Friday, July 02, 2010

I Should Stick to What I know

Of course, if I did that, you would be staring at a blank page.

What can I say? I'm a technical genius. And despite the fact that I, more often than not, post something in this space five times a week, I'm not really all that inter-netty. I'm mainly a one way street when it comes to the web, I don't take in all that much. Not having a desk job makes spending countless hours on the laptop when the only man I'm sticking it to is myself seem kind of pathetic and sad. In Wednesday's post I made a gaff by covering a topic Bike Snob had already covered. What was I thinking? It involved a lame video related to fixed gears, how could he not have covered it before anyone else? And not only did he cover it, he killed it — broke it down into little pieces and spit them out. If I spent more time reading blogs, I would read his blog more often. I was desperate for material. My video from yesterday, that I was going to post Wednesday took forever to load up to Vimeo and I had about twenty minutes to scramble and cobble something together. Damn! What can I throw up today? Oh ya, that video Bullit sent me, sweet! Oh well, that'll teach me to even touch that subject. The subject of hipsters and fixed gears that is. Having the market cornered is right.

Then today (Thursday) M tells me (while looking at her new fancy phone) that my post wasn't up at about 9AM, I was flummoxed, I had set it to post at 6AM as usual so all the early risers could read it while they sat at their breakfast tables, feeling superior to people like me who only get up before 8:30 AM when there is an insanely good reason. Work doesn't qualify, neither do calls about deaths in the family. Bike races qualify, as do fires. So I rode into to work...
we stayed out at Pop's Camp, the cabin my family has on a lake in Wrentham, I had a solid 1:45 commute at a good clip, some craziness happened on the way in, y'know...cops, punching cars, and when I got to the shop I found that I had scheduled my post to go up at 3:47 PM. Wait! Hold up a second, this is good. Last night when I wrote that post, I went to schedule it...for 6 AM on 6/31/10. You know what happens when you schedule a post for a day that doesn't exist? It posts immediately. Now I don't know how RSS feeds work or any of that crap, I'm no Rooter. (I have to keep kissing Rooter's skinny ass and sending him traffic. He provides me with a ton of tech support, in fact he's holding my hand through podcasting right now....just you wait.) When I post the the thing and then quickly take it down, I'm not sure if the RSS feed folks get to keep it and have a little sneak-screening Big Bikes party. I guess I'll never know.

God, what an awful post, uh, I mean, aren't you enjoying this behind the scenes episode of Big Bikes? I find this shit fascinating, don't you?

K-Sweet's very timely post from today reminded me that I forgot to make fun of myself for my squeaky bike at the Pinnacle a few weeks back. I guess I spent all my time editing video. It was truly horrible, the worst ever. I had not swapped my wheel out for the race, using a schwappy training wheel instead. It went nuts about ten minutes into the race, squeaking like a hamster caught in a Cuisinart. And it acted up the worst while I was climbing. I was climbing horrible too, so it only added annoyance to injury. It was like having a pissed off ferret stapled to my face while my hands were tied around my back. No exaggeration.

Not sure what's happening Monday. We're taking off for the weekend, VT "training camp." Going to get to ride with George W. up in Waterbury. Not the George W. who is so horrible at riding bikes that he runs over Scottish cops (you'll never live that down W...never). This George W. knows how to ride a bike very well. That makes me feel all stoked inside. But we're contemplating a laptop-free weekend, and lucky for us, our weekend includes Monday. Unlucky for you three people that still read this thing, there may not be a post here Monday, we'll see.
But I will be working on those podcasts. Be afraid, be very afraid.

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