I rarely post pictures of myself on this blog, and when I do, I usually have my face obscured by a balaclava. Why? Because it's cold, that's why. But a little anonymity can't hurt. I was reminded of a good reason for this yesterday when a woman at work mentioned her happiness over the "good-looking" guy in our office returning from vacation.
As I'm sure you've noticed, I haven’t been away recently.
Yeah, it’s like that. I’m one of the guys who ranks somewhere between potted plants and comfortable desk chairs on the attractiveness scale.
How well do you think it would go over if I told an average-looking woman how pleased I was to see some hot babe return from vacation? A guy does that a couple of times, and next thing you know, he’s packing his office stuff into cardboard boxes and updating his resume.
Hey, I'm not complaining. I'm OK with my looks. I’m not on the market and I’ll be damned if I’d ever spend a dime on Rogaine or hair dye when there are important things to spend my money on. Like bike parts. Besides, the writing on the wall was pretty clear a few years ago when my friend (and then co-worker) Sue told me about an all-female drinking session at which women in the newsroom ranked their "top-10" male co-workers. The top 10. She itemized the list. My name never came up. Not even as a nomination. That'll keep a person's ego in check.
The bike blog world is about to lose one of its more popular directories. If you use the Bicycle Blogs page to find sites that are worth reading, you’d better bookmark your favorites while you still can, because gundog99 says it’s doomed unless somebody starts advertising on the site. I pick up a reader there from time to time so I’d like to see it stick around, but server space comes at a price.
I’ve never been much of a bike racer—due primarily to the simple fact that I’m slow as shit—but I always enjoy odd, inspired bike events that put fun first. Like the Frigid Bits series I’ve been writing about recently. Or the Malibu Hauling Ass Downhill Ride for cruiser and chopper bikes. Hell, if I lived in the Malibu area, I’d participate just because I like the name.
Oh, let’s be honest, if I lived there, I’d participate just because a sudden, violent death in a chopper crash might not seem like such a terrible alternative to life in that overcrowded SoCal madhouse. Maybe that’s why it’s only “recommended” that participants wear helmets.
As long as I'm on the subject of sudden death—and, really, how often does one get to type those words?—I'll keep taking my chances with brown bears and moose rather go for a warm swim in Australia and let a box jellyfish kill me.
"The pain is horrific; it's like being put into boiling oil."
I googled the species and found a site that says "You have virtually no chance of surviving the venomous sting, unless treated immediately. The pain is so excruciating and overwhelming that you would most likely go into shock and drown before reaching the shore."
I'll just stick to singletrack, thanks.