Cracking me up (pun intended)

Last Friday, we had a little TGIF celebration at Google. It was kind of a big deal, since they were basically introducing us (Postini) as a whole to the rest of the Google TGIF'ers. (Boy, that's a whole other blog post, let me tell you. I've worked with some geeky people in my 20+ years in high tech, but dammmmmmmmmmmmn. I saw some sh*t Friday that just takes the cake.)

We celebrated Google accomplishments (lots of polite clapping), and more Google accomplishments, blah, blah, blah. There was free food, and free beer (heyyyyy, that's what I'm talking about!) and free water. Oh, wait. Water IS free. Mostly. Anyway, all the water and beer and on the way back to the shuttle bus, I realized: I'm not going to make it back to San Carlos. I gotta pee! I stopped at a building and it was off to find the restroom. Found it, with the help of a fellow Googler! And jeez. What the hell? The toilet seat looked weird. Surgical-like hoses coming out of it, a weird little control panel on the wall next to the toilet. What is this? When I sat down, I found that the seat was HEATED! As I was examining the control panel, I realized that the funny toilet seat was actually a bidet! It even had pictures on the buttons. Ha, ha, ha.



Okay, I've never seen a bidet. I admit it. But an OFFICE building was the last place on Earth (next to my parents place) that I ever expected to see one! The worst part: I was on the verge of cracking up, but I couldn't, because someone else was in there!!! I was afraid to test it out, in case it reacted badly and I didn't want to explain why the back of my shirt was all wet...

N U T S

Today is going to be nuts. I'm not sure exactly when things will take a turn for the crazy side, but I expect it will be somewhere around 3. Today is the day when "officially", Google takes over. Today I work for Postini. Tomorrow I will be a Google employee. A Googler, or is it a Giggler? At least I will still be employed!

Some stand to make an a**load of cash for their stock options. I'm on the low end of the totem pole (engineering scum), so I'll make a fair bit. Not enough to quit my day job (and race full-time), mind you. But enough that I think I can buy a place to live sometime next year. For those that will be semi-millionaires, and millionaires, and multi-millionaires, the celebration is planned. This showed up yesterday, courtesy of one of the soon-to-be-millionaires:



Someone added a couple of magnums to the collection this morning. I added a can of Coke, to gain perspective of the size of the GrandDaddy. Gawddamn, that bottle is big. I almost fell over last night when I took a look at it (after prodding from other engineers, because I didn't believe them). That's a whole lotta champagne. The last time everyone at work was drunk was in July. When the announcement was first made about the buyout. It was kind of scary, actually. One man, who apparently really likes to drink (a LOT) was pretty hammered. He cornered me (reeeeee! reeeee! reeeee!) and proceeded to tell me how he remembered (and obviously liked) the dress I wore at the holiday party. Umm, that was in JANUARY. Granted, I never wear dresses to work, I mean, why would I? I don't see customers, I sit at a computer all day. I'd not want to date someone from work, so who do I need to impress? Nobody. But I'd lost weight and I promised myself that I'd wear that dress for the holiday party, if I'd lost enough weight. I hadn't worn it in YEARS. And it looked GOOD on me. But damn, y'all. I didn't think some drunken engineer would remember that dress many months later... and as he was telling me about it, he was standing about an inch away from me. Kind of makes me want to re-think the dress code for the holiday party NEXT year...

And here we go again. I'm going to hide from him later today. HIDE, I tell you. I know that's not very grown up, but I don't care. :o)

Random musings (of a spaz)

I used to LOVE going to the gym. Of course, that was when I was bodybuilding. And I was living in Seattle, where it rains 9 months (or more) of the year. Ride a a bike outdoors in Seattle? Fuggetabout it. So I lifted weights. And competed in bodybuilding shows. And tanned. OMG, did I tan. I hope it never bites me in the butt, but I digress.

I started lifting again last week. I imposed a 2-3 week ban from the bike for myself, and headed back into the gym. Figured I'd do some other stuff. Rock climbing. Weights (and not the wimpy ones I have at home), real weights! Running. Anything but the bike. I even got new running shoes on Saturday after watching the track championships. I had every intention of going to the gym last night after work. I packed my gym bag and was ready to go. Ready to try out my new running shoes. On the way to the bathroom at work, I wondered: "Nuts. What shirt did I bring with me for the gym?". AUGH! NO SHIRT! Dammit. I had everything but a shirt. I'm not going to the gym in my work shirt, so I went home instead. Bloody hell. Went home and watched some silly reality show (The Pick Up Artist). I'm almost embarrassed to admit that, but it's hilarious. The "supposed" master of the show I wouldn't let near me with his weird goggles, but one of his sidekicks is pretty hot. Silly entertainment.

So about an hour or so before bed (I wasn't really tired, but knew I had to get up early for the gym), I took an Advil P.M. I got a free sample with my Sunday paper. Obviously, I wasn't that tired, or I'd have not stayed up to watch 4 dorks trying to hopelessly learn how to pick up chicks. Finally, I made myself go to bed. Damn, I just couldn't sleep.



The next thing I know, the alarm was going off. Huh? I just went to bed! I felt like I was in a coma, or drugged, or something. I had no idea where I was or what the hell that noise was (the alarm). After much procrastination, I got out of bed and started the coffee. I finally got my butt out of the house and to the gym, and it felt pretty good to be lifting in the morning.

For whatever reason I didn't notice it last week, but this morning it was clear. Ewww. Lots of dudes with hairy legs. That USED to look normal to me. And I actually kind of liked it. And I liked the big muscular guys. Okay, I still like the guys with big muscles, but only if they shave their legs! I don't even know how I'd handle that if some cute, muscular guy got all friendly with me. "Oh, sure. We could go out, but only if I could shave your legs." Ha, ha, ha. That might actually be funny... Somehow, I don't think the guy would think so though.

Apparently the combination of: Advil PM, good night's sleep, coffee, lifting weights and just one more cup of coffee has made me into one hyper, computer nerd today. I cannot sit still. I am completely unable to maintain my train of thought. I'm almost scared because I have an acupuncture appointment tonight which either makes me really sleepy or really hyper. Jesus. If it's the latter, I'd better be stopping at the store for more of that Advil PM, otherwise I will be trying to recruit neighbors to my impromptu aerobics class in the parking lot.

Oh yeah. Nobody stole the flour-filled paper last Saturday morning (damn!!!). It remains, in it's plastic bag, awaiting the next time I get to try to catch the paper thief.

Payback's a b*tch

I hate when people steal things. Two of the last three Saturdays, I've had to leave early, before my paper arrived. One of the Saturdays, I didn't get home till around 4, so it didn't really matter. But last Saturday, I got home around noon. No paper. WTF? I think I'm the only person in my building that gets a paper, but people, please. Buy your own effing paper! How much are they, like $0.50? If you can't afford your own paper, then maybe you should move to a more affordable neighborhood, no?

As I usually do, I opted not to get mad, but to get even. I swear to God, if my front porch were made of wood, I'd nail the paper to it, but then again, my paperboy must be sleeping in on Saturdays. Last Saturday, I left at 6:30, no paper. Dude. 6:30!!! So, I kept a paper from Thursday. And of course, I keep the little blue plastic bags they come in, because they make awesome poop bags! Tonight I doctored up that paper.



I lay it on the kitchen counter, opened and filled each section with flour. Not a ton, but enough to make a mess. I put the entire paper back together as it came to me, put it back in the plastic bag, and it's lying in the hall. I plan to leave in the morning, grab the *real* paper and switch it with the flour-filled paper. Muwahahaha! I hope that whomever is stealing it gets that sh*t all over themselves and all over their apartment. It will absolutely serve them right.

If you wonder where this comes from, it comes from my Grandmother, Ruth. My Dad's Mom. She was my rock. Greatest cook in the world, and a fabulous mother-figure for me. When she was working, she'd put her lunch in the company refrigerator. Someone kept stealing her sandwich. So, one day, she got even. She made a sandwich, with some Ex-Lax in it. Put it in the refrigerator just like all the other days. And sure enough, it was stolen. I remember how funny she thought that was, and you know, I get it. I really do. If you steal, then you deserve what you get!

Don't get mad, get EVEN!

My dog is a dork

While this is somewhat old news, now that I've figured out how to post photos to my blog, watch out!

A very dear friend of mine moved to LA last month. We decided to have a nice little dinner and some wine before she left and so I took my dog, Bette, to go see her. Before dinner, we took a walk to the little park near her old apartment in San Mateo (Central Park). As we walked in, we were so busy talking that I somehow missed the HUGE metal dog sculpture at the South entrance. Well, I saw it on the way out. So did Bette. Bette, who is usually terrified of large dogs, just stood and STARED at it. Then she walked over, put her paws up on it's chest and proceeded to sniff it's nose! I was floored and fumbled around trying to get my camera phone to take a picture, but it took so long the moment (and it was a LONG one too, so I guess that makes me a BIGGER dork than Bette) was over.

I just got the camera part figured out and we tried to get her to do it again, but she was over it. However, before we left, she gave the dog the classic "dog greeting". I managed to save that little moment, luckily.



You would have thought Bette would have figured out that it really wasn't a dog when she tried to sniff it's nose. Not to be deterred, I guess she had to make ABSOLUTE CERTAIN before we walked away... Classic.

My kharma was pee'd on by someone's dogma

This past weekend were 2 of the Cal-Cup races, Dunnigan Hills (air quotes) Road Race and the Suisun Harbor Criterium. Dunnigan Hills is a sprinter's dream for a road race. 700' of climbing in about 43 miles. And this year would include a flat finish.

My teammate (MaryEllen) and I leave my place at 5 a.m. on Saturday to get to the race. She was asleep, but we were making good time until we got to Vacaville. Traffic jam!!! Construction running late. OMFG. I had to pee, and I would have made it to Yolo, if not for the traffic jam. We lost about 20 minutes. By the time we got past it, I was pretty uncomfortable. Exiting 80 onto 113 North, there were seams in the pavement (or so it FELT like), which were killing my bladder. We missed stopping at the first exit, which had a nice Starbucks, a service station, etc. Argh! The next few exits contained nothing but farmland, and the bushes were looking pretty good. MaryEllen has a talent for spotting McDonald's signs and there it was. Just at the offramp in Woodland. I literally ran into the bathroom, whilst she strolled in behind me. Although I usually put my car keys into a pocket or someplace else, this particular moment, they were in my hand. As I turned to flush the toilet, they fell INTO the toilet. It all happened in slow motion. I was too out of it to take a swipe at them to knock them away, so all that was heard was, "Plink" followed by "f**************************************ck!!!!!". MaryEllen calls out, "I'm NEVER touching your keys again..." I didn't even want to touch them, because what do all bike racers do prior to races, besides pee? Awww, nuts. I grabbed them after standing there, horrified. Flushed the toilet and ran screaming to the sink where I threw them in the sink and proceeded to wash both my hands and the keys with soap and water.

Once we started the race, I was fine, till about 45 minutes in. My left hip has really been bugging me, and it's tight. WAY tighter than it's normally been. Jane Robertson attacks and I went with her. Well, I tried to go with her, but I didn't quite have enough to get there from here. We got caught rather quickly anyway, and I was sitting in, trying to recover. I seemed to be recovering, heart-rate wise, but I can't explain what happened other than I had barely any power. The pack started to ride away from me. And despite my accelerations, I could not stay. I chased for awhile and got within about 10 bike lengths and then they just rode away. MaryEllen was looking like she was going to come back for me, but I waved her on. Considering what was going on, I'd not have been able to keep up much longer anyway. My hip/glute continued to degrade until the pain was shooting into my low back, and down my left leg. I was barely moving on the slight rollers (around 5 mph) and nothing is steep on that course. As I was making the long trek back on the straight, boring, 99West, I decided to eat some of my GU. I pulled the GU flask out and when I went to eat it, it was pooled in the bottom. So I held it upside down for about a minute and then ate some. It went into my mouth, and all down my chin. ARGH. I put it away and wiped it off my chin. Then I looked down. It was all down the front of my shorts and my left leg, clear to my knee. And it was a combination of chocolate and espresso (read: brown). God. I tried to wipe it off, but it wasn't keen to leave my leg, so I left it. A few minutes later, I looked down to find a big blob of it, pooled on the top tube, near the seat post. ACCCK. I scooped it up with my thumb and ate it too. When I finally got to the finish line, MaryEllen was waiting for me (she'd won! And I'm so bummed I missed it, but thank God she didn't need me!). "Dude, what's all over your shorts?"

After arriving back at the registration area, I went into the bathroom to clean up. Wiped it off my shorts and my leg, and then went to clean the bike up. Man, that stuff was all over the place. Top tube. Seat post. Even in my rear brake! Threw the towel away and went to mount the bike. Looked down at my left (white) shoe. Sick. It was ALL over my shoe! Back to the bathroom. Stuck foot in the sink and washed my shoe off. Back to the bike. All is well. In talking to 2 girls from Touchstone and MaryEllen, the one girl points at my chest and said, "You missed some." MaryEllen starts laughing and said, "You're right! They DO catch everything!!!" :o)

The next day, the hip issue is still bugging me, which basically takes me out of any contention at Suisun Harbor, so I ride back to my car, shove a gel ice pack down into my skin suit (do these shorts make my butt look fat?) and proceed to roll around town and around the course, encouraging MaryEllen. I came back to the course to find 2 of the women from our race on the ground! I hadn't realized the Virginia Perkins AND MaryEllen both went down in this crash too, because they were both still in the race. Later, Virginia comes out of the race, and we're standing there talking. MaryEllen comes rolling up, and yells, "Dude, give me your rear wheel!" "What?" "Give me your rear wheel! I have a flat!" So I yank it off my bike, Virginia holds my bike and MaryEllen and I go running back to the pit. Mind you, I still have the ice pack in my skin suit and said running action sends it South, so now it's basically fallen down below my butt and is attached to the back of my leg. We arrive at pit in record time (sprinting in road shoes is not recommended) and they tell her, "Sorry, free laps are over. You have to chase." She takes my wheel and takes off, and I head back to my bike with her dead wheel. When I put it onto my bike, someone points at it and said, "Whoa. Look at that!"



Whoever thought a safety pin would flat a tire? Damn. She ran over it a few times too, so it was bent pretty good and looked like someone just fastened it in the tire.

While it was a less-than-desirable weekend, it was still a lot of fun. I have great (albeit, disgusting) stories from the experience, and I'll be more careful with key placement in the restroom in the future. Thank God I didn't drop the keys in the porta-potty. Cuz ewwwww.

Holy effing sh*t

My employer was purchased by Google yesterday. Well, the news hit yesterday, the purchase will be complete sometime this quarter. I still haven't managed to collect 90% of my cash from my last company who was bought out, and now this on top of it. Looks like I might be able to buy a place to live next year. My own garage for all the damned bikes I have and hopefully a teeny yard for the dog. I'm not greedy. Just something that is a tax write-off and so I quit throwing my rent money down the proverbial toilet each month.

Part of me is thrilled as I'll be working for Google, one of the best employers in the nation (I was already working for the BEST, unknown employer in the nation, but Postini doesn't really count on that grand of a scale, because we're such a small fish)! Part of me is scared of the unknown, but another part of me is excited, as I'll have plenty of room to grow professionally. I hope I'm good enough! I love my current commute, so my hope is that they don't move us in the next year, so I can keep my wimpy 2.5 mile and no freeway-BS commute. Of course, moving us to Mountain View would actually give me a decent bike commute and it would be worth my while. But that's down the road anyway, right?

Back to watching Le Tour and drinking wine!

Cyclists, Woodside residents and the Sheriff

Who'd of thunk that a large, fast-moving group of cyclists could create a roadblock for more than a few moments?

The residents of Woodside, of course.

This is my 4th year of racing. For FOUR summers, I've been wanting to go on the Wednesday night Valley Ride. But I've been afraid. Afraid of being dropped. Afraid of the rumors of sketchy riders. Afraid of looking like the dreaded "Fred", well, maybe "Frederique". My coach finally talked me into it. "Just try it" he said. So I decided to just try part of it. "Be sure to get a good warmup in". So I did a couple of 10 minute efforts to get some intensity into my legs. I knew I'd have to blend in from nearly a dead halt and append onto the back of the pack, and that was going to be tough, since I'd planned to join in from a slight downgrade section.

I went about my business warming up, and then waiting. Waiting whilst rolling around. Finally, the group arrived, and yup. Had to join from a dead halt. The entire group passed and then I sprinted to latch onto the back of the pack. And they just sucked me along. I moved up and whoosh, whoosh. It was fun! Over a slight crest and then back down again. Whooshing along. Didn't seem sketchy to me, at least not last night. Over another crest and then damn. I had to use my biggest gear so I wasn't spinning my brains out. I don't think I've used that gear in a very, very, very long time. And then we turned, it were going down a long, section of gradual rollers. On an uphill roller, I eventually blew up and popped off of the group. I worked pretty hard to catch up to a teammate, and then we rolled along to the re-group point. I figured the group could just pull me along, back to where I'd parked, and I'd be good to go. So I waited. Once we pulled back onto the road (Kings Mountain Road) and started heading towards 84 and Roberts Market, there sat the Sheriff. I heard voices saying, "Single file! Everyone ride single file." which I tried to do. But others were passing. Then we spread out again as we approached the stop sign at 84 and Kings. The first group got through the left and the rest of us had to wait for traffic. Finally a nice motorist stopped and motioned us to go through. This is where it gets weird. There wasn't much room between the motorist and the head of the group of cyclists, but somehow, Mr. Man (the sheriff) drove through it. I felt like he'd endangered us, but I already know that as a cyclist, my opinion does not matter. Not in Woodside. He cut us off and then parked sideways, in the middle of 84, just to get out and lecture us and make a huge showing for the motorists. I'm thinking to myself, "Wow, what a jerk". He proceeds to lecture us about taking up the entire lane and riding 5 abreast when there's no bike lane, and how he'd gotten FIVE calls already about us. This is where I have to call bullsh*t.

I know this group, and I know the route. The group is traveling at the speed limit for cars. This is why it's so damned hard to stay on the ride. It's FAST, and if motorists are angry because they can't get around, then that tells me they are speeding. And due to the speed, the entire group is present in Woodside for maybe 25 minutes. Tops. I caught the group out in Portola Valley at 6:25. I was back at my car in Woodside at 7. I got popped at 6:35, in Woodside, and part of the route is going up the backside of Kings Mountain to Huddart Park. So for those 5 or 10 minutes, the group is not in the vicinity of any vehicular traffic. Five calls my arse. The whole lot of us would take things more seriously if the door swung both ways. Where was Mr. Man 45 minutes prior when a dark gray Mitsubishi Eclipse passed me within about 2 inches out on 84. I was over to the right as far as possible and there was no oncoming traffic. The driver was just being an a-hole. Where was Mr. Man last week, when I was again, as far to the right as possible, and one of his beloved Woodside residents blew past me in a HUGE, white pick-up truck, with a BBQ strapped in the back of it, on Kings mountain road, missed me by an inch or so (again, no oncoming traffic) and then turned into his driveway? Where was Mr. Man 4 years ago, when some stupid woman ran me off the Kings Mountain descent and I crashed into the ditch, breaking my helmet and denting the sh*t out of some residents fence (said fence kept me from falling down the ravine). 8 out of 10 times I ride in Woodside, I nearly get pegged by some jerk-off motorist, trying to MAKE A POINT. As cyclists, we don't really bother filing complaints, because we know nothing will be done.

But if you're a Woodside resident and mad because some horde of cyclists makes you sit behind them for about 1 minute or so, watch out. The Sheriff's got your back.

Me thinks I'll start spending my Wednesday evenings at the track, where there are no Sheriffs or rich, angry residents with nothing better to do than bug the cops and prevent them from tracking down the speeders, stop-sign runners, drug dealers, meth labs, pimps, prostitutes and bank robbers plaguing the community at large.

New climbing keyword

Wednesday, I went on a long lunch ride. My coach wanted me to do some AT (Anaerobic Threshold - in layman's terms: HR is high and it hurts!) efforts. 1x10 and 1x20 minutes. I figured I'd do the 1x10 on Jefferson, since it's pretty easy to get my HR up to 170 bpm climbing, but there was some construction. By the time I got going, I got 9 minutes in, before it turned downhill and my HR went back down. Fine.

So I ride out to Woodside, trying to hit the bathroom at Tripp and Kings. Foiled! It was closed. Augh. So I headed over to Old La Honda. Knowing, that worst case, I could use the bathroom at the intersection of Skyline and 84. I really wanted to go BEFORE I climbing OLH, but that's the way it goes.

Felt like crap climbing Jefferson, so was a bit nervous about OLH. It's way longer, way harder, and I'd just done it last Saturday. Got a less than stellar time, but it was raining, sloppy and I was on my heavy, rain bike. Honestly, all I wanted to do was get a better time than Saturday. I was on my climbing machine (Orbea), so I felt confident that I could beat the time. It took awhile to get my HR up there, but once it was at 170, it stayed put. I kept my speed around 7 mph, and kept at it. Around the half-way mark, I checked my time. Damn! I was making some serious time! I decided to just keep at it, and keep going till I hit the top, or blew up. If I blew, I could ride slowly to the top, so no harm, no foul. I'd have gotten my 20 min AT effort in, so that'd be good. I was even doing so well that I'd forgotten to use my climbing "keyword", MAGNIFICENT! Usually that keeps my mind off of the pain, and makes me laugh.

Anyone who climbs this hill knows this spot. The spot where the road narrows, because there's a huge tree growing to the right of the road. Probably the left too, but all I know is the road becomes one lane. It's absolutely breathtaking. Of course, my HR was so high, that I was already breathless, but I digress. As I'm approaching the "trees", I hear a car approaching behind me. Because I'm nice, I sped up and got over to the right as quickly as possible, all the while praying said car would wait till I had more room. Since they did, I waved to them, thanking them. They passed me and gunned the engine. Okay, that was weird, but whatever. After they were a "safe" distance away, the female passenger yells "BITCH!". WTF? Dude, I was THANKING you! I hold up my right hand like, "What's your problem?" and they slam on the brakes. "Cool, I can go tell them how fricking stupid they are, since I was thanking them." Trust me, if I was being a bitch, they'd have known it. As I get closer, they change their mind and speed off. Chickenshits.

I was pretty mad, and I kept thinking, "Dang, what's wrong with them? Stupid morons", but then I decide to just turn that anger into energy. I'm really good at that. I used my anger to keep turning the pedals over and driving uphill. Near the top, I realized that I was going to do really well, so when the road got all bumpy and un-even (the end), I was up out of the saddle, driving to the finish. When I hit the stop sign, I stopped the computer.

I'd just clocked my best time on Old La Honda. EVER. And it was the last day of January. I rode to a time 3.5 minutes FASTER than I'd done only 4 days earlier. Wait till June... I might actually achieve my time goal for OLH this season!!! Only 1.5 more minutes to shave off!

Gosh, if they'd called me the C word, I might have gotten a sub 20-minute climb! Too bad I didn't see them at the top, otherwise I'd have arranged to be in their way again next time I climbed it!

Oh yeah. My new keyword for climbing? BITCH! It was easy to explain "MAGNIFICENT" when someone heard me say it aloud. This one's gonna be a bit harder to explain...

Cheerio!

S t r e s s and stupid people

Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow, is a court hearing for a man, a drunk, a total f*cking idiot who ran over my former teammate whilst riding her bike, on the day before Christmas Eve. I received news of her accident that evening, while in Seattle for holiday. I felt so helpless, being so far away, and being able to do nothing. I promised her husband I'd be there for the court hearing, as it was the day of my return. Naturally, my flight was delayed, but I made it anyway. The hearing was postponed. Till tomorrow.

Mind you, she is a strong person. The strongest, most stubborn individual I've ever known. I knew by listening to her husband (a doctor) that she would be fine. Her husband setup a website to keep all of her friends, family and the cycling community apprised of her progress. You can see it at: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/maryannlevenson . It's really great, and he updates it daily.

Now here's the kicker. The granddaughter of the "accused" (and I say this loosely, since he was actually detained by witnesses, arrested and spent the night in jail), had the audacity to post to her caringbridge web-site. WTF? Oh I'm sure she was sorry, but my guess is that she is sorrier her grandfather is being painted as a drunk, than the fact that he seriously injured, and nearly killed a human being, wife and mother of 3 rambunctious boys. My favorite line is: "Changing lanes is dangerous." Of course it is, especially when someone changes 2 lanes and then rolls into the bike lane, and then it's really fricking dangerous for a cyclist in said bike lane. My 2nd favorite line in the post was that Walter Sorensen (drunk, old fart, stupid man, and yes, I hope he and his lame-ass granddaughter find this, read it, and then I dare them to contact me) mistook a living, breathing, MOVING human being on a bike, IN the bike lane, for an "inanimate object" lying in the road. I wish that someone would explain to me how one is unable to distinguish between a person and an inanimate object. God, how bombed, or old and feeble is he that he can't figure this sh*t out? Damn. Maybe he shouldn't be driving any longer, hmmm? I don't know, call me crazy. Good people take responsibility for their actions. Bad people just make excuses.

Hopefully, by posting this rant, I can behave myself in court tomorrow and not embarrass MaryAnn, her husband, their boys, their attorney and the rest of my cycing community. I think I can. I hope I can!!!

Virgin voyage

First blog, first post, first rainy day in a while.