Hey Leonardo

I am at the Mothership this week, and today I went to Starbucks with a couple work buds... On the way back, we heard "Hey Leonardo (She Likes Me for Me)" by Blessid Union of Souls on the radio. This is the best line: "...she's phat like Cindy Crawford."

Goodness, this song brought nostalgic feelings of #2.

She don't care about my car
She don't care about my money
And that's real good because I don't got alot to spend
But if I did it wouldn't mean nothin'

She likes me for me
Not because I look like Tyson Beckford
With the charm of Robert Redford
Oozing out my ears
But what she sees
Are my faults and indecisions
My insecure conditions
And the tears upon the pillow that I shed

She don't care about my big screen
Or my collection of DVD's
Things like that just never mattered much to her
Plus she don't watch to much t.v.

And she don't care that I can fly her
To places she ain't never been
But if she really wants to go
I think deep down she knows that
All she has to say is when

She likes me for me
Not because I hang with Leonardo
Or that guy who played in "Fargo"
I think his name is Steve
She's the one for me
And I just can't live without her
My arms belong around her
And I'm so glad I found her once again

And I'm so glad I found her once again
And I'm so glad I found her once again
Gazing at the ceiling
as we entertain our feelings in the dark
The things that we're afraid of are gonna show us
what we're made of in the end

She likes me for me
Not because I sing like Pavarotti
Or because I am such a hottie
I like her for her
Not because she's phat like Cindy Crawford
She has got so much to offer
Why does she waste all her time with me
There must be something there that I don't see

She likes me for me
Not because I'm tough like Dirty Hairy
Make her laugh just like Jim Carrey
Unlike the Cable Guy
But what she sees
Is that I can't live without her
My arms belong around her
And I'm so glad I found her once again
Found her once again
I'm so glad I found her once again
On again

(G'damn) SM PD

So...

Sooo!!

So, tonight, I went to McGoo's farewell/b'day party at Kingfish in San Mateo. I arrived late because I did not receive the evite, but rather the text last week from McGoo that said, "come to the house on saturday at 7." Whatever, tonight, I drove past the now vacant house at around 9:00 p.m., and all the lights were off. So, I headed up to the city.

At around 10:15 p.m., McGoo calls. "Dude, where are you? Come to Kingfish in San Mateo. We have the entire bottom floor. Sujai and Anthony are here." Me: "Dude, I rolled past the house in B'game. All the lights were off. OK, I'll head over."

I arrive at Kingfish at around 10:45 p.m., and head downstairs to the "private event." I see AP, Bartolo and a few others. After chatting with a few peeps, McGoo introduced me to John Grosfeld, a guy I used to talk with when I was back at the Edelclan. He sells speaking opportunities for vendor executives to speak their mind at certain industry events. Good guy.

At any rate, I had a glass of cab. After a few minutes...

I had another glass of cab. And after a few more minutes...

I had another glass of cab. And after a few more minutes...

Yeah, I had another glass of cab.

At around 12:15 a.m., we exited the restaurant. We said our goodbyes, and I got into my car. I felt fine, despite the rain.

No more than driving three blocks, I see the Po Po lights. Mutherfukka!

I handed my license and registration as asked. I got out of my car as asked.

And then the battery of "are you a drunk muthafukka" test...

"Have you had anything to drink tonight"? (I answered "yes," two big glasses of wine.)

"What did you have to eat today"? (A Cliffbar for breakfast, soup and noodles of lunch, and a fairly big dinner.)

"What time did you start drinking"? (8:00 p.m.)

I aced the test of following the officer's pen... Left, right, center, away, close.

I aced the test of bringing my feet together, hands at my side, eyes closed, looking up, and reciting the ABCs from A to Z at a healthy clip.

I aced the test of balancing on one foot, with my right foot extended forward, looking at my right foot, with hands at my side, and reciting the ABCs from A to Z at a healthy clip.

I aced the walking test - walking eight heal-to-top steps forward, turn around, and walk six heal-to-toe steps.

I aced the writing test - writing the first half of the English alphabet on the top half of an index card, and the second half of the English alphabet on the bottom half, with my signature and date at the very bottom. I remember the officer's question: "Do you know the English alphabet"? I bit my tongue, and decided to not be a smart ass. Being a smart ass in this situation really meant being a dumb ass.

After the writing test, another cruiser pulled up with a breathalyzer test. I was giving the option to forgo the test, but if I passed on the test, then the officer would make his decision based on my performance on the battery of tests. (Again, I aced them.) I didn't want to risk that.

Feeling confident, I took the breathalyzer test. I came in just below the legal limit.

"Without looking at your watch, can you tell me what time is it"? (Officer, I do not wear a watch, but I'd say it is approximately 12:45 a.m.)

"Can you tell me today's date"? (Technically, it is Sunday, February 11.)

I told the officer (who I swear wanted to find some reason to book me) that I'd park my car, and walk to Jack in the Box for food. He said that is a good idea, and that I was legal to drive, but I'm on the border.

That's right, muthafukka. Don't fuk with E-Double!

To this day, I have not had a positive experience with a cops. (I've been profiled, stopped for racial issues, etc.) I imagine the day will come when I hook up with one, but until then, I do not care for cops.

Training Ride #3

Last weekend, Meta04 and I rode what was our longest training ride to date. Known as the Presidio to Fairfax ride, we rode nearly 40 miles with approximately 20 other riders who are riding in AIDS/LifeCycle 6.

The morning started bad. When we arrived at Sports Basement in The Presidio, we stretched, and pumped air in our tires. I pumped air, using my mini pump, when a recent transplant from Montana asked, "Hey, do you want to use a real pump." I said, "No - I'm grand, but thanks." 30 seconds later, he walked to us with his pump.

Screw it, I'll use his pump. And I did. And I pumped too much air into my front tire that it popped. That is what happens when you attempt to pump more than the stated maximum PSI (112 PSI). Our ears rang for a couple minutes.

I walked to Sports Basement to purchase a replacement tube, as well as a couple extra just in case. After changing the tube, we were in great shape to start the ride. We met the other riders at the store entrance, and set off for Fairfax.

On our ride from Fairfax back to San Francisco, all was well until we saw some riders from our group pulled over on the side of the road. I was riding in the last position in a group of six cyclists. I turned my head for no more than two seconds to view the casualty of the riders on the side of the road when I turned to look forward and quickly realized that I was about to become a casualty.

"OH SHIT!!!" I yelled as I slammed into Meta04. It hurt. Damn, it hurt. My right foot was caught in the spokes of Meta04's rear wheel. My right shin was hurtin' for certain. My nuts slammed into my handlebar. I cut some skin on my right elbow and knee. I hurt. I lied there for 30 seconds after the impact, laughing, and wanting to recoup from the accident.

Many riders immediately came to both Meta04 and me, and offered help. One rider asked, "Aside from your pride, is there anything that hurts?" I said, "Screw it, F pride ride now. I have no shame. I'm fine. I just want to lay here for a sec."

The people riding in front of our six-person group apologized for stopping abruptly and not calling out her intention to stop. Oh well. It's not a ride unless someone bails hardcore.

The remainder of the ride back to San Francisco was fine. I can climb hills easier now that I take a spinning class once or twice a week. And once you make it to the top of a hill, down is the only way you can go. I love downhill cruising. It make the climb oh so worth it.

LOG
Distance: 40 miles
Locations: Presidio, Golden Gate Bridge, Sausalito, Almonte, Corte Madera, Larkspur, Greenbrae, Kentfield, Ross, San Anselmo, Fairfax

Lipstick and Pepsi Cans (sung to the tune of "Incense and Peppermint")

I remember two segments from my dreams earlier this week:

Dream #1. I helped my sister get ready for a party by applying lipstick on her lips. In real life, my sister, 17, does not wear lipstick. And over the years, I have watched enough women apply lipstick, so I'd like to say that I know what I was doing, even if it was in my dream. At any rate, in my dream, I saw my sister walk into the kitchen, and her lipstick job looked somewhat crooked and sloppy. I wiped the lipstick; applied an outline around her lips, and filled the rest in. Then I said she should blot it so it does not look to shiny.

Yeah, this was bizarre.

Dream #2. AMarc and I stood in a wheat field, where randomly or strategically, a pipe emerged from the ground. From his coat pocket, he produced a can of Pepsi with a threaded top. He said, "This is the future of including soda in the diet of the American people. Since soda was found to not be a healthy drink option, the manufacturers need a way to infuse their product into the American people's diet."

I forget what my reaction to his statement was in the dream. And I can not say what my reaction would be in real-life since the situation is too bizarre.