Friday, June 29, 2007
Team Whymommy Roundup
Team Whymommy
Over there to the right, you'll see a new sidebar box. This is the Team Whymommy box. There are already some bloggers listed there. Their links will take you to posts they have written about Whymommy. These bloggers are building the foundation for the Wall of Support that we are creating for Whymommy.
Any of you are welcome to join Team Whymommy. There are two ways to do this:
1. Simply display the button on your website or
2. Write a post about Whymommy and send me the link.
Or you can do both. I hope the list grows so long that it takes up my entire sidebar.
Please join us. The button won't be green on your site. I don't know what is up with my template lately. First it ate my header and footer, and now it is turning random buttons green.
I digress. Please let me know that you will be one of the blocks in our wall of support for Whymommy. There will be bling forthcoming.
Thanks.
Edited to add:
Please leave me an email address if your blogger ID is "no-reply." I really want to be able to send you the button or help with the code, but if I can't hit reply to the comment that comes through email, I can't send you the code. I'm not ignoring you, I just can't reply to a comment without an email. Thanks!
Thursday, June 28, 2007
All these things are true
Reposted from November 30, 2006. Back when Cleatus was still hanging around and Little Bear was just still incubating. Back when she and I were the only commentors on our own blogs. As you can see, Whymommy was tough then, and will be up for kicking some cancer ass now.
******************
The biggest disagreement I remember having with my best friend was back in high school. She thought the paper luminaries that lined the sidewalks in my neighborhood were pretentious. I thought they were beautiful. It was probably the first time I agreed to disagree with someone, so I credit her for teaching me that all important skill.
There are so many things she has taught me. The most relevant things lately are about motherhood. She has never given me bad advice, so I'm relying heavily on her as we both incubate our little ones. This is her second and my first.
Whymommy has a beautiful mix of left-brain and right-brain. There are times when I feel like I am in on that secret; like she doesn't share that right-brain with very many people. I have been packing up my house for the past several months and came across a journal that Whymommy gave my in high school. It was inscribed "From one closet writer to another." As we both blog now, I guess you could say that we have come out of the closet. See you later, Tom Cruise.
As she blogs, she handles honesty gracefully. During her pregnancy, she has been plagued with sciatica. It has put her on 8 months of bed rest. Dealing with constant excrutiating pain can be handled a few different ways. You could write about it and hope you get sympathy. You could write about it out of anger. You could simply not write about it so that you wouldn't burden people with the ugliness of the situation. Whymommy chose to handle it differently.
Without ignoring what is a significant part of her life, the pain, she has been able to write about this pregnancy as a mother and a scientist. Is she in pain? Yes. Is it controlling her life? Only certain details. Is she still focused on Widget and the incubating Whybaby and their development? Absolutely. But she writes with the calm precision of her left-brain and crafts those words beautifully with the right. That is just who she is.
She posts about learning opportunities that she has found for Widget even when she is stuck on the couch. She posts about braving the playdates even through the pain. She posts about the hope of physical therapy and is honest about the disappointment of finding out they were wrong.
She continues to post, no matter how she is feeling, and I continue to learn from her. I hear encouragement in her words, hope, contentment, and love. She helped give me the courage to leave the professional world as I thought it should be and make a new life and new work for myself at home. Stay-at-home-part-time-self-employed mother. SAHPTSEM.
There is something else amazing about Whymommy. She has been able to accept help without feeling like it is a sign of weakness. My parents still have trouble with that. Watching someone struggle and refuse help is frustrating and sad. I am so proud of her for allowing her in-laws to come into her home and help them with Widget, the cooking, the cleaning, whatever. Whymommy has been able to maintain her dignity through a time when she is flat laid out. She even had Thanksgiving at her house with all the grandparents and who knows, maybe she will feel up to Christmas too.
If you haven't gotten to know her, you are missing out. I hope you will go spend some time with her today and be inspired. I certainly am going to just that.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
And we don't stop
While nothing is on my mind more than my friend, we made a pact yesterday that life will go on, and we will be happy. Right on. So just a few words, and then onto the triviality.
Thank you for all who stopped by and visited her yesterday. Hopefully we'll meet over there a bunch and be her cheerleaders.
Bon wrote a beautiful post about her, and while I sort of felt like a crappy friend because I couldn't come up with words like that, I loved it nonetheless. That's just Bon though. She always has the right words. I, however, have junior high notes and poetry which I will break out if needed. Mwhahaha. Don't worry Clifford, we'll leave the boys out of it.
Slouching Mom too, offered her blog post in support of Whymommy. I would just like to say for the record, how grateful I am that fabulous writers are cropping up all over to say wonderful things about a wonderful woman.
So my mundane life . . . I got the worst pedicure ever today. When I left, I looked down at my toes and each toenail was rimmed in blood. It was sick. No wonder it stung when poured some sort of alcohol solution on them. Bitch. I tipped her too. I felt like going back in and shoving my bloody toes in her nasty fish smelling lunch and asking for my money back. I was so glad to be away from her nasty fish smelling lunch though, that I refrained.
Guy did it. He started a blog. He's funny. You should go visit him if you have a moment. I though the funniest part was that he was trying to get the name Fancy Pants for his Google email, and it wasn't available. Neither was MrFancyPants. Or MisterFancyPants. Or any other version of Fancy Pants. I mean really. How many more freaky men are there in this world that would want to name their blog Fancy Pants? At least three. So he went with Plans To Match. The other half of the phrase. I think he is planning on writing about things that make me laugh a lot. If that's true, he's going to be a busy blogger.
My yoga teacher decided not to kick me out of class. I'm so happy. She wanted me to find a prenatal class, but there wasn't one that was not right in the middle of my teaching schedule. So I talked to my doctor, and she said that I could keep going until my belly stopped me. Which could be next week if I don't stop eating HoHo's.
The doggy pregnancy monitor still says everything is good. I ordered a doppler, so that soon, I can quit relying on my dog to tell me if the little bird is still alive or not. Until it gets here though, I will most likely continue to call her up daily and have her put her head on my belly. Tail wag = good. I also analyze how much she follows me around. Both are dumb I know, but it's all I have until a week from tomorrow when I go back for my paranoia ultrasound.
That is all. I have to get ready for my last lesson with one of my favorite students. He graduated this year and is heading off to college. It's very cool to see a kid grow up, be successful, and leave, but it's sad too. He is a terrific guy, and I'm going to miss him much. You can see a snippet of him ripping through some Rachmaninoff here.
Until later . . .
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Building that wall a little taller and a little stronger
Whymommy has some answers. You can read them here.
Her request is no pity. No feeling sorry for her. Flood her with your positive fighting cancer ass kicking thought and prayers.
The treatment will start July 13.
I'm caught between wanting to be my normal self making inappropriate jokes and not wanting to make light of the situation. In short time though, I think I will find the balance. She will need me to be me.
Being me means that I am the friend who is fucking sick of cancer hurting the people I love. Therefore, I will absolutely stand by her as she fights. And wins. And there will be nothing but positive fighting cancer ass kicking thoughts and words from me. There will be nothing but support and the belief that she will win.
No pity. No weeping. No moping. She is going to fight, and we are going to support her. We are going to keep holding up that wall of support (bolstered by Mamma's ass). We are going to write to her. Make her meals. Clean her house. Babysit. Listen. Talk. Laugh. Shop. Read. Pray. Love. Survive. Laugh some more.
So get out of here and go leave some love and positivity at Toddler Planet. Okay, that was bossy. I should have said please, but I'm feeling all Steven Seagal now. Minus the greasy ponytail, but with all the fighting and ass kicking and stuff.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Silence can be so loud
Well, at least I know that I still love him.
Guy went back to work today. He left about 7:00 AM, because that is what he does. The first time he has to be somewhere, he leaves about a week early so that he won't have any chance of being late. It's one of his many endearing qualities.
Today the house was so quiet though. As I sat in front of the computer hitting "check mail" like I had a tic, there was this thick silence all around me. I would step out of my room and look around, perking my ears up for any sound. There was nothing.
Guy walks around the house singing and talking to the dogs. He makes up words to jingles and songs, often incorporating the word schmoopie into them. I tease him that he just likes the sound of his own voice.
Really though? I like the sound of his voice. I love the sound of his voice. I miss the constant chatter of noise that goes on when he is here.
I miss my Guy.
I'm wishing that we could go back to our original plan of spending his severance package on lottery tickets. Powerball indeed.
Black clouds
Guy says I need to quit reading sad blogs. When he found me crying over my laptop when Kate lost, and we all lost little Liam, he didn't understand. He wants the best for me, and he wants me to be happy. I understand that. I want to be happy too, but sometimes, things aren't happy.
And you start reading. And then you start caring.
The first blog I actively followed was Miss Zoot. The crocodile tears I cry now are for her. She has had another miscarriage after getting a good green light on Friday. Have I met Zoot? No. Do I know Zoot? Only what she writes. Am I still heartbroken for her? Absolutely.
I'm now praying this is the only bad news to post today.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Surrounding you
There is a line I don't want to cross. It is the line of blogger relationship and friendship. Since she has blogged about it herself, I'm going to dance lightly around the subject. Since it has been heavy on my mind for days, I'm going to dance lightly around the subject.
Since she is my best friend, I'm going to dance ever so lightly around the subject.
I fucking hate cancer. I learned what cancer was when I was 7 years old. My mother has been fighting it off and on ever since then. The waiting game involved with cancer is one of the crueler components of the disease.
The possibility that my best friend has cancer makes me so very angry. Because even before the results are in, you have to start fighting. Because it's not just the disease that people have to fight. It's the fear. The fear is enough to topple even the strongest person.
There is the initial discovery that something might go wrong. Then you wait for your turn at the doctor. You go to the doctor, who confirms that something is not normal. Then you wait for your turn at the specialist. You go to the specialist, who confirms that more testing is needed. You wait for your turn for the testing. You go get tested.
Then you wait for the results.
Tomorrow, and possibly Tuesday, and dear God not Wednesday too, she will wait. Her family will wait. I will wait.
I am asking that you wait with her too.
I envision this wall of people, bloggers, who can stand around her while she waits. I see a strong circle of women and men who will be hoping for the test results to come back "benign." I see this shield risen above her so that she knows she doesn't have to wait alone. Because no matter what the results are, this time right now, this waiting, pushes the pause button in your life, and you can't breathe again until you hear an answer.
Monday morning, Whymommy goes for her biopsy. Please just click right on over to her and leave your comments there. Please.
P.S. I know you know this, but I love you dearly, and have complete faith that whatever this is - you are going to kick its ass.
Hanging onto my oatmeal
It's Sunday. I should be helping Guy get the house in a state where workers can take over from here since he starts his new job tomorrow. But I'm not. I'm just laying around hoping that I don't throw up my oatmeal. Oatmeal coming back up would be really disgusting.
Thanks for all the reassurances that I'm not crazy. I'm looking into the doppler. Did any of you actually have a prescription from your doctor, or did you just rent it like a rebel?
The back pain is better now. The doctor said that it was most likely just my uterus tipping back into my kidneys. Then I felt like a wimp because if I think that hurts now, what am I going to be whining about in 6 months?
Ooh. Did you catch that? A thought to the end.
Well that's new.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Little Bird says hi
Quick update. Saw the doctor. Didn't even have to ask for a heartbeat check - the ultrasound machine was already in the room. Found a heartbeat on a little snowy blur. Saw the little bird moving all around when she back the view up some. Things looked good.
She is bringing me back in week after next for another heartbeat check. I almost told her that I was fine and didn't need it, but then I remembered the crazies and just said "thank you."
I knew I could trust my dog.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Back by popular demand, crazy me
I suppose this is the first time I have noticed that the understanding of having readers has kept me from posting. There has been quite a bit of crazy going on, and instead of writing it all out like usual, I have kept it to myself.
Not wanting to spread the crazy.
Today, I decided that was silly. The origins of this blog were to talk crazy. Say all the things that I didn't want to or couldn't say aloud. So think what you will, I'm about to get loony.
Saturday, this baby will be 9w2d. That is when they said Cleatus died even though he hung around until 12 weeks. Try as I will, I cannot stop thinking about it. I have been working in the house (new bamboo floors and a painted music room), reading (first two Harry Potters again), and even signed up for Twitter (to have somewhere to post the mundane). Even if I'm successful in taking my waking mind off of it, then I have nightmares.
I have analyzed the day to day to death. Do I have cramps or is it my intestines? Do my boobs still hurt? Is the pain in my lower back what I felt before I lost the last baby or is it my kidneys?
Here are some of my favorites though: Is my dog still following me? Do you think she can hear a heartbeat? Come here, Pupstar, and put your head on my belly. What do you hear? She just looks up at me and wags her tail, which I took to mean that maybe she still heard a heartbeat. It could just as easily mean that she's loving all the laying around I'm doing. More snuggle pup time.
The nightmares are the worst part. In one I was just pregnant over and over again. I was known as the mother to 9 week old fetuses. In another, I woke up and there was blood all over the bed and I started screaming like I was in a horror movie. Guy came out of the bathroom and told me to calm down, it was just a little blood. I couldn't stop screaming.
I don't know. There is still some nausea. I am more tired this week than I ever have been, but it's sleepy tired, not worn out tired. I get breathless walking up and down the stairs. And I'm so incredibly on edge. My emotions are out of control, and I'm pissed off most of the time. What a joy for Guy.
So maybe everything is alright? The pain in my back though has gotten intense. There are no other signs of a uti, but I swear it's my kidneys that hurt. It's that deep gnawing pain, not sharp pulling or cramping pains.
Tomorrow morning is another appointment. I want the doctor to confirm a heartbeat again for me. One of my other fears? That she will say no. That she will say it's too early for a doppler and I can't have another ultrasound. Can she even do that? Even if I'm willing to pay for it out of pocket?
I thought I was stronger than this, but if I don't get some confirmation tomorrow one way or another, I might just fall apart. I'm going to be like Elaine with the black marks on my chart. All the doctors will know I'm the crazy one.
I could always just take my dog with me tomorrow and tell the doctor that she is my at home pregnancy monitor.
So good night. Enjoy the crazies. They will be here all week long.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Hi ho, hi ho
It's official. Guy goes back to work on Monday. The extended, albeit forced, vacation is drawing to a close.
On the one hand, I'm relieved that he will be receiving a paycheck again. My employment as a musician is satisfying, but really covers little more than the expenses I incur. The piano is not cheap.
On the other hand, I'm going to miss him so much. We have become totally spoiled. Some days we get up early and start working on the house. But other days we'll lay in bed until 9:00 or 9:30, just snuggling and talking. There is nowhere to be. No deadlines to meet. Just the two of us.
The layoff couldn't have come at a better time. We were newlyweds. I had just lost the baby. We were in the middle of major home renovations. There were plenty of reasons that it was wonderful for him to be home with me all the time. We have taken trips, played golf, and hiked as much of the local greenways that we could. It has been wonderful.
He thanked me yesterday for "letting" him be laid off. I didn't understand. He said that before, he would have been pressured into taking a demotion or into taking any job, just for the sake of having employment. Instead, he felt like I let him make his own decisions, trusted him, and supported what he chose to do. Well, duh. That's called respect. And I have loads of it for him.
Guy is a smart man. He works hard. He plans his moves. And now, instead of taking the first thing out of the gate, he was patient, and will start a great job doing what he loves this coming Monday. I'm super proud of him. The drive is longer. The pay and benefits aren't quite as good. But the point is that he hasn't taken a step backwards in his career. He will still be working on the forefront of genetics research, and that is where he wants to be. I couldn't be happier.
Well, I guess I could be happier if he could find a job where the requirements were to stay home all day with me and rub my head while calling me Schmoopie. That, and a good health plan would be swell.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Daddies
The man I live with, am married to, and love, is already a father. His little girl means the world to him, and watching her grow up this year has been hard for him. She has hit that growth spurt where childhood sails into the background and young adult takes the lead. The teasing and tricks he used to pull on her no longer fly; she has got his number. The nicknames have become something for her to roll her eyes at instead of a giggle draw.
While Lovely and I were out and about yesterday, she asked me why he still called her "the little poopy stink." I told her that it was hard for daddies to let their little girls grow up, and that there would be a part of him that would never completely let her do so. She thought about it for a minute and then said, "But mothers like seeing their little girls grow up. Why is that?"
I was afraid she had stumped me, and maybe my answer isn't right for her mother; I don't know her mother. But I told her that mothers are looking forward to their daughters becoming their friends. Daddies love taking care of their little girls. It's just different.
Part of me has always found some way for my daddy to still take care of me. It has been his advice that I turned to. His approval. His support. Even though I am fiercely independent by nature, I love the bond of Daddy and daughter. To him, being needed is the same thing as being loved, and I have been happy to oblige.
This Father's Day, I called my daddy to tell him that I love him. He is no longer able to offer advice. He is no longer able to be an ear for when things go wrong. Some days, he is no longer able to figure out which end of the phone to put to his mouth. I can hear him talking off in the distance somewhere, and I know he's got it either upside down or backwards again.
What he can still do though is invaluable. He can still love me. And he does. He can still ask how my family is. He can still ask how my dogs are. He can still tell me about his day and how is feeling about himself lately. And although the care taking has shifted from daddy to daughter, the relationship isn't really all that different. He is still my daddy. He is just my daddy who is sick.
They say that women often marry a man who is like their father. In my case, it is true. I see a lot of the qualities that I love about my dad in my husband. Guy is a lot sillier. He is more career driven. He is less interested in church. But there are very basic traits that the two of them share. I think it explains why I was drawn to him so very quickly and knew from the get go that when he said he wanted to be with me, that I needed to jump.
So today, as I sit incubating, I am so thankful to have had a daddy like mine. And I am thankful that my child will have a daddy like Guy.
If you like good music
There's a new review (by yours truly) up at Props and Pans. Just my thoughts on a little freebie called iConcertCal, an incredibly cool plug-in for iTunes.
Check it out if you have a second.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
I know you're still there
Dear Bird,
I know I haven't really talked much to you. It's not that I don't love you; it's that I'm still unsure that you are going to stick around. I would love for you to stick around you know.
You might like to know that your room is yellow. Lemon chiffon to be exact. It matches a quilt with rad bunnies on it that your Aunt Shelster made.
Next week we go back to the doctor. You will be 9 weeks old, and I'm going to make sure that little heart of yours is still beating. If it is, I'm going to breathe a little easier and sleep a little sounder.
I want to thank you though for all the nausea and need for naps. Your dad says that you are kicking my ass. He isn't wrong. For that, I thank you. Because I really do love having you here. I love being pregnant with you, and every time I catch some zzzzzz's, I wake up glad that I still needed them.
Love,
Momma Bird
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Arlington
I am by my family's standards, the raging liberal of the bunch. Feed the poor, help the children, give everyone health care, and war is bad. You know, all the typical blue voting mantras.
That last one though, war is bad, is a touchy thing to say. There are a lot of people in this country who have been to war, and they deserve our thanks and our praise.
By no means do I consider myself one to speak on political issues. As much as I don't like George Bush, I respect the opinion of those people who do. Chocolate and vanilla. That's what this country is about. Really, I just wish that he wasn't sending Americans to Iraq and bringing them home in caskets.
There lies the problem though. I struggle with the loathing I have for this current war and the admiration and gratitude that I have for the people who have gone to fight it. It is difficult to resolve, but important to me because my family has a strong military history.
My great uncle was a Coronal in the United States Army. He served through WWII, Korea, and Vietnam. His four Purple Hearts sat in a glass case on the bookshelf behind his recliner, just above his shoulder as though they were at watch over him constantly. His stories could have easily starred John Wayne. When he died 15 years ago, he was laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetary.
Today, his wife finally joined him. Aunt Pam died on May 20. She was cremated, and her ashes have been buried with her husband. On one side of the tombstone is etched his name, rank, the wars he served during, and dates of his life and death. On the other side will be "His wife," her name, and the dates of her life and death.
Aunt Pam's service was modest. There were soldiers to carry her ashes from the car to the grave and another to stand watch as he did so. The soldier that led the service spoke of a passage from Proverbs where God says he loves someone who protects innocent blood. We sang a song. We cried. We touched her urn. And as we were preparing to leave her, we heard the drums.
Just across the way, there was another funeral beginning. This funeral had the honor guard, the drums and bugles, and the flag draped casket was being drawn to the grave by horses. We could see row after row of soldiers in their dress uniforms, standing at attention for the soldier they were about to bury.
I wondered if this was a young soldier who had been serving in Iraq or if it was an older retired soldier who had served in Korea or maybe Vietnam. I wondered if there was a widow or a widower standing there. I wondered if that soldier knew before he died that his sacrifice, whether it be his life, or just the dedication of his life, was appreciated.
As we were leaving, my cousin who lives in D.C. and was also career Army said, "This place has gotten way too busy these days. There are so many funerals everyday."
And the mixed feelings returned. Grief at the losses. Anger at the reasons why. Gratitude for the sacrifices.
There was a post this week that started me thinking about this even before today. You should go over and read it. Watch the video. If you know someone who has served this country, be it now, in the previous Gulf War, in Vietnam, Korea, WWII, or any other time, stop and watch it for them. And if you still have the chance, tell them thank you.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Little Blobby
So here's the little one. We found him, a right ovary, and not much else. I'm assuming I have a left one, but they never can seem to find it on an ultrasound. Strange.
He looks a little bit like a bird I think. But man, he's cute.
7w4d
Today we have a heartbeat. 160. Things look good today. Maybe I'll post a picture later. Really though, it looks like a gray blobby labeled, "baby."
Why do I still think it's cute?
Monday, June 11, 2007
A new level of hell is needed
Some people are beyond evil. Beyond what hell could punish. Beyond any concept of the world being inherently good.
My grandfather died in 2003. When he died, my father was still doing alright. He had his wits about him most of the time, but had a hard time with using his hands. The Parkinson's was young. My father, being the eldest son and the lawyer, was in charge of Granddaddy's estate. He promptly went about seeing that it was properly closed and settled in the correct manner.
In order to do this, he hired a lawyer from his old firm to be the executor. This lawyer who we will call The Ass, was mentored by my father. My father trusted him, and expected him to do a good job. I think I've already given away the fact that he did not. Do a good job.
It was brought to our attention over the last week by the new lawyer that Daddy hired to try and make The Ass finish his job and close the estate, that The Ass in fact, closed the estate over a year ago in the Mississippi courts. Over a year ago, the estate was closed, and now the question is: Where is all of the money?
Since the time The Ass took the role of executor of my Granddaddy's estate, he left the law firm (or was fired, we don't know), got a nasty and messy divorce, and began drinking heavily. When Bro would call to talk to him, Ass would dump his personal problems on him instead. When Mom would call to talk to him, he would ignore the messages and not call back.
When Daddy would call to talk to him, he would sit up and take note that Daddy was not the man he used to be. And then, we are afraid that he took advantage of that information and extorted the money from my Granddaddy's estate. And if that in fact is what happened, I cannot think of a jail cell or a punishment that I think is fair for him. To take advantage of your mentor after he has developed a debilitating disease is pure evil.
One day when I was a teenager, Daddy and I were driving down the highway in my hometown. There was a billboard for an ambulance chaser, and I asked him if he knew that lawyer. He said yes, that he did know him. I asked Daddy if he had ever had a case with that lawyer since Daddy was a defense attorney for the insurance companies. He said yes, that he had cases with the personal injury lawyer whose face graced the back of telephone books, billboards, and every television ad from 2 AM until 7 AM. Daddy said that usually those cases get settled out of court. I couldn't help but ask about the unusual ones, that went to trial. Daddy said, "I kicked his ass."
Of course he did. It was the only time he came close to bragging to me. Ever.
Sunday afternoon, my momma and I talked for a long time about the situation at hand. My momma said, "It's not about the money." I disagree. Granddaddy worked hard in his life, and it was important to him that he left his family something. And quite frankly, with my parents' health issues, they are going to need all the money they can get I'm afraid. So, yes. Part of it is about the money.
I get what she is saying though. The anger isn't over the money. The anger is over the fact that 5 years ago, The Ass wouldn't have even considered crossing my father. When my father was at that law firm, he was viewed with complete respect both in and out of the courtroom. People knew him as a man with impeccable ethics, but who would indeed "kick ass" when needed.
It is only the new version of my daddy, Daddy with Parkinson's and Alzheimer's, that The Ass dared to cross. Dared to steal from. To cheat. To hurt. That makes me not only angry, but it also breaks my heart.
There will likely be no way to recover the money. There will likely be, however, a way to put this man in jail.
I hope that we are all wrong, and this is some giant misunderstanding.
I'm afraid though, that it isn't. I'm afraid my parents have been ripped off by someone they trusted.
It's completely disgusting.
Get on your bikes and ride
If you find any amusement in this photo whatsoever, you should hop over and visit Izzy today. Leave a caption for her photo that makes her wet her pants, and you win a prize.
As for this? Seems like it was World Naked Bike Ride Day this past weekend, and I missed it. Damn.
I would like to point out for the record though, that the dude in the back is totally not naked. He's wearing a scarf and a hat. Cheater.
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