intimates
shopping for a bicycle is a very surreal experience. the conversation with the sales person invariably turns to the seat. which leads to talking about testicles. now, i'm not really a fuddy duddy. i'm also not real comfortable talking about my nads to my doctor. and here i am in some public place trying to explain to some bike head groupie that no, i really don't want anything, anything *at all*, between my legs at crotch level when i ride. sheehs. you sit in a chair with your weight supported by your pelvic bone and padded by your butt cheeks. you don't sit at the dinner table on a padded saw horse. that's so dumb you won't even try it. so why do you ride a bike this way? one sales dude tipped the gag. apparently, there are racing specs for a bicycles. and if your seat doesn't meet the specs, it's not legal to race. wtf? i'm not going to race. ever. someone should make a frikken seat that doesn't cause real physical harm to its uses. wait. i'm someone. boo yah. i'm gonna be so rich.