Rich Mind

Word of the Week

fris⋅son

NOUN /-ˈsõʊ̃z; Fr. -ˈsɔ̃/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [free-sohn; Fr. free-sawn-sohnz; Fr. -sawn]
. a sudden, passing sensation of excitement; a shudder of emotion; thrill.

Use: Seeing the man streak through the streets gave me a slight frisson that cascaded through my body. Thank you streaking man!


I first saw the word frisson used in an Anais Nin diary.

It's from the vintage French word, shiver (friçons). Oh that naughty Anais. She is well known for her tryst with Henry Miller's wife June (as well as a life long affair with provacauter Miller), however what's less known is that she wrote about some naughty with her father as an adult (I believe it was slight surrealist fantasy with the seeds of flirtatious truth). She was also legally married to two men (one on each coast, and one far younger than her) who never found out about each other until after her passing.

She often cited Djuna Barnes as a literary inspiration, when I was in NY last (best town for used books in the world) I picked up one of Djuna's books and can't wait to get my nose in it. In fact, I named my first jewelry collection "Djuna."

Monday Detox-sicle

Manic Mondays Post Debauchery Detox-sicle

"Pucker Up Parsley"

Juice 2 lemons
a handful of parsley

Juice, then immediately sling back. Hope to forget the barrels of naughty you committed the weekend previous.

Parsley is chock full of B vitamin (good for hangovers and energy replenishment), it contains three times as much vitamin C as oranges, and twice as much iron as spinach, Parsley contains volatile oils that have been found to inhibit tumor formation in animal studies, particularly those in the lungs (smokers, pars-it-up), Lemon juice is a great liver tonic, Ph balancer and a great potent aid to detoxing.

Going out on the lemon note, here's one of my fav poems.

Ode To The Lemon by Pablo Neruda

Out of lemon flowers
loosed
on the moonlight, love's
lashed and insatiable
essences,
sodden with fragrance,
the lemon tree's yellow
emerges,
the lemons
move down
from the tree's planetarium

Delicate merchandise!
The harbors are big with it-
bazaars
for the light and the
barbarous gold.
We open
the halves
of a miracle,
and a clotting of acids
brims
into the starry
divisions:
creation's
original juices,
irreducible, changeless,
alive:
so the freshness lives on
in a lemon,
in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,
the proportions, arcane and acerb.

Cutting the lemon
the knife
leaves a little cathedral:
alcoves unguessed by the eye
that open acidulous glass
to the light; topazes
riding the droplets,
altars,
aromatic facades.

So, while the hand
holds the cut of the lemon,
half a world
on a trencher,
the gold of the universe
wells
to your touch:
a cup yellow
with miracles,
a breast and a nipple
perfuming the earth;
a flashing made fruitage,
the diminutive fire of a planet.

Burly

A big, burly samurai comes to a Zen master and says, “Tell me the nature of heaven and hell.”

The Zen master looks him in the face and says, “Why should I tell a scruffy, disgusting, miserable slob like you? A worm like you, do you think I should tell you anything?”

Consumed by rage, the samurai draws his sword and raises it to cut off the master’s head.

The Zen master says, “That’s hell.”

Instantly, the samurai understands that he has created his own hell—black and hot, filled with hatred, self-protection, anger, and resentment. He sees that he was so deep in hell that he was ready to kill someone. Tears fill his eyes as he puts his palms together to bow in gratitude for this insight.

The Zen master says, “That’s heaven.”

~ Pema Chodron, Comfortable with Uncertainty:108 Teachings

for free audio zen teachings go here! you can also find on itunes
http://www.zencast.org/

We Love Mondays

Forgiveness is giving up all hope for a better past.

Stay tuned for the Monday detox-sicle and a new sketch of a devil in converse and a unitard. It had to happen. :*)

xo-Mo

Gogs

So the problem with having an 83 year old friend is that when she goes missing, incommunicado for a day or so, chances are she's landed back in the hospital. This is unlike my other friends who when I'm craving for a catch up and they have gone missing, usually meaning they are inconsolably hungover or camped out in a cave of love with a new captive.

Jacque, my "adopted grandma slash senior friend" has become a member of my inner circle. And that has nothing to do with the fact that she's a mean cook who loves to feed me. Sometimes her spirit is younger than mine and yet she's also an anchor as am I somehow to her. The kindest moment ever was when this road rager was about to go anger-epileptic on me because my car was blocking a driveway (selfishly sure, yeah sometimes I do think the world can pause button a mo' for me), yet as he was in mid-tirade about my life-threatening selfishness, she sweetly interrupted, unafraid of his lashing aggression, looked in his eyes and said, "she is the most unselfish woman you could ever know."

I'm sure there are compliments others pay me, unfortunately landing on sometimes def ears incapable of receiving compliments with grace, but that sweet arrow struck. And it melted a better part of the tough girl stuff in my heart. :*)

83 or 29, we live of borrowed time, tumbling towards our mysterious best by date. I'm not going to start a carpe diem pep session, I'm just saying, suck the plump nectar now. And be kind. To you and others. Some days we have the momentum to better the world and some days we are only able to better the day of another. This is enough. Start there.

Let's Take a Banking Moment

So let's get this straight. Regulators are paid by the people they are meant to regulate (OTS "regulating" AIG). That is simply amazing. And the Standard and Poor, the rating agency, gave AIG their highest rating of AAA deeming it an incredibly safe, recommendable investment.

A full, and actually edible, radio story on Ira Glass's This American Life on NPR is available. Episode link below.








http://www.thisamericanlife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?episode=382

Wild Card Boxing Club

I went to the club a little later when they have boxers in the ring going rounds. I saw a female fight. One of them had the best smile, she's a force. Incredible. I'd love to fight her. She'd pummel me. One of the trainers asked if I wanted to do a round, he was either messing with me or overestimating me. By a lot. Those women have been doing it for 3 yrs, myself, 2 mo.

What I love about Manny Pacquaio is in his fight against Patton, he had a big, beaming smile on his face. For the biggest fights of our life, it pays to pack a smile. What is life worth otherwise?

xo mo

Morning Whack

On my way into the studio this morning while stopped at a red light, the man in the van next to me was staring at me. I glance again. More hard, direct, unflinching stare. And I notice. A little extra saucy action. I think the crack was mid-whack. I was not whack worthy this morning, in boxing clothes with my layered rain gear (one prepared Los Angelino here). What is slightly sicker than the whack job starer ... as I looked straight ahead in a faux-ignore, I started to smile, then laugh and sorta enjoy the diabolical discomfort of it. So who is sicker in this example? :*)

Have a damn happy Friday thoughtsicles!


Stay tuned for Mondays detox-sicle.

I like the way you wear that smile

Even as we think of ourselves as defiant individuals, we are a community (of individuals), sardined in together in cities, complexes, as neighbors. We effect each other. When someone smiles to me, or a friend inspires me with potent hope, I am lifted. That stranger with the smile may not see the effect, but the next person that gets the nicer version of me will.

Living in Hallways

Only five minutes into boxing and I felt great. It's just the getting there. It's the devil on the shoulder whispering incessantly about better things to do, now it's too late, maybe tomorrow, it's too long a walk to get there (a block away).

At boxing there's this peculiar thing about the raw, sweaty testosterone wafting loosely from every man there. It's always slightly intimidating and also very magnetic.

In the Garden of Good and Evil

Habits are amazing. If I take a mere few days off from my good habit (boxing in the mornings) then suddenly going back feels Sisyphean. Mountainous terrain. Treacherously uphill. Incredibly, gargantuanly, effen difficult. However, indulging my face full of fine cheese, red wine and laxing off is an easy oops.

Habits.

Bad. Good. I'm the one standing with the angel and the devil dancing on my shoulders, whispering sweet nothings in my ears.

It's like a garden of good and evil, flowers and weeds. Whatever we water grows. What do I want to water today?



Here's an article on habits. :*) More on this topic later. Always.

http://www.latimes.com/features/health/la-he-breakinghabits6-2009apr06,0,2419265.story

God Love the Snooze Button

How many times did I rock the snooze button this morning?

10.

From 6.30a.m. until a very long time. :) whose fault is it? The event last night. (A design heavy, elegant but spunky event by Opportunity Green, catered with organic burgers, dark chocolate devils, Veev cocktails - Veev cocktails have their hands on nearly ever event I go to in Los Angeles).

What happened to my incredibly new found "discipline" of last month? Boxing -all the time- at 7.30 a.m. ... biking to work the other days. I don't think that was discipline, I think it rarely ever is with me. It is momentum and sheer will. Discipline is something I'm still fairly unfamiliar with. We barely know each other.

There was a study about delayed gratification, the study showed that kids who were able to choose to wait five hours and get double the amount of cookies versus the stinkers who picked having the cookies immediately, showed advanced levels of success later on. They are certainly onto something and we here at Daily Thoughtsicle will explore it. This illusive thing called delaying gratification, this incredible concept called discipline, we'll get at the heart of whether its really beneficial and how the hell to make friends with them.

Down With The Meter Maids

We get it. The city (yours, mine, all of them) are out of paper money. Budget as dry as the Mohave. And to make up for it, they are compulsively ticketing every single hard working human around the clock like a looter hitting every five and dime before the po-po arrive. (Po-po always sounding funnier from a Caucasian).





How to calmly handle getting your dozenth parking ticket this week:

1. Create a mental "oh shit fund" and even better make a financial "oh shit fund," otherwise known as a "savings account." Mentally set aside a particular amount of money a year for these and all other not-on-my-agenda diabolical experiences so as not to upset you when they *do* happen, as they *always* will. Mentally you won't be saying, "well that wiped out my money for Bora Bora," no, you will say, "deduct a little from the 'oh shit' for the bad shit."

2. Consider it a donation to your city and all of it's much needed projects.

3. Practice a ten minute round of turrets street side. Enjoy the funny stares from all around. This alleviates far more stress than any previous suggestions.

4. Commit to fighting the ticket, then get too busy to fight it, but also forgetting to pay it, letting it double. Get the boot on your car and then commit to leaving the country for some small island where the only method of transportation is tricycle.

5. Swig back a xany with some whiskey. Boom. Problem? Gone.

so many pretty meter maids. so little time.


some ticket hard through any weather.










others ticket happy
with fashionable bouffant updo's. ladies. take note.

"The Classic"









"The Spastic"














"The Beauty Queen"









The "Tokyo Cutie Queen"










The "I Actually Went to School For This"









The "I am about to break out into a strip tease"










The "I just did"

post debaucherous detox-sicle

Time for Mondays "Post Debaucherous Detox-sicle!!


First, take a daring swig of unfiltered Apple Cider Vinegar
(contains sexy making minerals, vitamins, loaded with potassium with is good for healthy hair and strong nails, cider vinegar also helps break down fat)


"Mondays Normally Suck Juice"
to be used with a juicer, if you don't have one you can blend it with some ice. make it real nice.

""
4 carrots
3 apples
2 limes
1 lemons
a handful of romaine lettuce

juice 'em & drink.

apples- benefits the boobs and the butt~ a Cornell study found reduced risk of breast cancer, a Brazilian study found that women who ate three apples a day lost more weight while dieting.

carrots - help with night vision. good for Ninja Chicks everywhere (www.ninjachick.com)

limes - keep your sick days for the beach - the green puckers contain flavonoids called flavonol glycosides which have anti-biotic effects

lemons - loads of vita-c antioxidants that slay free radicals.

romaine - good source of fiber. and we do know what that means. :*)

Being in the Moment

It is often the case that whatever we are doing, be it sitting, walking, standing, or lying, the mind is frequently disengaged from the immediate reality and is instead absorbed in compulsive conceptualization about the future or past. While we are walking, we think about arriving, and when we arrive, we think about leaving. When we are eating, we think about the dishes and as we do the dishes, we think about watching television.

This is a weird way to run a mind. We are not connected with the present situation, but we are always thinking about something else. Too often we are consumed with anxiety and cravings, regrets about the past and anticipation for the future, completely missing the crisp simplicity of the moment.


~ B. Alan Wallace, Tibetan Buddhism from the Ground Up

fast
fast
fast. i move. so fast.
doing,
doing,
doing,
but rarely ever done.

and in those in-between moments where every punch feels thrown and my mind quiets, a tenderness sets in. that sweet, calm tender edge of life that touches us when we are really "here." after boxing last night, then running around the lake after, then boxing again at 7.30a.m. this morning; the spring inside unwound, until what was left, is what is real.

that razor thin edge of life.

the buddhist meditation master, trungpa rinpoche, in his book Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior calls it an inherent sweet sadness we constantly carry inside when we are awake and malleable to life.

my grandpa jack, whom i named my collection after, passed away a while ago yet towards the end of his life his parkinson's tarnished away at him. he was this cavalier, gentle, biting irish humoured world war two veteran. once getting out of the car, i had to hold him in my arms as he had to relieve himself just outside his house, not able to make it inside in time. it wasn't just the seeing of grandpa-junk that had me, it was the disintegration and grace of aging. the crumbling of a man who stood proud a lifetime for a family, having to lean upon a granddaughter as the embers in the fire faded.

oh petunias. a maudlin little love this morning for your friday. :*) have a lovely, tender day.

leach

Drinking from Plastic Bottles 'Increases Exposure to
Gender-Bending Chemical'

by Murray Wardrop

Scientists have demonstrated for the first time that polycarbonate
containers release the chemical bisphenol A (BPA) into liquid stored in
them.

BPA has been shown to interfere with reproductive development in animals
and has been linked with cardiovascular disease and diabetes in humans.





---------------------------------------------------------


so chilly lill' plastifiers ... this is the haps. i listened to a speaker the other day at mindshare (debaucherous enlightenment group in l-ay, cross pollinating incredible minds of many persuasions) and one speaker, david de rothschild, is building a sailboat entirely of plastic bottles and sailing from sf to sydney.

the amount of refuge dumped into the ocean has reached such a state that for every one plankton (billions of little organisms drifting the sea, i said organisms not orgasms you munchkin) for every one of these, there are SIX plastic bottles.

what's more, 40% of bottled water is simply regurgitated tap water. a cup of yum!


:*) ooo guess what else not on topic, a bit on me on smartmoney yesterday ...
momo link:: http://www.smsmallbiz.com/profiles/Stand_Out_Designer_Uses_Personal_Touch_To_Get_Handbags_in_Stores.html?cid=23

mindshare link:: http://www.mindshare.la/

plastiki boat link:: http://www.adventureecology.com/theplastiki/

plastic leaching article link:: <http://www.commondreams.org/headline/2009/05/22-0


have a g d.

yes. i am that girl.

i'm that girl that is in a mad dash to detox day after a long weekend of debauchery where the following bits of adventure may or may not of occurred :

nudity.

paying homage to closing time.

eggs benny.

random irreverence.

biking to the outdoor film at the hollywood forever cemetery with a bunch of goofball friends to watch dazed and confused among a picnic, some red, some sake and some special brownies.

making it home.

pancakes.

mimosa's in the park.

today i busted free the old juicer from the shards of tupperware past, reaching back to the darkest corners of the cabinet where small spidees have lived a shocking number of generations.

i made a lovely detox juice - it's called mo-pucky-fo-yo-nucky



3 lemons
3 tangerines
a handful of cilantro

(benefits: l-juice is potent with c, antioxies, random fact - it also helps with irritable bowel syndrome. cilantro prevents nausea, great detoxifier, solid source of phytonutrients, random fact - it also helps prevent flatulence. the mo-pucky-fo-yo-nucky tastes robust, sweet with zing.)

peel the citrus.
add everything.
drink.
don't clean your juicer for another week. see if you found the cure to cancer.
feel better about your treacherous debauchery of high caloric proportions. hope for amnesia. move on to wednesday. boom! we are already at hump day.

cheers -mo

dive bar + guy friends + me = hangover (everytime)

biking into to my studio this morning i was greeting by a bold sight, a man breaking into a car.

he had panache this one! while slim-jimmin' his way in he put his coffee on the top of the car, casual cool, all the time in the world in his bones.

amusing. it was either his car or he is one confident grand theft auto.er.

Audaces fortuna iuvat - Fortune favors the bold.

boxing

on way back from boxing a very malodorous man pushing a cart saw my hand wraps and gloves and out of what looked like a walking coma he piped in, "didn't you love manny's hook that knocked out hatton?" j'adore my hood.


-word of the day -
malodorous :: adjective; having an unpleasant or offensive odor; smelling bad

speaking of rotten tomatoes - taliny in the studio said we should throw them at each other. one of the best stress relievers documented. nach! love it - get a big group, go to a park, throw tomatoes at each other. call it "the rotten tomato." i.am.in.

translucent ducks nipping on my toes

if we are going to get to know each other, than i have to give a full disclosure ... i've been crabby since thursday. i tried everything to unfunk myself - time with adopted gramma, secret chinese massage spot, boozy-time with friends - nothing seemed to uncoil me.

until this morning. i had such strange dreams, btw, one about a translucent white duck attacking my feet. anyway, this mornings bike ride turned me back to happy. (finally).

it was like when i was little, during the spare holiday my parents forced us to go to church, my only enjoyment was collecting "peace-be-with-you's." i always wanted to get the most "peaces" when it came time to shake hands with all those around. i thought of that this morning as i rode, collecting morning hello's like coins in the basket. each hello was like a shot of happy in the arm. the tender pulsating hand of the older man bending to pick up the air, his surprise that someone stopped to say hello and ask how he was. the black man asking about my ride this morning, the shock on the young asian guys face as i said good morning. LA - not always a city that speaks. hello's like quick polaroids, bright spots for the mind. the coolest uppers in life happen to be free.

granted, i'm sure every time i bike to work i won't be so perky. sometimes i will just peddle to the metal and transit like a normal human. but today was nice.

so, now. next if i dare be so brave. we will discuss what caused the crabby. and then we may discuss an intimate social experiment we may conduct for your amusement at my expense.
*stay.tuned*

l2u

#102 theory on life

#102 theory on life.
everything really is better after a tuna melt and malted milkshake.
shaka-shaka.

pop of pepper

i so crabby!

and i don't know why. what adds sauce to the crabby is the sense that i "should" be grateful for the huge list of awesome that is this sunshined life. never-the-less i have a case of the mondays. went to adopted grandma jacque's for a quick lunch, she fed me fruit and an edible flower. it tasted fragrant with a hot pop of pepper.

a quote from a poem she read, "is the silence strong enough To carry back the music to its source"is the silence strong enough to carry back the music to its source."

xo-mo

in fairbank (a small town in alaska), it is a dry town ... for moose that is. it's illegal to feed a moose any alcoholic beverage. what, not even a little spritzer?

i just love the thought that enough hooligans were saucing up their local antlered pals to get this on the books.

also fun to note the absolute sophistication that continually comes from alaska. a marvel that palin was even on the bill. i can imagine that nomination brainstorm - "look what momentum they got outta hillary. we need ourselves a woman. who loves guns. and is dumb enough to do exactly as we say. yeah. like bush in a skirt." pow! palin it is.

-road warrior-

-road warrior-

while riding my bike home from work at night i realized a few things.

a. i'm a touch delusional.

b. Lost Angeles - she's a fragmented little lady.

c. the last hill to my pad is incorrigible. evil. the devil dressed in asphalt.

a small dose of delusion is a good thing. look at any beautiful down syndrome kid, despite a sisyphean life of ridicule and virginity that happy wonder has a big, gorgeous smile slobbered onto his face. first time riding my bike, i was slightly like this kid. i felt like i was rocky on a run, everyone i passed seemed to be cheering me on. big hello's, waves. it was like they all knew this was a major first for me, and all of los angeles was behind me.

which brings me to B). Los Angeles lives up to all her rumors. she's a fragmented little lady with a shiny, preening exterior and a brooding, obsidian interior. we transport around in our little moving auto-bubbles, untouched by the profanity someone nearby is belting out, or the curious glances, funny smells, and any other communal details one would be ensconced in if you were in, let's say, new york or almost any european walking city.

in a small community you don't scream at ned for cutting you off, because ned is your boyfriends second cousin who also is your butcher and will cut you a chuck steak and charge you for a tenderloin if you are an a-hole. in a real community, there's a natural flow of accountability. here in this big, meandering city, we are "the constant anonymous." and as a dutiful member of the constant anonymous i am a honking, full fisted speeding off-er with a cursing case of turrets.

taking me out of my bubble-mobile was like pulling back a thick muslin veil from my eyes. street bound by bike, i saw life like it was the first. the deep smiling crevices on a weathered face, the plump smell of clean from a churning laundry mat, a nurse walking gingerly on stiff feet wishing me a safe ride, a man who looked like he could really use his sandwich offering me a bite; it was like fragmented shards of life, scattered about for the eye to reassemble.

honestly, it touched me. until i was two breathes from collapse and i realized the entire last stretch home was entirely hill. and then a long drive way. and then stairs to climb with heavy leaden bike. i wanted to call a little bubble cab to rescue me. :*) i made it home, collapsed, nibbled dinner, looking out my fishbowl to a bounty of tree's thinking (warning pollyannic moment about to drop) about how grateful i am.

more later gaters. betchya wonder about more personal deets right - enough about the bike already, yeah? like get to the love slash sex life. am i really catapulting towards the ladies lips? naaa. i love the y chromes too much. but i so do like to get my macho on. why on earth is that? soon to explore these questions and more of the love-sex-bike-boxing variety.

pretty pretty

really? and truly? we get a lot of product requests at the studio, but this request below is mint. ... because i'm supposed to help you buy beauty dresses? how bout helping you buy an education, or a clue. that, i can get behind.

(and if you want to get behind a good group - coach at a local school.) NFTE's Mission: To provide entrepreneurship education to young people from low-income communities. i went recently to judge final presentations and the first presenters business was hip fabric handbags. i got all choked up. i was running straight from a crazy day at work where i question everything, feeling spread way too thin. but that just grounded me. she later came by the studio and i coached her more for her biz. :*)

-daffy email request------

Hi, I am writing to introduce myself, my name is Lexi Marie. I am trying to represent michigan in the Miss Michigan USA Pageant. I am looking for sponsors who would be interested in helping me. ....

I am looking to raise $2000 for the Miss Michigan USA Pageant, the money would be for Evening Gown, Swimsuit, Opening Production number, Shoes, and personal interview attire and also a pageant coach who would be able to help me and for my room. I am looking for small donations, not alot.

I would really appericate it if you get back to me, at the above email. thanks.

　

Sincerely,

Lexi Marie

Miss Michigan USA contestant.

----------------------------------------------

dear miss michigan,

i really sympathize. i need a new dress too! however, when i donate money, the things i consider as slightly higher on the list than new shoes ....

giving to greenpeace to ensure the continuation of our species http://www.greenpeace.org/

or

helping the women's bean project of denver - helping women break the cycle of poverty and unemployment, that teaches job skills and employs women in their gourmet food production business http://www.womensbeanproject.com/

or

the UN's girls' education http://www.ungei.org/

or

my friend tiffany's (ninja chick) agency she founded - Shine On Sierra Leone that is building schools and making sure students have at least one meal at day http://www.shineonsierraleone.org/

xo-mo

road to lesbianism.

so dig this, all the sudden i'm practicing to become a lesbian. (those who know me may find that amusing, those who don't i'm sure are deeply offended. which is a strong way to start to a new blog. offend right off the bat. then surprise you with a nice tickle pink later).

so why the road to dikedom? (again, offended) let's take me, i don't have a good self perspective, but through someone elses eyes i can imagine i am a person in fashion (because i am), that runs around town to a variety of ponyshow events and etc dolled up; that i may be more concerned with the seasons new accessory than spitting blood. now, throw that girl in a blender, add a mountain bike, some tools, and boxing gloves.

i started biking to the studio (let's all take bets on how long that'll last) and started boxing.

why? because my previous gym, 24hr fitness, lied nefariously about my "lifetime" gym membership that i paid GADS OF money upfront for - (lifetime apparently in this case meant TWO ENTIRE YEARS wow) - so i set out looking for a new cardio adventure.

there's a boxing gym a block from my studio. and by boxing gym i don't mean a cutey poo yoga slash pilates studio that has a kickboxing classes on tuesdays. i mean a dirty teardown with two rings, a bunch of bags, sweat infused air generated by teams of men accustomed to beating on things repeatedly. nach! right.at.home. later i find out this also just happens to be an infamous gym, owned by freddie roach and the home gym of the world champ manny pacquiao. goodness. freddie roach is the coolest. he's so genuine. it's awesome. and gets me up early. since i own my own business sometimes i roll in circa 10.30a.m., now i'm up at 6.30a.m. that's called a revolution.

but that wasn't enough. i've been mulling over the idea of biking to work for a while. LA is *not* an ideal bike around city. it's *not* an ideal public transport city either. it's notoriously auto-bound. (see the film Chinatown as per why. those dirty douchebags).

i'd been too chicken to bike, fretting over becoming the next fresh road kill. sunday i was going to buy a bike regardless, but my adopted grandma Jacque insisted i take her's that's been dust collecting for years (more on her later, she's a tall glass of riot). this bike is a clunker, but i road it 6.30am. on monday to boxing then work. on the way home (cherry on chick on chick top) i stopped by the bicycle kitchen for ladies night. the bicycle kitchen is this awesome LA non profit where (donation basis) you can stop in and learn to fix your own bike. they have loads of tools and volunteer teachers etc. and it was ladies and transgender only night. i changed my own cables, tuned the brakes and generally acted tough and stupid (not so good at it yet), leaving with elbow grease, and a stink that can only be described as teenage footballer, post game.

:*) gross yet? naaa, not you!

so. let's all take bets on how long this biking to work concept will hold - the winner will get to choose between a belt from the collection (see www.thejackrabbitcollection.com, or see us on www.shopbop.com, www.bloomingdales.com) or you can have my book Ninja Chick sent to you.
doubters beware, you will only be the fuel i'll feed on to keep going. so bet up darlings, mama wants to loose a few.

xo-mo



Mollie vs. Manny