Ups For Daisy

So there’s this chick in the Bay Area named Daisy and she has a blog called Oopsie Daisy. I can’t remember whose blog I was reading and how it led me to her blog, but since my first visit, Oopsie Daisy was added to my favorites. I don’t read it a lot (and for the record I don’t even know what she looks like). Every couple of weeks I check it out and every time I do, I’m not disappointed. She possesses a sharp tongue, quick wit, and a rare sense of reality AND she puts my blog and most everyone else’s to shame. Not only that, she’s brilliant. Probably drinks too much, but still – brilliant. Cases in point; here are a few excerpts

"I was exhausted, starving, and in desperate need of a hug. Of course, you all know by now that when I say "a hug," clearly I mean "a beer."

"Ah, to be living proof that you can send your kid to the most expensive private schools in the city... Only to have to turn around and spend even MORE money on a Mormon reform school with alarms on the doors and solitary confinement rooms the size of a mattress."

"And to be honest though I do love bringing seemingly innocuous conversations to a screeching halt."

"She did give me a $6 credit for the inconvenience though. Which I am obviously going to use on a pie cookbook so that if and when she does show up at my building to investigate why it's full of curmudgeons who don't share, I have something to throw in her face."

"Which of course, the train immediately lurched, throwing me off balance. And how exactly did I steady myself? By reaching my hand out and grabbing a lesbian's ass. Hard. I excused myself with some lame joke about how no one should have to be felt up before 8:20 a.m., but to be honest; I will be extremely disappointed if she doesn't "missed connection" me later on Craigslist. I mean, if I can do anything well, ass-grabbing is it."

Anyway, I think you get the idea. I remember when I once had that youthful, intriguing, and uproarious literary zest.


Now back to my crappy blog about bikes

Here's me suffering at the cross race last weekend.


Here's me hating life at the cross race last weekend.


Here's (left to right) me, Ryder, & my dad after the cross race last weekend.

Aside from all the pain, suffering, sand, salt water, & me sucking at the cross race last weekend, it was really cool to have Ryder and my parents there. Every time I galloped over the barriers (no tripping this time) and hoofed it up the run-up, I could hear the ringing of Ryder's cowbell and accompanied by his joyous screams of, "Go daddy! Go daddy!" There's nothing crappy about that.