You’re Supposed To Lean The Other Way

I forgot to mention that Cake Woman was ripping ass in the booth and aiming them at me. She’s so very classy!

The part that really makes me laugh is that the other night I let a loud one go for shits and giggles, and she turned to me and said earnestly:
“Whoa, you never fart!”

That statement was so ludicrous that it almost couldn’t be a joke. Have I been holding them that well? Well then, time to let loose and deflate my midsection. It will be nice to wear smaller pants.

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I Give You Three Months

I was having a crappy evening (at least I’m completely done with the semester) until Cake Woman decided that it would be good to go to the Flameburger. Her tall (and oftentimes hilarious) friend Dan was coming too, and Cake Woman said that I would be allowed to break the news that she and I were dating. Apparently we are dating. I found some pants and drove like a bat out of hell to get there.

I had suggested that I find the least appropriate way to let him know, and she had agreed, but I chickened out of my plan to kneel under the table amidst the grease and discarded french fries and orally service her. Instead I just sat on the same side of the table as her and announced that I wanted to sit with my lady. We were awfully cute (or just awful and cute) as we smiled and secretly held hands. I think that Cake Woman had been holding back some stories from Dan — now that I was no longer her secret shame she could reveal that she had related a terrible dream to me upon waking up — with me.

Dan mentioned that his Danly duties have been lightened since I acquired a phone that actually rings when Cake Woman calls. Cake Woman informed him that he should buy me a present for taking over his job. I just rolled my eyes and remembered the late night phone call from a couple of weeks ago where I tried to inform her that I wanted my life to be a Cake Woman-free zone, partly because I did not want to be the new Dan — not that I’m anywhere near tall enough. He’s like six foot twenty.

I had to struggle a bit to keep up with the mountains of inside jokes, and I heard a few things that I only wish that I could unhear, but Dan is good folks, so even though he smoked Camel filters the whole time I was glad to have chatted with him. He told tale of recently hanging out with a friend who fished a week’s worth of cookies out of a Holiday dumpster while passing the doughnuts by, because:
“Fuck doughnuts, man!”

Indeed. That’s how I paid for college this summer.

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It is snowing in my favorite way outside. Also, on my webpage, unless your browser is no fun. I hope you like snow.

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Cake Woman called at three am when she got off of work. I had fallen asleep in bed with the tv on. We talked for a long time and some of it was important. I really like her, I always have.

Now I want to draw octopi and robots.

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Just Go To Sleep

I’ve mentioned my complex arrangement for acquiring conscious thought in the morning, but I don’t usually talk about my process for sleeping. Basically it is like this:

  1. be awake
  2. start to feel tired
  3. go to bed

That’s fairly common methodology, except that I usually don’t get tired until two or three in the morning. Tomorrow I have a final at 8am. Fortunately for me, it is in Algorithms and Data Structures, which has been a cakewalk for me. The only thing that worries me is waking up on time. So, in addition to the usual warning sirens, vibrating attachments, lights and music, my cell is set to beep at me, Lisa will hopefully come upstairs to throw water on me. She promised that it wouldn’t be holy water this time, so maybe I won’t end up all burned again.

It’s time to curl up in bed with Family Guy and maybe the latest in the Robert Jordan series. If that doesn’t put me to sleep, I don’t know what will.

Okay, I know, a warm body next to me — that would help, but, uh, after a few hours the body would start to get cold and stiff. Gross. You can’t get a good night’s sleep while trying to spoon a corpse. You just can’t.

Believe me, I’ve tried.

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Giggety giggety.

Allll riiiiight.

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Best Blonde Joke Ever

Best Blonde Joke Ever

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What About the Cake?

Allusions have been made, but I’m waiting for some paperwork to go through before I say anything. Hell, Cake Woman and I haven’t even been on a real date — what am I saying? It’s like we’ve been dating for months, except that she routinely called me creepy and gross. Actually, I kind of miss that — she’s been eerily nice this week, almost as though she actually likes me.

For all those people who said that I was crazy for hanging out with her so much, this is not why I was hanging out with her. Amidst all the confusion of the last eight months Cake Woman and I had a bunch of really good times. Any new developments in our friendship are in a different area altogether. Change might fuck everything up, and then who would go to the museum or eat “hot dogs” from Superamerica and “burgers” from White Castle in one night with me? On the other hand, what new lady would let me hang out with Cake Woman?

“She made you a cake? Hell no. You are not going over there and getting drunk again.”

It’s kind of reassuring when Cake Woman threatens to get rid of me after a week. Business as usual.

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Tomorrow I Ride!

I rode to school Monday and Tuesday, but took Wednesday off to… study… and Thursday I got a ride because I was wrong about the time for my first final. I’m gonna hop on the Surly again tomorrow because I made that promise to myself to ride every day that the temperature is greater than or equal to ten degrees. So far the winter riding has been pretty okay. Snow and ice haven’t been much of a problem, and my Cross-Check has been very comfortable on the fatter tires (700x32c), especially since the rear is a little low. The drivetrain seems to even be quieter, but I really have to bring her in and give her a thorough cleaning. If you’re curious, I tend to stick to the 48 in front and somewhere in the 15-19 range in the rear. I’m running a slightly higher cadence through the snow, which is probably healthier. If I don’t stay on the gas the bike gets a little squirrely, but she loves to run.

I don’t know why I want another bike, but look at this! It’s so pretty!
06 san jose 02

On the other hand, I saw a black Surly on campus the other day. Mmmmm. Really, though, I’m starting to want taller gearing for the summer and maybe a… flat bar (the HORROR!) for winter. So… maybe I want a fixed gear for winter. I know! I know! It’s a cult! However, I could feel the road better and there would be less to go wrong (like the morning that my front derailleur froze up). I’m just saying that it would be interesting. For summer I would take taller gears and a bike fitting — maybe just panniers so I don’t have a backpack, but I’m just not comfortable dropping down in the handlebars unless I’m climbing. Then again, I’m all torso.

The real problem is what to wear while riding in the winter so I’m neither sweaty or freezing when I get to my destination. If the weather stays in the 20s then I would probably be fine with one of my light hoodies and a windbreaker. Windbreaking pants might not be a bad idea, either, plus winter shoes that won’t grow disgusting in the spray from my tires. Boot recommended one of those spandexy shirts under a wool shirt with a windbreaker, but the next thing you know I’d be packing a day’s worth of changes every day.

Anyway, I hope that it stays warm enough for me to ride — otherwise I will have to find some other form of daily exercise. I can’t believe that I just said those two words together: “daily exercise.”

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One down, three to go

I just finished the eagerly anticipated “Linear Algebra and Differential Equations” final. In one and a half hours I will be restraining myself from throttling Professor Voyles, who somehow found a way to make me hate computers and programming. Good job, jerk!

At the very least, I had a very relaxing day of studying, which was cut unfortunately short when I noticed that my Linear Suffering and Differential Despair final was at 1:30, not the normal class time of 3:30. Ugh. I barely had time to cram two slices of Snap! pizza into my mouth (near perfect crust!) into my mouth before Cake Woman drove me to school and threw me out of her moving car. This time I didn’t get any bruises.

So. Yeah.

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