Stolen Bikes Ride Faster

(subtitled: But You Get No Where with Your Bike Locked to Your Porch, True Story)

Bike Incident '09 is OVER!

I am not really good with bikes. I mean, I can usually navigate them from point A to point B and I generally get on with them well enough as long as I don't have to do anything mechanical. Maybe it's that I'm not really a mechanical person. But I think the bigger issue is bikes.

Case Study A: It took me forever to learn how to ride. Or at least, that's the way I remember it. Like any young tot, I excelled when there were three or four wheels in contact with the ground (tricycles and training wheels respectively). However, when it was time for the superfluous wheels to come off, I found them rather...necessary. I fell a LOT. And I was learning how to ride on a gravel driveway. So...OUCH.

Case Study B: For my...11th, I think...birthday I specifically stated that I wanted anything EXCEPT for a bike. So of course my gift was going to the store and picking out a bicycle and a helmet. It turned out well enough, I had that fancy mountain bike for years even after downgrading to a used street bike. On the other hand, while living in Madison, bike number two was stolen piece by piece. C'est la guerre (the bike guerre anyway).

Case Study C: In lieu of replacing a broken pedal on bike three (aforementioned used street bike, belonged to my mom when she was young so it was "vintage" - read OLD) I opted to get around town hoping my foot wouldn't slip off the pedal post. And later, when taken to a bike shop to repair the broken brakes yet again, I was summarily informed the mechanic could spend a whole day working on the bike and still have plenty of repairs left. Whatever, just because a bike HAS gears doesn't mean you have to USE them.

Also, a confession, I've only once taken a bike to a shop for a tune up, and that was in Middle School. If it isn't broken... And by broken I mean completely impedes the bicycle's intended purpose (locomotion)....

So, the spring after moving to Chicago I finally bought a new used bike. And I love that bike. We've been through some tough times, like when I had to pay $100 to replace a stolen wheel, but we've forged on. Until I locked it to the porch this winter.

Not really a smart idea, actually. Given that it's the Midwest and therefore snowy and given that the porch is outside I didn't really put any forethought into "what if the lock rusts shut?" Which it did.

I tried everything to remedy the situation (after discovering it two months later). It's been an epic battle. I called several bike shops for suggestions and got nowhere so I started improvising. Over the course of several weeks I tried bike chain lube then some charcoal stuff and finally I soaked everything with repeated dousings from a bottle of WD-40. All for naught. I was getting desperate. The sun was beautiful and I no longer wanted to walk everywhere.

Yesterday I gave up on the thought of salvaging the locks (I was using a combination of U-lock and steel cable to secure the bike) and went to buy a hacksaw. After explaining the situation to the clerk, I was informed that a hacksaw would snap under the pressure (kind of like what I was about to do). Alack. Also, as I explained the situation the clerk treated me more and more like an incompetent, would-be bike thief. Which I resent, given that only the first half of that is true.

So anyway, with no further options, I turned to Google.

Why was that not my first thought?

Google taught me the wonder that is PB Penetrating Catalyst.



This stuff is AMAZING. I went to the nearby auto-shop this morning and bought a can. Within half an hour I had the bike unlocked, easy-peasy.

Then I used the rest to clean the rusty chain, spokes and assorted parts. And now I have my bike back! Thanks, PB Penetrating Catalyst!*



*Seriously though, this is the best rust remover ever. EVER.

Life Is Hard. Hooray Life.

One of the cool things about my old apartment was that it allegedly abutted the residence of the Lawrence Arms. I never actually saw anyone from the band in the neighborhood but I figure we ran in different social circles so the internet probably wasn't lying to me. However, not even that bit of celebrity could convince me to stay in that place for another year. Anyway.

On Sunday night/Monday morning as I was leaving the radio station I happened across a field of tiny American flags. The sort we used to tack to our bikes for the Fourth of July parade as children. I thought this odd so I doubled back to check out the sign which explained that each flag represented an aborted fetus. I could not roll my eyes hard enough at the ridiculousness. And I probably wouldn't waste the time drawing attention to this supposed social commentary were it not for the conversation Sarah-Sarah and I had the following afternoon wherein we have decided to re-frame the pro-choice/anti-choice discussion.

Let's face it, things get pretty heated on both sides of the fence. So we have decided, in typical fashion, that we are going to stop using the word "abortion." Because, really, it's much more positive (and we really ought to maintain a positive outlook even in the bleakest of times) to henceforth refer to said medical procedure as a LIBORTION.

Instead of saying you terminated your pregnancy or murdered your unborn child, isn't it so much nicer sounding to say the fetus was LIBERATED? I think it is.

Libortion: the new term for abortion. What do fetuses want? FREEDOM! When do they want it? DURING THE GESTATION PERIOD! (from Sarah-Sarah's twitter)

Anyway, so I was back at the radio station this evening for a meeting. And because I am horrible at timing transit routes, I was a wee bit (half an hour) early. And because it was so nice out, I decided to hang out on the steps which meant staring directly into the mass of flags. Fortunately the sign had blown over so their purpose was unclear. (It also appeared as though some of the flags had been liberated-awesome!) And then the true scope of the situation's humor struck me.

"Abortions for some, tiny American flags for others!" (-the Simpsons. Although I first encountered this decree via a Lawrence Arms' song, hence the anecdote at the beginning of this post.)

Regardless of whether the flags had been chose as a nod to the Simpsons/Lawrence Arms or not it pretty much made my day. Life is just awesome like that sometimes.

---
In unrelated news, I saw Bishop Allen last night thanks to Ms. Jodi and scored a bookshelf off the Sportz Night neighbors who have fled their lease like thieves in the night. Things are looking up.

p.s. Don't fear, Sarah-Sarah and I plan to continue the Sportz Night tradition by putting the George Foreman on the porch and throwing bean bags at the wall. It's for the greater good and a fitting tribute, I think.

For Hair Tying Emergencies, Presumably

I know I sort of promised a British TV post part two but that will have to wait because I had a super awesome day on Saturday and I am going to blog about it now for your alleged enjoyment.

1. I got my hair cut. It's ok. I'm like 80% satisfied with it. For the first time in a long time I went to a real salon instead of letting students hone their skills at my expense (I mean that literally, as in I pay for such service, and not in a mean way). The lady was nice and quick but I think she was a bit aggressive with her scissors. Especially in the bangs area. I requested swoopy type bangs and they sort of are but in the way that they sort of swoop an inch or so above my eyebrows making me look like a 12 year old whose mom trimmed her hair for school pictures. I don't really need a lot of help looking younger at this stage in my life.

However, I do like the way the rest of my hair turned out (for the most part). I'm really picky and, as I mention in my 25 Things About Me list (forthcoming, probably), I have only really liked one hair cut I've gotten ever. 80% approval is pretty good, actually. I'd probably go back and/or recommend it to friends.

Speaking of which, Big Hair (the salon), does not in fact have scissors that cut every third hair as I was promised. The stylist gave me an odd look when I inquired so I had to explain that the source was in rare form when she said it. I was still disappointed.

2. Walking around all day was fun. It was a balmy 50 in the city on Saturday, perfect for exploring new nooks and crannies which included an awesome toy store with Playmobils. So much fun.

3. In the evening I attended the sold out Los Campesinos! show with Sarah-Sarah. They. Are. AWESOME. I dancey danced awkwardly and sang along with great enthusiasm. It was one of the best shows. I'd never been to the Logan Square Auditorium before and was impressed by the venue.

The opening band Titus Andronicus was also terrific. In a high school band way. That sounds like an insult but it very much is not. When I was in high school, we only really had one local band (it was a small town). They often wore Hawaiian shirts and played music that was vaguely ska (it was a small town) and everybody loved them even if they'd never actually heard the band play. They were not like the bands we'd journey into the big city to see on the weekends. We knew that the local band would eventually make it big (ed. note: they did not) but in the meantime we liked their songs (or the idea of them) and their potential. They were rough since no one had tried to mold them into a marketable gimmick and we enjoyed that.

In the same way, Titus Andronicus seemed a bit rough but all the better for it. Sometimes they raged like Tim Kasher, sometimes the sound was mellow with harmonica. I liked both ends of the spectrum enough to buy their record (with free digital download) and got to hear the lead singer tell some kid just to steal the music online. The singer also had nice hair. That's completely unrelated, though. The very best part was that they did a cover of the Modern Lover's song "Roadrunner." It was very, very good.

And then they handed over the stage for Los Campesinos! Hooray!

I missed Los Campesinos! the last time they were in town which I regret now. They put on an enthusiastic show. As one might guess from listening to their albums. And even though we were not in the middle of the dance pit, we danced. Or, rather, I did my awkward shuffle thing that is as close to dancing as I get. I don't know what else there is to say about the music itself. They stayed pretty true to their recordings but with maybe slightly more energy. Oh, and at one point a line was changed to something pretty obscene...but it was funny in a cutting way so...

The between song banter was pretty spot on as well. At one point someone shouted that they couldn't understand Gareth (background: Los Campesinos! are from Cardiff and thus have a bit of an accent, unlike us Midwesterners) which led Sarah-sarah and I into a bout of quoting the Lauren Cooper sketch featuring Doctor Who (we're dorks) which also led us into making Doctor Who/Torchwood jokes/references (we're major dorks. background: Doctor Who and Torchwood episodes are routinely set in Cardiff where there is a disruption in space/time). Oh, also, despite announcing the band was from Cardiff Gareth also said they were British, which Sarah-Sarah corrected (quite loudly) which led Gareth to concede the point while simultaneously pointing out that he would clearly win any further argument because he had the microphone.

Touche.

Then they played some more including my very favorite song "Knee Deep at ATP." I was elated. So there was more dancing/shuffling. Sadly, the evening drew to a close not long afterwords. Instead of honoring my silent request to play all night, the band did a one song encore before leaving the stage for a final time. However, I can't begrudge them since they closed with "Sweet Dreams, Sweet Cheeks" which seemed like the most appropriate choice. By the time the last note sounded, most of the band were up on the monitors, singing at the top of their lungs. I think they had almost as good of a time as the audience.

We stopped by the merch table on the way out where I made purchase of aforementioned Titus Andronicus record, two Los Campesinos! EPs and possibly the coolest fan-zine ever. Gareth, who was manning the merch station and chatting amiably to the patrons, explained he made 100 of them to sell on tour. Mine is titled "Because We Cannot Lie All Night Together" (chosen for the car picture on the front which reminded me of my 25 Things list). Apparently the line is from a poem by B S Johnson. The 'zine contains a mix CD with 14 songs and correlating short stories. It's fantastic and well worth the investment. He was also asking for vegan restaurant recommendations and though I didn't say it to him, I will tell you that I firmly recommend Cousin's. Not the sub chain but the local raw/vegan restaurant on West Irving Park (in Chicago). For $9-ish you can partake in their truly excellent lunch buffet and sit on the floor while you eat it (I'm really into sitting on the floor of restaurants). Seriously amazing. I digress.

After the show we lingered out front to retrieve winter-wear from our bags and also to await an expected phone call. This is when we were accosted by an intoxicated young man (but clearly not a gentleman at all) who tried to slap Sarah-sarah's hand whilst knocking out my front teeth. He did not know the secret to the perfect high-five (look at your partner/opponent's elbow) and was recalcitrant in learning it from us. His loss. Somehow this led to him towering over my slight-of-stature friend demanding to know if she found him trustworthy. I'd like to also point out that he did not seem to be good at telling when people were lying. Fortunately his friends called him away soon after and we did not encounter him on the train nor on craigslist's missed connections board.

Meanwhile, still loitering around the venue area, we stumbled across Logan Square's video exchange. It's really an reclaimed newspaper box housing hundreds (or 20) of home-taped movies. We borrowed two VHS tapes with artsy titles. Well, mine had artsy titles scribbled on it, Sarah-Sarah's has a rap star/actor namechecked on the label. I originally gave it to a passerby but he was gentleman enough to exchange it for another when Sarah-sarah requested it back. In my defense, I hadn't actually looked at what was on it before handing it over and probably (but not definitely) would not have been so cavalier in giving it away had I known its contents. I do think we all managed to avoid going home with porn so win-win-win.

Then, just when I thought the night wasn't going to get any better, Sarah-Sarah pointed out a tall bike. My jaw hit the ground. I am super fascinated by tall-bikes and platonically enamored of anyone who rides one. It was lucky that we are scouting locations for a super-secret free CD exchange for the Chicago area. To take place in our neighborhood area, roughly, for convenience. Details to follow.

Holy terribleness, Batman!

Guess what I have in my bedroom right now.

It's a bat!



This is not the sort of nighttime visitor I would want, given the option. I'm just saying.

Mostly because this is a massive fucking inconvenience.

Seriously.

So a few nights ago I got up for a drink of water and noticed something swooping around in the dark apartment. But it was late, my vision was blurry and so I hoped I was freaking myself out given no evidence of a bat in the morning light. This seemed logical at the time because immediately after thinking "there's a bat in our apartment" I thought "it's probably a vampire."

All was forgotten until it came flopping out of my closet around 10:00 pm.

In case you were wondering, bats are not cute.

Thank goodness for roommates who can keep their head. Because, seriously, I never learned how to handle a bat invasion while growing up. So Sarah-Sarah called Animal Control who directed her to the city who promised to call the CDC for us. The CDC did not show up. So eventually we called back. Turns out the CDC is not coming out until tomorrow.

WHAT THE FUCK?
There is a BAT trapped in my room.
BATS are RESERVOIRS for DISEASE.

True story.

Couldn't they have at least called back to let us know we were on our own until morning (any time from 7am-9:30pm). Worse, both Sarah-Sarah and I have to work. And if the CDC shows up and we're not here, they will close our request ticket. Grr.

So now the bat is hypothetically trapped in my room. My cat is sequestered in the kitchen. And I am on the sofa for the night.

Except when I crept back into my room to get a few essentials there was no bat to be seen.

One for the Shareholders

So I don't know if you have ever found yourself in this position but I have unwittingly become witness to a tragic triangle of love. It would be awkward if it weren't so exciting.

Our cast:




(not their real pictures but close enough)

Here are the facts:

Sarah Jane-looks vaguely like Sarah Jessica Parker in real life. She shows up at the bus stop first having sold her Toyota Prius as part of a New Year's resolution. On stressful days she's running to make it as the bus pulls up. Either way she waits until she's seated and en route to do her makeup. This is how I know that she's not coming from her place. She majored in Comparative Lit at U of M (a lifetime ago-her words) and now works as a Realtor.

James-(doesn't really look like the dad from Gossip Girl) An aging hipster type. Coming from the same direction, he usually shows up a couple minutes after Sarah Jane, parking his Mini Cooper illegally to run into the Starbucks around the corner for his morning coffee (black with two packets of Splenda I suspect). He's the sort of person who's forever out of coffee filters which conveniently gives him an excuse to see Sarah Jane one last time before heading off to teach at Columbia College.


That's what I can tell just by looking at them. After extended observation I've also concluded:

-Sarah Jane sold James his condo. This is how they originally met. It's where they stay during the week (they rarely meet on the weekends, her decision, unless its at a laundromat in her neighborhood). She actually sabotaged the original closing for reasons she can't explain. Sarah Jane would never EVER refer to anything as fate. However, after three years she is ambivalent about the apartment.

-Even though James loves music (mostly old Dischord stuff and secretly the new Panic at the Disco album) they only listen to NPR together. Sarah Jane will never admit she hates This American Life. James listens to Click and Clack only out of habit.

-James has never had chicken pox. Sarah Jane has a scar on the back of her right calf just below the knee. She thinks no one has ever seen it but she is wrong. James often finds himself drawing it in constellations at work.

-Except for the Velvet Underground box set (for Sarah Jane) and a pair of reindeer socks (for James to wear to his uncle's funeral) they don't exchange gifts even after three years. He went to a wedding with her once for her college roommate. It was the only time they've ever fought.

-Sarah Jane secretly dreams of having kids. Usually fraternal twins. She blames this on being an only child. On the days when the longing is particularly bad she cancels on James and watches terrible movies like The Jane Austin Book Club. She hates these movies with an unrivaled passion. Watching them is her way of punishing herself.

-James watches four hours of the Weather Channel on the weekends. He doesn't dream of traveling anywhere. Two months after he graduated from college he woke up in Tulsa, OK with a guitar and two pairs of jeans in a back pack. He has no recollection of how he got there and left two hours later on a bus to Chicago. He now owns 2743 CDs and 432 records.

-James also loves to dance. Sarah Jane likes Wii Bowling.

-On the Wednesday nights James and Sarah Jane watch Fraggle Rock clips on Youtube and play Gin Rummy until 1 am. It's the best night of the week.


The plot thickens:


Bianca-James' serious girlfriend. Currently pursuing a masters degree at his alma matter (University of Texas at Austin). They met at some pretentious film screening at SXSW six years ago. She doesn't understand why James hasn't proposed yet and has no clue about Sarah Jane. Despite her hopes and dreams they'll never get married because he's never going to grow up.

True story, she was in town last weekend, I saw them together at Ikea. Awkward! This is how I know that she exists and that I'm not making this stuff up even if nobody else believes me. I was right about the Ace of Cakes thing and I am right about this!



Ok, and for real the robot thing tomorrow.