Friday, December 11, 2009

You Damn Bastards

I had to leave town for a while. When I bailed, it was cold, but not all crazy ridiculous. Your hands might get a little cold, but you could still get shit done.

And then I return to Spoberia. I don't know how to sugar-coat this, and besides, we've always been brutally honest with each other: I LEFT YOU GUYS IN CHARGE! How could you let this happen???

Just look at what I found on my workbench . . .

When I left it was a perfectly useful bottle of drinking water. And now, ummm, that's the liquid part on top and air on the bottom. In other words, it don't flo no mo'. It would make a bitchin' bowling pin.


I have bike stuff to do . . . how am I supposed to work in this environment?

The ceiling in the shop never exactly got finished, so I can't hold any heat in.

Doctor Phil would advise me to take responsibility for my own inaction and stop blaming you, but I'm not ready for this kind of personal growth.

I had to stop and pick up six sheets of OSB to plug the hole in my little sky. I froze my ass off in the parking lot and I froze it off again when I unloaded it at home.

I'm sending you the bill.


Jason Gilman said...

Actually Pat this is on you. How could you possibly expect Spokane to stay warm without your own peculiar brand of bicycle blog sunshine? Glad you're back!

Pat S said...

Thanks, Jason. Weather notwithstanding, I'm sure glad to be home.

Alan said...

I was wondering why the blog hadn't been updated for a while. Now I know you were cheating on Spokane. Who is she? What city could possibly hold more for you than Spokane? Someplace trendy like Bend? (Bend's pretentious.) Someplace a little more cultural, like Portland? (That tramp!) You'd better not tell me it was Seattle! (Seattle's way past her heyday and her age is starting to show. Besides, what has she done for you lately?)

Pat S said...

Alan, nothing scandalous going on. But of the cities you mentioned, if I was gonna cheat, it would probably be with Portland. As it is, I'm leaving all the cheating to Tiger. I was in China. Believe me, Spokane is a sweet place to come home to.

Anonymous said...

Dear Mr. S.:

This note serves, perhaps, only as an overly tardy reminder of the content of your initial and repeated briefings regarding the urgent need for secrecy while traveling internationally under the auspices of the SHangai Investigative Team of SpoPo (SpoPoSHIT).

In brief: Shut up, roundeye.

However, since you've already leaked the destination of your mission, perhaps I can provide some small hope that current, delicate Sino-Spoko diplomatic relations will continue by advising you that, under no circumstances, should you explain what the hell you were doing in China.

Eyes only,

Mock Soo Ott, Undercover Agent Man, SpoPoPaPaCaCa, SpoSHIT Detail.

Pat S said...

Dee Meesta Ott,

The delusional state under which you were operating during our initial meeting now seems like childs play in comparison to your current sense of, dare I use the word, "reality", as vividly portrayed (to your eyes only) through your imaginary picture frame into the world of international affairs. Or maybe it is a broken television that talks to you. But that is beside the point.

I have taken your advice into consideration. And I am so overwhelmed by the burden of gratitude that I have no choice but to reciprocate:

The world is a very big place. It may be prudent to restrict your domain to an area that is more manageable. In particular, considering that the recent snowfall will make you much easier to track, I submit that the relatively small confines of Manito Park will certainly be sufficient to overflow your cup of adventure.

If, however, you choose to disregard my heartfelt suggestion as I suspect will be the case, might I recommend that the most appropriate form of transportation on future China missions, given the details of your psyche you have chosen to share, would be the slow boat.

Godspeed, and try to stay away from the chicken feet and anything that looks like duck liver.

Yours in the solidarity of SpoPoSHIT,

Mr. S.