Not Going To Do It


I was this close to writing a blog post about how the weather’s got me down and how I feel like a paper white turd. But just as I began to type I realized that every year since the winter of 2006 I have reached a point in the winter that I write some post about how the dark days, slush, ice, cold, and muck of winter have finally beat me down like a $5 hooker with an angry pimp. I guess just in writing those first sentences I have written it again, but I will go no further. Winter has not beat me down, but the lack of riding and physical activity has beat me down and has me looking and feeling like pre weight loss, pre pedo, pre jailed Subway Jared. Or like me circa 1990.

My days of late have been mostly filled with getting shit done to our current house that we’re going to sell, getting paper work and other shit done for the house we’re closing on in April, watching B-Man’s indoor footy tournament, hanging out with Wifey, going to see a good friend’s showing of sculptures at a local gallery, drinking beer, and playing FIFA ’16 on the xBox. Real Tub-O’ Goo type activities.

With all that no riding, no nothing going on, there has also been little to take photos of. Most of my photos from B’s tourney came out like crap, and the pics from my buddy’s gallery showing came out even crapper. The only pic I’ve liked in recent days is the one seen above of a small jazz band playing at a local coffee joint in town.

When I wasn’t doing all of that nothing, I was fretting about the job I interviewed for last week. I can’t say I was completely qualified for it, but the interview went well and when I got a message from them today while I was at our house inspection, I assumed they were calling for a 2nd interview or to tell me I got it. I then went into hyper-fucking-fret mode; “I’m too fucking stupid to do that job! Why would they want to hire me?? I can’t do it! Fuck it, I’m telling them thanks, but no thanks! They got the wrong person for the job!” Then, after several thousand deep breaths into a paper bag–sadly void of airplane glue–I finally got myself calmed down. I realized the job wasn’t for being a brain surgeon, that it’s a part-time office job, I would do just fine, and the extra money would be nice with us buying a new crib. I picked up the phone, and phoned the woman who interviewed me. She thanked me for calling her back, and for my time last week, but then went on to say that I didn’t get the job. GOOD GRIEF!!! Couldn’t she have just sent a letter and saved me all that hand wringing ??

Only I could apply for a job I think I can do, then work myself into a frenzy about the possibility of getting the job and making an ass of myself, convince myself that I could do the job, only to not get the job. Fuck, at this point I really don’t know if I’m happy or sad? Oh well, at least I just freed up 28 hours a week for more riding. Or masturbating. Hopefully riding, ’cause that it one hell of a lot of masturbating. Either way, at least I know I’m more than qualified for both of those jobs.

I don’t want to jinx it, but it looks as if the stars, planets, and galaxies have all aligned, that the bike gods have deemed it so, and I might be able to squeeze in some rides on the fatty over the next two days. Hopefully I’ll have some ride pics or SOMETHING cycling related to talk about.


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