Deep Thoughts on Being Half-Assed.

My wife insists this is a good idea. When the wheels come off and the killing starts you know who to blame.

I'm bringing various systems online for the umgajillionth time and wondering just exactly why I bother but I do - go figure. Myfitnesspal informs me that my weight has remained the same since I last bothered to weigh in last November 12th. I could take my blood pressure but I forgot my iPad which is the keeper of the blood pressure diary and I impulse bought this MOVband thingy and now in the harsh morning light of my monitor I'm wondering why.

So, I've got this blog where I poor my angst into it like a teenage girl, myfitnesspal where I monitor my calories, neck size and mass, along with plugging in my workout info (I'm burrito1 by the way - incase you want to log in and see that I haven't done anything for awhile). And although I can see the point of it if you're a believer I find it vaguely narcissistic but that's probably because I'm dealing with lactic acid and I'm grumpy.

My boss is the definition of how this myfitnesspal is suppose to work - this thing called discipline or something - but I'm watching him shed pounds and it's almost inspirational - then I remember how he likes to listen to his employees weeping on his iPod ("It's soothing") and I focus on other things.

It took awhile last night to get the commuter bike online, new batteries for the bike computer and charging up the Garmin so it could track my cadence and HR - all this monitoring for a 3.1 mile ride but it's part of the ritual. When I get home tonight I'll upload the data to another site that will record my incredible trek.

Tomorrow there will be no bike ride - I have to go to a physical therapist for my partially ruptured achilles tendon (my boss tenderly commented, "Why do you have to do everything half-assed?!").

Half-assedness is an increasing problem in our society. Even sissies are phoning it in now. I mean REALLY?! Lingerie firm launches women’s underwear for men. I'm certain not to get beat up (well, cruelly mocked anyway) when I explain to the guys (and ladies) at the gym that "These panties are for MEN! Gosh darn it!!!" while stomping my foot for emphasis. I mean how do you un-see something like that? Don't look at me, go back to the top of this post for 'who to blame.'

I can't leave you with that - here - this will help!

#caring

The Mayor of HotMessDublin

Snot flows freely over my upper lip, the coarse bike glove dragging across it bringing sporadic relief, tears roll down my cheeks from the cold and a mouth full of cherry flavored Cold-EEZEs dribble down my chin like blood. I look like Bella dumped me, a broken hearted Edward on a bike - only HOTTER.

What the heck am I doing hump er riding this bike in at six in the morning? It's 45 degrees and I'm in shorts and a windbreaker. Thank God that whole shaving my legs incase I'm in a wreck phase has passed, or has it? Could my legs be any colder? Would shaven legs further enhance my broken hearted vamperic hotness?

Peddling onward I wonder when the bottom falls out and Lindsay Lohan is reduced to a bike if it will be a tandem so when she wrecks she can pin it on her assistant. There's quite a competition heating up between Bynes and Lohan. As Lauren Sivan noted, 'Lohan to Bynes: "I'm the Mayor of HotMessHollywood, get it?"' after she got arrested for leaving the scene of an accident. This was in response to Bynes getting kicked out of a spin class after she pulled her top off revealing a tiny black underwire bra to everyone in the class. Apparently this violates some sort of female workout code where it would have been fine had she been wearing a sports bra but lacy black underwires are a big no-no. Personally, I'm fine with it. Suffering from oxygen depravation, or drugs or just plain insanity Amanda then decided it would be a good time to reapply her makeup while casually turning the peddles and ten minutes later the instructor (who I bet was female) kicked her out because all the men in the class had stopped to watch.

Lohan vs Bynes - this could be quite a battle!

I wonder what it would take for me to assume my rightful place as the Mayor of HotMessDublin? Will shaved legs be enough? Maybe a tragic drug dependency to Cold-EEZE would help?

Ah, here at work time to become nearly-normal Bill, put to rest these deep, deep thoughts and try out these new earbuds.

Hot Mess Bynes after a Brutal Spin Class Workout

Bikes & iPods - a Question

I rode the bike into work today for the second day in a row. This is a record for me given my recent indifference to exercise. I told myPeg that I'm "tour ready" and got some snarky comment about what steroids I'm taking. "Coffee" - yeah I'm a lightweight. Today I experimented with the iPod a bit listening to Gutfeld's RedEye on the way in and "Bill's Greatest Hits" on the way home. Just one earbud, but...

Here's my question is this one ear bud iPod bike riding a gateway drug? Will I move up to both ears? Will I find myself with some Husting invented tube boombox with giant headphones blasting God knows what directly into my cerebellum, deaf and oblivious to the oncoming ambulance? I enjoyed my ride with a musical accompaniment in one ear. Music that I couldn't change because I didn't want to smack into the back of some parked car like D-TOSRV did so I was stuck listening to music I picked but wasn't in the mood for reminding me of my youth, sitting on the schoolbus listening to "Dream Weaver" whispering, "Turn it off, turn it off, TURN IT OFF!" In this particular case it was "Deathly" which I just wasn't in the mood for but couldn't change like I could during a walk. I was STUCK with Aimee's whining - I started to grin.

Here's the thing - I enjoyed it but I don't want to get pancaked by some motorist because I was inattentive. My fellow bikers or anyone reading this with a chip on your shoulder - do you bike with an iPod? If so what do you do, one ear or two?

Bill's Tire Town

My grandmother, may she rest in peace, was something of a unique individual. She opposed seatbelt laws and was always looking for unusual ways to make money like having a patent on a sun visor that followed the sun. One thing she did that was very sweet was give me an acre of land in New Mexico shortly before she passed away, "I took a shot that the city would go one way but it went the other way."

"Well grandma it might go that way one day, thank you!"

So for 15 or so years I've been paying $6 a year in taxes on property I've never seen, idly hoping someone would strike oil or want to build a sky scraper when the city decided to turn around and go that way. Last week I got a certified letter from Torrance County. Actually getting the letter turned into the kind of bureaucratic nightmare only the federal government using it's catspaw the post office could devise. It took a week of back and forth but I finally got the stupid letter Monday after driving to the post office and showing them ID and signing for it ninety times.

I open the letter and it's from some New Mexico Code Enforcement officer. His opening got us off pretty much on the wrong foot, "Dear Landowner, We are sending you this letter because you have illegally dumped tires and debris on your property."

God DAMN those blackouts! It explains so much, why I'm always tired and my lower back hurts. There's no other explanation for the deviant ways of the Midnight Bill, Tire Dumper.

There were other threats and saber rattling but it boiled down to, "We don't care who did it, it's your property so you can clean it up or start paying fines and facing jail time." I ponder the trade off of jail time versus writing these reviews for my staff before picking up the phone and calling officer DeCosta.

He explains it's gonna cost around 1,800 bucks to clean the mess up. He's not sure since he hasn't actually been out there but since this is on four lots you can divide the cost by four. Also he gives me the coordinates to my little piece of heaven, Lot 7 Estancia Ranchettes so I can look at the "compound" using Google Earth if I want to.

He explains that my lot is in the bottom most, southwest corner of Estancia Ranchettes and that of all the lots only a few have been developed, as in had power and running water but they are far away from mine. I'll let officer DeCosta explain, "Your type of lot is favored by folk who um don't like other people, you know just don't want to be around them (OK that sounds like grandma!). You could say they're the crazies. They might be building some sort of tire wall on your land," and he kinda giggles.

OK now I'm wondering if there's going to be some sort of Branch Davidian siege of Bill's Tire Town when he pops that bubble saying that it's apparently deserted and they left some sort of dilapidated school bus behind. At least that's what he thinks it is from peering into google maps.

I tell him I plan to get this mess cleaned up and sell the property ASAP. He thinks I can get about $900 for it. I thank him, hang up and plug in the coordinates.

I grabbed two pictures of the site, the first one shows where my lovely lot is in relation to civilization. Off to the lower left you can see Albuquerque. Sort of in the center is Santa Fe and the upper right is Philmont where I suffered mightily last summer. In the bottom center is a little yellow push-pin indicating Lot 7 Estancia Ranchettes.

See it? If any of you are psychic would you do me a favor, contact my grandmother and ask her, "What city went the wrong way? WHAT CITY????!!!! THERE ARE NO CITIES, JUST DESERT GRANDMA!"

The nearest city is mine, Bill's Tire Town.

Now if you scroll down a bit you'll see a close up.

Yes it could be mistaken for the surface of Mars but alas it's nothing so exotic. All those black things are tires and one fourth of them are mine. Isn't that great?! I get to pay for their removal because some lazy butt wouldn't man up and take care of it himself. I hope his car suffers forever from flat tires! I hope he's out there now muttering to himself, chewing rubber and trying to figure out how to best defend his Ken Kesey bus from the zombie apocalypse.

But he isn't is he? He's moved on leaving his mess for others to pick up. The dick.

Bill's Tire Town - Population Bill

goFast sent an update in a comment using Google's way-back feature illustrating a Bill's Tire Town back in its heyday. There is a certain siege mentality in the following and the next photo on May 28, 2009 shows the ruins in the above pic. What Mad Max/Breaking Bad battle occurred? Feel free to sift through the ruins and find out, just let me know.

I Built This (Waistline)

I'm in a blind rage. Why? I don't know specifically but the trigger is my company's "Health Fair." I can follow my company's line of reasoning with this stuff perfectly. They (yes the ubiquitous 'they') want to help me get to a healthier lifestyle, a lifestyle I embarked on at the beginning of this blog somehow lost the routine, the discipline and now have lost my way back. They want to drive their health care costs down and I'm all for that - you wanna misbehave, PAY FOR IT!

I have fought A LOT of addictions during my stint on this planet, I know from experience exactly what it will take to waddle my way back to a reasonable weight and at the moment I'm not willing to do it.

Last year I tried and 'tried' is a very subjective word modifying my diet. It did not take, my wife really REALLY wants me back in the gym, back on a healthy routine. I have waited almost two years to get out of this funk, this blog is littered with false starts and half attempts and I am at wits end.

What happens next is I'm going to have to show up at some other meeting and get weighed, blood tested, blood pressure etc. Then a few weeks later I'll get some email stating that I have to do such and such or pay $X. Last year I tried such and such this year will be where do I pay?

I was extremely short with my wife (sorry!) at lunch today - she doesn't deserve that static. I think it's a reflection on my disappointment in myself and my inability to kick start this process.

Fear and Loathing in Chicago Part 2 - The Cost of Art

Brad must be some sort of monster dick. Of the females I've known most would opt for calling Brad for help so they could spend the rest of their lives making sure Brad lives a miserable, wretched life. At the bottom of this post I've given an example of Jupiter in the role of 'Brad' while Venus in the role of 'The Drowning Girl' (had she chosen to survive) giving him the what for. Obviously something is seriously wrong with Drowning Girl and it's commendable that she's opted to remove herself from the gene pool in this manner.

Still, you're a dick Brad!

I'm standing in the Chicago Museum of Art staring at Roy Lichtenstein's Drowning Girl when I come to the realization that I love her. I love her so much that I bought a copy of the Drowning Girl which now hangs in a section of my ever shrinking man cave in the basement. I love her so much that I purchased a Roy Lichtenstein 'man purse' for $40 (it's black, so it's thinning THANK GOD!) to carry this treasure when my wife refused to - the bag proved useful throughout the vacation.

What attracts me (like a moth to flame) to the Drowning Girl is her total devotion to her self destructive behavior. She's the apex of narcissism opting to die rather than ask the dick Brad for help. She's so wonderfully headstrong that you've just got to laugh at her melodramatic stupidity while simultaneously admiring her stick-to-it-ive-ness to her moronic cause. One wonders, "Was it worth it?"

Truly, what's not to love?

I dug Lichtenstein. I liked quite a bit of the stuff in the Chicago Art Museum and took a lot of pictures of art and angry Hindu Gods. What I don't like, what I mock is what's called "modern art." Thankfully I saw none of that. I'm a bit of a Brad when it comes to modern art, don't try and broaden my horizons on that front or I'll annoy you with my giggling.

Jupiter's (Brad's) expression just screams, "SHUT UP!" This is what the Drowning Girl opted out of.

Popping out of the art museum we cross the street to get our kicks on Route 66.

Fear and Loathing in Chicago Part 1

The family and I recently went to Chicago for four days or so - I was going to blog the entire experience but I realized that would take forever and you rat bastards wouldn't read it. So I'll release it as exciting chapters instead!

I'm sitting in Grant Park listening to Dvořák: The Spectre's Bride. Even in English, even with zombies ("there was a dead man passing by!") I find the opera boring and unintelligible. Behind me crackles a walkie-talkie and a flood of six year old Mandarin pours out of it. I make this assumption based on the age of the girl holding the transceiver on this end of the conversation. I'm fluent in Mandarin so I was able to translate this timeless cross cultural conversation.

"Whatcha doin'? OVER!"

"I'm at this stupid opera with my mom and it is SOOOOOO BORING! What are you doing? OVER!"

"I'm watching a My Little Pony cartoon on Netflix and eating popcorn. OVER!"

"The one where the one pony quarrels with it's BFF and then they get in trouble but manage to make up by the end of the show teaching us all a valuable lesson on the power of friendship? That one? OVER!"

"Yes..."

"OH MY GOD!!! I LOVE THAT ONE!!! IT WAS THE BEST ONE EVER!!!!!"

I glance back at this eruption of frantic hyperactive yak.

GASP! "A FAT MIDDLE-AGED FOREIGN BARBARIAN IS STARING AT ME! I MUST HIDE! OVER!"

I hear the walkie-talkie snap off and I'm back to this weird opera ("Seizing her books, he threw them far: they quickly covered ten miles more.") but the siren call of the walkie-talkie quickly over came six year old judgement.

"The fat bald foreign barbarian has returned to his operatic slumber. What's happening with the ponies?OVER!"

"It's another episode. I thought you were in Chicago? OVER!"

"I am in the Peoples Chicago - the foreign devils are so in debt to the motherland that the party has given me permission to rename it Pinkie Pie City OVER!"

"PINKIE PIE IS THE LAMEST OF ALL THE PONIES AND YOU KNOW IT! Twilight Sparkle City is sooooo much better. OVER!"

"DON'T PRESUME TO TELL ME WHAT TO NAME MY CITY! Is this episode the one where the one pony quarrels with it's BFF and then one gets in trouble but her friend manages to help and they make up by the end of the show learning a valuable lesson about friendship? That one? OVER!"

"Yes..."

"OH MY GOD!!! I LOVE THAT ONE!!! IT WAS REALLY THE BEST ONE EVER!!!!! TELL ME SCENE BY SCENE WHAT IS HAPPENING! OVER!"

"Well Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash are walking side by..."

"I thought they hated each other! OVER!"

On and on it went, while zombies chase school girls in weird operas.