out it’s a really bad idea to wear Vans when you are tromping through the snow. I think tromping it a good word for what we were doing. We certainly weren’t riding very fast. Sometimes you spin out when your wheels don’t get traction in the snow. A few times I just went off the side of the path without knowing it.
After the 8 mile tromp to the pizza place, we devoured a delicious stuffed pizza and still had leftovers. That shit is filling! We decided to take the much more direct route back home on the salty roads. My hands were freezing and my stomach was so overflowing with pizza it was hard to pedal. I coasted a lot and lollygagged and tried drafting behind Jared on the way back.
We got home brought our trusty steeds inside the house. Within a few minutes, it looked like our bikes had taken a crap on the kitchen floor. There was melted snow and gross black shit from the road everywhere. Then we got high and watched Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, and there was pizza raining from the sky. The end.
This guy did it all. Won a gold medal. Was head professor of Vet School at Ohio State. Invented a surgical instrument (the Snook Hook, which was named after him), murdered his mistress, and got zapped in the electric chair. Snook:
nicknamed “the human jukebox” and “Blind Snooks Eaglin”…this guy could jam) Snooks:
Guidette who was punched in the face on popular TV show. Snooki:
WIABIS has posted before on how much we love Japan. We are too poor to go to Japan anytime in the near future, but there is lots of Japan in movies, on the internetz and on the YouTubez. We just finished watching Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away. Have you seen ‘em? I highly recommend these animated films by Hayao Miyazaki. They are really really amazing!
My recent discovery on YouTube happened by accident while I was searching for Karen Carpenter. I really like watching videos from the 70s of Karen Carpenter performing on YouTube for some reason (don’t ask). I like watching ABBA a lot too, but we won’t get into that. Well, I clicked on a video expecting Karen and heard her exact same voice coming out of the mouth of a beautiful Japanese woman. Everyone knows that the Japanese are fond of karaoke, so it seems fitting that Japan has produced some downright convincing imitations of American pop stars. Here are a few videos of Japanese impersonators that I found that blew my mind:
Karen Carpenter:
In this one, Richard Carpenter even showed up to play piano. This lady must be a pretty high caliber impersonator if she’s got Richard showing up to her gigs.
Okay, so it’s blatantly racist and pretty terrible that they are in blackface, but the impersonations here are surprising for people who aren’t even singing in their native tongue.
Louis Armstrong:
Stevie Wonder:
Frank Sinatra:
If you haven’t noticed yet, our transformation from homeless bicycle tourists to yuppies is nearly complete. I am afraid we have gone too far and there is no turning back now. Our lives aren’t very interesting anymore, so I have to look beyond my own life for blog fodder and entertainment. We are, however, still pretty broke, so I certainly can’t go out on the town and pay for this entertainment. No, I have to get it for free from Karen Carpenter on YouTube. Thanks Karen!
As of tonight, we will no longer have to inflate our bed before going to sleep. Or should I say I will no longer have to inflate our bed, as Jared always forced me to do the blowjob every night. Our trusty air mattress hath served us well up until this point, but I am ecstatic to say that we are now the proud owners of a real live mattress. It has springs, fabric, and all the bells and whistles.
We have been perusing Craigslist waiting for the right opportunity. We needed something cheap and within walking distance. Today we finally scored. We found a mattress that was located about 3/4 mile from our apartment for $50. Not bad.
The Great Mattress Migration of 2010 happened around 6 p.m. and the chosen route was down a busy street. There was bickering, complaining, and backwards walking, but we managed to complete the trek without too many complications. About 25 feet from the apartment, Jared decided to drop his half on the ground and take a rest before we lifted it over the back gate. The mattress was soiled in the process and I gave him hell about it.
Though our hands and arms were slightly numb afterward, we knew that the arduous journey was well worth the effort. It is going to make our lives better. Never thought I would derive so much joy from what seems like pretty basic living commodity, but I guess reality is a mattress of individual perception. After sleeping on the ground for a year, a mattress is something I’m not taking for granted.
Speaking of matters, mattresses, masters, reality, and perception, here is Black Sabbath playing in front of a rainbow and Ozzy dressed up in a purple fringe suit:
The bike shop sent me and my coworker to the Park Tools Tech Summit. The event was held at the Westin and featured a bunch of technical seminars on different bicycle products. Basically, it was me and about 400 white dudes from all over the South/Midwest together in some hotel rooms. Who signed me up for a gang bang?
The event was two days long and I had to wake up at 6 a.m. to get picked up by my pimp and driven to the hotel. Each day of the event consisted of three seminars, which were each three hours long. I was surprised at how draining the whole experience was. I typically wake up around 9 or 10. I thwarted my exhaustion by consuming copious amounts of coffee, which only lead to me crashing at the end of the whole deal. I slept for about 14 hours the night after it was all over. I guess a gang bang will do that to you.
I went to these 6 Classes: Mavic, Hayes/Manitou, Shimano, Campagnolo, Park Tools, and Rock Shox. I got schooled on all sorts of stuff that I will all most certainly never encounter at the shop where I work: how to bleed disc brakes, how to service shocks, what the inside of an STI/ Campy shifter looks like, etc. My two favorite classes were Campagnolo and the Park Tools.
Here’s a photo from the Park Tools seminar:
Me and the Campy guy:
Me and the Campy guys and Hayes guy:
Oh yeah, the funniest part of the whole thing was that during the Mavic class, I almost annihilated one of their axles. I was trying to bang the bearing cartridge out of the rim with a mallet. Well, it turns out I was hammering the axle instead of the little stick that they wanted me to bang on. Woops!
The grand finale was the Rock Shox class, where the guy in my group pulled apart the piston from the shock and it ejaculated mineral oil upward and hit the ceiling and splattered all over three of us. Some of it even landed in my eye and I had to go to the bathroom for an emergency eyewash. Guess that was the money shot. It was pretty hilarious and the whole class was laughing.
Next time I get sent to a gang bang, I am definitely going to be more prepared.
As the few, the proud who still read this raggedy blog might already know, I am soon flying to Tucson. No, I’m not flying out there for winter training with my team.
Erik Ryberg, my former employer and the closest thing bicyclists have to Jesus is flying me out there to compete against Mickey in the 2010 Tetris Championships. I am really looking forward to spending all my time in doors glued to his big screen TV. Ok, so I might ride zee bikes a little while I’m in there too. Actually, I am trying to convince Erik that we really need to go on a desert expedition. There is also a chance that I might even ride in the 24 Hour mountain bike race with the kids team that I used to ride with. I am very very excited to go to Tucson. I am counting down the days (17 left), and singing this song:
But not to be outdone by Erik, our most cherished reader Dave the Wave recently surprised us with an all expenses paid trip to the majestic Dildo Island. I guess he recognized that we never fully realized our aspirations of making it to Newfoundland on bicycles.
Now, you might say to yourselves that right now is surely a terrible time of the year to visit Labrador. I mean, it is literally covered in ice and snow. However, we couldn’t have been happier to have the entire Dildo all to ourselves. Dildo really took our breath away.
People don’t realize that ice and snow in such mass quantities can create another world on the surface of the land. We a blast on playing around in the ice mounds of Dildo.
Honestly, we never wanted to leave. We knew if we could hang on to Dildo, we’d have everything we need. Maybe Dildo is what has been missing in our lives.
We spotted some of the indigenous Dildoan dwellings…
They even had free ice skating!
On our way out, we encountered a lone wolf in the wild. What an amazing and rare opportunity we’d been granted. We truly felt the ancient spirit of Dildo enter us.
Dave, thank you so much for giving us the full-on Dildo experience! In the end, we were sad to let go of Dildo and return to Chicago, but we’ll always carry a piece of Dildo inside.
