From this morning's mail:

Fuck You, Bike to Work Day People!

I bike to work every day. Sure, I do it because it’s my only source of exercise but mostly because we only have one car and my husband works in the south end. So we’re doing our part to be green and shit, right? Right. So on Bike to Work Day, I stop at the Dexter and Fremont ‘Commute Stop’ to share in the love with my fellow brethren and pick up my swag. But what do I get when I go up to the booth? Nothing. Not a glance. And you want to know why? I’m gonna tell you why. Because I don’t look like I’ve been dipped head-to-toe in Spandex. Because I’m
not wearing bike shorts with a pillow strapped to my ass. My commute is 2.4 MILES and I refuse to dress up like radioactive Playmobile doll for 15 minutes. I can bike up Dexter in my Capri pants and ballet flats just as good as the rest of you motherfuckers. So you know what, Bike to Work People? You can keep your fucking socks and plastic bottles and annoying blinking lights. You can admire my ass in my NON-PADDED jeans when I pass your fat one going up Dexter, my Pashmina scarf flying in your face.

I have a very short bike commute, too, and I sometimes do it in high heels. Solidarity, sister! You don't want a plastic bag full of crappy bike swag anyway. Every day is Bike to Work day!