6/28/17: El queso es viejo y mohoso donde está el baño
The important stuff: (Serious Mode Activated) I've never been married, I don't have kids and I can't have any, I've got a good job, I don't live in my mother's basement, I've never been arrested, I'm not wanted by the IRS, I've never had a RO filed against me, I've never been on a 5150 hold, I've got decent credit, I don't have any debt, I am actually exactly 72 inches tall in my bare feet, I own a reliable form of vehicular transportation, I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't have any addiction issues, I get regular exercise, I do not have any personality disorders, I have a fully functional brain, cool hobbies, and my dick works but I'm not going to send you a photo of it if we start texting. (Serious Mode Deactivated)
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When I'm not banging on a keyboard I'm hurling myself around a race track at lurid triple-digit speeds in the cockpit of a Formula 1 Sidecar in front of huge crowds hoping to win a 10 dollar plastic trophy and maybe some fame or glory. The type of road racing I do is very obscure here in the US, huge all over Europe/UK. It's the fixie-pedaling PBR-swilling hipster of modern motorsport.
Here's a video sample of Formula 1 Sidecar racing. If you think it looks like fun, you should -really- send me a message
The racing career has its perks. I was on Spike TV teaching Jesse James how to drive F1 Superside, and not many people can say they were a featured expert on an episode of Mythbusters ripping down the Alameda runway at 180 miles per hour.
No, seriously... I was on Mythbusters, here's a link to the video.
Yeah, people tend to put that in their profile a lot. But no... Seriously. I'll floor you. I'll twist your universe inside out. I'll redefine your perception of dark and bent humor. Usually being within auditory range around me is akin to being hit in the face with a cricket bat at random intervals.
I grew up in a family that required thinking on your feet, the inability to never let slip with a straight line, and a lightning rapier wit forged like white-hot Damascus steel by years of parental and sibling sparring. I have a wide array of surgically sharp verbal razors at the ready in my quiver.
I'm not one of those people who's constantly 'on', but let a straight line slip around me and usually I can't help myself. I like to smile and laugh.
I'm mechanically adept. Nothing in my home is broken or ever in any state of disrepair. I perform all the service on my vehicles because I enjoy doing so. Check your oil for you? I'll rebuild your transmission in a weekend.
And I love designing and fabricating things. Give me a grinder, a welder, chop saw, and materials, tell me what you want and what you would like it to do... A few hours later you will have form functional art for your home.
Speaking and writing... Women as a rule have always been pleasantly surprised upon experiencing the overall length and breadth of my diction.
I can dance... It's weird, but I can dance well, I don't know where I get that gene. For some reason I have a DNA encoded sense of rhythm.
Sit on the opposite side of a Scrabble board from me and I will fuck your world up.
I actually don't get out to clubs, concerts, or shows as much as I used to. But I'm no stranger to Deathguild, BaGG, The Box, Meat, or Bootie at the DNA. I still like to go visit now and then and remember my industrial roots with a night of dancing.
I do love things like the Tech Museum, the Steinheart, Exploratorium, the Body Worlds exhibits when they come around.
Music, well... I'm all over the board there. I was an old school rivethead for a number of years, so I can have some obscure tastes. But I do tend to listen to a little bit of anything and everything these days. I can go from Jimmy Luxury to Covenant to Too Short to Led Zeppelin to Assemblage 23 to the Tom Tom Club to Mac Dre to VNV Nation without so much as a facial tic.
~ Motorcycles, bicycles, and roadracing, I love mastering speed. It's in my soul.
~ My rollerskates. No matter how bad the day, a couple hours on my quads and all is right in the world.
~ Quiet time. At least once a day, some nice peace and quiet to myself to de-stress. Lately it's been during the bicycle commute to/from work.
~ My job(s). It pays the bills, and covers the costs of my hobbies.
~ An eclectic collection of music to suit all moods...
How profanity is the crutch of inarticulate motherfuckers...
All these women who want a 'partner in crime' but the second you huck a lit molotov cocktail through the windshield of a cop car they're all, "What the fuck are you doing?!" and "It's just an expression!" Where's the truth in advertising?
How nearly every woman on here lists that she is looking for a man who is outdoorsy, adventurous, and can make her laugh. Extrapolating that logic the dream date for a majority of the women on this system is a Rodeo Clown...
Note: If you're keeping track that's my second reference to Rodeo Clowns in this profile.
Why people put a statement like, "I like to live, laugh, and love." in their profiles? As if someone is going to read that and think, "Nah, all that shit sucks."
If it's neither of those two I'm rolling along on my fatbike in the uncontrolled chaos that is a San Jose Bike Party ride.
If it's not a SJBP night I'm probably up at the Church of Eight Wheels in San Francisco rollerskating at Disco Night.
And if it's none of the above I'm at home relaxing with the cat, listening to music, and catching up on what's going on in the world while aimlessly flipping through dating profiles on here.
I don't have any pants on, and the AC in this Starbucks is cranked up way too high.
A woman I met for coffee recently told me that men lie about their height so much that she's started carrying a tape measure in her purse. I found that hilarious.
I like to replace all the lightbulbs in my bathroom with red ones, throw the stopper in the bathtub, turn on the shower, and pretend I'm in a submarine that's been hit by a torpedo.
The user experience here is about as clinical and detached as when I'm shopping online for tools. "Gee, she's nice, comes in SAE, free overnight shipping, but I wonder if I can get her with a rubberized grip."
Or the idea of a man that may suddenly just start into a disturbingly-accurate Buffalo-Bill-Silence-of-the-Lambs impersonation with no provocation or apparent set up at all while staring off blankly into space makes you giggle a little...
You've never quietly reflected on life while going really Really REALLY fast in a high performance vehicle on a race track.
I'm not cookie-cutter, your friends will notice that right off the bat. But they'll be jealous because I sure am a hell of a lot of fun.
Oh, and... Some of you women obviously do not have access to Google Maps. No I do not want to meet you for coffee if that requires one of us driving 130 miles one way. Hell, I wouldn't even drive that far for a date if your invitation came on gold leaf parchment and clearly stated "Coffee and great sex right on the barista counter." Please, google where Santa Clara, CA is before you send me an invitation for a date in North Fucking Boondocks, CA. My maximum dating range is ~ Oakland / San Francisco / Santa Cruz.
Please only message me if... you actually want to meet in the real world. Yes I know that's highly demanding and unrealistic of me to think that women on a dating website who send me messages might actually want to meet in the near future. It's ludicrous of course. But at my age dating has turned into, "We going to do this? I've got shit to do..."