It's not me baby, it's you!

Friends, a number of interesting things have happened since we last conversed.

Yes, we talk.

In fact, I talk to you often, imaginary and occasionally real friends of the intertubes. More often than not, I'm recounting to you the events of the past week and asking you to weigh in on which happenings and thoughts are blog appropriate and which ones are not. Most are not. The following story is censored because I'm still testing the blogging waters. If you want to know the full extent of my experience (and you can't infer for yourself) just ask me, Sunny or Diva Thin Muffin.

Now then. I have mentioned before that I love my padded bike shorts. As it turns out they love me back. Let's just say I had quite an experience with them in Spinning class last week . . . an experience I was not prepared for and did not consent to. Now, our relationship has changed and I am uncomfortable around them, can't look them in the eye, am not willing to return phone calls, etc. I don't know yet if I can take them back.

As a slight aside: I went with option B - not adjusting the shorts when Major Cute Guy is spinning directly behind you. In retrospect I should have gone with option A and just adjusted as needed because let's face it, Major Cute Guy is already staring at my padded ass . . . how great can I really look to him? I'm such an idiot sometimes.

Why does this matter, well, because Sunny and I actually started biking this weekend. Yes! We rode our bikes. After much ado about helmets and parking and being too good for maps and such, we got on our bikes in Santa Monica and rode for two and a half hours. For me, this experience was sans padded bike shorts. Not pretty. Seriously, there are actual physical ramifications for this decision. I took the bus to work today because sitting on my bicycle was UNfun.

So there you have it. Bike riding.

Here are my initial thoughts from the ride:

1. Being outside beats being inside. There is just no way around it. It felt so nice just to ride. It was a beautiful day. People were out on the beach and in the marina, just kicking it. Nature = critical to my happiness.

2. Planning the route is overrated until you realize that you might end up at Sunny's house and could have avoided driving to Santa Monica, parking, traffic, etc. in the first place.

3. The Los Angeles river is not a pretty river. Yes, there are like a gazillion species of cool ocean and river birds but there is at least ten times as much litter and muck. It's also made of cement. It's probably a stretch that it's even called a river. But seriously Los Angelenos, WTF? How hard is it to find a trash can? Is this some bigger social problem where you really can't see the beauty that surrounds you? Is the stock of Los Angeles so low that you actually think you live in a trash can? Are you freaking kidding me? Los Angeles is amazing and it's a privilege to get to live in this city. Take care of it you assholes.

4. Shoes and Clips. I bled from the ankle for most of the ride due to one minor run in with some sweet ladies out for their morning walk. I mean, Sunny didn't want to hit the ladies so she hit her brakes so I hit my breaks and so on. The problem with fast breaking when your feet are stuck to the pedals is that you fall over. I was warned of this and thus have been living in fear of falling over for weeks. So instead of taking the fall, I decided to panic and thrash so that when I did get free of my pedal I was able to slice my ankle open on my chain and thrust my frame into my "lady parts" to the tune of a 4 inch black and blue welt. Sigh.

5. Santa Monica Farmer's Market has a bike valet. That's not my thought. It's just a cool fact that I learned. Also, I purchased two new jars of honey while at the market: California Coastal Wildflower and California Sage. Freaking BOMB. Get ready for some tasty honey based breads in the next few weeks.

And of course, I should update you on the latest news in our quest for husbands, because really that's where all the comedy is anyway.

Sunny and I went to get some sushi in Lil' Tokyo last week. Ok, ok. We went to get Yogurtland but Sunny maintained that frozen yogurt does not a dinner make and thus forced me into sushi. It was going to have worked out fine too, because we were seated next to a totally cute boy who was all alone. So we sat down and maybe it's the pheromones or maybe I gave him a weird look . . . but he immediately got up and asked to move seats. Then he came back about 15 seconds later and said "Don't worry, it's not you!" What? Excuse me? Fuck you guy. Let me guess, it's you? Ha! It's fine though, he got what was coming to him when his amazingly beautiful date showed up. That will teach him.

What did we learn? Probably should avoid telling people "It's not you." Everyone knows it's a lie. Just be honest. It's okay that you don't want to sit next to two girls who will make your date feel totally inadequate. Just say that next time, guy. The proof of the pudding is the eating. (Yes, that's the accurate phrase and it's from Don Quixote. Now you know.)