Drunkcyclist.com

I took photos of three of my bikes after riding each of them around the block.

Moser w/ Dura Ace 10

Ciocc w/ Campy 8 spd

Lemond w/ Campy Chorus 8 spd

With every intention of taking the Mrs. out for a mtb ride yesterday, the weather wasn’t having it. So, what to do but surf the web and read some news. Never hurts to learn, right? What’s been killing me lately is the lack of anything viable, or nary a feel-good story. Killings here, bombings there, capitalist market scandals and bike teams folding quicker than an cheap suitcase.  Shit, even the state I live in has gone FUBAR.

I’ve got my eyes on one last present under the tree but I have to wait like everyone else until the 20th to open that bitch up. Can’t I just have my present now? I’m not saying this is going to be the great hope, but it’s better than what we’ve got right now. Right?

Seeing as the market’s taking a nose dive and businesses are closing their doors, I’m unsure what the future holds. I work for a bankrupt company and the money’s not lasting forever. I thought I’d never see the day that I’d have to subsidize one job with a second job. WTF to do? Wait tables, serve drinks, turn a wrench or start racing again? I know a stale box of Power Bars and some shitty-ass Prime money won’t do me justice. Maybe I’ll just slang dope…
Nah, I can’t compete with these fuggers.

Maybe I’ll just have a bake sale instead…

Tour de France 1992: Andy Hampsten à l’Alpe d’Huez (1/2)

Tour de France 1992: Andy Hampsten à l’Alpe d’Huez (2/2)

An oldy (august of ‘08) dug up from out of the upsideout catacombs. I needed to share it too. It’s the future…

2008 was beat down and long in the tooth. It goes without saying. I haven’t wanted to think about it, much less try to put anything on paper. Everyone else has been pumping out opinions on it anyway. But alas, I felt obligated should I ever need to reflect on my “condition” at the time. So this Saturday, the snow began to fall again, and after laying around the house for seemingly the 50th day in a row, I thought maybe I should sit upright, relieve the pressure on the bedsore, crack another beer, and write some crap down. Ramble and drool on the keys.

January one seemed to be the chronological point of relief of a mass catharsis following a bleak decade as Americans. The change of course began with the election, The first in the three step program. Next, we gave ourselves that moment at midnight just days ago, to inflict our lofty aspiration and positive mojo on 2009. A collective foreshadowing of what we want in conjunction with the official end of Bushco as the history books will tell it. We’ll seal the deal come the 20th. But, after the party of the last decade, the cleanup detail isn’t going to be an easy task. Consider this whole first term dedicated to it, if not longer. Much longer. The Republicans proved themselves to be quite the rowdy partiers for certain, smashing the cake, cashing the keg, breaking into dad’s liquor cabinet, setting off the extinguishers in the laundry room, and “borrowing” the scooter for a beer run, never to return. Obviously burned out, even beer bong veteran G.W. is eager to get on with it. He knows as we all do, everything has been dragging on for way too long. (more…)

One week. Then I go back to school. This break will not be long enough. I need months to get over this shit. I need a job. I need a paycheck. I need hopes, dreams and aspirations.

I’ll settle for LA Direct Models. Sites like that crack my shit up. Check out the matrix. Let that guide your pen as you write your first porn masterpiece. Oh, you too shall make a living in the jizz biz. Just don’t ask what the back forty of that experience looks like. Let’s just pretend it’s all good times and cream pies for ever after.

And so it goes…

I still have one new text book to buy. That ought to be fun, eh? Spending hard earned, I mean, borrowed money to buy some god damn brick I’ll never touch again come this May. I’ve got big plans for my Civil Procedure text that involves a bucket and a 30 pound bag of concrete. We’re going swimming. Well, you’re going swimming. I’ll be high and dry on the dock. You’ll be down there on the bottom. Tonight, you sleep with the fish.

Nah, that’s too easy on you and too quick for me. One splash and it’s gone? Nope. Not good enough. We need something I can properly savor. Burning would also be much too quick. The memories will fade from my mind’s eye, much like the burning embers of that glorious moment of flaming justice will settle to ash come the morning, leaving my lust unsatisfied. I need more than that, much more. I shall gibbet thee, so that I may watch the birds rip your flesh from my kitchen window. Many a fine morning I shall have, as you slowly fall to pieces bound to yonder wall. Suck it up while you can, you smug bastard. I won’t be under your heel forever.

Our Celebrity Elect. We’ve all seen it. Planned. Packaged. Delivered. Shit’s pretty ridiculous at this point. Hope his policy is half as good as his marketing appeal. Remember Carter picked up after an equally malformed Nixon, and couldn’t policy his way out of a paper bag. We’ll see right? The messiah is gonna come. I just know it. Fuck it. Until then, it’s just another bright light of the same train wreck, but I’ll go ahead and keep twirling my baton too.

Been enjoying Fugazi of late and stumbled on a Red Hot Chili Peppers cover of Waiting Room. Almost enough reason to respect them again. Almost.

Gimme the Cure. Something soothing about it, and all the entrails of the post-punk pop-punk era. Sure. Ain’t no statement there. Nothing a true Richmond/DC punk could appreciate I know. Soft. Fuck it.

Stevil’s clue on Red Fang about set it right for me. I’ve been in a cave for days with all this holiday bullshit. It was good to come out and see metal begin to redeem itself. Reminded me I’ve been missing something in my life for about 15 years. (more…)

Photobombing sees no limits.

Mike rolls the skate park MTB style. You know what they say… “Bigger Wheels. Bigger tacos.”

Compliments Hevi Kevi and Pinkbike.com

This one showed up in my inbox recently. You’ve probably seen something a lot like it before. If you haven’t, well, lucky you. Lets start ‘09 out with a bang then, shall we?

Is 8:05 am too early to start drinking?

History 101 (Crash course)
For those that don’t know about history … Here is a condensed version:

Humans originally existed as members of small bands of nomadic hunters/gatherers. They lived on deer in the mountains during the summer and would go to the coast and live on fish and lobster in the winter.

The two most important events in all of history were the invention of beer and the invention of the wheel. The wheel was invented to get man to the beer. These were the foundation of modern civilization and together were the catalyst for the splitting of humanity into two distinct subgroups:

1. Liberals, and
2. Conservatives.

(more…)

Well, what’d ya know. Another year in the books. It’s been fun.

God Bless America.

No doubt, most of you out there have seen this little item about Jonathan Page missing a drug test post race after a recent outing. When reading the article, you see that, the Page’s have a ton of excuses about “why” Mr. Page missed his doping test after the race. He crashed. He didn’t finish the race. Nobody came and told him he was due to be tested. None of his friends didn’t tell him about his test. And so on and so forth.

Look, I’ve got to believe that this is NOT Mr. Page’s first time at the rodeo as far as large scale UCI cyclocross races go. Meaning, he’s done this before. He knows, as does just about everyone else racing in these races, that he might get pulled for a random drug test, and if he does well in a race, he will get tested after he finishes. OK, sure, he didn’t finish this race. He crashed hard, and was feeling the ill effects of said crash as he went back to his motor home to call his doc, and wait for his support team (mostly his wife Cori) to head on back to the motor home to see how things were going. (more…)

A brother could get used to this “winter break” concept. Damn glad I’m not down in Tucson trying to find some kind of fitness before the Two Four in February. First up, this little gem:

That and way more fun at: seveload

No idea how that sells washing machines… But I really want to buy one or two of ‘em right now.

From: Ben T.
Subject: 4000 holes
So my buddy and I were driving to the skate park and I was taking random shots out of the window and I got this one - I dig the rowdy chick next to the 4000 hole sign, she just might have that many… your looking at a spokane chick and yes she probably has a kid or three and a std’s. There are more women in the bar scene here with kids than without. This might be a good caption this or not. My caption would be- it only cost a buck to stick it in one of those 4000 holes.

I’m afraid to caption it without two condoms and bread bag up over my nuts and tied with a string. God damn. Spokompton lives. Gimmie a minute.

Ok, all set. Damn string was too tight. I hope my wife doesn’t get upset I dumped half a loaf of bread out on the counter. I needed the bag, honey. Well, at least it’s better that the half loaf I floated in the pool the other day. What? Nothing. Can I put the bread back in this bag when I’m done? What the kids don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.

My caption is: “She’s got summer teeth - Some’r here, some’r there.”

Link dump:

The Doping Dilemma - sciam.com
Dilemma - emmagardner.com
Photobombers of the Day - listoftheday.blogspot.com
Snow Jammin - azcentral.com
Husky Midget Theme Song - dancefloordale.com

That jam, in case you’re interested, is Flying Lotus - Los Angeles. The meat is all Husky.

Ever wonder why those yellow bike programs seem to go nowhere?

I think that explains it. On several levels.

Whatever. Swing that hammer.