Divorce and the Dénouement Or How I Became A Biker Chick

So I won’t mince words. It happened to me and it’s happened to many of you. I’m only mentioning this because avid readers of the haus will notice I’ll not write about him anymore—it turns out Angelface wasn’t really such an angel after all.

Shortly after I wrote this, Angel left me for a woman who—for 6 months prior—had opened her legs to him.

The affair destroyed me. In the face of heartbreak, I stopped writing and started starving myself of both sleep and sustenance so that I became, in every way, a mere fraction of who I’d been.

And then, when I had cried all I could, when my chest had heaved and convulsed it’s last for a man who didn’t deserve it—the labor of moving blood through my broken-but-still-beating heart having lessened—I started over.

I decided to find myself a new love.

And I found that love in a shiny pink bike.

Her name is Miss Piggy. She’s a Marin Portofino road bike. And baby, she’s the best.

Last October I purchased Piggy from a very handsome salesman (who is now my very handsome boyfriend!), and I have been riding ever since. It’s 6 months in and I’ve logged 700 miles of butt time on my bike.

Accordingly I’ve logged 700 miles worth of RECOVERY time from my riding bike for my butt. In cycling the actual physical aspect of peddling and perspiring is only about 50% of the sport. The other 50% is the constant exercise in protecting your tender vittles.

Hello, my name is Hänni and I’m a bike-aholic. I am not ashamed to admit it: I put butter in my shorts…

And I like it.

chamois butter

So you may be wondering, why the hell am I riding so much? The short answer is, I’m insane. The long answer is, I’m training for the BP MS 150, a 170+ mile bike from Houston to Austin on April 12-13. This ride benefits the National Multiple Sclerosis (MS) Society Lone Star Chapter which serves more than 17,000 Texans affected by MS, an unpredictable, disabling disease of the central nervous system.

In the time leading up the ride, I’ll be blogging here about my training experiences. As we take this trip down memory lane together, I hope you enjoy the tales of triumph, tribulation, and unabashed use of padded shorts and crotch cream.

Piggy1
Til next,

xoxoh

8 comments

March 25, 2008

Welp My Sister Shoved a Watermelon Out Of Her Hoo Hoo Today

But actually it wasn’t a watermelon. It was a baby!

My sweetie-pie niece, Baby Grace was born this morning, weighing 9lbs 6ozs.

What’s cool about all this—besides the fact she looks like a little squished grape and I am all about organic raisins—is that I intuitively knew today would be Gracie’s birthday.

I knew this because I dreamed it.

Sometimes I think I’m psychic. Last night I had a very vivid dream I was at the hospital with Spanky. She was in labor with Gracie.

And then when I awoke—not 5 minutes after my cats’ lodging of claw up my left nostril roused me from bed—I got a call from Sis. She was in the delivery room and it was time to push.

Seriously, Miss Cleo has nothing on me.

So one time I had this dream where I was on a date with John Mayer. He sang for me, and while he performed he made that real ugly face he does; the one where it looks like dude just ate a pound of queso and is in excruciating pain. I find that face incredibly hot. Blown away by both his vocal and physical performance I was like, J-May you’re the shit. And John was like, no H-Wick you’re the shit. And I was like, oh please J Babe you are the total shit. And then JMan was like, Hanni you are the kraft macaroni and cheese of shit—you are the shittiest! And I was like, true. And then he sang some more crap and I swooned while he made Frankenface. And we rode off into the sunset together and ate Tex Mex (so John could make more fuel for The Face.)

I’m still waiting for this particular dream to come true.

In any event, I want to wish Baby Grace a happy birthday. I love you very much little one and I’m sorry I tainted your “welcome to the world” announcement with talk of shit. But if there’s one thing you need to know about Auntie, it’s that when it comes to shit, she is full of it.

Here’s hoping the next time you’re photographed looking so mottled and splotched, it’s at a keg party and you’re in college.

xoxoAuntie

2 comments

March 17, 2008

Hello My Little Leprechauns

Today I’m wearing a brown dress.

I never wear green on Saint Patrick’s Day, partly because I’m not Irish … but mostly because I have a pinching fetish.

Enjoy your green beers and frosted lucky charms,

xoxoh

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Do you twitter? I do. I want to stalk follow you, so get on board with this. Need more info? Twitter in plain english here.

7 comments

March 2, 2008

Fine Erin. You Win. I’m Freaking Blogging!

Erin Cooks has been on my ass for ages to update this blog. Unsuccesful at more conventional means re: whining, begging and pleading, that tricky b- has tagged me.Without further ado I present a hannihaus meme (dedicated to the evil Erin Cooks):5 Things You Never Knew About Hänni (And Probably Never Cared To)

Although my nickname is Hannibear, if I was reincarnated, I would want to come back as a house cat. They are cool.
I love the name Clementine but think it might be too old fashioned for a baby. Momo, which means “peach” in Japanese is modern an still adorable. I told my sis she should name her newborn Momo but she told me she wouldn’t because in English, it’s slang for “homo.” Apparently I have a thing for fruits.
I cut my hair last fall because people kept saying I looked like Ugly Betty. Now I just look like a bitch.
Last week I got my first-ever traffic ticket. I was pretty disappointed. Not so much because it cost me $295 and 2 points on my license, but because when I turned on the water works hoping to evade the ticket, the cop blinked twice and walked away. Apparently crocodile tears don’t work on pigs. Bummer.
Duing WWII my German-Jewish family converted to Catholicism and escaped to the US where they adopted an American-friendly surname, Horn. Our original family name was Von Dietrich. In Europe names with “von” in them denote royalty. This confirms my suspicion that I am not a garden-variety pain in the ass, but rather a ROYAL pain the in the ass. All hail the queen.

queen I had to get up at 5 am to find time to write this (thanks again Erin Cooks!) It’s only fair i pass on the torture fun. Leigh, CZE, Kerrianne, MRTL, and Amber you’re it!