Geek Haiku - Awesome!

A sad story line
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Proof that Bikers are Respectful

Cristy and I have always said that we feel safer in a room full of bikers, or at the local biker bar than we do in a room fool of seemingly "normal" men. The fact of the matter is... I have never once been pawed, groped, grabbed, pinched, hooted at or otherwise by a Biker. I have never been shown anything but the utmost respect.

Case in point: I was at a club recently (which will remain nameless because the place does not deserve even the slightest of free pimpage) that housed a wide variety of characters. There were your normal every day joes, your yuppies, your rednecks, your token metal head and yes, even a handful of bikers. The music was as varied, a few country songs followed by some old school rock, rounded out with some new rock... Anyway, I, along with my party-mates for the evening, walked into this packed club. We made our way towards the back area and this rather nice biker, in a fairly grand gesture, put out his arm and moved a few folks out of the way so that we could get by. This happened again later with a different biker. Not long after these random acts of kindness, I was standing shoulder to shoulder at the bar attempting to get a drink from the otherwise occupied bartender (too busy dancing to do her job) when this "normal guy" decided to start petting my back. At first I didn't even notice and then he increased his advances and move his hand around to my waist at which point I pivoted on my heel and gave him a death glare to which he responded appropriately -- stepping back with hands in the air. Moments later he began to pull on the length of my hair with his forefinger and thumb and he received a similar glare, causing him to move on to my friend. Later, I was dancing next to a rather aged biker who apparently (I found out later) was appreciative of my dancing, but never once did he make an untoward advance or lewd gesture. Now that my friends is class, and that is why I feel safer in a group of bikers!!! The end!

Heebie Jeebies

I woke up this morning and begin my daily ritual (brush teeth, comb hair, wash face). I was drying my face on the towel hanging next to me, and as I stepped back I immediately noticed something crawling across said towel. Let me first point out that the creature calling my towel "home" had to be big enough for me to see without my glasses (read: I can't see a thing without them). This rather large, brown, furry spider, which was now scurrying for its life - was quickly deposited into the toilet and flushed (sorry buddy, under different circumstances you might have been spared) and my towel was tossed into the dirty clothes hamper--I dunno maybe I thought I was going to get spider cooties or something. It's now going on 2:00 p.m. and my skin is STILL crawling. That's just not a cool way to start your day!

I GOT MY MINI

No, I'm not talking about a new skirt, or a feminine hygiene product. I'm talking about my new car! My British Racing Green Metallic Mini Cooper. Those of you that know me, know I've loved this car from afar for quite a long time. When they came out with the new ones it pushed any thoughts of a VW convertible right out the window. And you don't even want to know how much digging I had to do to find one that had everything I wanted on it. As it was, I was totally into getting a red one with white bonnet stripes, but none of them had the prerequisite Black leather interior, Dual Panel Sun roof, Harman Kardon CD/Stereo, 5 Star Silver Alloy Rims, chrome accents, sport package, etc. So I located one in Alabama that had everything but for the bonnet stripes and it was green. I thought about it for a while, contemplated getting it painted, and then by the time I ordered I had fallen in love with the green. (See, sometimes these things work this way for a reason). Waiting for it to be delivered was a form of torture. I got the call yesterday, while I was busy cleaning out the garage (to make room of course) and picked it up last night. Thus ends my update... I gotta go drive!

Today's UA Index is Down
I've started this new rating scale regarding the unwanted attention us gals tend to receive when we would generally rather be left alone. An example would be, while we're out walking, getting exercise with the added benefit of trying to clear our heads of whatever might be troubling us. (In other words, a time in which we certainly don't find the cat calls and thought interrupting horn beeps endearing.)

Yesterdays UA index was fairly high with four honks and a holler --which we attempted to combat with one obscene finger gesture. Thankfully the caution was slightly dropped today with a dip in the UA to 2/1 (That's two honks and one holler). Great day to get out there and enjoy, ladies.

I curse every day that I have to walk on a busy street to get some exercise. I also look forward to the day when the entire construction crew down the street finishes those freaking condos!

Door to Door Kirbys?

Did you know that they still sell vacuums door-to-door? I had no idea! I was a little stunned when this obviously tired and overworked woman showed up at my door at 9:00 at night telling me she'd get paid to show me some cleaning techniques. Having spent most of the evening preparing to take delivery of my furniture and belongings at my new residence, and probably looking like it -- I was in need of a break and, wanting to help the lady out I figured... Let her do her schpiel and get paid. Why not right? I told her off the bat that I wasn't buying anything so hey, I'm not obligated!

Next thing I know she and her supervisor are dragging in this huge box and assembling a Kirby. (Mind you these things are like the best vacuums EVER.) So she did a demo (cleaning a bunch of stuff in my house, including my mattress so I'm not complaining) and the supervisor would pop in here and there to see how she was doing. Near the end of the demonstration the supervisor decided to take over (I thought she was doing a pretty good job so not sure why he dove in) and once finished attempted to sell me the product. I refused and refused, and said I'd consider, despite his attempts at the hard sell. By now it's after 11 and I see them to the door. The supervisor starts to thank me for my time of course, and for allowing them to come in so late. He then proceeds to turn towards me, says "I just have to give you a hug", and pulls me into this firm embrace. I was completely taken off guard! Once they left it occurred to me... That was completely inappropriate!

No really?!?! Sure, all salesmen hug their prospective clients goodbye! Ah-hem...

I fell off a curb...

That was the response I gave my doctor while he inspected my severely pained wrist and hand. "I wish I could say it happened in a glorious manner, but in actuality, I fell... off a curb." He paused, most likely to hold back the laughter, and said "Well, was it at least a spectacular fall?" "Yes, yes it was!" I replied. "And most importantly," he said, "did anyone see you?" "Oh yes! I fell right in front of a trucker who I'm pretty sure got a good laugh at the flurry of flailing legs and hair." "I'm sorry" he says "that's the worst part of it." "Well, I thought, the least he could have done was to stop and see if I was okay!" "Not around here" he quipped (apparently guys are rude in Charlottesville). For my troubles I wound up at the ER for 2 hours waiting to get x-rays only to find out that it was just severely sprained.

How Much For That Lady On The Lawnchair?

On my way out of a local department store I decided to make a quick telephone call. Instead of getting behind the wheel and distracting myself (don't you hate drivers that do that?), I made myself somewhat comfortable on a patio furniture display to make my call. As I started to dial the number, an unassuming gentlemen pushing a cart full of purchases paused long enough to ask - "Are you included in the price of the set?" "Excuse me," I replied, to which he gleefully repeated himself. I smiled back politely and tossed him a friendly "No, I'm sorry..." to which he responded "Oh, because I was going to run right back in for that bargain." After he was long gone I contemplated it and thought... Well hell yeah, I better be worth more than 499 bucks!!!

Give The Man His Beer

My Grandfather was admitted into the hospital on Easter Sunday. We're not quite sure why he collapsed - it could be a number of things from something serious, to a reaction from his medications. So they're testing him and trying to find out what's goign on--Meanwhile, they've told him that he's not allowed to drink anymore. Not suprisingly, he's refused.

Looking back, I can't remember a time when Grampa didn't have a beer in his hand. Family photographs are smattered with him clad in his "beer can" hat holding a 12oz of anything from P.O.C. (Pride of Cleveland beer), to Old Millwater or Beast. And he's always smelled like a mixture of aftershave, alcohol and hops, a combination that would smell less than sweet on another. He's outlived WWII, prostate cancer and bad lungs (yeah he won't quit smoking either), and has had a wonderfully full life. So why begrudge the man his two beers a day (or so he says) - how else is he to survive my commonly-dysfunctional family?

Kimmie the Klutz

Imagine this if you will...

Kimmie was doing her power walk, on the same path that she walks on... day in and out. On this occasion she was gabbing with her friend about proper walking procedure.

Suzie: "You have to walk with your butt, not your knees."
Kimmie: "I do! I am! Look at my butt! Look at my butt!!!" she yells over her shoulder, taking her eyes off the path just long enough to ensure that she'll catch the side of the asphalt, causing her ankle to roll outward and bring her right shin scraping down on the jagged edge of the walk. Now it should be noted that there is approximately a four inch drop in the asphalt at various parts of the path since "the association" (aka "the man") built up the path which Kimmie believes is the direct result of this, her third fall on the path. Kimmie now sports a 3x8 inch area along her shin, marked with almost immediate bruising. We love scabs. Scabs are great!!! They cause you to opt for cargo pants in place of that cute skirt on the first warm day of the year! Damn it!!!

Thought for the Day

It takes years to build up trust,
and it only takes suspicion, not proof, to destroy it.