Green Eyed Monster Sex

Hey gang, I'm still alive. And Frank Dux and Chong Li are stoked to see me.



So what's been going on? Well, I finished one screenplay. It was about a teacher who falls for another teacher. I know, it's a stretch for me to write about a teacher. Anyway, after what seemed like a good romance, the protagonist did not get the girl. Once again, a huge stretch for me to write.

However, it turned out that screenplay sucked. Not much character development, and no good hook. Well, sometimes you have to be willing to drown your own baby, so I scrapped that project.

Now I'm working on a new screenplay. I'm about halfway done with the first draft, but finding the time and the impetus to write has been a bit hard. Hopefully once I'm done with the brats, I'll finish it.

So that's what has been occupying a bunch of my time. But life goes on...

Last week was a three day weekend. I was so hoping to have fun with everyone I know. Yet Murphy, or karma, saw fit to bring me down.

Friday: The House Monger called. "Let's get our groove on," she said. I have no idea what it is with dancing, but women insist on forcing men to make fools of themselves. I think it's a power trip. It's a power trip because I keep asking to be taught, but no one will teach me. They rather I jump in without any training for their amusement.

Didn't matter though. She never called back.

Then GSXGrrrl called to see what my plans were. Then she said she would call back.

She never called back.

Tattoo Girl was also busy. Fuck me. Life sucked.

Yay for video games though.

Saturday started as mundane as shit too. I changed the oil on my motorcycle, and cleaned and lubed the chain. Then I took a spin up the mountain. I wasn't feeling it, so I went back home. That's when GSXGrrrl remembered to call me.

We grabbed a pizza, the main food of the unintelligentsia, picked up L, then headed to Suzuki for an oil filter. After that we hit the Walmart like we were rednecks. On the way back home, we decided to take the bikes out for a ride.

Which brings me to the point of this post. L bought a new bike.



No, I'm not jealous at all. Why should I be? I mean, I'm riding a 5 year old econo-sportbike. I wouldn't desire a brand new top of the line 600, right?

I think I look better on this bike.



Yup, yup.

Now for the sex thing. They say, on average, intercourse takes 3 to 13 minutes. I had intercourse with the ground in 5. I had to ride my mountain bike perpendicular to a steeply sloped section of trail. My bike slid down the slope. I followed it.



I think my seat nailed me on the bottom of my right butt cheek. Feels like a bruise. Funny thing is that if it hit 3 inches to the left, I would have had intercourse with the bike too.

More Than the Ego

I swear, I must be one of the clumsiest mountain bike riders ever. Besides the numerous scratches and bruises, I've also managed to knock myself unconscious and got myself a trip to the ER. And this weekend I got to add yet another injury to the list.

It all started on Friday. Riley called me and asked if I could bring a truck over to pick up my bike. He normally transports our bikes himself since they're stored at his workplace. This time though, his friend was supposed to come with us on Saturday, which meant he needed to transport an extra bike.

His friend didn't show on Saturday. He showed up at my house with both of his Gary Fisher Kingfisher 2 freeride/downhill bikes. He told me to leave my Haro X6 at home and to ride one of his bikes.



The Kingfisher 2 has a suggested retail of over $2000. The one he let me ride had a $1300 Fox 40R fork on it.



Now Riley is a bit... um... tight. And anal. While the words "tight" and "anal" would have me giggling like a school girl, I was a bit apprehensive. I am known for crashing on the trails, and the thought of crashing this expensive bike had me worried. If I put a scratch on the bike, I wouldn't hear the end of it.

Luckily, most of the day went well. Even this one particular section that causes me grief was easily handled with the freeride bike. Things felt good.

Then on our second run of the day it happened. I crashed. I was following the same path as normal and did nothing out of the ordinary. I did not lock up the brakes. In fact, I had both hands off the brake levers. The front wheel did not lock up in a rut, nor did it wash out. The wheels did not lose traction and slide out. It just felt like something grabbed the back wheel and pulled the bike out from under me.

So the bike stopped forward momentum, while my body continued on. I know the bike stopped because when I got up, it was right where I left it. I don't think it suffered any damage since Riley did not call me. He wouldn't miss a new ding.

My body didn't fare so well.



As I felt the body leaving the bike, I swore to myself, then looked at my landing zone. I was going to land on some left over stumps from some cut down shrubs. The stumps looked like pungee sticks. I thought, "this is going to rip me open." Fortunately it didn't.

I got up and dusted myself off. I stuck a gloved hand under my jersey to check for blood. There was none, so I turned to see what caused my fall. The only thing different on the trail from before was a couple of three foot long, freshly cut branches. They were laying next to the rear tire of the bike. My best guess is that I may have gotten those branches stuck in the wheels.

Later that night I realized the injury was a lot larger. I added in the parts that you couldn't see in the picture.



To add insult to injury, my brother and I headed into town to return our bikes. We stopped by Borders Books to pick up some magazines.

Remember that pretty girl with the piercings? She was there again.



Yup yup. Macho Nonwheezer could only manage to watch her work and couldn't work up the courage to talk to her. Rawr! I'm a kitten in a lion's world.

Zero MPH Crash

How can someone have an ER inducing crash at zero miles per hour? Easy. If they have the walrus-like dexterity of Nonwheezer, they can pull it off no problem.



Last Wednesday, I decided to continue using these pedals. They're called "clipless." It sounds like a misnomer, but if you knew the history behind this type of pedals, the name would make sense. The original forms had a "clip," that went over the foot. This ones remove the clip and replaces it with a special clamp. The clamp matches a bracket that is mounted to biking shoes. Once you are clamped in, your foot is stuck to the pedal.

The benefit of such a pedal set up is that you can use full power throughout the entire pedal-stroke. With regular platform pedals, you can only push down. With the clipless, you can also pull up. This adds to your pedalling efficiency.

The downside is that if you're not careful, you can fall with your feet locked into the pedals. That's what happened to me. I had a minor knee-scraping fall in the parking lot before our ride. Unfortunately, my handlebar hit the ground, and my chin hit the handlebar. When I picked myself up, my friend noticed I was injured. I felt nothing except the blood dripping off my chin.



So off to the ER we went. Another ride cut short by my mad skillz.

Nurse: Wow! How did you manage to do that?

Nonwheezer: Um... sheer stupidity?

Nurse: Yeah, that will get you all the time.

Both the nurse and the doctor were very pretty blonde women.

I was in the ER for about 2 and a half hours. There were other emergencies, so my injury had to wait. It was ok though. I think I fell asleep. I know I felt surprisingly refreshed by the time the doctor started to stitch me up.



It turns out that my injury was a bit more complicated than a deep laceration. The end of the handlebar actually gouged out a bit of flesh. The doctor tried her best, but all she could do was sew up the edges to help close the wound a bit. It couldn't be sewn completely.

Nonwheezer: ...

Doc: You were going to say something? (with needle and suture in hand)

Nonwheezer: Yeah. I now have an embroidered chin. hehe.



I finally got out and headed home. I hadn't stopped bleeding since the crash, so I was concerned that bath time would be torture. But for some reason, my wound doesn't hurt. If it weren't for the tension of the sutures and bandaids, I would forget I have this injury.

Shaving was scary though. Fate played a stupid trick on me. For about 2 weeks I let my goatee grow. Now I had to spend a fair amount of time trying to remove as much facial hair as I could so my bandages would stick. I was afraid I would damage the sutures or reopen the wound, but I eventually completed the task ok.



And this is with me cleaned up and with part of the gash stitched.

Of course, Riley had to keep ragging me about the crash. He told everyone he knew about the ER visit. On and on he went.

But the Japanese believe in bachi. What goes around, comes around. Early Thursday morning, the abrasive Riley was goofing off while riding a MTB. He took a pedal to the shin. And that specific pedal had really long gripping pegs. He ended up with some nice holes in his leg.

Road to Recovery

It's Crash-Day +2. We got high wind warnings, so I'm staying off the motorcycle. It would be asking a bit much to ride with a hurt shoulder and bad weather. So I have nothing to do but play video games and watch YouTube.

These videos helped cheer me up. At least I'm not the only one who crashes.

Use a Condom, or Protection

Take it from Mozilla. Always use a condom. No wait. Make that, "always use protection." That should be less ambiguous for my two readers.

Today's secret word is: Protection.

As usual, I went mountain biking yesterday on the mountain. It's a great activity to help you keep fit and active, and to experience the great outdoors.



I pee on the trail too.

But mountain biking can be dangerous. You can wipe out on steep downhills. I've done it several times.



Or you could get your wheels stuck on some gnarly terrain. You can get up close and personal with the terrain you're riding on. I've done it before.



I took a really bad spill yesterday. I was going faster than I should have, on a section of trail I've never been on. Big mistake. The last thing I remember was my front wheel falling into a rut and me flying head-first toward the ground.



I think I actually went unconscious for a while. Notice that my being unconscious, and later being unable to get up, did not stop my so-called friend from taking time out to photograph the scene.

I woke up totally dazed with some memory loss and a jacked up shoulder.

The fun thing about suffering a memory-loss inducing head trauma is that the rest of the day feels brand new. Or better yet, the rest of my day felt like an old computer rpg. I was on a quest to figure out the events of the day. And just like those old rpgs, the npcs I talked to weren't very helpful and my chat interface sucked. I think I was babbling.

Nonwheezer: How did I fall?

Riley NPC: The Riley has nothing more to say.

Nonwheezer: How did I get down here?

Riley NPC: The Riley has nothing more to say.

Nonwheezer: Wow, you kind of suck.

Riley NPC: The Riley has nothing more to say.



Once I figured out that I indeed could not remember things, I decided I would use sheer brainpower to muscle through the problem. I figured since I was smarter than most, my brain kung-fu would come out victorious. It would be like using a Cray, or maybe NASA's supercomputer to balance a checkbook.



Turns out, it doesn't matter how big a computer you have. If the lights are out, you ain't figuring out shit. No matter how hard I tried, I still drew blanks.



Eventually, with time, most of my memories came back. However, there's still a thirty minute blank spot after the crash. Luckily my motor skills weren't damaged and I rode down the road to the lookout just fine. I just couldn't form any memories during that time. Weird yet cool.

At the lookout I was still in babble mode. I can remember bits and pieces here and there, but it felt like I was really drunk. I do remember this one nursing student friend who checked if I had a concussion.



When that memory came back, I was in awe. Honestly, I did not expect such skills from this student at this time. I figured she would need a couple more years of study to reach the level of nurse-fu I experienced. She greatly exceeded all expectations. I was ready to become her groupie. In my clouded head, she was one miracle shy of sainthood. I was really close to hero worship and I was already planning which of my students I would use for human sacrifices.



"Oh, I thought you were lying so I was just checking to see if you were bullshitting."

Hahaha! Reality hit me as hard as my head hit the trail. God, I must have really been out of it.

Right now it's about hour 22 of the 24 hour concussion watch. I haven't slept for more than three hours at a time, yet I feel alert and wide awake. My body hurts like hell though. I do need to thank Riley once again. He woke me up at 4:30 AM (farmers don't even wake this early) by sending me a pix message on my phone. I couldn't ignore it otherwise my phone would beep all night long.



Now I'm not sure what he was trying to say by sending me a pic of a Trek Session 7. I know he was trying to convince me to ditch my Haro X6 (with upgraded fork and brakes) and buy the Trek, but if he was trying to insinuate that a better bike would have prevented my fall, then he really needs to cut back on the pot. I was on a Session 77, and upgraded Session 7, when I fell.

Anyway, it's now the day after. My upper body hurts, and I probably can't ride my motorcycle even though it's a holiday weekend. On the bright side, I have an extra day to recover before having to face the evil spawns of Satan- my students.



Wear your helmet! Probably saved me from an ambulance ride to the hospital.

Chicks Dig Scars... and Ball Huggers

Check out this fool.



He's got a Snell approved helmet with attention-getting ears. A leather jacket with CE approved armor in the shoulders, elbows, and back. Full leather gloves with knuckle protection. Leather sport pants with hip padding and knee armor. He even has racing style boots that has ankle support and toe, heel, and shin armor. It's like he's afraid he's going to fall off his motorcycle.

Don't he know that chicks dig scars?

Even the doofuses in professional racing don't know that. Idiots.



The easiest and quickest way to get those honey-attracting scars is to get rid of all that stupid protection. Why spend hundreds or thousands of dollars when you can get band aids and neosporin for under $10?

Take a look at this smart and attractive couple. They're famous in the sportbike world. Their pictures made the rounds of all the major bike message boards and also made it into a major monthly publication that's not porn!



Learn from them. The best way to ride is with your eye protection off. Never cover your arms. They're the first place you need to scar. The girl is obviously cooler than the guy since she forgoes the tee for a tank. They lose points for the gloves though. The guy earns sissy points for wearing jeans even though jeans shred on asphalt after about three feet of sliding. He should be a man like the girl and wear shorts. The running shoes are ok since they neither protect your feet nor do they stay on in major accidents. The girl went for the ever popular slippers/thongs/flipflops.

They're prepped and ready to go for the beauty enhancing scar tissue. And there they go.



Man, her once beautiful, smooth, nicely tanned legs are gonna look awesome with scars all over. oooooooohhhh. I'm shivering.

Check out this hottie. A wet dream come true. She took a fall at triple digit speeds wearing a sweatshirt. Boing!



**********************************

On a different note, here's a real life tip for those of you who ride.

Try compression shorts. They actually work. They provide support for your hams and glutes, helping prevent the dreaded "burning butt." You'll be able to ride longer and more comfortably wearing those compression shorts. The added bonuses are that they don't ride up and give you accidental thongs, and they keep your leathers from sticking to your sweaty body.

This applies to women too. The shorts aren't there to support a guy's nuts. Women have hams and glutes too, so they can also benefit from the shorts.

Or you could try those padded bike shorts. They do the same job.

Here's a pic of me in my compression shorts.



Just kidding. The guy is a model. I had to fire him though as his package does not do me any justice.


*The couple on the bike survived with minor injuries. The girl was going into shock when help arrived though. The road rashed girl is real. No photoshop.*

**Wear your gear**

Pigs and Indecision

Today was the first day trail riding in three weeks. I had missed the previous weekends due to work and people being off island. There were three of us today. It was supposed to be four, but the last guy didn't show.

Now since we're lazy and weak, plus we use all-mountain and freeride bikes, we use trucks to shuttle our bikes to the top of the trail. Before we get started, we usually gear up at the first lookout on the mountain, a place called FM.



I don't know why we call it FM. We just do. We have tons of really stupid nonsensical names for places. I just learned not to ask and to just go with the flow.

At FM there were a bunch of tourists. Among these touri (I want to make my own words) were some pretty, young, blonde girls.



"Excuse me sir. How much do you want for your young daughter? Don't need to get mad sir. Don't worry. I have lots of experience handling young girls. I've dealt with lots of them."

And off we went to the top of the trail.



Lucky us. Right where we park our trucks was a Game Warden. They're the cops on the mountain. While we were unloading our bikes, he came over to talk to us.



All the things we wanted to say started flowing through our minds: F*kk you cops! Die Pigs! Down with the Man! You don't own this land! Power to the people! Kiss my ass, copper! Help help, I'm being oppressed!

"Yes officer, how can we help you?" (Did I mention we're cowards?)

Turns out he just wanted to inform us on the proper areas to ride bikes. And we were so ready to run him through.

Off on the trail we went. Yeehaw! I think it's about 4-5 miles. Lots of fun, lots of pushing. Then we got back to FM.



The other two guys took a car to pick up the truck. I waited with our bikes and gear. I had nothing to do, and I wasn't about to entertain the touri, so I rode around on the new Session 77. It's a cool bike. Seven inches of suspension travel. Top quality components. Hydraulic brakes. Everything. It even has a nifty "lock out," feature.



The lock out feature reduces the length of the front fork's travel. Reducing the travel also reduces the amount of power lost during pedaling. All you need to do is flip a switch and compress the fork.

Then here comes an idiot (me). I flip the switch, pedal the bike up to speed, nail the front brakes while leaning forward.



Luckily I jumped off the seat and got my feet on the ground, thus preventing severe bruising of the ego. A little girl saw me though. I will have to hunt her down and kill her now. She knows too much.

After a second run, we headed off the mountain to eat lunch. My friend asked me to call GSX-RGirrrl. She's one of the girls featured in my Twilight blog/video. We had a friendly dinner together a week ago. You can read it in the Back Off and Island Girl blog. At the end of the dinner, GSX-RGirrrl (hereafter referred to as Girl) suggested we do it again. So my friend wanted to know when Girl wanted to eat.



It turns out this girl does not eat. Maybe my comment about her ass getting fat got to her? Is she starving herself? She said she had to work all week so she couldn't eat. She must be building a pyramid for Pharaohs or something because if she has to work so much that she can't eat, then she must be a slave.

And she shouldn't worry about the size of her ass. It has a nice curve to it. I would try to prove it to her, but I lost my french curve when the hurricane (1992) trashed my house.

I'm guessing Girl is just indecisive. Wishy-washy. Can't make up her mind. Can any other female fill me in on this? To me, deciding on eating is a rather simple manner. I know I'll be hungry in the evening, so I'll shoot out a day that I know isn't a religious or state holiday. Simple. It's not like we're trying to plan a Mars mission.



Oh crap. I think I figured it out. Despite what Sockfoot says, my looks make babies cry. I've had sideshow freaks give me standing ovations. Girl must not like me. Or I probably smell bad. Hmmm... so I think it would be best to fire the first salvo. If she doesn't like me then too bad. I'll eat double portions of dinner hahahaha! And I won't have to worry about my ass getting fat. Though it is ugly, it's made of steel. Mountain biking does that, you know.

In the end I will probably beg and play nice. I'll do my best to set up yet another group dinner thing no matter how hard the parties involved try to avoid eye contact with me. After all, there's something about Girl that I like.

I want to mount her,

And ride her...





bright red GSX-R600!



*******late add**********



WTF is with Match.com? They're now advertising on MySpace using a webcam-like ad. It gets really annoying. I mean, I was just there posting the link to this blog when I saw the ad. I had my pants around my ankles before I realized they were NOT going to get naked. F*CK!