chewykolchuk.com

Tomorrow is September.  HOLY SHIT!

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This last week has been pretty weird. Monday I was at work until about 10pm with Andrew because he was prepping his cyclocross bike for the upcoming winter commuting months. I gave him a ride home in the Mobile Van since he had 2 bikes here. We had a beer or two and some food and I came back to the shop and then rode home. I was in bed shortly after midnight. Not too bad.

Tuesday, Mark R came over to the shop after work and we ripped his commuter (97 Bianchi Eros) down to the bare frame and rebuilt it with all new Campy Centaur (with Record hubs and shifters). I gotta say, the Campy Ultra-Torque crank/bb’s are T-I-T tight! Anyway, we hooked up his ride and then split. I think we left near midnight, so I crashed out around 1 or 2am that night.

Wednesday, Molly came to the bikeshop. I’ve been working with her on her website for a while and we needed to do some more tweaking, so we did. Til 10ish? I don’t know about that one, because I stopped at the local watering hole on the way home that night. OOOOOPS! It’s one thing to stop by your local watering hole. It’s another thing to have the cook start chatting you up when he’s off cuz he recognizes you. It’s totally another thing to have an off-duty bartender include you in 2 rounds of shots cuz you’re sitting at the bar next to the cook (and cuz he recognizes you). And then it’s something else entirely when the active bartender says, “You like gin, right? There’s a bug in this one, so I can’t serve it, but I’d totally drink it myself, except that I hate gin. Tonic for you, right?” Oh shit…yeah, hook me up.

That night was all about me getting home just after last call, which is 2am in WA. Needless to say, my output on Thursday was pathetic. We actually got done what we could, but we had to order a bunch of parts for a bunch of repairs and Friday was looking like it was going to be FULL.

It was. Matt and I have taken to talking in a NY Italian accent at the shop, and holy shit we both suck at it. Add to that the fact that I’ve been having a long week, and my mouth was NOT working right at all. At one point I had a hammer in my hand and I was trying to speak, but I must have started the same word or sentence like 3 times and got nothing but mush-mouth, so I got pissed and said, “I’m having a bad talking day!”, and I (thought that I) tapped the top of the hairspray bottle with the hammer. NOPE. I NAILED it. In fact I nailed it so good, the finger-nozzle-thingy broke off and it started spraying all over the place.

Well, me being quick on my feet, I grabbed the can of AquaNet* and ran outside with it. Matt was laughing like a stoned hyena, and Dean was just shaking his head. I’m sure he was thinking, “These assholes work for me? I’m fucked.” It’s now a good 5hrs later and my legs feel taut. I got so much hairspray on my lower legs that my shins now look like they saw a ghost. Or maybe like they sing for The Cure. Whatever…

* AquaNet is the best friend of 80s hair metal bands and bike shops everywhere. It’s equally capable of teasing your hair straight up into the nosebleed seats AND sticking the slipperiest plastic grips to the smoothest handlebars.

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My sister is in Egypt. She’ll be there for a year, and I hope to go visit her while she’s there. She’s only been there for a couple weeks, if that, but it would seem that my 10 or 11yr old niece (I don’t know her age cuz I’m a shitty uncle) is adjusting very well.

You remember being that age, having your parents ask you if you’d done your homework? Yes, I did my homework. Are you sure it’s all done? Yes, my homework is all done! However long that might go on…we’ve been there.

My sister was asking her daughter if her homework was done, and the reply was, ‘I swear to Allah my homework is done.’

1500 Bonus Points to Michaela for that one. You go, girl!

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I’ve been using the term ‘douche bag’ a lot lately in my emailings to and from friends. I’ve come to realize/notice that while the various auto spell-checkers don’t seem to like my last name, they are absolutely fine with the term ‘douche bag’.

So that got me to thinking. And after enough thought, I started laughing good and hard. The thing is, somewhere out there in the infrastructure that serves our daily lives on the internet, there was, at one point, a person or persons, who was/were tasked with discerning how words and terms are supposed to be spelled, so that spell-checkers would be able to function more effectively while we emailed and wrote essays and reports and letters and all kinds of bullshit like that. And one day, somebody came across the term ‘DOUCHE BAG’ on that day’s ToDo list.  I picture a very bland, possibly uptight person who may have very little in the way of social skills (a geek) being the very person to come across that particular entry and having it not even register in the (in my mind) normal Beavis & Butthead way…  “Hehehehe, check it out, I got ‘douche bag’.  That’s awesome!”
And now I’ve put it into the written word on a website, and it’s lost its humor. BUT, it was funnier than shit earlier today. Awww, fuck it…

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