Why my hallway was the place to be this summer.

This summer I learned that mud in pipes can cause backup and overflow, resulting in puddles spilling out the vent if you try to run the air conditioner. So while waiting for someone to come diagnose this problem and get the ac running again, my choices were to languish in the heat and be a sweaty mess, or chill out in the hallway. Considering it's such a narrow passage where not much ever happens, I never figured conditions could be so varied that I could give a weather report on them. Yet the humidity, wind speed, and a thermometer were enough to keep me entertained. I'm not sure if the heat momentarily boiled my brains or if I'm just way too easily amused, but either way- fun times.

School starts tomorrow! I love it. Not the overpriced, overcrowded school with all kinds of hoops to jump through, but the learning experience and diversity of people and big ol' library are a joy to be around. Also, returning to that hub of activity is like busting out of solitary confinement, and as a social creature, I can't help but be psyched.

Biking

"Riding this bike is a workout, riding that bike is an adventure."
-Dad

I have a beach cruiser I used to ride to and from school, but since my parents deemed the roads to college too busy to be safe my bike has been sitting in the garage gathering dust. Since I'm not a fan of driving (read, totally terrified of it), and don't have a job right now, gas is precious and this summer I've been biking to the grocery store, the post office, the dentist, anywhere that doesn't cross a freeway. At first it was uncomfortable and my muscles went, "Hey, we haven't done this in a while!" Equally awkward was using hand signals since I don't think most drivers know what to make of them and some people stare at me like they think they should recognize me because I was waving at them. Only I wasn't waving, I was signalling! I guess it's a lost art. Anyway, biking-wise, I'm up to speed now. Not that biking on a beach cruiser is particularly speedy, even if I do use the wide handles to pretend I'm podracing.

Watching The Biggest Loser is pretty inspiring and after a few seasons of this my dad said, "If these people can run a marathon, I can bike to work." So he bought himself a nice bike and started doing laps in the morning, waking me up a few times to accompany him. I lag hopelessly behind since his bike goes into high gear and mine is all leg power, but it's fun. And the pinnacle of fun came this weekend! Neither of us was scheduled to do camera work at church this Sunday so we went with a neighbor to his church Saturday night. Sunday morning found us up before 6, preparing to do a charity ride for the Parks and Rec. Department.

There were 2 bike rides hosted by Henry's this morning. I'm super excited about this store opening! Healthy food, local produce, friendly service, cheaper and closer than Trader Joe's. I've been to this place in Southern California when visiting relatives, and now it's here in my own neighborhood! Aah! I tried getting a job there, but alas, they underestimated my enthusiasm and didn't hire me (read, wanted people with actual cashier experience. Pfft.) Anyway. I hope this store, the first in northern California, lives up to my expectations, and that people shop there so it doesn't go the way of Albertson's and Lucky's and such. It looks so promising.

The first bike ride started at 6am. 52 miles through parks and along a river before meeting for lunch. Sounds good, right? But my dad, his friend and I weren't quite up to doing that. She didn't have a bike, and I borrowed our neighbor's since I was sure I wouldn't be able to keep up on a beach cruiser, and I didn't want to get separated in a crowd of cyclists. Participants were required to wear helmets and since we only had two I borrowed the neighbor's daughter's skateboarding helmet. It wasn't until the morning of the ride that we realized the front tire was coming away from the wheel, so all in all, I had some motley looking gear. I didn't care, and was too excited to mind, until we pulled into the parking lot to register for our 10 mile ride that started at 7. There were some intense looking bikers there. Neon vests, form-fitting one piece outfits, aerodynamic helmets, and fingerless gloves with rubber grips adorned bodies with skinny legs. A sea of sunglasses stared at us from weathered faces atop these finely sculpted physiques before going back to examining their shiny bikes that made whizzing sounds. I was awed and impressed. But not too awed to shout "Yay" and clap when wave after wave of bikers took off for the first ride.

My dad, his friend J and I then milled around in the parking lot for over an hour. We thought the line to register would be long, but apparently not a lot of people in Elk Grove want to wake up early Sunday morning for a bike ride. There was no line. In fact, up until the last minute where we lined up for the ride, I only saw 3 other bikers, 2 of which were Henry's employees. So I had plenty of time to dance to the two songs that played over and over, one which was completely in a foreign tongue and one whose main refrain was "Boom, boom." J and I peeked into the store and got all excited about the half stocked shelves and we all went to test out the cycling machine the Sports Authority reps brought. And of course, we helped ourselves to free drinks and stickers. Sobe Lifewater is goooooood. Plus, who doesn't like stickers?!

Finally, about 15 people pulled up their bikes to the starting point. Some were elderly, some were overweight, 4 were Henry's employees. We were a ragtag band of casual bikers. (Sunday drivers!) The MC reminded us to follow the rules of the road and then did a countdown to amp up the excitement, since the start of the other ride was quiet and subdued. Then we were off! To the edge of the parking lot! Where we stopped for a red light. It was pretty anti-climatic. Then this older gentleman plowed ahead of us all because the streets were completely empty and still and we all laughed as we went along with him. Our trio started out at the head of the pack, but I found it was slow going with them. Everyone started passing us up. By the time we got to the snack station at Elk Grove Park, we were the last of the group. Oh well. We had an enjoyable bike ride back to Henry's, uneventful except for the one wrong turn we took when we were a block away from the finish. Whoops.

Lessons learned:
~ Don't complain about other people going slow. They will switch bikes, so that the one on the bike that rides itself leaves you far behind, and the one with the mountain bike will stay at least a quarter of a mile ahead of you at all times.
~ Don't stand up on an unfamiliar bike for the first time if you're going uphill and crossing a freeway on-ramp. You will forget you need to keep your feet straight and ride with a decided wobble that will freak out drivers and yourself.
~ Don't forget what you already knew; it's all about the hand brakes. Or at least the one that touches the tire that isn't coming off. Pedaling backwards does nothing!
~ Look at the map before setting off, since switching bikes means your dad no longer has his map or water, and when the sun pops out it will sap away his memory of the route just before the finish line.

Participants got a goody bag from Henry's and some snacks at the end. Everything in my bag was great! Cereal, drinks, bag clasp, certificate for Chik-Fil-A, coupon for Henry's. I don't know about the frisbee from Citibank, but it's free and thus, fine by me. Same goes for the notepad and pencil from Hampton Inn & Suites. I used to deliver newspapers there. So after listening to my dad's praise for my ability to ride a broken bike whose tires complained the whole time, snacking on chocolate covered coffee beans, a combination I'd never heard of but am now crazy about, and packing up our gear, our little trio and J's family went to IHOP for a most delicious breakfast. And when we got home, my mom and brother weren't even up yet. Goooood times.

I win.

I'm usually an inward laugher. So every time I opened the fridge and saw this label, I would do an inward chuckle. Just look at the circled part! False advertising is funny, no?


I was going to blog a fruity customer review about how the blueberries got to me before the best by date, but they did not arrive in the condition described, yet on account of those standards being so very epic it was understandable, and I'd eat them again. (It's that time of year, when I buy textbooks online and leave customer reviews.) The problem with this is that even though I don't equate flavors with feelings, some people might. If not for kicks and giggles, then possibly because of a particular type of synesthesia.

I would love to have this mentality. It just seems like it would be fun to live in a world where you see colored letters and numbers instead of black print on a white page. It seems useful to see a certain color when you hear a particular musical note. I imagine tuning would be so much easier! Alas, I merely associate letters with colors. When I was a kid it used to irritate me that the letter magnets were always the wrong color. But after a while I didn't give the colors a second thought, I just read. Whereas if my brain had continued to cling to these associations, maybe I'd be reading in color instead of black and white.


Aside from the sneaking suspicion that V should be brown, Y is pink, and Q and Z could be orange, this is how the alphabet should be. Maybe. The letters that are reddish brown have such distinctive shapes that I couldn't get a grip on their distinct colors. Numbers are even trickier. I knew 1,2,6,8,9, and 0 were male while 4 and 5 were female, but 3 and 7 are tricky. And then everything changes color when you put them together! It's as if there's a sense of comradery. Each letter goes, "Hey guys! We're in this word together! Let's have our colors blend!" as though they're on a team and need a uniform. Numbers aren't about unification, though. When you count, they stand alone. When you work equations they don't care if you see the colors clearly because they know the only numbers you care about are the result of the equation. Even the numbers in the final answer don't show their colors clearly, as if they sense they'll soon be separated. I like to blame my difficulty with math on the fact that I never had a good connection with numbers. Here's a line-up of the single digits as they usually appear to be. Those slippery characters...



Personification can be fun. Synesthesia might be fun. Sadly, it's on account of these concepts that the things I was going to chronicle as amusing are no longer laughable, so I'll update with this instead:

To celebrate my brother's birthday my family went to see Tim Hawkins, Bob Smiley, and John Branyan in their rock show comedy palooza. It was highly amusing. I'd be worried if it wasn't since the whole point of a comedy show is to laugh at people. Yeah, you can laugh at people anywhere, but people anywhere have a tendency to not understand why you're laughing or get offended if you think you're laughing at them. Comedians expect to be laughed at and make you pay for the privilege. Then everyone wins!

I bite my thumb at the BOE.

I’m a bit of a word nerd. Alliteration, clever puns, and double entendres never fail to amuse me. Taking Latin only increased the fun as I can now dissect words I don’t know based on the roots, or sense the deeper meaning to names. But do you know what’s even more fun than the scholarly scrutiny of words?

Abusing slang with wild abandon.

Cursing is a pet peeve of mine, because I think it shows a lack of intelligence to resort to vulgar expressions. Especially when someone speaks English- it’s such an expansive language! There are plenty of ways to show depth of feeling without being crude. Maybe I also feel this way because most of the foul-mouthed people I’ve met have been ignorant or shallow or both. Since swearing is a major aggravation to me, I have fun finding suitable substitute words. These fall mostly into one of two categories.

1. Alternative vernacular.
For example: “What the… um, heck?” becomes “What the fluff?”
It’s better than using the notorious f word or taking the topic of eternal damnation lightly to merely express momentary confusion or dubious disbelief. It can also summon the feeling of awkwardness I get when ambushed by Fluff monsters in a game. The best part? These creatures have leaders known as Mother Fluffs. That makes a good exclamation.



Of course, my expressions tend to be kid-friendly, work safe, and silly sounding. It’s cool because no one else talks quite like I do. At the same time, I would probably have trouble expressing anger and have people take me seriously. At that point it’s best to bust out the frustrated grunts and aggravated growls and let fierce body language do all the communicating.

2. Outdated expressions.
Resurrecting outdated slang is totally tubular. People may laugh because the terms sound so wack and/or the sayings make no sense to them.

For Example: On a visit to my grandparent's house I went through a Reader's Digest magazine which had an article on slang. When I was done I pranced into the kitchen and said, "This is how Reader's Digest think my friends and I talk. 'Yo, wassup homies? Wanna veg in my tight crib? '" My parents were all, "I don't think you have to cram all the words into one sentence," and, "You don't, but kids in some neighborhoods do, to a lesser extent." And my grandma was all, "Ooh, that's how kids talk today! I read that in Reader's Digest!"

As a rule, the more dated the expression, the less likely you are to be understood- perfect for when you want to insult someone to their face without them knowing! When I went to Ashland for the Shakespeare Festival I saw a poster listing many of the insults the Bard had penned. And when a friend made a comment I’d told him many times I didn’t appreciate, I unleashed a torrent of antiquated smack talk, leaving him completely clueless as to what comebacks could possibly apply. Feel free to use this technique on any fusty nut with no kernel, festering canker blossom, taffeta punk, debile strumpet, dog fox not proved worth a blackberry, etc.


Anyway, what has made me smile every time I though of it for the last few days was my dad sympathizing with me over having to file a tax return for the first time ever. I had a paper route for a few months, but in the transition from old management to new and switching accounting systems, my poor boss had too much to handle. As a result he kept charging me for more papers than I actually sold and didn’t fix billing problems or broken racks and stuff. So I ended up not making any money. Then the state wanted a cut of the money I didn’t make. To top things off I couldn’t figure out the e-file process so I talked to a snippy lady on the phone who didn’t help, got put on hold where I had to wait at least 40 minutes to talk to someone unhelpful, and finally had to walk through the blazing heat to take care of it in person. Thus, when discussing the situation with my dad, he uttered a few nuggets of wisdom and this gem.

“You really got shafted in this whole paper business.”

My dad said “shafted.” That just tickles me so! It’s not something I expect him to say, and I feel a bit of pride that my old man can use my generation’s slang correctly. Not that our slang is off-limits or hard to figure out. Even if it was, he’s a smart guy. It was just weird, knowing him, to hear those words. I can’t help but grin every time I think of it.


* Secret of Mana Theater. You should be watching.