Flotsam: September 2008 Archives

Yeah, I pulled yesterday's post down. Sorry folks - sometimes I get bean-spiller's remorse. There's not even any logic to it. I read it and read it, and read it again, and couldn't find anything wrong with it (apart from a slight tendency to bitch) (though that doesn't normally stop me from putting a post out there), and yet still I didn't feel like sharing. Whaddya gonna do?

Nofink, as Basher would say.

Having a better day today, even though my new bike is still seventeen-eighteenths built and therefore in my bike shop as opposed to my living room being admired by all and sundry (better known as: me and the cat). But that's okay. I had a relatively good ride today on my main man, despite having needed to zip through midtown due to not having left enough time to get where I was going by my preferred outerboroughular route.

Yes, I made that word up. It's okay, folks, I'm a professional. (Writer, that is.)

Anyhoo, sun shining, fun with Big Trux in Chelsea (which sounds like stage-names for a pair of gay-bar bouncers but actually refers to impatient and slightly scary drivers of delivery trucks). Alles gutes, basically.

Rode home with some messenger friends, playing swoopy games on the bridge, and feeling about 6 years old doing so. Good clean fun.

The cat is currently obliging me by snoozing on a pile of greasy bike rags, which I find just so heartwarming for some reason.

PS. You know what it was? Oversharing about a certain lanky blonde. I'd like to keep some things to myself, after all.

This weekend's tally.

New tattoos: one.
Bike rides: three (including the one to/from the tattoo studio).
Boys flirted with: four.
Age range of boys flirted with: 23-47
Gummi bears consumed: one whole bag during tattoo, plus one chocolate-covered bear during today's movie.
People possibly flashed while riding bike from brunch parking space to movie parking space: approximately 100 (long story; short dress).
Bike parts waiting in my box to be built into a new bike: impossible to count.
Dollars spent on said bike parts: too intimidating to count.
Advil tablets consumed before and after tattoo: six.
Lascivious notes left on my bike by my favorite redhead: one.
Near misses with blonde: two (I was in his hood and invited him out; he was busy. He was in my hood and invited me out; I was busy).
Secret fantasies confessed to, to one of the key players: one - but it was a biggie.
Pairs of pirate leggings purchased without trying them on: two (one by me, and one by Special J).
(No, my new tattoo is not of a skull.)

All in all, a busy weekend.