Episode 153: Victory Lap Revisited

"Don't come back for a victory lap, only losers come back for a victory lap...my brother did and he's a complete dick, fucking idiot." ~ Anonymous

This is not the type victory lap that is being referred to.

I've often said that the victory lap is a something you can smell on a person. It's the smell of self-loathing coupled with a whiff of devil-may-care recklessness. It's the smell of imprisonment and the smell of freedom all at once.

In fact, some might say I know quite a few things about the v-lap, but most of all I know this: I know why the caged bird sings.

At this point, you may be worrying that I've gone off the deep end and have started taking myself seriously. Trust me on this one, I wouldn't worry about that... ever. At least not on this blog.

At this point you might also be curious about whether this return to the blogosphere heralds some kind of resurrection. Maybe, but probably not. This is more like a one-off endorsement. Or a PSA. Or a stab at a denouement. I find that it's quite impossible to tell most of the time.

So back to caged birds, singing. The victory lap, the fifth year, five plus, grade thirteen, the Van Wilder (thanks again, Wikipedia). It seems like a terrible idea, yet 3.7% of high school students find themselves there (sorry Jimmy Wales, I'm mad broke). I was once among them.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

What can one hope to expect? I will detail these in two parts below:

[For maximal reading pleasure please start clip at :41 or you will experience deep regret]

Part 1: Fall/Winter

Well, you'll probably start off with imagining (resentfully) your peers experiencing the wonders of keg stands, emancipation, and more importantly WiFi (these are the main reasons for higher education, right?). These feelings will peak during late August/early September especially if you choose (ever so masochistically) to venture on to social networking sites (these will soon become your vice).

The victory lappers will huddle for safety in groups in the cafeteria. Shame, fear will be rampant. You will know your kind - whatever the reason (grades, indecision, immaturity, fading hopes of Ofsaa glory trololol) you are all the same. You will dare not look others in the eye (especially not grade nines; Jesus... wasn't that one kid your reading buddy?) lest your resentment boil over in to some kind of alcohol based tantrum/downward spiral (this is inevitable but will happen later).

You will soon find a posse of fellow dejected, disenchanted types united by your collective bitterness. You will become goons, haunting two places (I am assuming only runners and running groupies read this): the gym and the library.

The gym, obviously is a haven because core-o-clock & deluded upper body strength exercises will allow you to both channel your frustrations and avoid social contact. But the library? I don't know about you, but my high school's principal thought that if we had Wi-Fi the whole high school would descend into a terrifying [farm animal] porno-ring (she was a very misguided woman, but she was probably right about that). After all the decent proxy sites get blocked you will eventually be forced to start lurking sites that are just too puzzling to bother blocking (running forums, lulza). You will probably create at least 5 TnF accounts and might even consider posting on Letsrun, or descend into harder stuff (4Chan?!).

NOOOOOOO.

Also, this might give you the opportunity to vandalize and steal copies of Runner's World and the like (no one will notice because you will be the only one who reads these).

Every couple of weeks you will go on a far-flung adventure in which you will run fairly quickly around a grass loop or two and crush the dreams of legitimate high school seniors. This part will be pretty alright, if somewhat unsatisfying. You won't feel too bad about it since payback's a bitch. After Ofsaa you'll be an empty shell of a human being, no doubt. You might even consider dropping out at this point if the only reason you came back was for the O-show glory (which occurs conveniently before the drop date).

Then December will arrive. You'll realize that you actually legit have to make some life choices. Nopenopenope.

Then suddenly - your uni apps are due and you're done school... FOREVER-until-September-but-that's-so-faaaar-away (unless you're going back for the whole year... good lord that sounds awful... seriously don't do it).

Part 2: Winter & beyond

You will march out of your high school expecting to feel like BAMF. Sunglasses off, never look back. You won't though. It will be snowy and barren. The only glory you will feel is your new-found ability to taunt any persons still involved in institutionalized learning.

So. You've been dropped from the pillars of responsibility and expectation. You could do something meaningful with your time. You could travel, get a wicked job, save the world. Or you could realize these things are much too ambitious and purposeful for the likes of you. You will catch up on a lifetime's worth of internetting. Every day will feel as long as a life age of the Earth (winter makes me want to watch Lord of the Rings).

After 6.5 days of this behaviour, you will feel crazier than Jack Torrance snowed in at the Overlook Hotel. You will need a project. A fifth year project.

Things will go downhill from here. Remember how I foreshadowed those old library habits becoming vice and that crazy alcohol induced downward spiral? This is that time. You will memorize all the facebooks, all the blogs, all the twitters, all the wikis, in the name of research. Either that or you'll become enamoured with the delusion that you are an elite runner and go overboard on mileage, core, cross-training (and inevitably become injured leading to a catastrophic cascading effect of futility and boredom). Or perhaps a strange combination of all these things. Yeah. Definitely all of these things.

You have arrived: there is a blogger account calling your name. You will find yourself hiding in a bush wearing dark sunglasses at high school meets.

Real life? What is that? Your entire existence consists of watching people run in circles like a hamster on its infinite treadmill, spiraling out of control to the rhythm of the background music (seriously, if you didn't hit play go back and do and reread this whole thing).

You will know no other way to live.

Soon you'll become enamoured with another delusion- that actual people and stuff care about your life. There is no hope now.

You have become Speedgoggles.

Okay, you actually haven't, no one can be me. But you will, no doubt have a similar trajectory should you choose the 5th year.

Moral of the story? Choose your own adventure at my behest.

Episode 152: Non-denominational winter holiday

...is a solemn time for me.

Don't get too caught up feeling sorry for me though... this is mostly just a cry for help. What kind of help?

So glad you didn't ask! The deity of your choice smote in a most furious and wrath-filled fashion my parental units' wireless router in early May. I'm trying to guilt them into fixing this situation via the most ineffective means possible; a blog that is read by neither them nor their associates.

EDIT: Not sure if it's coincidental or not, but I can now go home for Christmas.

*Seizures are actually more likely to occur due to bright, flashing lights in recovering alcoholics than in epileptics (cool/attractive physics teacher, 2007). Perhaps I should worry...

Episode 151: Muchachos & Mustachios

Remember how I said I was going to do a mustache prediction post when I 'got my shit together'?

Well, that didn't really happen; no one regrets more than I (with the small exception of that part of myself that cares about my transcript... but no one likes that guy, not even me).

But less on dissociative personality disorder (thanks wikipedia), and more on mustaches. Now, I was planning on obtaining photographic evidence, or at the very least taking notes (walking around the club with a notepad FTW), but these things, much like the prediction post were only wishful thinking. So I must rely on memory... ruh roh.

& so we begin... in order of ascending exciting-ness (naturally).

Spectator of the Year
I know an unfortunate amount about spectating, and not just 'cause I'm the biggest creep around. Woah... that's an unexpectedly emo twist to this otherwise lighthearted article. Let's pretend that never happened... anyways, the 'stache comp isn't just about those who toe the line - it's about the supporting cast as well.

As usual, there was a strong contingent spectator 'staches. In fact, I would suggest that the Windsor-Guelph showdown was reciprocated in spectator 'staches. Nominees in this category included CIS alumni Dave Weston and Matt Hulse, mid-D bro Matt MacDonald, tri-dude Ian Donald and that-one-guy-from-Mac-who-wore-nothing-but-a-pair-of-very-revealing-white-split-seam-shorts-and-body-paint (not sure if his 'stache was that good, but Imma give him the shouts anyways for his ballsy outfit... I know how tough wearing underwear in the snow is).

After much ado and head scratching, I have decided that the title of Spectator 'Stache of the Year goes to Matty 'Mac' MacDonald of the Gryphons, but only because he looked like a less musically talented version of Freddy Mercury. Ya'll can probably understand how I feel about Freddy Mercury.

The Bowling for Soup Award
If you don't get this reference, it's probably because you were much cooler than me in the year 2002 (most people, really). Anyways, this award goes to the individual whose mustache attempt was the most abysmal and embarrassing.

Unfortunately, I didn't keep any close tabs on this one. I am blind to mediocrity. Feel free to call out a friend (or perhaps yourself) in the comments section for this one.

Rookie of the Year
One might expect the pickings in this category to be rather slim (pun probably intended), but this year's crop of rookies definitely stood up to the challenge. For example, actual rookie of the year Aaron Hendrikx of Guelph was seen sporting what I like to call the Chad Kroeger (look at this photograph). Frankly, I find Chad Kroeger to be rather frightening, so I'm not quite sure what that means in terms of Hendrikx's standing. I'm more into what I like to call the Magnum PI-dadstache (please don't mention anything about the Electra complex, that's awkward). Boisvert and Cassidy also deserve honourable mentions for their respective lumberjack beards.The award for rookie of the year however (in my books at least) goes to Dylan Haight of Victoria. Was it because his 'stache was substantially better? Not particularly. Was it because he ran heroically over the killing ground of at least one of my ancestors (weird fact)? Not especially. No friends, the reason that Haight receives the rookie honour is because he told me he was a fan. Moral of the story? Brown-nosing trumps hard work and perseverance every time.

Team Title
This category was relatively easy to decide upon. While strong showings were put in by Guelph, Victoria and Regina, the clear champ was obviously Windsor. If you can't take home the big prize, you gotta go for the next-best-thing. Or as I would put it, if you have to be the bridesmaid, you gotta looks so faboo in that fugly dress that the bride will worry about a runaway groom. To each their own, I suppose. Anyways, the Lancers showed unassailable depth and coherency (Walters, Janikowski, Berkis, Aguanno, Falk) that could not be matched by any other team. Kudos... I think.

Individual Champion
This is the one you've all been waiting for, I can feel it. With last year's overwhelming champ, Kelly Wiebe of Regina out of the picture, the field was wide open (reference to the Plains probably intended). Nominees in this category include Childs of UVic, Lecours of Guelph, Ikram of Laurier, Denault of TO, and basically the entire Lancer team. But like, who won? Much like the rookie of the year category, the decision-making process was somewhat suspect. Luckily, this isn't the 2002 pairs freeskate Olympic final, so no one actually cares. The actual winner is none other than Matt Walters of the Lancers (anonymous blog commenter will be pleased). Why? He kept yelling something at me, but like that Barbara Streisand song was on so I couldn't understand shit all. So naturally I assumed that he wanted me to write something about him in my blog. Isn't that every male runner's greatest fantasy?

That is all. If you want me, I'll be nervously awaiting my inevitable nomination for the Pulitzer Prize.

EDIT: I received a rather nasty threat from a Mr. Kieran Doyle, stating that if I didn't mention him somewhere in this post he would refuse to wear split-seam shorts ever again. I don't really know who this guy thinks he is, but I truly believe that the world could be improved by an increase in the old split-seam. I suppose his filthy handlebar mustache was decent too.

Also: I'm going suffer the delusion that I am more affluent than I had imagined by pretending that this is not a coincidence.

Episode 150: This is not the content you are looking for

Saw the guy a day later in the pool, easy kick outstripped his free, sups awk, wonder if he noticed?

Sub-optimal quality complaints? I have an infinite number of excuses, so don't bother.

Episode 149: This is an episode.

Of madness.

But in all seriousness, I might post some reasonable content in a couple of days once I get my shit together. Sorry for my absence to all the true fans out there (nope, didn't think so).

But for now, I am making a request: nominees.

Nominees for what?

Mustache supremacy. That's right... you see where this is going. If not, well then my upcoming post will just give you that much more excitement.

So please, send me* the names (and possibly photographic evidence... the Flying Spaghetti Monster only knows how much I like that sort of thing) of those who you feel best (or perhaps worst) represent the filth that is Movember/CIS. Please consider the following categories**:

AUS ("out East", lobsters)
RSEQ (Quebec-land, poutine)
OUA (Centre of the Universe, suburbia)
CanWest (Left of Thunder Bay, dragons???)
Rookie of the Year



*acceptable means include in person, blog comments, 3:30 AM drunk telephone calls, or pigeon carriers.
**not an exhaustive list; I don't like to show my cards.

EDIT: I am incapable of getting my shit together; expect a report on this after the event...

Episode 148: This is not an episode.

Sometimes I refer to people in my head by their TnF usernames. Sometimes I'm tempted to externalize these aberrations, but don't because simply put, I've forgotten to be awesome. Seems like I've been forgetting a lot these days...

Anyways, sincere (or at least, as sincere as a cat like me can offer) thanks to the random spectator who did not forget to be awesome this Saturday. I don't know who you are, but you significantly improved my morale (in a rather sorry state at the time).

Episode 147: For everything there is a season

Does this mean my retirement is over? No. I just felt that it would be a crime against humanity to not create this cartoon.

If you do not understand it, it may be because you failed grade 9 math.

Episode 146: Beer Mile Race Report

After being asked to summarize my beer mile experience, it is inevitable that I must call upon the veritable fountain of quotations that is well, myself. If that sounded at all, in any way like the words of someone who has some shred of self-esteem, do not be taken in; the quotes I am speaking of are rarely wise, rarely funny, but rather, pithy and ironic.

Example:
"Beer... never fucking again."

These were my main thoughts while downing my fourth can of Sleeman original draught. Why Sleeman's? 'Cause it's brewed in Guelph, aka the running mecca of the Great White North, which as I would know all too well being the avid track "fan" (I use the term liberally here) that I am.

Anyways, after that beer I defaulted to anti-vomiting mode and thought no more, probably closed in like 2:00 or something godawful like that, dodging puke all down the back straight (not mine obvi... when Speedgoggles uses anti-vomit mode, it's super effective). The main reason I did not want to vomit is probably not what you think, however. I was not that I was worried about having to do a penalty lap... it was because I realized that I would have to drink even more beer, which I had already vowed to not do.

Some vows, however are made to be broken, because the remnants of that six pack were certainly not going downtown with me (insert joke about six packs and beer guts here).

My time was like somewhere north of 9, but well south of 10 minutes, third overall female (I'm female?!!?). Ack. The main thing I will take away from my first beer mile is that I probably should have followed my training guide; specifically the parts about practicing running with carbonation and chugging. My excuse is this: as an avid wine drinker I am ill-practiced at those kinds of things.


Anyways, for all the creeps out there, here are photos which prove I am a real fictional person.

Obviously before the race started.

At least I'm not trying to waft the beer...


Beer no. 2 or 3 or that number of months preggo... after this the pics got too greasy for even me to post.

After this debauchery took place, many fine liquor establishments were terrorized by some crazy bitch wearing only underwear and a purple wig. I even encountered someone I creeper added on facebook who recognized me. This, like most of the surreal experiences of my existence resulted in the interior monologue, "Shit don't phase."

Over and out for realz this time,
Speedy G.

Episode 145: Retirement

You knew it was coming.

Employment was the final nail in the coffin. Speedgoggles' primary characteristic was unemployment. And futility.

Don't worry, the futility still applies.

Having achieved most of the primary directives initially set at the outset of operation speedgoggles, I feel that it is time for me to hang up the purple wig before it gets awkward and sad, like the third Spiderman movie.

Do you feel like a piece of your childhood has died? Didn't think so. Anyways, there's still room for one last stand - a victory lap if you will: the beer mile (and inevitable consequences...) which I alluded to in the Jack Daniel's post. Don't worry, I'll post the evidence.

And what were those directives? Classified.

-Speedgoggles... out.

PS. If you think I'm joshing and that I will inevitably come crawling back here, you're probably right. I'm that kind of guy.

Episode 144: Culture Clash

Thanks Globe, I've always been looking to expand my audience in the yuppie/WASP category.

May scan later...

EDIT: I'm too lazy to scan... if you were too lazy to go take a peek at the Globe, there was an article about running forums, TnF gots the shout.

There was also an article saying that I should wear bike shorts under my skirt when I commute to work... joke's on you Globe, everyone's seen me in my underwear.

Episode 144: The twits

I gots 'em.

No guys really, this is me. Your mind=blown, your innocence=devastated, your faith in humanity=decimated.

Etc.

Episode 143: The day, it has been seen

So back in April I did a wee bit of a race report. Today, I bring you another bloggerly staple: the music blog. I never thought I'd see the day...

Disdain.

In this edition of Blinded by Speed, I will not attempt to impress you with how fresh and cool my beats are, but rather how encyclopedic, clever and ironic I am (read embarrassing 80s tunes). Let's be real kids, being cool is passe (or in my case, negative). Being overbearing and patronizing is so much better.

It's also much easier to do in your mother's basement tip tapping on the ordinateur.

Rest assured that youtube will still be raped.

And so... we have...

Speedgoggle's fave creepin' tuneskis

Obviously.



So many of Blondie's songs are tinged with 'I go through your trash for funsies' type sentiments.




Looks like some weirdo got to doing a homemade music vid for this one before I did... sad.



A work that transcends all.




Speedos? Schoolboys? Am I Bonnie Tyler?



I once made alternate lyrics to this song... please never ask me to repeat them.



Songs pertaining to running always taken literally.



I enjoy being rickrolled more than the average internet user.



Begs the question, what is this, I don't even.



Yehaaaahhh.


Ok, looks like I've reached my quota for self-hatred.

Fin.

Episode 142: Comic sansassin

It's funny because the type in the cartoon is sans-serif.

Episode 141: Comisssh-shun

This piece, as the blog title suggests, was a commission. What that really means is that I was not cool enough to think of this idea. No one would be stupid enough to pay me to act out their deepest, darkest Paintbrush image alteration fantasies...

Moving on... to a token life related note: no, I am not dead, just dead inside. Why is that? I blame the overuse of my 'normal people' functioning mode. What is that? That is fancy talk for when I avoid communicating via animal noises and try to believe wholeheartedly that underwear does not constitute proper attire. It is so wearing.

What is the meaning of this nonsense? It means that I am no longer funemployed. So say good-bye to sarcasm of the daily and moping variety, and hello to sarcasm of the snide, hateful and sporadic variety.

That is all, please continue with your previously scheduled internet shenans.

Episode 140: Murphy's Law

Unrelated story: this one time I proposed marriage to someone while they were racing, then I ended up accidentally throwing an apple core at them. How does one accidentally throw an apple core at someone? Beats me, all I know is that is what happened.

And no, I have never even spoken to this person on the internets, much less in real life. Some might say that is awkward, I say it is hilarious.

Episode 139: Jack Daniels' Running Formula*

I have been meaning to do a post in this vein for many moons, but the opportunity simply had not presented itself... until now. Yes, ladies (?) and gentlemen, I give you my fail-proof** beer mile training guide.

[Why this, why now? I'm doing a beer mile in the near future. Unfortunately, the events of the last year place me in a position where the former poses less of a problem than the latter. I know. No mile speed. This is never a good situation if one is a runner, and will likely result in poor results all round.]

Anyways, let's get started.

Base phase

As with any solid training program, you want to start with a good base. If you do not have a good base, you will not be able to reach the upper echelons of beer mile supremacy.

So what does this "base phase" consist of, I hear you ask. Long slow runs, with long slow water breaks. At this time in the game, it is important to get your stomach to adapt to the volume. Volume of liquid. Cool your bottle openers (or... teeth?) alkies! 'Tis not the time for beer consumption [yet].

To aid with this adaption, quantity must be stressed over quality. That means you should take small water stops and progress slowly towards larger water stops. Do not worry too much about the time between water stops in the base phase. By the end of the base phase, you should be able to stomach 500 mL of water per stop.

Another important aspect of the base phase is continuous, slow consumption of beer separate from running. Maintain this light load throughout the training block to yield optimal results.

Strength phase

So now that your body has adapted to the ills of sloshing, it is time to work on your strength. Gag reflex strength. During this phase, you will attempt to adapt to the inevitable carbonation of the beverage you will consume in the heat of competition. This, aside from the base phase, is probably the most important of all the phases. Failure to comply may result in injury to your spirit due to penalty lap caused by your weak resolve.

The mainstay of the strength phase is to consume carbonated beverages such as pop or soda water during intervals. In the beginning of the strength phase, intervals should be longer and volumes of carbonated beverage should be over-volume. As you near the end of the strength phase, you should move towards less volume, both in liquid and interval length. Steering towards canned beverages in this latter part of the phase will also prepare you for the next phase...

Speed/Specific Training Phase

Yes friends(?!), now is the time to start cracking the cold ones. Intervals with beer. This is the time to experiment with different brands (trying new things on race days is for n00bs, as I am sure you are aware).

To get the most out of your training, you should also do some chugging drills, including practicing the run-up to the transition zone and precision beer tab opening.

Sharpening/Tapering Phase

Ok. All the hay is in the barn. The beer is in the fridge. All systems are go.

Now is the time to practice your chugging, and keeping your reflexes fresh. 3-4 days out from the competition, you should practice chugging a couple of beers in quick succession - only as many as feel good, you don't want to strain yourself. From this point forth, you will go dry. You are now into the taper. As tempting as it may seem, it would be silly and wasteful to blow your load the night before the race.

Race day

Give 'em hell, believe in your training, all that crap. You will be a champion. If not, your mother still loves you uh, I guess you're not a complete failure.

So there you have it: the first (as far as I know) beer mile training guide.


* The beverage, not the guy, silly. It should be noted that Jack Daniels is not an appropriate beverage for a standard beer mile according to teh internetz.
** Method has yet to be tested by author, but sounds good theoretically. What could possibly go wrong?

Episode 138: Guilty by association

At this time I would prefer not to discuss how long it took me to make that...

Episode 137: Well, this is awkward...

Creeping yourself: lots of people do it, doesn't mean you want to get caught.

Episode 136: unemployed, off-days

Tired of hearing about how I am funemployed yet?

Hope not, otherwise this post may try your patience. Actually, funemployment is probably the most interesting of my life’s problems ATM, which isn't saying much. What other possible life problems could I have? All the ones that matter, except for rodent infestation (for now...).

To clarify, for the unlearned, funemployment is the state of being unemployed, while not being particularly concerned about it due to the pursuit of activities that normal employment generally prevents (stalking all track meets south of the 45th parallel). Actually, I am kind of concerned about NSF cheques and resorting to living off of cat food, so perhaps I should remove the "not being particularly concerned" part.

But let's not tire ourselves with definitions. Instead, I propose to bore you with the sorts of activities of the funemployed runner, lest you ever come to find yourself here. If you cannot find it within yourself to laugh with me, please laugh at me.

1) Feeding ducks in parks. I live near a park with lots of ducks. Ducks are basically my favourite animal. Last summer I spent an afternoon training ducks at my cottage to come knock on our door. Unfortunately, similar efforts in more recent times have been circumvented by a phobia of wasting bread end pieces... so I've moved on to trying to tame the chipmunk that lives in my shed. His name is Frank. If he gnaws on any wires in my bicycle, I will be ruined, so I'm a little apprehensive on this one and have more recently made a target of our neighbour's cat, which I have also named Frank (in my head).

2) Lurking at cafes, blogging. This is what normal funemployed hipster-type-20-somethings do. I'm not sure I need to explain about scamming WiFi, buying cheap items in order to not get kicked out and pretending to be artistic. Avoid this activity if you have a penchant for ironic self-loathing, as I do.

3) "Artistic" endeavours. My room kind of looks like some kind of pretentious art student took over due to the number of vandalizations "customizations" that I have undertaken in the last month. As a result, I will likely lose my lease deposit. If you lack paintbrushes you can always pretend to be a photographer too, especially if your auto settings are well programmed.

4) Showing up at track meets. This is a given. I even went to an elementary school meet. If you are a cop/other concerned citizen and you are reading this, I can assure you I was "off-duty" for this one.

5) Stretching, copious amounts of core, ridiculous cross-training forays. One can only run so much before one inevitably becomes injured. To produce the illusion that you are somehow taking advantage of your free time to somehow improve your fitness, the aforementioned activities will usually suffice. Bonus points for attempting the first two in public, without a shirt (see next point).

6) Weeerkin' yo' tan. Lie outside, long periods of time, no shirt. Bonus points for doing core at the same time, and every awkward social encounter that you manage to incur.

7) Refreshing facebook 20000 times per minute. Did I just admit to that?

8) Actually posting on Letsrun. Definition of unemployed, how embarrassing.

9) Becoming literate. Read one of those books that will impress people at parties. For example, I am reading "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" and may move on to "A Scanner Darkly" assuming the above activities don't interfere too much. If you have difficulty with this, hit up wikipedia (see sidebar) so you can pretend you read the book. Or... you could become an aficionado of cult classic movies. This will detract/distract [only slightly] from how much of a loser you are when you finally get around to social contact.

10) Walks, long, aimless. Sometimes it's helpful to pretend they have a purpose, because it's difficult to wander around for hours without one if you are very type A. Common examples of these "purposes" can include "going to the bank", "going to buy X" or "going to take pictures of X" (see #3). Bonus points for combining this one with any of the other activities on the list. If anyone points out that it would be much more efficient to use another means of transportation to achieve your goals, get on your environmental highhorse.

S'all for now. Core-o'clock beckons, as do the impressionable retinas of my frightened neighbours.

Episode 135: Bias

After completing this cartoon, it occurred to me that the steeplechase deserved its own category. The response for both parties is this:

"I hope someone falls humourously on the water jump."

If this makes you sad (non-distance people read this?) don't hate the playa, hate the game... or something like that.

Episode 134: blog rockin' beats

If you thought this was going to be about music, wtf were you thinking?

Episode 133: Token life-related post

Fact: the little stats do-dad on this here blog thing informs me that "you people" seem to enjoy reading about my life's miseries (don't worry, I can't ascertain anything further about you other than your preferred internet browser and your computer affiliations... much to my dismay).

Schadenfreude. One of my favourite words.

I suppose I have a tendency towards finding myself in strange situations. Speaking of strange situations, next Friday and Saturday are going to rewrite the definition. But... anyways. I believe this may have something to do with my propensity for making bad life decisions, knowingly and without concern. For example, in the last 8 months, I have left the house without pants four times, which probably isn't normal.

But on to today.

The Warm-up:
1) Tucked and rolled on to a sidewalk from a bicycle to avoid assassination by public transit.
2) Spent 15 minutes hunting some middle aged fat man on an expensive bicycle on some country road.
3) Was studying on my deck when I was accosted by two missionaries. I had a great deal of difficulty keeping a straight face because at the time I was reading an essay concerning the ethics of abortion.

Ok, I'll admit all that stuff was probably more pathetic than funny. That's what happens when you are funemployed, as I have been for a very long time. You become victim to the delusion that people care about all the things you aren't doing during the day so you can pretend you enjoy sitting around your house between workouts.

The main story is probably in the same category now that I think about it, but I imagine it gave onlookers a laugh or two. And if there's one thing I enjoy, it's people I don't know laughing at my expense.

So it began like this:

I was biking home from da mofo poo', my favourite place of all time. Please note that I look like a large dirt because I am wearing sweaty workout gear and birks and am riding a road bike that could be in a museum.

Obviously going to the Beer Store at 4:30 on the Friday of the long weekend is a bad idea, so that's what I did. Line was out the door, but dammit, I vowed not to return home empty handed. I get to the front of the line and was mildly concerned that my ID would be revoked on account of my looking too filthy to be recognizable.

Luckily this was not the case. However, it turned out that my beer of choice came only in a case of a size that could not be carried safely in my spike bag.

Since the line was probably halfway to Australia at this point, I went with the larger case, justifying it as a bulk purchase.

But now I had a dilemma. A serious one. One for the ages. The most fundamental of all man's struggles.

The transportation of a bike, and a case of beer. There was no room for my sense of dignity, which had vanished much earlier in the day.

At first I thought I could try to bike while holding the case of beer. Then I envisioned broken bottles, dreams. I decided to take the safer, slower option: walking with the bike, while holding the case of beer. This turned out to be reasonably efficient since the top tube of my bike is ergonomically designed for such things. Win.

Wait, so why is this funny?

Probably because I didn't think of putting my helmet in my spike bag. So what I'm sayin' is I looked like the largest doofus you could possibly imagine.

A red-bike-short-yellow tank-sweaty-birk-wearing-helmet-rocking-beer-on-bicycle-being-walked doofus.

That is all. Enjoy sitting in traffic for four hours on the 400,or whatever it is you people actually do on the 2-4.

Addendum:
I was in a really bad mood a while back and wrote this. I can't tell whether I am being sarcastic or not, which means it was a success.

Episode 132: Shady bizz

I own approximately 10 pairs of sunglasses, none of which are ever used for the purpose of deflecting UV rays. I suspect I am not alone.

Episode 131: Cabin Fever

My most sincere apologies go out to Stanley Kubrick and the chipmunk that I plan to tame.

Episode 130: When I'm in church, please no photos

I think this is a race report. Isn't that what normal athletes with blogger pretensions do? Haha, jk this is really just a creepy scrapbook, I'm not in denial.

Rowland Games 2011:



Just surveyin' the scene. Assessing critical factors. The usual. And no, that is not a snuggie, it's my leopard print blanket.


Premium lurking location obtained.


After 800m in I got too excited to take proper pictures. Steadycam, like many other things in my life, couldn't handle my giggling fits.



I'm sure there's some sort of reasonable purpose for those, but all I saw were literal speed goggles, because I don't have any concept of events under 800m.

Delicious but questionable, much like my presence. Useewutididthar?

Photorealism at its cartoony finest.


That is all. Apologies to all casualties who found themselves within firing range.

Episode 129:Exercises in live-action trolling

Car creeping: usually limited to bored 10 year olds on school buses/stuck in holiday traffic. I do not believe it should be so. Here are some of my car creeping experiences:

1) Met my soulmate. If you know a man from Dayton, OH who drives a green Subaru Forrester and has a penchant for mullets and aviators and using his feet to steer, please direct him here. I'm still quite upset that I didn't manage to communicate my phone number to him.
2) Offered a french man M&Ms in Montreal. Unsure if he was confused about the language or the offer, or both.

So how does one car creep?

1) Be in a car, preferably in slow-moving highway traffic or at a long red light. Safety is important or something; you don't want to cause a 50 car pile-up.
2) Locate the victim. Usually a car with interesting looking passengers in it. Avoid vehicles that look as if they have firearms in them. This includes cop cars. Cops do not like being car-creeped, and you do not like being arrested (I assume).
3)Do as described in the cartoon. The poker face is especially important. If you fail at that, you fail at everything.
4) Usual response:
i) stage one: denial. People will pretend this is not happening in hopes that you will stop. If you do, they win. Sometimes people genuinely do not notice. Then you super lose, and need to try harder.
ii) stage two: disgust/amusement. Depending on the personality of the victim, they may make rude gestures or fall into fits of hysteria. Either way, pretty funny.
iii) stage three: mimicry. Assuming traffic conditions play out in the favour of a long-lasting encounter, the persons in the other vehicle may mimic your silly behaviour. This means you have won.

So there you have it, I suppose.

Episode 129: Keeping up appearances

365 days ago I made a cameo appearance in this unsuspecting person's race footage. Ok, so actually it was like 365 minus a couple of hours. 12? No... that doesn't make sense... 15... who knows? Tits, I'm confused now. Minutes ago I was deriving a formula for pi, I swear. Simple math, much like the definition of appropriate attire, and a few other critical life skills continue to elude me. Let's pretend that never happened and say it was exactly 365 days ago.

BTW, pi is exactly 3 now too.

Was going to post this as one of my "clues" in October, but the video in question was lost in the murky sands of internet-spacetime, if that's even a real phrase.

Episode 128: Making sense...

...it's not something I like to do.

Seemed like it was appropriate thematically, for some reason.

Episode 127: Bitch please

It's a mofo conspiracy, yo... I got the market on no pants, purple wig.

Episode 126: I'm just a crosshair...

And so it begins.

Episode 125: H-piddy

I find strange things when I clean up my desktop.

Haven't made an H-Piddy reference in a while. Shit must be getting tough or something.

Episode 124: Stranger danger!

"I'm not quite sure what to make of that... or you."

This is how my Thursday night ended. I think I'm getting ahead of myself.

Some people collect stamps. I talk to strangers on the internet, amongst other things. If I were going to get technical about it, I'd classify most of my endeavours under the name of "social experimentation". No, like fo realzies and all. However, I prefer to call a spade a spade, so I tell people that my hobby is "trollin' randoms on da intranetz."

Uh.. so.. what was I talking about? Oh yeah. Talking to strangers.

There are various situations in which one can converse with strangers. I have taken the liberty of making up terms to describe situations, in the case that like Kurt Vonnegut, I am awarded a PhD in social science based a humourous novel that I have written (which I will likely never get around to writing).

1) Double stranger, double blind - neither party knows the other, neither party can see the other. Occurs mainly on the internet, in chatrooms and the like. Could also occur on the phone or in prison if you use a spoon to dig a slot large enough to pass letters to the person in the cell beside you. This type has the greatest scope for amusement if you can avoid being absurd to the point where the conversation becomes nonsense.

2) Double stranger - you guys don't know each other, but you can see each other. Usually occurs IRL or on chatroulette. If IRL this isn't usually as funny unless you meet another crazy person or you are both very drunk.

3) One-way stranger - Kind of like a one way mirror...you know the other person, they don't know you... creepy. I don't feel the need to go in depth on how this happens... isn't that what this blog is about? At any rate, for those daring enough, this type of conversation is usually hilarious, and I seriously recommend it.

4) Pepperspray - some stranger starts talking to you and offers you ice cream and you're all "STRANGER DANGER" and then you go home and cry and sleep with a knife under your pillow. This one is not very fun.

So on Thursday night, I decided to embark on a little category 1, aka trolling Likealittle chat. Initially it was a little boring. In fact, when some fellow asked if I was "DTF" I told him that he should think of a more interesting question to ask me, such as my opinion on porcupines as travel companions. Sadly this individual was unable to handle my crazy and left.

So then I did what any normal individual would do... switch to another campus. I actually did this several times, which is almost as funny as it is sad. As is clear by my leading sentence, I did eventually find someone interesting to talk to. For some reason I sent him here (if you're reading this, extra lawl) and found out he was also a runner and knew one of my "associates" (Speedgoggles doesn't have friends, obvi), which was, in the words of the aforementioned Vonnegut, an example of "busy busy busy".

Eventually though, I had to drop the bomb. And by that, mention casually that the only time I'd set foot in his current locale was to purchase a souvlaki sub from Mr. Sub. It was an excellent sub btw, totes recommend it. The response was as noted. This revelation, unfortunately, led the individual in question to be able to figure my true identity***.

Trust that I'll be sleeping with a knife under my pillow now.


***no really, tnf lurkers, it's not that hard...

Episode 123: Goggles

That's a lot of goggles. ~6 eyes for the day, I believe.

PS, dear guy who googled "legit swim goggles" and came here, I sorry lulz.

Episode 122: Nostalgia

Watching this made me want to take my camcorder out of retirement and record a Speedgoggles-specific version of this video. The main difference would be that there would be more internets and the vomiting would be replaced by "sick" beats.

Also, I think today marks the 1 year anniversary of Speedgoggle's existence, as it were. What was I doing during that ~1-2 month period before I started bothering people like you?

Reeeeeeeeeeeesearrrrrrrrch.

Obviously.

Episode 121: Ringo Starr

Justification for lack of posts in during forthcoming period of time:




Thomas the Tank Engine was always my favourite show because my mother liked the Beatles.

Oh, and if you're a Lancer, I probably signed your shirt.

Episode 120: Bitches be crazy/Serendipity

I believe the DSMMD is in the habit of employing more politically correct/scientific terms, but I am rarely in the habit of being either so I'm fairly unconcerned.

That being said, you should probably be a little concerned*.

Speedgoggles' favourite serendipitous internet finds, week of March 6 2010: Concise edition

this.

Watch out, Sherbrooke.

*despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary I am actually a relatively stable person. Swears!

Edit: Brockville should watch out too. Srsly.

Episode 120: Creeping 101

Have I been smoking crack for the last 10 months?

H-tits! This blog's been going for 10 months? Ridiculous.

I think I'm getting ahead of myself here. A while back someone asked me to explain what I meant by "fully creeping" a facebook profile. I was a little flabbergasted by their confusion, but explained anyways (doesn't everyone secretly do that? No? Just me? Ok.). I think that person probably went home and annihilated every trace of their existence from the internet.

Possibly a wise choice.

So anyways, I guess I'll outline how to "fully creep" someone on fb (this is of course, as opposed to a superficial creep, where one simply does a cursory glance at the profile pictures and such).

Facebook Creeping for Idiots, or Creeping 101

1) Secure friendship request. If the person does not add you, avoid sending harassing private messages because then they for sure won't add you and you'll look like a loser. You don't want anyone thinking things like that, even if they are true.

2) Decide where you will begin. This depends a lot on the nature of the profile. Yes, there are types. I've classified them and given them taxonomic names. But let's not talk about that right now... I recommended starting with the personal information section, so that it can be possible to appropriately stereotype and judge the individual in question based on what they have written (or not written in the case of lazy/pretentious types). Click on every single group/fangpage/clickable thing the person has on their profile that you are unfamiliar with.

3) Proceed to the profile pictures. It is wise to view this album separately as often times people's profile pictures may not appear in their tagged photos, unless they stole them from someone else. You don't want to miss out on anything, because this is the "full" creep. Be sure to read every comment, and observe every single person who has liked each picture/comment. You should probably takes notes too.

4) Proceed to the tagged pictures. Sometimes it's fun to creep these backwards so as to get a chronological sense of the individual. This part can occasionally test your resolve, especially if the individual has 1512 pictures, of which 1132 are incoherent blurry party pictures. Like a tough workout, this is something you just gotta endure. The process of observation is as for profile pictures.

Note: If you're really creepy, you'll want to click that little "download" button on the sidebar, then save the file to an appropriate folder on your desktop where you hide your pr0n and other such embarrassing things your mother wouldn't approve of.

5) Proceed to photo albums. Sometimes this step can be skipped as the individual may not have any photo albums, or those that have been uploaded are so shite that it's not worth creeping. Like an album "funny pics lol", which entails photos that grandmothers send in chain letters when trying to be funny. Videos & notes (be careful to avoid emo poetry especially) fall under the same category.

PROTIP: use the arrow keys to go through pictures. Clicking is dangerous. You might end up doing something regrettable that will be used as evidence against you. Avoid this at all costs, unless you want to be caught (kinky!?).

6) Finally, move on to the wall. This is usually the best, so you should save it for last. Go through the whole thing until you locate the first wall post. This can be arduous, depending on how long the user has been facebooking and how prolific they are. If something amusing catches your eye, go creep some friendship pages. Repeat the process for each friendship page. As you can imagine, this process can take a long time (which is a relief since I am unemployed).

NOTE: as soon as you leave the wall, all your hard work will be erased and you will have to click "older posts" 500000000 times to get back to where you were. It's so upsetting. Mark Zuckerberg, if you're reading this, please fix that.

7) You are done.

8) Bonus: creep the individual's family and friends!

9) Drown your self-loathing with ice cream and/or hard liquor!!!

10) See person the next day, have trouble looking them in the eye. Accidentally bring up their "emo phase" from 2007. Never speak to them ever again.

So there you have it.

Be concerned.

Episode 119: reverse question mark

Expressing my displeasure.

Episode 118: Trendin', or, Time Wastin' pt II.

Indirect correlation, I think not.

Fact: Sudbury's town passtime is googling Ofsaa.

Episode 117: Time wastin'

Someone asked me to define what a hipster was. I told them that "hipsterdom was the personification of postmodernism." They did not know what that meant. I did not feel the need explain further.



60% of a true story.



Of the many lines which blur before my eyes, this is one.


No explanation required.

Episode 116: Emotional Conflict

Probs going to be posting something er'yday for the rest of the week because I really can't think of more productive ways to spend my time.

Episode 115: SNAFU

Please don't think that I was adept enough to think of that comment at the time.

Episode 114: Deja-vue

Remember this?

[Probably not, like 1.5 people viewed my blog in May. If you are not among those 1.5 people, I suggest you do, my material was quite fresh. Even if you were among those 1.5, you still should, it'll probably give you a chuckle the second (or possibly tenth?) time around.]

Anyways, I'm back at it (seeking employment, not creeping... I never stopped doing that). Why am I telling you about my woes?

i) possibly hoping someone will take pity on this internet cartoonist/real-life lowlife and compensate me with cashmoney (3%)
ii) to amuse and confuse by telling you about jobs that I would like (85%).
iii) I am bored and lonely. (12%)

Ok.

So here are some jobs I believe would be ideally suited to me, given my interests, qualification and a decent sense of poetic justice (in no order).

DQ cake decorator
I mean sure, I'd probably end up just drawing dinosaurs and justin biebers all day long, but in my job interview I could casually mention this here blog, and other things that make me over-qualified and highly unsuitable for the job.

Lifeguard
You get paid to watch people. Probably mostly dirty old men, but that's just the poetic justice part kicking in. I like to refer to them as "certified creepers". I know someone else who likes to call them "pool nazis". To each their own.

Running store
This is kind of like the lifeguarding one, wherein I have high hopes of creeping on the job which are highly unrealistic and will only result in ironic situations that will both depress and amuse. I guess the silver lining would be the cheap shoes and crap.

Slave to some academic overlord
Maybe they'll pretend to be impressed by my ability to do pseudo-data management and make sweet graphs! Then I can sit in front of a computer and "multi-task".

Freelance floski
Let's be real, I wouldn't be able to get a job being a real floski. One can only dream of such things. What'll probably happen is I'll dress up in my ceremonial garb, grab my cam-cam and try to interview my cat.

Aight. That's all I got. Gotta go attempt to write a resume that might not get shredded on arrival.

Episode 113: Blinded... by calculus?!?!

This makes sense because speed has a lot to do with calculus, which was invented by some guy called Newton, who liked to do science.

Jesus H. Christ, if you still don't know what I'm talking about (a common occurrence), please consider the following:


Edit: I guess I posted this because it was Valentine's day two days ago. Sorry for my tardiness.

Episode 112: Quote me.

OP probably didn't realize I have this particular line posted on my bedroom wall. After this tip-off, expect me to post many awkward confessions on this site... I'd say they're anonymous, but let's be serious, you'll probably be able to tell who wrote them... if they ever get approved.

Episode 111: Contempt is the new creep

To answer the question of the ubiquitous philosorapor; yes. Problem?

Addendum: legit saw a guy running on a treadmill with a plastic spoon tucked into his sock last week. There's actually more to the story of this guy, but the sock thing is humour enough for one night.

Apologies for the shift from creeping to sassing/moping as of late.

Episode 110: If I were a music video...

If art is the reflection of your soul through another's eyes, then dial up the mofo' Louvre, y'all.

Episode 109: How it is.

When I am asked to create graphs IRL, it's awkward.

Edit: Sub-optimal quality due to extreme inebriation.

Episode 108: Shallow, yet profound.

Pretty self-explanatory; I spend a lot of time on the internet. You know what's funny? In grade 6, on our yearbook page we got asked where we would be in 10 years. I said that I'd be alone on a Friday night doing homework, ordering pizza over the internet.

I am surprised by the perceptiveness of my 12 year old self.

On that note...
...I need new hobbies.

Episode 107: Token Running-Related Post II

This post is in a similar vein to my previous token running related post, in the following ways:

i) adverse weather conditions
ii) failure to return to starting location of run
iii) awkward social interactions required to deal with ii)

The irony of the fact that I spent the better part of the afternoon in question perusing socially awkward penguin images is not lost on me. It's nice to know that other people are as depressing as you are, even if they are anonymous forum users.

Anyways.

Turns out that in the course of a 23 minute warm-up, one travels a fair distance. Ok, actually, you don't, but when you decide to bail on a workout due to the fact that you are lamer than well... usual, it seems pretty far. I rationalize that I can easily walk 10 min ks, so at most it'll take 46 minutes to get back to where I started.

The trouble is, it's pretty chilly out, and I am not wearing much clothing. This is so unlike me! [sarcasm].

While contemplating death by exposure on a suburban sidewalk was fun for a couple seconds, I realized that it wasn't an option, since I have some pretty funny life goals. I quickly narrowed my options down to the following:

i) Taxi... so good that I carry cash while I'm running! Even if I did, I wouldn't have done it because I am a cheapskate. That, and last time I rode in a taxi solo, the driver kept telling me stories about her bf's "cute Jamaican ass".
ii) Hitchhike.... kind of sketchy... I mean... the world is full of weirdos! I know, because I am one of them.
iii) Locate route with maximum retail stores, take breaks to build up courage (and body heat) every 500m.

FML. None of these options are all that sweet.

Then I have an epiphany. I am not in Kansas anymore! Hail the city bus! I am saved!

Now here's the socially awkward part: I do not know where the nearest bus stop is, nor when a bus will come, or if it will even be the correct one. Oh yeah... and I don't have my bus pass with me.

Luckily (luck is on my side about 4% of the time) I manage to find a bus stop that has people waiting at it. I join them. It's kind of awkward because I'm dying, and dressed a little strangely.

Luckily (I'm probably SOL for the rest of my life now, having used my luck quotient for the next decade) the bus that arrives is one that will take me back to my winter coat and more importantly, my keys.

So now all I have to do is convince the bus driver that he should let me on his bus. I don't feel like I need to tell you why this was awkward and funny, but I will anyways to emphasize:

"Uh... so I don't have my bus pass... I was running... now I'm kind of crippled [points vaguely at leg] and can't walk... please let me on? I SWEAR I HAVE A BUS PASS!"
"Whatever. Don't let it happen again."
[Again? Yeah, next time I plan on being crippled in the middle of a winter run, I'll bring my bus pass...]

As you can see, I am not so eloquent IRL.

So I got on the bus.

Good thing, too. My back-up plan (epic meltdown) would have been even more awkward, and also pretty difficult. Seriously, it's hard to bawl when your eyeballs are frozen. Try it some time.

So that's kind of where the story ends. I didn't die, not even of shame.

Oh, and then I watched Polar Express (with a friend*). On a Friday night.

*I am attempting to make myself seem less pathetic. So futile.