How to rate a holiday party:

Fair.  Afterwards I walk to my car, pick up some dinner, and drive home.

Good.  Afterwards I stumble to the train, sleep it off on the way home, and come back in the morning for my car.

Excellent.  After five-too-many tequila shots, I get thrown out of the party and into a taxi, preferably into the arms of a cute red head, who takes me back to her place.

Last night's party rating:  Fair.

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Finally got around to watching the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame concert at Madison Square Garden. Some awesome performances and pairings (Jagger and Fergie, Bruce and Bono).  I've been a Jeff Beck fan since college.  One of the first albums I had on vinyl was "Orange," the Jeff Beck Group's self-titled album.  I've been listening to it tonight, for the first time in years, and it still rocks.  In honor of that, I humbly present the master in action -- Going Down.

06 Going Down

Jeff Beck Group

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I don't remember what precipitated this.  Maybe it was my client the other evening whose 20-something daughter had just returned from two years in Zambia (Peace Corps.).  She was describing her adventures there and the difficulties of working with people in cultures very different from our own.  She was articulate and passionate about her work.  And cute.  And then I realized I'm almost old enough to be her father.  I'm old, but not THAT old.  I still like to think of myself as relatively hip.  Far more so than my parents ever were.  And my grandparents -- they were the classic, "Hey you kids, get off my lawn!" types.  I'm not like that at all.  I think part of the secret is to remember what it's like to be young and do stupid things.  Even intentionally stupid things.  Like the time Jordan and I ran into the room where the synagogue board was about to meet and smashed all the pastries with the curtain rod.  Yes, it was childish and stupid, but we were laughing about it for a week afterwards.  In many ways, I'm still a kid and I think that helps keep me young, at least at heart.

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Feed me, fuck me, or just take me home.  It's been a long week.

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Sorry I haven't been around much. I've tried to at least lurk through my neighbor's posts occasionally, but it's been a busy summer.  Back in May I espoused two goals for myself for this year:  ride 1,000 on my bicycle and do a century ride.  Today I accomplished both of them.  Our local bike club held it's annual century ride, which I completed in about 7 hours.  This put me at 1,032 miles for the year, so I have to give myself big props.  I've been training very hard for this all summer and am so happy to have accomplished my goals.  Especially being A.D.D., it's hard for me to establish long-term goals and stick to them.

I know I keep saying this, but I'll try to post some more substantive things here eventually.  I've been doing a lot of Facebook, which is a great way to get stupid everyday things off my chest, but I'm not really posting anything substantive there.

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I found a great business -- Sarah's Smash Shack.  Pissed off at the ex?  Upset about losing a job?  Really hate Pat Robertson?  Here's a place you can vent your frustrations in a sound-proof room room.  Smash plates, glasses, wine bottles, anything you want, with music from your iPod playing in the background.  Therapists should co-op together and open one in every major city.

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Dear cat:

I'm very flattered that you love me so much you have to be near me all the time.  I appreciate the unconditional nature of your love and affection for me, but I really need to emphasize that I cannot sleep with you on my chest.  Yes, you're adorably cute when you stretch out your paws along my neck and put your head down, but your weight on my rib cage at night prevents me from getting a good nights' sleep.  Moving down to my stomach and sticking your ass in my face is not any better.  Doing the paw-paw thing on my stomach wakes me up, and gives me gas.  The best solution for both of us is for you to cuddle up against my side, where I promise to wrap my arm around you to keep you warm and occasionally pet you when I roll over in the middle of the night.

Love,

Your Human

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Fuck work.  I went for a bicycle ride.  It's 70 and sunny outside.  On days like this, it's a crime against nature to go into the office.  Had a delicious, cleansing, and emotionally satisfying ride.  NOW I'm ready for the world to dump on me.

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Guys (and you know who you are), when you're done using a public restroom, please please PLEASE for the love of Mike remember to flush.  It's really disgusting when I walk into the bathroom at Chipotle and there's not a clean bowl.  Did your mother raise you in the woods?  Have you no manners?  Flush, wash your hands, then be on your way.  It's not that hard.

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Yesterday was my dad's yartzeit (14 years now) and I feel like shit that I forgot.  I basically remembered, but kept forgetting to get the memorial candle.  Wife said she had one somewhere I could light this evening, but when I got home (after 10 pm) there was no candle in the kitchen.

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The weather's finally changing here, and summer is upon us.  No more days of 40 degrees, then 70 then next day, followed by 40 and rain for a few days, with another teaser to 70.  Now it's 60 to 70 all the way around.  I celebrated by dragging out the bicycle for a frantic ride Friday night, then again Saturday afternoon and Sunday afternoon.  I'm going to try for 1,000 miles this year.  Conservatively, that means I have 25 weeks of riding left this season, or 40 miles per week.  I think that's doable, and it would be a boost over last year's mileage.  I'd also like to do a Century.  My local riding club has one in the Fall, and I'm hoping to be in sufficient shape to attempt it.  Maybe going public with my goals will help spur me on.

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It may not be obvious on this photo, but if you look closely on the wall you'll see some hubcaps, about five floors off the ground.  No fucking idea how they got there, but they amused the hell out of me.  This was right across from my hotel.

Hub caps on a wall

Wandering around Chelsea on Saturday, some of the graffiti on the walls was pretty cool.  Some pretty young things also thought so and were stopping every 50 feet to take pictures of each other in front of various walls.  I got them mugging for each other.  They appeared to have recently escaped from a bachlorette party and were still drunk.  It was funny on so many levels.

Girls in a doorway

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