Friday Miscellany

Reunited and it Feels So Good

I took part in a blogcast (meant to drum up support and dollars for their upcoming cross-country bike trip) last night for friends Mike and Jim of Mike and Jim at Stan's Bar in Spring Lake. We chose this venue because according to Jim it's halfway between Grand Rapids where I am, and Grand Haven where they are. With that kind of grasp on geography, their bike tour of the country can't possibly go wrong. (For those of you who don't know, Spring Lake is minutes from Grand Haven and almost an hour from Grand Rapids.) They are trying to make it all the way to Oregon. I wonder if they think Grand Haven is half way. I would send them a map, but I am sure it will have little to no effect. They don't seem to know how to read one.

All told, the trip is so far in pretty rough shape, just like Mike and Jim themselves. They only have one bike for starters. Jim's was stolen. I asked if they believed in signs from God. They are undeterred. They have no sponsors, (not even their parents) and are soliciting donations, $12.00 at a time. At this rate, all the donations they have taken so far will go toward buying a replacement bike. I asked about spares and they looked at me dumbly. Spare what, their glances seemed to ask? And given the amount of beer and pizza that was consumed last night, I am guessing their training regimen is on hold for the moment. Or maybe they were focusing on carbo loading.

They asked me if I actually thought the trip was going to happen. I told them I think they will get started and maybe make it as far as Holland, which has to be at least half way to Portland by their understanding of cartography and for a fat guy like me, that would be quite a feat.

They generously invited me along, since as of now I am unattached (see below), but I demured. I also don't have a bike and even more importantly, I look really, really bad in spandex! I also have asthma and an incurable dose of lazy. These things always conspire to put the brakes on my adventures before they even begin. Also, I don't have $12.00, having spent my last $20 on gas to get to Stan's Bar.

To show my support, I am going to mention Mike and Jim's plight to my friend who works for a locally based sporting goods company. Maybe there is a discount to be had on a replacement bike for Jim, or maybe his medicare will pay for a new power chair.

I would love to see them do this thing. You are only young once though neither of them are particularly young anymore, being 93 years old between the two of them, they are in a particularly good place in their lives to be able to do this. This is the kind of crazy I wish I could be, but just can't be. I am too prudent and boring to do something like this myself. At least I can live vicariously through them.

It had been a long time since we all hung out (over 3 years) and it was good to be back in the presence of greatness, or so they told me. We had a great time just laughing, which is something we did often- often for no discernible reason. We have always just found each other funny even when (especially when) we don't mean to be. I watched Jim (whose real name is Clayton but was changed legally from Jim just to ensure confusion) seriously lose his religion one day at work and all I could do was laugh. I can't remember why he could have been so mad, but he was truly, seriously pissed. It must not have helped that his audience was doubled over and in pain from laughing. He is just funny.

As for Mike, we have the same odd and sense of humor. We aren't actually funny in that we tell jokes, we just go off on tangents bringing in references from days gone by that create long non sequiturs we find hilarious, but most people just don't get. On top of which, we have an absolute inability to complete one thought without jumping to something else and then something else and something else. Therefore, even with 2 hours of recorded material, I believe there are all of 8 seconds of actually funny captured.

At one point last night, we started talking about Regis Philbin's impending retirement and ended up with a volley of faux Robert Evans stories culminating with Mr. Evans, Larry King and Leslie Ann Warren in a hot tub filled with apple juice. It is a wonder we even know who any of these people are at all, since they are all "before our time."

I was out of breath, my face was red, my neck burned. I had 7 out of the 10 signs of a stroke. But it was all from laughter and none of it was likely very funny to anyone else who may listen. Including the patrons of the bar who just looked at us as though we bellied up to the bar after nonchalantly parking our flying saucer and manifesting right through the wall. It didn't help we were wearing headphones and had enough wires on the table to make it look like we were jacked in to the Borg Collective (there's a joke only 3 people will get).

Driving back home the "937" miles (according to Mike, who was showing his navigational prowess one more time) I was very happy to have taken part. I don't know how the final product will turn out, but I hope they invite me again.

Stick a Fork in Me

I am done. My phone and e-mail are shuttered and I am having a very quiet day. I am still working on securing other employment with one hot prospect, one somewhat more cool and still a third that would be my last resort. I appreciate good thoughts and moral support in my search for gainful employment.

Confessional

I don't want to, but I find myself singing the J.G. Wentworth operetta sometimes. If you are unfamiliar with this I linked it here. This is in no way a plug for this terrible company who preys on the margins of society by essentially stealing from them, I just love the music, which I find embarrassing, but I can't help it.

Officially Ready for Spring

Ok, uncle. I am done. It is cold, snowing (again), and cold. Did I mention it is cold? I am ready for the temperate seasons to hasten. Old Man Winter, I have been a good sport, now I am inviting you to leave. Thanks for dropping by.