 |
04 June
Nexus of the universe
Turns out the nexus of the universe is a small gas station in Greensburg, LA. If you're not in line to get gas, then get out of the way. If you are waiting for gas, get out of the way. If you're pumping gas, hurrying the hell up, half the world is waiting for gas. As it turns out, there still is a gas station in the known world that does not use pay at the pump. It was as if I was visiting a third world country. I had to pay with, get this, cash. I haven't used cash for gas since, hell I can't even remember, it's been that long. Who pays with cash?
I managed to log a mere 146 miles on the bike today. And although 146 miles might not sound impressive, your butt starts to hurt after several hours on a bike. This was my second weekend of riding with BBC and OL. I've had so much fun on our last several rides, I've changed my mind from selling my bike to upgrading my seat.
I'd like to say we had a leisurely ride to our lunch destination, but BBC is a speed demon. I'm all for speeding when I'm in a car, not on a two-wheeled death machine. BBC came up with our riding plan and lead us, so we had no choice to keep up with her - she was the only one who knew where we were and how to get home.
The first part of our ride was to St. Francisville, home of the Magnolia Cafe . BBC insists it has the world's best sandwiches. I insist they're known for the dangerous gravel driveway and surly wait staff. For the cycling neophytes, gravel equals death. Stay away from gravel when on the two-wheeled death machine. As for the surly wait staff, our waitress was old, mean, and anti-people. Hey, I'm all for being anti-people, it's one of my mottos. I'm anti-people so I don't have a job where customer service is important, but if your job is to smile, be nice, take food orders and associate with paying customers, then you can't be anti-people. FYI, the restaurant with the world's best sandwiches doesn't serve chips or fries with these famous bread delights. Would it kill you to have a chip with that bread?
After successfully navigating the driveway of death, we rode to Jackson for ice cream at Bobby's Drive Inn - except it was dine in only. In addition to the soft-serve ice cream, Bobby's sells boxes of fried foods like liver and okra. Everything on the menu was fried, except the ice cream. But if you ask nicely, they'll probably fry that for you too. Anyone in the mood for a box of fried liver? While enjoying our ice cream, I noticed a disgruntled old lady arguing with her table cloth, apparently it made her mad.
Motorcycle riding is all about taking the back roads. You really can't get more back roads and back woods than our riding today. During our ride home, we had a new group leader, let's call him Old Man. BBC had Old Man and his wife, the old woman, meet us for lunch. Old Man has even less consideration for the speed limit than BBC. We hit a construction zone early in our ride which had clearly marked signs for the new speed limit of 35mph. There were also multiple signs warning drivers about increased traffic fines in the construction zone. Old Man, Old Woman and BBC continued to race thru this long stretch at 55mph, while OL and I eased off.
Truth is, we were so far out in red neck land, if we get stopped, four of us get a ticket and our licenses revoked. OL, however, gets thrown in jail...for being purple and all.
After six hours of sun-baked riding, our butts demanded an end to the day. So we showered, well at least two of us did, and made our way to beer and food. Afterwards, I went to the Captain's gathering for the Hatton vs Tszyu fight. The Captain and I decided to place a little money on the match. I was pulling for the pasty white brit. I did have some doubts as to my pick simply because the Captain eats, breathes and craps boxing - surely his boxer would do better. Not really, he quit before the 12th and final round. The money I made tonight, paid for my riding adventures today.
ramblings by Whitey on 11:28 PM111807524414421012 Whatcha talkin' bout?
[]
03 June
Prayer buddies
My big plans tonight were watch Friday Night Fights, drink a beer then sleep - not in that order. However a surprise visit from my parents interrupted these well thought out plans. During their visit, I mentioned to Mom that I will not be home for our usual Saturday morning visit.
Every single Saturday morning my Mother stops by for a visit. I'm her scheduled 10:45am, after praying but before getting her hair did. So when I mention I won't be home, she asks if it's ok if she and a friend stop by. A friend? What the hell? Am I running a pit stop for her prayer buddies?
I groan at her suggestion and mention how messy the house is. She responds with her friend keeps a messy house too so it's no big deal. Let me get this straight. If I've got a messy house and you've got a messy house, it's ok for this stranger to see said messy house? It somehow takes away from the mess because of her mess? I don't see the logic.
Me: Well, I guess I'm cleaning the rest of the night.
Mom: No, it looks fine.
Me: I'm not having some stranger walk into the house when it's a wreck.
Mom: It's fine, but you were going to clean the kitchen anyway, right?
Me: No.
Mom: :::silence:::
Me: I am now. Sigh.
So I did. How will her prayer buddy feel now that my house is clean and hers is still a mess?
ramblings by Whitey on 11:15 PM111807168572162974 Whatcha talkin' bout?
[]
02 June
My Left Foot
The fancy brown shoes I ordered via the internet arrived today. The shoes really aren't fancy, I just like that word. Ordering shoes online is always a risk because you don't actually get to try them on before you buy. Turns out the shoes fit...different on each foot.
The right one slipped on easily, no problems. However, I had to wiggle and wrangle my left foot into the new shoe. I got it in, but not without some work. Maybe the left shoe is defective or maybe my left foot is bigger than my right foot.
A few months ago I bought a new pair of dress shoes for work. The shoe sides come up a little higher than most of my other shoes. It was a struggle to get my right foot in the shoe, but once in it fits great. It was an ordeal to get my left foot in. I bought the shoes anyway figuring the leather would stretch allowing for an easier entry. Wrong. It's still an ordeal to get that damn shoe on.
Guam assures me this is a common occurrence. But how common is it to have the occurrence develop later in life? I never had this problem growing up. Hell, I didn't have this problem 6 months ago.
If this problem continues, I plan to make a living with the circus.
Woman lives with one foot that won't stop growing. Watch it grow before your very eyes. Today her left foot is a size 9, tomorrow it will be a size 11. See. It. Now.
ramblings by Whitey on 9:31 PM111807088884420996 Whatcha talkin' bout?
[]
12 June
Are prunes next?
It's possible I experienced the worst.moment.ever at the Y. There's one machine left for me to hit in my routine, the ab crunch, however little, old lady is currently pounding out her sets. I stand by close enough so she knows I'm waiting for the machine, but not so close that it's rude.
It important to note, this little old lady is lumpy and pushing 60 years.
She finally finishes her set, wipes down the machine (old person sweat is the worst because they quit wearing deodorant at age 50) and moves away. I zoom in guaranteeing no one else can grab the machine. Turns we shared the same seat seating and then I noticed it, the weight she was crunching 55lbs - THAT'S MY WEIGHT! Ack!
I'm using the same weight as an old lady...an old, lumpy 60 year old lady! What the hell is wrong with me? Surely I can crunch more weight than her, right? I'm clearly facing a personal crisis right now. Next I'll be tucking my shirt into my shorts and refusing to wear deodorant. Ack!
ramblings by Whitey on 10:32 PM111872102624381415 Whatcha talkin' bout?
[]
13 June
Nurses shoes feel great
The cast of characters continues to grow at the Y. Yes, characters is the correct word. It's possible there's a hidden camera in the workout room watching us watch the weirdos. And yes, weirdos is the correct word. You'll see. Read on.
Today a mortician came in for his cardio. How do I know it was a mortician? Because he was an older, white man with really white hair. The white with white is clue number one. Do undertakers come in any other color? I think not. He had on a pair of black polyester pants with black, squishy nurse looking shoes. He's on his feet all day, he needs some foot support. He also wore a starched white long sleeve shirt and had a fancy, black, shiny dress belt.
Come on, who dress like this to work out? The man who deals with the dead, that's who. He made his way over to a treadmill, rolled up his sleeve and started walking. He didn't seemed bother by the polyester and nurse shoes, but then again, since he wears those shoes all day, I'm sure they are made for comfort.
Later on in the evening, a pirate appeared in the weight room. Yes, a pirate. How do I know it was pirate? Because he was an older white man, with long, shaggy white hair and a white beard. See, clue number one. All exposed skin was covered with various tattoos and he wore a blue do rag to keep the shaggy hair out of his eyes. Oh speaking of eyes, he did have two, but he only had one leg. Yes, he is a pirate. Below his left knee was some metal contraption with a gnarly tennis shoe on the end. The tennis shoe is to throw the casual observer off his scent. What self respecting pirate wears an athletic shoe and not a peg leg? Well hell, what kind of pirate works out during the day on dry land?
Mr. 80's made an appearance again. This is Mr. 80's first mention in the blog, but I've noticed him before. He insists on wearing those crazy MC Hammer work-out pants from the 80's. Do you remember those ugly pants? Well he's the only one still wearing them. They're still ugly, but now they ugly and faded. Also, his tremendous gut hangs over the ever-stretching elastic waist band.
Thing is Mr. 80's likes to look the part, albeit the 80's part, of the hard core weight lifter. However all he does is socialize. For 20 minutes, I watched him chat up a dude riding a bike. After that he made his way around the gym to chat. I wonder if he's met the man who joined a gym to watch 2 tvs.
Keep in mind, I'm watching all these folks from my perch on the elliptical machine. Which means, there's other people in the gym watching me. I wonder if there blogging about the lady with sassy hair who wore the lemon yellow shorts tonight? Doesn't she know that pale yellow does not compliment her pasty, white skin? What was she thinking?
ramblings by Whitey on 9:44 PM111880555177242473 Whatcha talkin' bout?
[]
26 June
Meet a woman of the new millennium
After moaning and whining about my tailbone for four years, I finally nutted up and bought a new seat. The fancy-schmancy foam insert in the seat is supposed to eliminate the butt ache.
I also decided I could tackle the job of changing a motorcycle seat. I mean how hard could it be? And besides, I've got the genuine Honda repair book at the low, low cost of $80.
I busted out my $80 Honda repair book for the following instructions on removing the seat: Remove seat bolts. (Diagram of arrows pointing to bolts) That's it. The book doesn't even tell you what type of tool is needed.
My plans of being a woman of the new millennium were halted after I lacked a) the proper tools b) brute strength and c) any type of mechanical knowledge whatsoever.
It's important to note that I own the following tools: hammer, pliers, monkey wrench, flat head screw driver and Phillips head screw driver. These are the only tools a person needs right? I mean if you can't repair something with this vast array of tools...
I've now added a set of standard and metric Allen wrenches to my collection. Home Depot was out of metric wrenches and Wal-Mart only sold a duel set. By the way, these Allen wrenches are longer than your average set. My brother-in-law clued me in to this before my purchase. The short set wouldn't reach the bolts.
I managed to get the seat bolts off using my new 5mm long Allen wrench and pliers. I needed the pliers for extra leverage. My next task was to remove the sissy bar because the new corbin seat doesn't fit with the sissy bar. Two of the bolts on the sissy bar required the 5mm wrench again, how handy. But after two turns on each bolt, I managed to strip the head.
You see, the bolt was turning, but so was the screw underneath. This damn screw was above the tire, but below the fender making it difficult for the pliers to grasp. Realizing I was wasting my time and destroying the screw, I moved on the seat bracket. Buying a new seat means reusing the existing seat bracket. I paid for a new seat, not a new bracket.
Monkey wrench in hand I easily removed one bolt, then all forward progress stopped. The other two would not move no matter how hard I tried. I decided to stop before I marred a second set of bolts. It is at this point where I took the monkey wrench and beat on the bracket out of frustration. Then I beat the bracket some more and loudly cursed at it. Surely this would ease the entire situation.
Feeling like a failure with the bracket, I went back to the sissy bar and stripped the head some more ensuring future work on this bolt would be more difficult. It is at this point I would have busted out a drill or saw if I owned one. I was fully prepared to drill holes in everything in order the get it off of the bike. But I only own five tools.
After recapping my woeful story to my brother-in-law, he came over this morning to help me. Turns out removing the sissy bar is easy, if you have a socket wrench. Socket wrench under fender, turn a few times and presto bar be gone. BTW, the $80 Honda repair book offered no instructions on the removal of said sissy bar.
The seat brackets turned out to be quite a test for BIN - neither remaining bolt would budge. See it wasn't just me. It took both of us using a complicated mixture of pliers, monkey wrenches, crescent wrenches and some contortionist moves to remove the bolts.
OK, so now we're ready to put the new seat on with the old bracket, but with the new seat bolts...except the new seat bolts aren't long enough. The old bolts are mounted to the old seat so there's no using those. We tried removing washers, rubber thing-a-magiggies, and copper inserts, but nothing worked. Why do they give you a set of bolts that are completely useless?
I made a run to the hardware store and bought new, longer bolts. I added the new bolts and old bracket to the seat. In order to get the holes and bolts lined up on the seat, I had to lean across the seat, apply pressure then screw in the new bolts. The Corbin website made the seat exchange sound so simple. Ha!
Anyway I've got a new seat and according to the information in 1500 miles the seat will conform to my butt.
ramblings by Whitey on 9:10 PM112014135724811974 Whatcha talkin' bout?
[]
27 June
I'm a young waif
I never, ever buy DVDs from Wal-Mart. I do a quick price comparison online and usually get them way cheaper from some random discount warehouse. Being impulsive, living on the edge and making cost no concern, I decided to buy from Wal-Mart.
When the cashier swipes the DVD over her scanner, the machine loudly beeps her.
Her: Can I see your driver's license?
Me: What?
Her: I need your driver's license.
Me: Um, ok.
I dig it out and hand it to her. She examines it for a bit, then gives it back. I must admit I'm confused why she needed to see my id for a PG-13 movie. I'm clearly older than 13.
Me: So, you needed to make sure I was 13.
Her: What?
Me: You needed to make sure I was older than 13.
Her: Yes.
Me: You have to check my id to make sure I'm at least 13?
Her: Big time.
What is wrong with this? Anyone can tell I'm not 13. In fact, I don't even border in the teenage year, yet she needs to check my id. As far as I know, it is not against the law to sell a PG-13 movie to someone younger than 13. The movie rating system is more of a guideline than a law. Ever seen a 12 year old go to jail for watching and/or buying a PG-13 movie? Exactly.
Is Wal-Mart part of the new Nazi regime? Why do they care of some punky kid watches a movie that's not rated for their age? And what if a 14 year old wants to purchase PG-13 movie but has no id? Most 14/15 year olds won't have any id yet. Does the big and mighty Wal-Mart really need to be the moral center of our universe? Do they need to parent kids instead of the real parent?
Maybe I'd feel differently about this if I had kids, but I don't. I don't need a minimum wage worker checking my id for my movie purchase.
ramblings by Whitey on 9:22 PM112014495196294444 Whatcha talkin' bout?
[]
|
|