Womanizer
Wednesday, December 31st, 2008I really like this cover. Grim, catchy, well done.

I really like this cover. Grim, catchy, well done.
Wow, helluva ride in this morning. Cold, partly cloudy and blowing 20-30ish. For significant segments of the ride I was averaging 7-9 mph, but my airspeed was probably around 35, I figure if you add back in the vector of distance lost to drift, there’s probably a lost mile in there somewhere. 4 blocks from work I started feeling stingy sensations from the first few flurries, the cloud ceiling dropped down to about the 5th floor, and suddenly it was snowing sideways for 5 minutes. That was pretty fun.
Here’s something else I observed and appreciated on the way in: I finally adjusted the seat height on Cledus the last couple millimeters to dialed. Doesn’t sound like much to celebrate, I realize. Gross seat adjustments happen quickly, finer adjustments require some time to get to know them, and I find that I get as much of that feeling of “oh… oh man that’s way better” out of finding the last half-centimeter as I did getting it pretty close from 2 inches down. Little joys like this rekindle my love affair with that bike all the time. Quit lookin’ at me like that.
So here we are, you and I, at the end of the year, the end of the first American administration of the 21st Century, the end of investment banking as we’ve come to know it (thankfully), and perhaps the beginning of the end of the era of Happy Motoring as Mr. Kunstler likes to put it. Predictions for what’s in store seem as complex and fruitless as predicting the path of a tornado. All we know is that whatever path it takes to get there, it’s headed for the trailer park. Hey, perhaps we are too! I’m still optimistic, I’m hoping for an Airstream.
I think this is a fitting moment to look back to a visionary, even prescient movie that can teach us a lot about what this new world will look like. Enjoy this gleefully dystopian scene from Americathon, in which Meatloaf fights a car.
Bet ya thought I was gonna show a clip from Idiocracy, didn’t ya? Like I said, I have higher hopes than that.
For whatever woes we may reap down the line from seeds sown through the Age of Dubya, I can’t complain about a thing. My family is a busted water main of love and happiness, my kids delight me endlessly, and my wife is the love of my life. The seas are not always smooth, nor the weather always fair, but I couldn’t be any more blessed than I am.
We pulled the trigger on the cargo bikes we’ve been talking about for years, and the results have been even better than our already high expectations. The kids love the bikes, and are growing up loving bikes generally. Rebbie and I are both stronger, fitter, happier, (more productive) than we were a year ago. And I think we’ve put about 2-3 thousand miles on the Subaru this year, most of those were trips to Baltimore and New York to visit friends and family, so it’s been more like our personal airplane than a car, which is how we imagined it ought to be. Thank you to all who helped, counseled, encouraged, laughed, jeered, and even participated in our transition to car-liteness, and here’s to more of the same in the coming year.
America turned out to be not quite as frightened, paranoid and ignorant as this period in our history would suggest. We voted for an intelligent, rational, even-tempered statesperson instead of the candidate who promised to lash out more violently and irrationally than his predecessors and his adorable moose-killa sidekick. Better still, the show was awesome from this row and seat, partly because Obama’s campaign was a study in focus and reasonability, but also due to the GOP’s performance. McCain’s campaign might very well have been the Blues Brothers Grand Finale Car Chase of campaigns, I can’t think of another one in my lifetime that’s been such a stunning spectacle of fiery wreckage. I’m gonna miss the McCain folks, but I’m eagerly anticipating 2012’s lineup. I’m hoping that Romney, Huckabee, and Palin all make it to the final rounds and provide America with some provocative theopolitical discussions. Bless their hearts, each and every one of ‘em. Don’t ever give up, guys!
I promised something like a bicycling game, and this morning at about 6:30 a.m. the game had enough basic minimum functionality make sense. If you’re interested, check it out here. The general idea is that you record the rides you do, which lead to points, which leads to leveling up. Anyone who’s played video games growing up will tell you that leveling up is a powerful motivator, I know that in years past I’ve been up at 4 a.m., long past the hour when the game was still “fun”, compelled to advance a level. There’s also cash and prizes, which is to say that you can use your own cash to buy your own prizes. Who can pass that up?
There’s no help or FAQ yet, and there’s undoubtedly a slew of bugs to kill and features to implement. But now that it’s mostly somewhat barely working, I’ll be less cavalier about wiping the database and starting from scratch, so feel free to make an account. If you’re interested in how the scoring works, I posted my ponderings on it under “Bike Game Specs” over on the right, feel free to peruse, make suggestions, ridicule as necessary, what have you. I’ll set up a post or forum or something like that for information and discussion if there’s enough interest, a place where people can inform me about things that don’t work, things that work badly, graphics they find loathsome, or features that I’m a complete idiot to have not implemented yet. More to come on that, have fun!
And that’s about it for the year. If you’re reading this, I want to thank you for making this blog a little part of your life. We at It’s Just A Ride know that you have practically infinite choices when it comes to wasting time on the internet, and we appreciate that you waste even a little of the your time with us. We’re committed to providing you with almost useful, marginally entertaining blawgerations, and we hope that you’ll continue to consume some unrecoverable moments of your life with us. You’re soaking in it!
I hope 2008 was good to you. Here’s to hunkering down and enduring, here’s to simple pleasures, family, friends, and community, here’s to “Change We Can Believe In” (as well as the coming “Change I Can’t Fucking Believe Is Happening To Me”), and here’s to us all. Long may we wave!
As we assume the ready-stance and prepare to tackle 2009, always remember:
With that in mind, go on explode.
Happy New Year, stand up and shout, y’all.
Saturday afternoon, Rebbie and the kids and I packed up both longtails and pedaled up the trail to REI, partly to exchange Christmas wool (that didn’t fit) for Christmas wool (that fit), but mostly because it was a gorgeous day in the high 50’s and we were itching to ride.
On the way home, we ran into a woodpile along the trail.
I’ve been using a couple scraps of 6×6 leftover from the deck as blocks to split wood and make kindling, so seeing these on the side of the trail made me wish I could take a nice big block home with us. And then it occurred to me that I could, so I did.
It was too dark out to get a pic of our new chopping block neatly tucked into Nigel’s side bag, but here’s a pic taken after I gave it a test run the next day.
It’s these kinds of random opportunities that frequently remind me how awesome it is to have an Xtracycle. What are Nigel and I gonna do today? Whatever we feel like we wanna do. Gosh!
We’re goin’ out pretty and heavy, trilogy style. I’ma gonna make you cry now.
He’s got you where he wants you, filled with sad and beautiful sentiments, marvelling over how anything could be so lovely, you’re all torn up. So he’s gonna lighten up a bit, give you a few pleasant minutes of ease and relief.
And you’re breathin’ again, on your feet, feelin’ pretty peppy. That’s when he comes at you with Movement 3 like a wild badger full of Beethoven. He’s fast on his fingers, dancing around you darkly. Something big is wellin’ up in ya, you’re like a balloon and Wilhelm’s got a big, sharp, shiny pin. Ready? Here it comes now.
Love it.
Have a great weekend everyone, con mucho gusto.
I know what I’m doing, all day long. Pass the egg nog.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and Merry Festivus!
This post is supposed to be for tomorrow, but I realize that for many folks this is something they do rather than working, and I didn’t wanna forget you freeloaders, so it’s a day early. If you like, you could think of it as a present, from me to you, but then you’d have to answer for the disappointment we all feel that you couldn’t even wait until Thursday morning to read it. I mean, really, how could you?
Here’s a Christmas story that never fails to bring a tear to my eye for its beauty and sadness and joy. Please enjoy “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer”. Just kidding. Our family wishes you and yours a wonderful holiday season, and remember, don’t drive angry.
Cheers!
This morning I looked out the window and saw nothing but sun and clear blue sky, a little too clear in fact.
Downstairs, kettle on, coffee ground, fire started and then I remembered to check the forecast. Eighteen degrees, wind chill to four degrees. At first I thought, “Good lord it’s freezing out there.” Then I remembered that freezing would be somewhere between fourteen and 28 degrees warmer than that.
For the first time in almost a year I thought about taking the Metro.
But then I thought about all the days I’ve spent on mountains in similar temperatures, being a little cold but mostly having a ball, and it seemed like the main ingredients for success in that environment were the right clothing and a flask of Irish whiskey. In this case though, instead of a lodge full of friends and booze at the other end of the trip, I was heading into work, and we’re still several days off from Christmas, so the flask had to stay home.
I added a pair of snowpants and a balaclava to my cold-weather gear and that pretty much did the trick. The ride was a little slower, very warm, pleasant, and I was glad not to have taken the train within 5 minutes. On the way in, I thought to myself, “Cold. Deep, too.” This deserves some explanation, or perhaps it doesn’t, but you’re here already so why not waste just a few minutes more?
There are jokes shared with friends and family that don’t split sides in their first telling, but whose punchlines gain value on their own later on, performing a sort of rope-a-dope on the target. Years ago, I told, to my aunt, uncle, cousins, and grandmother, the joke about the pirate with the ship’s wheel coming out of his pants. (If you’re the only one who hasn’t heard it, the bartender says, “Hey pirate, what’s with the wheel.” Pirate says, “Arrrrrrrrrgh! I don’t know but it’s drivin’ me nuts!”) It’s definitely on the fluffy, cute side of blue humor, but nevertheless blue enough to elicit some eye-widening and nervous laughter.
Seems like a dud, right? Until about half an hour later, when my cousin starts talking about her evil boss, and the impossible, unfeasible situation he was putting her in. She says, with an exasperated sigh, “That man is driving me nuts!” I immediately cried, “ARRRRRRRRGH!!!” A moment passes and then bam, everyone in the room’s guffawing, and Pirate Joke is off the ropes and hittin’ ‘em hard!
My Dad and I share a dumb joke, a dick joke naturally, that’s become funnier by reference than it was in telling. Two guys are peein’ off of a bridge, one says to the other, “Man, that water’s cold.” The other guy replies, “Yep, deep too.”
Ya get it? See, the one guy says something that indicates that he has a freakishly, impossibly long penis! But then the other guy indicates that his is even more freakishly, even more impossibly long! Woo! Funneh!
Okay, so not especially funny the first time you tell it, seems like a throw-away one-liner, right?. Oh ho, not so fast. This joke’s true value lies in its ability to keep giving long after the joke itself has been forgotten. Because at some point, folks with whom you’ve shared this dumb joke will rub their hands together, cup and blow into them, and say to you, “Man, it’s cold out here!” And you’ll look ‘em in the eye and say with perfect deadpan delivery, “Yep, deep too.” The light of recognition will flicker in their eyes, and if their inner 5th-grader yet survives they’ll start laughing.
How’s your holiday preparations comin’?