I got some stories for ya today, which I hope to break up into a few posts to ensure you've always got the hot shit to read.Thanks for the Break
Last night as I was dragging my sorry ass down Elm St at the end of my run, I had long given up on dodging puddles and just let them splash all over me. All of a sudden mine eyes met a puddle that was a foot deep if it was an inch. Trucks were throwing water halfway up onto the adjacent lawn; this puddle meant business.
Unfortunately for yours truly, the puddle stretched from the curb to almost the double-yellow lines so if there was any traffic I had to head for the lawn where I would surely be soaked. As luck would have it, there was a break in the traffic.
Seizing this moment to circumnavigate the puddle, I headed for the center of the street. Just then, my eyes met the headlights of an oncoming car and I could sense a challenge. I picked up the pace and from what I could tell, so did the driver of that car. As we closed the gap it became blatantly obvious that one of us was going to have to yield or I was going to be killed. Yield schmield, I kicked it up a notch.
Dropping the hammer, I accelerated to top speed and Jesus-stepped across the center of the puddle. If the driver was so inclined he still could have still caught the puddle and soaked the hell out of me, but he slowed as he approached the puddle letting me pass.
I appreciated that gesture and vowed to pay it forward.Paid in Full
This morning as I drove to work in the early morning fog, I made a turn onto a road known (by me) for it's juicy puddles. I swerved this way and that to make sure to hit all of them and as I accelerated towards the plumpest puddle I was able to make out the figure of a man walking on the sidewalk. The devil on my shoulder was yelling at me to go for it, but my good nature won in the end and I quickly side-stepped the puddle sparing the guy a mud bath.
What I should have done is gone back and told him to pay it forward. I could have soaked him but didn't, and the next time he faces such temptation I'd like him to take the righteous route.
Now that my debt is paid in full, I dare someone to walk next to a road pond. No, I double-dare them!
Over and Out,
Old Coot
P.S. I'd like to thank LB for his contribution to this post. While I was leaning toward "Jesus-Stepped" I had a few other options and he stepped up to the challenge. It was LB's unbiased opinion that sealed the deal on that phrase.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Pay it Forward
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Effin Aye
First I overslept a birthday run this morning, which are my favorite kind of run. First we run, then we eat breakfast, my favorite meal of the day. So favorite in fact, that today I ate breakfast while they ran, then met up for breakfast.Don't Cry Over Spilt Coffee
As I was getting nestled into my recliner in the afterglow of two breakfasts, I reached across my end table for a tissue for my leaky nostril when my arm gently brushed a picture frame. The picture frame folded and tipped over onto a coffee cup. The coffee cup fell off the pedestal on which I had set it (so as not to leave a ring on my table) and dumped coffee all over everywhere, most importantly on my poor rug that's been nothing but abused.
Mere seconds after I started sopping up the coffee, polluting the air with f-bombs and the like, my (landline) phone rang. Assuming it was my folks/sister/someone important I hustled to answer it. The answering machine picks up after two rings, so you can imagine the fury of hustling I had to go through.
When I finally answered the phone, the machine chimed in causing me to holler at the person on the other end to hold on whilst I stopped the machine. With that settled, I resumed the phone call. It was a poor student from my alma mater undoubtedly asking me for a donation. It was not her fault that I had spilled my coffee all over creation but when she asked if now was a good time for... I cut her off with "I just spilled my coffee all over my effin living room!!!". She took the hint and offered to call back another time.
After that mishap I had to get out of the house. I cleaned the rug as best as I could, knowing I'd never get all of the coffee out and that I can't even use a steam cleaner because it's wool and will shrink. I needed to clear my head, so I took off for the Lee Outlets in what would be a fruitless search for an argyle sweater vest.
Now I'm just blogging to kill time while Episode 2 of Season 2 of The Office buffers. Even though I gave up TV for Lent, this doesn't count. I knew ahead of time that it would be alright to watch episodes online, it's the hours of sitting in front of the tube that I'm Lenting against.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Saturday, March 10, 2007
You have GOT to be Kidding Me
Today was another one of our free days off, for which we pay dearly. However, I used it to get some things done and go skiing.Passport is in Process
Ab, you'll be happy to know that I stopped off at the Post Office today to apply for my United States Passport. In less than two months I should be able to leave the country and return whenever I want. Canada, here I come!CEL
Today I was driving up to Notchview for some cross country skiing. Before that, I had been driving all over town running errands and applying for passports. I'd estimate I had done somewhere on the order of an hour of driving, with layovers at Target and the P.O. As I approached Windsor my God damned Check Engine Light came back on again. It seriously has been off ever since I last went to Windsor. I'm really starting to think that it is prejudiced against Hill Folk.
Knowing that I had to drive to Albany and back later in the evening I was a little worried about the Check Engine Light being on. As I drove around picking everyone up the car must have determined that I was headed away from Windsor, and the light turned off. I think I'm gonna have to get an OBD II tester to settle this once and for all. Damn this light!
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Hitting the Town, Troy Style
Last night I went out to Albany with a few guys from the Hardware Crew at work, plus a guy who made the smart move to Boston in search of milk and honey. Our dining/pubbing expedition was not without incident.Shelby
Dinner started out at Red Robin, a hamburger joint in some town in the Albany area. There are a few and to be honest I have no idea where one town ends and another begins.
We had a brief wait, then were seated at a table to be served by an attractive young waitress named Shelby. That's three points in her favor from the get-go: attractive, young, cool name. She was friendly as waitresses tend to be outside of Berkshire County, and JO was all but certain she was dying to get to know me better. JO can sometimes be an unreliable source, as his main goal is to point out every girl in the place who isn't getting married at that minute and say "Dude, you should go hit on that girl."
Anyway, back to the story. At one point Shelby disappeared for a while, and when she returned told us that she had hurt her back and claimed to have been crying in the back. This of course prompted JO to tell me that I should offer to rub her back for her, which I'm sure was top on her list of things she wanted a customer to say to her. I declined. The rest of the night was dedicated to pointing out how I "so should have told her I was a masseuse", since she obviously made that up so I would hit on her. Right. This is what I get for hanging out with three guys in various states of non-singletude.Pee Diddy
The next stop was a bar in Troy called Ryan's Wake, which had nothing to do with a funeral. I forget what the word 'wake' means in this situation, but the bar is pretty cool. The nice part about it is that it's people more my age, instead of being a college bar or a bar for grannies. The unfortunate part about that is that it's full of dudes who have been going there for 15 years.
One such customer, who we nicknamed PD for Piss Drunk then later changed to Pee Diddy, was not having a good evening. My first introduction to said fellow was when JO yelled to me to "watch out, that guy's going down". I stepped aside and turned around in time to see two guys fully supporting their extremely hammered friend. Not only was he stumbling, he was not even conscious that I could tell.
They decided to transport him to the front of the place and presumably arrange for transportation. As they dragged him away, toes dragging like a beaten prisoner, I mine nostrils detected a distinct aroma. At first I thought he was throwing up, but it wasn't that sort of smell. Nope, it was the smell of piss.
When they had passed me, I looked over and not only had this poor sap pissed himself, but he had somehow managed to piss his own ass. I mean this guy was soaked from the belt down on the back of his pants. Now that my friends, is drunk.
Finally they wrangled him out the door to the sidewalk where we hoped an ambulance would be picking him up. Minutes later we saw a firetruck drive away, which could only have been brought in to hose the wizz off of him before they brought in the ambulance. Sure enough, they carted him off to the hospital. Pee Diddy was wrecked. As I type this, I'm wondering how long it'll be before he wakes up and how long he'll have to wait for his hangover to kick in. My money's on Tuesday.All By My-Sel el elllf
Then there was the guy who was at the bar all by himself. He was clearly alone, and clearly wearing a denim shirt. The denim shirt had clearly been in his closet long before the 2,000 beers settled in his gut, and the buttons were clearly earning their money. His head was covered by a backwards Mets hat that would be considered a throwback hat had it actually been made in the last few decades. In reality it was just wicked old. We watched him work the room with walrus-like precision. Not smooth, not classy.
So that's that. My Garmin navigator has been switched to the British girl's voice, and re-named Shelby in honor of our waitress. She performed flawlessly, guiding me to everyones house and then back to my own. Nicely done, Shelby.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Thursday, March 08, 2007
More Miles than Degrees
Last night I had the plan to do what's called in the industry "More Miles than Degrees". This is a running term, and as you may have guessed it involves running more miles than the temperature has degrees (F).Damn it's Cold
I posted the run with my normal (regular, but abnormal) crew and it was ill received. They offered to run some of it, but I was on my own for basically the second half.
We met up at someone's house for an easy hour-fifteen. With bullshitting, shoe-tying, headlamp adjusting and post-run bullshitting this turned into about 5 miles and change. We stood around for a bit afterward discussing runs for the rest of the week while my body temp returned to frozen solid.
At this point everyone returned to their respective cars with their heated seats and climate controlled driving cockpits, and I affixed my (soon-to-be-defunct) iPod to my hip and headed for home. They all looked on in disbelief as I trotted down the frigid road happily singing along to some Dave Matthews Band.
As you might imagine, people don't expect to see Lycra-clad dudes wearing headlamps to be running down the street. Armed with that knowledge I had to pay extra attention to traffic, while also paying extra attention to the ice on the shoulder of the road. A few times I was forced off the road in what became a fun game of mountain-goating over snow piles.
The snowpiles had thawed last weekend and then frozen extra solid this week. This made for enjoyable mountaineering when I needed to get out of the road. I would simply run up and over ten-foot high snowpiles like they were piles of rock. I even got a "Good looks, son" from a thug, and a honk-and-holler from a car full of hood-rat chicks.
Big ups to me!
Oh, in case you were wondering I did run more miles than degrees. WHAT!
Well, I have to take off. The Thursday Night Run is in an hour and I have to feed the Hungry Hungry Kittens. Peace in the Northeast.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
