Sep
12
September 12, 2006
Today I took a piece of well-chewed gum out of my mouth and crumpled it into a kleenex, then a few moments later, having jettisoned a particularly relevant piece of data (TISSUE CONTAINS GOOEY CORE OF GUM) from my brain, I started to use it to blow my nose. I caught the smell of mint and remembered, oh shit, and pulled the kleenex away only to observe a filament of Eclipse “Polar Ice” connecting the wad of tissue to my nose. There I sat, in my office where I am theoretically a professional in charge of software marketing strategies, with gum stuck to my nose, and maybe 15 inches of gum-thread trailing through the air to the tissue in my hand.
Also, there is currently a grayish smear of sticky residue on the inside of our clothes dryer, since I apparently left a wad of tissue-wrapped gum in a pocket at some point, and cleverly ran it through the laundry instead of, oh, I don’t know, removing it and throwing it in the fucking garbage where it belonged.
It’s a sad day when you realize you are officially too stupid to chew gum without negative repercussions. I may need to switch to those flavored Listerine cellophane things that burn the crap out of your tongue.
:::
A couple of tasty links:
• Turn up your speakers and sing along to this one:
All we want to do is eat your brains
We’re not unreasonable, I mean, no one’s gonna eat your eyes…
• McSweeney’s: …if the suburban neighborhood pool were in Deadwood. (Thanks, Amber!)
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Boring website housekeeping note:
If you’re interested in receiving email notifications when I update this website, I installed a plugin that purports to do just that. I’ve tested it on three of my own addresses, and it seems to work fine; it includes a short text-only blurb of the entry, and a link. I’m going to transition away from Notifylist.com in favor of this method, because while Notifylist is in fact free and there’s a school of thought that says you get what you pay for, it’s awfully damn inconsistent. Messages tend to get delayed for hours on end, or just disappear into the ether. The new system should be better, although you may have to whitelist my address so your spam filter doesn’t decide that I’m trying to sell you some fine Gev@lia coffee or transferring my Nairobi millions to your bank account or increasing both the length and width of your P-Unit.
You can sign up here.
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And now for a small rant:
The office where I work is located in a congested area; it’s positioned on a quasi-residential street that also contains coffee shops and miscellaneous retail stores. In order to back out of the parking lot and head in the direction of home, I stare bug-eyed out the back window, take a deep breath and hit the gas, then pray for survival as I flail to get my car shifted into drive and revved up to 47 MPH, since the people whipping around the nearby corner always make me wonder if this time they won’t bother slowing down before driving halfway up my large intestine.
A block away, I have to turn left through a busy intersection, yielding to oncoming traffic that’s either going straight, or turning right but refusing to stay in the righthand lane and instantly drifting into the left, which is the lane I’m trying to turn into. There is also an extremely active crosswalk to contend with, bristling with iPodded UW students, people wearing designer fleece vests pushing jogging strollers, and a smattering of elderly people just to make it even harder. It’s like some stressful reverse Frogger game, where I am trying to look in twelve directions at once in order to miss colliding with pedestrians, various assholes driving like they’ve got their laboring wife in the passenger seat and the head is starting to crown, and worst of all, the bicyclists.
I’m all for saving the environment and lowering air pollution and being a commendable citizen, but I swear to god the bicyclists in Seattle – at least the ones I contend with every work day – need to be force-fed a plate of veal then have their Croc-clog-wearing, soybean-eating, pubic-beard-sporting asses flattened by a giant Hummer.
I don’t know if they think they’re surrounded by an impenetrable Forcefield of Righteousness or what, but I see people flying through red lights, zipping across crosswalks blaring DON’T WALK (OR RIDE A BIKE, DIPSHIT), blasting past walkers while simultaneously yelling “ON YOUR LEFT” (which does exactly no good whatsoever, as it only startles the pedestrian and gives them no chance to get out of the way) and ringing their obnoxious little bells.
And maybe I’m just woefully uninformed, but aren’t bicyclists supposed to follow the rules of the road? Like a car? “Oh, right now I’m a car, but that light just turned red so I’m a pedestrian! Actually I’m above the law, as I have sausaged myself into a skin-tight jersey emblazoned with the names of companies who, hello, are not sponsoring me, as I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE. On your left!”
I hate having a close call with a bicyclist because 1) it scares the shit out of me, and 2) if anything, godforbid, happened, who do you think would be at fault? Even if Nick Numbnuts ran a light and was going the wrong way and actually rode directly into the front of my car while I was stopped, I’m pretty sure I’d be getting sued.
So, bikers of Seattle’s Montlake/Blakeley area, if you see a bug-eyed woman driving a white Corolla, give her a break, please. And for god’s sake, roll down that one dorky pantleg when you’re done riding.
:::
Baby photos? IF YOU INSIST:
My god, won’t someone allow this child into the backyard where he can devour all the dog turds he wants?
Do not be fooled by The Cute. He is plotting to blow bananas in your hair.
Gosh, isn’t it heartwarming, the tail-gumming love between a boy and his stuffed stingray?
Comments
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My product review site:
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Just do what I do- the weinie “please don’t follow me and kill me” flip of the birdie.
I call it the “under-dash-flash”. It’s like Yaaaah eat THAT you bitches! But you’re still all safe and warm and no one knows but you. Nice.
Also, I have to know if the minty fresh smell from the melted gum gives your left-too-long-sour-stanky-laundry a nice smelling boost? If so, bonus!
Also Also, Jonniker? Uh, is that doggie poppy bag EMPTY or are their trace remnants of what normally occupies a poopbag? Cause whoa, stinkerville.
Honeybecke, they’re empty and unused, leftover in a variety of pockets. I’m glad you asked, lest throngs of readers think I put old dog poop in the dryer.
(Do not ask me what possessed me to check the comments again – I don’t know, to see if cyclists had rioted and were planning to take Sundry’s house by storm, leaving no one unscathed but Riley?)
Thanks a lot – I had “All we wanna do is eat your brains” running through my head on an endless loop for most of yesterday. I was afraid I was going to start absentmindedly singing it under my breath, causing my husband to think I’d lost my mind.
Wait… I think he thinks that anyway. Never mind.
Of all the driving lessons from our Nation’s Capitol, where I once resided, the one applicable to you today is to pretend the bicyclists are not there. If you try to “save them” they will inevitably get in your way. Let them work themselves out. They don’t follow any traffic laws except one which says don’t get hit.
Anways… cute stingray. Can you account for its whereabouts last week? Otherwise, it may be part of some parallel universe Law and Order episode…
Jonniker: Oh so glad.
Heh. Gawd!
I’m glad you answered back, because the thought of dryer+doggy poop was nearly too much to fathom. Yay for un-used doggy poop bags!
Not to belabor the issue, but there are two laws: the written law and the law of physics. Bicyclists are, by nature, more vulnerable — just as motorcyclists are. Regardless of what color you wear, it’s hard to see you. (I hate the noisy Harleys, but in some ways it’s good protection!) And while I agree with Jim that if you consider the ratio of bicyclists to motorists that 90% of both parties disobey the laws, the bottom line is that it is potentially much more serious when a bicyclist disregards traffic laws. It just… is. So all you bicyclists, keep on rollin’. I personally (and I’m sure I speak for many) don’t hate you, we’re just afraid we’ll hurt you. That would suck for both of us. So ride safe, mmmkay? On our part, we’ll keep an eye out for you.
I hate walking anywhere where pedestrians and bicyclists mix because, inevotably, bicyclists think they can leap over my cane, like some pedestrains also think that they can, and it ends up banana-shaped and useless by the end of the day. Granted, that’s not a daily thing, but it still annoys me when people talk about bicyclists. I know there are considerate bicyclists out there; the rotten apple spoils the bunch, etc. Still, walking with cyclists and major crowds in general can be vry frustrating.
I hear you on the cyclists, and I feel your pain – I live a wee bit north of you in Vancouver. Bike paths EVERYWHERE. I drive down a reasonably busy road by work every day which is crossed by a bike path. The BIKE PATH has the stop signs. And few of them stop.
The sense of entitlement gets me.
Oh and the riding on sidewalks thing? You know, I can understand that: quite honestly, if I were a cyclist, I’d probably ride on the sidewalks too.
But, dudes, when there are bike paths, either direction, ONE BLOCK AWAY that the cyclists fought for? Use ’em.
so I’m confused– it sounds like if the cyclist rings the bell and says “on your left” they are Assholes, but if they say nothing and whosh by in steath mode they are… Assholes! hmmmm.
We have a couple great multi use trails here on Vancouver island, which are for pedestrians and bikes. So, the “on your left’ is used alot– although as with anything, it is generally the unpredictable movements that get you hit… pedestrians not knowing which side their LEFT is, so they freeze, turn around, and dart out in front of you….
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