Get it - its a bike blog...
anyway. I have heard the requests and the complaints and have resolved the issue regarding posting comments on the blog. I had it set up all wrong but its fixed.
So....post away.....just remember that both the young and the elderly read this blog, and if I have to refrain from saying things like shit, damn, ass, hell, fuck, bitch, dickweed, shithead, fuckface, assbag, cockburger, choad, taintface, cootch, jerk off, nutsack, poonmonkey, renob, tard, vajayjay, whorebag, or felch then so do you. Try to keep it as clean as possible.
thanks
BlogManager
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Photographic Evidence of the previous post...
These are the Rice Kids, Carson throwing an impressive devil horns through the glow stick rings complete with extended tongue, Aubrey representing the West Side, or Left Coast as I like to call it, behind him. With a ridiculously gleeful me, and a sneaky Romel "Smoke" Montellano lurking about in the back.
This is Cousin and her new dude Jacobo (pronounced Ha-ko-bo, Spanish for Jake) I like them alot. They like plants alot. Cousin admits to "booty-dancing" on certain Fridays while in college, something she physically reminisces when drinking plum wine. Note the evidence of the Sake Bomb under her right elbow - oh its on!
As if this pic was not enough for you sailors out there, Tammy also comes from a long line of people who, like Gene Simmons of KISS fame, do not have the little thing under their tongues to keep it from extending like a cow at the salt-lick.
I often wonder what life would have been like if my first experience with beer had not been in an overheated garage in the deserts outside Los Angeles but in a classy well lit sushi restaurant, or instead of Miller Light it had been delicious Sapporo or perhaps Kirin, and instead of a measly 12 ounces it had been a then colossal to my little hands 22oz bottle, barely able to grip the thing in anticipation of the delicious nectar filling my gullet. Thank god the rice kids will not have to relive this mistake.
These are the Rice Kids, Carson throwing an impressive devil horns through the glow stick rings complete with extended tongue, Aubrey representing the West Side, or Left Coast as I like to call it, behind him. With a ridiculously gleeful me, and a sneaky Romel "Smoke" Montellano lurking about in the back.
This is Cousin and her new dude Jacobo (pronounced Ha-ko-bo, Spanish for Jake) I like them alot. They like plants alot. Cousin admits to "booty-dancing" on certain Fridays while in college, something she physically reminisces when drinking plum wine. Note the evidence of the Sake Bomb under her right elbow - oh its on!Romel.... kinda like a Puerto Rican Chuck Norris meets a Philipino Liberace in a very "hey-lets-make-people-feel-uncomfortable-and-watch-them-squirm-a-little kinda way. I love this guy.
As if this pic was not enough for you sailors out there, Tammy also comes from a long line of people who, like Gene Simmons of KISS fame, do not have the little thing under their tongues to keep it from extending like a cow at the salt-lick.In the words of Lennon - "I am the Walrus."
koo koo ka choooo.
koo koo ka choooo.
I often wonder what life would have been like if my first experience with beer had not been in an overheated garage in the deserts outside Los Angeles but in a classy well lit sushi restaurant, or instead of Miller Light it had been delicious Sapporo or perhaps Kirin, and instead of a measly 12 ounces it had been a then colossal to my little hands 22oz bottle, barely able to grip the thing in anticipation of the delicious nectar filling my gullet. Thank god the rice kids will not have to relive this mistake.Of course I'm kidding. This picture was staged and I in no way consider teen (or pre-teen in Philip's case) drinking to be anything less than a terrible step in the wrong direction. It surely will lead to a downward spiral of illicit behaviours followed by a lifetime of addiction to chemicals and worst of all......."cigaretting" a national travesty affecting so many of America's youth today.
Thanks again for an awesome night you guys,
S.
Say NO to cigaretting!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
san diego - fort collins by way of sushi and ween
Or should I say sea to sky? No that's kinda cheesy. How 'bout sun to snow? That would certainly give a better picture of the temperature change. Its COLD here! Been snowing since I landed yesterday at noon. And its clean and beautiful and quiet and cold and the tap water taste like pure mountain snow-melt gold!
Lets catch up...
Last day in San Diego spent wrapping things up, found a home for the Moto thanks to the amazing generosity of one Carrie M who had a little extra garage space (and a hankerin for Italian wines I suspect) and parked the beast, luggage and all, even a clean set of clothes in there, close enough to the airport I can walk there when I get back. Found myself the biggest dirt-bag duffel (under $30) known to mankind and managed to plop everything that has kept me warm and dry for the past 6 months into it with room to spare! I even stashed my sleeping bag in there its that big! Rounded up some good friends and headed over to San Diego's LOUDEST sushi restaurant Tokyo Sushi.
SUSHI
For the sushi fans out there, especially ones who have spent a lifetime being influenced by pop music, there is no better place for the raw and the cooked as Tokyo Sushi. I was introduced to this phenomena on a date in early November and have made sure everyone I know in SD knows about this joint, and I have been there no less than 4 times in 3 months. And for a broke homeless wanderer like myself that's ALOT of sushi - but the place is not only fun and LOUD, its cheap! Mylar sympathy balloons float around the ceiling, most look like valentines day over-stock, glow-sticks and these little finger lights are handed out to complement the raver-esque club feel, dance versions of your favorite pop songs blare down from the floating mass of balloons as the excited greetings yelled at you from behind the bar and from the quickly roaming wait staff make you feel more a part of Japanese street culture than a guest in a shshi bar. The place is amazing! Did I mention LOUD? With Tammy and the Rice Kids (Aubrey and Carson, but you can call him Philip) in tow, along with Cousin and Jacobo, her friend Rebecca and her dude Ken and Romel "Smoke" Montellano the handsome Peurto Rican China-man showing up just after we sat down the executive decision was made to play a little game of "Penis".
Don't get weird yet, let me explain: the game involves a group of friends simply saying the word "penis" in a public space, starting off in regular conversational tone and volume, and gradually working your way to the loudest yell of the word your lungs can bellow. (The writers of the movie 500 Days of Summer did NOT invent this game!) I figured between Bri, Philip, Myself and Romel we had a median humor level of a 10 year old, crammed into a makeshift table for 9 in a crowded restaurant that plays dirty versions of Eminem songs turned up to 11, so we might as well have a go. Needless to say for those who know the man, the myth, the Animal - Romel came out victorious with an impressive 258 decibel, prolonged, almost chant like scream of the word that won him the gold for volume. With the judges taking into consideration his smaller lungs and vocal chords, and the fact that he yelled "penis" right when the music cut off between songs, Philip/Carson took the gold for sportsmanship playing the game as the founding fathers had imagined perfectly, and BriBroBra bringing home the gold for the most number of times yelled. Go America! Food was amazing as always, and we even talked Tammy into eating a whole piece of the Heart Attack Roll - essentially a jalapeno popper with tuna and krab (yes, with a K) meat inside - her very first sushi experience at the tender old age of 28 (your welcome Dear).
With another round of the big beers, a Sake Bomb with The Boss joining in from behind the bar, enough Plum Wine that Cousin started Booty-Dancing in her seat, some mochi for the Brats, and a faked birthday celebration that awarded both Carson and Aubrey with flying plush toys chucked over the heads of other patrons from the Boss to our table, it was time to bid farewell to lovely SD. I stayed with the Rice Clan (what self-respecting Manny wouldn't want one last ride in the minivan?) who presented me with some amazingly thoughtful going away gifts (to be modeled in pictures to come) and drove me teary-eyed to the airport after a good healthy dog-pile at 6am.
Despite the waterworks, the flight was good, sat next to a couple of tattooed kids with a veritable pharmacy in their backpack, and the gift of music in my ears (thanks again Bri!) bringing me all the excitement, laughter, joyful tears, and the warmth of knowing that I have a place to return to.
HOME
The concept of home is one that has been weighing heavy on my mind as I wander around the western US. Leaving Fort Collins in late August after the death of my Mom and getting fired from a big corporate brewery to set out to explore on my Moto and Mountain Bike (which has been named "Becky" for future references) the idea of home started to become this transient idea of place. Technically I was homeless. Technically, still am. When the motorcycle insurance folks asked where I lived, or where the bike was parked all I could reply was "in a tent, and under my ass." Sure all my crap was piled into a storage unit in FoCo, but Idaho felt like home, and Oregon felt like home, and SF was home for a long time but did not feel familiar, and SD certainly is the place where I grew up so it feels like home too, but after a 15+ year absence it felt so different. Coming back to FoCo I have used the word "home" to describe my itinerary flying in and out of Colorado, but it didn't really feel like home as I wandered around last nite in the snow alone. Home is starting to feel for me like a place where I am loved, and where there are people who truly know the very root of who I am. In this sense "Home" becomes a feeling, and a feeling is easy to wrap up, stash in the pocket of your ROOS and take with you. You can revisit a feeling through a song (LA LA OH LA LA!!), or through the smells of someplace familiar, through food and drink, and through stories of the people that travel through our lives, sometimes only for a moment, but who leave us with lasting impressions and form the way we see the world. I guess that's what this blog is for, so I can take you all with me in some way. To feel less like I am away from home, and more like I am adding to my definition of the word. Through long-winded flowery descriptions (just kidding - I'm getting a camera) and humorous tales, hopefully you will all get to share in this trip with me, stay connected, help me feel less alone when I need company, and to widen the lens through which we all see the world, our own lives, and the lives and realities of those we love. To redefine what home means to all of us.
Lets catch up...
Last day in San Diego spent wrapping things up, found a home for the Moto thanks to the amazing generosity of one Carrie M who had a little extra garage space (and a hankerin for Italian wines I suspect) and parked the beast, luggage and all, even a clean set of clothes in there, close enough to the airport I can walk there when I get back. Found myself the biggest dirt-bag duffel (under $30) known to mankind and managed to plop everything that has kept me warm and dry for the past 6 months into it with room to spare! I even stashed my sleeping bag in there its that big! Rounded up some good friends and headed over to San Diego's LOUDEST sushi restaurant Tokyo Sushi.
SUSHI
For the sushi fans out there, especially ones who have spent a lifetime being influenced by pop music, there is no better place for the raw and the cooked as Tokyo Sushi. I was introduced to this phenomena on a date in early November and have made sure everyone I know in SD knows about this joint, and I have been there no less than 4 times in 3 months. And for a broke homeless wanderer like myself that's ALOT of sushi - but the place is not only fun and LOUD, its cheap! Mylar sympathy balloons float around the ceiling, most look like valentines day over-stock, glow-sticks and these little finger lights are handed out to complement the raver-esque club feel, dance versions of your favorite pop songs blare down from the floating mass of balloons as the excited greetings yelled at you from behind the bar and from the quickly roaming wait staff make you feel more a part of Japanese street culture than a guest in a shshi bar. The place is amazing! Did I mention LOUD? With Tammy and the Rice Kids (Aubrey and Carson, but you can call him Philip) in tow, along with Cousin and Jacobo, her friend Rebecca and her dude Ken and Romel "Smoke" Montellano the handsome Peurto Rican China-man showing up just after we sat down the executive decision was made to play a little game of "Penis".
Don't get weird yet, let me explain: the game involves a group of friends simply saying the word "penis" in a public space, starting off in regular conversational tone and volume, and gradually working your way to the loudest yell of the word your lungs can bellow. (The writers of the movie 500 Days of Summer did NOT invent this game!) I figured between Bri, Philip, Myself and Romel we had a median humor level of a 10 year old, crammed into a makeshift table for 9 in a crowded restaurant that plays dirty versions of Eminem songs turned up to 11, so we might as well have a go. Needless to say for those who know the man, the myth, the Animal - Romel came out victorious with an impressive 258 decibel, prolonged, almost chant like scream of the word that won him the gold for volume. With the judges taking into consideration his smaller lungs and vocal chords, and the fact that he yelled "penis" right when the music cut off between songs, Philip/Carson took the gold for sportsmanship playing the game as the founding fathers had imagined perfectly, and BriBroBra bringing home the gold for the most number of times yelled. Go America! Food was amazing as always, and we even talked Tammy into eating a whole piece of the Heart Attack Roll - essentially a jalapeno popper with tuna and krab (yes, with a K) meat inside - her very first sushi experience at the tender old age of 28 (your welcome Dear).
With another round of the big beers, a Sake Bomb with The Boss joining in from behind the bar, enough Plum Wine that Cousin started Booty-Dancing in her seat, some mochi for the Brats, and a faked birthday celebration that awarded both Carson and Aubrey with flying plush toys chucked over the heads of other patrons from the Boss to our table, it was time to bid farewell to lovely SD. I stayed with the Rice Clan (what self-respecting Manny wouldn't want one last ride in the minivan?) who presented me with some amazingly thoughtful going away gifts (to be modeled in pictures to come) and drove me teary-eyed to the airport after a good healthy dog-pile at 6am.
Despite the waterworks, the flight was good, sat next to a couple of tattooed kids with a veritable pharmacy in their backpack, and the gift of music in my ears (thanks again Bri!) bringing me all the excitement, laughter, joyful tears, and the warmth of knowing that I have a place to return to.
HOME
The concept of home is one that has been weighing heavy on my mind as I wander around the western US. Leaving Fort Collins in late August after the death of my Mom and getting fired from a big corporate brewery to set out to explore on my Moto and Mountain Bike (which has been named "Becky" for future references) the idea of home started to become this transient idea of place. Technically I was homeless. Technically, still am. When the motorcycle insurance folks asked where I lived, or where the bike was parked all I could reply was "in a tent, and under my ass." Sure all my crap was piled into a storage unit in FoCo, but Idaho felt like home, and Oregon felt like home, and SF was home for a long time but did not feel familiar, and SD certainly is the place where I grew up so it feels like home too, but after a 15+ year absence it felt so different. Coming back to FoCo I have used the word "home" to describe my itinerary flying in and out of Colorado, but it didn't really feel like home as I wandered around last nite in the snow alone. Home is starting to feel for me like a place where I am loved, and where there are people who truly know the very root of who I am. In this sense "Home" becomes a feeling, and a feeling is easy to wrap up, stash in the pocket of your ROOS and take with you. You can revisit a feeling through a song (LA LA OH LA LA!!), or through the smells of someplace familiar, through food and drink, and through stories of the people that travel through our lives, sometimes only for a moment, but who leave us with lasting impressions and form the way we see the world. I guess that's what this blog is for, so I can take you all with me in some way. To feel less like I am away from home, and more like I am adding to my definition of the word. Through long-winded flowery descriptions (just kidding - I'm getting a camera) and humorous tales, hopefully you will all get to share in this trip with me, stay connected, help me feel less alone when I need company, and to widen the lens through which we all see the world, our own lives, and the lives and realities of those we love. To redefine what home means to all of us.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
waiting at the library on a nice day
too bad I spent most of today A) waiting for the library to open, B) waiting for a computer only to experience a system-wide shut down when I finally got on, and C) riding across town to another library to wait again and finally get an hour on the computers.
And I completely lost all the gems I had for you today. Oh well! I'm trying to get some pictures of the Farm and the area of Italy I will be calling home for the next 8 months. Ill keep you posted. Till then, I offer you this gem of advice...
If you find yourself without Internet and needing to get online, do yourself a favor, go find a young student at a cafe somewhere, reading a book with laptop open and sweet talk your way to 15 minutes of their computer. Offer them another coffee or chai or what have you, and check email real quick like. Avoid waiting in line at 3 different libraries, in early spring with all the other homeless job-seekers hacking their allergy induced tuberculin cough all through the stagnant unfiltered air, and all over the greazy computer terminals.
Three cheers for disinfecting wipes and H1N1 hand sanitizing stations.
Ciao
And I completely lost all the gems I had for you today. Oh well! I'm trying to get some pictures of the Farm and the area of Italy I will be calling home for the next 8 months. Ill keep you posted. Till then, I offer you this gem of advice...
If you find yourself without Internet and needing to get online, do yourself a favor, go find a young student at a cafe somewhere, reading a book with laptop open and sweet talk your way to 15 minutes of their computer. Offer them another coffee or chai or what have you, and check email real quick like. Avoid waiting in line at 3 different libraries, in early spring with all the other homeless job-seekers hacking their allergy induced tuberculin cough all through the stagnant unfiltered air, and all over the greazy computer terminals.
Three cheers for disinfecting wipes and H1N1 hand sanitizing stations.
Ciao
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Day 3 or whatever
Yeah, enough freaking out about packing up, making lists of people to see (or NOT to see), and thinking about where the hell I'm putting that motorcycle I love so much, today's Mission: a big long bike ride in the sun.
Finally got over to Point Loma, all the way to the lighthouse. Killer views, maybe a little desert dirt in the air with the westbound winds blowing this weekend, but gorgeous. Rode back through the tiny hamlet to a coffee spot me and my scooter hommies used to post up at and smoke cloves and drink espressos all night - what dorks we were back then. What did we even talk about? I think I was only 19. Funny memories to have before leaving again. the only thing that actually FELT familiar (it all looked familiar) was the view out the open back window while standing at the urinal (Sorry Phillip, no footballs). I must have drank a shit-load of coffee at that place if all I remember is the view from the can. Rode along the water and back up to the mesa. Absolutely hog-beasted some Vietnamese salad rolls, and back out to try to find, sort and wrap everything up for this most amazing opportunity.
So much on my mind as I say bye to friends and family I have been able to reconnect with, and of course all the friends who have been with me when I needed them the last 6 months.
Maybe this is a good opp to throw a huge thanks to those people. These are the folks who have been there for me thick and thin, who have opened their homes and floors to me in times of need, and who have listened, been sad and happy with me, and who have stepped up to call me an asshole when I needed it most, or to scoop my drunk ass up from out under my motorcycle as I try to ride away drunk. To the people who have listened and told me I was doing OK when I wasn't sure, and who fed me when I was hungry, gave me a cold beer when I needed it, and who offered me their sisters when I was lonely, I mean, who would of, if they had sisters...I think the only friend who even has a sister has a gay one at that...which is fine... Thanks you guys and gals! Could not have made it with out you all!!
I'm off to sort it out...
...anyone got 3X8X5 feet of garage space they want to fill with a gorgeous heap of dual sport touring motorcycle - you just let old Scotty-Poo know will ya?!
Finally got over to Point Loma, all the way to the lighthouse. Killer views, maybe a little desert dirt in the air with the westbound winds blowing this weekend, but gorgeous. Rode back through the tiny hamlet to a coffee spot me and my scooter hommies used to post up at and smoke cloves and drink espressos all night - what dorks we were back then. What did we even talk about? I think I was only 19. Funny memories to have before leaving again. the only thing that actually FELT familiar (it all looked familiar) was the view out the open back window while standing at the urinal (Sorry Phillip, no footballs). I must have drank a shit-load of coffee at that place if all I remember is the view from the can. Rode along the water and back up to the mesa. Absolutely hog-beasted some Vietnamese salad rolls, and back out to try to find, sort and wrap everything up for this most amazing opportunity.
So much on my mind as I say bye to friends and family I have been able to reconnect with, and of course all the friends who have been with me when I needed them the last 6 months.
Maybe this is a good opp to throw a huge thanks to those people. These are the folks who have been there for me thick and thin, who have opened their homes and floors to me in times of need, and who have listened, been sad and happy with me, and who have stepped up to call me an asshole when I needed it most, or to scoop my drunk ass up from out under my motorcycle as I try to ride away drunk. To the people who have listened and told me I was doing OK when I wasn't sure, and who fed me when I was hungry, gave me a cold beer when I needed it, and who offered me their sisters when I was lonely, I mean, who would of, if they had sisters...I think the only friend who even has a sister has a gay one at that...which is fine... Thanks you guys and gals! Could not have made it with out you all!!
I'm off to sort it out...
...anyone got 3X8X5 feet of garage space they want to fill with a gorgeous heap of dual sport touring motorcycle - you just let old Scotty-Poo know will ya?!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
day one - still roaming
So here we are again, 1138 miles (although I guess I should start thinking in kilometers) from Fort Collins, in beautiful sunny Southern California, a lifetime away from that old beer job that had me running around like crazy all summer, and smack in the middle of a journey that has had a profound impact on the way I see my world. Yes I said "My World"...but that's OK, you can visit anytime! That's what this is for. So here we go...
Ill break this down so its easy for the kids...
Who - Scott, aka Hank, aka Phylis, aka The Dork (Thanks Tammy), aka Beer Dude, aka Bike Douche, aka ShitHead, Dumb Ass, LeDouche, and Scotty to Cousin and her new boy Jacobo.
What - a blog to keep track of my adventures in .....
Where - ITALY! That's right bitches! I got me a little work as a bike wrench in Italy for the summer. These nice old bike loving geezers hired me (and my buddy James) to keep a fleet of rental comfort hybrid cruisers running smooth all summer for American tourists in the town of Europe. Expect Hijinks.
Why - cause I'm not gonna have a cell when I'm there, and I'm addicted to the damn thing. This might be the cruz of the trip but I want to share it with you all.
Stay posted for more as I get things in order to bounce...
Anyone know where I can store a motorcycle with big ass luggage hanging off the sides?
S
Ill break this down so its easy for the kids...
Who - Scott, aka Hank, aka Phylis, aka The Dork (Thanks Tammy), aka Beer Dude, aka Bike Douche, aka ShitHead, Dumb Ass, LeDouche, and Scotty to Cousin and her new boy Jacobo.
What - a blog to keep track of my adventures in .....
Where - ITALY! That's right bitches! I got me a little work as a bike wrench in Italy for the summer. These nice old bike loving geezers hired me (and my buddy James) to keep a fleet of rental comfort hybrid cruisers running smooth all summer for American tourists in the town of Europe. Expect Hijinks.
Why - cause I'm not gonna have a cell when I'm there, and I'm addicted to the damn thing. This might be the cruz of the trip but I want to share it with you all.
Stay posted for more as I get things in order to bounce...
Anyone know where I can store a motorcycle with big ass luggage hanging off the sides?
S