Being the Past

I used to be a non-drinker.
Now I'm a craft drinker.
We can't have more than 3 beers in a sitting without being sloshed. And it really isn't enjoyable to do that anyway.
I'm in Santa Cruz, which is where I like to get my Sparky's Root Beer. I didn't get any this Thanksgiving though, which is fine. I can't taste it anyway, I've somehow gotten sick.

Impossible.

I did have my favorite type of cheese though. Huntsman.
I wish I could tell you it was delicious, but I could hardly taste it.

Bummer.

I had to rip it over to the post office down here in S.C. on Wednesday for some reason. I did that on my Dad's old Raleigh hybrid bike. Aside from the first generation male relief saddle, which is broken, and the completely wrong position of the seat, the ride was pretty fun.

Any helmet-less ride has a little adventure to it -I grew up with bikes and helmets being inseparable objects. I can't wear the helmets here, too small for my knobby head. And I don't wear a helmet on my cruiser because, hey -uncool.

You can really bully the cars around here in Santa Cruz. And they seem to be fine with it over all. In Eugene you follow the letter of the law and people yell at you, which is why there should always be at least five vulgarities just about to burst forth from your person.

My favorite has always been "Suck my dick" for a few reasons. One of which is that I find it homophobic, pretty offensive, and a humorous thing to say to someone you are angry at.

"Fuck you" is a pretty good staple phrase. Your bread and butter curse.
I once championed this word on a middle-schooler leaning out of his mom's station wagon.

For those of you not aggressive enough on your bike here are some suggestions:
How about the loogie?
Try a finger!
You can always smash your fist on their side-panels.
A smile. (Must be insincere.)

I hope some of my many readers try one of these out this holiday season.