craigslist

I love cellulitis.

So, I'm finally doing it. I'm finally contributing to the blog Sasha has monopolized during her unemployment while I've been partaking in more lucrative ludicrous endeavors...What do I mean by that? Oh, liiiiiiiike all the WFI worthy things that I can't write about because of that whole "the internet is not for talking about personal things" lesson I learned. I'm just not ready to reveal my constant personal failure to the world like Sasha does on a regular basis.

So, I've been doing this thing...riding my bike for the past year, which I've previously mentioned. And doing this other thing...reading about bikes via a local message board for a few months which I have not yet mentioned. I don't know how this fact has managed to escape a blog post so far, as my mere presence on that board is ripe with WFIs. I read every thread and every post and grow more acutely aware of the ways in which it is entirely inappropriate that I post there. But the truths of it are:

1. I know how to ride a bike, a basic requirement.
2. I do ride just about every day.
3. It moves way faster than any other board I currently post on, therefore is nearly endless entertainment--especially when getting lost in a google-induced clicking vortex trying to figure out whatall bikey things they're talking about.
4. I only joined an internet message board about bikes cause I wanted to make friends. If that's not a WFI, then I don't know what this blog stands for anymore.

Why I felt the fervent need to find some bike friends, I'm not sure. I have friends. My friends have bikes. However, in true my friends fashion, they don't mix bikes (or physical activity beyond croquet/badminton/frisbee) and friendship. But the ride to and from work was getting boring and lonely and here on this board were people that rode their bikes for no reason at all! In groups!! To hang out!!! And I found that interesting. So, as soon as another new girl signed up for the board after me, I asked her to go for a ride. Now, if I were Sasha, you could *insert lesbian joke here* but I'm not Sasha. You can tell by the coherence of my blogging.

This other new-to-the-forum girl and I decided we'd ride on Sunday. Sunday is brunch day. We'd have brunch and then bike! And we'd invite other people. It was an intensely unusual experience for me that first Brunch and Bike, but I persevered beyond my awkwardness and various incapabilities and kept going. In the following weeks, I started to remember people's names and minor facts about their lives. And when I see them on other days that aren't Sundays, we say hi to each other. I'm even friends with some of them on facebook. I can't quite say this all means we're friends, but it's a damn good start! So, I like the Brunch and Bike thing. It's good fun.

This most recent Sunday, I hosted the brunch part at my house. This was by far the largest gathering (lots of new people) and perhaps the most productive when it comes to food contributions. Everyone brought something really awesome and helped cook or clean and it was, with the amazing weather and not having to leave my house initially, altogether, my favorite gathering so far. We rode out through Roslindale to Stonybrook Reservation. No one had ever been there, including me, but we found it and rode through the paved trails in the woods. It was really beautiful and there were some stupid hills, but for the most part it was very rideable and fun. I wanted to go to Turtle Pond, so we headed down the hill to find it. And we did! This is the WFI.

As we approached a small pond, I was unaware it was, in fact, Turtle Pond, our destination. I was second to last in our line with one person quite a bit behind me. This is where things get fuzzy. I know I looked behind me to see who was there. I know I noticed the pond. I just don't remember when I looked forward or what I saw because things just happened so fast. I imagine as people started to slow, with no one calling a stop, it forced the bikes out of line, moving more left and aligning horizontally into the road. With one kid moving in front of me to avoid hitting someone else, the only one calling "STOP!" and my only warning to brake hard, I screamed a bit like "MIIIIKEARARGHUHHHGHH!" as I collided from behind with his left side. We both flipped over, a tangled mess of limbs, bikes, and blood.

Everyone was super great after that and, note to self, always crash with other people. They will move your bike, help clean your wound, give you bandaids, offer good advice, and somehow make you not feel like an asshole who just ruined everyone's good time. Mike was hurt as well, but he was wayyyyy more cool about it. I had involuntary shakes and was nauseous. I didn't cry though!!! That is a first. We sat around on the dock in the sun for a while, socializing.

We went home when it started to get colder. My ride was a little stiff, but I wasn't too worried. I figured I'd scab up, no big deal, and take unreasonably long to heal completely like always.

The rest of Sunday was fine. Monday was a lazy, rainy day, but scabbing over well. Tuesday, I resumed regularly scheduled activities: bike to gym, train, shower, go to work. The shower softened the scab on my hand so that it split open and began to ooze again. No worries, I thought. I put a bandage over it, a glove, and gave the first facial of the day. WORST. FUCKING. IDEA. Water got inside my glove and under the bandage = SEARING, BURNING, STINGING PAIN! I replaced the bandaid, new glove and I toughed it out and waxed a few people. On a break, I knew I had to clean the oozy scab. WORST FUCKING IDEA. I swabbed it with alcohol = SEARING, BURNING, STINGING PAIN! I replaced a bandage and waxed my next client, a surgeon. Before we started her facial, I had her peek at the wound which had grown increasingly pink and hot and began spreading a pink line up my wrist along my vein. She said it was nothing and maybe make an appointment with my PCP and get an antibiotic. I was still worried, so I canceled the rest of my facials, moved my waxes earlier, and went to the emergency room right from work.

I checked in, showed the nurse the wound and sat down for what I imagined would be hours judging by the fact it was 1. an emergency room and 2,3. there was a heroin overdose and a broken hand waiting before me. But, surprise! I was called almost as soon as I sat down and expedited straight to the second waiting area. Broken Hand was right behind me and I was still called before her again AND people who were there before me. Total wait time at the emergency room: approx. 20 minutes. I started to think I had some serious business going on. A doctor came in,
looked at it for a minute and asked a few questions and then informed me I have cellulits, I'd be getting an IV of antibiotics and staying overnight in observation, and should be released in the morning. WTF WTF WTF!!! Should? Should be released?! WTF does that mean? Oh, well, if the infection worsens, or spreads deeper into your wrist or nerve endings, or you have an adverse reaction to the antibiotics.... ENOUGH. That's enough, I told him. Get me the IV. Then I was told someone would come in to talk to me about being part of a study and someone else would come in to start the IV. The IV happened first, so I had to sit around with shit sticking out of the top of my left hand next to vials of my blood. This is either gross or cool. I can't decide. I eventually agreed to be part of the study and waaaaaaaaaaaaited. And waaaaaaaaaaaaaited. I tried to focus on the magazine article I was reading but couldn't help glancing at the blood vials. What do they do with them?! Where is my blood now? Hopefully in a lab somewhere making really cute blood babies...

This is where a whole host of of BFIs start happening. A man came with a wheelchair to wheel me up to the observation floor. Apparently, a skin infection on my wrist meant I was not allowed to walk. I laughed the whole way and he made fun of me the whooooole way. Then I met my nurse who was totally rad. She gave me pajamas and footie socks, set me up with the tv, and asked me if I was hungry. I said yes and imagined what I would want. I thought turkey sandwich and frozen yogurt would be awesome. She says, "How about a turkey sandwich?" "YES." "And maybe I can get you some frozen yogurt. Is that ok?" "I was just thinking those two items would be my dream meal, so yes. Yes, that is ok." Moments later she was back with a bag full of turkey sandwich, apple juice, apple sauce, ice cream (no froyo, oh well), and graham crackers. I fucking LOVE the hospital. Then I watched CABLE! Fuck yeah! I watched a creepy show about pageants on TLC. Then the nurse practitioner came in and checked me out, asked me if I was in pain and do I want a percocet for the SEARING, BURNING, STINGING PAIN? Uh, YEAH! Moments, later I was on percocet, scooping ice cream with my graham crackers watching Sex and the City.

When I finally got the IV started, it was instant relief. Before the whole bag was
finished, the red streak had calmed down. I was just about to fall asleep when I was moved to a private room with a really nice view and some more apple sauce. The hospital was like a mix between a luxury condo, a hotel, and a spa. I loved every second. I got a new IV bag every four hours for one hour each which means I had to wake up 4 times, but it was all very nice percocet sleep, so I can't say I minded.

I called my mom at 5:30am when I woke up to tell her I was in the hospital and freak her out. Mission accomplished. In the morning, a doctor came in, said I was all better, that I shouldn't go to work, that I can't do any facials and breakfast should be in any moment. It was all bittersweet news. All of that was good. I'm going to live! I don't have to work! But I had to go home!! Nooooooo! After watching some Rachel Ray and some Martha, pancakes, oj, and cheerios with a banana, I signed some papers and reluctantly got dressed.

The only thing to do with my time today was get wicked good food and lay in bed all day watching American Idol and writing this blog, taking 4 pills (2 rotten egg tasting ones, and 2 sour milk tasting ones) every 4 hours. That's my participation in the study. I have to keep a diary about if I have diarrhea or not too. I have to do this for 7 days and then I get $50. Wish me luck!!!

I can't say I loved having cellulitis. But I can't say I didn't love it either. Oh. Who am I kidding?

AIM

I've been riding my bike.

For two weeks, I've taken the Southwest Corridor to work. I really like riding my bike and all the fears I had surrounding riding in the city are gone. It takes between 15 and 20 minutes to get to work, which is much faster than the train. On very hot days, riding is a cool breeze. At night, it keeps me from the temptation of taking a cab home. So, riding my bike: BFI.

I've gotten so used to the speed of getting around. A ten minute walk takes 2 or 3 minutes on the bike. So, after my 8 am doctor's appointment (you can guess the kind...) and trying to fit 40 minutes of cardio intensity into 30 minutes at the gym, I got ready like lightning and hopped on my bike like the wind. I always follow traffic laws. I haven't done a lot of research on biking rules or anything, but when in doubt, I always imagine I am a car and think, WWJD? If he was driving a car, that is. But on Thursday, I was running late to work.

Consider this map for a moment: MAP See where it says Newbury St? Find Berkeley St. Now Find Commonwealth Ave.

So, I ALWAYS ride down Berkeley (a one-way), take a right on Comm Ave, and another right onto Arlington (a one-way), so I can get onto the sidewalk in front of the former Ritz, which is now The Taj, and park my bike in front of work. This is the way Jesus driving a car would go. But you know, I notice a lot of people riding up Newbury St. the wrong way as a short cut. I know this is wrong. I know. But, A LOT of people do it. Every day, a lot of people break the law and I see them and they look like nice, happy people. So, the day I was going to be late to work, I decided, I would be less like Jesus and more like nice, happy people and go the wrong way up Newbury St, a one-way street. This is where the BFI becomes the WFI.

After about two car lengths of breaking the law, a woman I'd guess is in her early 40's, stepped out from between two cars to cross the street and just so happened to be right in front of me. I screamed, "WHOA" and swerved to miss her. Due to her inaction, we collided and I fell directly on my knee and ankle, ripping my jeans, scraping my knee, and spraining my ankle. When I looked over, she was on the ground as well. Before I could say, "Are you ok?" she started yelling at me. "Just WHAT were YOU doing riding the WRONG way down a ONE WAY street?!!?" I just stared at her, shocked, and said, "What were you doing not in a crosswalk." She didn't say anything. I noticed the rip in my jeans and the blood as I got up. I said, "We are both wrong. Leave it at that. I'm sorry. I have to go to work now." And started walking off in a daze. She followed me yelling YOU SHOULD GET A TICKET!!! In an unusual coincidence, there happened to be a motorcade of state troopers on the block at that moment. A mustachioed, aviator wearing cliche of a trooper walked up to me and asked if a car hit me. I said no, a lady walked in front of me and I fell. He seemed satisfied with that until whatshername huffed and puffed her way over and said to him, "She was going the wrong way down a one way street!!! I think she should get a ticket!" She was seeking justice, that's for sure, straight from the law enforcement themselves. The officer looked at me, the bike, me again and back at her and shrugged, "It's not a very fast bike." "Don't you think she should get a ticket?!" Then he snapped into action, "You know. You're not supposed to do that, you know. It's not a fast bike and you're not a messenger, but if you were going fast, you could really hurt someone." "Oh, I know. I'm sorry." "Don't you think she should get a ticket?!" The woman wouldn't let it go. He just looked at her and deadpanned, "Are you alright." It was not as lost on me as it was on her. She began to answer with her voice all quivery, "Oh, I'm fine. I'm a little shooken up is all. I'll feel this tomorrow." To which the officer answered with a, "Wellp." And we all walked away from each other.

So, I ruined her day by doing something I wasn't supposed to do. She ruined my day by doing the same. We were even. It was all pretty shitty though. Especially the swelling and bruises on my foot and the oozing road rash on my knee. My friend couldn't come get me from work cause his car was broken. Waiting for a minivan cab took an hour and a half and cost me five extra dollars. Nothing good came from being less like Jesus.

Halfway through my first client, I realized I also lost my phone in the ordeal. So, goodbye all those phone numbers I had but rarely used! I'm currently trying to track down the person who found it and is calling a bunch of people. They can keep the phone. I just want my numbers. Seems like the person who found it has a lot of spanish speaking friends, so my guess is one of the construction workers at Brooks Brothers found it since it happened right out front. Or maybe I left it at the gym and the cleaning ladies found it and don't want to return it. Either way, I feel disconnected and as if time does not exist. In other words, lonely.

To take care of any bad karma accrued because of the incident, I have decided to be a monthly donor to Greenpeace. Perhaps stopping to talk to those crazy solicitors on the corners of Starbucks is going to bite me in my butt, but at least I'll help save some indigenous people of the forests up in Canada from having their land clear cut by Kimberly Clark. Perhaps it's another WFI. We'll see how long it lasts.

So, anyway. I haven't been riding my bike anymore.

THUNDERDOME! and possible final blog ever.

So, I'm packing as we speak to go to Seattle tonight. All this week people have been wishing me luck, saying heartfelt goodbyes, and saying they're really going to miss me. My mom and sister even came down to visit on Thursday. And we all went to a meet and greet/fare well dinner with Emma, Kaitlin, and Mary. Katie and Emma called me on speaker phone last night to tell me they're going to miss me, but I'd talked to them less than an hour before and would see them less than an hour later. It was really starting to creep me out, the melodrama. So, I'm convinced I will probably die on this trip. Now, I'm not afraid of planes and I don't think someone will kill me, but you know, I might die. Everyone has said their final goodbyes and I've spent time with everyone I really love and I think it would be okay, really. I guess. I mean, as okay as dying can be. So, it is not so amazing this blog entry, it's not so WFI, but it may be my last WFI and final blog ever. So, you're going to have to read it and like it. If I live to tell the tales of my future misadventures, I'll remember your goodwill in reading this story of Thunderdome and grace you with PICTURE blogs as I've bought a new camera. Stay tuned. I'm sure Sasha will have at least 88 blogs to keep you entertained between now and my computer ETA next week.s

Intent on having one fantastic night of fun before I leave for my 10 day trip to the northwest coast and my imminent death, I initially wanted to beg for tickets outside Rilo Kiley and see my favorite band in the entire world for the 10th time or so, go out dancing and crash before 3 to wake up early and do laundry and pack. I spent most of the day incredibly stressed out doing all the errands I needed to get done before leaving. In typical fashion, I had a small, hunger induced emotional meltdown on the phone in a changing room at the mall and me and Emma decided to scrap that idea and just go to some dance party later on.

Then I ate mall chinese food and fuck anyone who thinks that's anywhere near a BFI. Cause it's not. I ate it in the cab home and got sticky shit all over me. Eating greasy food in the dark is really difficult. I like to think perhaps the last advice I'll ever give you is "Don't eat mall chinese food in a cab." Makes slipping into eternity all the more comforting.

Moving on. We were invited to a dance party by my ongoing 1A. He's neat. And since we can't go anywhere without a group, Heidi, Elise, Elise's friends, Heidi's friend Brittany, and Patti all met us there. We didn't know what to expect really. I imagined a super sweaty dance party in a cramped legion hall, shirtless boys hanging from American flag poles, girls we don't know who don't want to be friends with us lined up at the bathroom, inventing new dance moves to avoid people we know and don't like while trying to strategically dance near cute boys, and general mayhem. Our usual Friday night. We show up to the American Legion on the Charles in Cambridge and the party is outside! Next to the river! There's beer! There's flashing lights! Theres tons of people we DON'T know! Awesome. I guess it was like a rave only not completely retarded. I've really only seen those things happen in Lifetime movies. Although I can't say anyone wasn't slipped roofies and raped last night, I CAN say there were several djs, we drank several beers, we hung out with several friends we actually like, and had several hours of fun. What what!

Thunderdome Recap:
Sweaty dance party: negative
Fun non-sweaty dance party: CHECK! (my favorite kind!)
Idiot boys: negative
Girls in bathroom line: indoors
People we know and don't like: nowhere in sight.

Who could ask for more?

Toward the end of the night Mary says, "Hey that guy looks like Craig!" Emma says, "Everyone here looks like Craig!" Then I said, "It is Craig!!!" Craig is like, king of Boston bike dudes, is some sort of team leader, and had some organizational role in the Pee Party. I don't really know him or much about him, but he's one of Emma's best friends. So we hung out with Craig for a little bit to find an after party with some pot since I left my drugs at home. After much discussion (Should we go to the Hills? [Mission Hill, that is] Should we go to our house? Should we not go at all? Should Mary take that guy home? OMG WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO), we settled on bourbon and drugs at Craig's house. I would have been content to go home and sleep knowing all the things I had to do today. So, we head over to Craig's, smoke, listen to music, talk about bikes, look at pictures, watch Mary swing on Craig's swing, I fall asleep and before you know it it's 5:30 in the morning! Before you know it? That's like Nexthingyouknow. Nexthingyouknow??? What?! Anyway, the WFI here is DON'T GO OUT ALL NIGHT WHEN YOU HAVE TO DO LAUNDRY ALL DAY AND FLY TO SEATTLE IN LESS THAN 12 HOURS.

The end.

Please send good I hope Gem lives vibes. I appreciate them.

WFI - sharing a blog with Gem who NEVER CONTRIBUTES

or is it, WFI - sharing a blog with LEWIS who contributes far too much!!!


either way, i have a few things for today.

THING NUMBER ONE

we'll start off with my bike!!

it now looks like this....



and you might say spray painting my "pretty bike" a ghastly florescent orange, and not even limiting the paint to the frame but painting the tires/pedals/gears/spokes was the worst fucking idea. but i think it's a wonderful theft deterrent (and waaaay less geeky than the purple...)!

THING NUMBER TWO

here is a screen shot of our site meter - which monitors who comes here, how long they stay, where they're from, how they got here etc (because we like to pretend we are important enough to know that stuff). most of our hits come from people looking for PEE PORN. because of this!!!



and

THING NUMBER THREE

a wonderful craigslist personal ad. WFI all the way.

wfi BFI - buying a crummy bike off craigslist!

(i apologize for the weird format of this conversation, i was on ADIUM instead of AIM)

whiitethrash: oh man are you ready for a great story

roommatekirsten: YESSS

whiitethrash:

so i get there
his only instructions were
"from warner, make a left, two blocks a right, then a right, then a left, then the blue van is in the driveway"

roommatekirsten: AHAHAHA

did you find it?

whiitethrash:

yes
and its a total creepster van
old conversion van
dirty
cracked windows
and im like
oh god

roommatekirsten:

was he inside the van?
wearing a clown mask

whiitethrash:

and there isnt a door in the front of the house you have to go around the back
so i go around back
and ring the doorbell
and no answer
and the backyard/patio is like, 2 feet from the door
and theres no fence or anything
so i hear him back there
and peek around the corner
and introduce myself
and he is this tall
skinny
old man
with a beard
and missing teeth
and wearing velcro shoes

roommatekirsten:

oh. he must be friendly
!!!
velcro shoes
and a beard!

whiitethrash

and his shorts were pulled really high

roommatekirsten

ahaha
cute

whiitethrash

and he had a NAVY hat on
and he was like
oh sasha! oh no! i tried to call you
and he sounded sad
and he was like
i can't find that bike...
i dont know where i put it..

roommatekirsten

ahahahahahahahahahaha

whiitethrash

meanwhile i saw the bike in the driveway

roommatekirsten

BAHAHAHAHAHA

whiitethrash

and i was like - oh i think i saw it out front
and he was like
no its not there...
but i have all these others bikes!

roommatekirsten

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH

whiitethrash

he had like, ten other bikes around and was all...
so i can give you one of these for 30!
this is the prettiest bike!
and he pulls out some shit junk purple bike
and he was like
i think you should have the prettiest bike!

roommatekirsten

OMG!

whiitethrash

and i checked it out
and he's telling me how he loves bikes cuz he has titanium hips and weak knees.
i'm not sure the connection between all that...

roommatekirsten

i love this man

whiitethrash

so i was like
its good
for 30$ its great
and you are the cutest old smelly toothless man ever
and he's like
do you have a helmet?

hahahaha

roommatekirsten

ahahahahahahahaha

whiitethrash

and i was like
OH FOR SURE
BUT I DIDNT BRING IT!
and he was like, good! everyone should wear a helmet!

roommatekirsten

ahahahaha

whiitethrash

let me show you what i can do!

roommatekirsten

this man is awesome

whiitethrash

and he got on the bike

roommatekirsten

abahahahahaha

whiitethrash

and proceeded to ride it
through the grass
to the driveway
and past my car
which is blatantly in the driveway
he stops and is all, "where did you park?"
uh, right here sir!
hahaha
so we go over to my car
and put it in the trunk
and hes like
BMW - that's a fine machine!
and i was like
if only you knew...
and he didn't want to scratch the paint
so he props the bike up on stuff i had in my trunk
and then he's like
let me get you a bungee cord!
so the trunk will stay closed!
and he gets me one out of the creeper van
and then shakes my hand
and tells me i have the prettiest bike
and then i left!
i actually think it needs new tires, but it's fine for now, and i don't even care cuz the story is just so good.


so yeah. here's the bike i went to get:



here's the bike i got...: