There goes the neighborhood

Blue skies (not) smiling at me.

Blue skies (not) smiling at me.

That’s the last of the blue skies around here for a bit. The temperature just dropped like a poisoned pigeon, Herself reports that she is driving home from Denver in a snowstorm and the forecast calls for rain and perhaps an inch or two of snow. Can’t be 70 and sunny forever, I guess.

After committing a bit of journalism in the morning I broke out a Steelman for a pleasant hour or so of low-impact cycling, then hopped on the Vespa for a quick spin downtown for lunch, just beating a light sprinkle home. Now it appears to be snowing, so I’m fortifying myself against pneumonia with a delicious glass of 2006 Ramón Bilbao Tempranillo Limited Edition.

Hey, it could be worse. I could’ve had to drive to Fruita for the VeloNews gang’s annual clusterfuck, and right now there just ain’t no good way to get there from here.

Happily, I wasn’t invited to attend this year, in part because I insist on being paid for hours logged and travel endured and in part because I refer to annual retreats as clusterfucks.

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8 Responses to “There goes the neighborhood”

  1. Larry T. Says:

    Yours truly enjoyed what’s probably the last nice day for road riding here on the soon-to-be-frozen plains on Monday. It was as nice a day as I can remember, low 70’s, bright sunshine and ZERO wind, which is rare for these parts. Two hours of pure enjoyment- well, as much as can be had outside of Italy anyway! But nobody in a Mercedes even tried to run me over.
    How many VN’rs are left in CO these days? I figured the new owners shipped off most of the jobs to the Competitor HQ in SoCal.

  2. Patrick O'Grady Says:

    Hey, Larry … how many Mercedes tractors could there be in Iowa? 😉

    Today I’ll either be running or riding a little cyclo-cross. I’m not mentally ready for 40-degree road rides yet.

    As regards the VeloNewsers, the outfit is still in Boulder, which surprises me. It can’t be cheap to keep ’em there. But there’s a certain velo-cred attached to the location, being as it’s overrun with pros and their minions.

    Myself, I rarely visit, because Boulder gives me a shooting pain in the ass. All that hipper-than-thou vibe, don’t you know. A place that worships the Third World until it moves in next door.

    I long for the good old days when rival dope dealers would follow you around on The Hill pitching their wares: “Acid? Lids? Speed?” and most of the strange things you saw weren’t really there. Now, of course, they are.

  3. Andy Bohlmann Says:

    Patrick,

    “Bring that bottle over here…” and we’ll “retreat!”

  4. Jeff in PetroMetro Says:

    Man, I wish I could have referred to meetings as “clusterfucks” so I could have gotten out of them. It got so bad, I was in a meeting on Mondays at 7:30am-8:30am, 9am-10:30am, Wednesday evenings from 4pm-5pm, and every first and third Tuesday of the month from 5:30pm-8pm. Then, of course, every face-to-face appointment with a client was technically a meeting, but that was when I was actually working (non-clusterfucks, you could say).

    Now I’m taking care of the homefront, not making a dime, and wishing I could work somewhere that didn’t call three clusterfucks, I mean meetings, a week. (Can I say clusterfuck in an interview?)

  5. Larry T. Says:

    Not so many Merc’s here in Iowa but a few stray over from no-personal-income-tax South Dakota quite often. A lot of folks do most of their biz here in Iowa, where there’s civilization (and income taxes to pay for it) while officially residing over the border to skip out on the taxes. Remember IOWA BEEF PRODUCTS? Ain’t in Iowa anymore.. now it’s called BPI which I think is Beef Products Inc. But of course the bigshot owner and “star” of Food Inc. takes over an abandoned Tony Roma’s building in IOWA to market some sort of chemically treated beef in an eatery named after himself! Most of the actual beef manufacturing goes on in Nebraska for reasons I don’t understand, but guess IBP found it cheaper to move their facility there at some point rather than keep it in Iowa. We don’t eat any of this shit anyway, instead buying our dead critters from a local place that sources from local, organic producers.

  6. chris Says:

    at the word factory, meetings were definitely “clusterfucks,” usually conducted in “glass cages” and attended by senior managers affectionately known as “glassholes.”
    on the weather front, tomorrow is forecast at 70 and sunny here in god’s country. and, being on the government teat these days, i have a holiday. i think i will dedicate my ride to my dear old dad, who flew 54 missions in a b-17 over europe and gave 28 years of his life to the USAF. happy vets day, pops.

  7. Patrick O'Grady Says:

    Jeff, I got out of meetings early on using that term — way back in 1990 or ’91, when I was helping a graphics type redesign The New Mexican in Santa Fe. After I deployed the phrase in a post-meeting chat with the publisher I was excused from all further self-congratulatory, content-free jabberwocky at the expense of daily newspaper production. It was swell.

    Chris, you and have have known our fair share of glassholes, have we not? Also airborne kinfolk. I’d forgotten your old man was in a ’17; mine, of course, drove Gooney Birds out of New Guinea, and Uncle Declan was a tail gunner in a ’29.

    The first time I stepped into a C-47 at some Armed Forces Day celebration, probably at Randolph AFB in San Antone, I thought, “You’ve got to be shitting me.” It felt like clambering into a winged school bus that had lost its entire rear end, wheels, differential, axle and all, in some hideous mishap involving a ditch. Spend four years herding one of these things packed with grunts in the vicinity of disgruntled Shintoists eager to poke holes in it, them and me? No, thank you. I’m an arteest, don’t you know.

    I guess that’s why the old man got a DFC and I got to draw silly-ass cartoons. Happy vets day to Himself indeed.

  8. James Says:

    Snafu to you too! And happy 235th birthday to the USMC! Semper whatever.

    I think “clusterfuck” is probably a perfect description for modern day working conditions no matter what, where, when, how or why one ‘works.’ Another good term may be “circle jerk” only because it conveys the same basic mental image without resorting to ‘offending’ the gerbils, I mean, easily offended.

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