Pass the cheese.

Whats good? Damn, feels like just yesterday I was celebrating Christmas, and on vacation with the 'fam sippin on some eggnog, opening presents, hanging out in good 'ol Wiscahhhnsin, don't yah know. What happened to the past 3-4 months? Who knows... When I was in college it seemed like time just stood still, but out here in the wild it just flows on by. Days run into days, months to months, years to...well, you get the idea. But its all good, I'm enjoyin' this new life out of the protective bubble that is "JMU". Gotta keep reminding myself to keep pushing that envelope, stay out of the ruts, and live life. Speakin' of which, gotta go... Keep it rizzeal.


Good Song: Flaming Lips - The W.A.N.D

Mmmm, bikes.

There she is, right above people. The one, the only Gary Fisher Cake 1 dual-suspension two-wheeled wonder. She is HOT, and shortly she will be mine...counting down the minutes courtesy of the newly installed Countdown timer I added over to the riiiight. Impressed, huh? See, bike riding, spandex wearing, 20 something's can be nerds too. Its a beautiful thing. I know what you all may be saying, something like "But Andy, you already have plenty of bikes including a perfectly good mountain bike, right!?" WRONG. First off, it is common sense that one can never have enough bikes. Theres always one more you need to get...cyclocross, track, commuter. It doesn't matter, as long as its two wheeled and doesn't consume that Black Crude Mr. Cheney and his cronies want us to love...but, I digress. Second-ly, my current off-roaed goddess, as lovely as she is, is getting over the hill. Specifically, the front fork is completely blown and there is no hope in attempting to revive it, and I no longer appreciate the annoying brake-rub that accompanies my current hydraulic brakes. So, time for an upgrade! This sweet machine will be coming available, I'm told, in late March, and should be ready for ridin' a week or so later... just in time for a little adventure racing action, Xterra's, and of course THE TOUR DE BURG. Woo, gets me all flustered just thinking about it. Well, keep the rubber side down..


Good Song: Army Navy - Snakes of Hawaii

Neck Warmer

I'm headed to Chicago for a couple weeks, and was tricked into purchasing my first scarf. I've always been weary of these neck fashion items. Do they really keep your neck warm? What is the jacket zipper for anyways? Just to be sure, I made up some rules for me to remember and follow...


Heterosexual Male Scarf Wearing Rules to live by:

1. No scarf should be worn when the temperature is above 45 degrees
2. Scarves should always accompany a winter jacket, never alone.
3. Scarves will never exceed 4 different colors - 3 if one color is a pastel
4. No dangly tassle things on the end.
   
5. If it looks like a boa constrictor is around your neck, take it off.
6. Scarves should not be long enough to trip over.
7. No overly dramatic hand gestures while wearing a scarf.
8. No man bags, even when NOT wearing a scarf.
9. Carry masculine items in plane view at all times...like guns.
   

Good Song: Iron & Wine and Calexico - Burn that Broken Bed

Not much of a sunrise this morning... Got up to the sight of cloudy skies, only to be surprised when I walked out my door that it was raining, too. It then proceeded to change over to a messy mix of wetness and ice during my strides/skipping routine. Soooo cold, yet so satisfying. Nothing gets you feeling more in tune with nature than a cold, rainy, workout. I may be crazy, but I don't mind. Another workout in the bank. Enjoy the last gasps of winter.


Good Song: The Strokes - Heart in a Cage

Case of the Monday's

Its the worst day of the week so here's a little something to get it started off right:

Be Handsome. Be Attractive. And Don't Be Un-Attractive.

Good Song: Pinback - This Red Book

Wow.

And you thought YOU had bad luck...

Girl's prosthetic legs stolen for second time

Fri Feb 17, 2006 10:48 AM ET

By Aarthi Sivaraman

LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - For the second time in three months, a 16-year-old California girl who lost a leg in an accident has had her artificial limbs stolen.

Melissa Huff, an Arcadia High School student who uses a $16,000 prosthetic limb to play softball for the school team and another one, valued at $12,000, for everyday use, said both were taken from her bedroom Tuesday.

"I was picking up my little brother from school when my mom called me and asked where I left the two prosthetic legs," Huff, who lives in the Los Angeles suburb of Temple City, told Reuters in an interview.

"I knew right then that it had happened again."

Lisa Huff, her mother, said she came home around midday on Tuesday and found the room shared by Melissa and her older sister a mess. Only the prosthetic limbs were missing.

Police say they were talking to the girl's friends, neighbors and relatives for information about the missing legs.

In November, thieves broke into the Huff residence and took just her prosthetic limb. After that incident, Melissa's prosthetist and a local real estate company donated about $16,000 for a new limb.

The stolen limb was discovered in the teenager's backyard about a month ago, apparently thrown there by the thieves.

Melissa lost her real leg two years ago when a driver accidentally ran into her as she stood in front of her middle school.

She said she intends to get back on the field this week and just practice throwing until she gets another prosthetic limb.

Good Song: Matt Pond Pa - From Debris

The Bank

So, I played volleyball competitively back in my highschool days and was coached by a very interesting guy with a strong Type A personality. He hadn never played in college, or anywhere else really but for whatever reason took up coaching when he became a highschool teacher, and like most things in his life, completely devoted himself to being the best coach he could and as a result having an even better team to show for it. Since he started coaching my highschool team has been and still is one of the top performers in the state year in and year out. This coach made tall, lanky, uncoordinated teenagers into killing machines, and made it a mission to motivate them not just in volleyball but in life as well. It was amazing to see the progression from a pre-season practice to the final regular season game. Like night and day almost, if you'll pardon the cliche. I even credit him with getting me started into triathlons. Cool.

One of the many things I still keep with me from his many pep talks and motivational comments is related to keeping "a bank". This bank doesn't hold any kind of money. No, this is for hardships, tough times, or obstacles on the path leading up to achieving a goal. Say, for example, a 2 and half hour brick(bike and run) workout in 12 inches of snow...or for the times when you know noone else is this crazy about reaching an accomplishment, or when you know none of your competitors are out training in the current conditions, but you are and you're loving it. Its those times that go into the bank to hang out. You keep filling and filling that bank of tough times. Then come race day when the going gets tough, and you have to dig deep, or when it hurts beyond belief, and you find yourself wanting to give up right there on some unknown mile of a race course you reach into that bank, and pull out those workouts. You remember all those sacrifices to get to where you are, and all those banked workouts. You pull them out, and they push you to keep going, to go even faster than before. Because you know its all about the journey. Just put it in the bank.

Good Song: Arctic Monkeys - When the Sun Goes Down

Delicious Dish

For any kitchenly-challenged guys out there looking to make a nice dinner for their "sweetheart" on this V-Day, may I suggest this:

Pan Seared Salmon with Citrus Vinegar Glaze and Green Beans

4 (6 ounce) portions salmon fillets
Extra-virgin olive oil, for brushing fish
Salt and pepper
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoons orange juice, a splash
2 teaspoons lemon juice
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 pound green beans, trimmed
Orange slices or lemon rind

Preheat a cast iron pan or heavy bottomed skillet over medium high heat. Brush the salmon fillets with oil. Season with salt and pepper. Cook salmon until just cooked through, about 3 minutes on each side.

While salmon cooks, bring wine, vinegar, citrus juices and brown sugar to a boil over high heat. Reduce glaze 3 or 4 minutes, until thickened. Remove from heat. Stir in 1/2 teaspoon coarse black pepper.

In a second skillet, bring 1/2-inch water to a boil with green beans and pieces of orange and/or lemon rind. Cover the green beans and cook 3 or 4 minutes. Drain the beans and toss with a drizzle of oil (optional) and season with salt and pepper.

Drizzle glaze over salmon fillets and serve with citrus green beans.

Its good. Its easy. Do it.

P.S. Lloyd Dobbler is the man. Never forget that. Or his boombox. Or the 80's!!


Good Song: The Strokes - You Only Live Once

It's SNOWWWWING!

Finally, the first major snow storm since I moved to Arlington/D.C. Looks like we got around 12 inches, give or take in some spots. The white stuff was just BEGGING to be ridden, and I didn't disappoint! Some of the most tough, and tricky fun you can have on two wheels...AND it doesn't cost a cent. Sweeeet.

Good Song: The Pale Pacific - Tribute to Billy Joel (a.k.a. Movin' Out)

Sweet Tart Hearts

Love may not make the world go round, but I must admit that it makes the ride worthwhile.
-Sean Connery

Enjoy the V-day weekend, everyone!

Peace yo, I'm outtttt! But first a funny pig-headed joke, weeeee! :

Recently a "Husband Super Store" opened where women could go to choose a
husband from among many men. It was laid out in five floors, with the men increasing in positive
attributes as you ascended. The only rule was, once you opened the door to any floor, you HAD to choose a man from that floor; if you went up a floor, you couldn't go back down except to leave the place, never to return. A couple of girlfriends went to the shopping centre to find some husbands...

First floor
The door had a sign saying, "These men have jobs and love kids." The women
read the sign and said, "Well, that's better than not having a job or not
loving kids, but I wonder what's further up?" So up they went.
Second floor
The sign read, "These men have high paying jobs, love kids, and are
extremely good looking." "Hmmm," said the ladies, "But, I wonder what's
further up?"
Third floor
This sign read, "These men have high paying jobs, are extremely good
looking, love kids and help with the housework." "Wow," said the women,
"Very tempting." But there was another floor, so further up theywent.
Fourth floor
This door had a sign saying "These men have high paying jobs, love kids,
are extremely good looking, help with the housework and have a strong
romantic streak." "Oh, mercy me," they cried, "Just think what must be
awaiting us further on! So up to the fifth floor they went.
Fifth floor
The sign on that door said, "This floor is empty and exists only to prove
that women are f**king impossible to please. The exit is to your left, we
hope you fall down the stairs."

Good Song: Belle and Sebastian - White Collar Boy

Hole-y

Everyone has an object of their affection. A blanket, a picture, a car, a pet...hell, a person even. For me, a pair of cycling shorts. More specifically my favorite red Hammer Gel bibs. We have been through alot together. We have ridden to the tops of mountains, suffered through rain storms, dealt with sub-freezing temperatures, bonked in the middle of nowhere. Many hardships, many adventures, and many great times. These shorts no longer resemble what they were when they first came out of that FedEx package. No, now there are blood stains, mud stains, grass stains, and multiple holes in some not so nice places. Each marking a mistake I made along the way while we were together. From over cooking a left turn...a hole on the left hip. Not clearing a fallen log...a faded blood stain on the lower right panel. Letting a crazy puppy get too close...a crotch hole from its claws (that one hurt), and many others that I can no longer put my finger on. But at the end of the day those shorts were still there ready to give it a go tomorrow, because even through the mistakes were the amazing times and the possibility for even greater times another day. I was always there for those bibs, and the bibs were always there for me, to protect me if I was to make another stupid mistake. But those days are over, the shorts finally gave in...of course, they never said it straight to my face but they don't have to, I could see it. Just one too many mistakes went in to them, and they could no longer go on...let alone stay in one piece. It's tought to do, give up something you love so much, something you've had so many great experiences with. But those holes need to be repaired, the stains bleached, and the crotch not so damn drafty while still keeping those good memories alive. Maybe I'll ride with those Hammer Gel shorts again, someday...I miss 'em already.


Good Song: Ben Folds - Landed

Brokeback... To the Future?


Good Song: Elliott Smith - Somebody that I Used to Know

Hiatus for a bit.

(in)Famous?

On Brooklyn Streets,
Shopping Carts Roll
In a Renegade Derby

Teams Dodge Potholes, Police
In Race to Manhattan;
Cobra's Bag of Dirty Tricks
By JOE BARRETT
Staff Reporter of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL February 2, 2006; Page A1

BROOKLYN, N.Y. -- Tom Grise and his team had high hopes for their shopping cart. They attached 10-foot metal bars to make it easier to pull and placed a scary plastic skull on the front. They girded it in cardboard, painted to look like a mining cart. The five members of the team decked themselves out in Indiana Jones costumes.

When they crested the hill of Brooklyn's Fort Greene Park last Saturday afternoon, they realized what they were up against: nearly 200 rival teams including a group of 7-foot bananas and a barrel full of naughty monkeys. Vampires escorted a bat with a 12-foot wingspan. An Old West saloon featured cowboys, a busty barkeep and a working keg of beer. A team from the "Mayo Clinic," dressed as doctors, smothered themselves in mayonnaise.

Mr. Grise, a 25-year-old engineering consultant, had arrived at the starting point of the third annual Idiotarod, New York's answer to Alaska's Iditarod race, with shopping carts taking the place of sleds and human beings taking the place of dogs. Instead of more than 1,000 miles of snow-covered back country, the course features about four miles of snarling traffic, crowded sidewalks, nasty potholes, stern police and a chaotic crossing of the Manhattan Bridge in which entrants sabotage one another with body checks. They also throw fruit.

Shopping-cart races are popping up in cities around the country, offering an outlet for on-the-edge creativity and urban anarchy. San Francisco will hold its 12th "Urban Iditarod" on March 4, the starting date for the real Iditarod race from Anchorage to Nome. Racers will leave downtown San Francisco and go a little beyond Fisherman's Wharf, about three miles away. Portland, Ore., and Ann Arbor, Mich., have similar events.


Members of the Cobra team push their cart through the streets of Manhattan.


Jeff Stark, a 33-year-old film-production worker and handyman, and Maureen Flaherty, 31, a buyer for a maker of recycled glass and concrete countertops, were looking for something fun to do at the end of a dreary January. The Brooklyn roommates are part of a loosely knit community drawn to the borough for its somewhat cheaper rents and low-budget, participatory art scene. They decided to steal the idea from the San Francisco event and import it to New York, redubbing it the Idiotarod.

"Art is one of the reasons that people will accept for doing things in New York," Mr. Stark says. "You can get away with all kinds of creative high jinks."

They promoted the event on the Web and through Nonsense NYC, an email list Mr. Stark runs highlighting "independent art" and "strange happenings." The first year drew about 150 runners pushing 30 carts. The second year, 600 runners showed up and about 1,000 turned out this year, according to Mr. Stark.

Like their counterparts in San Francisco, the New York organizers had no interest in going through official channels and getting permits to close off streets along the route. Concerned that police were onto the published starting point in an industrial section of the Williamsburg neighborhood, organizers called participants the morning of the race and told them to assemble at the top of Fort Greene Park, a steeply sloping spot with a view of the Manhattan skyline.

Racers didn't even know where they were headed. They were given one checkpoint at a time and were free to chart their own course.

Luke Stiles, 32, a Brooklyn software engineer at MTV, says his team, "Double Down -- Red Squad," acquired their cart from a store parking lot the night before the race. The morning of the event, they stenciled some white T-shirts with the logo from Mr. Stiles's bicycle-racing team. Red bandanas completed their outfits. Short a fifth person, they recruited a friend's girlfriend at the starting line.

Richard Garcia, a 38-year-old carpenter, spent six weekends building a cart with a cobra theme in his Jersey City, N.J., basement. With his girlfriend, Anne Silvernail, a 25-year-old sculptor and member of the Brooklyn Bombshells roller-derby team, Mr. Garcia enclosed the cart in plywood and installed a battery and a propane tank. The finished product had working headlights, a hot-rod paint job and a sculpted 6-foot-high, fire-breathing snake head.

The couple got swept into the race last summer by Oscar Owens, a 31-year-old Brooklyn music producer. He heads a 40-person "team of teams" called Cobra, or Carts of Brooklyn Racing Association. The group had five teams in the race, including Mr. Garcia's and one with "anyone who admitted to having run before," Mr. Owens says. An additional 15 team members with no carts at all were on hand simply to disrupt the other racers. Says Mr. Owens: "Our goal was a clean sweep."

At 2:30, small explosions and a rain of confetti marked the start of the race. Contestants picked up their carts and scrambled down several sets of steps before descending on the city -- taking over sidewalks on both sides of the street and dodging cars to cross.

It took only minutes for a passing patrol car to notice something amiss.
Their lights flashing, police cars shadowed the racers for much of the day.

A few blocks short of the first checkpoint, Cobra laid a trap. Team members had set up a folding table with a sign that said "CHECKPOINT."
Runners scrambled to hand the bogus officials their paperwork, seeking a stamp to show they'd completed that leg of the race, Mr. Owens says.
Many of them didn't get the forms back, he says.

At the real checkpoint, Mr. Garcia says he tried to send flames out of the cobra's mouth, but the bumpy ride had jarred loose some wires.

Leaving the checkpoint, contestants ran a gantlet of hurled bananas, maple syrup, ketchup and other goopy stuff. "We got pelted with everything," Mr. Garcia says. "Eggs, whole fish, pudding, Silly String.
I couldn't stand the smell of myself."

The tight quarters on the Manhattan Bridge walkway set up a free-for-all of cart bashing, shoving and other mischief. "It was the closest thing to 'Mad Max' I've ever experienced," says Mr. Grise, the Indiana Jones team leader.


Temple of Zoom: Maggie Grise, Lars Russell, Tom Grise, Jason Lee and Adam Duerson (left to right) at the finish line of Saturday's Idiotarod, with their Indiana Jones-themed shopping cart.


Mr. Stiles's team fell victim to a well-worn Idiotarod trick: Someone cut the ropes they used to pull the cart.

Police were waiting on the Manhattan side of the bridge, urging participants to slow down for a tight turn and handing out citations for drinking in public. The police "couldn't have been nicer about it," said one recipient, who said it carried a $25 fine.

Police later said the race caused only minor problems. "Police officers were called to marshal traffic and pedestrians," said Detective Bernard Gifford. The group really should get a street-closing permit for future races, he said.

Mr. Stiles's Double Down team picked up speed after the bridge. One of his fellow teammates knew Chinatown and the Lower East Side well, and the team reached the second checkpoint in first place.

The race ended in East River Park, just across from Brooklyn, where it all had begun. The first team to cross the finish line, "Scout Troop 666," a bunch of guys in scout uniforms, was disqualified because it hadn't stopped at any of the checkpoints, Mr. Stark says. The team did pick up a prize for best-in-sabotage. The second team to finish, "Hawaii Five-0," was penalized for being rude to the judges at one of the rest stops, he says.

That left Mr. Stiles and the Double Down squad, who crossed the finish line third, to take the first place prize by default, winning $500.

After walking the last leg of the race with all 25 of the Cobra team racers and crossing the finish line in style, Mr. Garcia finally succeeded in letting loose with a 3-foot-long blast of flames for the judges. The Cobra team was rewarded with the $500 best-in-show prize and the honor of organizing the event next year.

Photo Fun

"Uhhhh, please don't arrest us."

Thought of the Day

If we deny love that is given to us, if we refuse to give love because we fear pain or loss, then our lives will be empty, our loss greater.

-Anonymous

Good Song: Keane - She Has No Time