runner : rider

Runner: I spend a lot of my running time on shared cycle/pedestrian paths. Often you come zooming past from behind and I don’t even know you’re there. It can be quite a shock. Couldn’t you ring your bell or something?

Rider: Dude. A bell would add like 30 grams to my bike. That’s going to seriously slow me down.

Runner: Maybe you could try the new Shimano Ultramicronads. It’s a bell made out of a lightweight titanium alloy, weighs in at 8 grams and costs about $300. I hear Lance Armstong and Schapelle Corby use one.

Rider: I think you mean Cadel Evans. Sounds good but still, 8 extra grams.

Runner: Well you could always lose a few kilos from your gut.

Rider: That’s a bit below the belt.

Runner: Actually your gut is above your belt but now that you mention it you’re carrying a bit of excess baggage on your fat arse too. If you can’t use a bell couldn’t you at least call out to let me know you’re about to pass?

Rider: I suppose I could but it might shatter my mental state. See every time I pass a rider I’m telling myself that I’ve broken away from the bidon for my sprint down the Champ du Ulysses and I’m passing another Belgian drug cheat just before the finishing line.

Runner: OK. Whatever. But if I do hear you coming up behind don’t be surprised if I hog the middle of the path or throw an elbow.

Filed Under Two wheels, Vent | 3 Comments

Missed opportunity

The other night at the pub I had a some hideously strong Belgian beers, which produced a few great ideas for Giant Chimney rants.

I have forgotten them now.

Fuck it!

Oh well, John Howard sucks! Like OMG LOLz!

Filed Under Blah | 1 Comment

Know your limits

I am not known to bake. But as the old people are off spending my inheritance on another overseas jaunt, I thought it only right that I should make a bit of a fuss of my brother on his birthday. We are a small family, after all.

I decided that patty cakes might be manageable on this, my first foray into baking since a childhood that was busy with the making of slices and cakes. Cupcakes are are social, as everyone can have one, and they are sort of quirky and homemade. And simple. Or so I thought.

I am not going to share recipes and methodlogies with you, but will cut to the chase and lament the overflowing wonders that I watched slide, merge and rise as a puffy mass in my oven. Those papers are useless and crap. But the outcome tastes great and when the icing went on you could tell what they were supposed to be. They weren’t presented to a gasping crowd of friends at the birthday celebrations as I chickened out and left them on the fridge. The birthday boy did get a surprise delivery, however, and super dog and I enjoyed a few for Sunday afternoon tea.
Now I can empathise with women who become mothers and are thrown into the who-can-make-the-most-speccy-cake competitions that are children’s birthday parties.