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a certain fuck you attitude relating to bikes [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
M.

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(no subject) [Sep. 3rd, 2011|11:09 pm]
M.
Now I can take visiting Kink.com off my bucket list. And my clothes didn't fall off once.
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(no subject) [Jul. 26th, 2011|05:42 pm]
M.
I need to buy this cartoon but where am I going to put 6 feet worth of cartoon in my tiny hovel? I'm also too tired to walk up hill to yoga. Paying for the cable car is for tourists.

Damn my first world problems!
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(no subject) [Jul. 17th, 2011|01:18 am]
M.
I totally forgot about what happens when I drink and dance. Please make everything stop spinning.
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(no subject) [Apr. 16th, 2011|09:19 am]
M.
In this week's fencing lesson, I learned to fleche, which is running at someone full speed while hitting them. I think my coach thought I was kidding when I said I don't run, but I don't. I walk briskly. I generally don't run for buses, especially with Muni's track record of running people down. I don't jog. I think there's something wrong with people who run for fun (And triathletes? Don't get me started).

I get very tense before each lesson, because I'm instantly brought back to the horrible gym classes of my youth. My coach is a fantastic, nice guy, so it's not him. I get frustrated easily, fencing moves are awkward, and I have to do everything backward. I'm not only using my non-dominant hand, but my coach is usually showing me things right handed (he switches sometimes) so I have to re-orient what I just saw. Which is hard enough, but because my left foot/leg is dominant, I'm not used to thinking about what I do with it. So a fleche just became me flailing about. Especially since I don't like colliding with people, and a right handed person is directly in my running path.

I usually try to equate whatever I'm doing on the strip with dancing, because it's the athletic thing I've been doing the longest (the only thing cycling and fencing seem to have in common is silly clothes). Which is great for bouncing around like an idiot, but that's about it. I don't really have opportunities to run at people. I should start running through the office, now that we have more space. People keep working late, so I can't ride my bike in there yet.
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Tattoo time! [Mar. 27th, 2011|07:29 pm]
M.
IMAG0050


I'm just glad I can stop talking about getting this done. Seven down, one more to go.

And for those who have visited my house, I have four sets of sheets, I just happen to like these best. Goddamn athletic hobbies have me doing laundry all the time.
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Siegfried! [Feb. 12th, 2011|06:42 pm]
M.
IMAG0039


I wanted to get a photo, because the bar wrap is never going to look that clean again. I'm still not sure how I feel about having a purple bike.
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(no subject) [Jan. 1st, 2011|02:33 am]
M.
I'm drunk, hipsters are making loud noises outside my door, and I'm watching Jessica Tandy on Alfred Hitchcock Presents, so it feels like the right time to post.

I started something earlier, but I got bored with it, so I deleted it. Anyhoo, 2010 was better than '09, so surely '11 has to be better? Fuck 140 characters and Facebook. I'm too verbose for that shit.

I got my dance on, and every time, I forget how much I love it, and how central it is to me as a person, even if assholes take over the dance floor with their chatter and meat marketing. It must be so simple and relaxing to be normal.

Uh, happy New Year's. I still did not get Mondrian cake. Someone's going to pay.
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(no subject) [Dec. 19th, 2010|09:38 pm]
M.
IMAG0032


All my HTC photos are so blurry. So blurry.
This is what we do for fun in the office (the nose blinks).
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(no subject) [Nov. 19th, 2010|03:33 pm]
M.
I had Mike take a photo of my fencing bruises (from two weeks ago!), because this is what I do at work. I must be getting better; I got hit everywhere but the upper arm last time. I also made more touches. I enjoy occasionally running at top speed at my opponent to freak them out.

IMAG0016


It's the part directly under the mole, the rest is bad lighting and the inside of my elbow. And where the fuck do those moles come from? I've got them in random places, and I know I didn't have any I was like 17 or something. I avoid the sun at all costs.

My new source of amusement is to show my bruises to someone and pretend to start crying like I'm in a Lifetime movie.
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I don't know what to do with this thing [Nov. 4th, 2010|12:32 pm]
M.
I have just switched weapons and am now fencing epee. What this means to you, non-fencing reader, is that I no longer have to deal with mind-bending rules. I just have to hit first and anywhere on the body, including the foot. This is good because in foil I had a tendency to hit my opponents in their crotch.

I think fencing appeals to my masochism and basic love of violence. Everyone apologizes when they hit me really hard, but I don't notice (I got more than a couple of shots to the throat, too). Except when they hit some soft spot where a joint is, like the inside of my elbow, or where my thigh meets my whatever you call that area where the crotch starts. Even so, I yelp for a second and just continue. My left arm is black and blue in some spots, but this is more a reminder that I need to run away more often.

I have upped my weight lifting game to where I can deadlift 100 lbs and squat 115 lbs. I'm still waiting to drop something on my foot or wrench my back (and my eventual addiction to painkillers to truly round out my middle class lifestyle). This led to an odd moment the other night. I was out on a date, and happened to be leaning on my arms against the bar (I seem to spend a lot of time in bars). Dude grabs my upper arm while making a point, and is suddenly in awe its muscularity. So much so that he keeps randomly grabbing it all night, in addition to poking at my calf. Let us ignore his lack of home training for a moment. I just want to point out that it's not like I look like a Williams sister, I just don't have floppy chicken wings. I also like to destroy Tokyo in my spare time. Dude was awkward in an unendearing manner anyhow, which you'll have to get from me in person. I'm still confused by the one who high fived me at the end of the date.

I don't particularly care for people calling me athletic, as I still have left over jock hatred from my youth. And I participate in nerd sports, where I still find room to be awkward. Yesterday I pulled my mask on super fast and hit myself on the bridge of the nose so hard that I saw stars for a couple of seconds. Earlier that day I almost killed myself riding down a short drop in Golden Gate. I got custom panniers (so hot), and have been riding around with only one of them since I don't carry that much. Since one side of my bike is weighed down more than the other, my bike started to slip out from under me, while shooting down hill. My handlebars dipped down into crazy figure eights while I imagined my crumbled body underneath whatever cars and trucks were behind me. I managed to stay upright, but decided to walk my bike downhill for the rest of my ride. Unfortunately, there are more than a few hills between my house and school which made for a long, sweaty ride in unseasonably warm temperatures. I just realized how boring this paragraph is to anyone but me. Hell, this whole fucking entry.

The only other thing to talk about is school, which is just as boring. After a year of organizing and fear, my cohort put on an academic conference which went off without a hitch. Mostly because I wasn't in charge of anything. I read my paper on the failings of the film Good Hair, which was an interesting balance of reading, making eye contact with the audience, and trying not to pee on myself in terror. I've never been a fan of public speaking, but it's gotten worse these past couple of years. Maybe since I haven't had to do it since undergrad? I'm perfectly okay with taking my clothes off in front of random strangers on stage (as my coworkers constantly remind me), but talking makes me want to vomit all over myself. Next hurdle: thesis.
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