There has been no ride since my last ride. That’s a bummer, but I’ve tried to keep moving with six nine miles of Dreadmill lumbering over the past two three days. Me walking/jogging on a treadmill is not exactly blog-worthy1, but as I so often say here on these ill-written digital pages of digital suck, “yet here we are.”
It’s become clear to me, via my bathroom scale, that my self-imposed extended layoff from riding has not helped (in ANY way whatsoever) my attempt at getting back to being a “husky” man who is a whisker under being morbidly obese. No offense to my fellow “husky” and “morbidly obese” friends and neighbors. “For there are many,” sayeth Luke. Luke, the dude that hangs out at the skatepark, not Luke of the Bible book.
Note: This post may or may not sound like I’m a six-pack of beer and a 5 gallon-sized bag of weed into the weekend, but I assure you it’s only fueled by coffee, too much time on my hands, and cold rain pelting against my office window.
It’s been a while since I felt the need to post here. To be honest, I still don’t feel the need to post here, yet here we are.
Well, we’re back from Indiana, and I’m hitting the ground running like a freshly excreted dog turd onto a frosty spring lawn.
The four-day trip into America’s heartland of COVID negligence for a soccer tournament was better than I thought (in that it happened at all) and just as bad as I thought (aforementioned negligence, combined with COVID fuckedupedness and guilt).
I’ll explain a bit.
My newfound custom of getting up early continued on Sunday, and with that, I got a shit ton of stuff done, including baking some crispy, crunchy toasted homemade muffin bread and installing an Ortleib bag bracket on the Fattishson (The Roscoe’s current name before it becomes a 29er in the future).
Then I decided to ride.
MINDBENDER II (THE WRATH OF KHAN)2
“Here, take this. It’s a mixture of horse placenta, baby spit, and the toenail of a sodomized goat, manufactured in the basement of a New Jersey pharmaceutical company/suburban home.”
ME
“Will it slow my metabolism down even further and cause me to gain even more weight like all the other shit has?”
MINDBENDER II (THE WRATH OF KHAN)
“No, no, it was weight neutral in trials; it will just help with your want to leave the house. And who knows, it might even get you back on your bike or in the woods with your camera. Trade: Phenodihydrochloride benzelex. Street: The embalmer”
ME
“Balls. I’ll swallow it and run a mile.”
Me grabs handful of colorful pills and shoves them down his throat.
MINDBENDER II (THE WRATH OF KHAN)
“Not those pills, THESE pills, those are my M&Ms, you stupid nipple. By the way, you still owe your $30 copay from our last session.”
Me proceeds to write a check with milk chocolate—now freed from its hard, colorful candy shell— smeared across his chubby face.
ME
“What’s today’s date again?”3
— SCENE —
“Blinded by the light,
Woke up like a douche4 in the middle of the night.”
— Blinded by The Light, by Manfred Mann’s Earth Band
After days, nay weeks, of being a morbidly obese, mentally drained housebound hermit, I ventured out into the world on Friday morning for a snowshoe at the Forest Hill Nature Area. Hooray for being a functioning adult.
There’s really nothing like waking up to a fresh February snowstorm. Coffee tastes a bit better, breakfast is just a little more relaxing, and the urge to angrily shit on the floor like a caged ape and throw it at the first person that walks in front of the house is just a tad more indomitable.
If you think that throwing feecus is adjectivally extreme, just be glad I didn’t venture into the messy masturbatory world of caged primates and/or their evolutionary cousin, the overweight housebound adult male human in winter hibernation mode, AKA Auto-erotic-hibernation.5
That was probably more weather-inspired poo and goo talk than you or anyone other than me wanted. I digress.
Greetings, fellow Soilers, today I bring you Reader Mail!
Why? Because I got nothing else to talk about. Yeah, I could talk more about bikes and parts like I did in the last post, but in reality, the (higher-end) retail bike biz might not even be a thing in a few months, given 2020’s perfect shit storm of COVID, factories moving due to Trump tariffs, and unforeseen consumer demand. Not to sound like a fucking QAnon Qonspiracy Qook, but if you want a bike and it’s in stock, BUY IT NOW!! Same with parts.
