Snails In Spandex

Goddamit! There are just too many idiots on the road! And I'm not referring to cars. The cars are the least of my problems. This nice weather brings with it a myriad of moronic cyclists and I want to punch every single one of them in their stupid faces. I can practically hear their imbecile thoughts as they look at the weather forecast and think to themselves, "Oooo, it's going to be sunny out so I better wriggle into my ridiculous spandex outfit and hop on a bike that will show everyone that I have far more money than intelligence and then I'm going to ignore every traffic law there is because I'm just that good."


No! You slow snail! You are not that good! You race me downhill with zero clearance, then speed up as you hear me gaining on you on flats and inclines, huffing and puffing and looking as if you're about to have a heart attack, but letting me pass you - hell, no! And it's going to get worse. I might have to move to the middle of nowhere.

Biking makes me so relaxed.

Two things are happening this weekend: I'm doing the Emerald City Bike Ride and I'm meeting my first person off Google+, so I guess I should say this to +Jessica Lucas - I'm not really this angry. And I promise you that I won't push anyone off their bikes. No matter how tempting.

Stealing Toilet Paper And A Tom Hardy Disappointment

I went to a Pampered Chef party last night with a friend. I didn't think I'd make it, but I'll get to that later. I got roped into this by my boss who said that she would only go if I went so I went and, of course, my boss is a no show but luckily my friend went with me.

I quickly realized that the Pampered Chef is 1: freaking expensive and 2: fucking retarded. I realized this when my friend leaned over and said "Oooh look this thing minces garlic and slices it!" My rebuttal was, "Ya, it's called a knife" Then my friend asked why I went to this in the first place and I said I really just wanted to hang out and get free wine and food.

Who needs a fucking brownie pan for individual slices?

The Pampered Chef catalog was teeming with crap that no one needs. For instance, an avocado knife? What's wrong with using just a regular butter knife? A thing that mashes ground beef, aka a spatula? Spice blends that I could make myself? I am convinced that women will buy literally anything at any price as long as it comes in pretty packaging and all their other female friends are doing it.


My friend said that the point of all these extra kitchen gadgets is to make cooking easier, but really it's overpriced stuff that you don't need. The only way that I would buy a $20 spatula would be if that spatula would buy the food, cook the meal and then have sex with me after the meal, wash the dishes and be sure to call me the next day.

The reason for my larger cloud of snarkiness than usual was due to bike troubles. Tom Hardy failed me again. I was less than two miles from home, midway up the 152nd Ave SE hill, when my rear gears just wouldn't shift. Each time I tried shifting to a lower gear, the chain shifted to a higher gear. Then the gears just stopped responding completely. The front gears worked fine.

So now I'm in the highest gear possible in a 15.7% hill. Great. So I got off my bike, walked it up to a flatter area to see if some momentum would fix the gear situation. It didn't. I got up on the sidewalk, flipped the bike on its head, then tried shifting like that. Still absolutely nothing. Well, I wasn't about to walk my bike home so I called hubby to pick me up and take me to a Volkswagen dealer - kidding. I just like saying that.

Hubby took me to Gerk's, my LBS, and I made it there 20 minutes prior to closing. This is where greasing your bike mechanic with a case of beer comes in handy. My bike mechanic saw me walk in, dropped what he was doing, and tended to my bike. Yeay!


What turned out to be the problem was inside the gear housing. One of the metal ends had come loose from the rubber tube so whatever grabs onto the wire to make shifting possible didn't have anything to grab onto. I dont' know if this makes any sense. Anyway, he fixed the problem, and Tom Hardy is back in action today.

Biking In Shorts!

I decided to brave the cold and pretend it's summer this morning. The problem with pretending it's summer when it's freezing fog, is that exposed body parts tend to get very cold. Pretend summer or not.

I rode Tom Hardy in this morning and man, how I've missed him. Channing is great too, but he's a beast of a bike and doesn't handle the same way as Tom. Tom is far more elegant and nimble but I have decided that he's a fair weather bike.

I still haven't thawed yet from my ride in but it's looking promising for my ride home. Turns out it's not pure lies that come from Nick the weatherman.


This weekend is the second organized ride of the year. Well, when I say ride, it's not so much a ride rather than an experience. Anything less than 50 miles is not a bike ride. I'll add a few miles to it by biking to the start line at the UW and I might just bike the south loop of Lake Washington post ride. If it's not raining - again.

About A Boy

You know how you have fantasies you can't share with your spouse for a multitude of reasons, so you put these neatly in a drawer, thinking that very drawer is closed for good.

And for a while you are perfectly content with that drawer being closed, because life is busy and rewarding in so many other ways.

But as time passes by and circumstances change, you can hear those fantasies starting to rattle around in a drawer you thought permanently closed. So you start wondering again. You start dreaming. You start wanting. Though as much as you find yourself wanting to explore these fantasies, you are unwilling to risk what you have built.

I met a boy. A boy that made me think of possibilities I thought weren't there anymore. A boy that's got me dreaming again and has awakened the butterflies who are currently dancing around like mad.

It's nice knowing that I can still feel this way, but whether or not I'll act on it isn't decided yet. For now it remains a tempting mirage.

Anyways, that's what's on my mind today.

Tour de Cure - Again

Hello my spandex clad friends. It's that time again that I come knocking, hat in hand, to ask you to contribute to my fundraising for diabetes.

Please, please, please, donate.

You can donate here.



Trust me, you don't want me to sing, dance, or play any instrument. Your eyes and ears will start bleeding.

However, if you give me your address or email (privately), I will send you an autographed photo of me.

Here's hoping for a happy ending!

Ps! Not that photo.

Pps! Or whatever. If you really, really want a photo of my butt with my name scribbled across it, then so be it. Who am I to judge.