My bicycle. It's a beaut.
It's red. Probably about 10 years old. It has rectangular reflectors on each wheel and one that's off-center below the handle bars. No straps on the pedals. Turn down handle bars. Small, hard, black seat that doesn't even fit a third of my ass on it. 10 SPEED is spelled out in black lettering on both sides of the first bar, I guess just to reinforce that feature. Maybe at the time it was made that was some sort of major breakthrough in bike technology. But it just seems so proud to be a 10 speed. Breaks work, but the left one sounds like a small child screeching when I press it. The right one is as smooth and silent as a veloceraptor's attack from the side.
No, I don't wear a helmet.
I bike to work now. It's about 20 blocks away...about a ten minute ride. A bike really is the fastest way of getting around the city since you don't really have to abide by all the traffic laws. Going to work in a car takes more like 20 minutes. I ride on the streets with the city looking down on me from all sides.
Haven't gotten hit by anything yet, but then I've only been riding for about a month. And when I get pedaling on that thing, there's no stopping me...music pumping, hair blowin' in the wind (makes me wonder what it would feel like to actually own a car).
So if anyone sees a flash of red pass them on the street, you'll know who it is!
Oh yeah and I'm going on vacation tomorrow. Meetin' up with the 'rents at their summer rental house in Bethany Beach. Cuz and Sis are driving down with me (I don't know if I've introduced Cuz yet, but I'll unleash her next post). I know family vacay doesn't sound very eventful, but you don't know my family. So, I will give a full account when I get back. Sis has been saving quarters for months to spend on the claw machines (she's 23, btw). Last year we left our house in Reston and she forgot her cup full of quarters and she threw a shit fit and made us turn around to go back and get it. We'll see what crap she manages to win this year.
'Till the next...
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Monday, July 9, 2007
Friend Update
Remember those charmers I mentioned in the First? Well, they're still hangin' in there, stirring up trouble. Here's a little update on their status (you'll see a few newbies with blogworthy news as well)...
Dirty D- Maniac friend from high school. Lives outside of Milwaukee now, away from most friends and family. Pregnant. Keeping it. That kid is gonna be jacked in the head.
Friend- Single again and ready to mingle after quite the Alanis Morisette break-up
Blondie- unemployed going on a month now with no end in sight.
Fratastic- Big interview for a job in the Big Ap (could be leaving us if he gets it). Discovered his massive collection of Phish CDs, which poses a challenge to the whole fratastic persona
Ghetto Jew- around all the time even though he doesn't live with us. Sneakers up the waz.
?- maybe moving. Blondie doens't seem to mind.
Metro- hands down his pants all the time. Aloof. Don't know what's wrong with him these days.
Dirty D- Maniac friend from high school. Lives outside of Milwaukee now, away from most friends and family. Pregnant. Keeping it. That kid is gonna be jacked in the head.
Friend- Single again and ready to mingle after quite the Alanis Morisette break-up
Blondie- unemployed going on a month now with no end in sight.
Fratastic- Big interview for a job in the Big Ap (could be leaving us if he gets it). Discovered his massive collection of Phish CDs, which poses a challenge to the whole fratastic persona
Ghetto Jew- around all the time even though he doesn't live with us. Sneakers up the waz.
?- maybe moving. Blondie doens't seem to mind.
Metro- hands down his pants all the time. Aloof. Don't know what's wrong with him these days.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Yeung Fong/ Savemore/ KFC
The triumvirate of unaccomodating, poorly run, borderline dangerous food places that flank my neighborhood.
Yeung Fong- The Chinese place across the street. I went there a lot when I first moved here, but then tapered off, realizing how bland and rubbery their food tastes. The General Tso's chicken tastes remarkably similar to the sesame chicken...and to the sweet and sour chicken...and every other chicken dish they have. Their sauces taste unnaturally gooey...to the point where I am questioning what it is that I'm eating. Their spring rolls are pretty money, though, although I guess it would be pretty hard to fuck those up. They also have a myriad of other things on their menu that I would be terrified to try, such as gyros, crab cakes, buffalo wings, fish sticks and God knows what else.
There is always a gang of hoodrats hanging out outside of Yeung Fong, filtering in and out with their big paper bags full of those mouthwatering delights concocted at Yeung Fong. Sometimes I'll see kids clumsily trying to ride skateboards that they probably stole from some unsuspecting white hipster kid (probably twice their age) a couple neigborhoods over. A favorite spot for the young blood to marinate and holler at the ladies. Going in there you have to wait a little while for your food, which puts you in position to receive catcalls from both inside and outside, since the door is always open and there is nowhere to stand inside to escape the line of sight of those lingering outside.
This is also where I first discovered the jacket, which I have since seen on only the trendiest of hoodgoers. It's a black bubble coat (big enough to fit whatever you can imagine in its numerous pockets) with bright gold dollar signs covering every inch of it. Some of them wear it through every season and the ones who do stand a little bit taller and strut a little bit fiercer (as if owning a jacket with dollar signs on it is some sort of substitute for actually having money) Who knew?
The Savemore- This place is pretty scary, no lie. I don't enjoy going in there at all, much less alone, but if I need something its the closest grocery store (if you can even call it that) so I'll go. But only during the day. It just seems like a hotbed for muggers and petty thieves. And its a complete hole in the wall so once you get inside I get the sinking feeling that whatever goes on in there can't be heard from the outside. The men who hang out in front of the savemore are a slimier and a bit older breed than those who hang out in front of Yeung Fong. I try not to look good when I go in there because having to walk past them going in and out the door makes me extremely nervous. And they can sense that, which makes me easy bait.
Anyway, it's slim pickins inside this "grocery store" or convenient store, whatever you want to call it. I went in there to get lemons, limes and heinekens for the Vietnamese New Year shindig Metro and ? were having at our house (they both studied in Nam) and all I came out with was some Busch light and old bay for the shrimp. They do have the big cases of vitamin water, though, which keeps me going back. Other than that, I always feel like I'm being watched in there, which isn't a pleasant feeling.
KFC- The mother of all lower income eateries and nexus of ghetto life in Eastern Shaw. This place is ridiculous. I never know what to expect going in there and coming out I feel nothing but relief. Sometimes, on its off hours it can be tolerable, but at its peak hours...I guess you could refer to it as the perfect storm.
The worst is a dinner rush on a weekend evening (around 7) in hot sunny weather. Blondie and I made the reckless mistake of walking right into mouth of the lion one evening about a month ago.
First, you have the people who work there who don't know their arms from their elbows and don't care what chicken goes where or how long it takes to get there. Although I guess I would be pretty lazy and apathetic, too if my work life revolved around chicken and biscuits. You have the agitated customers, who start to get a little crazy when they have to wait for their insulin shot that is fried chicken. You have the bums and beggars outside who sometimes infiltrate the store, preying on the naive and innocent-looking (i.e. confused white people). You have the straight crackheads who troll around for any kind of scrap of food they can get their grubby hands on even if it means digging through the dumpster in the back.
The time Blondie and I went in there during peak hours, this one crackhead targeted us outside while we were waiting 20 more minutes for white meat to come out of the oven. Then he followed us in inside, harassing us mercilessly for money and food, until another white guy came in and he switched gears for his next wave of harassment. When that didn't work out for him he came back to us, though and I had to enlist the help of a friendly hoodgoer who was next to us in line to wait for us to get our bucket of chicken and walk us out. He kindly obliged and we made it out alive.
But anyway, whether it's the neon lights of Yeung Fong, the overwhelming sense of sketchiness I feel every time I pass the Savemore or the radioactive smell of grease emanating from KFC, they are all sensations I have grown accustomed to in my frequent walks to and from the metro station. All three have steel bars on the windows and doors; an aesthetic that reflects the unwelcome treatment you usually receive inside.
But remember, if you're willing to go through all of that and then some, at least you'll come back with some mediocre chinese food, groceries that you didn't want and don't need and a sweet ass bucket of fried chicken.
Yeung Fong- The Chinese place across the street. I went there a lot when I first moved here, but then tapered off, realizing how bland and rubbery their food tastes. The General Tso's chicken tastes remarkably similar to the sesame chicken...and to the sweet and sour chicken...and every other chicken dish they have. Their sauces taste unnaturally gooey...to the point where I am questioning what it is that I'm eating. Their spring rolls are pretty money, though, although I guess it would be pretty hard to fuck those up. They also have a myriad of other things on their menu that I would be terrified to try, such as gyros, crab cakes, buffalo wings, fish sticks and God knows what else.
There is always a gang of hoodrats hanging out outside of Yeung Fong, filtering in and out with their big paper bags full of those mouthwatering delights concocted at Yeung Fong. Sometimes I'll see kids clumsily trying to ride skateboards that they probably stole from some unsuspecting white hipster kid (probably twice their age) a couple neigborhoods over. A favorite spot for the young blood to marinate and holler at the ladies. Going in there you have to wait a little while for your food, which puts you in position to receive catcalls from both inside and outside, since the door is always open and there is nowhere to stand inside to escape the line of sight of those lingering outside.
This is also where I first discovered the jacket, which I have since seen on only the trendiest of hoodgoers. It's a black bubble coat (big enough to fit whatever you can imagine in its numerous pockets) with bright gold dollar signs covering every inch of it. Some of them wear it through every season and the ones who do stand a little bit taller and strut a little bit fiercer (as if owning a jacket with dollar signs on it is some sort of substitute for actually having money) Who knew?
The Savemore- This place is pretty scary, no lie. I don't enjoy going in there at all, much less alone, but if I need something its the closest grocery store (if you can even call it that) so I'll go. But only during the day. It just seems like a hotbed for muggers and petty thieves. And its a complete hole in the wall so once you get inside I get the sinking feeling that whatever goes on in there can't be heard from the outside. The men who hang out in front of the savemore are a slimier and a bit older breed than those who hang out in front of Yeung Fong. I try not to look good when I go in there because having to walk past them going in and out the door makes me extremely nervous. And they can sense that, which makes me easy bait.
Anyway, it's slim pickins inside this "grocery store" or convenient store, whatever you want to call it. I went in there to get lemons, limes and heinekens for the Vietnamese New Year shindig Metro and ? were having at our house (they both studied in Nam) and all I came out with was some Busch light and old bay for the shrimp. They do have the big cases of vitamin water, though, which keeps me going back. Other than that, I always feel like I'm being watched in there, which isn't a pleasant feeling.
KFC- The mother of all lower income eateries and nexus of ghetto life in Eastern Shaw. This place is ridiculous. I never know what to expect going in there and coming out I feel nothing but relief. Sometimes, on its off hours it can be tolerable, but at its peak hours...I guess you could refer to it as the perfect storm.
The worst is a dinner rush on a weekend evening (around 7) in hot sunny weather. Blondie and I made the reckless mistake of walking right into mouth of the lion one evening about a month ago.
First, you have the people who work there who don't know their arms from their elbows and don't care what chicken goes where or how long it takes to get there. Although I guess I would be pretty lazy and apathetic, too if my work life revolved around chicken and biscuits. You have the agitated customers, who start to get a little crazy when they have to wait for their insulin shot that is fried chicken. You have the bums and beggars outside who sometimes infiltrate the store, preying on the naive and innocent-looking (i.e. confused white people). You have the straight crackheads who troll around for any kind of scrap of food they can get their grubby hands on even if it means digging through the dumpster in the back.
The time Blondie and I went in there during peak hours, this one crackhead targeted us outside while we were waiting 20 more minutes for white meat to come out of the oven. Then he followed us in inside, harassing us mercilessly for money and food, until another white guy came in and he switched gears for his next wave of harassment. When that didn't work out for him he came back to us, though and I had to enlist the help of a friendly hoodgoer who was next to us in line to wait for us to get our bucket of chicken and walk us out. He kindly obliged and we made it out alive.
But anyway, whether it's the neon lights of Yeung Fong, the overwhelming sense of sketchiness I feel every time I pass the Savemore or the radioactive smell of grease emanating from KFC, they are all sensations I have grown accustomed to in my frequent walks to and from the metro station. All three have steel bars on the windows and doors; an aesthetic that reflects the unwelcome treatment you usually receive inside.
But remember, if you're willing to go through all of that and then some, at least you'll come back with some mediocre chinese food, groceries that you didn't want and don't need and a sweet ass bucket of fried chicken.
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