In the Style of Don

After 5 solid months of bloggage, a pattern has emerged. I don't think it's a bad pattern, nor is it a rut. I won't be changing my style any time soon. It's just as fun to self-criticize as it is to rip on my friends. So, here we go... my template:

"So", meandering preface obliquely related to the topic.

"Needless to say", something that doesn't need to be said.

Paragraph feigning introspection, but basically full of false modesty.

MATH!!!
or
BICYCLES!!!

Awesome, Possibly Unrelated, Blatantly Plagiarized Photo
Inside joke only Phi Psis will get.

Build up.

Build up.

Momentum-killing (albeit amusing) aside.

Build up.

Anticlimactic punch line.

Twinkle Toes

They say that women like a man who can dance. They also say that throwing a coin into a fountain will make your wish come true. They also say that you should brush your teeth every night.

Rubbish!

This dancing is, in my opinion, just a fad. I've watched a lot of movies, and the first documented dancing I've ever witnessed has been from the Renaissance era (Heath Ledger, A Knight's Tale). Aristotle didn't do no Salsa. Nobody danced by walking like an Egyptian until the '80s, least of all the pharoahs.

I just don't get this whole idea of dancing. Sure, I dance when somebody sings "Blister in the Sun", because that's the sort of song to which you can just flip out. Jump, kick, spin, skank, go crazy! What's the appeal of small-scale undulations to a song that just goes "bump bump bumpity bump"? Techno music is stupid, but that's another story entirely.

In conclusion, boys and girls, the only truly pure form of dancing is The Robot. I rest my case.

In the Style of Jenks

I've been ripping a bit on my good friend the Jenksster recently. The Jenksster deserves it, of course, and to be honest I think he enjoys it. Thus, it is with his blessing that I present to you "A Day in the Life of The Jenksster". I leave it to you to figure out which bits are direct quotes, and which are satirical

Another Tuesday night. Another sprint practice. Another show of domination by yours truly. The numbers were nothing spectacular so I won't bore you with them here.

This morning I went to work and ran a PCA MALDI-TOF chromatography spectroanalysis on a drug that will cure all disease. The chemicals weren't coalescing as expected, so I gave them the evil eye; that got 'em into line.

Tomorrow is Karaoke night. I think I'll wear my tightest pair of pants. My tailor is making a small fortune off of me, as massive quads tear through the seams every week.Yet another ProTour squad has contacted me to be their star sprinter. I'm not sure if it's because they want a rider who can win every race he enters, or if it's because they want my throngs of screaming fans to please the sponsors. Either way, I had to say no, because I wouldn't want to ride any bike but my beloved Fuji.

Little known fact: One of the reasons I'm so good at bike racing is that I breathe different air than everyone else. Just by being within a certain radius of me, the air I inhale becomes rarefied and pure. True story.Anatomists, physicians, and anthropologists all want to study me. I am a rare case indeed; where my shame gland should be, I actually have a second awesome gland.

This got me pondering...
If I fell in the forest, and nobody was around, would I still make a sound? No, because I would never be in the forest; Mountain Biking is stupid.

Could God himself create a boulder so heavy that I could not lift it? Don't be silly. I am, after all, the son of Zeus.

Nobody has ever said "If Jenks cannot go to the mountain, bring the mountain to Jenks." They never had any reason to. I've always just ridden to the mountain, then ridden over the mountain, then won the sprint at the other side.

Don't hate me because I'm flashy and sure of myself. Hate me because I'm better than you.

Damn you, blog

I'm trying to write up a term project. The project was successful, but the writeup is proving to be rather difficult. No biggie, this has happened before. My rule of thumb is to just plow ahead, then worry about revisions later.

So I'm writing up this project, and I realize rather abruptly that I've written a long blog post. Short paragraphs, informal sentence structure, trying to turn an itemized list into a story.

Damnit, blog, damnit.

My Man-Crushes, episode 3

This is a post about my good friend Mandloff. It is my hope that the following discourse will simultaneously honor him and irk his girlfriend Mer. It's not that I don't like Mer, it's just that I enjoy getting on her nerves a little.


Mandloff joined Phi Kappa Psi a year after I did. We would frequently have lunch together in the student center with a group of mutual friends while he was pledging. I would make a point of threatening to haze him, and he would promise to haze me right back. Since I still have no idea how to haze, and since he'd graduated from a military boarding school, there was no way I was going to actually follow through on my threats.

During one such lunch, we noticed that a small group had set up a table in the student center to advertise their opinion about the sacrilege and evils of homosexuality. Being snide, holier-than-thou bastards, Mandloff and I responded the only way we knew how: we walked up to the table hand in hand, and satirized their homophobia until they made us leave.

Manloff and I are still in regular contact, thanks to the wonders of the interweb. The best part about our conversations is that they are both cerebral and immature. It's perfectly legitimate to make jokes about genitalia, provided that the jokes have SAT vocabulary, obscure pop culture references, and at least four hundred words.

Truly an innovator, Mandloff is the source of such great terminology as "ass-hat", "MEGAPIXELS!!!", and of course "Big Money Poker! 20 Dollar Buy-in!". I'll go so far as to say that he's the most-plagiarized Phi Psi, as his jokes and catch-phrases are blatantly stolen by the less-funny (I readily confess to this crime... and I'm a repeat offender).

Having graduated, Mandloff has decided to join the army. This act alone is enough to earn the mancrush, and here's why: Knowing the risks and the cost, he is standing up for what he believes in.

Warning: any comments that go up about the legitimacy or merits of the war in Iraq will be promptly deleted. The only thing that matters is that Mandloff believes he will be fighting for America's interests, and for that he has earned my respect.

I think we live in a generally soft society. It seems there was a threshold-crossing sometime between WWII and the Korean war, after which the idea of a military became a bad idea. That a soldier is someone to be pitied, that there is always a diplomatic answer to a martial conflict.

The stress of a soldier's life must surely have increased since the 40s. It used to be that no matter how much was at stake, all parties recognized the rules of war. Civilians are off limits, soldiers must be uniformed, the rights of a POW, etc. The Western World seems to recognize that war is inevitable, but that boundaries can be imposed; our enemies don't seem to recognize those boundaries (although they will scream bloody murder if the West responds in kind... but that's another diatribe entirely). It has become acceptable, even popular, to poo-poo someone who volunteers for the service.

Is Mandloff committing suicide by joining the Army? No, and I'm sure he'll thank you to stop treating him as such.

His preparations for his military career have impressed me. He's gone from a Maru-like sedentary lifestyle to a Dietz-like commitment to fitness (by Dietz-like, I mean that he exercises, but not at the expense of frequent visits to Rally's). He's expressed a great deal of curiosity in exercise physiology, and he retains technical information like a sponge. His political rants are no less ranty than they have been, but they've taken on a more practical hue. I think Mandloff is growing up.

He's going to be a great leader... he's led in the past, but I sincerely doubt that frat presidency will be nearly as trying as the life of a combat officer (then again, I don't think the Iraqis have anyone as obnoxious as Mark Starr on their side. If they do, we don't stand a chance).

Most of us talk the talk. We can speculate about how we'd handle ourselves in extreme circumstances. We can debate the merits of this policy or that. We're intelligent people, for the most part.

Mandloff is one of the few who walks the walk.

Whegs

One of the labs we toured was the Bio-Inspired Robotics Lab. Its Awesome knob went all the way up to 11. I spent 45 minutes in this lab, just playing with toys.

Veni, Vidi, Vivimus et Vincemus

Sweet, I just gave this post a title that a half-dozen people will understand, and maybe three will get the joke. Perhaps only one will know that at its core, the title is an incredibly obscure shot at a man named Fluffy.

My time in Cleveland was short but sweet. I got to hit Chipotle with BJO as soon as I arrived, then went with BJO, Nick, Cac, and Rob to McNulty's and Paninis (two of the "hot spots" of Cleveland's collegiate bar scene). I'd forgotten how dead the Cleve is; on its worst week, Harvest Moon still has two or three times as many people on a Thursday night.

I woke up early on Friday, because for some reason Case BME's seminars are all at 8:30. So glad to be graduated. My advisor was kind enough to recognize my contribution, which sort of lent me some much-needed credibility through the rest of the day. We did the lab-tour thing, we got blindsided by a lunchtime journal club, and we met with some of my old profs. Good times.

Ran with Rob in the afternoon... since when does Cleveland have nice weather? The pace was a little faster than the jogs in Florida with my 14 year old cousin, but the Florida jogs were characterized by a whole lot less whining. Just saying.

After dinner at the Wink (mmm, burgers and Chimay), I was walking past Paninis and saw somebody's commuter bike: Javelin 'cross bike, full Dura Ace, Bontrager Race Lites with Mud 2 tires. Some people have too much money.

After a sweet insurance-lowering seminar on Saturday (I got a Junior Firefighter sticker and watched a tub of burning propane), I hit the gym with Beardo and Dennhardt. Beard has made impressive progress towards his goal of being a lean mean facial-hair-growing machine, and Dennhardt's sister is still hot. I spent the rest of the day preparing a presentation for Tuesday's class, then stopped by the 24-Hour Softball Tournament, where I had the pleasure of catching up with a lot of old friends.

At one point on Saturday, I found my frat-life mingling with my grad-life. Via the magic of the interwebs, the following conversation took place:
PhiPsiSean: "I'm going to spend all night working the grill"
Don: "Aren't you vegetarian? How are you BBQ-Guy?"
Sean: "I volunteered for the irony... in fact, I'm probably going to have a couple of burgers tonight"
Don: "Why?"
Sean: "Right now, I'm sorta more poor than vegetarian"
[Don conveys this conversation to AngryMark]
Mark: "Tell your friend that I'm going to punch him in the face"
[Don is not sure if NTW was kidding or not...]

All in all, I give the weekend a thumbs up. Overall highlight: Phi Psi Burgers! If you've never had them, then you don't even know...

I Support Team Slipstream

As a fan of bike racing in general, it's hard to have a favorite team... I want the most exciting, most aggressive rider to win, and I don't care what sponsor is on his kit.

Still, sometimes a team does something ballsy to set itself apart. Ballsy like enacting an expensive, unprecedented anti-doping policy. Ballsy like running two teams, domestic and Euro, and being aggresors in their races. Ballsy like wearing Argyle kits.
photo courtesy Cyclingnews.com/Jonathan Devich
So, I'm a bit of a fan. I also like Quickstep... but I'm not going to go out and buy whatever it is that Quickstep is selling. Maybe in a worst-case scenario I'll be using Predictor's product, but I don't really like Robbie McEwen or Leif Hoste.

Slipstream, as it happens, isn't a sponsor; Slipstream is the team's owner. I can't buy their product, because their product is the team. What I can do is buy the presenting sponsor's product...

Team Slipstream, presented by Chipotle. I support them, because I eat their burritos. I suggest you do the same.

Recovery and Just One More

Recovery

When you first start riding, it is customary to ride 3 or 4 times a week, as hard as you can each time. Then somebody who's been around the block a few times tells you to ride more often (duh) and tells you that to go fast, you have to go slow (whaaa?).

The basic idea actually is pretty intuitive; working hard does damage to your muscles, leaving bits of flotsam and jetsam floating around. To get the gunk out of your muscles, you use the muscles themselves as pumps... you ride very easy, and as your muscles contract, they push the poisonous floaters out of the interstitial fluid and your muscles can heal more easily. Better healing yields better muscles, which is good.

But nobody ever tells us how dreary recovery is. I enjoy the social aspect of slow laps around campus, but I much prefer the company of my friends when we're trying to destroy each other. When the weather's bad, I have to do a recovery ride indoors... ugh.

In trying to explain my distate for recovery rides to a friend, I asked him, "what is your favorite sport?". My anonymous friend's response is the inspiration for the following analogy:

Imagine that you're in a loving relationship with the perfect girl. The catch is that your relationship will only work if you also sleep with her hideous, boring, mildly-retarded sister. And when the weather's bad, you have to be sober for it. Don't worry, you only have to see the ugly step-sister on Monday nights, 'cause you've been racing all weekend.

----------------------------------------------------

Just One More

Yesterday marked the final Tuesday night Devil Takes The Hindmost (aka Elimination, aka Miss-N-Out, aka some crazy name that Will came up with) sprint workout with the Hermes team. ProfessorAndy had the great idea of doing a series of Kierins (next Tuesday: the Madison! next Wednesday: the hospital!), in which he would act as the motorbike. Every two laps, he would ramp up the speed, then pull off the front to let the rest of us duke it out.

Jenks, being a damn good sprinter, won from the front, then from the middle, then from the back. He pretty much won at will. And was a complete tool about it. Yesterday I learned where the fine line is between confidence and hubris. It is under my good friend Jenks.

Sprinting with the group is so much better than sprinting alone. It's just so easy to soft-pedal the acceleration when you're by yourself, but when a gap opens in front of you there is no hiding from the truth. Ouch. I f'in buried myself to stay with the go-fast guys, but I think I held my own.

HardTailJay missed the first few sprints, but he was kind enough to join me in my second set, the Sunset Sprints on the desolate but well-lit road behind my apartment. "I dunno, Jay, I'm pretty burned from the Kierins... let's do 4 and see how I feel".

200m out. Coast, turn, coast, trackstand. 200m back. Lather, rinse, repeat. After 4, I said "just one more". After 5, I said "just one more". Jay laughed at me, but we got in 10 good efforts.

I was grateful for his presence, because we really pushed each other. It was unspoken, but it was there... neither of us wanted to lose. The efforts were brutal, and the sideways glances were subtle but telling. I'm surprised we didn't start bumping elbows.

At the bar last night, I informed Jay that I would be writing a post about him, called "Just One More".

"Oh?" he replied. "Is this about my drinking? 'Cause I do not have a drinking problem!"

Typical Thought Process

Having survived today's particularly hard workout, I've been trying to cram as much food down my gullet as possible. This will aid me in recovery. More on that topic tomorrow.

After coming back from the bar (carbs in the form of Irish Stout!), I was faced with the following decision: Ice Cream or Cereal?

Surely this is not enough detail... the Ice Cream in question is Cookie Dough. The Cereal is Honey Bunches of Oats. Does that help portray the depth of my dilemma?

So, what it's come down to is this: Cereal is healthy and full of nutrivites. Ice Cream is full of delicious.

I figure I'll just eat a lot of Ice Cream. Like, a LOT. It may not be as efficient a calorie source as cereal, but efficiency be damned! I want me some delicious!