Seacoast Coffee Shop Tour - Take 3

Yesterday, Brent, Andrew and I did the Seacoast Coffee Shop Tour. Ryan Kelly did part of it with us, but apparently he has a job... This is news to me.

It was a beautiful day. I made sure - after the second running with Bob and Scotty - to check on wind directions so that we would not get murdered by the wind all day. The wind was out the south-southwest and a sea breeze kicked up during the day. The run up the coast wasn't super fast but wasn't as punishing as the Bob/Scott iteration. 

At one point on 1A in New Hampshire, Andrew was really gassing it. I rolled next to him and cautioned him to save some gas for later. We eased off the pace because there was still 50-ish miles to ride. And, the climbing starts at about mile 85, so if you are fried leaving Portsmouth, which is usually the case, you are in for a miserable 50 miles finish.

We cruised up Maine Route 103. It was still a cross wind but wasn't a hinderance or a help.

We didn't stop at the Daily Grind in York, instead we stopped at the food market in Ogunquit. 

Brent and Andrew split a roast beef sub. It looked really tasty but I know I can't eat heavy things like that mid-ride, so I stuck to my bag of Oreos.

As we rolled out, the boys were talking about how they had never thrown up because of exercising. I said, "There's always a first time."

For the people that know the ride route or this neck of the woods from other rides, you all know that as you come out of Shore Road, you are on Route 1 for about 100 meters before you turn up left and ascend Berwick Road.

Since they had just eaten and were talking about not vomiting, I decided that it was my personal charge to make them regret eating roast beef subs.

I didn't even give my self time to get settled in and re-warmed up after our stop. 

I just went to the front and started hammering. I tried to recover on the down-hill sections of the rollers of this section of the ride.

At every rise I punched it, surging up the hills as hard as I could.

I was descending deeper into the Pain Cave but I was determined to hear partially-digest roast beef sub hit the pavement.

Brent was riding really strongly and I couldn't crack him.

Andrew was a hurting puppy though.

He did maintain his honor and didn't blow chunks. 

At one point, Brent pulled around me and I looked back and Andrew was dropping pretty far back. When I saw him I decided that I couldn't continue with my plan.

He was hurting, and at that point, with my effort up those rollers, I was hurting too. 

Right about then, Andrew fully channeled the pain and misery of the ride. 

It was at the same point, during the first ride with Carney and R.Kelly, that I told them, "If I fall into a snow bank, just leave me for dead."

Andrew got to that same point. As we crested a small rise, we saw a dump truck coming toward us in the other direction.

"AAHH!!! I want to steer into it," he yelled.

The only way I can summarize the ride is to adapt an Ice Cube song title, "[Yesterday] was a good day".

Inciting panic at every sneeze, cough or sniffle

With the outbreak and feared pandemic of Swine Flu sweeping over North America, I urge you to do our part in greasing the gears of panic and fear.

The media have been reporting on new cases that are infecting youth, healthy people and not old, sickly people. 

The media has also reported that the best way not to spread the virus is to practice basic hygiene by washing hands frequently, covering your mouth when you cough or sneeze, and if you are sick stay home.

This poses a particular difficulty for college students such as myself and the thousands of students living on campus.

Therefore, like I previously stated, I urge you to do you part to raise awareness about this potentially deadly outbreak.

Every time you see someone sneeze or hear someone cough, I want you to shout "SWINE FLU!" and point at the person like you were a Puritan accusing someone of witchcraft.

Then continue to shriek as you smear Purell all over every surface in the room.

With your help, I know we can fight this thing.

Thank you for your time. 

If you can't stand the heat, stay out the tranny bathroom

Sitting down to pee promotes nudist sensibilities.

This is what I thought while I was sitting in the "tranny bathroom" - or 'gender neutral bathroom' -  in the bowels of the MUB.

Take a moment to think about this.

On second thought, please don't; that would mean that you are just as dumb and bored as I am.

So, let me break it down for you.

The tranny bathroom is an anomaly because regardless of the sex or gender with which you identify, you are able to use either one of these bathrooms. There is clearly a men's and women's bathroom. The men's room is set up like any other men's room with two urinals and one stall. The women's is what I would think is standard for female bathrooms with two stalls.

To accurately describe the typical experience of the tranny bathroom, I must describe a sticker that is pasted to the wall next to the door lock. It reads, "For your privacy, please feel free to lock this door", or something like that (i'll fact check this for you). 

  Therefore, you will have to use the can on any occasion, only to find that the door is locked. You push and you hear the hollow and solid, "THUNK" of a deadbolt lock.  That means someone is in there taking care of business. 

 This leads me to draw two conclusions; One, they are interested in hiding their gender neutrality or ambiguity - that's cool with me, as a male that identifies as a male, I have never had to question this and therefore have no idea what the state of gender ambiguity is on this homogenous campus; Or, conclusion number two, the person in there can't handle the heat of someone of the opposite sex urinating or defecating next to them - this one roils me. 

If you can't stand the heat, stay out the tranny bathroom.

I'll now set forth some qualifiers in order to clarify the situation. I was comfortably sitting on the can, reading The New Hampshire (my university's fine newspaper) one evening, only to hear three people open the door, walk in, and then exit. 

 

To clarify, I sat down to urinate. THERE, I SAID IT!

 I was using this time to relax, to read and to close out all the freneticism of college life, which felt particularly crushing during that week.

As I heard the second person leave, I thought, "Man, what's the big deal? I'm just sitting here." 

I was just a guy sitting, on the pot. What's so weird about that? We all sit down with our trousers at our ankles, multiple times day. 

So, why automatically leave a gender neutral zone when someone is taking care of gender neutral business?

I do concede that maybe they needed to poop. I was using a stall for something other than its specific, solid-waste-disposal purpose.

Progressing to my thesis, so that I don't bog this post down with tangential rants, if I was sitting down, peeing, reading my paper, in the traditionally women's bathroom - as evident by its configuration stated above - and a woman - undeterred by the presence of someone else in the bathroom - came in to use the adjoining stall, this would be the closest I would ever come to a member of the opposite sex in a non-sexual context.

 

This would classify as a basic and preliminary step toward Nudism, because the sexual context was removed, while incorporating some skin bearing during a day-to-day activity. (I admit now that this is the extent of my knowledge of the philosophy of Nudism.) 

 

 The next step, I feel, in the incorporation of nudist ideals and gender neutral zones would be to remove stall walls. This would remove the social anxiety associated with urination and, primarily, defecation.

In the end, had I not taken my little break, dropped my trousers, sat down to pee and read my paper, I would not have had this epiphany. 

Likewise, I would not have had this alienating experience. I am ready to incorporate new values such as gender neutral zones for gender neutral acts and nudist ideals in hopes of breaking down social anxiety. 

But most of all, I would embrace freaking out some squares and read my paper where no one can bug me. 

I want to write some stuff.

But don't really have the time.

I will give you the headlines, or heds - in downstyle.

I will not be racing as much as I originally planned this collegiate season; school is busy and I have a woodworking studio class that is fulfilling as it is time-consuming.

I am disappointed to hear the Cannondale is moving production to Taiwan. My CAAD9 will be the last Cannondale I ever buy.

The Boston Globe might be shuttered within a month or so as a result of its owner's, Times Co., gigantic debt.

I am going to try to do Exeter's Wednesday Night Rides as a part of my desire to hang with them by the end of the summer. All aboard the Pain Train!

I need a haircut.

I will be helping to make Chicken Marsala and Mac&Cheese at Holloway Commons - UNH's stat dining hall that serves roughly 6000 people per day, Monday through Friday - in order to write a feature and create an audio slideshow for my Feature Writing class.

   That's about all that is going on in my neck of the woods.

Thanks for tuning in. 

March riding and sunscreen

I am in Florida right now.

Ryan Carney is sitting next to me in his underpants and I love it.

Yesterday we rode 112 miles at about 20mph average.

I was the General all day; while everybody was clowning around after stop-sign roll-outs, I would go to the front and turn it on.

I was not interested in screwing off for 7 hours and having anything left at the end.

My plan worked.

When we hit SugarLoaf, I tried to stay with the 6 man lead group, but that was not possible.

I got up over the top and Ass.Coach Pat, Ryan and 2 D-riders dropped me and got a serious gap. Then for the next 2 mile I tried to bridge back up to them. I got within 50 meters of them, but that was all I could manage.

Later on, as Ryan Carney handed me an ice cream bar at a gas station up the street from the where we park, he said that he and Ass.Coach Pat saw me trying to catch them. Ryan turned to Pat and said, "Hey, let's make it harder for Phil."

They did.

And it was great.

The Power of a Rat-Hair Pillow

I just finished my Editing midterm.

And my teacher, Sandy Marsters, is a genius of imagery.

The test was an editing exercise that we have to copy-edit, which means we have to look for errors and mistakes. These mistakes can range from spelling mistakes, incorrect verb usage, to proper usage of suspensive hyphenation (which is my new favorite grammatical thing).

As you are trying to find all the errors in an absolute abomination of a hard news story, Sandy throws in a fictitious direct quote such as the following, about a woman that ate at a restaurant where rat hair has been found in the salad bar;

     "I've eaten from that salad bar many times," said (whoever). "I've probably eaten enough to make a whole pillow."

Yes. You read it correctly; RAT-HAIR PILLOW!!!!

I could barely contain my laughter throughout the rest of the test period.

Think about it for just 30 seconds; think about lying your head down on a pillow made of rat hair.

 Better yet, picture yourself eating a pillow made of rat hair.

Now, try to concentrate. On ANYTHING!

Shit! Now that I think about it, I should have noted, on the test, to check if rats have hair or fur.

See? That is copy-editing and how distracting rat-hair pillows can be. 

Early starts and useless nights.

It is 9:12 a.m. on Wednesday morning and I have been in the MUB Computer Cluster for nearly two hours, already.

This day is going to be a long, hard slog of border-line acceptable paper writing.

I performed some introspection last night - and no, that does not involve a mirror and a speculum sort of thing. (That's right, I just made a speculum joke. I went there.)

No. Instead, I examined my study habits.

I am useless after 6 p.m. Period, that's all. After I eat dinner and power down for a little while, I am all done. There is no kick-starting me after that. No amount of Hot Start can get me going again.

I always talk about writing papers early but never do it. Then, when it comes time to write these papers, I over-think things and the whole process takes forever.

So, last night I just read and decided to try to get an early start this morning. Hence, being the first person in the computer cluster, and getting a big "Good Morning!" from Big Gene, the room monitor fellow. It was kind of funny because as he greeted me, I noticed that he cast a quick glance around the room. (Yes, Gene, it is 7:37 a.m. and there is a college student about to start working on school work. Believe it.)

So, in order to try to loosen up my writing muscles, I am getting some thoughts out here on the blog. I hope that this little but of writing allows me to find the motivation and inspiration to write a paper about Puritan Gender Roles as portrayed through Captivity and War Narratives as well as Secondary Sources.

Wish me luck.

[This is when you say to your monitor, "Ooh. That poor bastard. Good luck, buddy."]

Thanks.

I'll need all the luck that I can get.