Pedal...or Die!

Pedal Poppy and I joined the Bike Everywhere Challenge. We'll be riding with our fellow coworkers for the month of May logging as many miles as we can. Team name: BrokenHipsters. Motto: Pedal, or Die.

Last night we had a BrokenHipster Mixter with the team:

Left to right:

Oaktown-Kristin;
I-Wick-Moisture-Away-John;
Pedal-Or-Die-Poppy;
Reuse-Renew-Recycle-Abby;
278-T-Rob; and
If-It-Ain't-Broke-Break-It-Kelly

Today was my first ride so I thought I'd share it with you. It started all nice and happy...

Shortly into my ride and my first wee hill, Mama no happy!

So now I'm all self-talking in my head but there's nothing good to talk about. Here's some of the things I discussed among myself:

Why am I doing this?
This is really F'd up.
Am I a sin Fwench woman, yet?
This is bites!
My pee pee hurts.
Why is my water bottle leaking all over me?
Does my ass look big on this seat?

No pain, no gain, right? Speaking of pain, are those chest pains I'm having? Hmmm. Where's that SAG wagon with the red flashing lights and siren when I need it? I tried to drink more water from my dribble-sippy-water-bottle thing while I waited for the pain to pass. The only thing hydrated is the front of my jacket!

One thing about being a BrokenHipster is that you never...ever pass up an opportunity to pee. When you gotta go, you gotta go...

So, the chest pains subsided and I was on my merry way. I stopped here thinking maybe the Cods could save me, but all I saw was Charlie the Tuna. Oh wait, that's Chicken of the Sea, not Star of the Sea...Sorry Charlie! I knew Cod was a fish!

After the Cods rejected me, I soldiered on. Then this happened!

Bread!! I'm supposed to carbo-load when I exercise, right?

Thank the Cods and the Carbs that I'd about reached my destination. By this time, my pee pee was on fire. I think I have a blister. Guess that's why they make those tight little padded bike shorts. This sin Fwench woman is gonna get her some!

Made it!

Remember, it's not about the destination, it's about the journey not breaking anything on the way!

Later!

Hi Friends!

Let's talk about the bathroom at work...

See the deadbolt? It works much like the bathroom door on an airplane. You shut the door, flip the lock and the red "Occupied" sign shows on the outside of the door.  That's all well and good, unless you forget to flip the lock.

I've forgotten to flip the lock about 5 times since we moved into this building. The first time, one of my coworkers opened the door, I screamed and she said with a very sickened look on her face "Oh my God!" Awkward. The second time it happened, another coworker walked in on me. She was so nonplussed by it, I thought she was going to come in and wait until I was done.  Of course, I screamed like a little girl. I've had a few more occurrences where I just didn't realize that I forgot to flip the lock and it went unnoticed.  Today, as I was sitting there, I saw that I forgot to flip the lock and in a moment of panic, I jumped up, mid-stream, to lock the door.  I don't recommend this because it's as equally embarrassing. Jeans take a forever to dry!

I sent this to my BFF. I see this stuff on Facebook. I don't want you thinking I'm searching the Internets for this kind of crap to make me feel better when I'm all sad-sacky. I mean, really, how can he catch me wearing all those blankets? How can he hold me; he's dead. When I cry, I usually use my sleeve to wipe my tears or if I'm really sad, I let Jax lick them. I know, that seems odd, but it makes me feel better and she gets some electrolytes.  Oh, and I know for damn sure he didn't put me back together cause Dr. K did!

Anyway, I get a response from BFF that says:

When I puke...
HE HOLDS MY HAIR UP.

Later!

I got a wild hair up my ass...

And speaking of that wild hair...what's up with some of you menfolk (okay and some of you women folk) with the big bushy eyebrows, nose hair and ear hair? I get as part of getting old and stuff that it all grows bigger and faster, but geez!  For example, Nightly-News-Poppy and I were watching the news last night and they were interviewing Jeb.

Now, I don't know if it's cause we have the big screen and that HD junk, but damn, he's got some bushy (get it, bushy??) eyebrows and nose hair so long you could braid it. I know they make eyebrow thinners and nose hair clippers. I don't know why this bothers me so much, but it does.

Moving on...I-Like-Old-Shit-Poppy and I hit a couple of antique stores this weekend.  Meet Audrey-The-Goat. I love her!

Then I saw this:

A brood of Buddhas? A gaggle of garden Buddhas? A band of Buddhas? Anyway, I felt all spiritual when I walked buy them, but then it passed...just like gas.

I will leave you with this...

Chow.

Yeah, I suck...

I've not been writing as much as I've wanted too, but geez, I've been a little busy with this stupid collarbone thing...Cut me some slack, wouldja?

Speaking of, today is my one month anniversary since surgery. My healing is coming right along. That said, there is a wee bit of pain associated with this surgery. The doc put me on Oxycodone after the surgery, and here's where my story begins...I ran out of my happy-feel-good-pills this past Saturday. Given I have a slight issue with addiction, I thought I'd try to get off those everything-is-roses-and-sunshine pills.  I was doing okay until Monday when I left for work. By the time I got to work, I was in a world of hurt that the 4 Aleve I'd taken wasn't helping one little bit. So, I caved and sent my friend, David-The-Physician-Assistant an email to get more of my new BFF, Oxy. I know, I should have called, but I hate the phone. A few hours later I still hadn't heard anything from David-The-PA, so I emailed my regular doc. She emailed me right back and said to give David-The-PA a call.  Oh fine...

The thing I love about Kaiser, is that you can do just about anything with them online...except getting narcotics. To get those, you get the old-fashioned paper prescription and then take it to the pharmacy and wait...and wait...and wait. Kind of like when you were a kid waiting for Christmas morning, only different.

Okay, so first I have to solve the problem of getting myself to Kaiser cause I can't freakin drive! Luckily, Chauffeur-and-Schleper-Poppy drove Miss FrankenDaisy to work so she was able to give me a ride Kaiser. From there I'd have to find my way home by public transport...and that's a whole different story for some other time.

Anyway, she drops me off and as I'm walking in the big automatic doors of Kaiser, this Little-Turdlette-Overactive-Sticky-Snotty-Tasmanian-Devil-Thing decides he's going to run inside the doorway with me and try to jump up and touch the door jam, only he misses and body slams me right in my newly renovated collarbone. Well, it was more like my elbow, but it's all attached to the same thing. It hurt so bad I'm pretty sure I pee'd in my pants a little.

You know that look on a great white shark right before it goes in the for the kill...the one where the white cover goes over it's eyeballs and it rips the crap out of its prey? Yeah, that was me, only with a mouth like a longshoreman. I can't even remember what came out of my mouth. I know there were a bunch of  "F__K!s" and one "YOU LITTLE ASSHOLE". I guess it was loud enough for folks to stop dead in their tracks and look my way.

This little creep also had an older brother with him and what I assume to be his Hipster-Complacent-Baby-Talking-Parent-Magazine-Reading-Reverse-Psychology-Using-Fully-Manipulated-By-His-Little-Shit-Kids-Dad. Now I'm staring at the freakin Dad looking at him like WTF?? The guy looks at his evil offspring, points at his own arm and says "Be careful, she's in a..." and the little freak was long gone trying to mow down some poor unsuspecting blue-hair in a walker.

Here's the thing, after all the cautioning from David-The-PA on how I can't drive, I can't ride a bike, I can't pick my nose or even lift a coffee cup; how ironic would that have been if my collarbone got messed up by some rug-rat right at Kaiser? Whatever.

I get my scrip and I take it to the cattle call pharmacy. I stand in the "drop-off" line for 15 minutes...Have I mentioned how much pain I'm in since Malicious-Marvin bashed into me? Bastard.  Okay, so I go sit down and wait for my name to show up on the board.

Then out of the corner of my eyeball, I see this four-foot tall-whirling-blob-of-bad-seed come whizzing into the pharmacy raising all kinds of hell.

Here they are fingering all the vitamins:

The offender is in the yellow t-shirt. The other is his not-quite-as-off-the-charts-hyper-brother.

Here they are fingering all the gloves, masks and hand sanitizer:

Next thing I know, they've both started running up and down all the isles of chairs. It's like I'm watching this in slow motion...they're coming my way...if I can extend my foot in time...damn, I only clipped the little shit's shoe. He barely even stumbled. Sigh.

I started to think...what if I really had some good foot placement and he tripped? At his rate of speed and hardness of the floor or chair leg, he probably would have ended up on the floor convulsing with foam streaming out his mouth. Would I really care? Um, well...not even a little! Yep, I said that.

Did someone say Sausage!

Well, that was a fun weekend!

Went to see the BFF in Orangevale. We have such a good time.  She had tickets to the River Cats' game. Not just any tickets, but Legacy Club tickets so that meant we got to eat really good food and have excellent parking.  As luck would have it, since this is a Triple A Giants' affiliate team and Hunter Pence is rehabbing, he played.  I had no idea how tall he is!!

Talk about being up close and personal. I'm like a magnet for flying object to the head and we were directly in the line of fire! I screamed like a little girl...a lot.

Me and the bestie of 35 years!

I made open faced Fwench dip sandwiches.

Well, we really didn't dip and they weren't really fwench, but they were really good!  Why is it called a Fwench dip sandwich anyway? Well, I consulted with my Internets. It's Fwench because it's made with a baguette and the dip is Fwench cause it's au jus, which is Fwench for "with juice".  But here's the thing, the first sentence starts of with: "Fwench dip, an American cuisine".  I'm so confused.

Okay, let's get to the meat (or as we say in Fwance la viande) of this post.  If the baseball game wasn't highlight enough for the weekend, BFF and I got tattoos!

Here's the bestie's tat:

Cutest little guy ever...if you like the monkey, which I don't.

Okay, ready? Don't be frightened...there are reasons for why I do what I do...

Meet NegiMonster!

Here is my original drawing that Andrew-The-Tat-Artist used:

I know you want to know the significance of the Negi. One day I was in a really foul mood and decided to draw what I thought that looked like. I named it NegiMonster. Negi comes to visit me probably 20% of the time.  The significance of the green onion hair is that "negi" in Japanese means green onions (I'm pretty sure) and since Sushi-Poppy and I loves us some negihama rolls she thought it would be a great idea to make Negi's hair green onions instead. The circle/slash represents that I don't want to be Negi. So there, every time I look at Negi, I feel positive.  See, it's my own reverse psychology.

I guess that's all I got. Well...

Later gator!

Life's little observations...

Yesterday, I was riding to work and I see this gal carrying her yoga mat and rushing to her car. She tosses it in the backseat and quickly gets in the car.  Obviously, she's late for her yoga class. So, I wonder, since yoga is supposed to be a relaxing thing and stuff, why is this lady all frantic to get to the class so she can hurry up and relax?

The only time I ever...and I mean ever see a surfer running is so they can get in the water.

Why do folks on road bikes talk on the phone while riding?

While I was away from blogging, I took up what is now called "adult coloring". I had no idea that it was such a big deal. I read on my Internets that Amazon's top selling books are coloring books for adults.  Folks are even having coloring parties. I'm a trendsetter and I didn't even know it.

Here's my latest:

Not sure I'm liking the yellow. My Worst-Critic-Graphic-Designer-Poppy said I should use a color that won't take away from the actual picture. I don't think yellow was the right choice.  Whatever!

I figure I'd color while I was recuperating from the surgery, but I'm right-handed and I won't be able to color with my right hand. Figure I'll start coloring with my left. A little known fact, I was born ambidextrous and my parents had to pick a dominant hand so they picked the right. I might have made that all up, but I do have some memory of this. Hey, I'll teach myself to use my knives with my left hand too...when "Won't-Let-Me-Play-With-Knives-Poppy isn't around.

I was reading this article about the virtues of cooking in clay pots. http://craftsmanship.net/the-clay-mystique/ This article was given to me by my former bread making Sensei-John. He's helping Guru-Chad to design a clay pot for the home bread maker.  The point of this is this quote "Metal is an unusually intense conductor, which means that it absorbs heat’s energy fast, like a rambunctious teenager, and then releases it fast. Clay is the exact opposite. It’s an insulator, and insulators are like patient grandmothers. They gather the energy slowly – and release it just as slowly."  Where the heck did the author come up with that line? Me thinks Author-Todd is sexually frustrated!

Here are the girls...they're like a foot and a half from each other. We are making amazing progress.

Recall I hate the monkey, right?  Is this bad?

At least I'm creative...and I guess if there's a hell, I'm going there. Thing is, I keep this stuff in the top drawer of my desk. If I were to take the big sleep and one of my coworkers had to clean out my desk, I'm pretty sure they'd think I was a big fat weirdo. They'd think Poppy was even more of a big fat weirdo for being with me. I guess she could lie and say she had no idea I kept shit like this in my desk, right next to my DivaCup...but I know she'd be lying.

Chow, man!

Oh fine, I'll start writing again so get off my back!!

Let's see, what's new with me?

Well, most of you know about the "SCOOTER ACCIDENT OF 2014". It had been well publicized on social media. I mean, it didn't go viral or anything, but that was because I had issues with my branding. Whatever, I don't even know what "viral" is, other than they won't give you drugs for it.

Anyway, here's where we are...After about 8 months or so of having this crappy, gnawing pain in my shoulder and noticing that this wasn't healing like it did twenty years ago, I decided to go see the doc.  Okay, he's not really a doc, he's a physician's assistant. Not that I have anything against a PA. After all, I've worked with some kick-ass paralegals for like a quarter century and I've seen some really good work that they rarely got credit for.  Don't be thinking for a second that I'm all passive-aggressive on the BK, cause I'm not including her in that statement. The BK has even given bonuses for outstanding work.

All that said, in this instance and David-The-PA did say I was on the cusp of surgery, but really thought the collarbone would heal, but no such luck. So, my healing halted shortly after the SCOOTER ACCIDENT OF 2014 and here's what I'm left with:

Surgery is scheduled for May 19. I'll be down and in a sling for two weeks or so. For the surgery, Dr. K (I'm pretty sure he's a real surgeon) will be taking a little somethin somethin from another part of my body to fill in the gap. He'll straighten it all out and throw a titanium plate on it with three screws on each side. You know, I'm allergic to any metal that isn't gold.  I breakout in a huge rash. I wonder if I'll breakout in a rash inside my body? Guess we'll find out. The fun part is that I won't be able to do anything for the next nine months. No skateboarding, no trampolining, no NASCAR racing, no fun!

A word about the surgeon. When they set up a consultation with Dr. K, I went on Kaiser's website to read about the guy.  He seemed okay. When Patient-Advocate-Poppy and I showed up for the appointment, everything was fine and then the clock started ticking...fifteen minutes late, no big deal. Now it's a half-hour after my appointment and we're still sitting in the waiting room and I'm thinking they forgot me. I go up to the nice lady at the counter just to make sure.  Nope, Dr. K is running "just a little" late.  After an hour, we're still f-ing sitting there.  After a few more minutes, we finally get called in.  The nurse is very apologetic and I totally get it's not her fault.  But I'm fuming. She says "I apologize for Dr. K being late." I say "Well, my time is just as important as his, how about I show up an hour late to my next appointment, I'm sure that will be fine, right?" She laughed and said "Well, maybe 10 minutes late." Then basically tells me this Dr. K suffers from serial tardiness and this hour wait was the norm.  WTF?? Someone isn't making points with me and yet, I don't want to say anything cause I don't want him spitting inside my collarbone or leaving a sponge or something.

Serial-Tardy-Dr. K comes in and starts yacking at us.  I'm noticing that he's one of those closed-eye talkers. Like his eyes were closed more than they were open the whole time we were there. Now, I'm really not feeling good about this. Then he grabs his cell phone out of his pocket and says "I need to take this." and walks out of the room.  Again, WTF? Pissed-Patient-Advocate-Poppy and I just look at each other as if this can't really be happening. I mention to Poppy that I sure as hell hope this guy keeps his eyes open during surgery.  Anyway, the dude comes back after like 10 minutes. Blah, blah, blah. I spend the next week trying to find out when I get the stupid surgery.

Now the point of the whole story here is that for those of you that know me, know I'm not a very good patient and find it hard to sit still.  So, to make my recuperation more comfortable and to try to keep me immobile, here's what I bought:

Yep, that's a genuine Hanky Pinky Forever Lazy!! Note the matching headband that I happen to have from House of Air when I went trampolining before I didn't know my arm wasn't attached to my body. The best part is, not only can I zip up my arm inside, but there is a zipper in the back for ease of the tinkling.  Speaking of, we're in a drought...If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down, damn it!

What else?  Oh, we got a new addition to our little family.  Her name is Jill.  Here she is being the fearless huntress that she is.  She's hot on the trail of a fly!!

This one looks like she's looking to the heavens to see if the Gods will give her the goddamn fly!

She's blending in well but it's taking time for her to warm up to Baby-J. Baby-J does her best not to make eye contact.

Let's see...I started fermenting things.  I've made sauerkraut and pickles and I'm happy to report that nobody has died.  Now I'm making Kombucha. I love the stuff, but this shit is weird and needs babysitting. I sure hope it tastes better than it looks cause it looks like...well, I don't want to say other than it involves a productive cough.

So, that's the SCOBY.  SCOBY is an acronym for Symbiotic Colony Of Bacteria. Oh NOM! I've nicknamed it Scooby.  Makes me feel better to think about a cartoon character while consuming my bacteria.

That's all for now!