Let me whisper sweet nothings in your ear...

As in, I'm doing sweet nothing today.

I may have the best boss ever created by man. Thus, I am on vacation today. Short story...not that important.

Anyway, things of observation...

Remember that recipe I made with arborio rice and (GAG) tarragon? Well I still have the rice sitting in my pantry so I experimented a little last night. Chicken stock instead of water. A little butter. The rice. Follow the directions on the rice package. A little lemon juice and the only thing missing from my favorite Greek lemon-rice soup is well...soup. Sprinkle some Parmesan on it and delish! I used all chicken stock, which made it a little salty. You could probably ratio water and chicken stock for less salt. Tarragon, leave this home and be gone from my sight!

***

I'm still in bed, watching "Buffy, the Vampire Slayer" episodes on dvd, and this particular episode revolves around the school talent show. Which just reminded me of this skit I did in a talent show at our grade school with a then best friend of mine. We did that old phantom arms thing with a makeup demonstration. Kristie stood in front and spoke to the audience while she held her hands behind and I applied her makeup with my own arms...pretending they were her arms. Get it? If I remember it right, we got some good laughs. All right, this is how I remember it. We ROCKED. In my head.

In junior high and high school we started hanging out with decidedly different groups and eventually we drifted apart. Then, back in 2002, my mom noticed an article in the local Illinois newspaper. Not sure how I feel about it. I had forgotten about it until I was just watching this Buffy episode. I recall when I first read about it, how I really didn't have much reaction to it then either. Which makes me think I'm damaged or something. It was something of a "Meh" reaction. RIP, Kristie. I miss our friendship, brief though it was.

***

I've started reading Dispatches by Michael Herr. I think he's the guy who wrote the screenplays for "Full Metal Jacket" and "Apocalypse Now." He writes as a war correspondent while in Vietnam. You can tell in the writing. The point of view speaks volumes of a man exposed to horrors no one should ever see, and written by someone with a decided "dialect" of the 60's. All he left out is "man" after every sentence.

BTW, any guesses on why "Apocalypse Now" would be perpetually unavailable on Netflix? I still have yet to see the movie in its entirety.

***

I had a lovely list of things to do today: clean the house, whittle down the pile of excess belongings in my possession, clean the bike in prepration for bringing it in the house for the winter. In the immortal words of Dana Carvey as George Bush, "Not gonna do it." Shortly, I'll be moving into "Command Central (where we keep the BIG computers)" and playing video games till my butt falls asleep. Shower be damned!

Miss Crankypants

I went with Fahjah for the monthly Sam's Club run to pick up paper towels and poo tickets in bulk the other day. I also purchased chocolate in bulk, and while eating my weight in flavored chocolates typically will soothe my winter ravaged soul, this time it's not working...the cold weather is settling in...my S.A.D. is kicking into high gear, and I've started stocking the fridge with Beamish and the bathroom with Nyquil.

No more Stretchy Pants Sunday (strutting our stuff from garage to front door clad in black, snug Underarmor). No more watching MN mow our lawn...MN. No more using cars as moving pylons. No more sweet, sweet beach cruiser. No more hammock in the three-season porch.

Only things we'll have for the next half a year (whimper)? Beer, bonfires, fluffy white snow, chili (with beans, of course...ammo) and flannel sheets. And the crankiest of residents at La Casa de Gasa. I'm escaping for a week in Tampa as soon as the New Year hits. Once I let her know, I'm sure my mom will be excitedly planning to do all my favorite things as soon as I get off the plane...Go to a Florida Wal-Mart, grocery shopping, bicycle 50 miles on the bike trail, check the mailbox for snakes, etc. I'm hoping if I show up at her house with a case of her favorite Leinie's (and bulk chocolate (Dove, Momma)), I might get off easy.

After my first hardcore season of motorcycling, I'm looking forward to winter this year with all the joy and silliness of a Silkwood shower.

...But I'd STILL rather live here than in Florida. We Cheeseheads may be a more weather-worn, hardy people, but at least we're laid back and delightfully redneck. Worst thing that happens here is somebody lights his friend's balls on fire.

Netflix-a-go-go

Anybody want a free month trial of Netflix? Email me your address and I'll forward the freebie to you. Enjoy!

Come on....really?

I have a moment to relax here at work and I went poking around on MSN. Scanning the page, I see this link, Britons jailed, fined for having sex on Dubai beach. I never looked at the article...don't really care enough, but immediately I think to myself, "What? British people have sex?? Together??"

Too much of a good thing...

I've ridden the Freaky Tiki approximately 7,000-8,000 miles this season. By contrast, I think I've put maybe 1,000 miles on my Saturn Sedanmobile. Keep this in mind as you read on.

Today, I took my car. When I left work, my car was running on fumes. I arrived safely at the gas station just off the bypass on the way home. I pull up to the pump, and get out. Somebody thinks they're funny and put my gas hole (yes, gas hole) on the opposite side of my car from the pump. I get back in and move the car correctly into position and get out. Ha ha.

Also, I hope my car runs as good on Premium as my bike does. "Why the hell is gas $3.14?? Somebody just told me it's under 3 bucks! ....oh." Damn.

It's White Trash...but it's EXPENSIVE White Trash

I'm about halfway through Such a Pretty Fat by Jen Lancaster. I'm not quite cruising through it as fast as her other two books, but it's still a good, decadent read. I am an avid reader of her blog, Jennsylvania, as well. Today's post...laughed my ass off. I'm telling you, Jen and I were once one person, split into two separate and completely opposite halves, likely in an experiment gone awry. She is light. I am dark. She is fashionista. I am tomboy. She just doesn't know it yet.

And I sound like a stalker.

Swell.

http://www.jennsylvania.com/jennsylvania/2008/10/great-moments-i.html

Dahhhh....uhh....

"How does it happen that people stray from social instances and play with packing lists? Who are we to fly in the face of turmoil and dirt? There must be something more than this shape-based pricing."

Huh. That was interesting. I thought I'd start a new post, but suddenly had forgotten what I was going to write about. The sentence above was me just typing the very first words that popped into my head, and when I'd be at a loss, I looked around my immediate area for words to drop in (packing lists, shape-based pricing).

Try it! Post a comment of your senseless sentences. I want to see what your brain comes up with (still can't remember my original topic...).

Zzzzz...

It's 4:30 am. I've been awake since 2:30 am. I'm blaming the entire pot of tea I drank at Border's the night before for the insomnia. But since I laid in bed for two hours, staring at the ceiling thinking about things that do me no good, earning a paycheck seemed more productive. Hence I am at work now before even the Army gets anything done.

BTW, don't try to read a Jen Lancaster book in order to go back to sleep. It doesn't work. Too amusing. I should have picked up Whitman or The Selfish Gene. I can't get through those two books more than a page's worth before I'm out. I'm reading Lancaster's Bitter is the New Black. Since Trish and I spent four hours in a bookstore when she was VERY pregnant and the two of us nearly completely read through Lancaster's entire Bright Lights, Big Ass, I decided last night at Border's that it was time to read her other two books. Bitter highlights Lancaster's fall from Prada and Trader Joe's to Target and Jewel. I'm not too far in yet, but she's so snotty at the beginning of the book, I can barely stand to read it (good thing I know she's hilarious), and wish to slap her. Up until the part where she goes into the salon to get her hair colored and, it turns out, I'd rather slap the vacuous "girl behind the counter" that they have propped up at the computer. I heart Jen. I'm glad to see I'm not so out of touch with fashion that I don't recognize things like Lacoste, dupioni, cashmere, grosgrain, Neiman, and Michigan Avenue, so I can follow right along with her obsession with the finer things (though financially nutso in my eyes).

***

The sucky part is it's 52 out right now (heat wave!) though rainy, and I've been itching to get back on the bike after a week of car-driving. Since I can't tell when the insomnia will run out, four wheels seemed more prudent than two; even though motorcycling is what refreshes and enlivens me. No club ride yesterday because, of course, it had to start raining 20 minutes before I would've left the house...and then was rainy and cold the remainder of the day.

My brother installed hand warmers under his grips on his R6 this weekend, and of course, after making me test-drive them, now I need them. If my hands are warm, there's no stopping me.

Anyway, I give me about till sunrise before I'm sleeping on the keyboard. Good thing the keys are flat...

Because you just can't get enough...

You can receive email alerts to let you know when I've got a new post!

Email Alerts for Kuj's Pipeline

Search terms: kujspipeline
Hopefully, that will narrow it down to just my blog, but you might see links to others.
Type: blogs
How often: as-it-happens
Then type in your email address.

It should work...if not let me know. This way, I can stop getting questions from my dad and my brother asking me what my blog address is. :)

Random Weirdness

Waiting at a stoplight yesterday afternoon, I watched a flock of small birds, maybe 30 or so, wheeling around in the sky over some trees. They'd swoop back and forth like one, in a big circle shaped group, all of them making the same sharp turns at the exact same time, but never seeming to be in any danger of colliding into one another.

My brain --> How are they doing that? I bet it's bird "Simon Says." Or it's a bird air show. They're the precision flying team, the Blue Swallows. Oops. Green light.

***

Riding to work this morning, I look at the same deer crossing sign I pass every day. And I'm thinking back to a video an acquaintance of mine sent to me. It was video footage from a police car at night, emergency lights on and speeding on a two lane highway in the middle of nowhere. A big deer suddenly appears in the headlights on the left side of the road. Almost as soon as the headlights illuminate this deer, it decides to run out in front of the cop car. And literally explodes as it's hit by the cow catcher on the front of the car. Chunks of guts smear up the windshield. Totally barf-worthy.

My brain --> Are deer really that stupid? That can't be the case. Maybe they can't see right. Is it depth perception? They've only got one eye on each side of their heads. You need both eyes focusing on the same point to have depth perception...right? So if the deer stands perpendicular to the road, it can't tell how far away a car is right? If you cover one eye while you're driving, it affects how you see...maybe it's the same with deer.

***

Saw this in a catalog today, and thought it was just the most fun and quirky chandelier I've ever seen.

....how long is it going to be before I start wearing muu-muus, live with multiple cats and share their food?

Sweet Sweet Jeebus, what have I gotten into? Or, Kuj Armstrong and the Tour De Pants

Thanks for that title, Momma. When this blog makes me rich, I'm hiring you as Executive Tag-Line Creation Specialist.

Back on Saturday, August 20, I started out with a serious weekend plan. No showers, all gaming. As I wandered sleepily out to the three-season porch to dine on a bowl of cereal on Saturday morning, Mostly Naked was already out there. He asked, "Want to enter a bicycle race with me today?"

I'm stupid sometimes. I realize this. In fact I know I heard my brain stabbing itself and screaming, "NO! You are NOT going to say 'Sure'!"

"Sure!"

What? A bicycle race? Like, without engines? Me? Fatty McTubb? Pft. Good lord, the last time I actually rode a bicycle--before I just recently purchased my completely and utterly bitchin' beach cruiser--was, I think, when Reagan was President. I had tried here and there with a ten-speed that made sitting extremely uncomfortable days after (ew, yes, I know) and one time on one of my brother's old bikes...I would've gotten farther on a pogo stick. And pogo sticks likely bounce less than that bike did.

I repeat this time and again to people; I am built for comfort, not speed. At least as far as exercise is concerned. Or it's a thinly veiled way of saying I'd rather hack off my own fingers with a rusty spoon than participate in any aerobic exercise. I check my blood pressure occasionally. It's always disturbingly low, therefore, sweating, cramped lungs and knee pain, in my opinion, are nowhere NEAR chocolate and naps on the Pros side of the list of life.

I started attending a yoga class back in October last year and, for the most part, I've been going once a week, every week since then. I've never claimed that the one-hour-a-week exercise has helped me lose weight. Maybe it has. If nothing else, between yoga and what I do at work, I've improved somewhat in metabolism and muscle tone. I tend to believe, though, that it might be the bacon-and-bulimia program I've put myself on.

I'm kidding. I hardly ever eat bacon.

Kidding again. I actually just pay better attention to my eating habits. Smaller portions, less eating in general. Don't eat till you're stuffed. Stop earlier than you think you should and see if you're still hungry in a little while. Now, those of you who know me, don't start thinking that I've altered my lifestyle and eat healthy. Well..ramen is organic, right? I still eat junk food and processed food, and products made with white flour, and ice cream (love ice cream). I love chicken ramen, I occasionally go for McDonald's Surf-N-Turf, I love butter. And meat. I just don't eat as much of it. And damnit, if you want the ice cream, just eat the ice cream...don't eat a meal first out of guilt! That's me.

Now...am I a health nut? Hell no. Am I on a celebrity diet? Puh-lease. Am I keeping track of points? Good Lord no. But I've still managed to dump 10 pounds and they've stayed dumped for a number of months now. So when I die of cancer from the processed foodstuffs, I die thinner! I call that victory.

I've recently switched from a total yoga class to a Pilates/yoga combo class. Again, once a week for an hour. My guts start to hurt about a day and a half later and pain me for a couple of days after that. But something weird has happened. I guess I felt I was ready for more of a "challenge." I grumble about the dominatrix who runs the class (whom I absolutely adore, btw), but very nearly beg to be tortured more. Suddenly the pain is good. I don't get it. I think I might be broken...

***

Seriously...did I just say "Sure" to Mostly Naked? Holy cats, I think I did. So I go shower (pft, there goes THAT plan), throw on a pair of capris and a t-shirt (Triumph tee, of course...even when I'm not motorcycling, I'm motorcycling), and gym shoes. I have a kick-ass water bottle that Brother custom-painted, but no bottle holder on the cruiser. I throw a canvas bag over my shoulder and drop the bottle in the bag. I'm ready darn it...let's do this.

...Aaaaaannd, Mostly Naked is wearing bicycle shorts (they look like normal shorts (thank God), but have that thick butt pad in them), a bicycle helmet, clip-in binding shoes and he's riding a lightweight mountain bike with disc brakes and suspension. My bike has a springer front end (that's squeaky) and springs under the big-ass seat. My cruiser has to weigh something in neighborhood of 10 pounds more than Mostly Naked's floaty sport utility vehicle.

Any bets on whether I get through the "race" without crying? Or get through the race at all?

As it turns out, it's actually only a checkpoint ride with no fixed route. It started at 1 and one of the friendly, good natured, granola eaters says, "Be back here by 3:30." Ha. ...Ha...ha hahahahaha. When I rode up to the starting point with Mostly Naked, there were probably about 30 other riders. Not one beach cruiser. Lightweight, carbon-fiber, stretchy shorts, little dopey hats, bindings and road-racing bikes as far as the eye can see. One, even, without brakes and only one gear. Dead meat on a stick? Me.

Mostly Naked and I didn't work on a plan. We were given a list of checkpoints...5 I think, all spread out over the environs of Eau Claire. And we did them in numeric order. That might've been our first mistake. Also, the fact that we both took turns getting ourselves lost didn't help either. But so what? I had a good attitude (at least when I started out) that I wasn't going to get discouraged and that I WAS going to finish this here silliness.

The cruiser is actually a 7 speed in the rear wheel hub, so it's not like I had to grind through one gear the whole way. But if you ever look at an elevation map of Eau Claire...there's not much around here that's flat. A couple of particular hills (Birch/Madison and State Streets) are just painful to look at. Honestly? I kept trying to find minus 2nd gear. Had to walk those two bastard hills. Not Mostly Naked. The punk.

Mostly Naked was a saint. SAINT. He's in much better shape than me and, when we all first left the start point, and I watched the main group ride away out of sight within seconds, I looked over at him and said, "I understand if you want to start seeing faster bicyclists." He assured me he was just looking to enjoy the ride and not haul ass. Well, at some point he actually did haul ass...mine. Up one incline (minor though it was, but at that point it ALL felt like it was uphill), we grabbed hands and each took turns pulling one another up to the top. If I wasn't laughing so hard, I probably could've used him another 20 feet or so.

How'd we do? The last two checkpoints were supposed to have people manning them. They apparently gave up after 3:30. We rolled back to the start point...about 4:30...maybe 5. But we did it! Finished! Nearly 30 flippin' miles! Here's our route. While it may appear to not be that much on this map, we actually took the same route back in some places.

View Larger Map

I slept pretty good that night. No surprise there. The next morning, Sunday, I awoke bright-eyed and sore-tailed, slithered into the leather suit, hopped on my motorized two-wheeler and openly mocked every bicyclist I saw. Neener neener indeed.