May 25, 2000

the things i do for you people.
So, as you may have noticed (or not, hell, I don't know), there are actually pictures of me on the bike now. Huzzah! Peter whipped out his digital camera the other night before we went riding, and now there is proof that I not only own a bike, but have been known to occasionally sit on it.

Since I hate myself, I decided to spend THREE HOURS downloading Adobe's Photoshop "tryout" version (read: too cheap to buy the software and too lazy to pirate it) and muck around with some of said pictures. I am a Photoshop retard. It's actually pretty impressive. I can rotate a picture, and save it, and that's about it. So I marched over to Ofir's cube, as Ofir is a Graphic Design Guru. "Help," said I, and he showed me magical, mystical things like creating a background layer, using the eraser, and even "outer glow." Oooh! So I went back to my office, busted out my free "tryout version" of Photoshop, and played around. Lo! I created a wonderful masterpiece! It exceeded even my own pitiful expectations! I went to save it, to upload it, to share my marvels with the universe! "Beep," said my computer. "The 'save' option is not activated with this tryout version. See to purchase the full version." No shit! The damn thing let me waste 2 hours playing with this picture, and then there was no fucking way to save it! A pox on you, Adobe. A pox.

motocross 2000, here i come.
Last night, Peter and I took our very first bike ride together that actually had some sort of destination in mind. For the past few days, we've been meeting at his house after work, and then drive aimlessly around the neighborhood together for an hour or so. Last night, though, we were getting our gear on, and I said, "Let's go to the park!" So we drove the 5 blocks or so to the park near Peter's house, parked the bikes in the parking lot, played on the playground and swung on the swings a bit. It was so cute! There were our two bikes, parked next to each other, chillin' in the parking lot. When we were getting back on the bikes, an elderly couple strolling past even smiled benevolently upon us! Norman Rockwell has nothin' on me, man.

Unfortunately, I parked like a tard in the lot, and therefore had to do the dreaded Short Person Backwards Waddle in order to get out of the spot. I admit, I neglected the teachings of the Short Biker's List FAQ and did not think about where I was parking, nor -- more importantly -- how I was going to get out of the spot. So Peter and his tall ass had to wait for me to waddle backwards out of the spot, looking sort of like a bent-over penguin backing out of a box or something. What made it even more special was that the lot was sloped downhill, so once I started waddling backwards, gravity grabbed on and started pulling me backwards even faster. It took me probably 5 minutes to get myself out of this parking spot. I am a tard.

i love to give money to the ducati dealer.
I maintain that my utter downfall in life is that fact that I live about a half-mile from a Honda/Ducati dealer. This is a huge problem, because every time that I need anything -- helmet, gloves, tank bag, spare parts -- I think to myself, "oh crap, I forgot to go find the used bikes store again, I guess I'll just stop at the Ducati place on my way home." The Ducati people must throw a party every time I walk in, because I always buy something. The price I pay for convenience, I guess.

So, anyways, it's beginning to annoy me that the end of the hand brake lever is broken off (thanks to the one and only time that I dropped the bike on the right-hand side). It's also beginning to annoy me that the clutch lever is bent slightly (also thanks to dropping it). So. Do I call the used bike store? Do I go to the used bike store? Hell no. I call the Ducati dealer. I can almost hear the parts guy laughing at me over the phone as he quotes me prices for the three parts (I'm also getting a spare shift lever, since mine has been pried out from under the crankcase a couple of times). *sigh* I am the Ducati dealer's bitch. I accept this.

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