Ok, so I’m in this weird sort of random mood. I’ve got Jesus & Mary Chain on my mind and I can’t shake ‘em. Indulge me. And you know, when I listen to them now, I can totally hear why BRMC sites them as an influence. Yes, I am Ms Obvious. Excuse me for not being cooler. Stop hating on me!! Just enjoy some tunage!
14 days until we depart for our road trip/vacation/groupie fest. I know before I said we were only going to 5 shows. Now we’re going to 6 shows. How I can handle it you ask? Oh, it’s easy for me. Ask B - he’s the one that’s got to put up with my crazy ocd-riden ass. He’s the one that I’m pretty sure has never intentionally listened to a bjm album from start to finish because, well, because he’s never wanted to; he’s the one that’s had to stand uncomfortably through hour after painful hour of on-stage drama, stress and endless guitar tuning. But he’s a trooper, that B. And a keeper.
So we did the Bridge Pedal last weekend.
That picture was taken right towards the beginning of the Pedal when everyone was excited and happy - I think the Markum was like the 2nd bridge, right? And that stupid ass vest combined with my already large chest sort of make it look like I’m wearing some sort of life preserver. Sheesh.
Anyway, I was doing great the whole time. The whole time, that is, until we headed up Russell towards the Fremont. I felt it coming on around the Rose Quarter: I needed water badly. Oh, but no, there’s no water to be found on the muthafeckin Bridge Pedal NO. So on the way to Fremont Bridge this bitch of headache takes me over and then the world begins to close in on me. No, haters, it’s not like I was going to faint. It was more of this acute annoyance of the entire world. Everything and everyone irritated me like nobody’s business. The peak of my annoyance was seeing two young moms pushing their babies in their stupid ass strollers towards all the bicyclists on the top of the Fremont Bridge. The things I was fantasizing in my head to scream at those bitches. I can’t even bring myself to repeat them now.
Oh, and then, Sam Adams was up there on the top of the bridge being all nice and neighborly and politically correct and he tried to give me a Portland Bike mini-map or something. And I was so tired and so dehydrated and so irritated that I just blew right be him (and by "blow right by him" I mean, I was going about as fast as a slug, red faced and puffing). I just didn’t have the strength or inclination to lift my hand off the handle bar long enough to pick up a map. Where would I have put it afterall. Anyway, Sam Adams, if you’re reading this, I’m awfully sorry I blew you off. You seem nice & approachable & all.