Mugshot


Hey, remember when I got arrested?

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Before I forget

This morning I attended the United Church of Delicious Fucking Breakfast at the Uptown Diner in… uh… Uptown. Later I finally got a new lens cap for my digital SLR so I can start stuffing it into my bag again and taking more pictures. Paul will surely stop visiting my blog if there aren’t any pictures. : (

I made it back to Penn Cycle on Lyndale. They had gotten in the Giant OCR1 in size small for me to try. It was light and generally acceptable but somehow didn’t seem as fast as the Trek. Ooh, ratios, so I don’t forget: 12-26T and 30/42/52T. Compare that to the Trek 1000 with 12-26T and 30/42/52T. Wait a minute, why did the Trek feel faster? Hrm. That doesn’t make any damn sense. Maybe I didn’t actually get the rear into the top gear. Anyway, when I got back from my test ride (up the bike trail thing just north of Lake Street) Shawn was helping a couple other customers and took a phone call.

Of course, I randomly stopped into the Varsity bike shop in Dinkytown where I had gotten my blue nutbuster a few years ago. They had a Fuji Ace in 50cm in stock. It was reasonably comfortable, but the web site reveals an 8 speed rear end, which according to my limited internet research is a liability for upgradeability. I didn’t ride it for long, though, since I had forgotten my ID at Penn Cycle and had to head back before five. Ugh. It was way too hot to be driving in circles, but strangely, not to hot to be on a bicycle. I don’t get it either.

devMap output
Tonight I rolled out the new google maps powered developer map and moved bharat’s dot to NYC. Only three weeks until my dot is there too.

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If I were any more naked I’d be impossible

Anyone who is confused by my life raise your hand now.

In Minnesota the saying is to dress in layers. Well, I made a phone call and then took off some layers. I took off some more layers. I took off layers that I wasn’t even wearing, but still heat pressed down on me with a giant monkey hand, pressing me into a sleep full of very strange dreams, almost like hallucinations. According to my window thermometer it is 78 degrees outside and 86 in my room. Ugh.

Depending on your imagination, I may or may not be wearing any pants right now. I suggest that you decide which state is more appealing and only imagine that one. If that state is the state of pantslessness, maybe we should talk.

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Babysitting update

When Lisa and Stan left, Noah started crying very hard and then crawled into my arms. I hadn’t held him like that since he was just a few months old and we would take naps together. Eventually he stopped crying, mostly because I outlined my four point plan for the evening:

  1. Pizza
  2. Park
  3. Movie
  4. Bed… and Mom and Dad would come home

It turned out to take too long to make the pizza, so we didn’t go swim at the park, even though it was the kind of day that commands a person to go lie down in chlorinated water while three year olds splash you. How is that not an hour of heaven?

We did go to the park, but I had to carry Noah up the hill. He was being extra cute as we passed a house where five women were seated around a patio table drinking. I sensed their heads swiveling to face me even though all I could see were shadows. A light flashed, which was either a picture being taken of Noah and I, or the sound and fury of five women simultaneously ovulating.

Ladies, please. Last night I went to a trashy movie by myself at 10:30 at night with macaroni and cheese on the shirt that I had worn to sleep the night before. Well, it was just the cheese, but whatever.

Later, as we were walking back down the hill, Noah wanted to run, but tripped, tumbled, and bumped his head a little. Immediate, giant tears poured out of his eyes and he wanted to be held right away so he could scream closer to my ear. I settled him down again and we sniffled our way down the hill. Again the invisible eyes tracked us, and I distinctly heard an “aww” as the last glow of twilight glinted in a tear rolling down Noah’s cheek.

If I ever become completely evil I will just go ahead and use Noah to get dates. Oh yeah, my dad used to do that with me.

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Why don’t you go ahead and sweat some more?

Today I went back to the MInnehaha Hub to try out the Bianchi Volpe ($849.99) and Castro Valley ($799.99). They were all right, but the gear ratios in the rear were fucking RIDICULOUS. The Castro Valley seemed like a neutered Volpe, having just one 42 tooth chainring in the front instead of three (28/38/48T) on the Volpe. I honestly did not like the STI shifters a whole lot. Overall, still a contender, but only in Volpe form, since I can add fenders and a rack to it and have a much more comfortable bike. I wish that I could take five of the rear speeds out and throw them away. The lady who helped me first had a name that started with a C, but I didn’t write it down. I tried a 52 and a 49, and somehow they both seemed largish — I thought that there was supposed to be some space in between the frame and one’s nuts. Maybe the 49 was okay, and would be better without the sort of knobby tires. Shock mounted seat = silly.

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Since I’m already sweaty

Stan and I rode bicycles to Mill City Coffee (or whatever the hell it’s called these days) and back. I was towing Noah in the Burly. It’s only 2.6 miles each way, but it felt like 26. When we put the bikes back in the garage, I noticed that Noah had thrown the boat anchor out the back. I guess that explains the load grinding noise. Note to self: I hate flat handlebars.

Then, I mowed the lawn, which is always strangely relaxing. Tonight I babysit Noah so that Lisa and Stan can go out and pretend to not be grown ups for a while. I’m either 13 now or 43.

After some discussion with my financiers I think that I might still be able to get a bike, so I think that I will drive to some bike shops and get measured. Or, I could just go get that $50 mountain bike at Target and swear a lot when I ride. Nothin’ wrong with that. I enjoy swearing. It’s a fine art.

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I Don’t Want a Pickle

Gerg let me know that his bike still wasn’t running, so I did a little more research and sent him a list of things to check, including whether or not there was too much oil in his crankcase and if there was any additional oil in the airbox. The answer to both of those questions turned out to be “yes,” so our carburetor work was pretty much all for naught - except that his carb did get a nice cleaning. In any case, he drained a bunch of excess oil out of the bike and did something with the air filter, and the bike started and ran well enough for him to drive to Lodahl’s house.

I found this when I called him back after my double-header nap. Part one wasn’t very satisfying, but in the intermission I had delicious Annie’s mac and cheese, and it’s a lot easier to nap with a brick of cheese in one’s stomach. When I finally woke up again I stumbled upstairs to watch an episode of Monk before having a flash of inspiration that I could go see Wedding Crashers by myself, since that was about all for which my brain was up to speed. I laughed a lot, but I heart Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson. I thought that Vince’s monologue about dating at the start of the movie was worth the price of admission by itself, but there was plenty of out of control humor to go around.

Good night, y’all. I think it’s time to watch that other episode of Monk and slip into unconsciousness.

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Mix CDs

I already posted the red car playlist elsewhere, so I don’t need to repeat it. These are just mixes that I have actually burned. If you are awaiting a mix I am still germinating the seed of the list.

Songs For Moms

My mom is awesome, but sometimes she has a rough time of it. She likes this CD, which is sort of cool and weird.

The Flaming Lips Bad Days (aurally excited version)
Firewater Psychopharmacology
Descendents Everything Sucks
Built To Spill You Were Right
Rilo Kiley A Better Son-Daughter
Elliott Smith Memory Lane
Tegan And Sara Monday Monday Monday
Cat Power Cross Bones Style
Walt Mink brave beyond the call
Slim Cessna’s Auto Club Last Song About Satan
Micranots Mother’s Day (from an album called “Obelisk Movement,” which is sort of an inside joke.)

FUCK

I don’t know if this needs any explanation, but maybe this Say Anything quote will help:

Bitches, man.

Firewater Get Out of My Head
Walt Mink Love You Better
Archers Of Loaf You And Me
Cop Shoot Cop Hung Again
Soul Coughing How Many Cans?
Howlin’ Maggie Alcohol
Quasi Drunken Tears
Hot Hot Heat Bandages
Forget Cassettes Accismus
Cop Shoot Cop It Only Hurts When I Breathe
Descendents Enjoy

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Wait, what?

This morning Lisa commented that I looked a little lost. I would have said bewildered. I went on a non-date last night. My boss commented yesterday that every non-date is a date as soon as you screw up. Apparently I didn’t screw up, because it ended up being a date. She came to my house and hung out on the deck with me until the wee hours. She had worn her work clothes, so I loaned her a t-shirt, then a hoodie, then a blanket. Stars appeared and disappeared behind the leaves of the maple tree while clouds piled up overhead and drifted apart. It was like that.

I don’t know what to make of it all, and I’m fresh out of sass tonight — even after a dual stage nap.

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It could be worse

masthead

I could be this guy.

WOW. Why the fuck am I awake now?

Props to dooce.

Did I tell you about dooce? I should have, because she’s way funnier than I am.

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