makes good soup

I enjoy a good collage

I enjoy a good collage

Grandma brought a small container of Vegeta in her luggage for me when she visited last week, “so (I) can put it in soup.” This is wise counsel and a thoughtful gift. Vegeta can really can a soup going. It was a nice visit.

Georgetown Murder Starbucks

A few weeks ago I blew a flat tire on my bike coming down the hill on Wisconsin Avenue. Right by the Starbucks that was the scene of a triple murder in 1997.

I swear, that was the first thing I thought of when the flat happened. Well, no. First thing was: dang, I got a flat. And then the bike began thumping and wobbling. And so I stopped, and then there it was, I’m in front of the Georgetown Murder Starbucks. And then I was dialed in on that for a minute.

To be clear, Murder Starbucks isn’t a recognized place name. But couldn’t it be? I’m surprised it’s not, in fact; that triple murder was gruesome in the way that only a triple murder can be, and time doesn’t erase that.

Instead, it’s still a Starbucks. It’s still a Starbucks. Imagine that decision being made, in the aftermath, close your eyes and go back to to when this determination to continue at that location was agreed upon, by, I don’t know. By regional Starbucks management? Yes. Some highlights:

“Well first, let’s just say what we’re all thinking: Starbucks doesn’t cut and run.”

“Store revenue last year was notable. You know, the year before three of our employees weren’t murdered in a botched, after-hours robbery.”

“Right.”

“Well, it’s decided then.”

“Do we, I don’t know. Do we hang a plaque? Is that in bad taste?”

“Well, how would it read?”

1st draft for the plaque:

For their dedicated service
To a global coffee chain
Emory, Mary and Aaron
We’ll mourn ya til we join ya

/scene

Related: The Lululemon in Bethesda — where one employee beat another to death in a fit of rage — is still open.

I am spooked

But anyway, I blew a tire on Wisconsin, and I walked the bike home, and left it in my apartment. A day or two later I pulled and replaced the tube, reset the wheel, rode the bike around the corner, and the tube promptly exploded again. Buummmer. So after a solid week of squeezing past the derelict bike inside my apartment door, I got another tube, and this one is holding air. But the wheel seemed loose now, in that I could grab it and shake it back and forth in its setting.

I was spooked! I am spooked. I fall off this bike a lot (wear a helmet, everybody) and it’s a violent, painful, physical embarrassment every time. Could be this bike is trying to shake me, that it doesn’t think I have any business riding it.

I’ll weigh that possibility, but ultimately eff that noise because I’m calling the shots here, bike. Right now, I’ve got enthusiasm for bicycles that you’ll usually only find among adult converts to old religion. And this is rare for me. And so I’ll hold on to it for a few more weeks or months, and I’m going to learn something, bike, so you better just get used to it.

So! This morning I walked it, the bike, over to 1st and R NW, to the corner just outside the hipster coffee shop, where there’s a farmers market on Sunday mornings. A bike co-op holds a free clinic there. You show up, unload your list of bike problems – this one was mine – to a perplexed, grease-covered volunteer and then they help you fix it! For free! Donations not just accepted but appreciated.

And free is a very fair price. I have learned that tune ups in and around DC trend toward expensive, and while it’s true there’s plenty of shit I won’t ever know about bike maintenance, it’s probably wise to have a working knowledge of the thing I spend most of the year riding around on. So I’m going to get wise or die tryin’.

In case I do, I urge you to go on without me. I’ve been lurking around bike maintenance classes here, at a hardware store in Petworth, and skulking around outside of a bike co-op here, on the main drag in the Del Ray neighborhood of Alexandria. These places are well stocked and staffed by people who can answer basic questions about bike maintenance. Getting that maintenance done takes only a little effort on your part. So take advantage of these services! These services are begging you to do so. Go ride a bike.

Too much murder tonight

I’m watching a movie called Deathstalker, about god knows what, something nearly incomprehensible. this blonde dude with feathered hair and a six pack fighting rubber-faced monsters, going after an evil wizard. Also, it’s got Lana Clarkson in it. Lana Clarkson is the woman that Phil “she kissed the gun” Spector murdered in his recording studio a decade ago.

Deathstalker is pretty horrible, a combination of a half-baked Conan the Barbarian flick, which was a movie that seemed pretty half-baked to begin with; and softcore porn, because there are boobs everywhere. It’s kind of hard to follow the plot, because whoever was behind the camera seems to have papered over the thin moments with lots of topless models. Lana Clarkson, for instance, has been sans blouse this whole time, even when she’s chopping monster heads off. And Deathstalker spanned two sequels! I would have loved this in junior high.

This must be damaging my psyche. So let’s call it a night? Yes. Let’s call it a night.

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2 comments so far

  1. Anonymous on

    Dude if you blew a tube in the same tire twice in close succession there’s probably a rock, abrasive dirt, or some other shit lodged between the tire and tube. Anyway, if it’s holding now it probably fell out when you were changing the second one. I was advised when changing tubes to always try to wipe out the tire to make sure there’s nothing in there that caused the prob. -Spence

  2. dudeokay on

    good advice, man. I was pretty thorough checking the interior of the tire the second time around — I figured I had pinched the tube between the tire and rim, something like that.

    but incidentally, I blew another flat yesterday on the same wheel, and this time there’s just a giant hole in the tire itself. so either I’m missing something, or I rode through a bed of nails. probably the former!


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