cheetos and porn

Away From the Cliff

2007-08-20T01:06:00.000-07:00

I'm better now.

I won't kill you when you cross me. I will maim you, but death isn't in your future.

I can walk in places of public without wanting to wipe out the entire lot.

I can even spend a couple of minutes in the grocery store without hitting snap.

I'm still not me.

I've been dating whores and tramps for a week or so; none that have a picture that looks remotely like them on their profile. Tap it and forget it.

Setting your hand on fire is bad. A couple of days ago I was welding a bracket for the Jeep and wasn't paying attention. No gloves, solvent on my hand... a spark.

I now have my own flame tatoo in the color of red on my hand. I don't know if it will go away nor do I care. Just know, wear gloves when you weld and don't have solvent on you fucking hands. It hurts.

Working on purchasing an RV and have one in sights... and want to head to Baja for a while. Why not live in the wild west for a bit? When on edge, find the edge.

You are never more alive than when you are almost dead. Quote that one to me, bitch.

Weight: 248
Down: 1.5
Mood: Razor sharp

I'm Straight and My Ass Hurts

2007-08-11T18:51:00.001-07:00

70 miles is not something that you should do after being off of the bike for some time.

I did.

I thought I'd do my old "Century Saturday" and ended up bonking somewhere in Laguna. I'm fat and not in game shape like I used to be.

Tonight I don't need wine to make me woozy... I'm already there. Too many miles, too little carbs. I hammered all of the way to Laguna, some 40 miles, and even attacked the hills. I died at main beach with a canyon ride back to Sand Canyon, where I slept in the shade of an oak at a church. Fuck me, I'm old.

Even though I don't need the wine, I may take a hit or two off of an $80 bottle while shopping for my RV.

I'm better today than yesterday, but I'm still pissed. I'm tatooing "Road Trip" to my ass until it happens.

I need a break.

Pull up some Bend Folds Five for listening music tonight, it rings in the mood.

Two Buck Chuck

2007-08-10T18:23:00.001-07:00

I'm $300 into two bottles of wine and I don't care.

I'll awake tomorrow with a hangover the size of Washington, but I don't give two shits. I'll hydrate and ride it out. Money really isn't an issue, I work my ass off and get paid for it.

Well.

Dinner is supposed to be this great steak I've aged, but fuck it. I don't want to eat, I want to swill calories of aged grapes that stain your teeth. Bold, bitchy and ages younger than chicks I'd date. That is where I'm going.

I want an escape.

I've already put down a ten year old Cake Bread and am now working on a seven year old Barbera, yet I know nothing about either one. I could care less.

The thoughts of Karen are still rampant through my head, even though we are done. Done. Notice the capitol D.

I'm on a dating site again and getting hit up like no other. The attention is great, but it is hard to do the intention after the past few weeks. I hope dipping my dangle will help this mood.

I'm bummed. I'm hurt. I'm angry. I'm not me.

I'll be buying my freedom in a $30,000 truck in the next couple of weeks. Build a company, work hard, have them buy you a truck in cash, drink yourself silly, die on a mesa in Utah. The American Dream. Good plan. I'm going to add a camper to tow my jeep, bikes and kayak and just head out. I need a good roadie to recover from this year. You know, strangers drying off your tears, clay pigeons at midnight.... listen to Blaze Foley. You'll get it.

Gonzo.

Seven Little Letters That Sum "Us" Up

2007-08-08T22:11:00.000-07:00

Who ever thought therapy was a good thing ought to be kicked in the ass with a fucking steel toed boot and then dragged by fish hooks to his tar and feathering.

What the fuck was I thinking?

So, my SO (significant other at this point... can't figure out if we are in a relationship or not since I haven't seen her in two weeks) goes to therapy and fucking melts down when she is told she is acting the ass. I mean, complete fucking Chernobyl. Quivering, crying, yelling... and I'm the bad guy because the Doc told her to grow up.

I'm the bad guy when I try to comfort her in the parking lot.

I'm the bad guy when I try to take her to the airport, as we've always done, to fly to see her family.

I'm the bad guy when she cancels our evening together on Monday night because she is too tired, but she can't just hang out.

I'm the bad guy when, after not seeing her for three weeks and her cancelling on me four times in seven days, that I don't invite her to dinner with some friends.

I'm the bad guy and she is going to call me on it.

So our relationship boiled down to those seven little letters that cut like a dull fucking knife squarely planted between your shoulder blades, and then not so gently twisted until it hit still beating heart.

Fuck you.

That was the jist of the call, and we are done; she is out. But was she ever in?

Fuck you.

Therapy sessions cancelled, diamond ring sitting in drawer, her number erased from my phone.

Fuck you.

A year of drama, fighting and angst. Sleepless nights caused by her night terrors and constant leg shaking, talking in her sleep and having never ending bad dreams.

Fuck you.

Her laziness in the relationship and the crap I put up with while catering to her every need, every meal and every desire.

Fuck you.

The flowers, notes, texts, every door opened and special date nights, for no other reason than I loved you.

Fuck you.

Her lies, spins and constantly one upping me. Being competitive and then butt hurt when she didn't win or wasn't right. Her fucking know it all attitude that pissed off my friends and family.

Fuck you.

No, fuck you, Karen.

I deserve better and you don't deserve me.

Fuck you.

I've deleted your phone numbers. I've given away the beach cruiser I built for you that you loved. I threw out the whopping three t-shirts you've given me as gifts from the airport shops in the year. I've busted all of the coffee cups with your employer's name on them. I've dug up the ugly flowers you planted, until lack of light and lack of wine stopped me. I've wiped out all of your test messages and dumped all of the emails from our first days.

Fuck you.

I've been riding and hiking a bunch lately but it didn't keep up with the weekend bender with friends. Backed down to 251 only to bloat back up to 254. Hot as hell here today in muggy California, but I'm going to ride after work tomorrow. Road miles on the Vanilla always make my life happier. I love that bike. I really do.

Weight: 253.5
Trend: Down 1
Mood: Done

Ate some black bean wraps for dinner and I think I'm going to float the fucking sheets tonight. 300 calories and levitation properties, sounds like the perfect food.

Tomorrow I ride.

Sleep Walking

2007-07-30T07:17:00.000-07:00

Another day of little sleep. I'm so fucking tired. Last night I finally went to bed around midnight, I really wanted to bang out eight hours and be good and tired before I hit the pillow. Right as I'm falling asleep I hear the phone, so I get up to see who called (my ex has wicked night terrors and I was thinking something happened and she was freaked). It was a fax. Some asshat of a company got my fax number and now faxes me in the middle of the fucking night with stupid tshirt ads, and they won't stop. Fuck.

I tossed and turned until around 2A and now it looks like I was a punching bag, my eyes are so puffy.

Weight: 254
Trend: down 1

Mood: tired

We fought all day yesterday and she had some crazy panic attack thing. Something about freaking out because she was realizing that I may not be in her life. No shit, you broke up with me. Tonight we see each other for the first time in a week and a half.

Today is also a grand old day because we find out if she has a job or not at noon. Could be a great way to start the day.

"Hi, you are.... oh yeah, my ex. Okay, sure, jump on the payroll for a while, I don't mind. No, no sex either... it is fine."

How the hell I end up here is beyond me.

Yesterday I hiked, not rode. Did almost two hours in Peter's Canyon. Feel like I should have lost more in that my meals consisted of fruit, shrimp and ginger, and for dinner, salmon wraps with herbs and vegis. Don't know why I'm only down one pound, may have to resort to more drastic measures. I did Adkins years ago and was dumping two or three lbs a day. That was crazy.

Today, work, deal with ex's job crap, get gps tracking up on two of my drivers, register two new trucks and broker a truck load so I can make payroll on Wed.

No stress here at all, none.

Business-wise, I'll be out of this financial pinch in 30 days (actually more like 28), then I can start taking home a paycheck worth a damn. Wouldn't that be nice. Hell, maybe I can finally go out and pick up my company truck and start the tear down on the jeep.

He Hasn't Risen?

2007-07-29T13:11:00.000-07:00

Holy crap, could things just go smooth for one second? Just one, that is all I ask.

My yeast for my bread was crap. Yes, crap. I didn't proof it, my fault entirely, and did the dough all at once. No rise. No freaking rise.

Now I have seven cups of crap gooey dough to toss. Fuck.

Decided I needed to get out of the house for a while, it is starting to feel like a prison. On the way to the mall (yes, the mall of all places) my ex calls. She had invited me to a baseball game last night in her drunken state, which I knew I wouldn't be attending when she sobered up. We fought last night and this morning we rehashed things. She pulled the invite.

I basically told her I won't marry a party chick, and she claimed, "I just like to have fun". When I reminded her about everything I want to do that doesn't involve a party and how she cops out every time and I compromise and do something she likes, and how she broke up with me over me not wanting to go to a party, she got angry and said some hurtful things. I broke the news to her that it wasn't my observation that she was a party chick, it was my brother's. She fell silent.

I explained, simply, that my brother doesn't know much about our relationship but when she first met him all of her stories started with, "we were in a bar," or, "one night we were drinking". She tapped out. Done. No more conversation. I think it rocked her to her core. But does she actually get it?

I don't get the chick. She claims I am the one, that she's never met anyone like me and that this love is the most intense she's ever felt, yet she is the one out partying like a rock star on every business trip to the wee hours of the morning, going to bars and being wing-woman for her friends and generally disrespecting the concept of a good relationship. Doesn't she get the fact that when you want a relationship to succeed you put it first and forget the other crap? Doesn't she understand that in a good relationship you remove the extra curricular party life and focus on the relationship?

Doesn't she realize that if your partner isn't into what you bring to the table in an event, you don't say, "I'm going with or without you" and essentially thumb your nose at the relationship?

I'm thinking not.

I don't think she has the slightest idea of a good relationship. Either that or she just doesn't want to be in a good relationship. I'm really starting to believe she wants the best of both worlds, single and having a great guy, but that doesn't work.

I couldn't stand being in the mall, just too fucking hard. I walked into that beast and searched for the first door out. Back at home now, going to restart my bread bullshit. Or not.

I think I'll walk later; head over to Peter's Canyon and take a short tour. Pat called and wanted to ride the canyon but it is just too fucking hot for that canyon, and frankly, I'm just too fucking out of shape.

I may work in the yard today and get Cheetos and Porn, my old Schwinn Paramount singlespeed in bright orange, back up and running. That Heckler really sounds like shit, I need to tear parts of it down.

Fat man walking.

There was Blood on the Saddle...

2007-07-29T10:07:00.000-07:00

Another dark day.

My ex called up last night while out on a party spree. She claimed, "I wish you were here".

I wasn't invited.

She called again before she passed out on someones couch at midnight. She claimed she wasn't drunk, but she called my home phone two times in a row and left messages, thinking she was calling my home and then my cell. Good times for a 40 year old. Good times.

I rode yesterday in the heat. It was cruising around 88* and humid while I did my best to pound out eight or ten miles. I was rolling strictly fat tires in middle ring or better, so I earned the miles and the sweat.

Lunch yesterday was great. Olive oil, garlic, ginger, shrimp and green onion hunks in a hot pan for a couple of minutes. Salt and pepper to taste. Great stuff. I skipped dinner and opted for wine instead. Choose your calories, man.

I'm baking bread at the moment. Well, I'm proofing the bread and then I'll separate it into rolls and then rest, only to bake later. Should be good, but it is my first attempt at French bread (white bread with a flaky crust induced by water steam). I'm looking forward to the experiment. I think I get some odd cathartic release by working with my hands. It really cools my mind which can run pretty rampant at times.

I'm still pretty depressed. The entire break up thing is weighing on my soul like you couldn't believe. Her party ways are doing nothing but adding to it. Now she tells me that she might be laid off, so stupidly, I offered to support her until she finds a new gig. God damn, I am as dumb as box of fucking rocks. Why do I let her suck off of my hind teet?

I'm skinnier today, which is good. I have some rocking food plans for the afternoon as well. Chicken livers on fresh French toast with garlic. Grilled sockeye (line caught) salmon Asian themed burritos and green bean salad with home grown tomatoes are for dinner. At least my food will be good for the day. While the rest of me hates life, my stomach and taste buds will be happy. Breakfast will be fresh fruit and melon, which is always a favorite.

I'll take a walk today, no saddle time. I guess I could burn an hour pretty quick while I'm letting the loaves rise again.

Weight: 255

Trend: down 1.5

Mood: shit

Late.

Shits and Giggles

2007-07-28T10:00:00.000-07:00

Been a couple of days since the last entry and have been trying my best to keep on keeping on.

Today's weight: 256.5

Trend: Down 2.5

Last ride: technically yesterday, albeit short. Day before was a real ride.

Mood: bummin'

Was supposed to ride last night but the fire by the house killed that thought. In short, as I was driving home I spotted a small fire on the other side of the toll road from my street and called it in. I guess I was one of the first to do so, as others started pulling over as well. I hung out to keep an eye on this thing as my house is very near a wilderness park, directly across the road from the fire.

Damn, that fire ran up the hillside (and away from the wilderness park). It went from roadside to 50 acres in about two hours. The smoke was billowing and the flames actually rolling up the hill. Quite a site.

http://www.ocregister.com/news/blaze-fire-firefighters-1789500-very-dry

When photo #2 was shot (right side of the page) I was standing right next to the photog. Pretty cool to see it in print.

Once the police made us scram I drove home, got on the Heckler and rode back up to watch the mop up. Talk about bored, my chick and I are still not seeing each other and my ride is cancelled.

I woke up this morning unmotivated. Cleaned the kitchen and did general pick up around the shack but don't feel the saddle. I need to kick my ass and get it done, but I'm having a hard time getting there. I should really just do a LSR (long slow ride) and be done with it. Maybe something in the stomach first will help.

I think I'm going to roll chorizo and egg burrito in a low fat tortilla with some green onions.

Lunch will be shrimp in a wok with green onion hunks and ginger.

Dinner.... I have no clue where I'm going with dinner. Something sexy and healthy since I'm flying solo yet again. I suck.

Back in the Saddle Again

2007-07-26T11:25:00.000-07:00

My ass hasn't seen any real time on a bike seat in over a year.

The excuses are many and some are pretty dramatic and big, but no matter what I woke up and here I am; fat and lazy with an ex girlfriend who just dumped me in a text message. Time to pedal it out.

The first day back I jumped on my bright blue Santa Cruz Heckler and clipped in. It felt odd. After a few pedal strokes the creaking started, both of bike and body. The whole picture of rider and machine were out of whack. My chain was dry, my bottom bracket moaned with every downward stroke, my seat creaked, my brakes rubbed and my knees hurt. What am I thinking? Why can't I just die fat of a heart attack like the rest of America? Noooo... I have to ride and lose weight. I suck.

I went a whopping seven miles of mostly flat or a slight grade and, while my ass hurt, it was good to be back out. Rolling in the garage I was soaked in sweat and tired, but relaxed. It felt kind of good, the ass hurting.

Today's weight: 259 (holy shit)
Today's mood: happy
Today's meal: homemade fresh sausage with eggs and milk

Goal weight: 220

I have to talk to my ex at some point today, we are setting up a therapy session for us next week. She calls all of the time but doesn't know if she wants to get together face to face. This pretty much kills, but what are you going to do. Suck it up, big boy, and pedal more.

Off to the shop, DMV and Verizon store for a good old fashioned day of stress.