ah, f*ck that noise and other tales of being, like, totally gangsta and stuff

I totally had something funny and clever lined up for today, but then I took an unemployment nap and completely forgot what it was. All I know is that it referenced Philip Roth's Portnoy's Complaint and the part where Alex and "The Monkey" are driving through upstate New York and she turns off the radio and says, "Ah, f*ck that noise," like a gangsta, except that this book was written in 1969 or something, so it's probably not that gangsta. But whatever. I have no idea what that was supposed to be a sequitur to because what I really want to complain about is the fact that there isn't a bike lane on the crucial uphills between U Street and Columbia Heights on either 18th, 16th or 14th Streets.

Instead, DC chose to install not one, but TWO on 15th Street, which just so happens to be the steepest and most "ess"-curved (not to be confused with "ass"-curved) hill that nary-a-velocipeder would ever choose to ride up casually, say, when coming home from a night of sippin' on some sizzurp, which is the gangsta way of saying, "Enjoying some tip-top libations at Commissary."

I say, F*CK THAT NOISE. I mean, what was the city council thinking? Well, I mean while they weren't going on coke benders, embezzling tax dollars or accepting bribes. Or do they never take a break from that? Which I guess would explain why they accidentally painted two bike lanes on one barely bikeable stretch of road. Actually, come to think of it, that's pretty gangsta. Indeed, totally illogical, but very, very gangsta. However, I'll one-up that gangsta-ness by once again referencing an old, skinny, Jewish writer and counterpoint with, "F*CK THAT NOISE!" and "GIVE ME A WORKABLE BIKE LANE FOR MY FOOT CYCLE!" Yup. One hundred percent hardcore gangsta.

Ahem. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go find an ice cube to add to my tea. Word to all of your mothers and/or legal guardians.