You people make my ass twitch. My ass is twitching

Oscar and I rode our bikes to dinner on Saturday. We tried Limestone Grille, which came highly recommended. At first glance, it was lovely. My wine was delicious. Oscar's was a little tangy. Then, because we were outside, a moth flew into Oscar's glass. They replaced it no problem. But the food was lacking. Mine was a B. Not bad. Almost pleasant, but lacking in flavor. Oscar's was really boring. Any chance at conversation was sucked up by the next table over. They were loud and snobby and didn't know what grits were. Actually, the head of the table knew what grits were. He asked the other's as though they were some exotic food. Holding it over them that he'd had them with *gasp* shrimp. As it turns out, the grit-knower was the executive chef of the restaurant. They were also very annoyed at some absent friend's assertion that a Cowboy Mouth concert was better than a Rolling Stones concert. Now, I won't ever argue the supremacy of the Stones despite the fact that I don't love them, but comparing the concerts of Cowboy Mouth and the Rolling Stones would be like comparing camping with staying in a luxury suite. Some people prefer the outdoors. A Cowboy Mouth concert will be much smaller and much more enjoyable if you like to get involved with the band. There's some interaction with them. Plus, the drummer/singer is like Animal...


Back to bikes, Oscar and I rode on the Clear Creek Trail yesterday. We rode it twice so we got in just over nine miles. And that's where the title of this post comes from. My ass hurts. Cycling is hard on the butt. But it's a very light pain. It's more like a heightened awareness of my ass. After the trail, we hit the IU v. UCLA soccer game. I wussed out and we had to leave at half-time. It was just too hot and I forgot sunscreen. I would have been in bad shape if we'd stayed. As it was, I passed out for two hours when we got home. I have this hopeful paranoia that all my insecurities and emotional problems are due to a chronic, mild dehydration.