Thursday, July 31, 2008

Bugs. Or, why I hate the creepy crawlies.

Let's just put it out there because anyone who's met me probably knows it already: I hate bugs. And spiders. And some birds. Anything that flies at my face. But mostly bugs. It's to the point I almost stopped reading "The Metamorphosis." Serious. I can't say exactly what about bugs is so freaky. The rational part of my brain knows full well there's no way a bug could hurt me. Even if they wanted to (and there have been times when they've wanted to I'm sure of it). I could easily crush a bug (or a spider) with my shoe with zero chance of harm befalling me. Yet, when coworkers screamed there was cockroach (a two-incher at that) chilling out by the door to my office this morning I got weak kneed. OK, that's an exaggeration. But it did freak me out. Yet, I still felt compelled to go see it. To get as close as possible. But not too close, in case it tried to scurry my way. I think it's because the fuckers are so damn tough. I've seen a cockroach get stepped on, and, guts oozing all over the floor, still try to craw it's ass away. I've personally kicked a cockroach across a room, full on punted the thing, just to see it flip itself over and charge head on at me.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

More fun on the road

Riding down Foutain Way. Two kids on BMXs are trolling up and down the street, being kids. I ride by. About a block down I hear one the kids behind me peddling his ass off. We're racing, I guess.

"I'll beat you to the corner."

And he huffs some and peddles faster and beats me to the stop sign, which he coasts through with his hands in the air like a true racer.

"How fast do you ride?" he asks.

We're having a conversation now. Cool.

I don't know. Fast.

"My cousin works at Stevens and he has a bike like that and he put a spedometer on it."

Oh yeah?

"He goes 40,000 ... I mean 40. 45."

Miles and hour?

"Yeah."

That's fast. I don't go that fast.

"He peddles as fast as me, but he can go faster because he's got a gear bike."

Then his friend joins the ride and we're all racing. They're peddling, peddling and breathing hard and then they coast for a while, then peddling hard again. We come up on Palm and I get ready to turn and they start lagging behind.

OK, guys, be safe.

"You too."

Friday, July 25, 2008

In quarantine Pt. 2

Nothing too good in today's batch.

This one did make me chuckle: From, nootsam@calvinolaw.com. Subject, Where Do Homosexuals Get All Their Energy

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Fun on the road.

Riding my bike down Palm Avenue and somewhere north of Clinton this truck pulls over on the side of the road. He's sort of stopping of haphazardly, and I see this and before the car is even stopped the driver cranks it into park, flings open the door and starts yelling.

At me.

"Did you flip me off? What's wrong with you dude? You're gonna flip me off? Why'd you flip me off? What's your problem man?"

Picture him red-faced and panting.

As I ride by: "Um. I didn't flip you off."

I ride a few blocks more and realize that this guy is following me, which must look weird to everyone else cause even if I'm riding fast, he's driving slow. Eventually he gives a little honk and I look over my shoulder and he motions for me to pull over.

So I do.

And so does he.

He rolls down the passenger window and starts in again with how I flipped him off and what was I thinking and what was my problem.

And I say: "I don't know what you're talking about."

Which was the truth. Because before he pulled over, I hadn't seen the guy on the road at all. I don't remember passing him, or waiting with him at a light. Or FLIPPING HIM OFF.

So I say, "Sorry, I don't know."

Then he says, "My mistake then. My mistake," then stares at me for a bit, then drives off. I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. The look on his face said, "Still fuckin pissed," but the tone in his voice suggested he was kind of confused about the whole ordeal.

I'm left with so many questions. Like, what did he expect was going to happen, even if I had flipped him off? Was he looking for a fight? Because if so, he gave up pretty easily. And again, if I had flipped him off, what had happened during his day to make him chase down a complete stranger, on a bike, just to confront them about it. Really dude, is it worth all that?

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

In quarantine

My work e-mail is set up to quaratine incoming mail that might cause security risks. Then, it gives me a list in case a message was quarantined by mistake, like maybe one of my sources has an e-mail address in India or likes to use the word penis at lot.

From today's quaratine list:

From, cyclopho_1988@eti21.com. Subject, Britney Spears Stashed Guns In Her Vagina - Papparazzi Duck For Cover.

That one came over at 2:57 p.m.

At 12:21 p.m. methcilh_1965@willett.com sent a message with this subject: James Bond To Have Gay Lover In New Film

Someone gets paid for this crap.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Hercules

I feel for Chris Hein's cat Hercules.

Apparently some scoundrel cat from the neighborhood has been coming over every night for the past week or so to fight. They scratch and claw at each other all night until Chris or Clay goes out and chases the other cat away and then Hercules slinks off into some corner somewhere to lick his wounds and rest up for the next night's match, because the fucker keeps coming back.

Can you imagine? Some dude comes to your house EVERY night and says, "Let's fight," and you have to fight or he just moves in. And you never really beat him, but he never really beats you, so it just goes on and on like that forever.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

No. 9

Octopi mate face-to-face.
Bears do it from behind.
We, as humans, sometimes get to choose.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

The demon sun pt. II: The demon heat

Because everyone else is doing it and because it's Fresno and July and there's pretty much no escaping it, I need to write about the heat.

Truth is: I don't really mind it. This is not to say I don't/won't complain about it. So, don't worry, you'll hear me bitching as much as the next guy. About how hellishly hot it is. "Hotter than shit," I like to say. But when it comes right down to it, when you're out in the thick of it at 6:30 p.m. doing Aikido in Chris Hein's back yard, it ain't that bad.

"That" being a very subjective word, I know.
I guess the "bad" is pretty subjective too.

Would I rather it be 75 degrees with a breeze? Of course.

But there is something kind of awesome in the oppresivness of it, the way it weighs you down, wears you down, tires you out. There's something romantic about it too, says Chris Hein. In that down-south sitting-on-the-porch-drinking-mint-julep kinda way. I sort of agree.

Plus, I kinda love the feeling when you first get in your car and you're burning, literally burning. It's like how some people like the smell of gasoline. And there's that moment when you think you can't take any more. But then you do, right? There's the rub. The human body has an awesome cooling system. It's called sweat. And yes, it is gross. But if you get over that it totally works and makes things liveable. Just keep hydrated.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Like water in the ear.

It's not affecting my hearing or anything like that. No loss of brain fuction or balance. But I can feel it. My ear needs to pop. Just the one. Annoying as all hell. But no pain. No infection. That comes later, I guess, once the water has time to rot a bit. Or mold up. Or whatever happens down there. I'm hoping my body is good at fighting off such infections, because I'm young-ish and healthy, and this will all just go away. I'll wake up one morning and won't even think about it anymore. Poof. The magic of the human body.

I tried one of those ear candles, supposed to suck all the grossness out of the ear using flame and heat and ... suction. Somehow. There was a giant flame, which I couldn't see because I was on the floor on my side with the thing in my ear. There was heat, but not enough that I ever felt in danger. There was some noise, probably the sound of the air and the flame and whatnot. It felt like maybe it helped. Maybe. It was a cool experiment, at the very least.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Faux beard

There is this thing that happens every few months now, where I get lazy and stop shaving and I end up with this really scraggly looking faux beard. It's sad really, that I can't grow a real beard. I can grow long stubble, but it's just not the same.

So today, just now, in the bathroom mirror I realized I have grey in my faux beard. Not a lot, but enough to notice for sure. Could be, I'm getting old.