that guy–shorts in winter

I saw him again today...!

And when I say 'him' I of course mean a person that fits this stereotype.

Last night taking the bus home it was FREEZING out, mid 30s at best with a mild wind chill to boot. Half way home this guy gets up and gets off the bus; he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. You hear me? People, I'm talking NOTHING BUT SHORTS AND A T-SHIRT here.

What is it with these people? Are they really that hot-blooded or is their metabolism really so jacked up that they just do not get cold? Or is it that they just can't/won't/couldn't be bothered to put in the effort to switch up their wardrobe even a teeny, tiny bit. You know, roll with the seasons and all that.

This guy fit the bill perfectly. He was young (20 maybe?), slightly overweight, kinda introverted looking and was wearing black Velcro tennis shoes with white, crew-length socks. One had fallen down and the other was pulled up, sorta. As he shouldered his backpack and walked sort of awkwardly down the sidewalk I was left thinking is it that hard to put on even a sweatshirt?

I can just see this guys closet. Five pairs of shorts (just enough to last until the next time he does laundry assuming he wears each pair a few days in a row) and 20 t-shirts. 90 percent of which he got for free. Some of these would have slogans on them like:

• [insert name of high school here]
• [insert name of computer game here]
• Mountain Dew

ASIDE - see, the true nerd doesn't wear shirts with slogans like, "There's no place like 127.0.0.1" or, "There are only two kinds of people, those that understand binary and those that don't". They wear stuff that isn't clever at all. That's why they are nerds. Get it?

So today on the way to work I see this same guy on the bus again. So help me he has on the same shoes, socks, shorts and shirt. [And I thought I was bad...] If anything it was even colder this morning than last night plus it was pretty foggy and his face was flushed and his arms were pink so I'm thinking he has GOT to be cold. Is it that he just doesn't understand that clothes have a purpose or he's just so OCD that putting on anything out of the ordinary would be too upsetting?

And then I'm thinking, if this guy is legitimately warm enough when it's in the 30s, what does he wear in the summer...?! I mean he has got to be hating life when it tops 70 degrees, right? What about when it gets up to 80? Does he hide in his apartment and put bowls of ice in front of fans? Does he just not go outside?

I give up. I choose just to be entertained. The bus excels at that for sure.

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world's most expensive POS

Sweet Jesus... sometimes I have no idea what people are thinking! I'm a regular reader of cyclingnews.com and today they covered the world's most expensive bicycle.

What's so great about this bike? Uh... exactly nothing.

It looks for all the world like some ancient track bike that has been restored, plated in gold and then crusted in diamonds. What's that adage? You can polish a turd but no matter how much you polish it, it's still gonna stink. I mean c'mon, the saddle is made from really hard, uncomfortable leather (and they couldn't even level it out for the photo!), the bar wrap is hand sewn (and why don't we use leather on the bars anymore?) and what's with the pedals?! It looks like they put some regular old, department store platform pedals on a single speed. Nice. What about those super cool new Speedplay nanogram pedals? Or at least a classy, Campagnolo quill pedal with a fancy Binda strap? Heck, plate the strap buckle why not! But no.

This thing doesn't even look good hanging on the wall.

How can you make an expensive bike that is also cool? Sure, there just isn't as much technology involved as say, with a car or a sailboat but you can still do it justice. What about using some kind of unobtanium material for the frame? Or what about sticking some kind of uber-researched disc wheels on the front and rear? Or how about this; we all know you can only make a bike so light and make it affordable, what about if price was not object?

Gluing diamonds on a steel frame just does not get me hot. I can totally see some lower-income kid out there trying to bling out his ride with a can of gold spray paint and some fake stones. Looks the same to me...

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fruit fly trap

Shelley rules.

We have had a fruit fly 'bloom' lately and it got to the point of being pretty gross. They were in your face in the kitchen, in the upstairs bathroom, in the living room, everywhere. Well a few days ago she looked up a recipe for a trap and it's been HUGELY successful. Check out the results:

Apple cider vinegar, sugar and a little bit of liquid dish soap. Who would have thought.

She placed three of these around the house and they all filled up TWICE. The other day I caught Shelley staring at one intently coaxing a fruit fly to jump in... this has become her passion.

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that guy–big stain on crotch

None of us ever want to be that guy, be it this category or any other but this time it was me.

I'm eating my 'lunch' (and when I say lunch I really mean whatever scraps and leftovers I can scrounge up when I happen to get hungry) at my desk and today it consisted of some bread and marinara sauce. In general there is nothing finer and I love dipping bread in just about everything. So I'm ripping off hunks and dipping them in the sauce and greedily chowing down.

Then, as is my nature, I realize that there is some stray sauce around the lip of the Tupperware... Being Martin means I'm compelled to get every last molecule of food in my mouth and so I dutifully take a piece of bread and run it around the lip of the container to mop it all up. First the outside and then the inside.

Seeing as I'm doing this at my desk the doctor is in so to speak and people keep popping by the IT office. Picture me trying to help the Dean's wife with her husband's Blackberry when suddenly I'm startled by this cool sensation down by my crotch. I look down and I'm slowly pouring the marinara sauce into my lap because in my efforts to wipe the last bit of sauce off the inside of the container I had tilted it way over; too far over.

She was like, "Oh, I can see you are in the middle of your lunch, how about I come back later...?"

No...! I said something like, "Just leave the Blackberry here and I'll have it back to you in a jiffy." I reach for the first thing that seems capable of scooping sauce off my jeans and it's a card Shelley sent me long ago. But it's glossy (so hopefully the sauce will not damage it) and it's rigid enough so I grab it. As the Dean's wife is walking out of the office I'm left trying to scrape all this mess off my pants and be super subtle about it. Not.

Then I have to run to the bathroom to grab a bunch of paper towels, wet them down and start the dabbing process in what is always a futile attempt to make it look like this never happened. Of course that is not what happens and instead I emerge from the bathroom with a big, wet stain on my jeans right in the most embarrassing spot possible. Nice. All I can say is thank goodness I didn't have to give a talk or anything.

By now my jeans are mostly dry and it looks like the card survived. Whew...

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