matthearn.com

There’s a thing that’s been floating around Facebook like some kind of social disease wherein everyone goes down a list of movies and checks off the ones they’ve seen. I tend to ignore most Facebook crap (I’m currently 0 for 4,374 on “signing up for stupid applications that people have invited me to”), but this one was so wildly popular that I felt I needed to get in the top floor!

(Note: I am aware that the idiom is “ground floor.” The humor relies on the fact that I’m getting in on this just as it becomes spectacularly unpopular; my participation therein is probably causal. Just wanted you, the reader, to understand my “humor.”)

Supposedly, if you have seen more than 85 of these movies, you are some kind of “movie dork.” Let’s see where I place. My comments are hellatalicized.

(X) Rocky Horror Picture Show – Unfortunately. The best thing about this movie was Susan Sarandon, and I’m going on record to say I’d rather hump a sap hole in a maple tree.
(X) Grease – I hate this movie so much that my testes just completely retracted into my torso.
(X) Pirates of the Caribbean
( ) Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man’s Chest
( ) Boondock Saints
(X) Fight Club
(X) Starsky and Hutch
(X) Neverending Story – Why isn’t this ever on TBS? This movie was so awesome back in the 80s. I’m sure it holds up fine! Right? Right? (Note: I may be the only person in my generation to own and have read the original book, which is SPECTACULAR.)
(X) Blazing Saddles
(X) Airplane

Total: 8

(X) The Princess Bride – Just watched this a few weeks ago. Fantastic. Still holds up.
(X) Anchorman – Also rad.
(X) Napoleon Dynamite – Man, this is like a turkey! (When you bowl three strikes in a row. Because the last three movies are so awesome. Get it? No? You know what? You suck.)
(X) Labyrinth – Hambone!
( ) Saw
( ) Saw II
( ) White Noise
( ) White Oleander
( ) Anger Management
( ) 50 First Dates
( ) The Princess Diaries
( ) The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement – They lost me on the last eight in a row. I wouldn’t watch “White Oleander” if you tied my dingaling to a doorknob.

Total so far: 12

(X) Scream
( ) Scream 2
( ) Scream 3
(X) Scary Movie
(X) Scary Movie 2
( ) Scary Movie 3
( ) Scary Movie 4
(X) American Pie
(X) American Pie 2
( ) American Wedding
( ) American Pie Band Camp

Total so far: 17 – The theme here seems to be: did you like the original? It was okay. Did you see the sequel? What am I, stupid? If you’ve seen “Scream” then you’ve seen Scream 2 and 3. Because the plot is identical. And since nobody gets naked, sadly, I’m out.

( ) Harry Potter 1
( ) Harry Potter 2
( ) Harry Potter 3
( ) Harry Potter 4
( ) Resident Evil 1
( ) Resident Evil 2
(X) The Wedding Singer
( ) Little Black Book
( ) The Village
( ) Lilo & Stitch

Total so far: 18 – With a certain amount of pride, I can report that I have seen no Harry Potter movies, and read no Harry Potter books. I have seen my share of Harry Potter slashfic, but that’s not a topic for a Family Blog.

( ) Finding Nemo
( ) Finding Neverland
( ) Signs
( ) The Grinch
( ) Texas Chainsaw Massacre
( ) Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning
( ) White Chicks
(X) Butterfly Effect
( ) 13 Going on 30
( ) I, Robot
( ) Robots

Total so far: 19 – I saw part of Butterfly Effect; probably like 2/3. I’m saying that counts, since I saw the end and then googled the parts I missed.

(X) Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story
( ) Universal Soldier
( ) Lemony Snicket: A Series Of Unfortunate Events
(X) Along Came Polly
(X) Deep Impact
(X) KingPin – Wildly underrated. Randy Quaid takes a dump in a urinal! Priceless.
( ) Never Been Kissed
(X) Meet The Parents
( ) Meet the Fockers
( ) Eight Crazy Nights
( ) Joe Dirt
( ) KING KONG

Total so far: 24 – So far I seem to be at about 50% of the average. This is because I don’t really watch movies. Not least because I hate movie theaters, but also because the number of times in a given year that I have 2 hours to waste can be counted on one hand.

( ) A Cinderella Story
( ) The Terminal
( ) The Lizzie McGuire Movie
( ) Passport to Paris
(X) Dumb & Dumber
( ) Dumber & Dumberer
( ) Final Destination
( ) Final Destination 2
( ) Final Destination 3
( ) Halloween
(X) The Ring
( ) The Ring 2
( ) Surviving X-MAS
( ) Flubber

Total so far: 26 – Some of these I’ve not even HEARD of. And the only Flubber I saw was “Son of Flubber,” the sequel to “The Absent-Minded Professor,” both starring Fred MacMurray. I don’t believe it counts.

(X) Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle – BRILLIANT.
( ) Practical Magic
(X) Chicago
( ) Ghost Ship
(X) From Hell
( ) Hellboy
( ) Secret Window
( ) I Am Sam
( ) The Whole Nine Yards
( ) The Whole Ten Yards

Total so far: 29 – I’ve seen the last 15 minutes of Hellboy roughly 7 times. I guess that doesn’t count, because I spend the entire time asking HW, “What the hell is going on?” and she responds “Stop fricking poking me, I’m trying to sleep.”

(X) The Day After Tomorrow
(X) Child’s Play
( ) Seed of Chucky
( ) Bride of Chucky
( ) Ten Things I Hate About You
( ) Just Married
( ) Gothika
( ) Nightmare on Elm Street
( ) Sixteen Candles
( ) Remember the Titans
( ) Coach Carter
( ) The Grudge
( ) The Grudge 2
(X) The Mask
( ) Son Of The Mask

Total so far: 32 – I may have seen Child’s Play and Sixteen Candles and Nightmare on Elm Street all the way through; I just don’t remember. I’m gonna mark Child’s Play and give myself partial credit.

( ) Bad Boys
( ) Bad Boys 2
( ) Joy Ride
( ) Lucky Number Slevin
(X) Ocean’s Eleven
(X) Ocean’s Twelve
( ) Bourne Identity
( ) Bourne Supremecy
( ) Lone Star
( ) Bedazzled
( ) Predator I
( ) Predator II
( ) The Fog
(X) Ice Age
( ) Ice Age 2: The Meltdown
( ) Curious George

Total so far: 35 – The Ocean’s Etc. films always slay me. I think I watched Ice Age all the way through; if not, I definitely saw at least 30 minutes of one of the Bourne movies. Plus I read all the books. It evens out, people, c’mon.

(X) Independence Day
( ) Cujo
( ) A Bronx Tale
( ) Darkness Falls
( ) Christine
(X) ET – The first movie I ever saw in the theater! Do I get double credit? No? Screw you, then.
( ) Children of the Corn
( ) My Boss’s Daughter
( ) Maid in Manhattan
( ) War of the Worlds
(X) Rush Hour
(X) Rush Hour 2

Total so far: 39 – It’s worth noting that I have FAR less than half of the average Joe to this point.

( ) Best Bet
( ) How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days
( ) She’s All That
( ) Calendar Girls
( ) Sideways
( ) Mars Attacks
( ) Event Horizon
( ) Ever After
(X) Wizard of Oz
(X) Forrest Gump
( ) Big Trouble in Little China
(X) The Terminator
(X) The Terminator 2
(X) The Terminator 3

Total so far: 44 – Let’s just say I don’t own any of these on DVD.

( ) X-Men
( ) X-2
( ) X-3
(X) Spider-Man
( ) Spider-Man 2
( ) Sky High
( ) Jeepers Creepers
( ) Jeepers Creepers 2
( ) Catch Me If You Can
(X) The Little Mermaid
( ) Freaky Friday
( ) Reign of Fire
( ) The Skulls
(X) Cruel Intentions – I watched this entire movie hoping either Sarah Michelle Gellar or Reese Witherspoon would get naked, and neither of them did. We did get treated to a boob shot of the hideous girl, though. Thanks. <SARCASM>Made it all worthwhile.</SARCASM>
( ) Cruel Intentions 2
( ) The Hot Chick
(X) Shrek
( ) Shrek 2

Total so far: 48

( ) Swimfan – I watched up until the hot chick gets busy with the guy in the pool, and then went to sleep. Does that count?
( ) Miracle on 34th street
(X) Old School
( ) The Notebook
( ) K-Pax
( ) Krippendorf’s Tribe
( ) A Walk to Remember – I watched a little of this with my wife, but then I started menstruating.
( ) Ice Castles
( ) Boogeyman
(x) The 40-year-old Virgin

Total so far: 50

( ) Lord of the Rings Fellowship of the Ring
( ) Lord of the Rings The Two Towers
( ) Lord of the Rings Return Of the King – Watched the Battle of Helm’s Deep. Couldn’t care less about anything not involving immediate elven bloodshed.
(X) Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark
(X) Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
(X) Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

Total so far: 53 – Nothing but love for Indy. Haven’t seen the fourth, though. Worried that it’s lame. Is it lame? Wait, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.

(X) Baseketball
( ) Hostel
(X) Waiting for Guffman
( ) House of 1000 Corpses
( ) Devils Rejects
( ) Elf
( ) Highlander
( ) Mothman Prophecies
( ) American History X
( ) Three

Total so Far: 55 – It’s well-documented that “Waiting For Guffman” may be the best movie in the 20th century to not earn a single Oscar nomination.

( ) The Jacket
( ) Kung Fu Hustle
( ) Shaolin Soccer
( ) Night Watch
( ) Monsters Inc.
(X) Titanic
(X) Monty Python and the Holy Grail
(X) Shaun Of the Dead
( ) Willard

Total so far: 58 – Much love for Grail and Shaun. Much hate for Titanic, although at least Leo dies and you get to see Kate’s hooters. I change my mind: a small, but measurable, amount of love for Titanic.

( ) High Tension
( ) Club Dread
( ) Hulk
( ) Dawn Of the Dead
(X) Hook
( ) Chronicles Of Narnia The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe
( ) 28 days later
( ) Orgazmo – Ain’t seen it, but am profoundly curious about it!
( ) Phantasm
( ) Waterworld

Total so far: 59

( ) Kill Bill vol 1 – Would love to see this; saw the first 20 minutes or so the other night on TBS or something, but fell asleep. It was late. Anyway, can’t watch it during any hours Charles is awake because I don’t need him learning how to throw knives at people.
( ) Kill Bill vol 2
(X) Mortal Kombat – I just like that the guy that played Johnny Whatever went on to play a guy on Days of Our Lives for a while. Mighta been killed off, though.
( ) Wolf Creek
( ) Kingdom of Heaven
( ) the Hills Have Eyes
( ) I Spit on Your Grave aka the Day of the Woman – This sounds like a quality film in every way.
( ) The Last House on the Left
( ) Re-Animator
( ) Army of Darkness

Total so far: 60

(X) Star Wars Ep. I The Phantom Menace
(X) Star Wars Ep. II Attack of the Clones
(X) Star Wars Ep. III Revenge of the Sith
(X) Star Wars Ep. IV A New Hope
(X) Star Wars Ep. V The Empire Strikes Back
(X) Star Wars Ep. VI Return of the Jedi
( ) Ewoks Caravan Of Courage
( ) Ewoks The Battle For Endor
Total so far: 66 – Wow, I’ve seen most of the Star Wars movies. Scary thought.

(X) The Matrix
(X) The Matrix Reloaded
(X) The Matrix Revolutions
( ) Animatrix
(X) Evil Dead
( ) Evil Dead 2
(X) Team America: World Police – I’m not proud of having seen this.
( ) Red Dragon
(X) Silence of the Lambs
( ) Hannibal

Total: 72

The average is north of a hundo. Wow, I haven’t seen very many movies. I do not consider this much of a failing. Tomorrow: I don’t like Jonas Brothers. Also: get the hell off my lawn!

Most of my readers (meaning both of them) are probably thoroughly aware of Newsweek’s article, by Lisa Miller, on the religious arguments for and against gay marriage, but on the off chance you missed it, click here. It does a particularly good job of summing up and discarding the conservative religious arguments against same-sex matrimony, so it’s useful information if you find yourself in an argument with a homophobic religious nut. A few salient quotes:

Most of us no longer heed Leviticus on haircuts or blood sacrifices; our modern understanding of the world has surpassed its prescriptions. Why would we regard its condemnation of homosexuality with more seriousness than we regard its advice, which is far lengthier, on the best price to pay for a slave?

and

Religious objections to gay marriage are rooted not in the Bible at all, then, but in custom and tradition (and, to talk turkey for a minute, a personal discomfort with gay sex that transcends theological argument).

As Insty would say, read the whole thing.

UPDATE: More here.

A few tidbits:

• I wish I hadn’t spent $200+ dollars on “Party Pigs” for my beer because, frankly, they suck. They’re a nice a idea, because bottling beer is a huge hassle and I have a life to live, people, but unfortunately they don’t live up to the hype. They just don’t dispense beer very well. It starts out really, really foamy (like a real keg would), which I can live with, except that before the thing is even 1/2 empty it starts dispensing insanely slowly. Seriously, filling a pint glass takes so long you could time it with a calendar. The reason, as far as I can tell, is the expanding CO2 pouch inside starts blocking the spout, and there’s not a lot you can do about it aside from just taking the thing apart, which you can’t do without losing the beer (the pressure makes it go all over the place). For 40 bones a keg, I’d like to think I could get more than 2 beers out of it that weren’t absolute foam, you know? Weak.
• Charles is very fond of a TV show called “Caillou“, featuring a little whiny bald boy. It’s a pretty lame show, but Charles loves it; it’s full of crap wherein Caillou is afraid to go down the slide, but his mommy helps him, or Caillou is afraid of Santa Claus, but Santa turns out to be cool and likes Caillou’s drawing (when a real mall Santa would be half in the bag and have no time for smarmy baldies). The parents are astoundingly patient; when they ask Caillou to do something and he whines “But I don’t want to!” they commiserate and work out some kind of compromise, when any decent parent would just lightly backhand the brat and say “Just do it before I make you bleed.”

  Why he’s bald is never explained, so Sarah and I have developed this enormous backstory centered on our belief that he has leukemia and they just don’t want to actually cover it. Anyway, as an example of the horrible, horrible things my wife and I can think up: Charles was watching the show, and Sarah and I were at the dining room table. I looked at the TV and noticed that Caillou’s mom looked a little thick, so I said,

  “I think Caillou’s mom is pregnant.”

  To which Sarah replied, “Yeah…you know they need that marrow.”

  We laughed for a good 5 minutes, and then discussed whether that was going to get us into hell, or if the decision had been made years ago.

“[Man] had built empires of scientific capability to manipulate the phenomena of nature into enormous manifestations of his own dreams of power and wealth — but for this he had exchanged an empire of understanding of equal magnitude: an understanding of what it is to be a part of the world, and not an enemy of it.” – Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Is it just me, or is the presidential campaign, and the coverage thereof, somewhat weakened by the fact that nobody knows how to properly refer to the candidates and affiliated politicians?

Every time I read a headline saying “BUSH BLAH BLAH BLAH” or “PALIN BLAH BLAH BLAH,” I think to myself, you know, these people hold important offices. They may be douchebags, but the office itself merits our respect. Why are they not referred to as President Bush and Governor Palin whenever they’re mentioned? It may just be me, but I have a really hard time taking any pundit seriously when he refers to a United States Senator as simply “Biden.”

I’m guessing it’s just me.

Despite my success in the bike ride a few weeks ago, I’m still having difficulty with my staggering bulk; I hit 250 pounds again, and decided it was time to Rectify That Problem. So I’ve been eating nothing but meat and cheese (and the occasional glass of vodka while we were at the beach), and as a result have lost 6 pounds in about 4 weeks. I’m hoping to shed a good bit more by Thanksgiving, at which time I intend to gain it all back over a period of 8 days.

To that end, I’ve been making beer like Sam Adams’s fat drunk brother-in-law. I have a Guinness-like “Irish Stout” already in the keg and bottles, and am fermenting a batch of English Pale Ale. I have two more kits ready for b’ilin’, including a “Robust Porter” and an English Brown Ale. All in all, I’ll be appearing at our Thanksgiving vacation house with 4 cases + 4 kegs of homemade beer totalling approximately 18 gallons. My uncles are excited.

You may have noticed I put a twitter feed in the top left. Don’t be sadden’d; instead, embrace the technology. I actually plan to make some small effort to keep it updated. At least as well as I do this blog, since my updates this year have averaged a wavelength of what, three weeks? Holy crap, I’m lazy.

Here’s the secret to surviving a 45-mile charity bicycle ride: get a flat tire 3 miles from the start. I got one, and was in the process of repairing it myself, when a “SAG” (“Support And Gear” or “Support Aid Group,” depending upon whom you ask) van rolled up with a professional who did it for me while I watched and enjoyed the cool morning air.

I should backtrack.

If you’ve been paying attention, you know I was participating in the Livestrong Challenge, a charity bike ride to support cancer research. There are a number of distances: a 10 mile, 45, 70, and 100. My boy Zak rode the 100, but because I value my life/knees/testicles, I was not planning to go that far. My homeskillet Sarah B, who happens to be Zak’s girlfriend, and her brother Kyle agreed to ride the 45. The original plan was that we’d stick together, but that proved very optimistic.

The Livestrong folks emailed out updates to the schedule, which revealed that we had to pick up a “race packet” with our bib number and some other things, and the only times that this could be done were on Saturday the 23rd, or Sunday the 24th between 6am and 7am, at Montgomery County Community College, which is 1) where the ride kicks off and 2) over an hour from my house.

In short, I had to be up at 4:30am Sunday in order to get up there, get my packet, meet with my peeps, and be ready and warm for the ride.

The drive up was pretty tame, since nobody was on the road, but was complicated by the fact that I had replaced all four of my car’s brakes the previous day and had not had time to drive the car the 100-200 miles needed to properly break them in. So if anyone had cut me off, there was a good chance everyone was going to die a fiery, screaming death, because I probably would not be able to stop in time. Nevertheless, I made it without incident, arriving around 5:35. I had time to kill, so I started scarfing down egg salad, and wandered over to the information tent to get in line for my packet. Bonus: nobody was there except for the people handing out packets, so I got mine right away. Bogus: now I had roughly 105 minutes to kill before the race kicked off, and I had no idea where my homies were.

Luckily, I had made plenty of beef jerky, so I was all set if I had to wait a long time.

A few text messages later it was determined the aforementioned homies were still at the hotel, so I read a cycling magazine I’d been given and tried to fill up on eggs (probably not the best move), eventually getting my bike loaded up and finally meeting Zak and Sarah and Kyle over by Sarah’s dad’s car. We made our way over to the starting point, making sure to be there by 7:30.

At 8am, they finally started making some stupid speeches that we couldn’t hear because the stage was a 1/4 mile distant. Lance Armstrong appeared, said something unintelligible, and then wandered off. Eventually they announced something that sounded like “Evrrlo hnret…GO!” and we deduced they were sending off the 100-milers, which took a while because there were something like 800 riders, Lance among them, and then the 70-milers, and finally we poor 45-mile participants were let loose around 8:15.

Sarah and Kyle and I had made absolutely sure to place ourselves at the back of the field; Kyle would probably be able to take off, ’cause he weighs approximately 75 pounds and appeared to be made entirely of protein, but Sarah and I knew we needed to start slow, and then continue slow, and finally finish slow. So we pedaled along carefully, trying to avoid running anyone over (it was a big crowd), and finally things started to thin out. Kyle said, “Man, I really want to attack this hill, but I don’t wanna leave you guys,” but I urged him on, and he disappeared into the crowd.

Sarah and I puttered along, but she was riding a mountain bike that couldn’t really hustle on the downhills, so she fell further behind, and I would wait, but finally she told me to just go, and I did. Got about two miles before I heard the tell-tale “fwap fwap fwap fwap” that indicated I was losing a tire. I looked back, and sure enough my rear was deflating with great gusto.

(My rear tire, I mean. Not my rear end. I’d like to see that deflate, but it doesn’t appear to be filled with air. Mostly shoo-fly pie and prime rib.)

I had a spare tube, so I stopped, got out my kit, and set about replacing it, which is when the SAG car rolled up, and a nice gentleman got out and did the job for me. It was a good thing he did, since he found the pin in the tire that I had missed, and got me going much faster than I would have by myself. Plus, I got to stand and enjoy my beef jerky and icy water.

Once that was done, I got back on and went on my merry way. Now there was no one in front of me that I could see, so I didn’t have to worry about bicicular (not a real word) traffic, so I could ride at my own slow pace, which I did until I reached the first rest station, which my odometer said was at mile 11. (Note: this later proved…inaccurate.) I ran across Sarah again, who had somehow passed me on the side of the road without seeing one another, and we loaded up on snacks and water and made off again. Sarah kept with me for a little ways, but after a while my powerful thigh muscles led me away. Just kidding; we found a long downhill and my sheer mass powered me down the slope.

Speaking of slopes: I topped out at somewhere around 38mph on this ride, going down an enormous hill. It doesn’t seem like that’s all that fast, but you have to realize that in a car, the tires have a contact patch (where the rubber meets the road) of 30-40 square inches per tire. Each of my bike’s tires met the asphalt in an area smaller than my wang. It’s…scary. Making it worse are the many people who don’t seem to realize that for every big hill we have to go down, we have to climb back up an equally large one, and it behooves one to build up as much momentum as one can; I’m flying down the hill at 35+, blowing by people taking up valuable road space who are holding on to their brakes and cruising at 20mph or less.

(Bike people, sadly, are no better at traffic maintenance than the average American driver; the concept of keeping to the right to stay out of the way of faster bikes is well-known but largely ignored. Unbelievable, and very frustrating.)

Going up hills was a big problem because I am not built for it. Good climbers are always skinny little guys who may not be long on leg muscle but are so light that they just scoot right on up. I weigh just shy of 250 pounds; going up hills just flat out sucks. A lot of people were having similar problems and remedied it by getting off and walking. I couldn’t do that, though; I didn’t mind stopping for little breaks, but I didn’t sign up for a 45 mile ride just to say I walked up all the hills. So I would go as hard up the hill as I could for as long as I could, and then would stop, put my feet down, eat some jerky, drink some water, and wait for the intense burning in my thighs to ease. Then I’d hop back on and get moving. Some climbs were so steep and long that I would do this two or three times. I passed the time while resting by cracking jokes with the walkers, like “Next year: Nebraska!” or “Who put this hill here? I’m going to have a word with Mr. Armstrong about this.” They’re not exactly knee-slappers right now, but let me tell you, they KILLED among the “exhausted and in staggering pain” demographic.

Cruising along, I was surprised to see how many people were just standing outside their homes to wave and clap as cyclists went by. Some people had set up their own small water stands, in addition to the sanctioned rest stops, just because they or someone they knew had cancer, and they wanted to help in some small way. It was rather moving to accept a free cup of ice-cold water from someone and have her thanking me.

Eventually I made it to the second rest stop, which appeared to be at the 22 mile mark, so I confidently sent a text message to HW to say I was halfway through. By this point it was about 10:30am, so my original plan to finish by noon was tossed by the wayside. I got moving again, and then climbed several of the largest hills I’ve ever seen. Seriously, it was like I was in Switzerland, and I made a pact with Jesus that if he let me finish I would totally stop taking His name in vain in front of elementary schoolchildren. (I’m trying, dangit.)

Then Jesus messed with me by making my rear tire pop again, this time with a loud BANG. I stopped just shy of an intersection where a nice policeman was directing traffic, and he came over to see if I could use some help. I told him I just needed to wait for a SAG van to replace my tube, and he said he could call for one, but the next rest stop was just about a half-mile away, and it was downhill. If I could carefully coast to it I wouldn’t have to wait.

So I did. Think it’s dangerous going downhill at 35mph? Try doing it at 7.5 on a flat rear tire. But I made it, and in fact they replaced the tube and the tread, which was described by the tech as “suspicious.” Going to refill my water bottles, I checked my odometer and was chagrined to discover that because of the hills I’d only really gone about 6 miles since the last stop. The good news: by my calculations I’d gone 28 miles in total, so I only had 17 to go! I was, like, 60% done! I checked my phone to see if HW had written back, and had a few congratulatory messages from her, but was saddened to see that Sarah B had had to bail out after a truck pulled out in front of her and she twisted her knee screeching to a halt. I felt pretty guilty, since I had told her, her brother, and her dad that I wouldn’t leave her behind, and…um…did. Twice, in fact. I hoped she wasn’t too badly injured, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it now.

So I got moving. I knew the next rest stop had been 11 miles from the beginning (about which, you may recall, I was incorrect). I believed myself to be 17 miles from the end, and since it was just a big out-and-back trip, I only had to go 6 more miles to the last rest station. I figured I’d stop, take a long rest, load up on jerky and water for the last (mercifully flat) stretch of the ride.

Imagine my surprise when I got to mile 34 and there was no sign of the rest station. Nor at mile 35, or 36. I was starting to worry I’d gotten off the course, but was still seeing signs directing bicyclists, as well as other riders. I worried most that I’d somehow gotten redirected onto the 70- or 100-mile courses, where I would die a painful and tragic death, I was sure.

Then, at mile 38, I came upon the station. As I loaded up on water, I overheard someone saying that there were only 9 miles left (not the 11 I thought), and I remembered: I had reset my odometer after unloading the bike from the car, but NOT after riding about two miles to warm up and look for Sarah B and her boys. So all my distance calculations were about 2 miles optimistic. I hadn’t gone 38 miles; only 36. And the first stop hadn’t been at 11 miles, it had been at 9. Oh well.

The last stretch was indeed largely climb-free, but at that stage of my exhaustion even the smallest hills required the slowest gear and a great deal of agony. Finally I started crossing roads that I remembered being close to the end, and by my corrected odometer I realized I was only two miles away, then one, and then I saw Montgomery County Community College. I had never been so eager to see an accredited institution of secondary education in my entire life. I ended up rolling into the finish at approximately 1:15, 5 hours after I started.

The end was a little emotional; they radio ahead your number so the announcer can look up your name and shout it over the PA system as you ride in, and there were literally hundreds of people clapping, waving, screaming, and having a high old time. There are actually two lanes for finishers: regular participants like me, and cancer survivors, who are greeted with flowers and extra adulation. Coupled with the fact that I was completely exhausted and excited to have finished, and I almost got a little choked up by it all.

I tried to track down Sarah B and her peeps, but never managed to; I went to the post-race party, where I kept getting dust in my eye as they introduced cancer survivors and entire teams of people who were riding for their grandfather or aunt or just a good friend. I got a beer, some pasta (eff low-carbing it, I was hungry), looked around for my friends (no dice), and headed home.

I did later find out that Sarah B didn’t hurt her knee too badly, and now she had something fun to brag about (apparently her parents already turned the story from “A pickup pulled out and I had to stop short” to “A mack truck cut me off and flung me into a ditch”), so all’s well that ends well, although frankly I still kinda feel like a dick. As usual.

On the other hand, I did successfully cycle 45 miles in 5 hours. So go me.

A big hearty thanks to everyone who donated; I’ll be sending out personal thanks over the next few weeks but would feel bad if you felt unappreciated in the meantime. So…THANKS!

Sarah and I went to Baltimore last weekend. Short version? Hella fun. Long version? Here we go:

We got up with Charles on Saturday morning at his usual time, aka 0-dark-30. We played with him a good bit, he jumped on my belly, I almost threw up, just laughs galore. Meanwhile, Sarah got all packed up and ready to go, and then dropped Charles off with her parents whilst I showered, did a little ironing, and packed.

She got back, we both used the bathroom like responsible adults, and got on the road. We were in East Baltimore in just over an hour, which was pretty remarkable, both the speed of the drive as well as East Baltimore itself. The place goes very suddenly from “horrifically seedy” to “heck of yuppie” in approximately a block, something we were to discover later in our walking travels.

We found reasonable parking ($20 for 24 hours) near our hotel, got checked in, and decided our best option for fun and frolic was to go to Fell’s Point. We had in fact selected our hotel in the belief that it was reasonably near Fell’s Point, but it was technically closest to the Inner Harbor. Either way, everything was pretty much in walking distance. So we hoofed it into Fell’s.

We expected to see a bunch of fun little shops and restaurants, and while there were a few of the former and a bunch of the latter, what there was more than anything else was bars. Sadly, few of them were my speed (quiet, probably expensive, full of dapper gentlemen in ascots and expensive sports coats and plasticine blondes with large white teeth), but we ventured into one that we had a coupon for from our hotel package, mostly because Sarah had to pee. It was named Max’s Taproom, and it was unpleasant. Loud, filled with post-graduate D-bags, and featuring skanky waitresses attempting to cash in on Hooters-style garb.

Hooters sounds like a great idea on paper; decent food, particularly good wings, and hot waitresses wandering around in tight clothing delivering the grub. Unfortunately, in practice, you leave the place unsatisfied. I’ve never been served by a waitress at a Hooters that had, you know, Hooters. They try and synthesize them by wearing brassieres that would be tight on a Chinese gymnast, but meh. Plus they wear enough makeup that you really have no idea what their facial features look like. Is that a mole, or a goiter? Who can say? And Max’s had nothing but Hooters cast-offs. It was depressing.

HW drained her urine tank and we scuttled out of there without having purchased a drink, for which I felt guilty a bit, until I had to scrape my feet on the sidewalk a few times to remove nasty beer stickum. We went across the street to the Greene Turtle to cool our heels, as we had more discount coupons for that. Went inside, saw a waitress who invited us to sit wherever, we said we’d be outside at a table that just opened up, and she said she’d be right out. So we sat outside for ten minutes until she finally poked her out of a nearby door and said, “Has anybody helped you?”

“No, not since you said you’d be right out,” I didn’t say.

“Not yet!” I actually said, cheerily, because I find in life that there is absolutely no sense in irritating someone who could spit herpes simplex-laden saliva into your drink if she senses her tip will be anything less than 25%.

The coupons specified that we could get a two-for-one drink deal if we ordered identical drinks, and this is where the complexity began: I have decided, as a result of tipping the scales north of 250 pounds, to go back on the low-carb diet. The only booze you can have (and they don’t recommend you have any) is straight stuff, because theoretically all the carbs in it have been turned to alcohol, which I guess doesn’t count as carbs for whatever reason despite the fact that it’s still pure calories. Whatever. Sarah agreed to drink whatever I planned to order, so I got us two vodka martinis. Then I drank hers, because she thought it tasted like brake fluid. I think she then ordered a beer. Might have been a rum-and-Coke. I honestly do not recall vividly, because if you’re keeping score I’d had most of two vodka martinis to this point.

I had a third, while we enjoyed some wings, and then asked for the bill. We had to do a bit of haggling with the check; the first time she brought it to us, none of our discounts had been added. The second time, the discounts had been applied to the wrong drink (costing us $3, but hey man, that’s three double cheeseburgers), but the third time, all was well, so I threw some cash at the bill and we went a-wandering yet again.

We tried to find some shops and things to look at, but aside from a gallery of photographs that were retouched to look like paintings (which I guess qualifies as art, in the same way that Photoshop-filtered puppy pictures are art) and a jewelry store where HW bought me a nice silver ring, there wasn’t much. Just bar after bar filled with drunks. Not that I’m much complaining; I’d had three martinis, after all, after not having had a drink in about a week, and was walking on air, or would have been had I not been so fat that the air was unwilling to support my heft.

We wandered north up Broadway a bit, and were bemused to discover that the quality of shops went from “10% off summer Silver” to “25% off all Hemp wear!” to “75% of weavs” in about a block. North of that, there be monsters. We came about smartly and headed back south.

After walking some more blisters into our feet, we decided to find a place to eat, and here was where the brilliant luck occurred: we had another coupon from our hotel good for $50 off of any one of three restaurants, and so we selected “Kali’s Garden,” which sadly has no website other than a few google links that seem to think it’s a Middle Eastern restaurant, which it is most definitely not.

Kali’s Garden is gourmet American cuisine done right. A good dose of seafood, of course; I had raw oysters that were YUMMMMMM, and bouillabaisse that was disappointing, although I don’t think that was the restaurant’s fault as much as me realizing that I don’t much care for bouillabaisse. Sarah had a filet that was like butter, although filet is rather hard to screw up. Even my incompetent hands can cook tenderloin to a state of scrumptiousness.

The service was, as you might expect at a place charging upwards of $32 for a basic entree, spectacular and friendly. Sarah closed the meal with crème brûlée that was quite fantastic, although again it’s difficult to screw up, while I polished off my 7th martini of the day and a free glass of champagne. Then we stumbled back to the hotel.

It was early yet, only about 7:30pm; we were tired of walking, but still too ramped up to sleep. So we wandered the Inner Harbor, did a spate of shopping (we bought a little wind-up crab for Charles, which he inexplicably hates because once it’s wound up, it can’t be turned off), and decided the sensible thing to do was go back to the hotel and get more drinks.

The hotel featured three on-site establishments: a Ruth’s Chris franchise, something called “McCormick and Schmicks” or something like that (it seemed profoundly shady, and we avoided it) and a small bistro called “My Panini.” We figured our best shot at cheap fare was at My Panini, particularly since we discovered it had a functioning bar. We wandered in and sat, and a nice gentleman handed us two menus. We decided what we wanted to snack on and drink, and waited for service.

And waited.

And waited a weeeee bit longer.

Finally a breathless young man came over, apologized profusely, took our drink and food orders, and then sprinted back to the bar and disappeared. We watched the bartender, not 15 feet from us, pour our drinks and sit them on the edge of the bar to get nice and warm, and waited for our waiter, who finally came back and delivered my salad (disappointing) and the drinks. We drank those and chatted, and he came back after a bit to get a further order, which we gave him, and he disappeared, such that we finally tired of waiting and simply got up to the bar to get our own drinks and place our own orders. On the plus side, we didn’t get charged for something like 3 of the 5 drinks we had, so I didn’t undertip too harshly.

We headed back upstairs and passed out like a hurricane.

The next morning, we planned to go see the Maryland Science Center, so we chugged some tylenol against our staggering hangovers and went downstairs to My Panini (where we were eligible for free breakfast) to fortify ourselves. We were told upon entrance that our coupons were good for a free cold breakfast, which amounted to cereal and fruit (neither of which I could eat), or $5 off of the hot breakfast, bringing the price down to $6.99 per person, plus drinks, which were exorbitant: $2.19 for a cup of coffee that tasted of seawater? What is this insanity?

My Panini, I’ll say this once, and you should listen: suck it. Your prices are ridiculous, the food is disappointing, and your service is an abomination before the Lord.

After this disheartening experience, we decided that the Maryland Science Center was too great a task for the day, so we decided to wander the Inner Harbor in daylight, do some more shopping, take some pictures of various ocean-going vessels, and partake of as many tasty snacks as we could. It was a limited success; there were certainly plenty of people wandering around, though many of them were bums hassling the tourists for “spare” change. We did get to “enjoy” a “juggler” who did a minimum of juggling and a maximum of insulting his audience in a way that was 10% funny and 90% awkward. I’m glad he spent the first 5 minutes of his act reminding everyone that he’d appeared on Jay Leno and David Letterman and yet had time to come down and do his routine for the moron tourists of Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. That really made us want to open our wallets. I don’t think the guy made 50 cents all day, which is definitely not nearly as good as when the Y-chromes went to Baltimore my senior year and did an impromptu five-song concert in the middle of the…campus? whatever it is- and netted a small fortune, enough to keep us pretty much hammered the rest of the day, which was a spectacular idea since we had a concert that evening and I ended up throwing up on a frat couch at the after-party and got everybody kicked out.

But that is another story for another time.

Once we got our fill of wandering, we tried to find a nice little bistro for snacks, but unfortunately there’s nothing in the Inner Harbor but chain restaurants, so we settled for a Houlihan’s where we had Diet Cokes and mediocre spinach dip.

And then we drove home.

So HW came home from the grocery store this afternoon, with food, dry goods, and feminine items galore. The latter, oddly enough, appeared to have been purchased third-hand from an offshore supply of East German products.

“Dude, where did you buy those tampons,” I asked. “Communism?”

“Whaddaya mean?” she replied.

“I’m willing to cheap out dollar-store-style on certain things; gift-wrap, Christmas decorations, et cetera. But things that get inserted into my orifices? You know, I shell out the cash for the premium-grade.”

“I used to be that way, but…” she trailed off, and it was clear she had sacrificed her hoohah on the altar of cheapiedom.

Here is a short list of items that I will only buy namebrand. I’m sure you have a list of your own; compare and contrast.

• Razors
• Birth control products
• Beer
• Aluminum foil
• Toothpaste
• Adoption agencies
• Financial services
• Hookers
• Politicians (the last two can probably be combined)
• Brazilian wax technicians

What’s on your list of products or services you won’t cheap out on?

Here’s an update, bulleted with a blue sky:

• The LiveSTRONG Challenge donations continue apace! A big thanks to everyone who has donated. You’ll all be getting much more personal thanks from me than just a mention on my blog, don’t worry. (The promised hugs will most definitely be forthcoming.) I’ve been training, including doing some ridiculous hills (because the route’s out in Montgomery County and promises to be fluctuous). I’m still working up my distance; the furthest I’ve ever gone is about 20 miles (the route is 45 miles), but I’m pretty confident I’ll be able to finish. For one thing, I’m riding with my homegirl Sarah and her brother, and for another, the course opens at like 8am and doesn’t close until somewhere around 4. Even my fat butt can finish a 45 mile bike ride in 8 freakin’ hours. I’ll be disappointed if it takes more then 3.5, although my pace will be dictated by whomever in our party is the slowest; I’m not leaving anybody behind. Of course, the odds are I will be the one getting left behind, which is fine with me. I ain’t holdin’ anybody up. If you’d like to donate and make my sacrifice worthwhile, use the link above and chip in some ducats, doggle.
• Oklahoma! wrapped up, I have something like 3,000 pictures from two photographers (Kate and myself) to go through and pick the cream of the crop. It may take some time, so if cast members are coming here wondering where the heck the pictures be at: patience is a virtue. I won’t even have the full set of pictures until at least the cast party on Saturday ’cause Lord knows we need documentary evidence of that freakish dance party FOR. REALS.
• Charles sings the ABC song as follows: “A B C D F G H I J K L P Q R S two Vs double X Y Z Now know ABDs next sing me!” It’s priceless.

That’s what I’ve got. Challa.

Dr. Tea-Gar pointed out in a comment to my last post that I was horribly remiss to not report the birth of my niece. Yeah, I am dumb. Somehow, the birth of my parents’ first granddaughter slipped my mind. And I wasn’t even drinking at the time! Of course, statistics show that I actually have a more reliable memory when I’m half in the bag.

Anyway. Moving on:

I would like to present Kathryn Amelia, born at 8 pounds 1 ounce, 20 inches long, on July the First.

(Link goes to Shutterfly, where those of you who are so inclined could order prints. It’s a 10MP shot, so it should inflate to just about poster-sized, although it’ll be grainy ’cause it’s ISO1600.)