Saturday, September 13, 2008

Black is the new Brooklyn Machine Works

I've been trying to quit smoking for some time now. I did a solid job on cutting back without a problem, and I've even quit buying cigarettes for the most part. I still buy tobacco pouches when the moment hits, which is usually several beers into the night. I still, however, can not go without cigarettes entirely throughout the day. I've kept myself mostly limited to 2-3 smokes a day, but like any addiction, you will inevitably make exceptions. I didn't smoke 3 yesterday, so I can smoke 4 today. It's a hard thing to do, especially when the core of your motivation is to not get grounded on the weekend by your roommate. Anyways, I'm usually pretty good at not smoking until the beers get cracked, which is another thing all together. Mostly I've just come to accept that I'm a casual yet consistant smoker.

Speaking of making exceptions, I'm going to get completely shit faced tonight since I didn't do anything for my Friday night because I was sleepy. Since I'm going to have to condense my partying to one night this weekend I have to make it really count, right?

If you had a hundred extra dollars what would you spend it on?

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Knock Knock

It's 9/11 mother fuckers!! BLAUUU

No, but, really. I am going to quit my job if I don't get a big raise, pronto. It's a cute gig and whatever-the entire jam is relatively laid back-but my ass is broke. Something has to change, and it's not going to be my attitude. I have been pretty gracious and hard-working long enough. This is pretty much the most American problem I experience in my day to day... Working too hard for no money. Fuck. I'm a bitch.

Dan's been trying to get us all to stay home with him while he has been sick. I know he has only mentioned trying to persuade Dwain, but he definitely asked me, too. Most definitely. He doesn't like to admit it, but he totally needs me.

The biggest news in my life is that I recently bought a pair of dunks that match my Cinelli perfectly. Photos to come.

I can't stop listening to Q-Tip tell me about a vivrant thing. Seriously. I am bugging.

On sick days and the beginnings of life.

Sick days as a courier are hard.

They almost always seem like the days when the weather is just perfect and Dwain decides to go to work instead of slack off and keep me company.

All the cat does is sleep all day. On every surface imaginable. She was just sleeping on my CETMA rack until I put new tie down cords on it. What the hell? That cant be comfortable. Why cant we have a non retarded cat.

Speaking of Dwain, his new BMW is good looking to the max. And light to boot. Looks like they finally decided to make their bikes out of butted tubes instead of the gas pipe they were using before. The new bike complete ways less then his old frame and fork alone. It could also be the absurdly light front wheel he is borrowing from me.

I used the sick day to run some errands and attempt to compose my cat 3 upgrade request. According to the points chart that Alan emailed me I should have enough points. It says winning a stage race is worth 20 points. I only need 20 points to become a cat 3. Somehow I feel like its not going to be that easy. Getting upgraded from cat 5 to 4 required like seven email exchanges with various USA cycling officials. I mean yes I was lying through my teeth about the amount of races I had actually done. But shit its not like I’m trying to become a cat 1 it shouldn’t be that complicated to upgrade to a cat that simply requires you to show up to a set number of races regardless of how you actually place.

Anyway on to the beginnings of life.

According to Dwain this is how it went.

“Something greater than you and I had to take a big shit and did so.”

Eva’s response was a bit more convoluted. She talked about how my text message typo of lefe instead of life which she believed to be Leffe which means beer had enough symbolism in it to allude to how she imagined life began.

Chances are that life started when something somewhere in the deeply remote past seriously traumatized a small random group of atoms drifting through space which made them clump together in extraordinary unlikely patterns. These patterns quickly learned to replicate them selves and then went on to cause massive trouble on every planet they drifted on to.

At least that sounded convincing when I read it high school. These theories I’m sure have been proven defunct by someone somewhere with a ten billion dollar particle accelerator.