Don't Eat Cookies

I haven't blogged because I've been busy at the day job.

While riding back to LA from AZ, I kept my mind occupied by composing the epic blog I would write upon my return. That didn't quite happen. Suffice to say, it was harrowing. In the hills outside Palm Springs, the wind comes at you from every direction, suddenly shifting without losing strength. A gust would hit me from the left, and I'd lean hard into it to stay upright. Out of nowhere, the wind would hit from the exact opposite direction, slamming into me when I'm already leaned. Doing 75-mph and getting tossed into a 45-degree angle is pure "OhshitohshitohshitOHSHIT!!!"

I spent twenty miles hiding behind an 18-wheeler doing about 45-mph. I can't say for a fact, but at the time I seriously thought that truck saved my life. Thanks, Stevens Transport.

And fuck Palm Springs.

I'm not making that ride again until I have a stronger and heavier bike. The Rebel is awesome for tooling around the city, but... shit, you're asking for it on the open road. No wonder everyone thought I was insane.

I'm back in AZ, getting in a quick visit with the fam for Easter ham. This time, I took the iron bird, leaving the bike in airport parking.

I got in late and didn't have much to eat. I warmed up a couple of tacos but, after waking up, I was a hungry man. I rummaged around in the pantry, looking for something snacklicious.

Now... I've been making an effort to eat better: lots of lean protein, fruit 'n' veggies, dialing back on the booze, etc. I haven't noticed anything different in terms of the way I feel, outside of an incipient loathing for garbage food. The idea of hitting the Jack in the Box down the street from the office makes my guts twist.

But I looked in that pantry and saw some ginger cookies with icing. And I thought: "Man, it's been a while since I've had a cookie." I grabbed a handful and ate them while watching TWO MINUTE WARNING (which I found to be 99% awful and 1% brilliant -- it's like the boring, American version of DAIMAJIN... TARGETS is way better).

Long/short, I ate the cookies, and now I feel like complete ass. I'm simultaneously hyper and dopey, and it seems like I injected Elmer's glue into my brain to achieve the effect. I'm getting messages from my stomach. They're written on soggy bits of paper, and they all read the same thing: "Thanks, asshole. Signed, Mike's Stomach."

Take my advice and don't eat cookies. They're bad for you.

I'm even more of an idiot because there's a laden orange tree in the back yard. Instead of going outside, plucking a fresh orange and eating that fine example of delicious nature's bounty, I shoveled in a handful of sugary crap. Because it had been a while since I'd eaten a cookie. Ugh...

But it's kinda like riding the Rebel across the desert... I have to find out shit's bad for me on my own. Advice? Logic?! Bah humbug. Suffering and fear are far better teachers.