Riding the Horse on the Goose.

My latest carrot acquisition:

Chode.

Its girthiness is typical of that carrot variety (Kuroda, maybe?), but I’m easily impressed these days. With the latest travel restrictions, my world is limited to eating, sleeping, and playing on the island. But my interest in oversized vegetables started when Zoée shared with me a video featuring her friend’s butternut squash. Zoée did an artful slow pan of the seemingly never-ending squash, which was at least five feet long…. maybe ten? I was already shocked by its length when I realized that I was only halfway through the video. I was inspired to look up vegetable world records.

There, I found my new dad:

Continue reading “Riding the Horse on the Goose.”

Festering childhood memories.

Okay. I’m in love.

I’m in love with Ponyboy, which means Rocky got sold. I’d posted Rocky on Craigslist and UsedVic over a month ago, and go no bites. Was it that the bike was too expensive, or people have terrible taste? Then Rocky ended up on Facebook Marketplace via someone else’s account. First week: nothing. Then, last week, the sun was shining and all of a sudden people were interested.

Before I knew it, Rocky was gone. I wasn’t even around for the transaction. It was awesome of my co-workers to help sell the bike so that I didn’t have to organize a meet-up only to get ghosted. I genuinely had so little hope that the guy would show up on Friday and actually buy the bike. So, I’m showing my gratitude by flooding the shop with baked goods.

Yann asked me if I missed Rocky yet. I don’t, but it is weird knowing that the bike isn’t mine anymore. I’ll probably still see it around the city, possibly being mistreated by the new owner. It’ll be easy for me to spot as I haven’t ever seen another bike like it in Victoria. Or France:

Rocky before Rocky before an armless lady with meaty thighs. (Banyuls-sur-Mer, France.)
Continue reading “Festering childhood memories.”

I have a fake smile now. Sort of.

This is the latest with my bike frame:

Yup.

Severe weather conditions where? Balmy Illinois–where it was last scanned–or here? I rode to work in -3º C weather yesterday morning. This was not a new experience for me as it was colder than that on average for at least three months straight in Montréal. Somehow, in just a year and a half, I’d forgotten how cold -3º C felt. I guess I’ll always be a Fraser Valley Girl.

My commuter outfit yesterday was more or less this:

Jan 17, 2020

Under all these layers, specifically the face layers, I look like a million bucks!

Holding up a gypsum cast of my former mouth. (The cast is about 30% smaller.)
Continue reading “I have a fake smile now. Sort of.”

Climbing buddies of my Vancouver past.

We are the Champions has taught me that if you’re a yoyo legend, you could monetize your face by printing it on t-shirts to sell online, and your merch shop would be so popular that things sell out!

I would not want to see my face on someone’s shirt; thus, I won’t be picking up this under-appreciated hobby. For royalties, though, I could accept my face being printed on underwear, assuming I won’t ever have to see it. Do whatever you want with my face as long as it’s out of my face.

Continue reading “Climbing buddies of my Vancouver past.”

Competitive showboating.

Years ago, when I first lived in Victoria, an acquaintance updated his Facebook status to something like, “Come and see me wear a beard of bees in front of the Legislative this Saturday at noon!”

Obviously a joke, except a few days later, he updated his Facebook profile photo. The new picture was of him in front of the Legislative with the promised bee beard. This is probably why our friendship never took off: I had missed out on a life-altering event of his. He could never forgive me.

Of course, there hasn’t been that kind of stuff happening this year. Instead, we have to stay home and watch whatever our streaming services provide us. Netflix just released a docuseries, “We are the Champions” to remind us of when people used to have fun.

Cheese rolling.

Yann accused this of being something I would be into. He is devastatingly wrong. I hate getting injured, and I can’t think of a more promising opportunity for injury than cheese rolling. The last time I fucked myself up, I couldn’t work or ride a bike for two weeks or climb for a month. I can deal with the pain, but the boredom is intolerable.

On the note of Yann being wrong about me, he apologized for buying a full-sized hairdryer to replace the travel-sized one of mine that he broke.

“I don’t care,” I told him.

The new one is hot pink and has a retractable cord that’s already whipped me in the arm. It’s punk.

“Yea, but what if you want to travel with it?”

“Do you think… I am a person who goes travelling with a hairdryer?”

Anyway, it was a gift. I usually let my hair air-dry for three hours instead of blow drying it. I call it paleo hair styling.

The second episode of the docuseries featured a chili pepper eating contest. I could probably chomp down a jalapeño, but I wouldn’t go any further for a cash prize of $1,000. I’m not enough of a masochist.

So, I googled for more unique competitions to determine which ones I’d have a shot at winning.

Continue reading “Competitive showboating.”