Me and Dave

I have an announcement to make. I intended to go to the grave with this information known only to me and to one other. Not my own grave, mind you, but the grave of Fatty Arbuckle, until I remembered that he was cremated, and his ashes were spread over the Pacific Ocean. I suppose I could have gone to the Pacific Ocean with the information, but it just wouldn't be the same without a headstone upon which to unleash my mourning and reflection. I wonder if they make floating headstones for burials at sea. If they don't I have dibs on inventing them. Don't even think about stealing my idea. Blogs are legally binding in patent court. You can look it up. I don't expect to have a grave of my own, choosing instead to fall from a cliff to be left in anonymity and natural disgrace as the wild boars of Dover feast on my corpse.

I can no longer keep my secret to take to anybody's grave, even convenient ones like that of Wally Dandrel, who put his grave on the Internet (www.wallylieshere.com). The circumstances surrounding my secret have become too volatile to hold dear, thanks to that blabbermouth, David Letterman. Since, as you may have heard in the news lately, the ex-weatherman late night funny man seems determined to scrub his dirty laundry on national television using the ancient art of monologue, not unlike the Sophoclean King Creon as he set forth a course for the demise of his own insouciant little world, I thought I had better fess up before I ended up in another Top Ten list (the other time was March 6th, 1989: Top Ten Microbial Disinfectants Used by the Supreme Court).


I had an affair with David Letterman.


There. I said it. I'm not proud of it, but I'm also not ashamed of it. He was good to me. Although our affair never made it to the orifice compromising stages many people associate with affairs, the emotions were the same, because there was magic in that hand shake on that bus that day. And like Oprah, he was gentle and tender with me and held me afterward as I wept.

I admit this now in the hopes of saving my family from further embarrassment and to keep the tabloids and paparazzi at bay. That, and I want to ensure they get my part of the story correct when the very special made for TV movie about the David Letterman Affairs is released in time for the February sweeps this television season (starring the caustic Danny Bonaduce as the ambrosial Moist Rub). I'm sure they will offer a generous royalty package for those of us who have become victims of Letterman's lechery as we are splattered across television sets worldwide. Also, look for a cameo by Richard Simmons as an anonymous shopper at Rupert Jee's Hello Deli. He's fabulous!

Demographic Awareness Month

In case you didn't notice all the pink around football stadiums this weekend (and I'm not talking about the cheerleaders), the NFL added some fab pink accents to their uniforms to promote Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

As the newest member of the mommy blogger community I'm all for breast cancer awareness, but given the typical NFL fan isn't the message a little displaced? With all the men in the audience, wouldn't prostate cancer awareness make more sense? Or given the amount of red meat being grilled up at tailgate parties outside the stadium make colon cancer awareness slightly more appropriate? I think it might take a little more prodding to get those prostate exams and colonoscopies done. Pun intended.

I'm sure all the football widows around the nation are thrilled that their husbands are offering to give them breast exams after a long day of drinking and eating bratwurst.

But seriously, take care of yourselves. See a doctor once in a while. Eat an apple. Go for a walk. Feel your boobies. And if you're a guy, you shouldn't have boobies so you might want to lay off the cheesy poofs.

Knee Jerk Reaction of the Day

Okay, I got the message. Nobody reads the blog, everyone misses Moist Rub and the last post was outed as a thinly veiled attempt to show how cool I am by telling you about bands you never heard of.

I'm quitting, going to pretend I'm a woman, and join the mommy blog community.

Thanks and regards,

Sid

Show Me The Way

In planning my upcoming concert calendar, it appears there are some conflicts... I think I already know which shows I'm choosing, but which would you pick? (This is also a covert way to see if anyone still reads this damn blog.)

Scheduling Conflict #1

Which show would you choose? Juliette Lewis Supersuckers Current Results

Scheduling Conflict #2

Which show would you choose? Screaming Females Teenage Jesus and the Jerks Current Results

Scheduling Conflict #3

Which show would you choose? Cage The Elephant Poster Children Current Results

Scheduling Conflict #4

Which show would you choose? Devo Keb Mo Meat Puppets Current Results

I Salute You, Brother

I just discovered that Jim Carroll died, died last Friday. I confess I've never read any of his stuff and I've never seen The Basketball Diaries, but damn if he didn't put out one of my favorite songs.

No Logic On The Horizon

I’m clearly schizophrenic when it comes to music. I scoff at popular music with nearly the gusto of the indie hipster with the fixie, but will readily ‘fess up to downloading a top 40 tune to feed my appreciation for the perfect pop song. I’ll make fun of those same indie hipsters, but then throw down a Neutral Milk Hotel lyric just to mess with people. I despise the big stadium show and make fun of people who go to see Elton John and Billy Joel in this decade. And then I get tickets to see U2 at Soldier Field.

And then come here to report that the show was absolutely spectacular. They’re really fucking good. Despite all that shit The Edge does with effects, the songs play well to a stadium show. The ridiculously large claw structure and video screen that they’re carting around the world is awe inducing. And that they can coordinate the sound, effects, lighting, video and technology for this event seemingly without a hitch is a logistical and production achievement that blows my mind and really needs to be seen. It was like being in the middle of an MTV video. In a good way. Not one of those Men Without Hats videos where they dance around a renaissance faire, either.

I’m Sid F’er, and I approve this tour. Save up some cash, sell a kid if you need to, but get yourself a ticket.

If I have some time I’ll add some additional details of our day, aka Mrs. F’er Bueller’s Day Off.

F'er Living

My doctor gave me another six months to live with an option to renew, so I was feeling pretty good today. As such, instead of my mid-afternoon snack consisting of a can of Pringles crushed and sprinkled over a quart of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia, I decided to celebrate my continued existence by treating my body like the Temple of Doom which it is and sliced up some sticks of celery.

I also learned that you're not supposed to put celery in a garbage disposal. Who the hell knew? Oh, I guess everyone.

I swear if they made levees out of shredded celery, New Orleans would still be standing today. After a half hour under the sink unplugging pipes (not a euphemism), I learned my lesson. Stick to ice cream and Pringles.

On The Waterfront

I was a very strange kid. I wanted to be a meteorologist when I grew up. Well, not exactly... more like I wanted to be the TV weatherman. I even had one of those Junior Weatherman kits that you could use to measure rainfall, wind speed and temperature and a log to record it all. Of course, this was well before Excel was invented so I lost interest and took up something more interesting, like bowling. Now I'm embarrassed to admit I still don't really understand what the dew point is and why I need to know that.

I also don't understand why the weather report on the news takes five minutes. All we really care about is the damn forecast. Do I need to wear my slicker and rubbers, or can I just wear my "Somebody Went To Branson And All I Got Was This Stupid Shirt" shirt? Instead we get computer models, high pressure systems, doppler radars and a recap of the current weather in case we're shut-ins and just curious what it was like outside today.

But I'll let it slide as long as the forecast continues to bring the weather we've had this week - sunny and 70's without a cloud in the sky. It's even brought out a kinder, gentler Sid, and I've left the mean streets to take the slightly longer and more crowded lakefront path home on my bike. Click on images for full size versions if your eyes suck or if you just want to further admire my iPhone skillz.


Leaving downtown, just north of Ohio Street Beach, ferris wheel at Navy Pier in the background.


Accidental photo of me and my shadow and the evil black Trek since I don't have a new Globe bicycle yet.


A little further north at Oak Street Beach near the Gold Coast. Not sure what all those people are running from - probably some sort of sasquatch.


Just over halfway home looking back toward downtown from near Diversey Harbor. The woman is clearly not amused with my riding thong and is calling the authorities.

You Don't Sing Me Love Songs...

I came home and found this today... I think my wife has a new boyfriend.

Globe Trekking

Anyone who has read this blog over the last 4 years and 500+ posts knows that bikes are a big part of my life. But this isn’t a bike blog. Just like the guy in the Dos Equis ads, I am striving to be the world’s most interesting biker rather than post reviews of the latest titanium water bottle cage to hit the market. You’ll also be more likely read about the great city of Chicago and the awesome events to which I can ride my bike, rather than just post videos of myself trying to perfect my track stand at the traffic light on my way to a superhero tap dance opera.

As such, I’m not sure I’ll be chosen to test out a bike as part of the Globe Experience Project that Globe Bikes is running to promote the rollout of their new line.

So my plan is to trick them by offering them a challenge they cannot refuse. The Godfather strategy.

You see, we have six bikes in our household of two people. It seems like a lot, but that’s only three a piece – two full-suspension Specialized Stumpjumper mountain bikes that guided us through Crested Butte, two nimble Specialized Allez Elite road bikes that survived the Hotter n’ Hell Hundred in Wichita Falls, and an old Specialized Rockhopper that the Mrs. uses as a commuter bike. Wait, you say that’s only five? By golly, you’re right. I guess I left out my daily commuter/errand bike, a 1991 Trek 820 Antelope, of which I am the original owner.

Does Globe Bikes believe that they finally have a bike that can finally replace my 18 year-old Trek and make this an exclusive Specialized/Globe household? I’m willing to give it shot and show off their bike around town if they are.

This year alone the bike would have seen daily commutes to work on my 15-mile round trip, but also visits to events at Pritzker Pavilion, Grant Park, the Athenaeum Theatre, Lakeview Music Fest, i/o, Wrigley Field, the Vic Theater, and too numerous to mention shops and restaurants along the miles of bike routes outside my front door.

And if Globe isn’t up for the challenge, well, they just might wake up with a stripped headset in their bed.

The evil black Trek trying to steal the spotlight from the Specialized.