An excellent drunken Saturday.

[leeroysphitz]

First I ambled out of bed at around 9:30, made some coffee snarfed an English muffin and hit the computer.

I turned on 3WK internet radio to check out some new indie music while I surfed the lounge looking for people to fuck with. Finding no posts worth copycatting i chose to declare my intentions to begin drinking as soon as I finished my coffee (at around 11 am). Beach Baby seemed to concur and I felt less like a degenerate alcoholic. (YAY!)

I then cracked a 40 ouncer of Molson Ice. After finishing this and making a few useless and forgetable posts in the lounge I hopped the shower. I really needed a good shave too.

Once cleaned and groomed I went outside into the world of the day and talked to the guy who my landlord had hired to paint the garage. He seemed trustworthy and sensible so I decided to expend the last of my buzz on a nice 2 mile bike ride to my local indie record store to look for some of the bands I had heard earlier in the day on 3WK.

On the way there I saw some asshole on a mountain bike who had the unmitigated AUDACITY to be in front of me. Well, I decided to show him what one motivated cyclist and his single speed balloon tired cruiser could accomplish and set about catching up to him with the intention of passing and humiliating him. All was going along swimmingly when, in front of me between me and my quarry, I spotted a couple of hapless pedestrians. They steadfastly refused to look behind them and see me so I was forced, in order to avoid riding them down as is my right as a cyclist, too veer off to the right of them. This selfless act sent the rear rim of my fabulous black Huffy cruiser into a stubbornly concrete curb bending it into a rather useless (for a wheel) MOBIUS type shape.

I had to give up on passing the asshole on the mountain bike but fortunately I was about 2 and one half blocks from my neighborhood bicycle shop. I walked these in shame and dropped my fabulous Huffy cruiser off for immediate repair. However, immediacy for Adventure Bicycle in Dearborn Heights Michigan means "Monday or Tuesday". I was forced to walk back home.

Even after this humiliation the notion of hitting the record store still seemed like a good one so once I got home and told my tale of frustration to they guy painting my garage I mounted my other bike, the fabulous KHS Alite 100 with the fabulous Kenda Kross road tires, and reset about my original design.

I made my way, without notable incident, to the record store. Once there I noticed a staff of many fine looking young men and women who all seemed to disdain my musical selections, somehow know and scorn my musical tastes and resent my effrontery at actually making purchases at their store but I persevered and bought a "Margot and The Nuclear So and So's" album I had heard earlier in the day.

With new CD in pocket I decided that while I was downtown I would hit the local Michael's and buy some glossy white spray paint, some flat black spray paint, some neon green and fire-engine red acrylic paint and some brushes to paint this home made plaster bust of Elvis I bought at a thrift store in Detroit almost twenty years ago like the Joker from The Dark Knight. When I reached the Michael's, however, they were closed, permanently. Out of business as it were and I couldn't think of another arts and crafts type store within riding distance.

It was then that I decided to just ride a few miles up the road to a very "Irish" pub that had an outdoor patio enclosure and wi-fi access.

When I got to O'Blarney Mulligen McKibben's (or whatever...) The internet access was inexplicably down, so I was unable to update to the lounge via my fabulous Ipod Touch, but the sun was very much out so I sat on the patio and nursed (swiigged) two bottles of Bud along with Two Jim Beams on the rocks giving my matronly and attentive bartenderess a fine tip of 3.50 USD.

When nearly finished with my drinks I wondered to my self (I think) if I could not drunkenly ride the four or so miles home, on my fabulous KHS Alite 100 mountain bike with the equally fabulous Kenda Kross road tires, entirely "no-handed". I decided that I could. No-fuckin-sweat.

As it turned out I was able to ride no-handed quite easily, despite my inebriation. So I felt the time had come to up the ante.

I decided to stop at a liquor store that, as it turns out, was only a few shops down from the bike shop that I had visited earlier in the day (South Western Michigan has more Liquor stores than Starbucks...). I purchased (2) 40 ouncers of Molson Ice and a pint of Jim Beam. I had the clerk put all of this into a single plastic bag. I then heroically mounted my fabulous KHS Alite 100 mountain bike and wandered into traffic trying to balance my buzz and the arm full of heavy glass bottles filled with alcoholic yumminess all while maintaining the critical stipulation of no-handedness imposed on myself (by myself) earlier at a nameless "Irish" pub, some few miles from my home.

Well I trudged and slogged "no-handed" against a vicious head wind with my burden for nearly 2 more miles all the while riding on the straight-a-ways and the ninety degree turns, the pot holes and the traffic of my suburban neighborhood with a large plastic liquor store bag dangling first from my left side and then from my right as the wind shifted.

Finally I wended my way home only to find that my orphaned threads were just as orphaned as ever and that my wife and sons were still away from the house unable to provide the guidance AND disciplined structure I need to function as a decent human being...

It was then that I decided to start drinking in earnest down in my basement where my computer is and to craft this drunken monologue to the lounge... Thank god for spellchick...