If this blog were honest

 

The way this thing works is that I have a journal that I write in from time to time and then the stuff fit for public consumption gets posted here, while the rest I keep offline.  There have been a few funny things that have happened to me over my travels that didn’t make this blog.   The offline content is basically all the personal stuff that goes on between my ears.  There is also some outright embarrassing stuff.  Originally the embarrassing stuff was going to go out to few close friends of mine via email.  But eff it …no one reads this thing anyway.  So here are the posts that would have been made if this blog were honest.

JANUARY 11, 2013

Negombo, Sri Lanka

My beard trimmer broke today.  More accurately, my beard/pube/chest hair trimmer broke today.  Damn you Wahl and your cheap travel products.  Guess I’ll be keeping my shirt on for asana practice at the yoga retreat next week.

FEBRUARY 1, 2013

Khajuraho, India

My chest hair has approached late 80’s Magnum PI levels.  No way I can take my shirt off for asana practice.

FEBRUARY 10, 2013

New Delhi, India

Well.  That was the weirdest place I’ve ever taken a $#!t.

FEBRUARY 14, 2013

Rishikesh, India

Effing monkeys.  I was walking down the street with some mangoes that were to by my lunch.  A monkey snuck up from behind, ripping the mango bag from my hand and racing up a tree before I knew what hit me. 

FEBRUARY 15, 2013

Rishieksh, India

I just farted.  It was glorious. Not particularly loud.  Didn’t smell.  No frat boys around to high five.  Nothing noteworthy really.  But after a week of “Delhi belly”, now being able to fart without worrying about $#itting myself is a wonderful treat. 

FEBRUARY 16, 2013

Rishikesh, India

My guesthouse neighbor is so nice.  She was with me yesterday when my mangoes got ganked by the monkey.  Today she bought me two mangoes.  …and the monkey got half of one of them again.  Okay, not the same monkey, but a monkey.  I was eating on the balcony and he/she came out of nowhere hissing at me.  I was defenseless and retreated, giving up half a mango on the table. 

FEBRUARY 17, 2013

Rishikesh, India

I have blown past any reasonable amount of body hair.  I’m 30 pounds and 3 inches away from looking like a young Ron Jeremy.

FEBRUARY 18, 2013

Rishikesh, India

I started this trip Indiana Jones style at the ruins of Petra.  I’m gonna end this trip Indiana Jones style too – which is to say I’m gonna kill and eat me some monkey brains.  Sure, I’m a vegan and pacifist.  But I have my limits.  Earlier today on the balcony a black-faced monkey (the normally tame ones, unlike the aggressive mango-stealing red-faced ones) came and bared his teeth at me.  The only thing in my hand was a cup of water which I threw at him.  Unfazed.  He charged.  I retreated.  From my window I could see him hissing at my neighbor.  She was better armed and took a swing at him with a cricket bat.  That’s what I need – a cricket bat.

FEBURARY 19, 2013

Rishikesh, India

Good thing I wasn’t looking to whore around this trip or I’d have to find a babe that likes Star Wars as I’ve gone Full Wookie.  It’s out of control.  Think they’ll ship a beard trimmer all the way to India?

FEBRUARY 21, 2013

Rishikesh, India

Situation dire.  Code Red underwear famine in effect.

Went to get the laundry off the clothes line on the roof today and I was down one sock and one pair of underwear.  Sure, the wind might have taken them.  Or maybe Natasha, the quiet Ukrainian chick next door has some weird fetish.  I blame the monkeys. 

You don’t understand how bad this is.  When I left California I was urged by my friend Casey to upgrade from two to three pairs of underwear.  Glad I did.  Back on Adam’s Peak in Sri Lanka I sat down in some red clay that trashed my shorts and underwear.  Then hours later had an Ayurvedic massage.  If you’re not familiar with the process, you actually wear underwear for some reason.  And they use lots of oil.  Even sans happy ending I was covered with oil as were my underwear.  Let’s just say that red clay and oil don’t make for a good look on grey boxers.  I washed.  I washed again.  They were toast so I threw them away and was down to two pair.

Now I’m down to one pair of underwear.  This is serious, people. 

FEBRUARY 26, 2013

Darjeeling, India

My body hair is so long that it retains water.  Back in Rishikesh I didn’t notice this as my guesthouse provided nice towels.  Now that I’m stuck for one night in a dive out in tea country, I’m forced to use my tiny travel pack towel.  I have to use it once to dry my fur, then wring it out and use it again to actually dry my skin. 

FEBRUARY 27, 2013

Darjeeling, India

I think I prefer the big cockroaches to the little ones.  The little ones are sneaky little bastards that come out of nowhere and disappear to places unknown.  Who can trust a creature that does that?  I feel much better about these big mother fahkers that are twice the size of my big toe.  When they enter the room on tile they sound like Fred Astair in tap shoes.  I can respect that. 

FEBRUARY 28, 2013

I find underwear in a street market today.  They look small so I buy size large instead of medium.  This isn’t to say my boy parts require anything large.  They just look tiny, I upgrade.  When I get home and put them on it is clear they are fit for the malnourished Nepali population that dominates the area.  Those Sherpas might have the red blood cells needed to climb to great heights, but they sure don’t have the quads and @$$ of an American cyclist.  I immediately discard the underwear.

March 1, 2013

Darjeeling, India

Free at last.  Free at last.  Thank God Almighty, my balls are free at last. 

Maybe I didn’t mention it earlier, but underwear pair #3 that I am forced to wear are actually runderwear – tight briefs I typically only use for running.  Forced to wear them every day, my boys were a little cramped.  But today in Darjeeling I passed a mannequin that was, as we used to say in the 90s, “bustin’ a sag” to show off his Calvin Kline boxers.  I ran in the store happier than Buddy The Elf finding The World’s Best Coffee and bought a pair.  They’re glorious.  

MARCH 11, 2013

Kathmandu, Nepal

Biggest. Spider.  Ever. 

And its in the bathroom.  No sleep tonight.   I’ll have to stand watch.

MARCH 13, 2013

Pokhara, Nepal

This is the worst day of my life.  My bs knock off Calvin Kline underwear exploded during yoga practice this morning, leaving a whole “down there” big enough for them to fit in the Crotchless Underwear category.

Negativity and Agression in North Clairemont, California

APRIL 16, 2013   

"This will not stand, ya know, this aggression will not stand, man."

- President H.W. Bush, as quoted by The Dude in the movie The Big Lebowski

“Anywhere but there’d been good.” My neighbor motioned toward my car with a closed hand full the same trash food that filled his mouth, making his grumbled command irritate me all the more.  After swallowing he pointed out the four other spots on the block I should have intuitively known were better options to park my car, for the spot on the public street in front of his house he liked to keep clear.   

At other times in my life I could see the point.  When I lived in a fancy South Florida neighborhood and drove a beat up Subaru with as many dents as window stickers I could understand why you might not want to see it outside your front door next to your Bentley.  Here, in a lower-middle class neighborhood of North Clairemont, California where the street was littered with beat up work trucks and trailers that haven’t moved since Arnold was Governor, I don’t see why my clean new vehicle presented an issue.

This is the kind of agression I’ve been up against for the last week.  My short-term housing situation has been a bigger disaster.  Since leaving college, here are some of the roommate situations I’ve had.  You guess which one would be the biggest problem and which one would be the most perfect fit.

1)   Sublet guy who smoked in my house

2)   Sublet raging alcoholic gay guy with three almost house-broken dogs in my house

3)   Shared house with a cokehead/self described “bar slut” female and a white supremacist male (swasktika tat and all)

4)   Duplex including yard shared with trust fund cokehead who partied until sunrise almost daily, occasionally broke TVs like a rockstar, and was on the registered sex offender list

5)   Aging hippie in an all-vegan house in the suburbs

Guesses? 

One through four worked out fine, though I have many interesting stories to share.  Number five describes my last week and has completely sucked.  Never before have I been so disrespected and unwelcomed in a shared living situation.  There are a dozen little things that drove me insane in the first week of living there, though I’ll spare you the details and insults she threw at me.  It was today that put me over the edge. 

After traveling without issue around numerous third world countries including three well-documented malaria zones and countless sketchy hostels and guest houses, I have recently involuntarily donated large quantities of blood.  To bedbugs. 

It’s disgusting.  My body is covered in red dots and scales.  The best part?  The homeowner is blaming me for bringing them back from India.  Nevermind that I just spent ten days living in luxury in The Emirates followed by a week staying in my childhood bedroom back in Detroit before coming here and that I never had bedbugs before that.  She’s certain I brought them. 

But geez ….if we only had an expert on the subject ….someone who knew something about this topic ….someone to set the subject straight…

…like the guy living in the guesthouse in back who happens to own and operate a pest inspection and control company!  As it turns out, the little fahkers live the walls.  Surprise, surprise. 

I packed my stuff and got out of there.  It the second time in my life I’ve broke a lease, abandoned my cash, and fled for safety.  The first time involved an “incident” that changed my opinion on the existence of ghosts.

So here I am.  In a laundry mat.  Despite the décor that is more hip than most lounges in the Midwest and despite the $10.50 per load pricing that can be paid with a credit card and despite all my other dirtbag adventures, there is nothing that make me feel more like the broke white trash that really I am than sitting in a laundry mat.  At the advice of the pest control guy I am washing and drying all my clothing in the hottest water and the hottest air the commercial machines will put out to kill off any bugs that may have decided to hitch a ride out of the dirty hippie home.  

 How mush of my training and racing gear is being ruined by the heat right now …$200?  $1,000?  I choose not to think about it. 

Days like this make me wish I was still a big drinker.

Nature Time near Laguna Mountain, CA

April 3, 2013

Escaped to Laguna Mountain area after two days in San Diego.  Great scenery.  Great riding.  Great to sleep outside in the fresh air.

However, my first bike ride in 3 months at 5,200 feet turned out to be a terrible idea.  The only good to come from that was these pics.

Had to retreat almost 25 miles downhill each day to a Starbucks to catch an internet connection.  It’s amazing how much of a day can be wasted with a simple commute.   It made me realize how badly I need my own space to hang out in.  Some place to sleep, read, do yoga, and just sit.  I feel like this space has moved from my Want List to my Need List.