Nicholi Rogatkin. Living the Dream

Nicholi Rogatkin. Living the Dream

Look at that guy. He’s got it made. Nicholi Rogatkin is living the dream. He’s riding a bicycle for money.

Look at you, slaving away in your cubicle. You’re not riding a bicycle for money. You’re actually working. Well, not so much when you first get in. I know, traffic was pretty bad, and your iPhone alarm clock didn’t go off because you forgot to recharge it. Again. And even though you’re fashionably late, you gotta hit the break room. All the donuts will be scarfed in the first half hour, you just know it. Then you’ve got to hit the head, let’s be reasonable. And there’s no use pooping on your own time, so you’ve got to leave enough time for the entire sports section, with two courtesy flushes.

But I know you’re going to hit the ground running at 10, believe you me. You just have to check your social media sites. And those Tumblr feeds. And you know you have to watch the end of last night’s Game of Hard Throne Knocks you’ve torrented. You would have watched them on your own time, but your phone went dead, remember? Otherwise you won’t know what everyone in the break room is talking about at lunch. You’ll be out of the loop. That’s bad. It’s not collegial.

Speaking of lunch, since it’s 11:15 now, and you don’t want to start anything major until you can give it your undivided attention. You’re like that. Thoughtful. Passionate. So it’s only right that you go out and talk to the receptionist in the lobby until 11:45. You wouldn’t want to be seen in the break room before then. People would think you were slacking.

Oh yes, I almost forgot. Look at that guy on the bicycle. He’s living the dream. That ain’t working. That’s the way you do it.

[Thanks to faithful friend Johnny Glendale for sending that one along]

5 thoughts on “Nicholi Rogatkin. Living the Dream

  1. Ahem. I knew a guy who was paid for riding his bike, once. Never mind that there was a bag of newspapers across the handle bar.

    In my day, sonny, extreme sports were accomplished without a GoPro. We learned that helmets weren’t for mounting the camera onto; they were for for protecting your skull.

    We had to do a thing you cannot imagine doing now, sonny boy. We had to tell: the story. I s–t you not!

  2. Needs a picture in picture of exterior view of that ride in a small window off to the side along with the GoPro view.

  3. Shit, I don’t have to ride a bicycle. The last time I had to do so was 1987, when I got my last (knocking wood) DUI. Now my two-wheelers have engines on them. Lots more fun.

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