Monday, June 15th, 2009
One of my most prized possessions is my lovely bike, Clooney. My ride to work in the morning is bliss. I lock him up outside my workplace and to my dismay, when my 12 hour work day is done, someone has always taken it upon themselves to fuck with my Clooney!
No cool amigos, not cool at all.
See, I have put a couple of baskets on my bike (one on the front, one on the back), to make life easier for myself (because I end up with mucho bags when I finish a shopping trip). Apparently, dumb ass pedestrians seem to mistake these baskets for trash cans on a daily basis. Every day, after work when I go to unlock my bike for the ride home, there is quite the assortment of shit in those baskets.
The most popular thing people like to put in there is food wrappers. Empty McDonalds bags with half a nugget and limp cold fries with ketchup seeping out, Starbucks mocca -chocca- mini- skinny- soy- latte- voulez- vous- couchez- avec- moi- ce- soir-acinno cups, those nasty ass street kebab polystyrene packages – they’ve all somehow found their way to rest in my baskets. What is more annoying than people’s nasty trash is that less than 10 steps away from where I park my bike is a MOTHERBITCHING TRASH CAN!
But I can tell by the trash they leave behind that they are fat, lazy bastards. Probably the last thing they need in life is that McDonalds. And to waddle their fat asses 10 more steps to the trash can, will clearly leave them in need of a paramedic.
I hate people.
The other day when I went to the gym, I came out to find the back basket on Clooney was stuffed with a plastic bag full of old, dirty, smelly clothes. Um, what the fuck?! I took it and flung it on the sidewalk. A homeless woman nearby, broke from a crowd of her homeless homies and came running over apologising. Apparently, those clothes were hers. Does my bike look like your closet? Bitch, please!
And to top off the random ‘crap in a basket’ phenomena, of course, the Jehovah’s Witnesses had to get involved. I found a big ass leaflet from them in my basket, because apparently my choice of bike indicates that I live a life of sin.
I would like to encourage anyone who passes by my bike, to find religion. And people better pray to Peter, Paul and Mary that I don’t catch putting anything in those baskets.
Tags: bikes, Clooney., lazy stupid disrespectful people, trash
Posted in life | 2 Comments »
Thursday, July 17th, 2008
A few weeks ago, I wrote my life list.
So, I figured, I better get cracking on some of this stuff.
This week’s challenge was number ten on my list: Get back into dance and perform.
I’m not quite at the performance stage just yet, but I took my first jazz class in over 3 years and frankly, I rocked it.
I was a little apprehensive as I stepped into the large studio space into a room full of serious looking leotard-donned people (I opted for the track pants/tank top casual dance ensemble). I sat down and did some random stretches, hoping the basic warm-up techniques would come back to me.
The teacher arrived and did the first half of the warm up on the floor. I stretched and got loose to the sounds of Janet Jackson and followed along quite nicely. The second half of the warm up was a whole bunch of ballet, which caught me off guard. I tried to blend in, but most likely looked like someone who just got off the ‘special bus’.
Then came the ‘routine’ portion of the class. Mid way through, I needed CPR, but I battled through to the end. And as my toes pointed and my arms stretched and my body twisted, turned and leaped, I realised, I’ve missed this. So much. I wanted the beat to keep playing and my body to just keep moving.
I left sweaty, tired and blissfully happy.
Then came the next day. I woke up with that satisfied feeling, you know the one, where your body feels a little fatigued because you put it through its paces. The bike ride to work wasn’t too bad. Over the course of the day, I noticed that when I’d get up from my desk, my legs weren’t cooperating with the program with their usual ease. The pace of my walk slowed down somewhat and a dull ache spread throughout my entire body, to the point that lifting my pen felt like championship weightlifting.
As you’ve probably guessed, the bike ride home was not pretty. Come home time, my legs were in full on failure. The pedals on Clooney felt like giant rocks that I was trying to push up hill. ‘Are those….muscles?’ I asked myself, looking down at my shaky legs as they attempted to get me home. The harder I tried to pedal, the more I appeared to be going in slow motion. I had to stop midway up a hill and wave the cars around me as I caught my breath (and it wasn’t even really a hill, more of a ‘slight incline’, I just thought ‘hill’ would make it sound better).
As I sit here now, I’m not sure if I’ll ever regain full use of my legs, my right shoulder and I think I have sustained permanent damage to my pinky toe, but I can’t wait for next week’s class.
Bring it bitches, bring it all on!
Tags: bikes, Clooney., dancing, pain
Posted in life | 3 Comments »
Tuesday, June 17th, 2008
It’s the dawn of a new day bitches! And this day involves me riding a bike. Yup, that’s how I roll. Literally.
On Saturday, after weeks of intense pondering, I decided to bite the bullet and buy myself a two-wheeled wonder. Understand, I had not been on a bike since I was about 12, so it was a big decision, centered mainly around how ridiculous I would look on it.
Saturday morning, bright and early, I took myself to Canadian Tire to test drive a few bikes. I had had my heart set on a cruiser, but it was way bigger than I thought it would be. I couldn’t figure out a dainty way to swing my leg over the seat. Just then, I glanced to my left and there He was. The bike of my dreams. A spotlight zoomed in on it and a choir of angels sang as the voice of God (played by the voice of Tim Gunn of TV’s Project Catwalk) said, ‘Oh honey, that’s the one.’
It’s a Schwinn folding bike in a fetching shade of maroon (normally not a great color, but on my bike, it’s the shit, OK?) I told my sales assistant (a guy in his 40s who had a weave that made him look like a pimp from the 70s) ‘pump up those tires, I’m taking that bad boy!’
A few minutes later, I out of the store, but too scared to actually ride the bike, so I just walked with it for a few blocks trying to look cool. Three blocks later, I decided I had to get on. I mounted Clooney (yes, that is what I named him. Let’s face it, it’s the closest I’m going to get to George) and after a couple of shaky seconds, I was cruising. I decided to bike to another shop to buy myself a good lock. It was a perfect day for biking; the sunshine, the wind blowing through my hair, the near brushes with death – it made me feel alive, I tell ya!
I bought the lock and biked home. But I could not stay put. I was looking for any excuse to get out on Clooney. I biked to the other side of town to visit my friend at work. I biked home. I biked to get a facial. I biked home. I biked to my friend’s house party. I biked home. By the end of the day, I’d clocked up over 20 miles.
Sunday, I cycled downtown again to get a basket for Clooney. The guys in the shop convinced me to get two; one on the front for my purse and one on the back for ‘cargo’. I’m not exactly sure what ‘cargo’ I’ll have, but I liked the fact that they thought I might have some. ‘So, you can just attached them on there and you’re good to go,’ says the dopey sales assistant. ‘Um, that would imply that I own tools, ‘ I say. ‘Do I look like I own tools?’ Dopey sales guy agreed that his assumption was stupid as hell and got to work screwing on the baskets.
Then I rode Clooney uptown to go shoe shopping. I went in for shoes and came out with sandals, a clutch purse, earrings and a bangle. (I blame my lack of focus on the heat.) When I finally emerged from the store, I felt a few raindrops. I dashed across the street to where I’d parked Clooney, shoved my goods in my ‘cargo’ basket and scrambled to get on the seat. I had barely cycled a couple of yards when the heavens opened and absolutely drenched me. Let me tell you, rain hurts when you’re going at high speeds! I just wanted to get home as quickly as possible so I kept peddling, saying ‘ow, ow, OW!’ as the rain thrashed against my face and soaked through my clothes. By the mid-way point, I was praising Jesus that I had decided to wear a bra.
I made it home before the thunder and lightening hit. I lay in bed, watched the sky light up and listened to the thunder, feeling satisfied that I finally made a commitment to get active. My ass is killing me and my legs are in a constant state of cramp, but it is damn worth it.
So, here’s to Clooney, the new man in my life (and to me having buns of steel by august).
Tags: bikes, Clooney., fitness, shopping
Posted in life | 4 Comments »