Appy Partment

Hmm, I wonder what this could be?


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- David

Say No to DNF *EDIT*

This is going to a brief overview of last night's shenanigans. Once I get pictures off cameras, routes off GPS devices, and laziness out of my bones there will be a full multi-media account of Halloween goings on.

First off, it was a blast. Kurtz put together an awesome race and we had a good turnout. Checkpoints included finding a needle in an apple, getting a kiss-mark from a stranger, entering a few drinking establishments, receiving a baggie of real human hair, and arts & crafts. There was even a bonus item which cannot be detailed here, although it is definitely Halloweeny, certainly not destructive, and probably a misdemeanor.

Twenty minutes into the race I got a flat, and after getting cussed out by the man himself and having his repair kit tossed in my direction, I found I could not get my rear wheel off no matter how hard I tried. Usually crescent wrenches work fine, but I was just stripping one of my nuts (ha!) and decided to give it up. But then I figured, "You know what? Fuck it." I locked my bike up and jogged the rest of the checkpoints, passing fellow racers here and there and even beating a few of them to the finish. I re-discovered something very special that night: Running sucks so damn hard.


Fer some reason you can't embed custom maps, so click the pic too see it in Google Maps if yer interested. The red path is what I did on foot, and the red icon is where my tire went flat.

I returned to Kurtz's home/the finish line and was greeted by many a costumed racer already imbibing. I drank a quick one, traded shoes, and rode a strange bike to ghost ride my disabled beastie back. With proper tools I sat cross-legged in a short skirt on a kitchen floor and fixed the flat. More drinking was followed by a bit more drinking, and then some more. The final four patrons were standing/sitting/wobbling around preparing to head out into the night when Kasey showed up and enabled us (in more ways than one) to sit and chat longer.

Thus, thoroughly intoxicated and fulfilled, Y.T. was driven home by his lovely lady where he then sat on the couch and watched Gilmore Girls and had a veggie burger with mustard and cheese, and then went to bed. A fun, fun night for sure.

Now I just need to get this stiffness out of my legs.

- David

Fackin' Buses

Today I hate buses.

This morning while doing my daily Sprint de Busstop I approached an intersection at the same time as an HRT bus coming from the opposite direction. I'm in the far-right lane going to turn right, and the bus is in the turning lane, set to enter the same street as me. I have the green light and I'm traveling faster than the bus. My bright-ass Knog light is blink-bliking, my vest is red and has reflective bits, there are working street lights all around. I can see the bus driver's face.

I'm looking at the driver, he's apparently looking at me. At this point I haven't indicated with hand gestures or smoke signals or body language that I'm turning. For all he knows I'm going straight on through the intersection. My light is still green, not yellow or red.

As I approach the crosswalk lines at speed, suddenly he accelerates and begins to turn right in front of me. I'm making a face at him (that he probably couldn't see, he was looking into the turn) like, "What the fuck, man? I thought we had an understanding." Had I been going straight and not looking right at the bus I would have run smack into it, or under it. I had to brake moderately hard and turn down my intended street, and still I ended up close alongside the bus about 3/4 down it's length.

Now, I did not signal my turn because I wasn't crossing any lanes and the bus was the only other vehicle on the road. Plus I believe legally I had the right of way and, silly me, I expected a city bus to respect that. It wouldn't have made any difference, the bus would have cut me off either way. In fact if I hadn't been turning it could have been wose as I may have been going faster and been in the middle of the intersection or unprepared to turn as Mr. Buspants decided to cut Y.T. off. 5:27am is way too early to be dodging buses and avoiding crushity death.

I've had an HRT bus push me into another lane before, and that was scarier, probably because I was still new to the commuting world and those rear-engine buses sneak up on you. But this was just angering. Probably because I always background-expect shit like this to happen. I need to start keeping my u-lock within reach and tapping on windows and shit, get me some respect. Or some missing teeth...

At any rate, bike rack was full today. I biked home, laid down for twenty minutes, then drove it in. I'm just going to start using a bus stop further down the route, or hitching it through the tunnel. I wish I could go around HRT all together. Except for the ferry. I love the ferry.

Today is my Friday, I'm ready for it. Take me.

- David

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.


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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.

Pussin' Out

Macaframa from MACAFRAMA on Vimeo
Seriously. Today I was pitiful on a bicycle. Unlike any of the fine peeps you see in Macaframa videos.

Perhaps my suckiness was due to getting up ass-balls early, or the lack of any water for the entire day. Bad diet? Poor constitution? The heat? It doesn't really matter. In the end, it was just plain horrible.

Hampton Blvd suuucks for bike traffic. But unfortunately I have to take it for a few miles on the way home for work. It's an unsafe road, especially during traffic. And I'm used to traveling along Virginia Beach Blvd! But in the week I've been taking Hampton I've had more angry buzz-bys than in months of my old commute.

So I've opted for a kind of shortcut. I catch the bus for a few miles until I can get on the calmer, gentler Colley Ave and then bike from there. I could argue that I'm being safer, but a small part of me feels like I'm copping out. Whatever. It makes my commute more enjoyable.

Anyways, today I missed the bus by forty seconds. As far as this little piggy can tell they come every thirty minutes. I couldn't decide if I wanted to wait until 5:15-ish (traffic was looking really backed up, which is also why I was late) or just suck it up and bike it. I reluctantly decided just to pedal home, not wanting to get home super late. Also, I was antsy and didn't want to stand around in the heat.

Head wind + three lanes + full traffic + angry commuters = So Not Fun. I can taste the exhaust most days. A few miles in I pulled into a parking lot and decided to just wait for the bus. I was cranky and didn't feel like dealing with people's roadrage bullshit.

While I was waiting and staring disdainfully at the constant stream of traffic, what did I spy coming down the lane but a thick woman on a bicycle. "Motherfuck," I thought. There I was admitting defeat when this lady on a commuter with panniers, biker shorts, and a bright green jersey is sticking it out like a pro. Sigh.

So I manned up and got behind her. I think she was probably a little put off by this kid on a fixed gear following her for about six miles. And not only that! After a few miles I tried to get in front of her to take my turn blocking the wind (in the industry we refer to this as "pulling") but she either didn't want to keep up or misunderstood my intentions.

I get a good distance between us as I (attempt) to sprint up the bridge and then the fabulous traffic on Hampton decided not to let me get into the left lane so I can get into calmer seas. Fack. I take the next right off of Hampton so that I can catch a light or something and navigate a break in the traffic to get to my road. But wait! There's a god damned grass median in the way! Lordy.

After sprinting through a short hole in the line of motor vehicles barreling across my path I hop onto the median and wait for another hole in which to complete my maneuvers. And here comes my friend again! In the correct lane! Hitting the green light perfectly! Smooth as butter. Siiiiigh. Now I'm in behind her again, trying to keep a respectable distance but still use the power of numbers to keep traffic at bay. One cyclist: Angry, disrespectful drivers. Two or more: At least a safe distance.

Finally our paths separated and I yelled a friendly goodbye to try and show her I wasn't a freak. She seemed to understand, at least enough to smile and say goodbye back. Then I navigated my inefficient path through Ghent and finally home. Hot, sweaty, and annoyed. Probably one of the worst commutes I have in memory.

But still, I wouldn't give it up for anything. Tomorrow will be better. Oh yes. Tomorrow will be better.

Rant over.

- David

Evo-viewtion

Everyone has their little idiosyncrasies. Kasey counts things repeatedly, in little patterns. Riley sleeps on her back. My brother is very particular about certain textures. One of mine is thinking about human evolution and how it pertains to the current moment. When I'm picking out food, when I'm going to the bathroom, when I'm getting sick, etc. I'm always wondering what my body is doing/thinking from an evolutionary standpoint.

Like for instance, today my body probably thought the following occurred:

I woke up and ingested twigs and berries (whole-wheat toast with jam) and some seriously filthy stream water (coffee). Then apparently there was danger or food, as I furiously fled or chased something for about thirty minutes (the gym).

After that I found some clean stream water and rested a bit before chasing down something big enough to fill two bellies (biking to Ghent for huge burritos). The Fuel Imperative fulfilled, I then set about fulfilling the Reproduction Imperative. Details aside, once completed my body shutdown for digestion and repairs. All in all, from a biological/evolutionary standpoint, a good and complete day.

As soon as I'm done with Spook Country I'll be grabbing the tome you see above, which plays perfectly into my preoccupation. Alliteration! And rhyming.

Tomorrow I'll be driving out my new work route to make sure all is fine and dandy with bridges and traffic and whatnot. 8.3 miles, son. Each way. Gonna be goooood. There's no way to puss out on miles like if I had gotten into the base three miles away.

Peace out, have a good weekend.

- David

Change of Venue?

Being between jobs like I am, I've had some time to think about what I'd really like to do with myself. Computers is great and all, but it don't really turn my crank no more. I love technology; just today I spent hours messing with GPS software. But it's moved more into the Hobby section of my brain.

So what then? I have this (two year) degree in computer networking and information technology. Should I build upon it? Try to divert it into something else? I didn't even have the money to pay for that schoolin', how am I going to get anymore?

If I can be honest for a moment, I'd love to be a masseur. I have awesome hands after all, and I think they'd be good at massaging muscles instead of keyboards all day. I like people, and I like helping them. I especially like helping naked people who are paying double-digit dollars an hour for my services. I bet it'd be lots of a fun and pretty damn satisfying to be directly bettering the lives of my fellow human beings.

I don't think it's very likely though. Even though there is an accredited massage therapy school (based on the principles of Edgar Cayce!) in my area, and even though there is a bus route that would take me nearly to the front door and back for $1.50. *sigh* Maybe it'll work out. And maybe monkeys will fly out of my butt.

Whatever happened to indentured servitude? "Hey Mr. Spaman, if you help put me through massage school I'll work for you for three to five years." That'd be pretty cool, even though according to Wikipedia the system has a whole bunch of flaws.

Anyone interested?

- David

*Edit*
Oooh, the whole course is actually cheaper than I thought...