First off, I’ve just got to put something out there: Friends was a damn fine television program.
Some co-workers here were just using Friends as the punchline to a joke about how terrible TV comedies can be. I wasn’t part of the conversation, I was just eavesdropping. I have my headphones on almost always while I’m at work, but often times with nothing playing through them, so I can hear everything everybody talks about and I’m never obligated to contribute unless I want to, in which case I simply have to pretend to only have nabbed a word or two and could somebody please catch me up? They don’t know. They’ll never know. It’s my little secret. Now it’s our little secret.
Anyway, I could tell that they thought they were cool for making fun of something. Fair enough. I feel like the root of most comedy is a little mean spirited to somebody, so whatever. In this case though, I was having none of it. People chuckled at the joke and the conversation moved on, with nobody ever adding the obvious “Seriously, though, Friends was pretty good, right guys?” Instead, everyone just let that burn slide. Not a soul came to Friends’ rescue; nobody was willing to defend the defenseless. Cowards.
Except me, obviously. My excuse was ironclad. I couldn’t give up my spying game secret, now, could I? Maybe if the topic wandered to threats towards my immediate family, but anything short of that and this guy remains silent.
Getting back on topic, Friends was funny and Friends was good. Joey Tribbiani? Classic dude. Matthew Perry? Hilarious guy, fat and skinny, pre- and post-pill addiction. If you tell me you never got all hell of knee-slappin’ to an episode of that show, or teary-eyed when one of the couples broke up, then you are either lying, or you didn’t have a TV in the late 90s. Remember when Phoebe finally learned how Old Yeller ends, then watched a bunch of other tragic little kid movies and got mad depression? I rest my case.
Moving on! I have a cyclocross bike on the way. Singlespeed Speedvagen, the way the good lord intended it. The frame is all finished, and I believe (hope?) the surprise-me paint is being applied currently. Knowing that new-bike-day is hovering so close, yet still out of reach, makes many things in life difficult, like sleeping, working, and maintaining healthy relationships. I do get by, barely, though not without a near constant string of distractions, designed to make passing the hours a little more bearable. For one, I’m reading The Secret Race, and finding that it fills me with the desire to get really skinny and work on my leg veins. When I can’t read, I play Pokemon on my gameboy, and then I feel ashamed about it, and then I do it some more anyway.
The other task I’ve been filling my time with is making bike parts! Or bike part, if I’m honest. Part, parts… Who’s counting? Anyway, for as much crap as I design every day here at my job, it’s pretty rare and exciting for me to get to see the actual physical manifestation of my work. When it’s something by me, for me, it’s even better.
It’s a 41 tooth, in the style of my favorite old Campy and Suntour rings. 7075 Aluminum for the first two, to verify the geometry, then onto carbon. Should be liiiiight in carbon, and so fancy looking. Here’s to hoping it won’t just disintegrate under load…
And that’s how I stop myself from losing my mind while I wait for a bike! That, and Pokemon. And now probably some old episodes of Friends.
The Tiniest Sprinter
PS: I’m on a big Snoop “Bob Marley Reincarnated” Dogg kick right now, and it makes me feel like I need some Visine. Trying to pick just a couple videos is nearly impossible. That crip-walkin’ gangsta was in so many gems… Enjoy these two! As an added bonus, in the 2nd one you can see Dr. Dre sporting the Carrot Top “way-too-beefy-for-me-to-feel-comfortable-watching-you” look.
kids do the creepiest things