Ass + Fatigue = Assateague
I guess that now that we have rider numbers, we really do have to ride this century. When I told a coworker where the ride is, he pointed out that Assateague could be a portmanteau for ass + fatigue. Thanks. That’ll help me keep my mind off how much my assateague aches after 100 miles.
And if you’re crazy enough to be out there this weekend, look for my number to catch a glimpse of me as I zip by. Not on the road, though. I’ll be doing my zipping at the final pit stop, running to the table that has the pie and ice cream.
(And for all of you innernet stalkers, who drive around the innernet tubes in your trucks, clogging up the pipes, waiting for someone to be gone so you can go in and rearrange their living room, I have two pieces of information for you: our house won’t be empty or unwatched, and our address is 1060 West Addison–Google it yourselves, you lazy stalker slobs.)
I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more.
OK, so I’ve never worked an honest day in my life. My hands are softer than a baby’s bottom, but without all the diaper rash. So, I’m not quitting the farm life that I never led, but I am leaving my current place of employ as of October 19 and starting at a brand new shiny place on October 22. (New to me–they’ve been around more than 50 years.)
I think that the shock of the transition is finally wearing off a little, and that I’m starting to enjoy that relaxing end of a job where the need to work is overshadowed by the need to get out in the beautiful fall weather, walk across the street, and buy a Heath Bar Blizzard at DQ. Or a three-olive martini at Clyde’s. Yeah, after nine olives, I’m full and feeling ready to work again.
Part of the shock comes from this change being so easy. I wasn’t actively looking for something new, although I was obviously receptive to it, when a fellow member of the Pajama Mafia–hey, I don’t have ready access to the Velvet Mafia, so I make do with what I’ve got, which is friends who blog, aka, the Pajama Mafia . . . Pajamafia?–contacted me with an opportunity that I was really excited about. That I am still really excited about.
No, you don’t get details right now, because I don’t want all six of you loyal readers, like, stalking me on my first day of work and getting all pajamarazzi on my ass with flashbulbs and all that. Don’t worry. You know I’ll get all loaded later and tell you aaaaaalllllll about it. More than you ever wanted to know. Olives do that to me.
Besides, I know that this one is totally legit because I read about it on the innernets. On a blog, even, so you know that it’s true. Besides, who wouldn’t love a widget named after Neil Peart’s band?
But seriously, it’s like Amway without the soap, like Tupperware without the plastic, Mormons without the missionaries, Sarah without the Goon Squad . . . no wait, that last one isn’t right. It’s totally Sarah and the Goon Squad.
In fact, Sarah made me do it, she got me hooked, she gave me the first freebie, she started it, she jumped off a bridge and made me jump too . . . it’s not my fault! So, if you don’t make, like, millions of friends and have your blog so overrun with readers that your server melts into a silicon puddle, don’t blame me.