Name help

I have to come up with a name for my fantasy football team at work, and I am feeling pressure to have something clever. My boss' team is the Kickass Ass Kickers, so there is at least some room for rudeness. Any suggestions?

If you are good with naming stuff, I could also use help with a bike gang name for me, Mike and Leslie - and you, if you like the name you create so much that you want to take up cycling. Velo- cycle- and bike- stuff preferred, but Bikes & Brews is the best we've come up with so far, and it's pretty weak. This is priority #2, though, if you are adding things to your to-do list.

Ok, side note: do you call things on your to-do list "action items"? Because I do, now. I feel like my vocabulary is getting taken over by MBA-speak. Last week, in an Important Meeting, I introduced a project proposal and said that I had built in room for flexibility, so that we could expand and adapt the project on the next go-round. At least three people nodded (That Girl behavior!) and involuntarily muttered, "iterate". It was positively Pavlovian - at Google we say iterate, iterate, iterate! I'll iterate on your ass, man.

Woah, should my team name be "Iterate Your Ass"?

It is time

I need a haircut, bad; I haven't had one since January, and my hair is getting cat-lady-long and dry. If you go to a place or a person in the Bay Area that you really like, for the love of leave-in conditioner, please let me know. I'm thinking about going really short again...

Century #2 down!

I have now ridden over 120 miles on the windy/winding roads of Marin and Sonoma in the last two weeks. The Holstein 100 was on Saturday, and, while not as hard as the Marin Century, it was still a booty-kicker. Mike, Leslie and I were joined by Mike's coworker Daniel, who told us after the ride that he was wearing a spandex onesie. This pretty much made everything worth it. A key point: all three of my co-cyclists are way faster than me, which made me alternately motivated and full of rage.
Please note the unintentional perfection of the bookended Brecki hairdos.

The course was 67 miles of gorgeous rolling hills - until the last 20 miles, when there were two major climbs. Numero uno was the backside of the first big climb of the Marin Century; going down it then, I had ridden the brakes so hard my hands had cramped, so you can imagine how much fun it was to ride up this time. The last hill was supposed to be the worst, but I was so freaked out by then that anything short of an Alp was a piece o pie. Not to say my thighs weren't screaming the whole time, but I managed to not pass out, which is my main objective on most climbs.This is me at the top. I was Very Happy. I realize is doesn't look like that major of a hill, but perspective can be a dirty liar. From here the road went down down down, then hit the 1 along the coast for a few miles. This would have been a pleasant cap to the ride, except that my bike had started to fall apart by then. My bar tape came off (yay numb right hand), my gears were clicking, my derailer was whining, and with only a few miles left I got stuck in a high gear. Conveniently, I also had the Pixies stuck in my head, which really helped me power through.

After the ride, we went to Scrambly's for some beers (and oysters, in my case). Hartz and Claire came and met us after doing the full 100 miles! Cheers to them, crazy bastardesses that they are.Unsurprisingly, Mike and I passed the F out Saturday night, and took it easy on Sunday. We had brunch with Yuri (!!!) who is home from France for a bit, then had a Critically-Acclaimed-athon, in which we watched episodes of Mad Men, Friday Night Lights, The Wire, and 30 Rock. We have the frenzied activity/gluttonous sloth thing down, man.

Outside Lands

Who is going to the Outside Lands festival in Golden Gate Park? Radiohead, Beck, M. Ward, Devendra Banhart, Wilco, Broken Social Scene...Mike and I will be there all weekend. Let me know if you want to meet up!

Nostalgia is not a dirty word

So the other day Mike asked me if I am going to relive college for the rest of my life. And despite the fact that I was elbows deep in the alumnae magazine and making weird reaction noises under my breath as I read the notes for the Class of 1953, I looked at him like, Me? What?

That is because Wellesley was just so weird. Reliving college is for sorority girls and date rapists, and those who otherwise peaked while doing a keg stand. But because we totally had to make our own fun and thereby got to be the Coolest Kids Ever, I feel like it isn't so much reliving as reminding myself that the uber-coolness of my current life was hard-won. Or something.

In any case, I love Wellesley in a way I definitely did not think possible first year. Or sophomore year. Or any time I was infuriated by the myopic administration and fascist regulations. But seriously, it is very hard to look at this slideshow of Marathon Monday 2008 and not reminisce about 2005.

Whether you feel like saying it in the short bus way or not, what we had at Wellesley was pretty special.

I freaking love my neighborhood.

An email newsletter from Mojo, the coffeeshop/bike shop/bar/performance space on Divis. Ignore the !!! and spelling mistakes and focus on civic fabulousness.

The Jashua Smith Trio is going to play tomorrow, Friday, August 15th from 8:30 PM to 11 PM. Joshua will be on the saxophone, Michael Coleman on organ, and Tim Bulkley on drums. This should be another great show, and I hope that you'll come by and check it out. If nothing else, come have a cheap beer after work! Happy hour is from 4 to 9 with $2 pints of Big Daddy IPA and Lunatic Lager on tap!

And don't forget the farmer's market on Sundays, 'cause it's been getting better with every week of the summer! Also, check out Plant-It-Earth's new space right on the corner of Grove and Divis, the have great indoor plants and all sorts of gear to make it happen!!!

Cheers, and have a sweet, sunny weekend!

When a fun thing becomes a Hobby

Last night I bought clipless pedals and cycling shoes - what oh what am I coming to? The shoes look kind of like light blue soccer cleats, and I got mountain biking ones so that I don't have to do that stupid cyclist duck waddle. Still, I feel both excited and confused.

I'm doing another century on Saturday woohooooooooooooooo!

Beedogs

Beedogs.com: dogs dressed as bees. My oh my.

See? Improv was totally practical.

This article talks about improv principles that make you better at life. Yessss. I told you, Mike - negation isn't good for anyone!

I'm in it for the cows

I have agreed to ride the Holstein 100 this Saturday, another long bike ride that will kick my butt. Aside from the fact that it's 5 miles longer than the Marin Century (67 vs 62) and that seems like a nice incremental increase, I am mostly doing it because they put party hats on cows along the route.

I plan on taking photos and starting my own LOLcow empire.

I don't get it.

I would like the world to know that I got a manicure, and that crap is whack. When I got to my terminal at Dulles last Friday, it turned out that it was Virgin America's 1st birthday, so there was cake, music, and about 18 children with noisemakers. Hellacious. I struck off to find a quieter place and a wifi signal, but good old Dulles didn't have any wireless fi-- (what does "fi" stand for?) going on anywhere in the terminal. Rad.

Instead, I decided to get a manicure, my first one in 13 years (8th grade graduation, baby!). The stuff was "eco-friendly" so it smelled less noxious than most nail polish, but it was still odorful, and I had a really hard time not knocking against things while it dried. I was pleased at how it turned out, though - I got a dark brown/purple color that was appropriate neither to the season nor my skin tone, but I thought it looked sophisticated in an old lady kind of way.

The problem with liking it is that I got all stressed as it started to chip. That is my point: nail polish chips pretty much immediately, and then it just looks crackwhorish. It made it through most of Saturday ok, but the thumbs were losing it by Sunday, and after swimming laps last night, all I have intact is one pinky. I'm all uneven and upset, and might just peel it off. I feel like this might be a metaphor for my life. Or someone's life, anyway.

Like the SATs, but more annoying

I just took a Meyers-Briggs assessment for work. Maybe the Meyers-Briggses are super clever and truly know what they're doing, but it seemed like a lot of crap to me. I get that they ask the same questions in a lot of different ways for a particular reason, but it's impossible not to want to game the test a bit. If I have to choose whether I like "feeling" or "thinking" better, maybe there's no clear winner - but between "sentiment" and "reason"? I'm not unaware my boss is going to get my assessment, dude.

My favorite was the what-are-you-like-at-a-party series: do you talk to one person or a group, do you introduce yourself or let others introduce you, do you feel energized or drained, etc. Do I not get to mix it up here? Can I not be perky sometimes and get drunk in the corner with Mike at others? Same with impulse vs planning - can't I be both organized and spontaneous? I guess my inconsistency means that I'll be somewhere in the middle - or it'll turn out I'm a sociopath.

There's really no winning here. I associate emotions with weenie hippies and hard logic with assholes, and I had to align myself with one or the other. We'll see which team I'm playing for in a few weeks.

champ.

I have no idea if anyone reads this anymore, but I will keep on keeping on, since I need a break from work right now and breaking out my Backpacker magazine might be a bit obvious. Here were some highlights of my weekend:

• Hartz dropping a well-spiced shrimp into her fresh IPA at Toronado; unwilling to give up on the beer, she chugged it as shrimp legs detached from the body and floated around in her glass. CHAMP.
• Going to Specs' in North Beach as a part of my coworker's pub crawl. It was a great discovery, and it didn't hurt that Sarah wore a disco ball dress and that there was a piano player who sang Happy Birthday to her. CHAMP.
• Having breakfast at Mojo's and then wandering the Divis farmer's market. Fresh flowers in the house!
• Getting the stool below at the Design Within Reach warehouse sale in Fort Mason.No, it is not the greatest thing to sit down on since your ass, but it is cute, and its list price is $358 and I got it for $10! CHAMP.
• We spent most of beautiful beautiful Sunday at Dolores Park for our friend Olivia's birthday. There were dogs and balloons and cheese and wine drunk straight out o' the bottle. CHAMPS.

Tell me it gets better

Season 2 of Friday Night Lights pretty much sucks. Last night we watched episode 5 (I think), and it was positively campy. Saaaaaaaad.

Who wears bike shorts? I wear bike shorts!

Ok so I am crazy out of my mind with work, but I want to write this down before I forget about the glory and the pain. The Marin Century was AWESOME. It was also HARD.

My dad got in last Thursday, and we ate our way through San Francisco, despite the fact that he is a little ani. We went to Magnolia on Thursday and Tsunami and Fly Bar on Friday, where he reluctantly did a sake bomb.

Saturday we woke up early early early and headed up to San Rafael for the start of the ride. I was anxious as hell (seriously, why didn't I train?), but felt ok once I shoved my body into spandex and got on the bike. We started the ride at 8:30, and it got difficult pretty much right away. The first climb was long and steep. My "strategy" was to go hard for as long as I could, then rest for a sec, drink some Gatorade, and enjoy the buildup of lactic acid in my muscles. My dad and Leslie were the Little Engines That Could, chug a lugging up the hill (Leslie in a more speedy way than Pa Brennan). Mike just plowed up the mofo like his massive muscles were born to do.

The first 18 miles went up and over a big hill, down the other side through a fantastic redwood grove, and then through rolling hills full of cows who looked godammed lazy. At the first rest stop we scarfed PB&Js and brie, and geared up for leg 2. Leg 2 was a bitch at first - it started out with a huge hill that had me riding my brakes all the way down the other side - but settled into small up and downs that plopped us into a lovely shady park in Petaluma. There we were fed peaches and figs and more brie by a flaming man in a grass skirt who could not say enough about the complementary flavors of the cheese and the fruit and the lovely lovely day - it was Queer Eye for the cycling crowd.

Leg 3 sucked in every way possible, and if I had had any energy I would have wanted it to die so that I might stomp on its body. It was mostly out in the open, the sun made my head pound in a pre-explosive manner, my dad got a flat, I got stung by a bee, there was a headwind, and Red Hill was looooooooooong. This made the stop at mile 49 feel ohsosweet (see photo), and someone told my dad that watching him pedal away had gotten them through the leg.Then the last 11 miles turned out to be much better than I had expected, and (if you don't count Mike hitting the pavement with his head at 30 miles an hour) everything went swimmingly.

Aside from some gross sunburn on my legs (why oh why didn't I apply spf?) and Mike's cracked helmet and black eye, we all felt much better than expected on Sunday. Leslie marked the ride as one of the top 5 events in her life, and I feel like it was a pretty rad thing to do.