Me vs. Me

I ain't no smarter now than I was last year. See? That was horrible grammar suign a questionable contraction and a double negative.

But I'm riding better. Two days ago, I took Debby Diamondback out for a spin. She and I were feeling really good. Her, with her sexy new brake calipers. Oh yeah! All I gotta do is think the word "stop" and I practially fly over the handlebars. For December, my legs were feeling great. I extended my ride so I could catch myself and spank me on the heiney.

Please, allow me to explain.

In 2006, I rode 8,684.5 miles which was the most I have ever ridden. This does not count time on the trainer when the weather is poopy. I log all my miles diligently. I calculate this to be about 511 hours spent on the bike in 2006. That's 3 weeks continuously. Yep. I'm not an OCD case am I?

One of my goals for 2007 was to beat my 2006 miles. The weather poopified a bit in early December and I was worried that I might not make it. But alas, it warmed up and dried up. I've been putting in some good saddle time this week and this allowed me to finally beat myself. So, at the end of my ride on the rail trail, I saw my old self up ahead and I passed me. Don't worry, I was courteous and said "on your left, 2006 Mike!". I was feeling sorta sassy and as I passed me, I reached over spanked myself on the heiney like the little bitch that I am.

This blog is taking on quite the "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" motif, isn't it?

Tomorrow, I'm bringing Tracy Trek with me to ride the beautiful scenic roads of upstate New York. The weather seems like it's gonna cooperate for the rest of 2007.

I would like to do 10,000 in 2008.

This leads me to the inescapable conclusion that I have no life.

Bye.

Santa Skivvies

We're lying through our teeth with the whole Santa story. So, I thought I'd have some fun with it this year.

Who knows, maybe when they're teenagers and they hate my guts, I can tell them the truth and we'll have a good laugh.

Mustard and melted chocolate, to answer your question.

Deborah is O.K.

Hi guys,

In case you don't know, one of my significant others has not been doing well. Deborah Diamondback is suffering from multiple ailments. Her bottom bracket bearings are shot, and require frequent application of anti-seize compound. She underwent a headset overhaul this summer and most recently, her brake calipers succumbed to a pretty nasty case of acute rustiosis.

She is in critical condition, but resting comfortably in my basement.

*sigh*

To think she was between my legs on my way to work just a few days ago. For awhile, I thought I was going to lose her.

But, there is hope: I secured a donor for a brand new shiny pair of Shimano Deore calipers from the Nashbar Institute for Aging All Terrian Bikes. They are being shipped with high priority and should arrive by Monday. She will undergo a relatively routine caliper replacement procedure immediately afterward.

I thank you all for your cards and words of kindess.

I hope this reminds us all of what the holiday season is about. It's not about presents and shopping malls, but our relationships...with pieces of metal plastic and rubber that we can sit on and allow us to go fast.

Happy Holidays.

Snow-alyzer

In my inbox today:

This is ***** **** at Channel 2 News.. hoping for help from a ******* Teacher and/or class on a story I am working on..

I have collected and am collecting more snow.. and I want to test what's in it.... chemicals, etc....I think it would be interesting to know this..

Would like to have an expert at ******** do the testing at a lab..... They would get credit and could be the on camera sound for our story.......

Can you pitch this and see if there is any interest ?

Thanks.. *****

P-S: I have snow on ice and am collecting more.. this is a story for February..

Well, how lucky is he? Our lab happens to be equipped with a FQJ-47 Snow-alyzer 2001!

It's about 4 foot by 2 foot by 6 foot, blue, has a siren, a large plastic funnel on top and a LED readout on the front panel. Just funnel in some snow into the icey intake modulator. Then, it chugs away, making a "Willy Wonka" type sound for 6.2 seconds and "whammo!", the LED screen reads "chemicals" or "no chemicals". It's that simple.

We were thinking about getting a FQJ-45 Snowalyzer 2000, but we spent the extra cash and sprung for the 2001. It also makes snowcones. It's just been sittin' in the corner of the lab for months, right next to the Alexander The Great-alyzer. Uh-huh...

I think I'll call back and tell him to make sure he keeps the snow on ice. Otherwise it will melt and that would be catastrophic. Better yet, I should tell him if he takes it off the ice, it will spoil!

This is our media, folks...

The Mitchell Report: What a Bunch of Dopes!

Wow. Cycling isn't the only sport where people dope? Have you guys read the Mitchell Report, the investigation of steroid use in baseball?

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2007/1213071mitchell1.html

It's big. Like, hundreds of pages long. I think it's on Report Growth Hormone.

The thing I am most struck with is the clumsiness of the players. Either these guys are extremely brazen or just flat-out not too bright. I'm gonna go with the latter of the two.

I'm not the sleaziest of guys. But, I understand the need to protect what butters your bread. Many of the players named in the report didn't do the league minimum in that department.

So, here's a list of "dopey moves" made by the dopers and how a person with minimal common sense could have acted a little differently and possibly kept their name off this document.

Dopey Move #1: Don't pay for illegal stuff with a check.

The Mitchell report shows photocopies of the checks some players wrote for steroids. Can you say bus-ted! I think they'll have a hard time explaining why they wrote a check for thousands of dollars to a person charged with distribution of steroids. It sure as hell wasn't for girl scout cookies. Sheesh! I'm surprised they didn't write "steroids" on the memo line.

Pay cash, dummies!

Dopey Move #2: Don't let people you don't trust inject your heiney with steroids.

Other damning info arose from cooperative witnesses who actually injected the steroids in the buttocks of the players.

Have a friend stick you in the ass. Isn't that what friends are for? If I were a pro athlete on illegal substances, I'd sneak them home and let my wife stick me. Hell, she'd probably even like it.

and finally...

Dopey Move #3: Don't brag about your steroid use to everyone.

I think this is self explanatory. Well, maybe I should explain further in case any pro ball players are reading this: No talky 'bout roidys!

It's going to be interesting to see all the defenses flying in the face of what seems to be a "caught red-handed" situation.

What excuses will they use? Maybe we'll see the high school one: "Ummm...I bought it for a friend and I was holding it for him!"

People pay a lot of money to see these guys perform with their bodies. So, enhancing their performance with muscle-building, nut-shrinking juice is flat-out fraud.

I think they should let these guys come back and play. But, they should have to hit or throw a ball that is four times the weight of a regular baseball.

That would rock.

Holiday Failure 101

I'm getting a slow start on the holidays this year. So slow that I haven't started. I haven't shopped and I haven't decorated.

I'm so far behind, I feel liberated. A lot of folks I know are very stressed out right now because they have shopped, wrapped, trimmed, party-planned and baked their way into a cardiac infarction.

It's so much easier to give up. Come on, I'll show you how!

Screw Light Bulbs

It used to be my job to put up lights outside. I resigned. Holy cannoli, my neighbors go crazy on this stuff. They put up so many lights I don't feel it's worthwhile to even compete. You can see my neighbors houses from the space shuttle. Dayton Power and Light just completed construction on a brand new coal-fired generation plant just to power my street. As we speak, the employees there are staring at dials all pegged to the right and high-fiving each other.

I have a string of lights. They are the old fashioned green, blue and red kind. Nobody uses them anymore, including me. These lights stand up to a lot of harsh conditions including sleet, rain and snow. However, their real weak point is their ability conduct electricity from one bulb to the other. If it wasn't for that, they would be grand. My string of lights is about 50 feet long and there's maybe a 2 foot section in the middle that actually light up. So, instead of doing something festive, like decorating the door on the mailbox, I gave up.


Shop at a Mall That Is Next Door To Your Favorite Bar

I tried to shop at the mall the other day. After encountering many parking spaces that were already pre-parked-in for my holiday convenience, I finally infiltrated the mall through one of the ritzy department stores. At this point I was surrounded and attacked by women in wearing lab coats and makeup 3 inches deep. They were carrying bottles of fragrances in holsters under the lab coats. These new and exciting fragrances have creepy names like "Restraining Order" by Calvin Klein and "Aneurysm" by Christian Dior. The lab coat ladies were macing people with them. These blasts produce a toxic atmosphere consisting of 21 parts oxygen and 79 parts perfume. So, I turned tail and fled. The ladies in the lab coats chased me, but I lost them by hiding under a clothing rack and standing still until they went away.

I went outside for a whiff of fresh air and saw my favorite bar. So, the rest of my evening was decided. Hell if I'm going to pollute myself, I'd rather it be with pints of beer than volatile organic coumpounds.

I will try again another day.

Ho ho ho.

Horoscope

My horoscope for today:

Mars will make itself felt today now that the negative aspect from Uranus has gone. You’ll be full of beans and bouncing with enthusiasm, but you’d do well to channel some of that surplus into something definite, otherwise you could find that you’ll squander those energies!

So, I guess I'm wondering how one can be full of beans and yet not feel the negative aspect from Uranus.

You knew that was coming, right?

Trainer Time

Today, the roads have ice on them and the temperature is like absolute zero. That's nerdspeak for "really cold".

So, I am relegated to ride my trainer in my garage.

I need to tell my all friends about "trainer time". That way, both of you will understand what a horrible transition this is for the cycleaholic.

Immense Boredom Makes It's Yearly Visit

Monday, I rode my bike in to work. I have the cool air in my face. I saw an albino squirrel. I saw two female deer so close up I had to yell at them to get out of my way. Then, close to the air force base I saw two fighter jets take off escorting a large, white passenger jet. Ostensibly, this was Air Force 1 or Air Force 2. Maybe it was Air Force Pi. I dunno, but it looked important and exciting.

Now I'm stuck looking at a garage door.

Sweat Becomes Me

Then, there's the sweat factor. Holy cannoli, I sweat on the trainer. I do not sweat a tenth the amount when I ride outside. It must be a combination of the cooling factor of the air moving past you and the ginzo factor of being italian. I drip all over the place and it's disgusting. Even when it's 10 degrees in the garage, I sweat like Ryan Seacrest watching Brokeback Mountain.

A Man's Obsessive Compulsion Is In Peril

I set a personal goal to ride, 9,000 miles in 2008. On December 1st, I was at 8,188. I don't count trainer miles. Largely, because you log no miles when you are going zero miles per hour. It's going to be a close call for me to make my goal. I rode like 8,700 last year. So, maybe a secondary goal will be to try and beat myself. I will have to wait until the snow melts first. Then I thing the last year me will have passed the this year me. So, I will have to work hard to try and catch myself.

On The Brighter Side

I probably won't fall and I heat the garage up a couple of degrees. I was hoping to list some more positive things here but I'm drawing a big blank.

Time to hit the sweatshop.

Tailwinds to you all. Or, maybe not today.

Tales From The Potty

I just went potty.

But wait, there's more!

When other people are in there are going doo-doo, why is everyone else so much slower than me? Like, what are they doing in there? Am I missing any steps? After my bike ride to work and my daily Starbucks, my colon tells me it's "showtime" and there is no arguing that point. I can get my business done in like, 3 minutes. So, why is the dude in the stall next to me taking so long? What's going on in there? I should peek my head over and ask. On the other hand, maybe peeking my head under would be more private. It's the same say with ATM's. I always get behind someone who is setting up an IRA account or somethin'.

Actually, it's not like ATM's that much because ATM's are much cleaner and you don't have to pull your pants down, most of the time.

So, back to bathroom stuff. Why do some dudes not use the urinals and then go in the stalls and stand and spray pee all over the seat? I understand the "shy bladder" thing. Then hey, lift the damn seat, huh? I'm gonna go out on a limb and say there's a reason for shyness and it has something to do with the "sprayer" not being very close to the target, if you now what I mean. How about just close the door and sit down? Nobody's gonna know. They'll just think you're a quick doo-doo-er like me.

You know what's embarassing? When you come in to use the urinal in a public bathroom and there's some other dudes there. So, you pick a urinal far away from them because you always have to have the "buffer urinal" so no one things you're gay. Then more dudes with full bladders arrive and all the urinals fill up. But everyone else gets done first and then the only two left are you and the guy next to you. That's sorta uncomfortable for me. Sometimes I feel like I should ease the tension by introducing myself and shaking the guy's hand or something. But, there's no way to wash my hand first, so I don't.

I'm almost done. I hope none of you were eating lunch. This is too much information, isn't it. Damn the torpedoes! I ain't quittin' now.

My favorite bathroom memory: There was a year when I attended the same elementary school as my brothers. My brother's class had a "potty break" at the same time I did. At home my brother always pulled his pants down to his knees to go pee. I guess he didn't know you aren't supposed to do that in public. So, when I walked by to exit the bathroom, I saw all these young boys lined up at the urinal and my brother along with them. But my brother stood out from the rest because his pants were pulled down to his knees and his bare ass was showing. How cute is that? I won't say which brother it was in case they read this. And, they are bigger than me.

Okay, I think I'm empty now. I mean on thoughts. Well actually in many ways.

Take care of each other in there.

Bye.

So You Want To Climb Mt. St. Helens?

I'm doin' it with my best buddy Feb 2nd. I mean climbing Mt. St. Helens you perverts! We were supposed to climb Mt. Hood. But, I have no mountaineering experience and I don't want to be the newbie dill-hole that gets us all killed. So, we downgraded to St. Helens this year. Next year, maybe Hood.

Since all truth is found on the Internet, I tried to inform myself on this matter. I found a web site that has enlightened me. Maybe, too much.

So You Want To Climb Mount St. Helens?

Hell yeah!

Ummmm...are those people higher than clouds? I'm afraid of heights. I have a hard time cleaning my gutters. Would this be a problem?

Mount St. Helens is an active volcano in southwest Washington State and the central feature of the Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument.

A-a-active volcano? What if it erupts? Nah, it would never erupt. And if it does, it's just "duck and cover", right?

Most climbers use the Monitor Ridge Route from Climbers Bivouac. This route gains 4,500 feet in five miles to the crater rim at 8,365 feet elevation. Most climbers complete the round trip in seven to twelve hours.

4,500 feet elevation over 5 miles, which is 5,280 feet times five is 26,400 linear feet, or 17 % grade = me a total idiot for saying yes to this and buying plane tickets.

While climbing to the crater rim is permitted, entry into the crater is strictly prohibited.

If I make it up there alive, I'm going to bring a beer and drink it up there. I need way more than one beer before I enter any thing's crater.

Pray for me.

TP

The newswires are buzzing with all sorts of news about toilet paper.

Sadly, the world mourns the loss of Mr. Whipple.

Now everybody's gonna squeeze the friggin' Charmin.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20071119/tv_nm/whipple_dc

And then, this!

http://abcnews.go.com/Video/playerIndex?id=3935334&affil=wkef

This was a total smear campaign.

She was on a roll.

Bye.

Coyotes

On my ride to work today, I saw a coyote. I came within 50 feet of him. Thought he was a dog until I saw the pointy ears and bushy tail. He was pretty big. Maybe he has already put his winter coat on.

Oh yeah, that reminds me; a couple of weeks ago, I was going to bed very late. I peeked out the front window of my house and I saw a coyote walking by. We have some living in the field behind my house. This particular coyote is quite the suburbanite because he was walking down the sidewalk.

Thank you for choosing to read this post. Have a nice day.

Turkey Stuff

What the hell are giblets?

Every year I clean out the inside of the turkey gut and I find two things; a little thing that looks like a colostomy bag (giblets) and the turkey neck.

So, first things first. In terms of turkey anatomy, what are the giblets? If a turkey said to another turkey "man, that ground ball hit me right in the giblets!" where would he mean? Would he in fact, be a "he" in order to have giblets? Or do female turkeys also have giblets?

What do you call a male or female turkey?

And why do we need the turkey neck? I know turkeys have very well muscled necks. In nature, this is very useful as it allows them to walk like Chuck Berry. This is probably a mating thing because chicks dig guys who play guitar, and have big...beaks. But, back to my original point; what do we, the turkey consumer, use the neck for? A lady I visit at the nursing home says it's for making soup. Have any of you had turkey neck soup? If you offered someone "turkey neck soup" the moment they walked in your door do honestly think they would try it?

My theory is that the company who slaughters the turkeys wants us to feel like we're getting a good deal. So, they throw these things in as extras. Kinda like the toy surprise in a box of cheerios, except much more disgusting.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Good news for New Jersey squirrel eaters

NEW YORK (AFP) - Squirrel eaters in the US state of New Jersey have been told that the bushy-tailed rodents are likely safe to eat, after earlier being advised the unlikely delicacies could contain toxic metals.

The New Jersey Division of Fish and Wildlife describes squirrel as "good table fare," offering recipes for squirrel chowder, stew and barbecue.

Hell yeah! I'm so relieved.

Those are three things that go hand in hand; toxic metal, New Jersey and squirrels! I could really go for a squirrel sandwich right now. I like 'em with the tail still on. That's the only way to go...

Dayton, OH is 18th most dangerous city. Woot!

It's time for the 7th annual Most Dangerous Cities List.

And the winner is...

*machine gun blasts to simulate drumroll*

Detroit Michigan!

My current place of employment, Dayton, Ohio, came home 18th this year according to the Morgan Quinto Awards.

Am I proud of this? Well, it does make me feel like tough guy every time I make it back from walking to the post office. But otherwise, no, I don't feel good about it. In fact, I feel very un-good about it.

So, because I'm also writing this for AC and I get paid small amounts of money if I answer specific questions, it then leads me to wonder: "How can my city improve it's ranking?" and "How can I write about this in more than 400 words?". These questions burn deep in me like a pit of fire or some other analogy that might get me to 400 words more easily.

Well, I have some very, very innovative ideas about how Dayton can improve it's ranking next year. If these ideas are implemented, it will surely nudge it's way downward to pass Richmond, Va. (a.k.a "goodie-goodie land"). Moreover, it will easily require me 400 words or more to explain because I just drank 3 beers.

Reverse Panhandling: Have you ever walked through downtown Dayton and been approached by panhandlers asking for some extra change? This is caused by a term I call "economic desperation". That means people are desperate. Economically. This is the type of feeling one has when he/she has no money and it leads to violent offenses such as robberies, muggings, assualts, drive-by shootings, eggings, thefts and many other crimes that might get me above 400 words more easily.

But imagine with me now: what if the process were reversed? What if employees of the city approached these desperate people asking them if they needed spare change? I call this reverse panhandling or "RP". I think RP would lead these desperate people to lead much happier lives and moreover, might encourage other like-minded people to move to Dayton!

Another derivative of RP includes reverse prostitution. However, this idea will not be discussed here because it has the same acronym as reverse panhandling and all nifty ideas must have their own unique acronym.

Be Nicer: Unsubstantiated studies have shown that violent criminals are not nice people. Have you ever thought that maybe this is because no one was nice to them in the first place? The next time you see someone about to rob a bank (you'll recognize them because they will be wearing a ski mask or one of those "Groucho Marx" glasses, nose and mustache kits), go up and give them a hug. I bet you they will abort mission, right then and there!

Talk to People Who Are Talking To Themselves: Many city dwelling folk carry on conversations with themselves. Talk to them. That way they won't get in an argument with themselves, which could lead to violent crime.

And there you have it. Go Dayton!

Now, can I have a dollar, man?

Gym Dude

I was at the weight room today and there's some dude doing the buddy system with a lady 70 or so years of age. He also seems to be pushing her a bit too hard: "You can handle more weight than that".

* Strike one. Be gentle and treat old timers with respect *

He's talking loudly in the super-mp3 player decibel range and he's telling her everything she's doing wrong: "That's not how you stretch the hamstrings, you have to let the muscle fibers extend fully and then let them contract again!". Hah?

* Strike two. Don't broadcast yourself and be a show off. *

The clincher? Dude's shaped like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

* Strike three. Pushing Twinkies does not make you an expert in the gym. *

I Be Illin'

I've been invaded.
Could be something I ate?
Something got deep inside me
and chose to replicate.

You don't have a nucleus,
but I still respect you.
You make my throat scratchy
and loosen my poo.

You tighten my stomach,
and make me want to hurl,
and you killed all the martians
in War of the Worlds.

How can I defeat you?
I feel such dismay!
I'm so much bigger
than DNA or RNA!

I have a solution
I know what I'll do!
I'll dispatch Killer T Cells,
and then pity da fools!

I fight you, I fight you!
I know I shall win!
Cus, I'm still undefeated
against bio-pathogens!

TMBG @ Southgate

Holy Cannolli. I went to the best show of my life Tuesday night.

It took me this long to recover and to sort out all the crazy thoughts. It's been two days an I'm still thinking about it.

First of all, it was my favorite band, They Might Be Giants. If you ever have a chance to see them, go. Even if you think they are obnoxious, which many people do. They are such showmen. Second, go see a show at Southgate House in Newport, KY. It's a venue that just exudes charm and is very intimate.

So, what happened? Everything went perfect. My date was a hot brunette named Kristen who stayed sober enough to drive us back. I capitalized on that. I wore my "Tin Man" shirt and my lucky socks. What could possibly go wrong?




I've seen TMBG several times, but I was floored to see that this time they brought a full set of horns! This changed the dynamic completely, enabling them to play some of my faves such as "Museum of Idiots", "Dr. Worm" (the right way), "Spy" and "With the Dark".



Towards the end of the show, John Flansburg comes out with a Bass Drum and he and Linnell performed "Whisteling in the Dark" while modestly threatening members of the close by crowd...




Phone calls from the dead, two encores, Particle Man. I'm at a loss for words.

*For once*

It was awesome.

Bye.

Yay for Bingo-Town!

Yeah boyyyyyyyy!

Hooray for my hometown.

http://www.pierogypocket.com/

They allowed one vote per computer per day. I have access to lots of computers at work. That's all I'm sayin'...

*I stuffed the ballot box like it was a potato & cheddar*

$10,000? That's a lot of "dough". Could buy you a house in Binghamton!

Arf arf!

Farewell Racing Season '07

The 2007 season ended for me with Son of Godzulla, a 75 mile 100 bike, chilly weather hill-fest.

http://www.godzulla.com/

What a weird day, quite blog-worthy. I feel the need to talk about the race and the party separately. Cyclists will be able to tolerate my blabbing about the race. Party folk will like the second part. Partying cyclists might make it through the whole thing.

Race:

We start at 8am from Woodland Mound Park in Cincinnati. It starts and finishes from the same point; a gigantic 1 mile hill (hors category) to the entrance of the park. The race starts with a 30 mile flat portion and the last 45 miles is peppered with back-breaking climbs, none the least of which, the finishing climb into the park.

Weird thing #1: Some dude crashed in the first mile.

The race organizer, Scott (a.k.a. Godzulla) declared the first couple of miles "neutral" so we could get down the hill and through the point where the cop had traffic blocked off. So, since we weren't racing yet, we took it easy down the hill. Well, most of us did anyway. Some goofballs were bombing it. That's not a good idea because there is a sharp 90 degree left hand turn near the bottom. While I was descending, I see some guy bomb past me with the sharp turn approaching. "Easy", I told him. He then proceeded to jam on his brakes, lock up his rear wheel and bit the dust, hard. I took the inside line and avoided him. He looked okay and so I kept riding. But, he tacoed his wheel and that was the end of his day. That must have felt good.

Weird thing #2: The pro showed up, and he hurt us.

Actually, the "hurt us" part isn't so weird. Kirk Albers usually comes to this event and makes it a sort of pro-am. Kirk rode for Jelly Belly many years and now rides for Texas Roadhouse. I think he's bionic.

After the flat portion and a mandatory and very public "we have so many people you can't do nothing about it" roadside pee-break, we hit Thomas hill, which has a portion that kicks up to 28%. After this climb I was able to hang with Kirk and two other riders from Huntington Bank. This soon became 15 or so riders and before long we left the rest of the peleton in our dust.

Each successive climb acted like a distillation, selecting out the weaker climbers. By the time we had grunted through three tough climbs and 35 more miles , I was happy to see it was me, Kirk (holy shit, I hung with Kirk!), two riders from Huntington and a former teammate, Justin. We worked together in a paceline with Kirk dictating his bionic man pace of 25+ mph.

About 10 miles from the finish and on the second climb from the finish, Kirk Albers decides to declare Jihad on us. In the middle of the climb, he just stood up and took off. After the climb, he kept stomping out a insane pace and we just watched him get smaller and smaller and he rode away in the distance. The four of us remaining encouraged each other to work in a paceline and catch him. We thought we could reel him in, but as it turns out, Kirk just stayed out there in the distance, looking as small as a Jelly Belly Jelly Bean. We gave up the chase and he ended up smoking us by four minutes. We decided the four of us were racing for second place. Hey, what can we say? The guy's a pro.

Now, Justin and I are riding with the two Huntington guys, who are teammates. This makes Justin and I sitting ducks. I'm just waiting for them to work together and light us up with an attack. It never happened. The stronger Huntington guy, John talked about his legs feeling crampy, Justin was hanging his head. I was feeling okay and only mildly intoxicated by lactic acid. Maybe, if I was smart, I could snag second...

Wierd thing #3: I attacked early and it (sort of) worked.

We rode a moderate pace and approached the left hand turn to the last mile up the gigundo hill to the finish. We all congratulated each other on a good ride, shared some sort of "see you at the top" salutation and geared down for the climb. I looked John and see he's goofing around with his water bottle. I decide to give it everything I had and in a slow-twitch fit of rage, I almost busted nut sprinting up the first part of the hill. I overhear John say "what's he doing?" and then "Let's go boys". They chased me about half way up the climb, drew me in a bit and then got no closer. Just then, Justin, Mr. Head-Hangin' faker-boy goes dieseling right past me. I tried to make a run on him but he got me at the finish by a few meters.

The turncoat bastard. :) It's all fun. No worries.

I came home third. I was more than happy with that result. Justin is a stud cat 1 and as I've already stated, Kirk Albers is the Bionic Man. I'm content to finish behind them.

This ended a great season for me. And, it makes a guy very thirsty. Which leads to the next portion of my lil' story.

Post-Race Party:

Ever go to a party that made you not feel as strange as you thought you were because there were people there who were much more messed up than you are? It was that kind of party. The race organizer, Scott, is a rather strange fellow. There was a pig head and a goat head displayed on the picnic table. They both ended up being tossed around by drunk people and then made it's way into the campfire in some sort of burnt offering type ritual. There was a statuette of a fertility god.

Lots of outlandish food. I ate a chicken foot. I ate goat meat. I ate antelope or somethin' or ruther. And, what's even more gross...I ate a hot dog.

It's safe to say I was also over-served in the alcohol department. I hung and drank with my teammates for a long time. Had to have some "quiet time" in the car to recover did I.

Yep. I'm discovering that this part was a blur. Kinda makes it hard to blog about. So, I'll just say it was fun, thanks for reading and have a nice day.



Tailwinds!

Bulls NOT Shit!

Look at my alma mater University of Buffalo Bulls:

http://www.mac-sports.com/SportSelect.dbml?DB_OEM_ID=9400&SPID=3802

They are all growed up now. Maybe I was too hard on them back in August. If they win 2 out of 3 of their remaining games, They will probably win the Mid American Conference East division and clinch a birth in a low-profile bowl game, like maybe the Toilet Duck™ Toitey Bowl.

I'm still not giving them any money when they call to beg me, even though my roomate and my brother played for them back during what I will call my "cloudy period" of 1989 thru 1991. I'm still holding a grudge about a parking ticket.

Go Bulls!

That'll jinx 'em for sure.

Nickle and Dime

Yesterday, I found out my department was awarded a $45,000 project to renovate a lab.

Today, I found 15 cents on the floor.

Guess which one I'm more excited about?

I keep a jar in my closet that has all the money I've ever found in my adult life.

I throw away folders that have lab renovation project stuff in them.

I do not, however, keep a jar with all the money I've ever lost in it. That would be pretty hard to do.

I feel myself rambling. So, I think I'll end this blog, right now.

No...now, I'll end it!

Bye.

OK, now I'm done.

Hallo-weenie

Tonight is "Beggar's Night" in my neighborhood.

That's Ohio for "Halloween".

I live in kiddie heaven, an area where birth control is not practiced or even thought of. You can barely drive down the street on Halloween because it is completely flooded with giggly, sugar-high, costume-wearin' bed wetters. It's an event with a great deal of community involvement. The teenagers use this occasion to dress provocatively and test their sluttiness. The parents dress up too. Like the middle-aged mom who thought that Wonder Woman costume was a good idea. *shiver*

My role in this? I'm the designated "guy who sits on the porch, conceals a beer and hands out the candy when the kids come by so he doesn't have to keep answering the doorbell...guy". I sit there, sip when no one is looking and hand out Twix bars in mass quanity.

*Mmmm...Twix*

I know, I'm health conscious. But it's a holiday. I'm not gonna be that guy who gives out apples or popcorn balls.

Anyhow, for the last two years I've had a problem. He's about 13 years old. Two years ago he took me by surprise. After I gave him and his buddies a healthy dose of Twix, this kid shoves his pillow case back at me and says "Can I have more? My Mom has Cancer".

I about shit myself with anger. I know that if his mom really did have cancer, he would never say that. But I was so stunned, all I could do was reply "That's not a nice thing to say" and he walked away.

So, last year, even though I don't remember what he looks like, I'm waiting for this little ass clown. Wouldn't you believe he comes by and says the same thing again:

"My mom has cancer". *keeps holding sack out*

That time, I reached in the bag and took out a handful of candy (even more than I gave him) and I sort of lost it and snapped: "Get the hell out of here! If your mom had cancer, you would never say that!".

He walks away and as his voice cracks, I hear him tell his buddies: "did you see that guy took my candy?"

I still managed to feel bad about it, because the kid just doesn't understand. His young life has obviously never been touched by someone who has had cancer.

But he'll understand someday. Hopefully a long time from now.

Be very afraid, little punk...

...of me tonight, and of cancer, for the rest of your life.

Alabama Getaway 2.0

Hey ya'll,

Just sayin' Yo from the hoppin' town of Evergreen, AL!

This trip was sort of thrown together with the idea of spending some (probably final) quality time with my grandmother. She is a very influential figure in my life who at 94 has not been herself since she broke her hip a little while ago.

I came down here with my Dad and my brother and I am happy to report that I have not killed either of them...yet.

I'm not so happy to report that my grandmother didn't know me today. The nurse claims it could be "Sundowners Syndrome" and I'm hoping her noodle is more functional tomorrow morning.

I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear that I brought my bike down here and I plan to log some quality saddle time. I also have not eaten a single thing today that was even close to resembling a fruit or vegetable and this is making me feel like a turd.

More when I can...

Tailwinds!

Ode To Slow-Ass Mrs. T

The voting has ended
all as of last night
the votes are all cast
on Mrs. T's web site.

I logged in this morning
to see who was crowned
as the pierogy capital.
I hoped for Bingotown.

So, I was disappointed
when I did take a peek
no capital will be anointed
for three friggin' weeks!

I reacted with anger
and then with dismay.
I could not find reason
for such a delay!

Why you gotta do me
like that Mrs. T?
This pierogy election
is so important to me!

And then it occurred to me
it sank in right quick
they must be teaching Florida
to learn to right-click!

Today Is The Anniversary...

...of my being expelled from my mother's uterus!

yay!

Let me re-create for you the events of 39 years ago...

Doctor: "Push Bettye, push!"

Mick: "Waaaaaaaa!"

Nurse: "Uh, I think it's a boy...I can't tell because it's so small"

And then, life became much more complicated for Mike and Bettye.

Thanks Mike and Bettye, for doing all that naughty stuff that give me a life.

Son Of Godzulla

I am putting in a lot of saddle time for a beer party called Son of Godzulla in which is in 13 days.


It's preceded by a 78 mile, road race which is laden with 20% climbs, the like you can only find down by the river southeast of cincy.

It's run by the coolest race promoter ever. And because it's the end of the year and USA Cycling doesn't sanction it, there's no points at stake. So, there's kind of a "no holds barred" mentality with people screwing each other over at every opportunity because everybody hopes the long winter will allow people to forget what's taken place and there's no race next week, so no chance for retribution.

Like last year, when I got pimped at the line for 3rd by Eric from Revolution cycling. I totally forgot that. Especially after I led the pace up the last climb to the finish...uh huh.

And because I had to leave early, I got to miss my friend Todd puke after he did too many shots of Jagermeister at the post-race party.

Did I mention that, Jagermeister is not very highly recommended post-race beverage? And that most cyclists drink like 10-year-olds? Except me. I like me some beer after a long ride. Like right now for example. Where else do you think these blog thoughts come from?

Anyhow, I'm gonna try to not make the same mistakes this year. Okay?

See ya in 13 days, Eric...and Todd. :)

Token Blog

This blog isn't really about anything. It is a stop-gap measure designed to bridge between blogs of a more meaningful nature. I have stuff coming up in my life that I can blog about. But, they haven't happened yet or I haven't formed any concrete thoughts about these things. So, I'm blogging this blog because I don't want to interrupt the stream of attention I get from the 28 people who might read this. I wasn't breast fed when I was a baby and this might have something to do with it.

So, please read this. And, maybe post a comment telling me how nice I am, how funny I am or about my sexy tush? That way I won't have to run out to the drug store and buy a pack of Playtex nipples to suck on.

Thank you.

Look What I Got...

for Boss's Day!

Serving Suggestion

What the hell does this mean?

Like, when you look on the side of a box of Rice-A-Roni and it shows a picture of the Rice-A-Roni lookin' all fluffy and lovely and for some reason it states "suggested serving" or "serving suggestion"?

See? I scanned the box just for you:

Okay, are people so helpless and unimaginative that we need this kind of direction and the food company or food box-maker people are just looking to help us out? I wouldn't have thought to arrange my Rice-A-Roni on a plate and daintily stick a fork into it? Actually, that's not my stylie. I'm more of a spoon guy. But it was great suggestion!

Using that special process called "looking", I have taken a notice of this practice. After much data taking, I submit to you that it won't say "serving suggestion" if the picture on the package is a drawing. It's gotta be a photo. This must keep people from accidentally ingesting cartoon green beans, or somethin'. Once I saw a can of carrots that showed a photo of the carrots sort of magically hanging in the air and it said "serving suggestion". Now how the hell am I gonna pull that off!?

When I used to not watch NASCAR, I bought a can of beans that was the special NASCAR edition. I guess NASCAR and baked beans have a long, storied partnership. I fell for the marketing ploy and bought the special edition can because like...hey, race car beans, man! This can showed a picture of Tony Stewart hoisting over his big, fat head the Winston cup, or Nextel cup, Piston cup, whatever the hell cup...cup on the front. I would have scanned this for you, but I ate the beans and round cans will roll off my scanner. Anyhow, the photo of Tony took up the whole front of the can and there were no beans to be seen. But the can said "serving suggestion", which means we should eat Tony? Or maybe...oh yeah! There were beans in the big trophy cup and we just can't see them? Always celebrate a victory with a nice, big trophy full-o-beans, I say. If I win a race again I gotta try that.

I'm rambling and it might have something to do with the fact that I rode 62 miles and chased it with three serving suggestions of beer in orange cans. So, since the beer and endorphins are doing most of the talking today I'll try to summarize:

• What's up with the whole "serving suggestion" thing on food packages and why do packages of food need to be so suggestive?
  
• How cum if it's a cartoon it doesn't count? Let's say Lightning McQueen was holding up the Piston Cup on a can of beans, and simply due to the fact that he's an animated-american, he's not eligible to be a serving suggestion. That's not fair and it pisses me off.


• My Rice-A-Roni is probably burning and I have to go now.


• Bye
  
  

I Pity Da Fool Dat Don't Vote!

It is that time when we, the inhabitants of this democratic society must mobilize. Our collective voices must be heard. Soon, we must all cast our ballot...

for the Mrs. T's Capital of the Pierogy Pocket of America.

Potato & cheddar? Potato & Onion? It doesn't matter your affiliation! Even members of the green party (Sauerkraut) should empower themselves.

But as a staunch Potato & Cheddar-o-crat, I'll show my cards and announce that I highly endorse my hometown of Binghamton, N.Y. Just take a read of their Peirogy Pride Proclamation. It's nothing short of inspiring.

It does not matter how you vote. What does matter is that your voice is heard. This country was founded on our freedom to wrap stuff in dough and fry it in oil. So, get out there and vote! And do it NOW! Eastern European-Americans need you!

http://www.pierogypocket.com/vote_form.aspx?AspxAutoDetectCookieSupport=1

Make Mr. and Mrs. T proud.

*This message was paid for by the Vote for Binghamton, N.Y. for Pierogy Pocket of America Campaign Committee*

This Is Such a Bunch of...Well...You Know...

I'm so pissed right now!

I've been hornswoggled! I've had enough steroid scandal. This whole Chinese thing had my morale so low, and now this.

Check it out, partner:

Bulls, not riders, under steroids cloud in bull riding

The steroids scandals have claimed the latest and perhaps most unlikely suspect yet.
The sport of bull riding may start drug testing some of its athletes – not the riders, the bulls.
As if the four-legged beasts that weigh up to 2,200 pounds don't have enough testosterone, some bull owners allegedly are injecting the animals with anabolic steroids.

"Oh, I think damn near everybody's doing it," said Jerry Nelson, one of the sport's top bull owners. "It ain't going to slow down. It's just like baseball, football, whatever. It's not going to slow down until you legislate (against) it."

Well...hot spit on the griddle! I feel so betrayed. Right on the heels of watching my favorite Bull Rider (Bubba McTwinklediddy), win the Shitkicker Invitational, I hear about all of this scandal in my favoritest sport ever; PBR (Professional Bull Riding). Bulls on Steroids. Who woulda thunk it? They would never give an animal steroids...right?

Now I gots to trade in my belt buckle. And my iron-on T-shirt.

I don't know what to believe in no more.

I think the Big O is Too Big

I must question the "organic" food movement!

I've been thinking about organic food and I gotta say, I think in some cases, it boils down to being a status symbol or just food for rich folk.

Take bananas (but not mine please). If bananas are sprayed with pesticide, does it matter if you remove the peel anyway? Maybe. And I gotta admit, the working conditions might be better for the average organic banana worker than the ones dealing with large amounts of chemicals. Organic banana workers have to trim weeds with machetes and go around shoo-ing bugs off the plants manually. And nowadays banana shoo-ers probably want full dental and medical.

So, maybe this extra banana-intensive labor makes organic bananas like 50% more expensive. And it's your choice if you want to go that route. It's just not a choice that I believe in fully. Back in 1987, my body had more chemicals and radiation thrown at it than Bruce Banner and I'm still here. *face twitch* And, I don't ruin blue jeans when I get mad or nothin'.

Then there's synthetic food additives. I'm pretty good friends with these. Have you ever tried to eat "real" peanut butter? I think I still have some stuck to the roof of my mouth! So, if you're just asking me, hydrogenate the sucka. But only partially, please.

Xanthan Gum? Bring it on. Polysorbate 80? You bet. FD&C Yellow #5? Give me some zig zags and I'll smoke dat shit.

And I'm way more comfortable with my veggies being fertilized by anyhydrous ammonia than I am eating stuff that's been buried under cow poop.

So, give me all the synthetic fertilizers and food additives you want, and give 'em to me now! It's the natural stuff that scares me!

* Mmmm...anyhydrous ammonia... *

Proof That Packaging Sells

1987 was the last time I drank a Miller High Life. Road trip to Potsdam, NY. I remember (parts of it) as if it were yesterday. Great time. Bad beer.

I just bought a 30-pack of "The Champagne of Beers". Here's why:




How cool are these? And how gullible and easily amused am I?

It's like drinkin' lil' jack-o-lanterns!

*Homer Simpson voice*

Mmmm....beer filled jack-o-lantern...

Package for Mr. Dong

To help finance my bike habit, I sell cycling apparel on eBay. I send stuff all over the world.

Sometimes when I'm addressing the packages, I have myself a good chuckle.

Like today for example...

John Hyung Dong
Wang Chun Goo, Mok Il Dong 916
Hyperion 101 Dong 520 Ho
Seoul 158-724
South Korea

That's just too damn funny.

I changed a few digits to protect the guy's privacy. He's got enough problems going through life as Mr. "Hyung Dong".

Red Roids

We are finally cracking down on the roids in sports. In other countries, sports are more about honor. Oops, I mean "honour". Here, sports are about money. But, the tide is slowly turning. The WWE just suspended 10 wrasslers because the use of steroids. They was making them do mean things, like hit each other with folding chairs.

Then there's this:

US announces largest steroid bust in history


WASHINGTON - Over 120 people were arrested in an 18-month international investigation of illicit steroid labs, the Drug Enforcement Administration announced Monday.

The DEA said the wide-ranging probe dubbed Operation Raw Deal was assisted by foreign governments in nine countries including China and led to the seizure of 56 laboratories in the United States for manufacturing anabolic steroids and human growth hormone (HGH).

Investigators seized over 500 pounds of raw powder originating in China and used to manufacture steroids. "China really stepped up to the plate to help us in this investigation," DEA spokesman Garrison Courtney said in Washington.

Stay the hell away from Chinese steroids. I hear whenever you take a shot of those in the ass, you just want another shot in the ass an hour later.

And if you do partake, always ask for "no MSG" in your HGH.

Simon Says "Look at This!"

My four year old daughter had something she needed to get off her chest yesterday:

Daughter: "Daddy?"

Mike: "Yes Sweetie?"

Daughter: "At preschool, Simon came out of the baff-room with no pants and underwear on and he came up and showed me his pee-pee".

Mike: "Oh really?"

Daughter: "Yeah, and it was all curly and inside-outed".

Mike: "Do you like Simon?"

Daughter: "No."

Mike: "Good!"

Thank you Simon, for enlightening my daughter. Enjoy while what you did was still legal. Grow some hair down there it will be a much different story.

Ah....as if I need more to think about, I can now pinpoint the exact date my daughter saw her first penis. I'll always remember that.

Because we Italians never forget. Ya little pervert bastard!

Cycling is Such a Glamorous Sport

Just look at the cool shorts I bought today:

Now break into small groups and discuss...

What/when to call me

Question of the week: "Mike, what should I call you?"

So here are detailed instructions on what you should or should not call me. I even threw a "when to call me" in there at absolutely no charge.

I love it when:

• I'm doing business at some sort of retail establishment and a female server, cashier, clerk or bartender addresses me with an endearing term such as "hun", "sweetie-pie" or most recently (must be in season or something)..."pumpkin".

I like it when:

• A black guy calls me "brother".


• Anyone I know well calls me Mick or Mike. It doesn't matter which. Usually the one you start with is the one I prefer.


• My teammates call me a "hammer" or a "billy goat".


• People call me at work, because I am bored, lonely or need to truncate a conversation with someone who has grown roots at my desk.

I do not like it when:

• A white guy calls me "brother".


• Students call me "Sir", "Mr. ____" or "Professor _____". That makes me feel weird, like I have a slice of baloney in each shoe.


• Anyone calls me "Dude", especially if they are female.


• Someone who has already established my name by calling me Mick or Mike, switches it from Mike to Mick, or Mick to Mike. That's corn-fusing and throws the entire universe off it's axis.

I hate it when:

• Someone calls me something I don't believe I am, especially; "egotistical" or "closed-minded".

Because I am Not Very Mature...

...I give the person at the local Starbucks a bogus name every time I order my morning fu-fu latte drink. They have this new policy where they write your name on your cup and call it out loud when it's ready.

So, this is amusing to me. It's like I get to be a different goofily-named person every day. Like, just this week I was:

Monday: Vito
Tuesday: Smedley
Wednesday: Jeb
Today: Bif

Jeb and Bif were really a big hit. Since a couple of the workers know me, they seem to get a kick out of it. This is a relief to me because I used to worry they thought it was a pain in the ass. So, it's nice to hear when they ask me "who do you want to be today?". The new hires have no clue. And it's cool when one of the workers is handed a cup they know is mine because it says "Jamal" or something like that.

I want to be Chao-Li on Monday. But, I'm running kinda dry on name ideas. I like to use few letters as possible, cus I don't wanna slow the line up too much.

This is a formal call for your ideas. Please help.

Good Golly Ms. Stranger

I have been receiving errant text messages from someone for the past few days.

I received my first one Sunday while I was on my bike. It was some spam-forward pass -it-on type of generic message. I didn't respond. But then yesterday at work I got some more and I felt I had to respond. I figured I was probably erroneously entered into this person's contact list and since I have cell phone service designed for teenagers, I get nickled and dimed when I text back & forth. I only carry cell phone for emergency situations, like when I see naked people on the bike path.

The word-for-word transcript of our conversation lies below:

Tuesday Afternoon

Unknown Person: Did you go home yet? ii love Matt :)

Mike: I'm sorry Matt, you must have the wrong number and I don't think you love me.

Unknown Person: No...i said did you go home? that is my signature. ii love Matt :)

Mike: Ok, I give up. Who is this?

Unknown Person: Molly. ii love Matt :)

Mike: Molly, you don't know me. You have the wrong number. Sorry.

Tuesday Evening

Molly: FWD: It is the 6 year anniversary so send to all the people u love and don't wanna lose...I love u

Mike: I love you too Molly, thanks for the text message. I don't love Matt tho.

*FYI: the best way to make someone go away is to tell them you love them prematurely*

Molly: Who is this? ii love Matt :)

Mike: It's the wrong phone number guy.

Molly: Oh. So where do you live? ii love Matt :)

Mike: I'm confused. You say repeatedly that you have strong feelings for Matt, but you seem so interested in me?

Molly: Like in Huber Heights? ii love Matt :)

Mike: My Mama told me to not tell strangers stuff like that.

Molly: Oh. Okay Watever. You probably do since we have the same area code. ii love Matt :)

Mike: Actually Molly, the 937 area code encompasses a very large range spanning from almost Lima up north to Springboro south. I could live anywhere in this large area.

Molly hasn't texted me since that. I think I scared her off when I used the word "encompasses". I'll keep you posted.

I think it was dark in my office

or maybe I was separated from my African parents at birth.

Definately one of those two...

Tuned Out

As I get older I am starting to see some changes in myself. Luckily, most of these are not yet physical. Thank God because I'm really dreading the day that I fart when I pee.

I'm trying to become a bit smarter in my thinking. Slowly, I am learning to ignore things who's fate I cannot control. Paying attention to these things are a waste of energy. I do enough of that, to the tune of 8,500 calories a week.

So, I'm going to try my darnedest to ignore the following energy-sapping activities which have a propensity for making me go Coo-Coo for Cocoa Puffs:

Sports:

College football: My Cinderella story came true last week when the Appalachian State Goobers defeated the University of Michigan Meat Heads. It's all downhill from here.

Pro sports: My Buffalo Bills have not lost a regular season game yet! The Mets are in first place. The Celtics signed Kevin Garnett. I'm going to pretend all of these seasons are over and script in my own imaginary endings...with unicorns and leprechauns thrown in there to make it extra exciting.

Nascar: Ummm...I never watched this. Yeah. And if I did, I would never admit to it publicly. So, I'm not going to watch it any more.

Politics:

I don't know much, but I know I've lost respect for both the Demicans and the Republocrats. I just abhor the negativity of this stuff. The debates make me angry and when they are over I'm not sure who I'm even angry at. If I want to watch people argue, I'll go watch the parents at a pee wee football game.

During the debates and the campaign, I'm going to do something more productive, like thumb-wrestle with myself. Then I'll tune back in a week before the elections. If all of the candidates have not assassinated each other or become the subject of a wide range of sex scandals, I'll listen for innovative and novel ideas such as how we's gonna eliminate that pesky federal budget deficit. Or, maybe someone might explain why we still make pennies. If I don't get an answer to either of these, I'm takin' off another four years.

Thanks for listening. Gonna go poke my head in the sand now.

La la la la la la la la...*covering ears*

Where is this guy when you need him?

Tamper Poof This!

Why are the bottle necks of bicycle chain lube, automobile antifreeze, motor oil and stuff like that sealed with a piece of plastic that is really hard for goobers like me to open?

I understand that it's the mission of the homo sapien to screw each other over at every opportunity. I remember back in 1982; some crazy sociopath mean person jerk thought it was entertaining to steal Tylenol bottles from supermarkets and put potassium cyanide in them, thus ruining some people's day who already had headaches.

But is it really necessary to make a bottle of bicycle chain lube tamper proof? I mean really, is there some sociopath terrorist out there who is saying to himself :

"I'll get back at the world by stealing bottles of chain lube from a bike shop. Then I'll secretly add some foreign ingredient that will add friction to his drivechain and rob him/her of some watts of power. Then I'll go back to the bike shop and secretly replace these bottles of chain lube. That's how I'll even the score! Whoo hooh ha!"

*thunder clap*

Understandably, messing with a chain could be hazardous. Or lube *ouch*. But lube meant for chains?

I think we're being a bit too careful here.

Thanks for listening. I gotta go lube my chain now. I finally got the bottle open.

Appalachian St. 34, (5) Michigan 32

I love this stuff. This is why I wish people followed college football more:

http://sports.yahoo.com/ncaaf/recap;_ylt=AtpDXxs.eB8GCO1NdpkuvTccvrYF?gid=200709010029&prov=ap

If you like a "David vs. Goliath" kind of story, there's always one in college football. Hence, last year's Boise State victory over Oklahoma.

It's not like pro football, where the playing field is leveled with salary caps and draft picks. In college football, the "Football Factories" have a huge advantage in recruiting players out of high school that are bigger and faster.

But one thing the recruiters tend to overlook: heart.

There's no statistic for heart. It doesn't matter how fast you can run a 40, how many times you can bench 225. I'm a huge believer that if you have a big thumper in your chest you can out-do about anyone if you put your mind to it.

And heart is the reason these (relatively speaking) "goobers" from Appalachian State (a virtual unknown) can beat Michigan's ass. Not because they are better, but because Michigan has it's pants down. They were cocky, unprepared and vastly underestimated their opponent. Especially in the area of "desire".

Good job Mountaineers. My college football season might as well be over now.

Bulls...shit!

My alma mater, the University of Buffalo Bulls, is gonna be a FORCE in college football this year because they have a new head coach.

Buffalo (0-1) vs. RUTGERS (1-0)

Date: Aug 30, 2007
Site: Piscataway, N.J.
Stadium: Rutgers Stadium
Attendance: 43091

Score by Quarters 1 2 3 4
----------------- -- -- -- --
Buffalo............. 0 0 3 0 - 3
RUTGERS....... 21 7 7 3 - 38


There's no way they would have scored 3 points last year! I can't wait to watch them in this year's Liquid-Plumr® Toitey Bowl!

Yeaahhhhhh!

Lack of Reality Bytes

I had an enlightening visit with my buddy Wally yesterday. Wally just turned 88. I arrived at the nursing home about 4:45pm. He was sitting in the dining room with his usual dinner mate.

She introduced herself. I couldn't hear her when she told me what her name was, so for the sake of simplicity, let's call her "Millie". I sat between the two and talked to them while Wally periodically pointed to his watch, showing me how late dinner was.

A few minutes in, Millie announced "look what I got!" and out from under the table, she pulls from her lap a baby doll dressed in pink. I reply "Wow. She's adorable!". Millie then says "Yes, she's 5 months old".

* hoo boy... *

A social worker gave me some impromptu training on stuff like this; stay in their version of reality. When my aunt first showed signs of her Alzheimer's disease, we kept making the mistake of pointing out all of her delusions. Telling her that mother was dead, for example, is of very little reward to someone who will forget that fact in 3 minutes. It's also quite hurtful when it's like the first time they've heard it.

So, to further test the situation, I asked her, "Is she sleeping though the night?". "Oh yes." Millie replies.

Millie must be a Mom. I bet she was a good one when she was younger.

Wally describes to Millie how he and I go way back. He asks me "How long have we known each other? Fifteen years?". It's been more like four or five. So, I told him it was a little less than fifteen. Wally asks again, "Eleven years?". "Yep", I said.

Between Millie and Wally, it was like a one-two combination punch of dimensia.

This minute or two of dialog left me with a very distinct impression: You might not like your version of reality. You might feel that you don't have enough time or money, that people in your life aren't giving you as much love or respect as you feel they should. Or even worse, your favorite TV show might have been cancelled. But, at least it's the truth. And you can then react to that truth in any way of your choosing. That is a power we sometimes take for granted.

Because, if you're unlucky enough to live deep into your eighties, it's very likely that you'll be unable to decifer what's real and what's not. Enjoy while you still can.

Waiting in Van

I'm sitting waiting for new tires and an oil change:

*to the tune of Waiting in Vain, Bob Marley and the Wailers*

I don't wanna wait in vain for my van
I don't wanna wait in vain...

From the very first time I rest my eyes on you...van
My motorcycle dreams took a poo.

But I know now I'm way down on the line
Cus these grease monkeys take their time

Don't treat me like a puppet on a string
cus I can see you aren't doing a thing

Don't talk to me as if you think I'm dumb
I wanna know when you're freakin' done

I don't wanna wait in vain for my van
I don't wanna wait in vain...

*guitar solo*

Like I said, I've spent two hours and some listnin' to that wrench
*air wrench noise three times*
and this waiting room has a stench

ooooh guys, oooh guys...is it feasible, I wanna know now...
there's more time on this bench?

I don't wanna wait in vain for my van
I don't wanna wait in vain...

Hold your fire

Somebody's always gotta spoil everybody's fun.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070829/ap_on_re_us/burning_man_burned

What are the chances you'll get arrested for arson at Burning Man?

Pretty good if you're an idiot. Nice face...dork.

Moon shot

Hey Loonies, if you're not doing anything August 28th between 4:52am and 5:52am. Go watch the moon disappear and turn red...

One of my earliest memories (besides the time I pooped in the bathtub) was a time when I was say 5 or 6 years old. I wanted to see a lunar eclipse but my Mom told me I couldn't stay up late enough to watch it. I threw a fit, but she told me to go straight to bed or I'd get a spanking.

Luckily, my grandmother (Nana) was visiting us. After pouting myself to sleep, she woke me up, whispered to me, telling me that I should me quiet and snuck me outside where I saw my first eclipse of the moon. That moment must have really stuck with me, because I mooned a lot of people in college.

Nana's 93 now. I haven't spoken to her in weeks because she broke her hip and she's not able to handle a phone.

I should get my ass out there this morning and see the eclipse. And then I gotta get it down to Alabama to see her...stat.

3 teachers walk into a bar

Before the Reel Big Fish Show in a strange town that rhymes with "shitsburgh".

Teacher #1 and #2 go sit at the bar while teacher #3 goes to the john.

Teacher #1: "I think we're in a gay bar!"

Teacher #2: "No way!"

Teacher #1: "There's nothing but guys in here."

Teacher #2: "So, what's new about that?"

Teacher #1: "Take a look at the art on the walls"

(teacher #2 notices that there's several framed photos of shirtless men)

Teacher #2: "Huh".

Teacher #1: "What about that?" (pointing to a banner above the bar that clearly states "hot male dancers Thurs-Sat")

Teacher #2: "Holy shit! You're right!"

(teacher #1 and teacher #2 giggle under their breath and make an agreement to not tell teacher #3 when he comes back. Just to mess with him and see if he could figure it out.)

Teacher #3: "What are you guys laughing at?"

I was teacher #2.

I told him about 5 minutes later because I couldn't stop giggling and just couldn't keep it to myself any more.

Actually, the place seemed really nice. Bartender called another guy "dear". Very friendly.

And most importantly, nobody asked to push in my stool.

Maybe I should find a place like this in Dayton? Ah, I'm not ready to give guys a try just yet. Maybe hermaphrodites. Kinda ease into it...

Return To Work Day

I am suffering from a bout of RTWS, "Return To Work Syndrome".

One of the symptoms of RTWS: sarcasm.

Today I returned to work to discover a huge crisis arose in my absence.

*That's some of the sarcasm presenting itself right now*

It seems that some of the members of my department have been severely disenfranchised because the campus mail system has not been operating up to the very high departmental standards we uphold, the same high standards that got me hired as the chairperson.

*cough, cough*

....*cough*

It seems that some of the mail was not being delivered to the proper office. Whoa.

While I was in the Adirondack mountains riding my bike and being stalked by giant bugs, this crisis came to a head. A package was delivered to a location 3 buildings away. Someone had to walk this entire distance to pick it up. Oh Crikey!

A hot potato of this nature couldn't wait for me to re-enter the world of accessible bandwidth. So, let's skip the first four layers of management and call the president's office. Yeah. Oh, and while we're at it, let's send out snippy emails with large distribution lists accusing the mail room staff of purposely not delivering the mail to the proper place. Because I've met them and they're malicious, ya know. I very highly doubt it could have been...a mistake. And even if it was a mistake. Walking three buildings down to get the mail? Not on option. Especially because colleges are so busy in mid-August.

So I'm happy to return and discover that I'm needed to support these folks in their plight against the mean, mean mail room people.

And impressed with their tact, brinksmanship, and overall poopie-headed-ness.

For example, if you go to Burger King and your Whopper isn't up to specs because it has pickles on it, don't stoop so low as to remove them yourself. Make sure lots of people are around. Then, storm the counter and yell loudly "This burger has pickles on it and I specifically asked for no pickles!". Then shove it right in the worker's face.

...and wonder why you got that special sauce you didn't ask for.

Geez! How are we going to open up fall quarter? The mail isn't being delivered right 100% of the time!

Thanks to these guys, I'm sure it will be now!

*sorry, more sarcasm*

Mission Accomplished!

Madame Shoe

While Stranded Away
on a 3 week vacation
My shoe sole fell victim
to delamination

Whenever I walk
it goes flop, flop flop
because the bottom rubber layer
peeled away from the top

It's rather embarrassing
and it pisses me off
I feel like a jerk
like Mr. Jack Meoff

A stay of execution
was granted of late
much thanks to the services
of cyanoacrylate

It's called Super Glue
for those in the know
and it takes half a tube
to save a broken sole

The signs are STILL a-changin'

On last year’s New York trip I seized a bored moment to alert the town of Newark Valley of my feelings about the banking industry’s business practices.

Whelp, it seems that Visions Credit Union was ready for my visit this year. A quick check of the marquis shows only the letter “L”. Calling me a “loser” are they? The wily bastards! Well…they have crummy rates on 5 year CD’s! And, I don’t need them anyhow!

You see, serial marquis sign-changers don’t hit the same location every year. That’s like, totally no class, man. So this year, I did some recon and I have Newark Valley High School scoped out. The sign, which sets right off highly trafficked route 38 currently states:

JV – Varsity Sports Practice Begins August 13

This has gotta have enough letters for a really silly combination. Or maybe even something meaningful? Nah, let’s go with silly. I need your help. Got any ideas? I am planning a mission this weekend before I go to the Adirondacks to hide from the authorities.

Now it’s time for the frequently asked questions portion of this blog:

FAQ:

Mike, isn’t this disrespectful to the property of the high school?

Yes.

Mike, shouldn’t you act a little more your age?

No. I really, really don’t think so. I’m up to my armpits in responsibility and maturity. So, once in a great while, allow me some juvenile fun, Poopie-Head!

What happens if you get caught? Couldn’t you get in trouble?

Hey, if you can’t do the time, you shouldn’t do the crime. If I get caught and slapped with a trespassing charge, I’ll call my Dad to bail me out. No, make that my brother. I owe him one. Then I’ll just hope that my boss doesn’t read the police-beat section of this town’s local newspaper The Daily Cornhole.

Enough questions! I must now proceed with my mission as planned. I feel marquis signs are a vastly underemployed channel by which we can all express our thoughts and feelings. I believe deeply in this.