Leg Stubble

Shaved legs on women are something we sometimes take for granted. They're sexy. Silky smooth and touchable. Mmmm....shaved legs are hot!

Shaved legs on men....are just as sexy! Unbelievably so, but true! How do I know? Well, I just shaved my legs yesterday, and ooh, they're hottt! I just want to rub my hands all over them all day long. And boy, do I feel aerodynamic now. I jumped on my bike and was like "whooahhh!!! I can't stop! I'm flying here! Holy crap!" Then when they get all sweaty in the middle of a workout, they glisten and shimmer, and you can see the veins popping out & stuff. I finally feel like I fit in. With...uh...my crowd of leg-shaving men, of course

I'm pretty well aware that most of the readers of this blog are probably cyclists anyway, but I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume that there may possibly be some non-cyclists out there. I forgive you, but get on that fucking bike NOW .I don't know how many times I have to reiterate that there won't be any oil after the apocalypse, so if you want to survive, you best get on two wheels, damnit.

Anyway, my legs are dead sexy right now. And ladies, jesus christ, shaving your legs is a pain in the ass. It took me for freakin' ever to do this. Maybe it was because each and every hair was half an inch long or something - they kept on clogging up my razor, and it wasn't shaving anything. Maybe it's easier the next time, when I'm just shaving whatever grows in. Although by that point, my legs might be pretty disgusting. As it is, I missed spots all over the place. Like on the knees and stuff. Are there any tips you can share from the secret brotherhood of women? Or..uh...I guess that would be a sisterhood then. Seriously. The payoff (super-sexy aerodynamism) is worth it, but it certainly was a pain in the ass to get there.

Some more white people just moved in across the street.

As I rode back to my Crown Heights apartment today, I saw a dude and his chick bringing their stuff into the building across the street. This is a great threat to my "only white kid on the block" status. It is a status I prize highly. Used to be that you could go out on the street, yell "HEY CRACKA", and moments later I'd open the window and say "what?". Now? Ozzie & Harriet over here might pop out the window, and Ward & June over there might come out to the stoop..... Things have changed. This neighborhood is not going to be the same.

If only Miles Davis were more hardcore

If only he & Gil Evans got together and threw some double bass drum and thundering guitar riffs, Sketches of Spain would be the perfect way to drown out all of this crap around me that I wish I could pretend wasn't here. As it is, Sketches of Spain brings me to this relaxing, bucolic space...but there's too much *silence* in it. Miles and his damn *silence*!!! Dude needs to learn how to rip it up!!! I can still hear the footsteps of people walking by! I can still hear the creak and spin of my supervisor's swivel chair! I can still hear his goddamn cellphone ring tone, although I'll give him credit for turning it down ever since that day I hung up on whoever it was that was calling when he was out of the room. I can still hear the guys working on the front door of our office down the hall. Now, while I'm glad they're finally working on the front door, the fact is that we didn't have a front door - at all - for a week or two, is aggravating. We were *this* close to having a pretty glass door (which wasn't quite the iris-style "hatch" I was hoping for, but I can't have everything, usually). They installed the pretty new glass door. Then at the end of the day, they sealed it with drywall. Because no one checked to see if everything else was up to spec. It wasn't. Apparently, you need a sprinkler system in front of doors like that. There wasn't one. But the guys who built the door weren't told this until they''d completely finished the door. So at the end of the day, when they're done, they had to cover all their work up with drywall and come back two weeks later to do more work. It's the knowledge that someone somewhere doesn't have enough oxygen in their brains to plan ahead that I'm trying to drown out with Sketches of Spain. And while it makes me feel all nice inside, it's not like Slayer. Slayer destroys all.

Whoever read this book before me probably didn't do well on their paper

I'm reading Camus right now, because I'm smarter than you. The Plague, specifically. Now, I'm no genius (I mean come on...GIRLS can beat me at Connect-Four for god's sake. Yes, that's a lower case "g" there. That was intentional. Actually, it wasn't intentional. Either way, I don't know if it would've made sense in the context of Existentialism & Absurdism anyway.) So, I'm no genius, but one thing I DO often do is buy the used books from Amazon.com. Apparently, so does my sister. It was one of her Christmas gifts to me. I asked for a bunch of books last year. Why? Because I'm smarter than you, moron. I can READ. That, and I knew I was going to get everyone else shitty presents, so I didn't ask for the flatscreen 72" plasma TV that I *really* wanted. Thanks for getting it for me anyway, you bastards. (That's sarcasm. I don't have a TV. I sit at home watching a fucking record player. And reading. Fucking READING.)

Anyway, I'm reading the Plague right now. Not particularly uplifting. Or is it? (If I were writing a paper on it, that'd be my thesis statement. And there'd be a dramatic sound cue and zoom in to my inquisitive glare. BLACKOUT. Commercial Break)
But I'm not writing a paper. The guy who read this book before me, on the other hand, probably was. Things are underlined, notes are in the margins, uh...that's about it. Oh! Highlights! Things were highlighted, too. The funny part is that it sometimes seems like things are only underlined or highlighted in every other chapter. And there's much more underlining in the first half of the book. It kinda trails off after that. Someone got lazy, it looks. Also, someone's kinda dumb to be in college. I'm assuming this was a college read. Do kids read this in high school? Anyway, here's my judgemental evidence: (It's all about WHAT's underlined. Very telling. Very telling. I'll probably find out this was MY book in college, and I was stoned. Which would explain why I don't even remember reading it). Being stoned might also explain why he (let's call him Brian)...why Brian had to underline things like "laxity" and jot down "relaxed, slack, careless" in the margin, or underline "innoculations" and write "injection". It gets better.
"conscription": "draft";
"apathy": "lack of feeling, emotion";
"makeshift": "N. Something adopted as a temp. contrivance in an emergency; adj. having character of".
There's more, but I don't feel like finding it.

Dude, just look it up once and remember it. Are you retarded? Yes. You are. Am I judgemental? Yes. But when one defines "prophylactic" in the margins as "preventative", I would hope one wouldn't have to do it AGAIN twenty pages later! I can understand looking things up if you're not smart. That's OK. I sometimes have to look things up myself. Like your Mom's pager number. She keeps on changing it because she's trying to dodge the cops to beat that prostitution rap that she's so obviously guilty of. Am I judgemental? Yes, which is ironic, considering this not-underlined quote:

" ..... "

...........uh. shit. I can't find it. But it was something like "Poor [county magistrate] M. Othon! But can you really feel bad for a judge?" (His son had just died from the Plague, and they're all like "noooo, nooo, he didn't suffer at all, it was real quick. real quick" when in actuality, the passage of him dying is one of the most harrowing, drawn out, and torturous memories of the book) It's all about who gets to decide who lives and who dies. Or something. The quote was pretty good. But I didn't underline it.

Poop Break

It's important to multitask your work distractions. For example, I just took an afternoon dump, but instead of just dumping, I played Tetris on my cell phone for 6 or 7 minutes. Am I the only one who does this? As a matter of fact, I barely had to take a crap at all. Just a few little droplets. Still, I sat there until I had enough of those long pieces - tetris pieces - to get me out of the jam I was in back when I misplaced that "T" shaped piece. I'm pretty glad I spent the $7 for that cellphone game last time I was in the waiting room at my doctor's office. It was purchased for the express reason of killing time while waiting for the doctor, but I've found it's also very helpful when straining to pinch a loaf. This is my advice to you.

My change purse can kick your pocket's ass

Just think about that next time you tell me you haven't seen one of those since you were at the beach in 1983 and your mom was wearing this wretched floral print one-piece and your Dad had a moustache. You ARE your mom and dad at this point, suckas! Get a change purse! It's hip. Proof? No one else has one.