Thursday, June 25, 2009

Wow, I'm employed.

Yes, you read that headline right. As of 15 minutes ago, I now no longer have to say, "Well, actually, I'm UNEMPLOYED, THANKS FOR ASKING," when people ask me what I do for a living. I can now say, "Why yes, I do have a job." Nosy bitches.

I accepted an offer with a Hispanic agency in Orange County, and I'm absolutely thrilled. Marketing jobs are very few and far between right now, so I feel quite grateful. Also, I'm glad I'll be able to put my Spanish to use,* and I positively loved the atmosphere at the agency and the people whom I'll be working under.

*I don't think asking for margaritas these past few years has been "using my Spanish," so this is a legit opportunity to keep it alive.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Le Tour Approacheth

Well, it's getting real close to my favorite time of year. Yes, that hallowed month when I clear my calendar, drink a keg's worth of Hoegaarden, and positively obsess over men with shaved legs and arms as thin as electrical wires. This year's Tour, of course, has the added value of Mr. Armstrong's comeback, which loosely translates to better Versus coverage. Unfortunately, Mr. Livestrong Armstrong also attracts media coverage from respected news outlets such as NPR, which means, if NPR gives away stage results before I've seen the recap, my day is POSITIVELY RUINED. Typically, when such events occur, my anger is such that I'll swerve at squirrels and laugh at old ladies who slip and fall. BECAUSE I'M THAT ANGRY THEY GAVE IT AWAY.

Wow, I'm digressing already. Here's the deal: Contador is quite splendid, and I truly hope he doesn't get caught is not doping, because he's such a dashing young climber with enormous potential to elevate the sport back to respectability. Also, there's clearly tension within the Astana team, and infighting always makes for a fantastic soap opera, adding to the brilliant drama that makes the tour The Tour. Contador is already reportedly trying to switch teams, and almost succeeded, but the Kazakh government came through with the team funding. Meaning, it's Contador vs. Armstrong and Armstrong's bitches. It's promising to be reminiscent of the mid-1980s when Hinault and LeMond decided it was mano-a-mano, forgetting, apparently, they were teammates. They clearly passed this lesson on to Jan Ullrich and Bjarne Riis, who in 1996, engaged in a similar battle royal. Personally, I hope Contador kicks Armstrong's ass.

Honestly, I don't hate Armstrong. Though it probably seems like I do. I think what he's done for cycling has been fantastic, and I commend him for raising money and bringing attention to the fight against cancer. I do, however, disagree with his taste in women--and--here's what truly irks me: his insistence on referring to himself as "we." Um? Is your ego so large, Lancie, that you believe there are multiple Armstrongs inhabiting the same body? Here's a recent quote from the men man himself(s):

"Ninety minutes of the kind of watts we were putting out were what we needed to remind the body of what we need to do.”

I wonder if I would have more success, in, say, my dating life, if I started to refer to myself in the plural:

"Wow, we really enjoyed ourselves this evening. Would you mind not slobbering so much next time you kiss us?"

Or, I could try it at my next job interview:

"We have a lot of experience dealing with shitty clients. You should definitely hire us."

Despite Lance's ego problems, here's one thing I will say: The dude's got some serious sperm-regeneration capabilities. Have you not heard about this? His girlfriend just gave birth to another Armstrong child. What's puzzling is that Armstrong was deemed sterile after chemo, and his dear first wife resorted to having hormone shots in her ass and in vitro in order to bear him three children. I'm assuming Mr. Armstrong and New Girlfriend weren't using protection. Probable conversation:

Her: Wow. I guess I can get off the Pill, since, you're, um, sterile?
Him: Yeah, baby, it's awesome. I won't have to worry about your pill-induced mood swings.
A few months later...
Her: Um ... Lance, I'm pregnant.

Ten more days, Internet. The Tour starts in ten days.

Monday, June 15, 2009

California Driving

Well, I've been back in California for a few weeks, and like a proper Californian, I've been DRIVING. Which, after my four-day jaunt across the country, is not my favorite activity at the moment. BUT, I've been seeing some cool places and visiting a lot of friends, so I guess all of that car-time is worth it. Here's a short album of my adventures these past few weeks: It includes Yosemite, wine tasting in San Luis Obispo, and the Newport coast. Enjoy. And hire me. I need a job.

Friday, June 05, 2009

Re-living it.

Well, now that I'm back in California, with my car, and bikes, and dog, where do you suppose I've decided to couch surf? If you know anything about me, at all, you will right now immediately be saying "SLO?!" and you are absolutely correct if that is your reply, but unfortunately, I won't be able to offer you a prize of any sort because I'm unemployed. But if you happen to live in the radius of anywhere on the Central Coast, I will happily crash on your couch, too. And if that's not a prize, I don't know what is.

One of my friends is out of town, so I offered to "housesit" even though I don't think his place needed any sitting. BUT INTERNET, IT'S AWESOME. I'm pretty much in heaven. My bike(s) and I have been attacking every road, singletrack trail, and section of dirt with the same ferocity that a starving person would apply to a dripping slab of prime rib. There is nowhere better in the world to ride a bike. And that's a fact. I have such an affinity for the riding here because it's where I fell in love with cycling, and because the mountains and hills are perfect and beautiful and they hold so many dear memories to me. I'm re-living my favorite years every ride I take right now, and even though I happen to be out of work, just ended a relationship, and am facing the possibility of starting over completely, I'm absolutely ecstatic and thrilled with life right now.

I'm gushing. I know.

When I'm not on my bike, I've been catching up with friends here. Our Sunday morning agenda? The Walk of Shame. We'll set up shop on the busiest party street in town. We won't be doing any walks of shame, but rather, heckling those bleary eyed, hungover college students who are stumbling back to their cars wearing what they could find of last night's clothes. It's wildly entertaining. After that, we're going to do a "death march," a euphemistic name for a four-hour mt. ride that involves climbing some large peaks and descending off of small cliffs.

So, anyhow, as you can tell, I have a full agenda.