The Wheel Just Keeps Spinning...

I love that I wrote this 2 years ago!!

The Preverbal wheel just keeps on spinning or in my case rotates a few times and then ends up swinging back to the valve be in the down position.
This is not a bad thing at all. I'm back in a bike shop. How how the hell did I end up here? Well I went looking for it and it was the first job I landed. I love working in bike shops or for bicycle companies, I really do. There are just a couple of things that bother me about it. so let the rant begin.

A) Your significant other is not your ventriloquist doll!!!!
      If you come in with your loved one, to help them purchase a bicycle you are not them. You do not know what they need because you know them. Your feedback is appreciated but for fuck sakes let them speak. Let us have a conversation so I can do my job and find them the right bike for their happiness and comfort. Comfort being the right word.
I see this so much more with men who bring in their female counterparts than I do vice versa, but I have seen it the other way on occasion. I spend my entire life reading about bikes and components and what not. Having you contradict my every word because of your short amount of experience on your Target purchased fucking mountain bike that you use to commute every day is I dare say....infuriating. I don't come to your job and tell you the ins and outs of financial planning or brain surgery so shut the fuck up. I take my job just as serious you do, because if I fail I can make your significant others free time not enjoyable or even unsafe. If the two wheels of freedom that you suggest is not the right bike it can lead to injury, fights amongst you two, or even worse a bad wreck that cases severe trauma. Let me do my thing. Stop fighting me because of your fucking ego that someone might know more than you! I will validate your correct points but complete bullshit I will not allow. Knobby tires do not mean fewer flats or a smoother easier ride. Shut the fuck up and let US speak.

B) I have to sell two brands that morally, I have hard time with. Their frames are really on point and from what I have seen they spec a good product. Here is the kicker, I don't agree with their business tactics past, present, or future.

Company A, they are a sue happy brand that has gone after small businesses for intellectual rights so many damn times since I got into this business that when someone asks if I saw the article about the new lawsuit, we usually have to spend 10 minutes figuring out which one they are referring to. I understand protecting your brand, it is part of business, but I do not understand the concept of hit anything that has a 1% similarity to your brands and trademarks because you know you have more money than they do; and they will just acquiesce so they don't go bankrupt. It just really rubs me the wrong way. I don't like seeing a huge brand trash the small businesses. Especially since it is usually small mom and pops type places that sell their product and it just really seems hypocritical to me.

Company B, is another brand that has left a bad taste in my mouth. They were one of the strongest American brands a short decade or so ago. They make a phenomenal product which I love and at one time or another have thought of purchasing. That was until I went to the other side of the business and met people who lost everything due to them and their lawyers. They went bankrupt a short time ago and were on the verge of going belly up. They were acquired by another company that righted the ship and everyone in lala land cheered "yes we didn't lose another American brand"! What everyone else didn't see was how the companies that supported this brand were treated in the aftermath.
 A man who I had many a conversation with, and one of the brands I worked for relied on for finishing product, used to make finishing product for this brand. When all of the bankruptcy and buyout hoopla  went on, this brand owed him a significant, and I do mean significant, amount of money for product that he supplied, on terms to help them stay afloat. When they went down he didn't see his money. After all was said and done he was left with literally pennies on the dollar for years of being a nice human and overall a good practicing business man. I know he should of protected himself a little more but when you have been in business with another company for decades you don't expect the owners of that company to shaft you. The not being paid what he was owed, on top of the economic crash of 2008, plus this brand moving their production out of country and not utilizing his services anymore, caused him to go from a 10+ man operation to 4 including himself. I know only 6-12 people lost their jobs but it still fucking bugs me when i have to peddle their wares and know they are making a great deal of profit off my sale.

C) My final point of contention. Bicycle shops are businesses. We have to generate revenue to stay afloat so we can have you come in and belittle everything we do. When we tell you there is a labor charge, it is not because we just want an extra 15 bucks out of you. It is business. We have mechanics who have to be paid. What they get paid hourly times that by 1.3 and that is what the company actually pays for them.  So if they get paid $12.50/hr the company is actually paying around $16.25/hr. Their salary plus employment taxes and etc.., that the business has to pay. Then there is the electricity, tools, safety equipment, that while the sales do cover some of it, they don't cover all of it. We do this to cover our expenses. Just because these are bicycles does not mean that it shouldn't cost anything in labor to repair them. It is still your safety at hand really. Next time you go to your dealership with your Audi S7 on $3000 dollar wheels, argue with them about the labor fee to have your brakes installed. See what happens. Or I don't know, if you don't like paying for labor, buy the tools and learn how to do it your goddamn self. Stop wasting my time or patience with your ranting about how labor charges in a bicycle shop are just another way to generate zero cost profit and we are trying to rip you off for $15 bucks to install new carbon pads and a new cable and housing for your $10,000 tri bike so you can come in 31st in your age group in the no-name sprint tri in August.

I really do love this business and for the most part my customers. I live off of seeing other people happy on bicycles. When customers come back to me, after riding for a few weeks on a new bicycle that I helped them decide on, with a grin or a smile covered in sweat it makes my heart jump. I feel I have kept the wheel a spinning. It's not much in the way of financial greatness but I feel I have entered greatness by being the "bike guy"!

Hey look it's me.

This isn't an exploratory or adventures post.

I woke up this morning and was kind of down. I knew it would happen, being new, not knowing that many people. I almost started to question my move. Almost.

I love hanging out with people and I get lonely easily. Since I have been single I have been down on myself. All of the same bullshit everyone goes through. I'm not a pussy hound or a rebound guy, never have been. All the same I kind of want to meet new people, women specifically. Then that fear creeps in. The one that I have let over take me for the past 5 years. I'm not good enough, good looking enough, I have bad credit, I don't have a nice apartment, my teeth are fucked up, blah blah blah. That shit that doesn't seem to get most others down, but occasionally kicks me straight in the taint and then grazes the sack on the way back out. Just enough to double me up into the fetal position.

This morning that started to creep in. I'll never be in a relationship or get to date anyone again started to push down upon my synapses and almost take over my brain. I was almost ready to go curl up on my bed and just watch Netflix all day. Then I started to think about all the hot, beautiful, sexy, intelligent, awesome fucking women I have dated or had sex with. Why did they date me?

Why did Heather date me when I was living in a garage with two other guys and we had no money? Why did Amber who made 10 times what I did come over to that same garage or put up with me living on my moms couch when I had hernia surgery? Why Are all of my Exes still friends of mine? Why did Jenna start dating me?

I'll tell you why, not my looks, my bank account, not my style. MY fucking personality! My friends (real friends) love me because I say what is on my mind, I'm arrogant but confident, I can be witty, and I try to learn both sides of a story or a problem before I rush to judgement. I used to never let my finances, looks, or living situation or lack there of affect me. I know how to have fun and will do it at anytime. It may not be flying to Tahiti or rushing off to London to have Tea, but fuck you if I'm not awesome. I can make an entire patio of strangers laugh at me, at you, or with me and with you. I don't know much but I do know I'm fucking awesome and I have a multitude of friends, loved ones, and hot ass exes, well most of you anyways to prove it.

PS if you are questioning wether you were one of the hot ones... you probably were not. Love ya.

Whitewash and Circumstance

“Like it? Well I don’t see why I oughtn’t to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?”
This line stuck with me as I went exploring the past few days. I'm not sure why, but it did.

So Thursday night I got a text from an old customer of mine saying I needed to send a resume to a bicycle shop down in DUMBO (Down Under Manhattan Bridge Overpass). Well I was a little liquored so I decided I would do it Friday morning since having a clearish head is always better than a few vodka tonics deep. Well I woke up Friday, sent off my resume and decided I would go check out this area DUMBO maybe even check out the shop to introduce myself. I got up made breakfast, checked some emails, showered and got dressed. Hopped on the A, and short time later I was in Brooklyn Heights. I quickly got my bearings and proceeded to walk off in the direction of DUMBO. I had read up a little on this neighborhood, huge art/music area in the 70's/80's and 90's given the name by its residents otherwise just know as Brooklyn. It was know for the amount of murals and graffiti on almost every building. Well imagine my surprise when I got there and there was little to none of that. I took no pictures because if you have been to Downtown Fullerton and seen the new "old town apartment" buildings they have put up lately then you have seen most of DUMBO. Beautiful brick buildings plastered and painted with modern interpretations of what old towns would look like. Graffiti painted over; and murals all but none existent. It was blasé. The streets were lined with Audi's, BMW's, Mercedes, Lexus' and all other make of yuppy transportation. All with ski racks and bicycle racks. It was disheartening to say the least. This area which once was a spot of inspiration and beauty was now an homage to vomit inducing gentrification. Well at least the bicycle shop was fucking cool. A non-profit shop that rebuilds donated bikes to sell to invest back into the community. They also teach youths how to work on bicycles through school sanctioned events. I kinda of really like it. Check em out if you get a chance http://www.recycleabicycle.org Susan is a badass and for some reason really reminds me of Heather Starr.

Well from there I decided to head over to the Brooklyn Bridge and give a walk. It is awesome a path suspended above the cars with a  view of the city and the harbor that is awe inspiring.

Walkway above cars

Harbor, Governor's Island, Statue of Liberty way off in the background

Financial District From Brooklyn Bridge

 I proceeded to walk into the Financial District once again and this time just walk around get used to it. It has no numbered streets for the most part and are all names. So I wanted to get used to it. I didn't take pictures of anything but I had a rad time. I spent the better part of 3 hours down there. I tried to go see the NYSE but viewing has been off limits since 9/11.

Well with a full 8 hours of exploring I decided to go home, get some food and hit the sack. I was bound to do more the next day.

Saturday I woke up and had no clue what I was going to do. I texted Carlos to go to brunch but found out he had traveled back to California for the weekend. He was hanging out with my dog and sent me video and pictures to rub it in. Well with that knowledge where should I go? I meet someone who found out I kinda like books and they told me of this place called Strand Book Store. Off Broadway and 14th. So I hopped on the A again got down to where I should of transferred to the L but it was down for the weekend due to maintenance and them expanding the subway system. So I hoofed it on over across 14th St and ended up in Union Square. There was a farmers market going on and the food all looked delicious, fresh this, home made that, lots and lots of wine. Puppies everywhere. It was awesome. But I had a place to go.

Strand Book Store is massive. It is old school. Double sided metal racks from floor to 15' tall ceilings held stable by odd placed scraps of 2x4's. Tables of books all over the place. It was overwhelming to say the least. I got no pictures because you can't stand in one spot too long there were so many people in there. Funny thing I see more people reading books than E-readers such as Kindle's Nook's or iPads and tablets. I figured in a city like this with the fact that you have to carry everything everywhere you would see tons of electronics. Not so much.

Well from there I went a meandering. I walked and walked east and a little south. I ended up in the LES (lower east side) and Alphabet City. LES is all intent and purpose the Silver Lake of Manhattan. Cool young sheik hipsters, bodega's and pizza joints replaced with Organic coffee houses and Vegan Thai restaurants. Buildings stripped of their dirt and replaced with painted bricks. Not a lot of Graffiti anymore at street level. Just a few murals here and there. I only took one picture of a mural because I felt disrespectful taking a photo of most them because they were dedications to the deceased.

Joe Strummer is Dead Jedi. Did you know that?

I love PSA Graffiti!

As I walked around LES and Alphabet City I noticed a great deal of Gardens and Parks.  Not to mention all of the trees on every street here in NYC except the Financial District. Most of them are closed due to it being winter and really all there is walkways and snow. I can't wait for spring and summer to see all of them in bloom. I came across one that was open and people were doing some work on it. There was this awesome branch construct that I was intrigued by.

What is this Construction?

Ladder to a lookout!!

Well I walked around some more and came across awesome people and beauty all day. The thing that kept grabbing at me was the "whitewashing" of this whole city. Distinct neighborhoods that I grew up reading about, learning about and seeing through band videos, artwork, documentaries, where being blended out. Alphabet City is a place I was told before I got here that white people didn't venture into 20 years ago. It wasn't if you were gonna get mugged, but when you were gonna get mugged. I walked around for hours near housing projects and lowly corners always being smiled at and never feeling in danger. Not saying I want to get mugged, but there is some awesomeness to feeling a tinge of fear and the only fear I had was where the hell is the subway platform and man I still can't afford to live over here.

Well with that full day of exploring and my hands getting numb I decided time for a cocktail. So I headed over to the sheets again and proceeded to "break" every drink the staff could throw at me. After a few hours I rolled out and headed home. The whole time I sat in the subway station waiting for my train I just heard Tom Sawyer in my head “Like it? Well I don’t see why I oughtn’t to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?”

Central Park Why you so big?

So Sunday I woke up and decided I was going to do so more exploration. I didn't know where or what but I was going to get out some more. I have done that about every other day. This city is so awesome and there is so much to see and I want to see it all.

Well it started with the park across the street from my apartment. It is big but there is this strange Tower in the far corner from what I can tell and it seems the park sits on a cliff. So I went a walking and I was actually surprised the park is not as big as it seems. It was rather a short trek from my door to the tower all in all 5 minutes or so.

What is this tower?

There is nothing there about what this tower is, why it exists, or when it was built? Not here at this location. But it is freaking cool and completely gated off. It sits like a lone soldier of time in a world ever advancing. I was going to hop the gate but what you don't see in the picture is the four park employees that were walking around picking up trash. I did find out what it was though. I'll get to that. 

Well my stomach started acting up, and cut the exploration of Rape/Murder park, (as my friend B and C like to call it), short. So I walked on home, grabbing my laundry from the laundry mat, and went to the restroom. I did see what I wanted to see so there was that. I also got this rad shot 

Bronx from across the Harlem Aqueduct on a cold morning!

Well being of strong testicular fortitude I was not going to give up so I quickly hopped on the A down to 125th street transferred to the C and got down to 110th. The Far northwest corner of Central Park. Man is it awesome. As I entered the park the path led me to a traffic lane which was divided into walking, Running, and cycling. It was so busy and congested it reminded me of riding the river trail 11am or so on Sundays. People everywhere. There was a marathon going on in the park as well as the first Sunday without snow so a great deal of cyclists where there as well. Well I walked up the hill on this path and found a trail that broke to the southwest that was walking only. I don't need my fatness being the hiccup in someone else's day. So I excused myself from the hustle and bustle of the traffic lane. I quickly ended up in snow and on the top of the hill at what they call Grant Hill. I would of shot a picture but it was snow and and a fence and that was it. So I kept walking south/southeast. I went down a hill followed a trail and came across this.

Random Waterfall in Central Park which there are many

Old stone bridge crossing the stream from the waterfall.

I walked through the bridge and quickly was in a little pasture opening in the trees with no pathways and surrounded by multiple creeks and streams. It reminded me of being on the farm in Colorado in winter. I stood in that area for about 20 minutes until some random runner came out of nowhere and interrupted my peaceful moment. I still have no clue where he came from, but whatever.

I proceded to walk some more and I just wandered along trails and paths with no direction in mind and no idea of where to go. No mission just trying to get lost in Central Park. I found myself near the North field which is fenced off due to the snow and them wanting the grass to be strong in the spring, I saw Blue Jays and Red breasted finches, huge fat fucking squirrels which we will get to. I couldn't get pictures though because I'm slow as shit with my phone camera. 

I ended up on the East side of the Park about three quarters of the way up. Near 5th Ave. I didn't want to leave the park so I hung a quick left when I saw another trail. I walked up it not knowing where it would lead and as I crested the top of it I found this;

Jackie-O Reservoir. Kind of hard to see but there is the fountain in the middle

I walked around this snow and ice covered manmade lake, for what seemed like forever. Always south and for a moment a little west.

As I walked I came across lochs or some call them dam buildings. They are really beautiful in their construction and architecture and have stood for decades if not a century and a half. 

Well as I kept walking I came across the main loch which was huge and beautiful and led out to the main street. It was covered in plaques and tourist information about the water and irrigation system of Manhattan, which lo and behold is the last place I would of thought to look for my original conquest The TOWER!!

Signage telling the tower was part of the original gravity fed water system of New York along with Harlem High Bridge.

 Well with that mystery solved I looked around to see where I should head and was stunned. There is one of the places I want to visit and forgot about in the overwhelming nature of this city. I proceeded to cut out a course for this place of beauty and headed due east then North then East again. I walked along muddy, icy, slushy paths, slipping every once and awhile. I was going to get there. I exited the Park at 5th Ave and I believe 90th St. I walked southbound on 5th Ave and came across this Beauty of a Cathedral.

Church of Rest 

 Well after a block or so I came to it. I was there. This monument to art and beauty. The Guggenheim. When I was going to school for design this place always grabbed me. I dreamt of spending days inside of it. It is marvelous. And much smaller than it appears in MIB. It is awesome though to look at. I attempted to walk up to the front door but the place was packed. You can't see it in the picture but there was a line already at the front door and inside.

Guggenheim from corner of 5th Ave and 88th St

So with the museum being packed and not wanting to drop $25 to be overwhelmed and annoyed with other people I proceeded back into the park after walking down 5th for a few blocks. Then I remembered Carlos said something of a Castle. I will find it I said. I walked along the North Edge of the Met and looked to the Northwest. There it was the castle. Belvedere Castle to be exact.

From the main Terrace looking out over Turtle Pond

From the Main Terrace looking at Belvedere Castle

From the top Terrace looking down upon the two lower Terraces

The Tower of the Castle

What the Castle is used for now.

So after that I continued on. No direction just meandering along paths and trails. Remember the Squirrels. Here is one of those fearless bastards right now. They are not afraid of humans and will still your food. This one was 4 feet away from me and we sat and stared at each other for at least 2 minutes.

You wanna fight bro!

 The final part of my exploration brought me to Strawberry Fields. No clue what this place was just knew it had something to do with the Beatles song. I walked up a short hill and came to this.

Memorial for John Lennon. 

This is in memory of John Lennon and his life. This is the area Lennon was shot. He and Yoko's apartment at the time is directly at my back in this picture. I still say six inches to the left would of made the world a better place. It kind of choked me up. I remember when my grandmother called my mom to say Lennon had been shot. I had no clue who that was, I just remember I hated him because he made my mom cry. I was barely 5 years old. 

Well that is enough and way to big of a post but hey, it was a lot to take in. I'm going to try and keep up on this for some people who asked me to do this. Next one will be shorter.

To became Away.

This might be a "Vaguebook" type post but it is a thought that hit me today and it was all I could do not to stop and cry.

How did "to" become "away".

In the last 4 months or so my life went from being all about the moments and journeys to time management and destinations. There are stretches of my travels via bicycle that I have all but come to hate. The reason is they have changed in their purpose and or meaning. One of these routes is about 1.5 miles long, if that.

I won't bore you with points A and B because you might be able to pick up on it if you pay attention. Plus, like I said this is a vaguebook style post; pointing out the obvious would make that statement null and void. So on with what I was talking about before I saw shiny and digressed like a man that has used way too many mind altering substances.

This segment that I was speaking of used to be the route I rode to get "to" a weekly moment of fun. I would ride it daily and certain markers along the way made me happy because they were tick marks and obstacles that marked how long until I was at the place I would have a "moment" of fun. When they were tackled in reverse they were even better because they meant my return to the origin of my trip and peace and relaxation, love and cuddles, breakfast burritos and laughs. I didn't realize that until today.

Today I realized why that section of road traveled aggravated me lately. Now I ride "to" what used to be the point of origin. I have a set amount of time to get it done and what I came to do daily. It bums me out. What used to be a flight to fun and a return to happiness is now a trip to regret and painful departure from what once was. It will change one day hopefully. Now it just sucks the life out of my legs and ways heavy on my heart. It is really hard to pedal when you hold back lakes of tears and just want to sit down and give up.

Remember the Face of your Father, young gunslinger!

So I'm going to try and put into words what Fathers' Day means to me. It is a hard subject to realize for me and has over the years been a point of contention/aggravation in my mind. So here goes.

As a young boy my Father was not really in my life. There are many reasons for this but I won't bore you with the details of kid-knapping, craziness, and constant moving. Let's just say that some of it could be in a Chuck Palahniuk novel. Other parts not so much. I would see him, during the early years, twice a year if I was lucky. Before you all go dead beat dad on him, understand part of it is my mom's fault. But that is not the point of this.

I grew up knowing a couple of things about my Dad.

A) He was very talented with his hands. He was an airplane Mechanic, a Master Carpenter, and could fix anything. Example of this is when he and my mom got married he decided no store bought bed would do. So he crafted an entire water bed minus the bladder and heating element out of wood. I think a really nice oak. It was carved and burnt and sculpted. Everyone of my Mom's friends that saw it, wanted one and would ask where to get one. Her response was usually "Marry my ex Pete, and he'll make you one."
B) He is actually a damn genius. He got into trouble while attending College before he went into the Military. He was thrown out of a physics class, for arguing over future uses of lasers in society. His teacher said they were too powerful to be used in day to day life. Pops said they would be used to let you know when someone was entering or exiting a building, reading product info, and transmitting information over distance. He also told me back when I lived with him in Guam 90-91(another time another story) that I was an idiot for buying CD's, Tapes, Records. His exact words were "Jesse you're an idiot wasting your money on that crap. In a few years you will be able to store your music digitally on a device that is about as long and wide as a credit card, and about as thick as six of them." See what I mean. Genius.
C) He is crazy. Not crazy like "hey I shot my wife while fucking my dog" crazy. But not afraid of anything crazy. He never has been. He is not afraid to pack up and move to a country he has never been and try and start a company. He's not afraid, at the young age of 64, to get back on a bull and compete. He is awesome.
D) He is very talented. I have seen him play guitar and sing. He is awesome. He used to sing "Sad Songs and Waltz" to me as a child to put me to sleep. Sure he is all about Country and Western (the real stuff not your pop crap) But man can he do it well. When he and my mom first met he was a Rodeo junkie, my whole family is involved in that. But he used to play with the likes of Chris Ledoux R.I.P.. Chris and my Dad were really good friends, mom tells stories of Chris crashing on our couch when I was a youngin.

Knowing those things combined with the fact that I never really got to grow up seeing him, made my opinion of Father's Day confusing. On a day like that I would see my friends hang out with their lame, boring, ho-hum nothing exciting, white collar Dad's and wonder why I couldn't hang out with my freaking awesome Dad. Why did I have to learn how to play football from another Dad who just needed a spot filled on his team. Not from my Pops who was a bad-ass? Why did I have to learn to shave at 11 on my own with my Mom's razor and lava soap. Not like the scene from Lethal Weapon with the guiding hand of my father. Why did my friends get to build their first car with their Dads who didn't know a spanner from a cresent wrench when my Dad could fix a bent flywheel on the way home from Golden to Albuquerque, in his El Camino, with a hand file and floor jacks. Why?

Now as an adult I see things differently. I get to look back and cherish the times we did spend together and the ones we will get to. I get to look back at the time I rode from Tucson Az to Florida on top of a steamer trunk not being able to stand or sit in the back of my Dad's Might Max with a camper shell on it, listening to Dion and wrapping embroidery yarn on numbered cards for my step mom and realize that was freaking awesome. No kid has that story with their dad just me.
 I get think about the time when I sliced my big toe almost completely off on clam shells in the Black Snake River and my Dad yelling at me "Stop crying, you weren't crying before you saw the blood, so don't start now." How my step-mom sewed it back on, we wrapped it up with gauze and duct-tape and went to Disney World that week. Where I hobbled around stubbornly, while Dad tried not to let on that he was concerned/scared about me.
I get to look back at when I lived in Guam and went scuba diving with him, or when we got stuck in our apartment during a Typhoon and we used 3/4 plexi to board up the windows so we could watch the craziness, and we passed the time by throwing stuff out the balcony into the crazy fast winds, giggling like school girls. We even threw out a broken crappy 11" T.V. and were amazed by how it took off and up like a bat out of hell.
I get to look back at when I had my nose almost severed off, sitting in the hospital while they were stitching my nose back on, trying to make jokes to keep my bad-ass of father from crying. I got those no one else does.

See this is where my Dad was a badass Dad. I really don't have those memories of Dad being a drunken jerk. or Dad beating me to a pulp, or Dad grounding me. Sure when I lived with him we got into arguments and one poor attempt at a fist fight on my behalf, but for the most part I got to have a Dad, who unknowingly taught me so much about how to live life. I'm am so freaking thankful for that, that I now, at an older age, tend to forget all the negative of growing up without a Dad constantly around.

So with all that being said, in a very long-winded manner I apologize for, Dad Happy Father's Day! I love you.

She be bombing!

So I have kept quiet about this topic for the past few days, but no longer. Asshole damn is broken. There is a story of a young African American girl who was expelled from school for a "science experiment" going around and everyone is saying this is a race related event, or gender related event. No this is a stupidity related event.
The school is saying she made a bomb, which by the very definition of bomb "a container filled with explosive or incendiary material, designed to explode" is exactly what she made.
She is claiming she didn't know what would happen. I don't believe that at all. She was an A student in her sophomore year and in chemistry classes. My 7th grade year in basic science it was explained to me acids and aluminum were like modern day democrats and republicans they don't play nice with each other and if you lock them in a tight space there is going to be an explosion.
Now let us see what is the primary active ingredient in most liquid drain cleaners; Water? Nope! Bacon? Nope! Oh yeah it's Sulfuric Acid. See that last word ACID. It says it on the bottle usually in big letters. What happens when you put aluminum and acid together is a very strong and quick chemical reaction comes about releasing gases. Now if the reaction is taking place in an open environment you just get some rotten egg smelling gases, might make you a little sick. If you lock it up or seal it in a bottle you are going to get a pressurized device that if not made of a strong material will fail with violence, as it tries to escape. I know this because I used to do this with 2 liter soda bottles, a half liter of Muriatic Acid (Hydrocloric Acid HCL) and moms aluminum foil. Used to set them off on my street when I was about 13-14 years old and run like hell. They would set off car alarms and bleach the pavement. Usually only took about 30-45 secs. I knew not to do it at school because it would be considered a bomb. At 13 I understood this concept. Somehow she did not. Even though she is 2 years older than I was at the time, a Sophomore, an A student and in chemistry class.
Now why did I bring up the race thing. I have yet to see any proof that her school district, school, administrators, teachers or whoever else let non African American students get away with the exact same thing. I have yet to see that they didn't expel another student for setting off fireworks, which when I was in high school a buddy of mine got expelled for lighting off the little black cats, which are mini little bombs, even though he set them off no where near other students and didn't even cause any damage to the parking lot. No suspension just straight expulsion on to continuation school. I have yet to see that they did not expel any other student for similar acts of stupidity.
As for gender once again I have yet to see any reports that they let a male get away with this exact same thing.
Bring me the info showing it was race or gender biased and I'm 100% on board and will scream to the heavens inequality, unfair, and fuck Florida once again.
Now with all that being said do I think the punishment was harsh, maybe a tad over board. But if this was lets say the class jack ass male or female there wouldn't have been an article about it. It would of just been local gossip "Did you hear So'n'So made a bomb at school" No national attention, just everyday life. Part of life, especially in high school, is learning that actions have consequences. Think about your high school jack ass. No one batted a god damn eye when I got suspended or sent home, it was just Jesse being Jesse.

Failure is Always an Option!

Over the past few years and especially over the past few months I have gotten the question or statement or whatever you want to call it "Why?" "Why do you/they do __________(insert activity) that causes you bodily harm?"

See 8 years ago I got back on a bicycle after getting off one in 1993. I started riding cyclocross, mtb, fixed, and road. I loved it. My first day on the Fullerton Loop I was riding a friends single speed cyclocross bike, at mile 1.5 out of 11.5 I wrecked. I superman'd over the bars (OTB might be used again in this post) into a bank on the other side of a little ditch I was riding through. I had not laughed so hard or been more freaked out at the same time, in 12 years. I knew right then I missed being on a bicycle. Since then I don't think a month has gone by that I haven't hit the deck. I never think I shouldn't do that again. Is that wrong?

Now go back 9 months ago and I got my 24" freestyle MTB frame, a Black Market Bicycle Co. Contraband. Since I have gotten that I have injured myself weekly. I have gone OTB, looped out, snapped a chain and drove my knee into a 45 degree bank, and just last weekend I tried a feeble pedal grind for the first time ever (front wheel on the grind box along with pedal and crank arm trying to control slide) the bike shot out from under me and I landed straight on my ass, back, and head (wearing a helmet before you preachers come after me). I got up said "God Damn that hurt!" then proceeded to laugh hysterically and the giggle fits ensued for the next 2 hours.

When I tell other people of my wrecks, their response is usually one of two different ones;
A) "OOOH, Ouch that sounds bad" or
B) "Why would you do something that you obviously are not good at?"

My reason and the only reason I need. Fear!

Fear of what you ask. Simple.......the future.

Most people look at the future as a good thing, retiring, traveling the world, luxury vacations, guided tours, 2 week cruises, growing old, becoming a grandparent, advisor, bbq's with the family. You know the standard bullshit. The average maximum age in the US is 78. I'm 1.5 years away from the half way point. From here on out I'm the old guy ( in age not mentality). The future of my life scares the shit out of me. I usually don't think about it. I am now for your enjoyment and thanks alot assholes. Now I'm all angst-y.

Here is the thing, most people I have met who are 60+ are dying. Not dying like we are all doing right now, but suffering from some ailment. Wether it be something insignificant like minor arthritis or something severe like cancer. They are all suffering. Sure they go on tours but it is guided and planned or touristy. I don't want to wake up one day and be like so many elderly people I have met that most of their ailments are work related i,e.; bad back, hyper tension from work related stress , bad joints due to standing all day, poor circulation due to sitting all day, carpal tunnel syndrome due to typing all day. I want my injuries and ailments, when I get old to have bitchin stories to go with them. I want someone to ask why I can't extend my left arm fully and I respond with "Well let me tell two different awesome accidents that caused that......."

The other part of that fear of the future is the fear of regret. I don't want to get to an old age and think "Man I wished I would of tried that feeble pedal grind when I was younger." or "Man I wish I would of done ________." I already do that now and it scares the crap out of me that I do that. I try not to because "the past is in the past and I'm moving on!" should be everyones motto, but I catch myself doing it and it un-nerves me.

Well yeah so there you have it. The ramblings from an almost middle aged, peter-pan syndrome, 15 year old in a man's body, idiot, that in all actuality probably make no sense, as I really don't care about editing. If you get this, than awesome. If not, sorry! I don't speak english all that well.

Another day, another 50 cent piece?

Doesn't roll off the tongue quite as nice does it, but that is the true reality of life these days, nothing ever comes easy anymore. As I sit here at work trying to figure out how to help the company, I'm bored. I can't think of a great... anything. Trying to think of ways of attracting attention to the company, and lets face it the only way I know how to get attention is by getting really drunk, getting naked and then urinating on someone's pillow case. I don't think that is a great social image for the old business.

In bicycle related stuff I'm trying to come up with a simple paint scheme for a limited edition frame and fork. The only color that runs through my dome is HOT PINK!!! I love that color. I'm thinking of masking it to make pink ovals all over the frame set. Not sure yet.

NOt sure yet brings up another idea, who the fuck do I vote for this year. Holy shit the pickings are slim. Not much that I want to associate myself with. I think I would be better off if Jesse Custer told me to go fuck myself.

If you haven't read this comic I suggest that you do. It is awesome. You'll get my go fuck yourself hint. As comics go this is the one that started me into the comic world and it is in my eyes one of the best things ever written. Other ones that I suggest are Transmetropolitan, Y- The Last Man ( make you cry at the end),

and "The Boys". I shouldn't have to mention the "Watchmen" you should of read that already, and if you haven't I hope you get raped by a bunch or free roaming silverbacks. Why Silverbacks you ask because it's what you need for turning your back on a literary work of genius because it was a comic. READ IT!!! 

Well I got to go return some VHS tapes. 

This is not my home, How did I get here?

It's been awhile since I posted. I haven't been able to find the passion, or I get all worked up about what people will say. Well a bullet and a shovel will solve everything as I always say.

First things first I got a new gig going on. I am working for the Torelli Bicycle company and let me just say it has been fun and stressful all in one. Somedays it is just as easy as punching a stranger in the face, other days it is more stressful than taking the keys away from your drunk friends at a house party.

 "I'm good man see I can balance a beer in one hand while I talk to you." Actually had a friend say that to me. Back to work; I work on frames and I'm helping develop new products as well as talking to customers all day. It is pretty much a dream job.

Speaking of dream jobs there is a group out there called Thought You Knew Pinups that is putting together a rad female cyclist centric pin-up calendar. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I like the idea of more women feeling comfortable in the cycling world considering there is more sausage in this industry than a Oktoberfest celebration, but doesn't seem kind of sad that women have to flaunt what they have to get some attention, or treated equally. To me it seems like it takes a step backwards. Don't get me wrong combining my two favorite things bicycles and women is a great thing and I'm all for women being proud of their bodies, but it seems hypocritical. Maybe I'm just a dumb male that does not fully grasp the strange dichotomy that is a modern day american women.

Speaking of american women, check out this video.

Take away that person's license and that girl with crutches is bad juju. Do not stand next to her, you might die.

Well I got shit to get done and I hope that I at least start making this a weekly habit, much like my other love interest.

Really is it that bad?

So I had my bicycle, the Jake the Snake, stolen last Thursday as I sat in my accounting class. I came out to find nothing. My bike was locked up in a way that prevented pedaling of the bicycle. The first thing that ran through my head was anger. I know what a shocker. I went on an hour walk around Fullerton and I believe I just scared some homeless guys into moving to another city.

The next thing that went through my head was sadness. That bike was my first geared bike that I bought when I got back into bikes. I rode it at least twice a week on the Fullerton Loop. I used to do back to back loops and the only time I did four loops in a row was on the Jake. That bike was raced on by me, and Beatriz Rodriguez. She actually won races on it. When I stopped riding it as much, my girl, Jenna used it as a commuter to get to school and work. With me going back to school I rode it everyday. It brought back memories of friends that I met while on that bike and ones I made because people were in awe of the bright safety cone orange bicycle. The sadness came from the fact I felt like I was reacquainting with a long lost friend. I jammed through downtown Fullerton once again and felt safe because I had my trusted steed under me. When it was take from me, all those feelings seemed ripped apart, just one more time I would have to hold on to the memories and not the physical item. One more time that something that was important to me was taken and I am left with just my mind.

But really is it that bad? It was a possession, a physical item, that can be replaced. I still have my Girl, my dog, my house, food, all my limbs, a family that loves me and friends to hang out with and talk to. I have friend that within hours of me posting the loss, let me borrow my old fixed gear bike, that I sold to him, to run around town on. I have two other bikes to still go on rides with. I feel bad for making a big deal out of it considering that others have had their bikes/cars stolen and that was their only form of transportation. I still have other forms.  I feel like it is wrong for me to be upset considering all that I still have.

But then I think fuck that. Fuck that. I am pissed who is/are these assholes that feel that it is okay to take something that I worked for. I didn't get paid in cash at the bike shop when I purchased that bike. I was paid in parts and the first few months were all dedicated to that bicycle. I watched as others rolled their bikes out everyday, while my bike sat in the window and couldn't go home with me for weeks. I would have to test ride every other bike and build them and fix them, while my bike just sat there. I worked my ass off for that and some chump just walked up and took it. I want to hurt them. I want to break their legs, put them on the bicycle, find a really long hill, put a rope around their neck, and attach it to a car going 12-15 mph. Start going up the hill so they have to pedal with broken legs or die by a drag hanging.  I want to make them work all the hours I did to get that bike, then give them nothing in return for it. I know I know I'm a vindictive asshole. Stop saying it, it is becoming way too cliche.

Stuck?

So I know when I started this I said I would post randomly but frequently. And here it is almost three months later and I have four posts of nothing. My mind is blocked. I'm stuck on a loop. I'm sitting thinking of so many thinks to write about but can't find the start button. I have a shit ton to yell, rant, and or talk about; but none of it comes out when I sit down in front of this blank screen. I try to type something and the brain goes "what if you offend someone?", "Why write no one reads your shit?", "You are too stupid to have an opinion." I know pathetic, but that is my head. It gets in the way of it's self almost everyday. It constantly tells me what I can't do and why I shouldn't do this or that. It sucks because so many see potential in me that my brain just doesn't believe.

Let's just start with the ranting. Fuck politics in the ass with a pitchfork that has lemon juice glazed glass shards glued all over the tines. I'm so sick of hearing about political bullshit. The problem with politics is it's just like religion. Everyone out there thinks their way is the only way to get to the promise land. If it was that easy we would be worry free and drinking champagne out of glasses made from angels and crafted by the ecological friendly heat produced by lighting cherub farts. Here is the problem; politics is not about what works to help or serve others, it's about how people want others to fall in line with them and their beliefs. Politics and religion are in that sense are a selfish interest. Oh and don't give me that crap that people vote for others, very rarely is that the case. Most people vote based on what they can get out of it.

What really pisses me off about politics is peoples blatant need to shove that shit down others throats. I'm sick of seeing posts how Obama is the black Hitler Anti-Christ that is gonna make sure that all people over sixty are killed to line the playgrounds for all children in full padding to play with foam balls. Or Bush killed babies with nukes made from the skin of baby seals wrapped around core sections of the oldest glaciers. I'm sick of seeing the minuscule facts blown out of proportion as if it could start world war three. If Bob Smith accidentally misspelled John Stupid FUQ's name. Big deal. Stop making it out to be the end of the world. People make mistakes all the time. Shit I have had to retype forty plus words in this rant. I know this post is not on par with world politics, but I'm sure you perfect fuckers out there have never made a mistake. Or if you did, you would hope others over look it. What all this shit is A) scare/slander tactics. B) people only looking for the negative in situations. Fuck, you all might be happier and accomplish more if you tried to find the positives in your candidates and stop trying to verbally ass rape your opposition. If I want to win a fist fight I train myself to be the best, I don't go to my opponent's gym and steal all of their training equipment.

Have our leaders done fucked up things? YES! Have they done good things? YES! I know if you are a liberal you can never say that the conservatives have good ideas. You would explode from the pure confusion of believes in your tiny little open minded brain.You would have to drink gasoline and eat endangered species for every meal. And I know if you are a conservative you can never agree/back a liberal because that means you would have to sell your shoes, buy Birkenstocks, eat only vegetables and carry hugs and kisses as a self defense weapon. Here is the truth; both sides are right and both sides are wrong. If we could focus on facts. If we could get over stupid bullshit names and cliques; if we could start by focusing on not pointing out the wrongs with people only seeing the problem with the world, fixing it for all, not just a few, then moving on. Life would be simple. I know, I know; angel forged champagne glasses with cherub farts.

Cyclists = Dicks?

So as you all know I consider myself a cyclist. No I am not a racer, but I am a commuter sometimes, and definitely an enthusiast. I have only got to ride maybe 12 times in 14 weeks (due to injury), I'm 40 lbs over weight, and I smoke. I enjoy my bicycle more than most people can even imagine. I am always happy even when the ride sucks, or I'm tired or bonking. I'm on two wheels and out in the open which equals happy. Knowing this I'm confused as to why people who also ride are such dicks. Not all but there are plenty of you out there to make a blanket statement. 

So on my ride this morning from downtown Fullerton to Anaheim Hills (Monte Vista and Weir Canyon), a hard ride for me, I said hello to everyone. Runners, commuters, racers, everyone. I do this always when I'm on the bike. I have an opinion that if I'm happy doing what I'm doing I should share it and pass it on. I did the whole put a hand as to wave, said morning, even communicated as to which side I would be passing people. I do this always road or mountain. It is a nice gesture, makes riding safer, and may make someones day to let them know others see them and they do exist. I got maybe five return hellos and waves back. Out of about forty attempts. I maybe egotistical but that is a crappy ratio.

Hey Mr/Mrs 45 year old CAT 4 smile when you ride at least announce to others you are gonna pass them. Makes others happy and communication can make sure that all are safe. While I know you are probably at 85% of your max heart rate, focused on make sure you completely exhale every fourth pedal stroke of your left foot so that you do it because you are right foot dominated. A simple fucking wave, or a simple two finger "I am fucking dying here" salute would be nice. Hey you never know a little smile on the ride while you are doing your intense training to the beach and back might make that 300th loss to the 19 year old, whose training consists of 10 miles a day to college and a balanced diet of Carl's Jr. and Taco Bell, a little easier to swallow.

Dear angry commuter, I know that you have to do this. You are eco friendly, lost your car due to the economy, lost your license due to a DUI. I know it sucks because it could be worse, you could not have a bicycle. You have to leave an hour earlier than your friends, it takes you an hour longer to get home. It sucks I get it. Here is a tip, enjoy the fact that you are on a bicycle. You get to be out in the open, see the Egrets in the Santa Ana riverbed, beautiful landscaped yards, and occasionally a really, really attractive person. Hell you might even meet a friend along the way. I say smile, say hello to others, sing a song out loud as you pedal it makes the time go by and makes your trek that much more enjoyable.

All in all a little gesture of happiness could make your day better, make someone else's day better, and you never know might start changing someones opinion of cyclists when they hit the trails with their loved ones for the nice Sunday family outing. 

WTF!!!!

What the fuck is going on. I have been unemployed for over a year so you figure I would be riding my bike or what not more often. Nope, not with my luck. I have been plagued by injuries, sickness, broken bicycles and other things. Here is a list of some of the recent shit that has taken me off the trusted steed. 

1. Gout! 2 weeks.Yeah I suffer from gout the rich mans disease. Started getting bouts of 6 years ago.  Thought at first it was just my bad ankles acting up. You spend all your life playing contact sports and getting injured as much as most people get hair cuts it is gonna catch up to you some day. There are many speculations as to why I have gotten this disease; constant meat diet, not enough rest, but most likely because I have drank myself stupid more times than I can or care to remember. 
2. Knee blowing out. 2 weeks. Goes back to first year in hockey. Was kind of poor and had to use, at that time, 12 year old shin and knee guards. Well every time I hit the ice, which was pretty much every practice and game in that first year, my knees would bruise, swell up and cramp up constantly. I think I had them drained like 15 times that first year and at least once a year after that. Beer and weed helped kill the pain probably helping the gout set in.
3. Severely sprained ankle. 12 weeks and counting. This one is awesome and stupid all in one shot. When I was sixteen I drove my buddy Coop, my girlfriend at the time Nicki, and her friend down to Newport for a day of surfing and skim boarding. Well we road in the morning, rested, then went skim boarding. As I was trying to pull 360’s the wave went out. The board stuck mid rotation and my left foot along with it. My body on the other hand kept a spinning. Here is where it gets gross. I rotated around my ankle almost 360 degrees. I stood up and just like in cartoons my foot came around. Well being the dumb ass I am, I stayed at the beach. I didn’t want to cut everyone else’s day short.  I tried to surf more, failed. I tried to body surf, failed. Walked back to the car at the end of the day, drove everyone home, then went to the hospital where they x-rayed, wrapped, and put my ankle in an air cast. Two weeks later I was Ice skating. So that was the start of a bad ankle. 12 weeks ago I had some garage installer  at my house. I told him to watch out for Jake. “Jake is an escape artist.” I said. Well I come outside and before I can grab Jake I notice the guys tool belt in my yard. Jake bolts down the stairs. My first thought is “oh crap the garage door is open and he is gone.” Before I could even think to look I started to chase after him, why I am not sure. I will never catch him on a descent.  But I did it anyways. About five steps from the bottom my heel slipped off the stair. I then went plummeting to the bottom, my left foot caught the last stair on the arch and then proceeded to roll to the left. Oh yeah I was barefoot. And to make it even more insulting I was sober as well as the door was not open. Well it didn’t hurt that day but the next day it was swollen. I didn’t stay off of it. The day after that it was painful and I couldn’t walk. A week later I finally went to the hospital. Once again x-rayed, and wrapped and a new set of crutches for the ol’ gimper. It still acts up and I have tried to ride a couple of times. Every time I ride I am couch surfing the next day.
4. Broken Bicycle. Constant. Well let us see first wheels. I broke a spoke in the front and repaired it. Magilla at the bike shop said “I need to go through and re-tension them it has been almost 18 months since we built them.” I said sure, well I was off the bike anyways due to above injuries so I handed them over to him. I then proceeded to brag on FB how my hand-built wheels, (which I built under some tutelage) were bomb proof. “2000 miles and only one broken spoke blah blah blah blah blah.” That came back to haunt me the next time I rode. I broke a spoke in the back wheel. I had to limp it on back to the house. I get that up and going and now they went out of true. Fixed that. Lets see how they do tomorrow. Anyone venture to guess? Then we are on to tires which I have gone through three sets in 6 months with only maybe 500 miles in between all three sets. Had Vittoria Diamantes, they wore out. So I installed my white Verdesteins. They cut in only 200 miles. Now I am onto my new Michelin Pro 3’s. Let us see how that goes. They are notorious for cuts.
5. Wasp Sting to the eye area. 3 days and counting. Monday I tried to do a favor for my next door neighbor. I was gonna be wasp killa. She bought the spray and I went to work. I killed 12 nests on her property. Probably over 200 stingy bastards. Well as I entered her half open garage, inside a wall mounted cabinet that I opened the door to was 2 hugh nests. The disturbance of the door swinging aggravated the nests and one flew towards me. I tried batting at it hoping to get the sting in the hand or arm or not at all. The quick little bastard thwarted my attempts at striking it and landed a knock out blow next to my right eye. It hurt like hell. Worse than I have ever been punched in the eye. Which has happened on a great many occasions. Got light headed. Proceeded to kill all the nests and that son of a bitch right then and there. Next day I looked like a boxer after the second round. I iced it hoping that would bring down the inflammation. It didn’t. When I woke up this morning I felt like I should of asked my trainer to cut the eye and get the cold press so I could see. My eye was almost swollen shut. Some ice, benedryl , and Advil it is only sort of swollen now. As for riding it has affected my peripheral vision, which is bad for the riding but it has given me a mild case of vertigo due to my peripheral vision being sort of not there. Makes me feel almost like I am drunk. 

So tomorrow I am gonna try and get a short coffee shop ride in. Let’s see if I can get through one ride with nothing going wrong. 

Toilet Paper

So people why is it when you get yours hands dirty you wash them. If you face is dirty you wash it, but (pun intended) after you shit you wipe your ass? Doesn't that seem wrong to you? Really, if you sneeze you never say oh just wipe your hands it is clean enough.
People it is time to start the ass washing revolution. We do it with babies, why not with us as adults? Just think about it, your turd cutter is with in inches of your sex toys even if you wipe front to back like we were all taught your sweat can carry that little bit of bacteria down your crack and on to your naughty bits. I think we should all demand that public bathrooms have a wet nap service. We should have disinfection wipes at our convience. Maybe it is just me but I don't want my nuts getting shit on them it creeps me out, or just maybe I have had too much free time on my hands?

Her

This is an excerpt from a story I have been working on. I have come to a block but this is one of my favorite chapters. I must thank my friends who have pushed and prodded for me to keep writing even though I have not. Sioux B, Mary Cha, Miguel, and Jenna all rule. One day I will finish this story. Promise!

      “Hey asshole, you fucking blind or did your your boyfriend’s cum seal your fucking eyes shut?” Sabby vomited at the faceless driver of the car that just buzzed us as we rode into to work. She is very eloquent when she is angry. 

Sabby, or Sabbatha Lynn Green as her parents named her, is a beautiful women when she is isn’t cursing drivers with blurps that make rap stars blush. Oh yeah I guess I should explain her name. Her parents were both heavily into the metal scene and named her after what they considered the first and best metal band, Black Sabbath.  Problem was, they were expecting a boy, whose name was going to be Sabbath Bathery Green. Well when they were surprised by a little girl, they came up with the name on the spot. Her Dad jokes “We added in the “Lynn” cause we knew that with our shitty influence she would probably end up being a stripper, so we might as well help her on the way.” So you see where she gets her attitude from. Sabby is just my nickname for her, everyone else calls her Sab or Sabbatha. I am the only one that gets to use that. She beat the shit out of me the first one hundred times I used it when we were new in our relationship. She use to say “Sabby sounds like someone’s fucking pet. I’m not a fucking creature that you can call and I come, it takes a lil’ more than that Cheeks.” 

We met about three years ago. A few days after hell broke loose in America. She was helping people that had been injured in the riot fires. I myself was injured not due to fires, but some asshole that knocked me off my bike and then proceeded to try and make a bike rack out of my ass cheeks as he screamed “you fucking liberals, it is all your fault.” Hey I am all for beating people up but assuming someone’s political beliefs is just going to far, and besides the handlebars do not go into a bike rack the wheels do, idiot. Anyways Sabbatha and I met as she was attempting to figure out how to bandage lacerations in-between and around my glutes. She did her best not to laugh as I explained to her the extent of my ordeal.  I never really got to see her face as I was laying face down in a cot trying to hide my shame. I did however get to see her legs as she walked by me to get more gauze. I remember thinking that they were the sexist sticks I had every seen, but with my luck the top half would look like Quasi-modo with a touch of the witch from Snow White. She told me her name as the pain killers kicked in and the last words out of my mouth before I passed out were “Sabbatha oh yeah like Black Sabbath, ROCK ON.” Fucking really smooth. 

When I woke up I had no dignity as I realized that I was laying face down spread eagle due to the amount of bandaging amongst my buttocks. The entire burn ward, being short on supplies did not have blankets or curtains up. We were in a gym and the entire room got to see my gauzed out net, basketballs, and bat. I did my best to roll over but a voice from behind was there to tell me that if I moved I could possibly rip stitches. “If you move too quick you might end up having a set of bloody spokes.” At that moment I realized I was in love.  It was Sabby and no one else had every used my spokes euphemism for the anus. I did my best to raise my head to see the face to voice of my soul mate.

“Relax there cheeks, you might strain too hard and prolapse.” I quickly put my head back down. She let out the cutest little giggle. “Just fucking with you man. You can move all you want but walking is going to be pretty hilarious, probably look like a baby trying to walk with a diaper wedgy.”  I did my best to sit up, which just led to more of the twig and berries show for the whole room. I caught Sabby trying not to look and laugh, she was a little red faced. When I finally was able to get into a position that sort of resembled sitting, I finally looked at my angel. She is gorgeous. Not cute! She is fell out of fucking heaven, make men cry, women foam at the mouth with jealousy, no words to describe, straight beauty. She’s about five foot four, maybe shorter. Her hair is a luxurious black with chunks of velvety rose color throughout the shoulder length strands. She has the most intoxicating and rich blue colored eyes to ever gaze upon earth. Her skin is absolutely perfect, a slight shade of pink naturally with no signs of aging to be seen. Pop Noir artists have tried for years and failed to replicate lips as plush and inviting as hers, with the cutest lil’ beauty mark above them just off to the right. Her legs I described earlier, and much to my surprise, the rest of her body matches those stems equally. Her proportions are what all women dream of, a waist that is exactly ten inches smaller than her hips and bust, which I must say is so very ample. I came to find out later that it was all natural.  No way in hell would this deity of lust and beauty ever talk to me. She would surely laugh at any offering of conversation I could muster up. Well I better make it count you know, put my best foot forward and all that happy horse-shit. 

I tried to introduce myself, but the first attempt sounded more like alphabet soup in a blender. I regained my composure and poured on the charm. “Hey you are pretty funny for a broad, by the way my name is "Character X", and only people that are intimate with my ass can call me Cheeks.” Quicker than a crack whore can ask to suck your dick for some cash, Sabby retaliates “Oh, so you have a great many people intimate with your ass, or am I the first?” Oh holy shit she is witty as well, and I just went from loving this woman to worshiping the toilet paper she used to wipe her ass. Does it get any better. I remember thinking to myself at that exact moment, there has got to be something wrong with her. A fascination with feces, hermaphrodite, black widow serial killer, likes to fuck dead corpses. Something has got to be wrong with this girl. 

She laughs which allows me to keep on going “Well since you were elbow deep in there and got to know my turd cutter on a first name basis I guess it’s o.k.. Oh yeah by the way did I happen to say anything offensive while I was in never never land?” Sabby proceeds to tell me her complete loathing of the “rock on” thing or any variation of it. She has had to deal with it her whole life. She tells me that the only thing I’ve got to be embarrassed about, that came out of my mouth was uttering the words “mommy help” when they went to change the bandages. Great she now thinks I’m a goddamn Momma’s boy. We converse for awhile and she explains her name to me and is actually quite surprised that I got the correlation between band and her name. “Most assholes only say the rock on thing after I tell them my story” she squeaks out in a sarcastic little girls voice. We talk about what we did for a living, what we wanted to do, being that the future at that time was so very uncertain. I realize during this conversation that my lust for this woman is justified. The way we talk and banter back and forth is natural. It is like the rhythm of a song, it just flows. The wanting to be with her is no longer that it is now a need. She is my better half. 

        I don’t know if she felt it then too, but not a day has gone by since that moment that I have not seen her or talked to her. Three years seems like such a long time when thinking about work, sports or movies. With Sabby it seems way too short as if someone is putting a film in fast forward that I just want to leave on pause for the rest of my life. 

We roll down the street after her little episode just a few more blocks and we are back to the grindstone. I always let her take lead when we ride on narrow streets. I tell her it is because she is a stronger rider, which by the way is partially true. The real reason is even after three years of being behind her on every ride I still love watching that ass on a bicycle saddle. It is just like a girl on the back of a crotch rocket, which is the exact same shape it takes when you bend someone over the back of a couch or a chair. My personal favorite position. 

        We get to work, an eco-friendly building that looks similar to a glass house on crack. Large and awkward, it is positioned in a way so all it captures the sun with it’s walls of solar panels, thermodynamics water heating pipes. I miss old architecture. Bricks, masonry, squares and rectangles. Since 2009 California.., I’m sorry, Califas has mandated that all buildings newer than 1969 had to be retro-fitted to more sustainable energy sources. Since  we no longer purchase electricity from the United States we have to come up with different ways to fuel our country. God it has been three years and  I still can’t get used to saying “I am a citizen of Califas” when I go across the border into Vegas. 

       Sabby and I work for a rehabilitation company.  Our jobs which are boring yet somehow fulfilling are training people for positions in new fields. We have trained construction workers to become farmers, and farmers to become construction workers. We get to see the change this country has gone through at one-on-one level. When the shit hit the fan and people left Califas for America in fear of becoming a traitor we had to fill the positions. I mean for fucks sake someone has to know how to build a house, we can’t all just live in one house together. Exaggeration I know, but really so many people left in fear and confusion, that we who stayed were left with our dicks in our hands. For example I was a god damn high school janitor and Sabby was a nurse. She fixed up shit heads while I mopped up after them. This shit happens and I go through three different positions. I was a electrician. That failed when they realized I was better at electrocuting myself than getting juice to people. I was delivery guy, but my temper got the best of me on that one.  Let’s just say that there are a few cars that now have paint jobs resembling Jackson Pollock pieces. Now I am a retraining and adjustment coach. Government sponsored program that pays pretty damn well, but the real benefit is we get to reshape this strange country of ours one piece at a time.