nice guy syndrome

rather like the cabbage soup diet, the "nice guy" sounds like a "good" idea, however both can be a burden on any specific long term, procreative goals. and let's face it, most guy's goals are to find a reasonably proportioned love object in order to liquor her up, and talk her into a lifetime soundtrack of "oh, for god's sake woman, would you please not leave THOSE underwear lying around for me to see."

the second cousin twice removed of "nice guy" is "just like my brother guy". again, these gentlemen will have a host of attractive females within arm's reach, but said females will also be trying to see if they can belch their lunchtime burrito far enough for "jlmb guy" to smell.

through the passage of time "nice guy" will typically move beyond the "maybe he's just gay" stage, and evolve into ken doll status; asexual. oddly enough "nice girl" is never left on the shelf, because honestly...there is no such thing. girls left on the shelf are collecting dust for a reason; their farts smell like boiled cabbage and they demand you accept them for all that they are.

riding across the gender divide

guys can pee sitting down; we are on equal turf. however, all those who wear spandex are not created equal- and spandex can be pretty unforgiving. i do not ride too often with the "stronger sex", primarily because i do not want; "that much of a workout". however, every now and again, its good to see how far i can push before CPR and/or a defibrillator is necessary.

riding faster than my brain's ability to think and process "oh fart, there is a steep, negative gradient peppered with sharp, pointy obstacles that could probably really hurt my face/skull/anywhere with a long bone not surrounded by excess feminine body fat" are irrelevant, if speed has already committed me to it. for miles, my entreaties to encourage the lead rider of any 'co-ed peloton a deux' to shoo off and focus on elevating their own pace/heart rate to more than a corpse, falls on deaf ears. apparently concern over my lack of mechanical savvy or inability to remain vertical and not sustain a traumatic head injury are somewhat prophetic. slowing down and thinking (the feminine), tends to result in more crashing (me). of course "trail testosterone" can then make himself useful by picking up the pieces.

i wish i could pee standing up. i have scratched the shit out of my shins trying to find a secluded 'spot to squat' in the woods.

teenage boys are not from mars...

they were an anathema to me then, and they have not demystified their ways of all things testosterone now that i am old enough to be their mother (if i had been a precocious teenager myself). young men of 2007 are definitley not made from puppy dog's tails, unless they are the spawn of cerberus guarding the gates of hades. this past week i filled in for the therapist of the teen boys' house while she was away in the virgin islands. granted, these are some very angry boys, however, i was in need of anger management by the end of 60 minutes (60 minutes in dog year terms).

socialization at an early age is obviously key to understanding "other", however, a brother who stuffed crisp packets behind the bunk bed and locked me in the sideboard cabinet, or a father who walked (still walks) around the house in a t-shirt and underwear perseverating on standards of oral hygiene, left me with a "swiss cheese" knowledge of the not so fair sex, in addition to questioning the sanity of my mother.

my final assessment can be conceptualized as this: boys (they are all little boys) really dont care about clothes or underwear (unless it's their significant others'), they develop strange obsessions for random, and quite often useless, objects (the trophy tart girlfriend), and for some strange reason they continue to refer to adult, female mammaries as "boobies" long into their 30's.

oddly enough these are also my criteria.

hell's angels

i never understood the attraction of motorbikes, the old school ones are cool in a 50's diner looking way. however, the immediate association is an excess of mid life and menopausal flesh squeezed into leather (fringing is obligatory), tattoos of writhing mermaids, knock off oakleys and hulk hogan facial hair. i remember several vomit inducing drives up the 'tail of the dragon' in north carolina, watching aghast (with my head out the window sucking in fresh air) at the packs of harley boys vroom-vrooming their way up the seemingly neverending hairpin curves. death by 'motorcycle over cliff' holds no appeal to me whatsoever.

in the spirit of trying something new, i found myself bandana-ing up and donning a helmet so i could become the "bitch who fell off" or whatever the t-shirts in gatlinburg's finest biker stores have printed on them. natural consequences lesson #1: do not wear capris while attempting to mount a motorcycle as this exposes tender calf flesh to the hot metal exhaust pipe that apparently everyone else seems to know about.

while i am not ready to purchase boots, perm my hair into a frizz or wear studded leather accessories, it was an experience that can now be crossed off my list. good thing too as my mountain bike bruises were fading and now i have a nice, bubbly first degree burn the size of kansas that i can impress my friends with.

abstinence

addictions are a new and exciting way to add a little drama to both your, and your loved one's lives. irrespective of the form, booze, relationships, star wars action figure collectibles, they are as difficult to eradicate as a fresh outbreak of gonnorhea (so i've heard). there is a multi pronged approach for treating addictions, one of which is abstinence; the first darth vadar leads to a moving parts jabba on the toilet.

i am mildly uncomfortable with the concept of abstinence (isn't that just "avoiding", and shouldn't i be working on my avoiding issues?!). abstinence means not re-exposing yourself to the source or the triggers- where do i sign up for my lobotomy? abstaining feels like giving up a big chunk of the time you spent being a certain entity and identity, which is fine for the not so healthy stuff, but it feels a waste to throw the baby out too. it is easy to perseverate on the negative to self, doing so to your addiction feels like a betrayal of loyalty, its not the whole truth, not all was bad, i wouldnt have been as addicted for as long if there wasn't some positive re-enforcement, right?

peeing in the shower

the world can be divided into two camps; those that do and those that don't, and i know there are other girls out there that do, they just aren't telling me the truth. my poll of 4 dudes has yielded 3 "yesses" and 1 "no! that's disgusting...do you?" It was this response that had me thinking perhaps i was lacking in good manners and breeding after all, but it's not like i do it when someone else is in there with me.

i have found validation, granted my poll was not taken from a random sample, i had a pretty good suspicion of what their answers would be. and now to the rationalization (although they didn't offer any). this is the height of good multi-tasking; there is no need to waste loo roll wiping yourself, there is a constant stream of hot, running water, and the shampoo and soap rivulets will give your plug hole a clean, fresh finish after you are finished.

what's funny is that the people who deny shower peeing are the ones who will admit to it in the sea, i just got there first. i bet these are the closet swimming pool pee-ers who stopped when they heard the story about the chemical that turned your pee a bright colour.