Midnight bike rides part eleventy-million

Tuesday, I went out for a bike ride, just to get a little air, and ended up at the blue note, which has become my bar of first resort. I actually made really good time on the ride in, at least for me: 7 miles in half an hour.

When I got there, Chris was sitting at the bar (hi chris). Next thing I know, I'm doing an irish car bomb with him and Victoria, and the night rolls out from there. A couple beers and a couple shots later, we head back to Chris' house. On the way, I confirmed what I'd heard earlier in the day: my work had all been taken down from Sauced. It's gone, and I'm pissed. Fuck Sauced.

Eyeing a bolt-hole to attach the chain guard.


Anyway, we got to Chris' house, which he shares with KW, and I watched Lisa put the finishing touches on her bike. It's a cute girl cruiser, fashionable and functional.

The bike. Yes, I know it'a a little blurry, so was I.

Then I rode my ass home, no idea how long it took, but it was a pretty nice ride, except for the south wind. I always pass by this last scene, but for some reason early on April Fool's day, it grabbed me. Who cares if I look foolish? Nobody was around, anyway.

Blue Note. Again.

At the blue note on a wednesday, although I started the night at McNellie's. It feels better to be making portraits, although I've lost all sense as to whether these are any good or not. I was just a little off the whole night (actually, for the last several nights) and I can't put my finger on why, exactly. Oh well, it'll work itself out.

Cat gives me the crazy eye.
This is a look that says "I can't believe I've run into my ex" and "How can I get away from him?" Trust me, I was there.
Cyrus does normal? is this a fluke?

ok, some pictures already

It was a nice uneventful weekend... well, things happened, but it was fun and nobody got hurt this time, which is to say no fights, trips to the hospital, supergluing of wounds, etc. So all of the things that have defined my weekends of partying didn't happen. Just drinking, followed by sobering up in some chill spot (thanks to the bike cave and the schofield house, respectively, for their hospitality). Anyway, photos:

Matty at HiLo- yes, that's a plastic tiara on his head.
Tanner, at the bike cave, concentrating on some Texas hold 'em. I passed out like a narcoleptic on valium.
Andria, while she was getting me shitfaced on sunday afternoon. Jager is still a good time though.
Bartender, chatting. This was moments after she was showing off her tongue's lack of connective tissue. I like this picture better though.
Trinity and her beau, forgotten his name. She was saying something about me taking pictures at monster's ball.
Rainstorms, tonight. Hope tomorrow is nice, I've got work to do.

I'll only add to these that three times in the past five days women have offered to pose scantily/provocatively clad for me. I'm not a skeezy dude, they asked me, but it's kinda funny. What change in my complete lack of game caused all this? More as it develops. (oh yeah, and bike polo post soon).

I suck at team sports pt 1

I'm sure there will eventually be a part two to this, but my stomach started disagreeing with me, and is only now, a day and a half later, finally settling down. So I only played one game, and only shot two of them, and then I ran off to drink (see previous post). Anyway, here's the goods: