My mom got mad at me today because I thought this picture...
was hilarious.
She thinks it "barbaric"--God bless her.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Cyclo-what?
So...finding the luke-warm, mixed response to the cyclocross event amusing. Everything from heated encouragement and cheering to raised eyebrows and dismissal. Well, whatever you find yourself thinking...if it even inspired that much, know that it was a ridiculous BLAST, and nothing more. Which in truth, I think the whole single speed cyclocross crowd was designed for anyway.
My mom got mad at me today because I thought this picture...
was hilarious.
She thinks it "barbaric"--God bless her.
My mom got mad at me today because I thought this picture...
was hilarious.
She thinks it "barbaric"--God bless her.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
so much so much...and so oh little time
God, what a summer. What a job. What a weekend. What a life...holy hill. There are so many people I want to thank for so many things. So many events and things I want to mention. So many weird ass experiences I am itching to expose and exploit. So much, so much, and oh so little time!!!
This tour season has been amazing. Intense. Bizarre. Overwhelming. Rewarding and downright fucking frustrating to the point of tears. Had one guest get hit by a car, another send himself over his handlebars and take out three front teeth. One endo'd headfirst into a rocky creek bottom and wound up w/ an airlift out of a national park. Someone else had to receive the horrible news from our office, of a baby nephew being hit and killed by a car..and that's just the guests! Entire town water pump systems quit working, trailer brakes locked up, motorcyclists collided w/ company vehicles while I was driving them...I mean seriously! What the f*%@?
How-eva, I truly believe this last weekend alone, set all planets and Universal imbalance, back into alignment. Please view: http://www.dmroth.com/cycling/kiss_krew/index.html for your personal comprehension. I just want to add: I actually gave myself a blister ringing my cow bell...and that is almost as good as double clicking a mouse.
This was a two day event: day one has the boys in blue, grease monkey suits, and day two in KISS makeup and yes, those are leather pants. We all crawled out of bed Saturday, to make the three hour drive to Estacada, just southeast of Portland, where the first annual Cyclocross World Championships were held. Pictures tell the story so much better than words, but suffice it to say we walked away w/ a pile of hand-made cowbells (which are an entire mass-email story and prayer session in themselves), a carbon crank set, at least half a dozen lovely pint glasses, countless kisses, cycle shwag and a fan club to make your heart melt. I think I have found my calling in life: groupie and cheerleader extraordinaire...though I may have to shed a few layers and show some T&A, if I want to get serious about this. I didn't sleep the night before heading down, due to a painting job I had agreed to. Needless to say, I was high on fumes and sleep deprivation BEFORE partying all day, all night and all day again. SO. MUCH. FUN.
This easily ranks as one of the best events I have ever attended, and further more, wreaked havoc upon. I am so sad to say that I am now leaving some of the most incredible people I have come to know and proudly call my friends and family, to play in Montana for the winter. Montana is where my immediate family resides, and while I so look forward to actually spending time with them again, I am sad to be leaving this incredibly brilliant, juvenile lifestyle and the pack of instigators I call my friends. These people fuel my love of mischief, adventure and life in general.
Then, I sign onto a severely neglected blog, only to find more amazing friends and family members have been tending to the madness that is my life, in the form of late night ranting sessions and verbal explosions of momentary frustration a.k.a. my blog. I LOVE YOU ALL.
This tour season has been amazing. Intense. Bizarre. Overwhelming. Rewarding and downright fucking frustrating to the point of tears. Had one guest get hit by a car, another send himself over his handlebars and take out three front teeth. One endo'd headfirst into a rocky creek bottom and wound up w/ an airlift out of a national park. Someone else had to receive the horrible news from our office, of a baby nephew being hit and killed by a car..and that's just the guests! Entire town water pump systems quit working, trailer brakes locked up, motorcyclists collided w/ company vehicles while I was driving them...I mean seriously! What the f*%@?
How-eva, I truly believe this last weekend alone, set all planets and Universal imbalance, back into alignment. Please view: http://www.dmroth.com/cycling
This was a two day event: day one has the boys in blue, grease monkey suits, and day two in KISS makeup and yes, those are leather pants. We all crawled out of bed Saturday, to make the three hour drive to Estacada, just southeast of Portland, where the first annual Cyclocross World Championships were held. Pictures tell the story so much better than words, but suffice it to say we walked away w/ a pile of hand-made cowbells (which are an entire mass-email story and prayer session in themselves), a carbon crank set, at least half a dozen lovely pint glasses, countless kisses, cycle shwag and a fan club to make your heart melt. I think I have found my calling in life: groupie and cheerleader extraordinaire...though I may have to shed a few layers and show some T&A, if I want to get serious about this. I didn't sleep the night before heading down, due to a painting job I had agreed to. Needless to say, I was high on fumes and sleep deprivation BEFORE partying all day, all night and all day again. SO. MUCH. FUN.
This easily ranks as one of the best events I have ever attended, and further more, wreaked havoc upon. I am so sad to say that I am now leaving some of the most incredible people I have come to know and proudly call my friends and family, to play in Montana for the winter. Montana is where my immediate family resides, and while I so look forward to actually spending time with them again, I am sad to be leaving this incredibly brilliant, juvenile lifestyle and the pack of instigators I call my friends. These people fuel my love of mischief, adventure and life in general.
Then, I sign onto a severely neglected blog, only to find more amazing friends and family members have been tending to the madness that is my life, in the form of late night ranting sessions and verbal explosions of momentary frustration a.k.a. my blog. I LOVE YOU ALL.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
A La Carp
Damn this nonsense I tell you. Damn this nonsense of people and projects not operating the way I think they should. I am trying very hard to accomplish a ridiculously long list of company "honey do's", and damned if the system ain't workin' against me. Who the hell actually knows where the company ORIGINALS are of vehicular registration and insurance??? I seem to be able to locate a pathetic and useless combination of copies for 4 separate vans and/or trailers, and NOTHING that combined, will allow the good people of Hawaii to give me a damned safety check...which I need in order to register the van and trailer...which I need to drive...in order to run a tour...which is my job-albeit perhaps temporarily, at the rate of my bad mouthing beloved employers...which my Auntie has been quick to call me on and constructively criticize.
Allow me to defend: I speak rather candidly to the face of the very man I publicly harass. While I rant and ramble over the things that annoy me or put me off, I do in fact love my job, very much, and even more so, the people I work with. I tell them this at least as much as I tell them the rest. While verbal "puking" has certainly been a topic of concern to me in deciding to publish my thoughts on the internet-many of which could certainly be categorized as bodily functions or fluids-I find a certain level of interest in staying raw and true to experience. I suck at keeping my pains and opinions to myself. However, if I had never said a word of what I wrote, to the person I was targeting, I doubt that I'd have written it. I believe rather fiercely that honesty is the only policy...and that can kick a girl in the ass. Further more, I maintain a significant level of protectiveness toward the people in my world-after all, it is my world. I do not mention names, and I do not advertise company labels (not that it'd be hard to figure out and top it off with the fact that I'm a lousy liar, so you could likely just ask). I tell it the way I want to-like a spoiled, bratty child-and hopefully make it clear that this is my immature, self-centered, ridiculously opinionated rampage, not the bloody gospel. Mind you, the world would be a better place if you heathens would treat it as such.
Allow me to defend: I speak rather candidly to the face of the very man I publicly harass. While I rant and ramble over the things that annoy me or put me off, I do in fact love my job, very much, and even more so, the people I work with. I tell them this at least as much as I tell them the rest. While verbal "puking" has certainly been a topic of concern to me in deciding to publish my thoughts on the internet-many of which could certainly be categorized as bodily functions or fluids-I find a certain level of interest in staying raw and true to experience. I suck at keeping my pains and opinions to myself. However, if I had never said a word of what I wrote, to the person I was targeting, I doubt that I'd have written it. I believe rather fiercely that honesty is the only policy...and that can kick a girl in the ass. Further more, I maintain a significant level of protectiveness toward the people in my world-after all, it is my world. I do not mention names, and I do not advertise company labels (not that it'd be hard to figure out and top it off with the fact that I'm a lousy liar, so you could likely just ask). I tell it the way I want to-like a spoiled, bratty child-and hopefully make it clear that this is my immature, self-centered, ridiculously opinionated rampage, not the bloody gospel. Mind you, the world would be a better place if you heathens would treat it as such.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Ah ha ha!
Ah ha ha people! You're going to let me get away with all of this? Come now, not a single critic in the audience? Not to antagonize, but I find the temptation almost too delicious. Could I possibly have the entire stage to myself and no one watching??? Almost too good to be true! How long can it last? How long 'til the silence is broken? Oh public diary...
Wormy little man in the corner...
Hidden muses...
Objects of attraction...
Wormy little man in the corner...
Hidden muses...
Objects of attraction...
A-mercan
I work for a man who embodies the absolute American communication tactic (and would likely fire for saying that). "Maybe if I say it louder and slower, the heathens will better understand the important message I have to deliver."
I've just spent the last hour and a half weeding through a website he designed, and it's ever so much like having a conversation with the man himself. You walk away feeling pummeled with mass amounts of information, all of which is:
R-E-A-L-L-Y F-U-C-K-I-N-G I-M-P-O-R-T-A-N-T
AND MUST BE MEMORIZED, TATOOED AND BRANDED INTO YOUR PSYCHE OR YOU WILL FAIL AND BE A HUGE DISAPPOINTMENT TO THE COMPANY
...Only to discover on the flip side of a 48 hr adrenaline rush and anxiety attack, that maybe a quarter of it was important enough to be worth mentioning...once, not three times, and all of it could be accomplished without the use of capital letters, exclamations or massive fonts. But hey, go team. I have to go take my blood pressure meds now so I can drink some more coffee later.
Good man, just f-ing intense. And yes, thank god I'm such a picinic.
Eeeeew, there's a little worm of a man strutting and boasting himself all over the coffee shop...and his little soccer shorts have made their way into his butt crack.
I've just spent the last hour and a half weeding through a website he designed, and it's ever so much like having a conversation with the man himself. You walk away feeling pummeled with mass amounts of information, all of which is:
R-E-A-L-L-Y F-U-C-K-I-N-G I-M-P-O-R-T-A-N-T
AND MUST BE MEMORIZED, TATOOED AND BRANDED INTO YOUR PSYCHE OR YOU WILL FAIL AND BE A HUGE DISAPPOINTMENT TO THE COMPANY
...Only to discover on the flip side of a 48 hr adrenaline rush and anxiety attack, that maybe a quarter of it was important enough to be worth mentioning...once, not three times, and all of it could be accomplished without the use of capital letters, exclamations or massive fonts. But hey, go team. I have to go take my blood pressure meds now so I can drink some more coffee later.
Good man, just f-ing intense. And yes, thank god I'm such a picinic.
Eeeeew, there's a little worm of a man strutting and boasting himself all over the coffee shop...and his little soccer shorts have made their way into his butt crack.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Uuuuuuh...
Or...I could just be an idiot for the rest of my life. Ignorance IS bliss people, don't let 'em tell you different. It's easier and a lot more fun, let's face it.
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