My Bike and Asshole SF Bartender
So for the last three weeks I have been building and fucking with my bike. I built a fixed gear bike at first but after my knee starting killing me I changed it to a single-speed. That was working great until today when my back and only brake busted and forced me to stop by skidding my foot on the ground. I hate having brakes I am changing it back to a fixed gear once my knee is working. Summer school was hell but I am glad I got it over with. Now it is getting colder and all the spandex queens ( wannabe racers and real bike racers head to toe in spandex going about 30mph double abreast) are coming out on the bike path and trying to run everybody over. This weekend was the Great American Beer Festival. I was going go but it was 50 bucks. Jen and I ( the wife) had are own private tasting session of PBR at sputnik instead. Good choice. The urban suburban is alive and well. I missed Dolly Parton at the convention center but did catch the pixies at Red Rocks with my friends Jill and Henry. I did catch some outbreak like monkey virus in San Francisco while visiting my brother. That was awesome. I spent the next two days staring out at a fire escape and watching TV. To back up with that story.. So I was a little late to a dinner my bothers girlfriend cooked, my brother tried to disown me, I forget my friend Sarah was sick and we start sharing a bottle of beer as we stumble down the Castro from my brothers house, end up with asshole bartender in the mission who is so fucking " alternative" and cool that it makes realize every click is the same and being a skater or a punk is just another fucking extension of wanting to fit in with some group. I should know as an old skater, its all relative If you want to be so cool and different start wearing a fucking wet suit if you really need to satisfy your need to be so different and unique . I feel comfortable saying this because the bartender probably collects troll dolls and should have slit her wrists and called in sick so my friend and I didn’t have to go through teenage angst from a 30 year old woman. . Anyway that was SF in one night and I don’t remember flexing in the kitchen and thats how I caught my monkey virus. Had the food the next day in stage one of outbreak, it was really good. I think they still hate me a little for missing dinner.
