Unintentional beauty

After a rain delay at PNC Park …

The beginning ...

work in progress

It's like they're working on Jupiter...

Sometimes, it arrives exactly when you expect it least.

Summer of the Freak

Summer says "Don't judge me! You don't know me!"

I’ve been meaning to post this blog for the past few weeks as a warning, but by now, I think it’s painfully obvious: The summer of 2009 has officially become the Summer of the Freak.

So far this summer, here’s what I’ve noticed:

• Everyone and their brother/sister is breaking up — and it’s usually not for a very good reason.  I think I know of at least 6 couples that broke up within the past 3 weeks. A shame, really.
• The Freaks are just OUT THERE, man. For example, Cali and I were at a picnic when I noticed an obvious freak started hanging around her. I think he threw out a pick up line of “I’d like to teach you radioactive safety.” I nearly pissed myself laughing when she told me.  Of course, I can’t laugh too hard … I caught a blue-haired chick eyeing me up while I was shopping at Lowe’s — but at least she didn’t offer me safety tips.
• I caught the Jehovah’s Witness lady who keeps putting literature on my car — and didn’t ream her for it. She was quite nice, actually. Though I may just burn her literature in front of her to drive the point home that that’s all it’s good for.
• The celeb death thing … just way out of control.
• Apparently, one of the security guards at my workplace was caught drunk and stuffing office supplies into his clothes. You know, if you’re gonna go out in a blaze of glory, there’s better ways than stuffing pens into your pockets.
• The majority of my hostas … which I planted in spring … aren’t growing. However, my callas are going like gang-busters. The hostas are supposed to be the hearty plants, and the callas are more touchy. Freaky!
• On the roads, the Freaks are the ones driving 35 mph on one-lane roads, and you simply can’t pass them. And they’re all going in the same direction as me.
• Mr. Sounds. There will be an entirely separate blog about him, but yeah, Freaktastic.
• I’ve actually put my money where my mouth is … and will start volunteering at the WPA Humane Society. Freaky. Or at least it will be when the shelter actually contacts me. This will be the first time I’ve actually volunteered for a group since … oh … I dunno … 1992?

So, yeah, be sure to put on your helmet and just duck and cover. We still got a ways to go, and things are bound to get freakier.

A note to the media

Please stop using the term “as the world mourns” when discussing the deaths of Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett.

While their loved ones and fans will miss them, I won’t. And I know there’s a lot of other people out there who don’t give a flying fig, either. I’ve never met either celebrity. Never knew them. I know that sounds horribly selfish and callous, but when I see people in hysterics over a celebrity’s death (and that’s any celebrity), I’m left scratching my head. Those people are the exceptions, not the norm.

They had high-profile jobs — they were entertainers –  and that’s about it.

Yes, I was alive during the “Thriller” era for MJ.

Yes, I was alive when Farrah Fawcett was THE sex symbol.

Both may have had a tiny influence on my life, but not enough to make me mourn their passing. And for once, I think I’m the norm and not the exception.

So please media, stop acting like the world has stopped because of their deaths. Let their families and friends mourn, and let it be respectful and peaceful. But stop acting like I am (or should be) one of them, when I most certainly am not.

This one’s for me

I went out on this morning’s ride, telling myself that my only goal today was to ride the former circuit that I use to crush. And I did that. In fact, I did it with relative ease.

Getting stronger...

The thing that surprised me the most was the fact that I did it on mostly the second and third front chain ring. For you non-cyclers, that’s the tough stuff. Your inner chainring is you “granny gear” — your outside one is your “road” gear (ie, flat, easy surface).

But you know, it wasn’t until I stopped at about the midway point that I realized how far I’ve come in just the past week or so of riding. My legs had that old rock-solid-burning-yet-could-turn-to-jello-at-any-minute  feel to them. I was bleeding from a thorn in my forearm and some scratches on my shins (par for the course). I even had my first crash today — stupidly, I was coasting with my left foot down, and it snagged a vine. I couldn’t clip out, so BAM, over I fell. And you know what? I was laughing and bemoaning the fact that no one was there with a camera. And at the end, I know I had a shit-eating grin, despite breathing entirely too hard for what the course is.

Parts of the ride weren’t pretty. And yeah, the part that I haven’t ridden has changed a bit since I was last there, so I walked parts of it as I figured out where the new trails went. But I also made it up parts that just yesterday I was thinking to myself, “There’s no way I’ll do this for awhile yet.” Today, zoom, no sweat. D-U-N done.

Even at the end, I was on the outside chain ring, cruising back to the car. Thank you muscle memory. The riding legs are coming back. I’m ecstatic.

So today, pardon me if I don’t share my steak and beer. Today, it’s all about me, and it’s all mine.

The divorce, and the sides

Apparently Jon and Kate from “Jon and Kate Plus 8″ are getting a divorce.

The only reason I know this is because my Facebook pals have been all aflutter about it. They’ve even gone so far as to pick sides. Some were all “I was on Jon’s side, but now I’m in Kate’s camp.” There’s apparently a certain lingo being used that I just can’t (or won’t) follow. And we’re talking long, long threads about how this one’s a douche and how this one isn’t and how the kids will deal.

I, personally, have my own camp — the Chipper-Shredder camp. Throw Jon, Kate and all 8 of those little fuckers into it, just so I won’t have to hear about it anymore.

Really, you people can’t find anyone more interesting to watch than these useless fuckbags?