For Crying Out Loud Dammit

"I Rant, Therfore I Am." A glimpse at life's small annoyances that really bug the daylights out of me. (Maybe you too)?

Friday, September 28

For Crying Out Loud...Where Did Summer Go?!

Dang! It's been awhile. I'll be surprised if any of you out there even stop by anymore. Well, I feel like there was no summer despite the fact several motorcycle trips (weekend and week long) occured and I got some fishing in. (Salmon season is in full swing right now. Caught two so far. Mmmm, mmm, mmmm....tasty)!

So, I've been busy to with my business. Started a store offering motorcycle gear for kids. Street style gear; not MX. It's a niche market but a growing one. I go to motorcycle rallies and set up a booth. Sell things like leather jackets, waterproof pants, etc. All constructed with the notion that they'll be worn by kids riding with a grown-up on the highways. (That means they're designed for function over fashion; although they are fashionable)! I have given a jacket to each of the little Rusty's and in exchange I get to shamelessly exploit their cuteness in advertising. They're cool with it.

Peace out and enjoy fall!

Wednesday, July 18

What Kind of Family Is That?!

Here in the Northwest a great number of Native American tribes own/operate casinos. Radio stations run ad spots for the various casinos and there are billboards along the highway and even on buses.

One sign that appears on a great number of buses pictures a balding, middle-aged man who is smiling and saying: "QCC treats me just like family." (QCC stands for Quil Ceda Casino)

What kind of friggin' family do you belong to that a gambling casino reminds you of them? Cousin Earl gets me drunk so Aunt Edith can steal from me. Brother Bob extorts me. They're good folks though. They let me hang out with them and sometimes even give me a dollar or two to buy stuff. I love my family!

Hellllooooo!? WTF are you people thinkin'?

Monday, July 16

I am Man...hear me roar!

Well, weather has been good and that means weekends have been busy. Two weekends ago the Dam Tour riders had a picnic at a campground about 4 hrs away. So, we rented a camper and headed off. (The little Misses rode her bike and I drove the family mobile with camper in tow).

This weekend we found ourselves visiting friends sans kids. Nice break. Having a set of g'parents nearby is a blessing.

So, ya'll may have heard the back seat of a motorcycle referred to as the "beeeyotch" seat. Not a flattering term and one we don't use but jokingly in our home. Anyway, I'm aware of the stereotype that a dude shouldn't ever ride back there; except in a valid and verifiable emergency. Even read an editorial / article addressing the topic in a popular motorcycle magazine not long ago.

However, I am not one that feels one's masculinity is determined by where one rides on a motorcycle...or so I thought. In fact, I even replied to the editor of the article in the magazine stating that I often ride on the back of my wife's scoot. I then challenged the author to contradict my manliness but only after I informed him that I've been a SWAT team member, am retired military, have led an anti-terrorist team, etc. (I've yet to hear back from him). In fact, I said, riding on the back of a woman's motorcycle is a great way for a guy to cop a feel. (hee hee.)

All my haughtiness and pride about how I was a liberated, modern man who was secure in his manhood and could ride on the back of his wife's bike without psychological issue (damaged ego) ended abrubtly at approx. 1900 hours (PST) on 14 July 2007.

We were heading home from visiting our friends (remember I mentioned this above...we were sans kids). My bike was in the shop for service and we rode my wife's to our friends' house Friday eve. Nice ride. No worries. Stopped to eat along the way. Very pleasant. Saturday, the 14th, was equally pleasant. Good weather. Fabulous visit. Then we began our trek home. Again, I was riding passenger and kind of enjoying just being able to sit back and relax and watch the scenery go by. I even "moooed" at some cows as we passed a field full of bovine. (I can never resist that urge).

Anyway, we approached the ferry dock. It was about 7 pm. Motorcycles get head of line and board first on the ferry boats. Since the ferry wasn't scheduled to leave until 7:15 we'd have to wait a few minutes. The toll was paid and we were directed to the staging area. This is when my ego crashed. As we approached, I saw about a dozen bikes. Big Harleys most of them. Big, burly dudes riding those big Harleys. Rough looking characters too. A few had their biker chicks riding passenger (I refrain from calling it the nasty term out of respect for ladies).

My wife rides up and parks right in the center of the group. Heads turn. My balls have just been lopped off, put in a jar and are sitting on a shelf. Here I am wearing a Harley jacket sitting on the back of a Yamaha that's being piloted by a woman. One taboo after another. No one said anything. And I'm sure all my angst is for not and just my own crazy imagination.

Plus, my wife defended me (and my ego) whenever the topic came up. She would quickly point out that we both ride and that my bike was in the shop. The few who we struck up conversation with would approving nod and say, "ohhhh. what's it in the shop for?" (Like, why or how does that matter). Anyway, my wife is awesome! She knew I was taking it a bit hard so when we got home, she helped restore some of my perceived lost manliness: she asked me to open a pickle jar and squish a bug.

Arrr, arrr, arrr! (beating on chest). I am MAN!!!!

Wednesday, June 27

A Day Late

The answer to the question is A or C; but most preferably C (the farthest from the door). Here's why it's NOT B...

B is the middle urinal and that would force the next guy who comes in to be standing right next to you. Unless all urinals are occupied, no dude likes to be peeing immediately beside another guy. Taking C permits the next guy coming in to take A thereby leaving B unoccupied and thus creating "space."

Why is it this way? Dunno. Just is. And, any guy who takes the middle instead of the open ones on the end may have some gazing issues or other problems. Wonder about that dude!

Monday, June 25

Pop Quiz: Unspoken Man Rules

(Since most my readers are female; you'll have to use your imagination)

You enter a restroom to pee. Three urinals hang on the wall. No one else occupys the restroom. Which urinal do you use: A) The one on the left; B) The one in the middle; or C) The one on the right?

And why did you choose that one OR why not the others?

Answer to this unspoken man rule revealed tomorrow!

Monday, June 18

Pickle out of Place

I was riding the bus home the week before we went on vacation. I'm a daily commuter. It's a 90 minute ride. Most of the time I listen to tunes and read a magazine or nap. Then, on other occassions, I look out the window and watch the cars & scenery go by. So, this one day I spy a early 90's Chevy station wagon. White. Boxish in shape. In the back compartment is a mattress with a blanket on it. It's neatly made up. As traffic slogs on, and the bus continues to pass the station wagon, I glimpse the driver and, more specifically, the front seat / dashboard area. The driver is a woman of middle age. No make up. Long straight, brown hair. Plain really. But what really catches my attention is that sitting on the very flat dash, right in front of the steering wheel, is a pickle. Yup. A pickle. Not a decoration. Not a dash ornament; but an actual pickle...a big fat (I assume dill) pickle with a bite out of it. (Forward of it, nestled in the defrost vent were a pair of sunglasses).
Who does this? How does a pickle find it's way onto one's dash? I haven't, nor has anyone I know, ever been driving down the road and say to myself, "Mmmmm, I'm hungry. Know what would be tasty right about now? A pickle. Oh look, I just happen to have one right here in my pocket!" CRUNCH! "Yummy." "Oops, don't look now, traffic ahead. Gotta get both hands on the wheel. Hmmm? Uh, what do I do with my pickle? Oh, I know...I'll set it here on the dusty ol' dashboard and eat it later."

So, in the spirit of this I'm going to start a thing I call "Pickle Out of Place." I'm going to buy a pickle. I'm going to take a bite out of it. Then, I'm going to take it places and photograph it. Eiffel Tower...why not. Grand Canyon...sure. I may even put google eyes on it and a mini motorcycle helmet and take it for a ride.

Suggestions for locations to take the pickle (I love saying that...pickle) are welcome.

Now, for more vacation pics.

Things eating ice cream at the rally in Baker City, OR

The rescue squad, bringing gas to me as I ran out just 5 miles from the station.

Goofing off in Toppenish, WA. They have 70 large scale murals painted on buildings throughout the little town.

Looking down over the Columbia River. Oregon on the left and Washington on the right.

Friday, June 15

Vacation Complete

Eh, I've been back to work for two days and I HATE it. I so need a job that is a hobby; or a hobby that can be a good paying job.

Vacation was fabulous...6 days of riding, riding, riding. Weather was sketchy at the onset but after cresting the mountain, it opened up to clear skies and warm temps. Perfect!

That's it for now. Just a taste...more to come. But, it's late now and I want to watch a movie with the wifey!