Vlog Entry - Jeezy Chreezy, Greasy, & Xmas

- David

Moje Teta je Úchvatný

Apologies in advance if the title of this post offends any Czech readers who may stumble upon it.  Google told me to do it, and hopefully it's not playing a joke on me like I'm the German guy in Can't Hardly Wait.  I'm a weekend late in posting this, and I apologize for that as well.  I don’t know if it was the schedule change or the back-to-back calls every day at work but last week just flew by.

Anywho, my lovely & awesome aunt came down to visit Kasey and I on her way out West.  She's been living in New York for a spell and going to the Culinary Institute in Hyde Park with her massive dog Romey.  Now that she's all graduated and unencumbered by school she's striking out with 95 lbs of dog and an SUV full of possessions to move to the nor' west part of the country somewhere.  On the way she's visiting friends and family and I was lucky enough to have her around for a few days.

Being the first of my family to actually visit the new home I've come to love so much, I wanted to make sure everything left a good impression.  It may sound dumb, but I regularly day dream about little visits my family could make and all the fun crap we'd do.  That's how much I like it here.

You only get one chance to make a first impression, but you can shampoo the carpet till the cows come home.  And shampoo I did.  In fact, I don't think the apartment (well, the non-bedroom parts) has ever been that tidy and inviting.  We vacuumed, cleaned the carpet in varying stages and angles of approach, mopped the floor, cleaned the counters, did the dishes, straightened up all the knick-knacks, combed the dog; all the crap regular people do on a regular basis but we do only if a VIP is making a visit.  With the Christmas tree and ring of festively wrapped, unmarked presents underneath the place looked very cozy indeed.  I think it also helped my chances of leaving a positive impression that the house was already sprinkled with past presents from the honored guest as well.

She made the drive late at night and come over around Noon where Maudie mauled her and was in turn showered with attention.  After taking a brief look around the apartment we headed out for lunch in Ghent at Azar's which seemed the perfect place to officially start her visit.  I couldn't very well take my chef of an aunt out to McDonalds or something, now could I?  Azar's also has a lot of vegan and vegetarian dishes and a cute little market I knew she'd enjoy.  Ghent itself is also right up her alley.  We talked and ate slowly and spent time catching up on everything from stories of the past to new happenings back home.  Kasey and my aunt Brandon get along well, which is a pre-requisite for successfully dating Y.T.  Baby or no, not liking any one of a few key family members could be grounds for separation and/or hefty fines.  It says so right on the end-user agreement form I hand out when meeting possible daters.

Afterwards we picked up Romey from the hotel (he was being grumpy and didn't want to get in the car earlier, and it's not like you can pick up a ninety-five pound dog and put him on the seat) and thankfully after subtly moving him closer and closer to the car we were able to get him in and get all four of us back to Olde Towne.  I leashed up Maudie and together we showed my aunt the neighborhood I've come to consider my own in a way I haven't with any other.  We let Maudie and Romey off the leash in a small park not far from my house so they could do whatever.  Romey wanted to play and as Maudie ran by she got rolled over a couple times like a furry hotdog on a plate by the huge bulldog.  I think the size difference between the two left them at a loss on how to interact with each other.  No harm, no foul; Maudie simply scampered away with a look on her bug-eyed face like, "What was that!"  I've become quite adept at reading a pug's mood and she was fine.  The trick is looking at the tail and not the face when determining a pug's emotional state.  The curl, speed, and direction of the tail gives a lot more information than the perpetually horrified/depressed look all pugs seem to have.

The next night Aunt Brandon came over with bags of groceries and made macaroni and cheese from scratch.  She pulled tiny leaves off things, grated cheeses of origin and type I'd never heard of before, and made a nummy salad dressing to pour over leaves of green and purple.  We pre-feasted on salad and crunched on slices of bread while we waited for the pasta and I introduced my aunt to The Labyrinth, which I honestly could not believe she'd never seen before.  Even though I was plenty full I kept going back for more.  She's always been a good cook and I'm glad she's going to do that for a living now.

All the food was fantastic and having her there was wonderful.  We laughed a lot and just talking to her is a joy.  I get nervous around most people, family members definitely not excluded, but I've always been more comfortable around my aunt.  I was sad as I closed the door and made sure she made it to the elevator through the peep-hole (sometimes people get confused) when she left.  I've been waiting a long time to have someone from my family come see me, and I'm glad it was her.

I definitely need to make more of an effort to keep in touch with my family, even though they should still get their asses out here once in a while!

 - David

No, Like "The Giver"

Last night I broke down.  Kasey confessed to me that within the last day or two she finally got excited about the baby and had been refereeing to it by name instead of "it" or The Gaffer, which is the nickname I steered her towards when she was still calling it The Gross-Ass Fetus.  I think the baby can hear now and I don't want it growing a complex along with all of it's other organs.

So on the way home from the grocery store, and after numerous iterations of "I'm sure, I'm sure!" Kasey let me in on the gender of the lil' one.  Which his pretty much how I wanted it to happen.  I figured I could probably hold out until the doctor told me, but I was fairly certain someone would let it slip or I'd figure it out some how.  Riding in the car, just the two of us, laughing and enjoying being near each other seems like the perfect place to hear this kind of news.

Ladies and gents (excepting all those who already know), we're having a boy.  Sometime in the spring lil' Jonas Charles will be borne into the world and become the next Emilio Airhart, Lex Luthor, Charles Darwin, Salvador Dali, or Trent Reznor.  I was about 49/51 on whether I wanted a boy or a girl but it was very exciting to think of having a little Davey to teach stuff that a girl may not be interested in.  Like the proper application and technique of The Shocker.

So for all y'all that knew but knew I didn't want to know, know now that I know.  Coo?

Now if we can only work out this last name thing…

 - David

P.S. And each person who asks, "Jonas, like the Jonas Brothers?" is going to get a kick to their soft nether-parts and spit in their face.

Big (5", 5 oz) News!

Soooo, apparently I'm not shootin' blanks like I thought all these years:



I've been holding out on this post for awhile just because I hadn't broken the news to my family, but my dad knows now and my aunt will be here soon so (hopefully, cuz she does read this blog) I may be able to tell one of my family members face to face.

To the rest of my loved ones, this may seem like a shitty way for me to bust out baby pics but I'm still weird with this kinda thing. I mean, I'm excited fer sure. We have names picked out (Jonas Charles for a boy, Dylan Waits for a girl) and I'm already plotting schemes to raise a vegetarian child (tiny pet piggies and perhaps a miniature cow that I'll have to invent) but being like, "Hey, um, I got a kid coming!" is still really hard. I'm not ashamed, it's just so foreign.

Kasey is fifteen weeks along, and the kid is about 5" and 5 ounces big at this point. The ultrasound was surreal. Based off television, I thought ultrasounds were kind of boring, 2-dimensional sorta deals. But no, oh no. We could see it moving around! It's little arms were all over the place! The ultrasoundologist had to jiggle Kasey's tummy to get The Gaffer's legs to uncross so the sex could be determined cuz apparently David/Kasey Jr. is a modest soul (unlike it's pappy) and needed some prompting to show the goods (very unlike it's pappy). But she was able to determine if it's gonna wear a poodle skirt or a leather jacket eventually.

And this an important paragraph right here. Ready? I don't want to know what it is. I'm an old fashioned kinda guy and with the help of the understanding peeps at the doctor's office they were able to impart the chromosome situation to Kasey but keep me in the dark. Everyone we've encountered since the visit knows, but I don't. And I'd like to keep it that way until the doctor spanks it's booty and busts out the cigars. So please, no blabbin'.

Other than being at a loss at how to break the news (with my friend Kurtz, I let him know by telling him Kasey couldn't accept his offer of booze while rubbing her tummy with a comical look on my face) I'm looking forward to the whole deal. I'm sure the sleep deprivation and unimaginable messes won't be a blast, but man, this is going to be interesting.

- David

Attempting to Define A Life - Past

Writing a biography, auto- or otherwise, seems like an impossible task. How much of our lives are made up of intensely personal, internal thoughts and feelings that can't be defined or described to others, beyond tax brackets and age groups and culture and history? Walking down the same street, side by side, our minds are vastly different universes, each at least as complex as the physical one we live in.

But I've been thinking about my life lately, and how to express it to my loved ones. How to explain it, I guess would be more accurate. Even while another voice says I don't have to explain anything, I haven't done anything wrong; I don't have anything to say for myself.

Still, I have this feeling that my family may look at my life as something less than acceptable, and that perhaps I have done something wrong. And am continuing to do so. It's probably vanity, but I have always been happy that my life hasn't followed what seems to be the Standard Plan for Young Americans. I go where the wind takes me, and sometimes that matches the Plan and sometimes it does not.

So here we go.

I am twenty-five years old. On December 30^th I will be twenty-six. My last name means "cake" in Czechoslovakian. I'm adopted by my father, to whom I owe everything. Some people may contend that, but I've never felt any differently. I grew up in south-east Idaho on a potato and wheat farm owned and operated by my family, where I lived until I was eighteen. The town I lived in had a population barely overly a thousand.

I was an average student, horrendous at math but good in English. The latter is due to my dad. I didn't play any high school sports and was only in Drama once. I did lighting. I took Choir throughout nearly all of middle and high school. I got Biggest Flirt in the yearbook. I helped teach an HTML class. I hung out with the "stoner" kids but wasn't one. I decided I was an atheist around the 7^th grade. I didn't have any real cliques and was liked by pretty much everyone. I worried a lot. I liked girls.

Until a recruiter from the High Tech Institute of Phoenix came to my high school somewhere near the middle of my senior year I had no plans for college. I hated the pressure from my teachers and the assumption that I had to make plans for the future. Even then I didn't like making plans, especially far-reaching plans like college. I knew I wanted to get a higher education, and I knew I would go into computers, but out of some passive-aggressive spite I refused to research schools and write application letters. If the recruiter hadn't come I don't know where I would have went. The school was comparatively inexpensive, had a good program and an accelerated schedule, and Phoenix also happened to be where my high school sweetheart would be moving once she graduated, so it seemed like the best choice. It was the only place to which I applied.

I graduated with an acceptable GPA (which I can't recall now) and began working at Best Buy. While in college I did a bunch of short-term contracting jobs for companies around Phoenix. Best Buy wasn't spectacular, but it paid the bills and the discount was nice. The worst part was being forced to push warranties on the customer covering everything from USB cables to Mountain Dew. That and I hate being a salesman. The powers that be wouldn't let me off for Christmas vacation so that I could enjoy a cruise with my family and see my dad get re-married, so I quit.

After that it was GoDaddy Software which I worked at for about four years, moving from the call center floor to the network operations center, to the security operations center where I was a sub-department in charge of all user accounts for the company. I was making good money in a department made up entirely of me, which I had created as the company grew and they needed a person to take care of accounts full time. I enjoyed working there a lot, and if Phoenix hadn't stopped feeling like home to me I'd still be there now. I made some good friends there that I miss terribly.

As long as I can remember I've always picked friends (and girlfriends) who are smarter than me. In high school it was Tony Bixby. In college and throughout my time at GoDaddy is was Jeff Rodriguez, Chris Beverly, and Scott Gerlach. Jeff helped get me both of my jobs after college and even though we don't talk much I still bug him for computer crap every once in a while. A guy named Chris Hawkins and I spent a lot of time together, getting drunk and eating steak at Applebees or playing Final Fantasy and watching movies. When we were on the call center floor together we ate at Panda Express every night for at least six months straight.

Chris and Scott are the funniest and most fun mofos I've ever met. I cannot count the number times my face and sides have hurt from laughing so hard. Chris and I used to make even the hardiest of people uncomfortable with our ability to deliver the most homo-erotic banter with completely straight faces and natural, conversational tones in our voices. It's a special friendship that can engage in that kind of foolin' around, and I do miss him so. Scott is the best story teller around, and his impressions of people (his lovely wife included) during these stories are hilarious. He pulls faces that make Kasey and I laugh to this day, and I've been gone from there for almost two years. I was proud and thankful to be at his wedding in Hawaii and wish I could still pug-sit for him and Jori.

I married my high school sweetheart Heidi in Las Vegas with only our immediate families present due to a fued between her parents and my grandparents. Think Romeo and Juliet meets The Hatfields & The McCoys, but with potatoes and north-western accents instead of iambic pentameter and moonshine. Thing were good for nearly the entire eight years we were together. Growing up with each other like we did afforded us a total sense of ease around one another. Fights were rare and ended quickly, we thought the same, we helped each other out. We were best friends. We could be ourselves in a way people rarely are unless they're alone, and for a time it was good.

But I started to feel neglected and she wasn't good at handling the stress of college, of her job, of anything, and would take it out on me. I tried my best to help or let it go, but after a while I began to wear. I'm positive I wasn't always a bundle of joy and I wanted a lot from her. We hit a major bump in the road that striped away a lot of trust and innocence, and a year later after things had not improved and I saw the beginnings of bitterness and loathing in me towards my spouse, I decided to end it. I won't lie; it helped that I had someone wonderful to go to. I've never had any delusions about being good at being alone.

Somewhere in here my youngest brother Seth died in a car crash shortly before his eighteenth birthday. It was the first death of an immediate family member that I had ever experienced. I hadn't seen him for a long time, and I don't know if I'll ever be okay with that. I felt the worst for my father and my brother, who were closest to him. People have told me I changed after that, and attributed my decision to end my marriage and move away to this change, but I don't recall feeling anything different about myself. However, I do know now that nothing is all that serious, where before it was only a belief.

Despite having a job and friends I always felt were too good to be true, I had to leave Arizona. The relationship between my long-time girlfriend and short-time wife was making us both unhappy. I was becoming increasingly bitter towards the person I valued the most and I didn't want to hate her. My apartment felt like a cardboard box instead of a home, and I couldn't stand driving/living/existing in a life that had collapsed. The bulk of our friends stopped talking to me the day Heidi moved out, those mentioned above excluded. Maybe I was thinking the grass was greener on the other side of the country, but when you live in the desert that's not a hard thing to imagine.

So I moved to Virginia. After a handful of visits to the east coast I was in love, both with the area and with Kasey. She flew to Arizona and stayed with me for a few months while I tried (and failed) to talk my job into letting me work remotely and packing up all the stuff I owned to drive cross-country. I had an apartment, but no job. I knew one would come, it was just a matter of time. Of course it took longer than everyone would have liked, with my family picking up a lot of my tabs until I got on my feet (which still happens, here and there), but it gave me time to get settled and explore my new, wonderful surroundings.

Two days of driving and twenty-four hundred miles later, I was home. At the time of this writing, that was a year and a half ago.

- David

Part Two Soon!

Christmas Town?

December fasteth approacheth, and it doth bring Christmas Tyme and Me Olde Birthday. In that materialistic, kid in a candy store, gimme gimme gimme vein, I've updated my Wishlist, linked here and in the Stalk Me section on the right. If you're curious about what non-fleshy things I lust for, check 'er out.

It's a specific list but in no means all-inclusive or final. I just have a hard time with the "So what do you want for Christmas/your birthday?" question when it's face to face. It's easier for me to make a list cuz I'll forget when I'm under pressure. Also, I prefer that my character flaws be apparent only on the Internet.

Although in truth, a lump of coal might be asking for too much this year.


- David

Semi-random Pict0rs

I got new glasses, and in an effort to not appear totally self-centered I'm including cute, distracting pictures of my pets too.

Ms. Maudie!

War Tilly: The Best Cat Evar

New glasses.
It's coooold out there peoples. I gots a few hours left of this here weekend and then it's back to the grindstone, but I got a lot of crap done. At least if feels that way.

I think I'm the only living thing in my apartment not napping right now. I think I may join my lovely assistant and get in on the action, too. Gotta warm up for bed time, right?

- David

*Shrug*

After getting picked up after the Halloween race, stumbling and sauced, my night was about over. But my buddy Kurtz's night was just beginning apparently.


I don't know no details, but apparently my silent but deadly amigo spent the night in a real locked box, no imagination necessary. He is the Tyler Durden to my Edward Norton. I'm sure potential employers are happy about it, but right now I'm wishing my criminal record was a little less white cotton panties and a little more crotchless leather.

It rained balls today. I got misted on during my mile and a half ride to work, but it was real purdy and refreshing. Then it poured and poured and poured, and as I changed into my rain clothes I knew I wasn't taking the bus today. I'm a fowl weather rider; the shittier the weather, the more I want to cycle in it. Unless it's something like 23 mph right in my face. And even then I'd consider it. As it was, the wind felt like 23 mph right against my back. I rode the entire 8.5 miles home, rain, wind, and people nosing their fat asses out of parking lots and all. It was awesome. I love the rain. My junk is drying as it hangs on my drying bike right now.

I'm sneaking in about four hours of overtime this week. See me stroke my mustache maniacally. I need the money.

Obama is President. I'm happy, I just wish I could have been in a bar or someplace public when it was announced. I heard that shit was loud. In related news, I don't have to move to Canada yet. Thanks, America.

I've been eating a lot, but not biking a lot. That needs to change.

Family life is good. I love my cat, and she loves me. I love my dog, she's so smart and pretty. I love Bunny, the old hermit of our clan. I love Kasey, she gets lovelier every day. And the guy in the mirror is passable, dome days.

Nighty.

- David

Any pictures you see in this blog that don't suck are not taken by me, and I am not taking credit for them. I always link the image to the photographer's web page.

If You Wanna Be My Stalker

You gotta get with my blog.

Yesterday, much to my surprise, I found my lower-half pedaling right past the bus stop on my way home as my upper-half looked around like, "Wha- Ooooooh." Then upper- and lower-half pedaled right on down Hampton Blvd and all the way home without any prompting or prodding from your humble narrator.


View Larger Map
It was quite nice. The weather was cool, there wasn't any wind, and as far as I can tell no one tried to run me down.  Hell, no one even sped angrily past me. I tell people all the time how "adverse" weather conditions like the cold and the rain make drivers a little more respectful of cyclists, but it really is quite surprising to see.

After the bridge I had to stop and take my sweatshirt off though, and an old lady walked past eying me warily as she approached.  I smiled and huffed (it's a hilly bridge), "It's warmer than I thought!" She grinned, apparently convinced I wasn't a hoodlum intent on striping down entirely and/or stealing her purse. Clothed thus in wool undershirt and my new Flash t-shirt, I biked through Ghent and Downtown Norfolk with pink arms, face, and fingers from the chilly air. A woman pulling out a parking lot had to wait for me, stern-faced as most drivers are, and I was able to elicit a genuine smile from her as I went past and beamed a full-faced thankful grin in her direction. Waiting for the ferry a young father told me liked one of my new stickers. "Tootie fuckin' frutie man, I like that." I had just been listening to his wife tell their toddler she was going to have to put her in the river if she didn't say mamma, which apparently she can do but refuses to. All in all a most enjoyable commute.

Today though, I took too long in the shower (and I had to take one, it'd been days. Don't judge.) and missed the bus. When the weather is fine you can count on the bus being late, but when it's cold you have no room to play with. I pulled up four minutes after 5:30 and it was gone gone gone. So I biked slowly back home, defeated, not looking forward to getting Kasey out of bed to drive me. But we were both in luck as she didn't need the car today and I got to take a thirty minute nap before heading out again, although apparently I should have made it only fifteen or so. I was late today.

I think my remaining pug has realized Riley isn't coming back from wherever it was she's been this whole time. She seems forlorn, as forlorn as a half-retarded pug can look I suppose. It's so hard to filter out what is probably projection. The vet said she would get moody though, at least for a while. I think Tilly is feeling it too. Riley was a huge presence in that house, with her constant pug-noises, licking of inanimate and invisible objects, and constant following of Yours Truly. Every time a helicopter goes by my brain gets set to yell something at her. I'm sad she's gone.

The last few months have just been a mess. It feels like I'm just scraping by, barely surviving. It's so hard to clean, get out of bed, be constructive, do anything that isn't just trying recuperate from lord knows what by lying around and eating. I miss my family. I feel so guilty about not calling them that I continue to not call them, and then feel guilty again. I have this weird thing with calling my family, where if I don't have anything good to report I don't feel like I should be calling. Which is totally ridiculous, I know. They never put pressure on me to do anything. But I want them to think I'm happy, and doing good in life, and all that junk. And while in my opinion I am, not everyone shares my standards. I'll call soon though, I keep having dreams about them.

I just passed down my first u-lock to my good friend David BS. It feels a little like passing a torch. Maybe he'll get into cycling in a big way and I can say I gave him his first good bike lock. Or maybe I'll be called to the witness stand regarding the brutal maiming of someone with a blunt object that has my fingerprints on it. David BS is the kind of friend that would do that, and I'm the kind of friend that would try to cover for him.

Sweet, I just got approved to go home early. I could stay late but... I'm not gonna. I got forms to print out and send in and dogs to walk and free coffee to consume and girls to kiss. Adios.

- David

Edit: Apparently I should not try e-mail in posts that contain HTML, apologies for the ugly mess.

Madness, Be Gone!

At least that's what I'm hoping is happening.

Ever since October started work has begun to simmer down, and I'm actually getting my official amount of days off. I also started a new schedule which appeals to my laziness: two days on, one day off, two days on, two days off, repeat. I was even mandated to stay at home this Monday for Columbus Day or whatever the hell it is when I was all set to work it. After three months of straight Mandatory OT, this is a welcome change.

On Tuesday I hung out at Kasey's Starbucks for hours and hours and attempted to catch up on the 1000+ webcomics, blog posts, and other ephemera that make up my own little consensual hallucination that is the Interwebs. As I stated in a Tweet that day, I had been feeling that some ingredient of joy was missing from my life, and I discovered that ingredient is webcomics. People can (and do) make me laugh pretty easily, but whether it's my face or my affinity for licking frosting off utensils that are not my own it's mostly me doing the jesting. It's so nice to have someone giving me a little taste o' that medicine. And Dr.s Stevens, Jaques, Bevan & Earle sure can deliver. I feel more like my old self than I have in months.

Now if someone could just give my girl and my dog some healin'. Kasey still has the stomach flu (or a baby, whatever) and now my dog is sick. Maybe there's something in my apartment... Like a deadly spider that's feasting upon us one by one. Or a gas leak. I'm not making the same mistake I did with Gerbie though, and Riley the pug has an appointment with the vet first thing tomorrow morn. I swear, if one more living thing falls ill I'm going Hannalore on my apartment's ass. Maybe it's time to pull up the allergen farm that is all carpeting and damn the consequences when move-out time comes. Not like they aren't going to replace it anyway.

At the risk of sabotaging myself (because it always seems when I let a portion of the internal (non-)workings of my mind out into the world, that portion loses it's power) I've vowed to take public transit to work every single day this month without fail, except on Sundays as HRT has deemed it unnecessary to help Carless Joes like me get across the river. So far it's worked out, even though I have had to skip frivolous things like showers in the name of the cause on occasion. I have been a bad cyclist. But yesterday I felt a familiar pulse in my legs and knees that said to me, "Oh yeah, we did some pedaling today," which is a good sign. As the weather turns cold my old gear is coming out of retirement; I missed my woolen socks and someone completely forgot about my bombproof wool knickers.

I need a costume for Halloween. Any ideas? It needs to be awesome, and something I can ride a bike in. Critical Mass and a bike race are both falling on All Hallow's Eve and I need to come correct. Right now my only idea is dressing as every Asian stereotype I can pull off at once, but we'll see. I welcome suggestions.

Right now I think I'll play Food Delivery Bike Guy and see if these tired Starbucks employees want anything from the Olde P-Towne area to sup.

Have a good un', lads and lassies.

- David

Max Fischer: [to Rosemary] I'm sorry, I just came by to thank you for WRECKING MY LIFE!

Goodnight, Animals

If you've been following my Tweets you know that my gerbil suddenly got sick around Sunday night. After flailing around for what seems like weeks to find a vet that would take her and trying to get her there (and even being turned away by the vet inside Petsmart, who sold her to me years ago), she died Tuesday evening while both Kasey and I were at work.

She was about four, which is like two gerbil lifetimes. Apparently the oldest reported gerbil was only five, but still, I'm bummed. Especially since no one was at home when she went. Kasey was going to take her to a vet that was confirmed to treat gerbils the next day, but I guess it was just her time. Or something gay like that. I hate that no one was there; I had plans to at least try and hold and comfort her. The last night I covered her cage in the undershirt I'd worn that day and put her on my bedside nightstand so she could at least smell and hear me and know someone familiar was near. Whatever was wrong with her, she apparently couldn't see.

We called her Gerbie, and she knew her name. I could call out to her from across the room and she'd pop up and look at me without fail. I'd venture to say she was eccentric as gerbils go. She couldn't get the hang of those gerbil exercise balls and didn't seem to like being out anyway. She was friends with the cat and before that a pet snake and she loved Cheerios. But beside all that she was my pet, and alive, and part of my daily life. Her worth, any living thing's worth, is not only in the tricks it can pull or what use they fulfill.

I know it had to happen some day, and death is a part of life, and I'm Buddhist and Buddhists believe in re-incarnation and the illusion of death and birth, and all that junk, but still... I don't like it. My stomach was sick with worry every day and even though I knew she was old, I was still going to try and fix her. I have to find a shovel now, so I can bury her in the grass behind my apartment building. It's so weird having a pet die in the city.

If I buy another pet, it's going to be a tortoise or something that will have to bury me.

- David

Don't State, Insinuate

Are y'all familiar with the world's shortest horror story?
"The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door..."

Uh huh, I see you shakin' in ya booties.  I thought about that story on the way to the bathroom just now, and when someone walked in as I was walking out it scared the crap out of me.  Why?  Cuz of all that story leaves unsaid.  The mind runs wild with posibilities when the gate is left open.  Why is he the last man?  Was there an apocalypse?  If so, what kind?  Animal, vegetable, zombical, other?  And who the hell is at the door!  Vague things are scarier than defined things, any day.  I'd even venture to say that vague anything is better than defined anything, any day.  Magic tricks, movie endings, sexual promises, all better when you don't try to cram it into a little box.

There's a quote somewhere that I've remembered for years about how human language is made up of eight basic sounds or something, but I can't find it.  (Literally an hour later) Oh wait, here it is: "Language consists of five basic sounds produced by the vocal cords. They are the vowels a, e, i, o, u. The other sounds are consonants produced by air pressure: s, f, g, and so forth."  So it was more than eight, but less than fourty-four.  Anyway, people's thoughts are defined by their language; what makes us think that which we think could ever encompass what is really there, based on such a limited number of simple sounds?  That's why the undefined is scarier/more beautiful/more honest than the defined.  How much more is said with a caress than with words?  I didn't really have a point with all that, I'm just sayin'.  It's slow today, sue me.

The weather has been beautiful lately.  Too bad I've been a lazy turd and have ridden exactly .03 miles per month.  It's really more than that, but it doesn't feel like it.  I need to get out on Saturdays again, even if it's by myself.  I've made a goal internally to not drive to work a single day in October, come Hell or high water, which is still better maneuvered on a bike.  Speaking of, we had craaaazy rain storms on Thursday.  A bunch of the roads I would have taken home were closed due to flooding and once or twice the highest speed setting of the wipers couldn't keep my vision cleared.  It was fun, I love bad weather.

Animals are good, Kasey is good, friends are good, Walden is good, Story of O was good (but ended badly), Lady Vengeance is good, Virginia is good, I'm good.  Just need to relax; I made fun of a fat guy yesterday without even realizing it.  Time to take more naps.

 - David

Remiss You

Werk Entry

I have been remiss.  I have been busy.  I  have been buried.  I have been lazy.  I'm sorry.  I haven't blogged, I haven't called, I haven't communicated with anyone past the carry of my pretty little voice, with the exception of a few spurious e-mails between the gal and I.

It's been interesting, being without a cell phone.  Generally it agrees with me, but I'm getting a phone card tonight so I can reach out to friends and family and soon either a land line will be installed (almost a novelty) or the cell phones will be resurrected.  I know how my old woman worries when I'm out and about on the bike without a way to be contacted.

Presently I'm e-mailing this in from work between phone calls and reboots.  Work is the reason I've been incommunicado, as well as that which will allow me to be con communicado again.  Mandatory overtime for months is a mixed blessing.  I think I'm getting used to it, as long as I get two days off.  For a couple of weeks I only had one day off, then back on for six more fun-filled, 10 hour shifts.  But it is allowing me to crawl out of the hole I'm currently in.  I just hope it ends soon.  I'd rather slowly crawl out of this money pit and take a nap or two along the way than jump out of it and land a grumpy, tired, malcontent on the other side.

Fall is here, just today.  The weather feels like it, too.  Soon I'll have to change my change of clothes for the ride home.  Kasey's new Starbucks opened today as well, just outside our neighborhood.  She's been walking every day and shift-managering like a pro.  My little Kasey, starting off as shift manager in a brand new store which is bound to be busy and successful.  *sniff sniff* I'm so proud!  And avoiding internal combustion too!

Lately instead of browsing channels we browse the book store, and always come away with something new or a title added to our lists of future reading.  I have two books with me at all times, and whether it's the biological history of the human body, another David spending two years by a pond, ancient Chinese secrets, or the story of a French submissive, I'm kept in good company.  I should have been a book reviewer, or perhaps the person who writes the crappy story summations on the flaps and backs of new novels.

Kasey and I just finished reading the same book at the same time, which something I had always wanted to do.  One of the character's internal thinking matched mine to a surprising degree, despite the fact that she's fictional, Canadian, and a middle-aged woman.  I've read characters I would like to be, and characters I've shared isolated quarks with, but never one who thought as I did.  Margaret Atwood knows lives; I can see now why Kasey loves her.  Currently for me it's Walden (which I am enjoying immensely on many levels; that guy, is a genius) and Story of O, which is a dirty, dirty book.  But it's pretty damn good too.  I found it in Barnes and Noble's "eclectic classics" section and was sold after the first ten pages.  Let us just say they contained a lot of wieners, and there wasn't no BBQ.  It's very interesting to read such things in a writing style that is very proper, girlish, and shy.

One hour to go, I can make it.  Take care.

 - David

Ring-a-ling!

Even though it's completely shitty that I'm not in Boston right now, I'm still super stoked that my amigo Aero and his lady Wendy and tying the knot today!

The met, they wooed, they did the long distance Internet thing, and now they're marrying in what I'm imagining as the prettiest town with unicorns and free candy and cigar shoppes as far as the eye can see. But that could just be because I'm feeling all left out cuz I couldn't be there.

But enough of that! Congrats guys! Hopefully we'll see you soon!

- David

Stuff & Yeah

A pretty cute commercial, whether you're a bike dork or not.

So stuff has been going okay. Work has picked up since my sups have "progressed" me, which basically means I'm cleared to take more types of calls than I was before. So instead of being able to read a couple pages between calls now I can take a couple breaths. This also means that instead of bright, shiny new users who are polite I'm taking calls from people who are upset that their shit is broken. It gives me lots of opportunities to practice patience, acceptance, and fake politeness.

I had a race last night after Critical Mass, put on by local biker and photo-grapher Wes. The $5 entry fee went to the SPCA and the racers went on a seven mile loop through Downtown Norfolk and Ghent in roughly the shape of Hello Kitty's head, which also adorns the spoke card. I was most excited for the pre-race track stand competition, which I did pretty well in. Top three got to start three minutes early, and after we could only use one hand the number dropped quickly and myself and two other guys got to take off ahead of the pack. Not that it did me any good, I still came in fifth place. I feel that I'm a decent enough rider, but I tend to get turned around or take circuitous routes when I'm on my own. As soon as I know the streets as well as my fellow racers I'll do a lot better.

My one self-consolation is that I beat out another rider in a dead sprint to the finish. It's one thing to finish an entire race before someone, but to be neck and neck at the end and pull ahead is a pretty cool feeling. He had a good burst of speed but couldn't keep the sprint up, which is really the hardest part. Another fun part was wrecking into Kurtz on the way to the bar and somehow unclipping from both pedals, hopping off the bike as it somersaulted under and away from me, and landing perfectly on one foot, hitting the ground running as it were.

Racing up Church Street was especially fun, cutting through traffic and running red lights (always with care) like I was a seventeen-inch wide ambulance. During races one finds oneself doing things one would curse at other cyclists for if it was any other day of the week, such as riding between lanes of traffic or between traffic and the curb and ignoring signs, lights, and one-way streets. But hey, it's a race. It's not any other day of the week. I'm a respectable enough rider the rest of the time, and even when I'm not I don't get in anyone's way. And I always make sure to at least have the outlines of an escape plan if shit goes south. Even if that plan involves possibly rolling across the hood of a parked car or taking my chances in oncoming traffic.

Kasey has been working two jobs, one at Panera and the other training at Starbucks. A new one is opening right outside of our tiny neighborhood and Kasey got hired there, which is fantastic. She loves working for Starbucks and she won't have to drive out to Virginia Beach and back every day, which is like a raise in itself. You could walk there in ten minutes or so. Monday is her last day as a double-jobber and I'm proud of her for staying at Panera so long, even after she got hired at Starbucks. Let's just say her soon-to-be previous employer wasn't exactly up to her standards.

Also, although 98% of you won't know what I'm talking about and the other 1.9% won't care, I now have a perfect town in Animal Crossing on my Nintendo DS. What is Animal Crossing? It's a game that's hard to explain and even harder to justify to your friends. You basically live in a little town with other non-player characters and do things like fish, catch bugs, plant trees and flowers, write letters, decorate your house (which you pay off your mortgage on to upgrade), etc. This game for me is epitome of Japanese game making: Simple, weird, adorable, and somehow addicting. Anyway, if you get the perfect balance of trees and flowers in half or more of your acres then your town is "perfect". I needed to pass some time, so I mapped out my entire town on a grid and got every acre to be prefect. If I can keep it so for two weeks I get a golden watering can. Why? To grow golden roses of course! Yeah, I know. But it took time and effort and I feel I've accomplished something.

With that confession of nerdiness, I'm outtie. Have a safe Labour Day (as they'd say across the water) and for those of you who follow my Twitters and such: I'm alive, I'm well and moving around, I just can't text for a bit. I'll check in when I can.

Bonzai!

- David

Steel & Momentum

By this time a couple of years ago, my dad was hearing the worst news of his entire life.

A lot of people feel real tragedy can't touch them. They haven't felt it and so don't really believe it's something that can happen. Death is something that happens on TV, to pets, and to old relatives. But people are fragile. Our soft bodies are easily damaged and our intricate systems can fail with a whisper.

Be careful out on those roads. If you're sleepy, stay off the road. If you've had a few, don't drive. Get off the cell phone, put the food down, your coffee can wait. You're piloting an enormous amount of deadly steel and momentum. It deserves your full attention.

I wore my mala beads today. Today I'll watch The Fountain, and probably some Wes Anderson. If I had the money I'd get another ring around my wrist. I'll drink. I'll remind myself that nothing is born and that nothing really dies. I'll tell myself that he's still around, just in different forms. I'll try to pretend like I've really accepted death as a part of life. Last night we watched The Darjeeling Limited and as the actors played across the screen I wished I had two brothers still. I liked being one of three boys.

Hug someone today. And to make it not cheesy, when they're not looking, covertly hump them a little.

- David

I'm Not Being Sarcastic When I Say...

...that people can be pretty awesome.

I know I bitch a lot on this blog. I bet if I categorized my posts they would fall into either "Bitching", "Bicycles", "Bitching with Bicycles", or "Random". I don't know what it is but the last two days I've been waking up on the bluebird side of the bed and this morning I feel like giving a big mushy e-hug to the people I think are awesome folk.

Firstly (and most recently) my friend Sam. Today he woke up early and drove me into work just because he's a good guy. After we were on the road he told me he'd gone to bed after 3:30 this morning, and he was at my house at 6:15, exactly when I'd asked him to. Also last night he bought us pizza and let Kasey and I relax on his couch while we watched a movie and I had a few beers. Sam is barely twenty-one and he just finished his first week as Store Manager of a Starbucks out in Suffolk. He's the man. Besides always offering to help and being a ton of fun to hang out with, Sam is just awesome. And so cute! Cheers to Sam.

Kasey's dad is also awesome. He's put more time and resources into Kasey's car this year than some people would put into their own children. He works more than any rational person should but still makes time for us no matter how tired he must feel. He always has pop and some kind of sweets for us to eat when we go over to his house and watch sports or Nascar. He's one of the genuinely nicest guys I know. He loves his daughter and takes care of her, which I'm really rather partial too. Cheers Kenny!

Speaking of great Heights (ha!) Kasey is pretty wonderful. I imagine that it's not always pixie sticks and slip-n-slides living with Y.T. What with the math retardation and constant leg humping and all. I do talk a lot of crap about things she is only mildly interested in simply because it's me doing the talking, which actually is very sweet when you know how Kasey is. She worries about me consuming meat and meat by-products whenever we go somewhere new to eat, and worries I'm eating enough in general. (Although between you, me, and the firewall (oh I'm so witty) I probably could cut back on the munching a bit.) We may be opposites in a lot of ways, but the parts of us that come together are pretty fantastic (and wet!) and we get each other. Plus, she has a great caboose. Cheers Kasey!

My friend Kurtz is a cool guy. I gave a shout out to him in my recent Commuting Anniversary post but I'll say a bit more here. Besides being a dedicated spandex-free cyclist he's intelligent, darkly funny, and honest almost to a fault. Last night Kasey described him to a friend as being anti-establishment. I'd never thought about it before but in a way that's totally true. The man is well-learned in the art of sarcasm and conversations with him are never dull or short on laughs. He likes the same movies I like, and in my way of thinking that's almost like being in the same cult or something. Despite his rough and tumble exterior he cares a lot about his friends. He's also the only man I've ever seen steal a cross and get up in the middle of a movie to pop next door for a drink (it was the Rocky Horror Picture Show but still, it was sweet.) Kurtz, cheers!

I'm going to combine two peeps here cuz in my mind they're always penetrating each other anyway. My brothers from anothers mothers Aero and Nano are my oldest friends and comrades. While I've met Aero only once in real life I'm set to be one of his groomsmen in his upcoming wedding, which is pretty damn cool. I put both of these guys down in the one-thousand page application for my security clearance under the section of "People Who Have Known You The Longest That Are Not Your Family And Still Like You, Somewhat". Aero and I have our own kind of language when we talk online, which is a mix of Spanish, 13 year-old girl AOL speak, l33t, and other shit we made up. While our opinions on movies does differ wildly at times, I feel we respect each other's film savvy enough to bow heads and shake hands and agree to leave the dueling pistols in the box. Now this may sound weird, but if either Nano or myself had been lucky enough to be born a lady we would totally be that couple people hate but secretly envy. Nano and I have one of those strange friendships that somehow bloomed almost instantly into something deep and lasting even though while I lived in Phoenix we hardly saw each other and don't talk much now. Cheers Nano and Aero!

Even though he's a punk and moved away I'm still going to mention Jeff. Jeff, I know I owe you an e-mail! It's coming, I just have to steal some Internets first. Jeff was the bridge between my solo cycling and the poor sods I currently bug on the Portsmouth side of the river. Without him I wouldn't have joined up with the Saturday riders (which I haven't done in months, but I will again soon) or gotten my clipless pedals as soon or as cheap. Which may not sound like a lot to you, but it is to me. Those two things helped cement cycling as a Big Thing in my life. Always upbeat and mindful of doing right, Jeff makes Jesus proud. And I'm not being patronizing or sarcastic in the least. If all Christians were like Jeff the world would be much better off. Always entertaining and fun to be around, P-Town misses him! Cheers Jeff!

I'd also like to say cheers to my bike Jenny for helping me get so totally buff that if I squat to tie my shoe my pants and underwears rip like I was Lou Farrigno from the waste down. Also for getting me around on the cheap and allowing my body to partake of it's natural biological processes. She's never broken down on me and even though she gets left out in the rain, locked to fences in questionable areas, and manhandled by a clumsy, sweaty guy she still looks good. Cheers Jenny!

If I left you out, you're still probably awesome. Unless you're a dick. And if so, eat it.

- David

Car-ectomy

This morning a guy named Loren who works for my dad took off for Idaho in Misti, the truck I've had for about three years.

She's a good truck; I just haven't been able to afford her for some time. She's going off to my dad's farm where she'll probably work harder but get better care. I'm slightly terrible at taking care of vehicles.

It's kind of like I had this pet elephant. Or perhaps a donkey. Yeah, pet donkey is better. She was handy, and a good worker. I'll miss her a little, but I'm not sad she's gone. I just wish it would have happened under different (less damaging) circumstances.

Anywho. Kasey's dad was able to come through in a pinch and get her car all fixed up and street legal for us (thanks Kenny!) so as a couple we possess internal combustion, but as an individual the only transportation I possess comes from chains, gears, thighs and calves. Vroom vroom.

Speaking of trans-poor-tation, I've been taking the bus in the morning to my new job at the naval base. Getting up at 5:30 in the morning? Shitty. The bus ride itself into work? Pretty nice, actually. I listen to music, I sit in a clean, air-conditioned bus and relax for an hour before a short mile or so bike ride into the base and to the building I work in. Then after work I change and bike the 8.5 miles back home so I can still keep my girlish figure. If I can get access to a shower on the base, I'll bike in as well.

For the next three weeks I'm in training from 8:00am to 4:30pm, then I get my real shift. I'm hoping for something good. It's always a worry when your department works 24/7. A night shift can jumble up your whole life, and being on the opposite schedule as 99% of the world is very strange. Although it can be fun. For a while. I think four ten-hour shifts would be pretty sweet. Here's hoping.

Welp, it's gym time. And then shower. And then errands, and then, who knows? Have a good Sunday.

- David

Necessitās

Needs seem to come in waves. Sometimes you feel a lot of need, other times you don't.

I need to talk to my dad about the truck. I need to apologize to my grandma for the same. I need to move my bike seat down a tiny bit, but it's stuck. I need to start working. I need to save money. I need to vacuum. I need to feel fulfilled. I need $7,000 for massage school. I need to meditate again. I need to go to more concerts. I need to send in my paperwork. I need to shave the dogs. I need more tattoos. I need to find Kasey a local job. I need to find Kasey a bike. I need to find Kasey. I need to take the recycling out. Badly. I need to donate a bunch of old clothes. I need to get my hip and knee looked at. I need to go back and cry during Rilo Kiley. I need hardwood floors. I need to be better. I need to get a tux. I need to go to Boston. I need to do yoga. I need to get home.

- David

Jim Gym Dgim

I'm not one to go to the gym. We've lived in this building for over a year now and this is only about the third time we've used it's workout facilities. I just find it hard to motivate myself to go down to a (fanless, might I add) room and exert myself in place. I'd hop on the bike for a trip from the living room to the kitchen (and I have, actually) but something about running/biking/elliptical-ing in place just seems silly to me.

That being said, the gal and I are making an effort to get down there once or twice a day for at least twenty minutes of exercise and so far we're two for two. Kasey wants to get in shape (even though I think she looks more than fine) and I'm quietly horrified that I'm losing all my hard-won returns from biking to work every day for about nine months. If I can be frank, my legs are a major point of pride for me, and even though I'm not that fast or powerful, I'm pretty happy with my current performance on the bicycle. Losing that would suuuuuck.

My gym needs a fan though. Or four. Fer real. The sweat just sits on me and does not transfer heat away like it's supposed to. So then I'm sitting on a recumbent-style machine (ugh) clawing at my clothing like it was strangulating me. I'm sure the other gym patrons are grateful for the chemical-harsh Clorox wipes provided by the management, cuz today I would have left that machine covered in David Evidence. Twenty minutes of "Performance" and I had some shaky legs. Six miles. Two-hundred and seventy calories burned. Clothes drenched.

Personally, I think a lot more people would get healthy if they started riding bikes. It is hundreds of times more enjoyable to be outside, actually moving through the air and the world, with changing scenery, than to be indoors reading a magazine or watching TV while you move in place. I don't know how people can do it on a regular basis. Conversely, I make up errands and excuses for myself to get out on a bicycle whenever I can and keep fit while eating absolute crap while doing it.

It's bed time for me. My lovely and lively assistant is lying next to me and her purdy back needs a'cuddlin'.

Take care.

- David

Good Times, Good Times

My buddy Jeff's last ride with the P-Town crew before he moves to Montana.

It's got to be a besotted Jesus to keep me satisfied. Nothing bad happened to it, promise.

I'm a bit hungover. Last night we hit up the Bier Garden with Jeff and crew as a send off, even though he doesn't leave until this upcoming Saturday. I drank liberally and had a lot of fun. I'm paying today, but not enough that I regret it. Even though Kasey doesn't agree, I do feel there is a certain type of enjoyable hangover. Like being sore after a good workout.

I need to find me some chocolate. Peace.

- David