• Choosing the other way

    Yesterday I was presented with a choice. I was given an opportunity to react to some offensive behavior. I was given the opportunity to act like an adult, to place myself above the fray, and be an example of responsible behavior.

    And of course, once again I went the other way with it.

    Once again this choice presented itself on the road. Once again I was on my bike. Once again I was startled into a medium grade rage by a driver with a set of keys and a self appointed license to operate it like a jackass. These kids today! Apparently when the Xbox gets old, leaning out of car windows and screaming obscenities at bicyclists serves as a “good time.” Well, since this happens about once a week I’m usually prepared for it. My usual response? Ignore it. So why didn’t I ignore it this time? Opportunity. Apparently this new breed of jackass does this sort of thing within 100 feet of the turn off for his or her neighborhood. Opportunity knocks. In a flash I’m following them into the neighborhood and riding by as a kid is getting out of the car, in front of his house. I slowed down. The kid looked back like a deer staring down the headlights. I gave him the tried and true “you’re number one” sign, reassured him that my vocabulary has a few four letter words in it too, and continued on my way home.

    Why does it always seem that the rightness of a course of action is inversely proportional to its ease of execution? I don’t feel any better knowing that I’ve probably just guaranteed myself an encore performance this afternoon. In light of the whole “man v. car” thing, do you suppose Darwin is up there somewhere (or down there somewhere, depending on where you went to school) shaking his head?

  • Second guessing purchasing decisions

    I needed a pair of shoes for work. The old ones were developing an extra opening to the outside world, so it was finally time to find a replacement. Normally I can count on Cheryl to have better taste than me, but her choice of shoe was a bit unpractical, they don’t let you buy her choice without proper I.D. (re: AARP). That left me to make a choice of my own, and when ever I have to make my own fashion decisions we know there’s going to be trouble. I made a selection, we paid our money, and we went home. This morning I rode to work and put them both on for the first time with actual work clothes. Looking down at my feet, I’d swear these are the only shoes I’ve worn that are guaranteed to improve your time in the 100 meter freestyle. That or I look like a refugee from clown school.

    Maybe I should have gone for the “Retired Dentist” look after all.

  • The football gods have looked upon me with favor, or have they?

    Ho hum. Another Super Bowl. Anyone who says it’s as big a thrill the third time around is either lying, or kidding themselves.

    Now if I could just wake up.

    Seeing as how I’ve done such a wonderful job of caffeine impulse control (curse my damn ingenuity), I’m desperate for some pick-me-up. I could ask one of my coworkers to sneak up on me at random times during the day to try and scare me. “BOO!” That just might keep me on my toes. Here’s another thought, I could lance myself with a thumb tack. There’s nothing like a little sharp pain and self mutilation to get you going in the morning.

    Desperate times call for desperate measures.

    What I could really use is a Starbucks Mocha Frappachino. Sweet. Cold. Refreshing. Caffeinated. Manna from heaven.

    Wait a second! I’m an adult. I have a God given right to blame someone else for my fatigue. It’s all Cheryl’s fault. Yeah, that’s the ticket! She was like some kind of homemaker boot camp drill sergeant this weekend. “YOU CALL THAT CLEAN? WHAT’S A MATTER BOY? DIDN’T YOUR MAMA TEACH YOU TO MOP?” Sadly, on Saturday morning we did more before 9 a.m. than I had all month – and I’ve got the mop hand calluses to prove it.