Hey people. It's Valentine's weekend in case you have been under a rock or anything. Single or about-to-be, bitter, unhappy, gal-pal-peeps, I feel you guys, but this one's for the true believers, so you might as well tune out now. See ya next week.
For anyone sticking around-- I have some really cool songs for you today. I have to admit I think I posted this one last year, but I just can't help myself. I love me some Dave Grohl. This vid is so powerful I think, because of the denial of gratification-- the desire is so strong but they're both being held back by the glass. The frustration even gets violent. I'd be going NUTS. RAWR. ~shatters glass with awesome smashing side kick~ ~then totally makes out with Dave~
(If you push the button with the 4 arrows pointing out it will expand and you can get rid of the ad. Push esc to get it back to the blog.)
This next one is from one of my very favorite groups-- The Black Keys. This is a fan vid with some cool graphics. The song is "So he won't break," and I love it. I'd actually love to make a video of slo-mo mountain bike crashes to it someday, but in terms of a gettin'-it-on song, I think there will always be something incredibly seductive to women about the idea of being THE ONE who hits the nerve in a guy. Plus, the song just has that rolling, dirty rhythm that is perfect for making-out to.
Got into an interesting convo with Dan the other night. I can be a lot of work sometimes. I like a bit of attention (in case you hadn't guessed), kind of demand it actually. Sometimes I ask him for reassurance too. Sometimes I feel invincible, sometimes like a total train wreck. I can be hyper one day, and really bummed the next. I'm always concerned about how he's perceiving me. I feel a certain pressure to be "worth the trouble." I want him to feel "lucky" to have me, but that means I have to be pretty awesome right?
This plays out with me trying to make sure he likes coming home to me, trying to be fun, trying to look as good as I can, trying to make him feel good about himself, to anticipate his wants, trying to remain hot on some level-- lots of things. I want to add to his life.
I asked him if he ever thinks this way-- worrying how I see him.
Um... He's a guy-- so-- shocker! No.
He pretty much goes about his business and doesn't really think about how I am feeling about him. If I'm not pissed, he assumes everything is great. (If he detects any level of mysterious "pissedness" a whole other type of guy calculus begins to take place involving avoidance/deflection ratios etc, but that is a whole other post.)
It's so weird how different we are (men and women). I envy the way they take things at face value, and their confidence. (The very things I find so attractive in them -- hmmm.) (There's lots more, but their self-esteem already seems pretty up there, so I'll leave it at that.)
I've often wondered if it comes from how in Jr. High/High School, if you're a guy-- your face is your face and your hair is your hair. "Good luck to 'ya." But if you're a girl you're taught how to "fix" everything that's wrong with you with make-up and hair products and devices. And you are made well aware there is A TON wrong with you, and it goes way beyond just looks.
Wow- this got a little off track didn't it? I guess it's just funny how each sex seems to think the other is holding all the cards. Guys have the power of selection, girls of rejection. (This is what we each think anyway.) What a double-edged sword.
As usual I love hearing what you all think. Comment it up.
Play some good music while you make-out this weekend if at all possible. Have fun! (If it's not fun pick up a manual or something because you're def doing it wrong.)
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Just... Weird.
Hey people. Only thing weird around here this week is me. Just not feeling it much. This episode of Weird Wed is a bit of a phoner- but it entertained me for a few minutes so maybe you'll get a kick out of it. It is actually pretty amazing.
In other SueNews:
Writing has ground to a screeching halt for no real good reason. I need to get back on it. It's just a discipline thing-- which usually isn't my issue but symptomatic of my present "off-ness."
Lot's of welding has been going on which is a good thing because I have a show in about 6 weeks. 7 I guess. About. The weldy mojo never really abandons me totally. Auto pilot mode.
Very mood-swingy this week. Short bursts of fun, broken up by bouts of inertia and feeling disconnected. Seems to be going around from what I hear. Am telling myself things will improve next week when I'm going to start running again, and writing every day.
See what I did there? Now if I don't follow through I'll begin the cycle of broken promises and berating myself. I've been there enough times to know it's way better to just do whatever it is I've committed to doing. Time to get back on track.
Where are you guys now? Everyone's bootstraps pulled up or what?
In other SueNews:
Writing has ground to a screeching halt for no real good reason. I need to get back on it. It's just a discipline thing-- which usually isn't my issue but symptomatic of my present "off-ness."
Lot's of welding has been going on which is a good thing because I have a show in about 6 weeks. 7 I guess. About. The weldy mojo never really abandons me totally. Auto pilot mode.
Very mood-swingy this week. Short bursts of fun, broken up by bouts of inertia and feeling disconnected. Seems to be going around from what I hear. Am telling myself things will improve next week when I'm going to start running again, and writing every day.
See what I did there? Now if I don't follow through I'll begin the cycle of broken promises and berating myself. I've been there enough times to know it's way better to just do whatever it is I've committed to doing. Time to get back on track.
Where are you guys now? Everyone's bootstraps pulled up or what?
Monday, February 8, 2010
Perfect Storm
Hey people. Over the weekend I was remembering more funny stuff from our trip to hell and back. Like when Dan insisted on eating the canadian bacon from my Egg McMuffin-- you know-- for the orphans in Haiti, and how he kept saying, "That's what I do" enigmatically.
There was also a moment where I said or did something, (neither of us can remember what), and his response was, "I think I have enough thrills in my life thanks." This baited me into imitating Jack Nicholson on and off for at least half a day, yelling, "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE THRILLS" into his face whenever the mood struck me.
I know. Poor Dan. I can sometimes get him to play with me-- like this day we went sliding together, but it is super hard for me to find people who like doing all the dumb stuff I like to do.
Sat I had a really fun day. There are times when I get this tight feeling in my chest and it feels like I really need to vent off some steam or I'm going to SPLODE. Lately I've been feeling like that a lot.
I began the day going for a 10k ski with Trusty Pam and Dan in the snowy woods. It was really pretty, and fun. Pam and I have been skiing our butts off this winter. The snow's been awesome. Now the hills that used to scare us are kind of boring though. We still like it, but now it's like we can never go fast enough. We even resorted to climbing through the barrier of a hill that was closed for being "too screamin' fast", and even it was barely fun enough.
After our ski I went over to the trail and started plotting a new course through the woods for myself. Now that I know my leg isn't re-breaking over and over I'm going to start running again. I'd like to go over there whenever, regardless of the weather, and not worry if I'm messing up the bike trail. So I tromped though knee-deep snow for over an hour checking out a route.
After that, some people showed up to work on the trail, mostly shoveling snow, and I helped with that the rest of the day. There was also some really fun goofing around that I can't go into detail about, (because the friggin' man may try to keep us down) but let's just say when I got home I was practically leaping around the house like a Labrador Retriever because I was so hyper from all the wee-age.
You'd think that would "cure" me for a few days right? No-- it just makes me want that feeling back again as soon as possible like those rats who keep pushing the little treat button until they SPLODE.
In summer, when I found mountain biking, it was kind of like getting a permanent cure for a while. Dan has been a little weirded-out by my sudden, intense interest in this and we've had a few talks about it. One night I was trying to explain it again, or I guess just trying to make sure he wasn't getting annoyed by me, or my thrill-seeky ways weren't coming between us or whatever, and I said, "You see how this is like the perfect storm for me right?"
He did some little affectionate thing to show me it was okay and said, "Yeah. I get it."
It (riding) has the perfect combo of ingredients for me-- It's really difficult. --I can throw myself at it as hard as I want and still not succeed enough at it that it's ever gets boring. But it's a learned skill-- so I can have just enough improvement to keep motivating me to try. It's got an element of danger that's very narcotic and distracting. (--This is something I've (sometimes unwittingly) chased, or tried to smother, my whole life.) There is an optional social aspect to it that has no pressure, isn't intrusive, and chock full-o-nutballs (my favorite kind of people), and the whole works goes down in the middle of the woods. It's kind of "out there". Perfect.
The only problem is I'm not very good at it (yet) and have had to try to otherwise occupy myself during the winter. Sat was awesome because it was like uncapping the hydrant. Now it's Mon and I have a bunch of work to do, but it seriously feels like some monster is trying to pry open my ribcage.
I think I'm going to have to go over to the trail at lunch and go for a little run, and bring my saucer sled to whiz down a hill or two.
Do any of you guys relate to this at all? Sometimes I feel like such an alien.
UPDATE:
Pam skipped out early today and we went sliding down a bunch of big hills at the trail, so this rat has satisfactorily pushed her button for one day anyhow. Much better. Ahh. Now, back to welding. :)
There was also a moment where I said or did something, (neither of us can remember what), and his response was, "I think I have enough thrills in my life thanks." This baited me into imitating Jack Nicholson on and off for at least half a day, yelling, "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE THRILLS" into his face whenever the mood struck me.
I know. Poor Dan. I can sometimes get him to play with me-- like this day we went sliding together, but it is super hard for me to find people who like doing all the dumb stuff I like to do.
Sat I had a really fun day. There are times when I get this tight feeling in my chest and it feels like I really need to vent off some steam or I'm going to SPLODE. Lately I've been feeling like that a lot.I began the day going for a 10k ski with Trusty Pam and Dan in the snowy woods. It was really pretty, and fun. Pam and I have been skiing our butts off this winter. The snow's been awesome. Now the hills that used to scare us are kind of boring though. We still like it, but now it's like we can never go fast enough. We even resorted to climbing through the barrier of a hill that was closed for being "too screamin' fast", and even it was barely fun enough.
After our ski I went over to the trail and started plotting a new course through the woods for myself. Now that I know my leg isn't re-breaking over and over I'm going to start running again. I'd like to go over there whenever, regardless of the weather, and not worry if I'm messing up the bike trail. So I tromped though knee-deep snow for over an hour checking out a route.
After that, some people showed up to work on the trail, mostly shoveling snow, and I helped with that the rest of the day. There was also some really fun goofing around that I can't go into detail about, (because the friggin' man may try to keep us down) but let's just say when I got home I was practically leaping around the house like a Labrador Retriever because I was so hyper from all the wee-age.
You'd think that would "cure" me for a few days right? No-- it just makes me want that feeling back again as soon as possible like those rats who keep pushing the little treat button until they SPLODE.
In summer, when I found mountain biking, it was kind of like getting a permanent cure for a while. Dan has been a little weirded-out by my sudden, intense interest in this and we've had a few talks about it. One night I was trying to explain it again, or I guess just trying to make sure he wasn't getting annoyed by me, or my thrill-seeky ways weren't coming between us or whatever, and I said, "You see how this is like the perfect storm for me right?"
He did some little affectionate thing to show me it was okay and said, "Yeah. I get it."
It (riding) has the perfect combo of ingredients for me-- It's really difficult. --I can throw myself at it as hard as I want and still not succeed enough at it that it's ever gets boring. But it's a learned skill-- so I can have just enough improvement to keep motivating me to try. It's got an element of danger that's very narcotic and distracting. (--This is something I've (sometimes unwittingly) chased, or tried to smother, my whole life.) There is an optional social aspect to it that has no pressure, isn't intrusive, and chock full-o-nutballs (my favorite kind of people), and the whole works goes down in the middle of the woods. It's kind of "out there". Perfect.
The only problem is I'm not very good at it (yet) and have had to try to otherwise occupy myself during the winter. Sat was awesome because it was like uncapping the hydrant. Now it's Mon and I have a bunch of work to do, but it seriously feels like some monster is trying to pry open my ribcage.
I think I'm going to have to go over to the trail at lunch and go for a little run, and bring my saucer sled to whiz down a hill or two.
Do any of you guys relate to this at all? Sometimes I feel like such an alien.
UPDATE:
Pam skipped out early today and we went sliding down a bunch of big hills at the trail, so this rat has satisfactorily pushed her button for one day anyhow. Much better. Ahh. Now, back to welding. :)
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Bowmp-chicka-mow-mow...
Hey people. Welcome to the "Gettin' It Effin ON Feb" edition of Fav Music Friday. My first bit of advice to any guys out there looking to, you know, get some-- is, if at all possible-- be Dave Grohl.
Okay. Sorry. Just kidding. Any excuse will do, really, to work him in. In all seriousness, V-day is coming up, and I do have a few thoughts. Lot's of women buy into the whole grand gestures deal, thinking if a guy comes up with flowers, or jewelry, etc it means he super lurves you. The Valentines Day industry is built on this myth. Maybe it means that, maybe not.
I know a few guys who are good at gifts etc, coming up with ideas all on their own, because they are thoughtful, and into their women, and they get it. (These men are all taken of course.) I've also known plenty who are good at that kind of stuff, because they get it too-- in a manipulative bastard-y way, or, just as pukey-- a showboat-y "look what an awesome guy I am" way.
So don't let the whole gifty, window dressing thing be the deciding factor. It's a plus, but it's not necessarily an indicator of "love." Sometimes, the guy who sucks at gifts & special occasions, but scrapes off your windshield on a random Thurs, and is super reliable, is the keeper.
Men and women are wired differently (if you haven't figured it out yet.) Let me crack the code for you. (There will always be gals who like interestingly damaged men, and guys who are into infantilized women who can't think their way out of a paper bag, but assuming everyone here falls somewhere on the pretty normal spectrum...)
Women want to feel so desirable, that they are worth almost any amount of trouble. This is why they really get into things where the guy shows he's gone to some kind of effort-- like planning ahead. They also like to feel they drive the guy so out of his gord, it ignites his baser male instincts. Which is why they like when he actually decides stuff all on his own, like what restaurant to go to. (rawr)
Men like to feel virile and indispensable. They like when they do things-- like fix stuff or make themselves useful-- and we notice. It might be somewhat expected that they do certain things, but it doesn't hurt anything to show a little gratitude. They do, after all, come in handy.
(I had a joke here about them liking it when we make a big deal about their muscles etc, but some random guy hanging out in my living room, whose name isn't Dan or anything, totally rolled his eyes.) I had a hard time pinning him down on exactly what guys like about how we behave towards them-- something besides how we look. Guys are so visual it's scary.
Finally we settled on -- when we show them any signs of being "into it", or "into them", they like it. (RAWR)
People-- like to feel like they are smart, and funny, and cool-- that they're loved, and liked too. They want to feel connected, and safe-- like there's a level of trust & intimacy in their significant relationship that sets it apart from all their other social interactions. Everyone likes to feel like they matter, that they are heard, and cared about. (purr)
Just food for thought. :) I'd love to hear what you guys/gals think about this. Weigh in.
This song has basically nothing to do with romantic love. It's purely about getting it on. Enjoy. Here's hoping everyone gets lucky this weekend. :)
Okay. Sorry. Just kidding. Any excuse will do, really, to work him in. In all seriousness, V-day is coming up, and I do have a few thoughts. Lot's of women buy into the whole grand gestures deal, thinking if a guy comes up with flowers, or jewelry, etc it means he super lurves you. The Valentines Day industry is built on this myth. Maybe it means that, maybe not.I know a few guys who are good at gifts etc, coming up with ideas all on their own, because they are thoughtful, and into their women, and they get it. (These men are all taken of course.) I've also known plenty who are good at that kind of stuff, because they get it too-- in a manipulative bastard-y way, or, just as pukey-- a showboat-y "look what an awesome guy I am" way.
So don't let the whole gifty, window dressing thing be the deciding factor. It's a plus, but it's not necessarily an indicator of "love." Sometimes, the guy who sucks at gifts & special occasions, but scrapes off your windshield on a random Thurs, and is super reliable, is the keeper.
Men and women are wired differently (if you haven't figured it out yet.) Let me crack the code for you. (There will always be gals who like interestingly damaged men, and guys who are into infantilized women who can't think their way out of a paper bag, but assuming everyone here falls somewhere on the pretty normal spectrum...)
Women want to feel so desirable, that they are worth almost any amount of trouble. This is why they really get into things where the guy shows he's gone to some kind of effort-- like planning ahead. They also like to feel they drive the guy so out of his gord, it ignites his baser male instincts. Which is why they like when he actually decides stuff all on his own, like what restaurant to go to. (rawr)
Men like to feel virile and indispensable. They like when they do things-- like fix stuff or make themselves useful-- and we notice. It might be somewhat expected that they do certain things, but it doesn't hurt anything to show a little gratitude. They do, after all, come in handy.
(I had a joke here about them liking it when we make a big deal about their muscles etc, but some random guy hanging out in my living room, whose name isn't Dan or anything, totally rolled his eyes.) I had a hard time pinning him down on exactly what guys like about how we behave towards them-- something besides how we look. Guys are so visual it's scary.
Finally we settled on -- when we show them any signs of being "into it", or "into them", they like it. (RAWR)
People-- like to feel like they are smart, and funny, and cool-- that they're loved, and liked too. They want to feel connected, and safe-- like there's a level of trust & intimacy in their significant relationship that sets it apart from all their other social interactions. Everyone likes to feel like they matter, that they are heard, and cared about. (purr)
Just food for thought. :) I'd love to hear what you guys/gals think about this. Weigh in.
This song has basically nothing to do with romantic love. It's purely about getting it on. Enjoy. Here's hoping everyone gets lucky this weekend. :)
Bonus Post- (how did we all get so lucky?!!!)
(If you're here for the race vid scroll down to next post.)
Not that my life is oh-so-fascinating, but I just got back from the bone doctor and am super hyper.
So, some of you guys know about my tibia-- what an asshole it is. It's been cracked for literally 3 years now (from running). Here's- an x-ray. (Not actual x-ray, artist rendering. DUH.)
I was told to have a rod put in it, but didn't want to. It's a bone-- shouldn't it just knit back together by itself? So I had this other treatment where some masochist (physical therapist) ground plexiglass objects into my flesh and turned my entire leg, hip down, various shades of purple, green, and yellow, (super sexy), and sent on my way. (That was supposed to somehow piss-off my leg and make it rise-up and heal itself.) (Yeah.)
Since then it periodically hurts, especially when I get back into running. Even when I've been in a running mode, any time I try to increase my speed or distance, it flares up and kills. Last week I went for a super wussy run and after it killed just to walk around Target, so I went back in.
First the bone doc told me he's never met anyone with this kind of fracture that had one for this long, or that didn't go for the rod. Then he looked at my old x-ray, (above), and said I'd probably have to be in a cast & on crutches for 6 to 8 weeks, and might still need the rod, even after that.
I literally almost started crying. Not be able to ski, run, or ride the bitchy off for 2 months??!! No. Way. Seriously-- I'd lose my flippin' mind (what's left.) Shit would def have to be destroyed.
Then he comes back in after making me get another x-ray (below), and voila! (This too, is not an actual x-ray, but merely an artist rendering. Seriously people, catch-up.)
He said I'm apparently some kind of exception-- he actually called me the longest case study of a black-line fracture in medical history. My bone had pretty much mended itself, forming a ton of new bone around the crack, and making its own cast, kind of. He said it still hurts because the crack is still there a tiny bit, and every time I start up running again, or try to get more intense, my bone has to actually "get used to it". (?) (I know, sounds made-up to me too, but whateves.) So, I just have to "be careful" and eventually, it will heal all the way.
No cast! No crutches! No rod! No burgeoning homicidal tendencies! No psych ward!
Also, for those of you who keep asking about the famous Suby from our trip to hell and back-- here it is in all it's all-wheel-drive glory. So far, so good.
Not bad for a 10 year old car huh? (You can get away with this stuff when your hubs is mechanical.)
Not that my life is oh-so-fascinating, but I just got back from the bone doctor and am super hyper.
So, some of you guys know about my tibia-- what an asshole it is. It's been cracked for literally 3 years now (from running). Here's- an x-ray. (Not actual x-ray, artist rendering. DUH.)
I was told to have a rod put in it, but didn't want to. It's a bone-- shouldn't it just knit back together by itself? So I had this other treatment where some masochist (physical therapist) ground plexiglass objects into my flesh and turned my entire leg, hip down, various shades of purple, green, and yellow, (super sexy), and sent on my way. (That was supposed to somehow piss-off my leg and make it rise-up and heal itself.) (Yeah.)Since then it periodically hurts, especially when I get back into running. Even when I've been in a running mode, any time I try to increase my speed or distance, it flares up and kills. Last week I went for a super wussy run and after it killed just to walk around Target, so I went back in.
First the bone doc told me he's never met anyone with this kind of fracture that had one for this long, or that didn't go for the rod. Then he looked at my old x-ray, (above), and said I'd probably have to be in a cast & on crutches for 6 to 8 weeks, and might still need the rod, even after that.
I literally almost started crying. Not be able to ski, run, or ride the bitchy off for 2 months??!! No. Way. Seriously-- I'd lose my flippin' mind (what's left.) Shit would def have to be destroyed.
Then he comes back in after making me get another x-ray (below), and voila! (This too, is not an actual x-ray, but merely an artist rendering. Seriously people, catch-up.)
He said I'm apparently some kind of exception-- he actually called me the longest case study of a black-line fracture in medical history. My bone had pretty much mended itself, forming a ton of new bone around the crack, and making its own cast, kind of. He said it still hurts because the crack is still there a tiny bit, and every time I start up running again, or try to get more intense, my bone has to actually "get used to it". (?) (I know, sounds made-up to me too, but whateves.) So, I just have to "be careful" and eventually, it will heal all the way.No cast! No crutches! No rod! No burgeoning homicidal tendencies! No psych ward!
Also, for those of you who keep asking about the famous Suby from our trip to hell and back-- here it is in all it's all-wheel-drive glory. So far, so good.
Not bad for a 10 year old car huh? (You can get away with this stuff when your hubs is mechanical.)
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Race vid + man babies + me making an ass of myself, kind of.
Hey freaks. Fear not, Weird Wed has not been totally preempted. Hang in there. After this initial bit of business you'll get your disturbia on.
First, another mountain bike race vid from Hillside. This has gotten pretty fun for me. I'm still learning the basics, and haven't even figured the camera all the way out (which already tanked btw and has to be sent off to be fixed. Bad sign.) But, since I'm not riding right now, it's fun to watch other people hit it, plus, I love music, love tromping around in the woods, and editing footage is pretty fun too.
The more I figure out what works and what doesn't, the more creative I'll be able to be with this. It's fun to have another medium to fool around with. I've already got ideas for future projects-- an all girl vid w/b awesome, and one of purely "antics" could be really fun.
One thing I think I need is a cowbell. Some people weird-out if I don't say anything (and I'm usually just trying to not interfere w/ their ride), and others freak if I cheer them, and then they mess up. If I had a bell I could clang it before people get right to me to warn them.
I also need to be less shy about asking people I don't know to pose with their bikes etc. Basically, if you are a rider and reading this, assume I want to shoot you, so find me and say hi. :) And girl riders-- feel free to ham it up if you see me shooting in the woods in any way you feel comfortable.
Anyway, here's footage from the rescheduled Cold Bear Challenge (Skinny) Race. The music is Foo Fighters "All My Life". Kind of repetitive, but I was trying to get everybody in it, and like I said, learning curve... (if you click "watch on youtube" you can full screen it. big file version)
Okay. Way to be patient Weirdos. This is a reader submission from Slagporter Kris. There is a whole website with tons more pics if you're into this. "Manbabies" = mui creepio if you ask me.
In other SueNews:
Mah braynes iz mostly un-fried now. Enough to weld at least. Waiting a few days for the novel. That takes more cortex.
Last night me and Pam shot the "Gravity Box" at Woodland Trails. WOOOT us! This is another of those things we said we'd probably never do. The first time we saw it we were like, "How come there isn't a big pile of dead bodies down there?"
But, now that we're ruined by mountain biking, there are no more never's, and the fun just gets scarier and scarier. ~shivers~
Anyway, we did it, it wasn't even that scary. It was pretty fun. After, we were in another section approaching another caution hill and trash talking just for fun. (This is sort of a hobby of ours.) I go, "Oh good-- caution just means FUN to us, because we are that bad-ass now." And right then this guy on skate skis blew by us with a giant smirk on his face. ~Bows~ Yep. I should have known better than to feel all BIG, but, oh well.
It was pretty funny.
First, another mountain bike race vid from Hillside. This has gotten pretty fun for me. I'm still learning the basics, and haven't even figured the camera all the way out (which already tanked btw and has to be sent off to be fixed. Bad sign.) But, since I'm not riding right now, it's fun to watch other people hit it, plus, I love music, love tromping around in the woods, and editing footage is pretty fun too.
The more I figure out what works and what doesn't, the more creative I'll be able to be with this. It's fun to have another medium to fool around with. I've already got ideas for future projects-- an all girl vid w/b awesome, and one of purely "antics" could be really fun.
One thing I think I need is a cowbell. Some people weird-out if I don't say anything (and I'm usually just trying to not interfere w/ their ride), and others freak if I cheer them, and then they mess up. If I had a bell I could clang it before people get right to me to warn them.
I also need to be less shy about asking people I don't know to pose with their bikes etc. Basically, if you are a rider and reading this, assume I want to shoot you, so find me and say hi. :) And girl riders-- feel free to ham it up if you see me shooting in the woods in any way you feel comfortable.
Anyway, here's footage from the rescheduled Cold Bear Challenge (Skinny) Race. The music is Foo Fighters "All My Life". Kind of repetitive, but I was trying to get everybody in it, and like I said, learning curve... (if you click "watch on youtube" you can full screen it. big file version)
Okay. Way to be patient Weirdos. This is a reader submission from Slagporter Kris. There is a whole website with tons more pics if you're into this. "Manbabies" = mui creepio if you ask me.
In other SueNews:Mah braynes iz mostly un-fried now. Enough to weld at least. Waiting a few days for the novel. That takes more cortex.
Last night me and Pam shot the "Gravity Box" at Woodland Trails. WOOOT us! This is another of those things we said we'd probably never do. The first time we saw it we were like, "How come there isn't a big pile of dead bodies down there?"
But, now that we're ruined by mountain biking, there are no more never's, and the fun just gets scarier and scarier. ~shivers~
Anyway, we did it, it wasn't even that scary. It was pretty fun. After, we were in another section approaching another caution hill and trash talking just for fun. (This is sort of a hobby of ours.) I go, "Oh good-- caution just means FUN to us, because we are that bad-ass now." And right then this guy on skate skis blew by us with a giant smirk on his face. ~Bows~ Yep. I should have known better than to feel all BIG, but, oh well.
It was pretty funny.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Fried, green, brain-matos.
Hey people. Last Thurs at 8 a.m. Me and Dan left MN to pick up a ten-year-old used Suby, in Florida. Yes-- 1400 miles away.
I borrowed TPam's GPS & road atlas, packed a carry-on with road food and a couple changes of clothes, pulled on my new awesome "Natasha" boots (get out the friggin' bullwhip), and hit the airport.
At our very first connection they gate-checked our carry-ons because the overheads were too small-- and somehow lost them between the door of the plane and the baggage loader thingy 10 feet away. They not only lost them, they didn't scan them into the system so it was like they didn't exist.
If you haven't just gasped and scooted closer to your screen, you don't understand people. This bag had my kitty hat in it! And my choppers! And my cool new end-of-the-season-sale Van's! And the new scandalous undies I bought at Target. The elderly man who rang me up went to a lot of trouble for these-- turning all red while fumbling with the little plastic hanger thing and getting all exasperated. Not only that-- look at this haul-- headlamp, ninja wear, other awesome hat, south beach diet bars...
By the time the Delta employees determined, "Yep. You guys are pretty screwed alright." we were almost missing our next connection. We were supposed to take this little train to the next terminal-- but it for some reason went down as soon as we got on. After figuring out it wasn't going anywhere any time soon, we got off and ran. We ran through this whole underground passageway thing, past 3 of those moving sidewalk deals. I had a hold of our one remaining bag- the messenger bag containing our laptop & electronics, so was kind of dying after a while. It was like running with a big bag of kitty litter.
Dan was ahead of me and I was getting really pissed he wasn't waiting. Then he goes, "Well, here. Let me take the bag. I'll be able to run with it better." (Really? It's easier to run not carrying a giant heavy bag? Seriously??!) Those who know me well, know that was enough to make me refuse to let go of the bag ever. He'd have to pry it from my Charlton Heston hands.
We made the flight. We made the next connection, and arrived in Tallahassee a mere 8 1/2 hours later. They still had no clue about our bags. So I'm now in Fla, wearing snow boots and a wool turtleneck.
Eventually we got them back (six hours later), after this whole stupid episode of them being locked in an empty office in the ghost-town airport. There were NO employees, no people, anywhere-- and they knew we were coming because they'd called to tell us where to pick up.
I resorted to putting on a show for the security camera- pretending to kick down the door, flipping double-barreled birds at the dark office, and shadow boxing at the camera, trying to get someone to come out of somewhere. I suppose I'm lucky TSA people didn't tackle me. Finally they let us have them.
Let's just say, things continued to go down hill. If I was Godzilla, the city of Tallahassee would be a smoldering ruin by now. There would be crumpled cars and burning piles of shit all over the place.
By 1 a.m. we'd taken a $60 cab ride, lost our other bag (the one with our computer etc in it.)-- (Not to name names, but hubs left it in our cab), dealt with the used car people (whose computer kept crashing so we were trapped there for a while while I frantically tried to locate our cab driver), been directed all over town looking for a hotel by the GPS which was apparently freaking out, making us do U-turns all over and bringing us back to the same skanky Super 8 over and over like freaking groundhog day.
The last time we wound up there I just started laughing. It was that or cry. So we sat in the lot and laughed like a couple idiots, then went, "You know what?-- Screw it. Let's just drive." It was like the city had become a venus flytrap and we were the hamburger. So we fired up the so-far not-very-trusty GPS and headed north.
I was so trashed by now from all the stress and lack of sleep, it took me a while to realize the GPS had somehow decided we should avoid interstates at all costs, and was routing us through every back road in northern Florida/southern Alabama. When I finally figured out another way from the maps, we were stuck waiting for this bizarre middle-of-the-night parade of at least 50 'Bama state troopers, and various other vehicles with government seals on the doors to pass before we could get on the highway. It was kind of like a David Lynch movie.
35 hours from the time we left on this mission, we decided neither of us could function, and pulled off to find a hotel. This was me. I stood three feet from the elevator turning in a circle looking for it. Yeah, fried. Nothing 12 hours of sleep wouldn't fix.
Insert angelic choir music. This was our bed.
Here's me after sleeping for twelve hours. Okay, not straight. If I'd have been a robot there would have been little access panels hanging open and stuff sparking inside, and probably smoke drifting out. I woke up about every 2 or 3 hours feeling like total crap-- sweating, shaking, disoriented. I drank as much water as I could. I suppose living exclusively on caffeine for that whole time was a bad move health-wise.
I thought I was all normal the next day, but things tipped me off I wasn't. Like not knowing what town we were in, and having no memory of eating my banana, and two minutes later wanting to eat my banana and finding only the peel. My brain was trying to reset.
Got home Sat night. With nothing going on sun I decided to check out the mountain bike race at the trail. Now that's a fire!
Some of the girl racers-- Sam in the camo, Lisa in red, and Kristi in the orange. Kristi is basically superhuman. Races with the advanced men. I'm obviously in total awe of all these gals.
Someone showed up with this bike-- super skinny road tires. The guy doesn't go with the bike.
I took a bunch of video and visited with some people. It was fun, but I still wasn't right and started getting an ocular migraine (where my vision shatters and becomes tunnel-vision and I get kind of disoriented). I was like that for a couple days after my big crash, but hardly ever get these, only a few times in my life really.
I still feel kind of weird, but will just drink lots of water and eat actual food for a few days. If I can help it, I'll never fly delta, or go to Tallahassee again in my life.
I borrowed TPam's GPS & road atlas, packed a carry-on with road food and a couple changes of clothes, pulled on my new awesome "Natasha" boots (get out the friggin' bullwhip), and hit the airport.
At our very first connection they gate-checked our carry-ons because the overheads were too small-- and somehow lost them between the door of the plane and the baggage loader thingy 10 feet away. They not only lost them, they didn't scan them into the system so it was like they didn't exist.If you haven't just gasped and scooted closer to your screen, you don't understand people. This bag had my kitty hat in it! And my choppers! And my cool new end-of-the-season-sale Van's! And the new scandalous undies I bought at Target. The elderly man who rang me up went to a lot of trouble for these-- turning all red while fumbling with the little plastic hanger thing and getting all exasperated. Not only that-- look at this haul-- headlamp, ninja wear, other awesome hat, south beach diet bars...
By the time the Delta employees determined, "Yep. You guys are pretty screwed alright." we were almost missing our next connection. We were supposed to take this little train to the next terminal-- but it for some reason went down as soon as we got on. After figuring out it wasn't going anywhere any time soon, we got off and ran. We ran through this whole underground passageway thing, past 3 of those moving sidewalk deals. I had a hold of our one remaining bag- the messenger bag containing our laptop & electronics, so was kind of dying after a while. It was like running with a big bag of kitty litter.Dan was ahead of me and I was getting really pissed he wasn't waiting. Then he goes, "Well, here. Let me take the bag. I'll be able to run with it better." (Really? It's easier to run not carrying a giant heavy bag? Seriously??!) Those who know me well, know that was enough to make me refuse to let go of the bag ever. He'd have to pry it from my Charlton Heston hands.
We made the flight. We made the next connection, and arrived in Tallahassee a mere 8 1/2 hours later. They still had no clue about our bags. So I'm now in Fla, wearing snow boots and a wool turtleneck.
Eventually we got them back (six hours later), after this whole stupid episode of them being locked in an empty office in the ghost-town airport. There were NO employees, no people, anywhere-- and they knew we were coming because they'd called to tell us where to pick up.
I resorted to putting on a show for the security camera- pretending to kick down the door, flipping double-barreled birds at the dark office, and shadow boxing at the camera, trying to get someone to come out of somewhere. I suppose I'm lucky TSA people didn't tackle me. Finally they let us have them.
Let's just say, things continued to go down hill. If I was Godzilla, the city of Tallahassee would be a smoldering ruin by now. There would be crumpled cars and burning piles of shit all over the place.
By 1 a.m. we'd taken a $60 cab ride, lost our other bag (the one with our computer etc in it.)-- (Not to name names, but hubs left it in our cab), dealt with the used car people (whose computer kept crashing so we were trapped there for a while while I frantically tried to locate our cab driver), been directed all over town looking for a hotel by the GPS which was apparently freaking out, making us do U-turns all over and bringing us back to the same skanky Super 8 over and over like freaking groundhog day.
The last time we wound up there I just started laughing. It was that or cry. So we sat in the lot and laughed like a couple idiots, then went, "You know what?-- Screw it. Let's just drive." It was like the city had become a venus flytrap and we were the hamburger. So we fired up the so-far not-very-trusty GPS and headed north.
I was so trashed by now from all the stress and lack of sleep, it took me a while to realize the GPS had somehow decided we should avoid interstates at all costs, and was routing us through every back road in northern Florida/southern Alabama. When I finally figured out another way from the maps, we were stuck waiting for this bizarre middle-of-the-night parade of at least 50 'Bama state troopers, and various other vehicles with government seals on the doors to pass before we could get on the highway. It was kind of like a David Lynch movie.
35 hours from the time we left on this mission, we decided neither of us could function, and pulled off to find a hotel. This was me. I stood three feet from the elevator turning in a circle looking for it. Yeah, fried. Nothing 12 hours of sleep wouldn't fix.
Insert angelic choir music. This was our bed.
Look. Behold the super cleanness, the soft comfy-ness... When we laid down it was like, "TIMBER!" I could feel all the fluid in my body leveling. We were both out within minutes.
Here's me after sleeping for twelve hours. Okay, not straight. If I'd have been a robot there would have been little access panels hanging open and stuff sparking inside, and probably smoke drifting out. I woke up about every 2 or 3 hours feeling like total crap-- sweating, shaking, disoriented. I drank as much water as I could. I suppose living exclusively on caffeine for that whole time was a bad move health-wise.
I thought I was all normal the next day, but things tipped me off I wasn't. Like not knowing what town we were in, and having no memory of eating my banana, and two minutes later wanting to eat my banana and finding only the peel. My brain was trying to reset.Got home Sat night. With nothing going on sun I decided to check out the mountain bike race at the trail. Now that's a fire!
Some of the girl racers-- Sam in the camo, Lisa in red, and Kristi in the orange. Kristi is basically superhuman. Races with the advanced men. I'm obviously in total awe of all these gals.
Someone showed up with this bike-- super skinny road tires. The guy doesn't go with the bike.
I took a bunch of video and visited with some people. It was fun, but I still wasn't right and started getting an ocular migraine (where my vision shatters and becomes tunnel-vision and I get kind of disoriented). I was like that for a couple days after my big crash, but hardly ever get these, only a few times in my life really.I still feel kind of weird, but will just drink lots of water and eat actual food for a few days. If I can help it, I'll never fly delta, or go to Tallahassee again in my life.
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