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Since the time change, the first one I've done in eleven years, it's been getting dark here at 4:30. Five and it is dark as hell around this place. Arizona doesn't change time. I can't say I blame them. And it has been raining. Rain, rain, rain. I bought some fenders for my fixed gear yesterday. They are silver. I'll tell you this much, it hasn't been raining for the last two days here. Fuck me. I wrote this today at work. I can see my bike outside, tied to a bike rack in the gloomy rain with a steel cable. She doesn't want to come inside, for I am at work. I don't want to be inside either. We are both tethered to the rack. Each in our own way. I will join her soon. Rain, or not. For I have a knit hat, gloves and fenders. I can make it. Almost dry, anyway. Bring it on. I've decided that pretty much all the current big glossy cycling magazines out there totally suck. Today I read the new issues of Mountain Bike, Bicycling and Mountain Bike Action. All true evils of the cycling community. There isn't one God damn thing in them worth mentioning, other that the mistruth included within. "This is information that Mavic doesn't want you to read." Mountain Bike Action proclaims. We are giving away secrets. We hold the knowledge. I'm holding my dick, what does that make me? The article is showing, in gory detail, how to make your own set of tubeless tires. Lighter and cheaper than Mavic, they claim. Lighter, I'm about to blast off on, and cheaper, well, it's cheaper because it's assumed you already own a set of wheels you can modify yourself. Therefore saving the hundreds of dollars it would take to purchase a new set of Crossmaxs. Yeah, great, but read into it a little and it becomes obvious you not only need your own set of wheels, they had better be some fucking-a nice ones at that. Like, for example, the front wheel used is 623 grams. I realize this is a "claimed weight", but I'm going to go with all the numbers given in this little run down as gospel truth for a couple of reasons. I can't very well duplicate any of this here in the fucking sticks of Idaho. Things like rim strips used and quick releases are so much a point of personnel choice that I'm just going to consider it equal. Sure, some guys (like me) swear by Velox rim tape. And it's friggin heavy. Some people ante up the dead presidents for Ti qrs too. It'll change things a couple of grams one way or the other, sure, but tonight, it's a push. And, the numbers given are damning enough. 623 grams is one hell of light front wheel for a mountain bike. My own front race wheel is a Chris King hub mated to a Mavic 517, with 32 DT Revolution spokes radically laced, and alloy nipples. The day I laced it up, I put it on a gram scale with no quick release and Velox rim tape installed. My wheel was maybe, and I mean maybe, 685 grams. I don't know what kind of 32 hole, zip tied at the cross "custom bontrager race wheel" that is in the picture, but fuck, it's light. I wonder how sturdy it is? A Crossmax is one hell of a tough wheel. Just ask the thousands of people out there riding and racing them, every weekend, all over the country. OK, 623 grams. A front Mavic Crossmax is 727 grams. That makes for a difference of 104 grams. The rear wheel difference is 132 grams. With me so far? The tire used on the Mavic setup is 563 grams. Average. A Kevlar beaded, fast, light, standard use-it-with-a-tube, Hutchinson Python Gold, is 600. The tire used on the MTB Action setup is, are you ready for this: 339 grams. There are training clinchers for road bikes that weight more than that. Every MTB tire I've ever owned weights more that than. I can't think of anything that weights less. OK, maybe something like one of those Tom Ritchey slicks. The 1.4 size. Maybe that. What is the point to all of this? I'm glad you asked. Subtract 339 from 563 and you get 224. Double that (two tires) and combine it with the difference of the wheels used by MTB Action (236) you get the magic number of 684 grams. An nice MTB tube is around 100 grams (95 - 110). Of course you need two of them. The wheels and tires used by Mountain Bike Action are so much lighter than their Mavic counterparts that even with a standard tube setup they would be over 400 grams lighter. Shit, they're lighter than just about anything out there. By a lot. The whole thing is bull from the word go. Buy the lightest stuff you can find and it'll be lighter that someone else's lightest stuff. Big deal. This isn't a "cheaper and lighter" set of wheels than what Mavic makes, and it sure isn't the "...information that Mavic doesn't want you to read." But, maybe I'm being to hard of you fellas. After all, later in the same issue you say, "Half the fun of Mountain Biking is talking the tech talk." while reviewing a single speed bike, maybe a Brodie. It's page 91 or something. Um, no. Talking the tech talk is no fun at all. It's dumb. And I really can't believe I just spent that much time on it. What I find infinitely more exciting is that Jenna Jameson is on the cover of High Times this month. Now that, is fun. So, I figure it's up to me. I am now starting a product review of sorts here at drunkcyclist. The first two items up in ongoing installments of you break it you bought it are: a Bell X-Ray Pro helmet and a Hydrapak Ammo pack. How long have I had them: two weeks. How much have I use them: not much. Do I like them: sure do. It's fucking 40 degrees and raining outside, and it's the off season, and I'm a fucking pussy. Don't worry, any riding I do, I'll be using this shit, er, fine product. I'm keeping a long list, my friends. And I'm checking it. Twice, even. Sometimes. The helmet, which I've been wearing around the house all night, is super comfy. It's like this fucking thing was made for my head. Will it fit you as well? I don't know. Are you a three armed mutant with one eye in the center of your forehead? I'd say try it on. It is the same quality and attention to detail that we've come to expect from Bell. It's pretty boss and I can't find anything bad to day about it. That in itself speaks volumes. I pride myself on my ability to complain about anything. It'll be a crying shame when I fucking blow the line, plow into a boulder and smash this thing. But, at the same time, I won't be eating all of my meals with a spoon either. The Ammo. This is replacing a Hydrapack I got last year at the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo race. Door prize or something. Hey, look at the slow, fat kid. Anyway, the old one is a trimmed down, no frills racy little thing. The new one is a full on, get out there and see what's on the far side of the mountain, take all damn day, and take a twelve pack with ya type pack. I like it. I'm a tall son of a bitch, so the way you can adjust the waist belt up and down, away from your shoulders is the tops. It's got tons of room for a 100 ounces of water, a back up bladder (for really big rides), a jacket, all important food for the big man and enough tools to overhaul a Chevy. Really. All in an easy on the eyes blue package. Speaking of the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo, check out this email.
You just don't know how bad I want to be down. But I'm in fucking Idaho! February is a long way off, so I'll see what I can do. Maybe I'll head down for that race. I'm sure it would be a fucking blast. I heat the Garden Gnome is going to have another go at the solo thing. And, it is a course for a single speed. You hear that out there? This is the race for single speeds. It's a fast single track pretty much the whole way around. Fun, fun, and more fun.
Click here for more great quotes from David Duffied. Can you believe I have readers across the pond? I can't. Have you seen this one? How about this one? Check these guys out, mtb journal and their slogan is "ride it like you stole it". Pretty cool site. Right on, Happy Halloween everybody. Now go get drunk.
This is what brings people here, by percentage of total visits. Can you believe that shit? 55.13% jenna jameson Way more that half of you come here looking for Jenna Jameson. Coincidentally, I spend more than half of my time online looking for Jenna Jameson. Interesting. I'm with you guys right up until we hit, naked hot tub. That I really can't help you with. Willy Voet is a fucking hero. I have got to get my hands on a copy of that book. I once worked with at guy who went to church every Sunday. He even did a little preaching himself. And, he was one of the laziest sacks of shit I've ever worked with. Why is that?
And you know that Phil Liggett is the fucking man. Just read over some of these quotes: "The race is no respecter of reputation, your only as good as now". "The peloton makes natural selections" "You cannot breach the gap between opportunism and ability" "The Tour chooses it's champions where the mountains bear the snows of winter" "He looks back to see who's chasing. The answer is...no one." "And the heads of state have come to the fore..." You just can't beat that guy for cycling coverage. In my mind, he is synonymous with quality sports commentary. Simply put, he is the measuring stick for any and all announcers that will follow. And the mark is set very high. Want to see where I work? Ha! When you do web searches you find fucked up shit, like, for example an introductory, text-only guide to the wonderful world of sports in Liechtenstein. Find out where to swim, cycle, hike, and ski. Interested? Click here to enjoy that little gem. And then there is this. Wow, this bike shop looks like fun. Man, that website sucks. God damn, that is hard to look at. I've been inside that shop. My parents live in Doylestown. It's a great place. I love it there. That's why I live friggin two thousand miles away, because I love it so much. These people just plain fucking scare me. Seriously. They may try to appeal to me with statements like "...the time is now to stand up to the greenies and their attempts to close off public land to...mountain bikes. Yes, mountain bikes - The eco-freaks don't what you "peddle pushers" out there either." But, I see through it. These people are fucked in the head. I'll say it real clear, a bicycle is not anything like a truck, motorcycle or any motorized off road vehicle and I resist any implication that they are. There are places I like to ride my bike that I don't want anything with a fucking engine anywhere near. In my lifetime I have owned a Yamaha Banshee, a 650cc enduro and a big 'ol full size Chevy pickup. I didn't feel that I should be able to take these things where ever I wanted when I owned them, and I don't feel any different now.
If you can't stop beating off, like I can't stop beating off, maybe you should read this. It didn't so much help me to stop my nasty little habit, as to convince me to buckle down and to redouble my efforts. I am very enthusiastic about breaking my penis in 2002. It's my year. Did ya hear they caught Osama? We've all probably seen this one already, I know I have. I'm glad someone else took the time to upload it so I don't have to. Click here to see the Bin Laden interview. These guys have all that and more over at rock 1053.com. While I'm picking on Osama Bin Laden, why don't you take a whirl at smashing his ugly, turban wearing melon with a hammer? Its fun for the whole family. Thanks to Paul Katcher for sending this my way. Very grim. Please, for the love of God put you're cloths back on and start an exercise program. Fuck. Until you fat piggies start looking more like Kitana Jade, I don't want to see any more ya. This site rocks. I like that one a lot. I know it's not Easter yet, but damn. I know what I want this year. Fuck all that candy nonsense. I want huge boobs.
I couldn't agree more. The timing couldn't be more distasteful and inappropriate. Trying to get a mural such as that removed at a time such as this just shows how totally and completely out of touch some of these elected officials really are. The fucking pile of rubble that was once the pride of the New York skyline is a still smoldering tomb of countless thousands. And the City of Los Angeles, easily one of the greatest blights on any landscape, ever, wants a mural depicting the triumph and the tragedy on that day taken down? What a bunch of shitheads. Fuck 'em. It shit like that that make me proud to be a card carrying member of the ACLU.
Ah, you go to hell, Julie. You go to hell and you die. I guess I shouldn't fell so bad, it is a nice bike and I know that he'll really like it. It feels so good to give. Oh, and Robert sent in this link, the worst halloween costumes ever, on Friday and I'm just posting it today. I'm sure you can find this over at fark.com by now, just like everything else. I dont' know why I even bother with it sometimes, I just can't stay ahead of those guys. Fuck it, why try? There site kicks ass and I like it.
I went to a Halloween party last night with a bunch of law students. I can't hang with these people. These poor bastards are abused, belittled, beat down and swamped with work in ways I've never heard of. They get wrapped up so fucking tightly during the course of an average and totally hellish week, that when they let loose on the weekend: it's a throw down drag out mess. Look the fuck out. Talk about drinking, these people straight guzzle liquor. It was something like six bucks in the door, and an open bar. I only saw about five lame-o losers without costumes the whole night. There were at least three different types of beer on tap and I don't remember what any of them were. Some local brewery type shit served up in 16 ounce red plastic cups, passable but not outstanding I thought. I was more interested in a bottle of gin mixed with an unknown juice a girl dressed as a pregnant Catholic schoolgirl was rockin. Hitting straight off the bottle with a pregnant chick on the dance floor is right up there with sucking dick for crack money. Good times. I went as a classic nerd, with three unnamed first year female law freaks out for blood. We were a quartet of dorks. Pants up to the rib cage, pocket protectors and nametags. "Hi, I'm Dick Fitzapinia" mine read. Of course, I'm far too cheap to own a digital camera (yet) so pics will take awhile.
I never really heard of Bob Harris before today, but read his Big Long Essay On The New War On Terrorism. Seriously, it's friggin huge, but the guy is dead on. I think I might be in love. You just wouldn't believe how many people ask me, so big jonny jackass, what books are you reading lately? Ok, one guy asked. Fuck it. My new book, that I bought this week, is If God had meant for us to vote, he would have given us candidates by Jim Hightower. I know what you're thinking: A book review? Who fucking cares? Well, you might. Just take a gander at the opening paragraphs in Captain Rednecks new soon to be best-seller.
How'd that grab ya? Not even two pages into this thing and 'ol Jim is calling our political system "totally fucked". I love this guy. And, he has a website with a clean, simple layout but, unfortunately, no porn. And, he's got an audio archive full of country boy common sense spoken in authentic redneck drawl. This site sucks it. And, I mean that in the best way possible. After my little "dirty penis" problem early this week (sorry about that) and my email getting fucked up nine ways to Tuesday by the W32.Magistr.39921@mm virus, I now have a shitload of mail to work through. It really starts to pile up. So, I'm spending a big chunk of Saturday night plowing away at it. Here are some highlights.
I didn't see it because I live in hell and I can't just read all the new mags at the bike shop. Now I have to buy that shit, but where? I work at the largest bookstore for a hundred miles and we don't have it. And, I don't subscribe to Velonews, or any other bike magazine, anymore because I can usually read straight through an issue with one trip to the shitter. It just isn't worth it for me. But, I do miss getting Cycle Sport. That is one good magazine. No mention of you at Velo-news online either. Have I already mentioned twenty seven times how much fucking fun that trip was? Well, this makes for twenty eight then. Good times, for sure. I sometimes wish I never came back.
Um, what? How did you know about my llama sweater plans for world domination?
Now that is a whole lotta friggin porno. Cool site, but watch out for those two pop-ups when you exit. I hate that shit. I've been fucking around over there for a few minutes, and I have a question. Does this girl look like a mature blonde to you? Maybe I'm dating myself, but I reserve the word mature for old people, like this hag and this trainwreck. I'll bet that tastes like shit. This one is going to give me fucking nightmares for a week. OK, that is about it for now. More tomorrow. Goodnight.
Fuckin A. At least the freight train running through my head had slowed down to a rumble. Boy, do I love drinkin Pabst. And the shit you get to take in the morning, that's the tops. You want to see a flying pig sent straight from hell torch up a fucking Boing boing faggot in an SUV? We're talking yuppie bar-b-que, people. Check out the new flash animation over at flight of the pigs.com. Nice work by Case Flakeman, the fucking slugster. Hey, that page layout looks awfully familiar...
That's what friends are for, isn't it. Stealing each other's shit. So, where is my new flash cartoon? Huh, Flakeman? How about a little lovin for the big drunk? No drugs so far in USPS investigation. What were they "hiding" in roadside trash cans then? Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?
Does this look sixteen to you? Tits, ass and more ass, oh God. I'm goin to hell. If you want to join me, just hit the "prev." button on that last site, or click here. Its warm, isn't it? Holy shit. I am fucking loaded. I put a twenty on the bar at John's Alley and drunk PBR till I ran dry. I've fucking hit the backspace button a million times already because I can't even type. I can't speak or walk to good either. But, I rode my fixed gear home just fucking fine. Fuck it, I got skillz. Anyone else see the fucking Chiefs suck it tonight? What the fuck was that? KC owned that game, and they lost it like a bunch of bitches. It's only football so who gives a shit anyway. I'm sorry (again) about the virus thing. It sucked. I sent all kinds of weird shit all over the place. Some lucky fuckers got my resume. Enjoy. Fuck it, I'm done. Ya'll take it greasy and easy.
Tonight, an email virus infected me. And because I didn't even know I had it yet, I spread it around some by leaving Outlook idling while I wrote some bullshit and looked at boobs. The fucking thing was sending out copies of old mail to poor random bastards in my address book. Not even a half an hour after I get burned, I get seven of eight messages from people all over the place telling me, yep, you have a dirty penis. Good times. Some of you out there got some fucked up email form me and I apologize. I quick visit to tucows.com straightened me right up. Two shots in the ass later, I've eradicated that mother fucker and I'm pissed off. I don't think anything could be lamer than the guys who create computer viruses.
I had some server issues last night and this morning. I hope it didn't bum out anyone too much. It seems that someone started fucking around over at Sitelink services who shouldn't have and made life a little tougher than it should be for my main man Gabe. Yeah, he's a player. Lets just start this out with a little joke. Q: What do Kabul and Hiroshima have in common? Q: How do you play Taliban bingo? Q: What is the Taliban's national bird? Q: How is Bin Laden like Fred Flintstone? Q: Why does the Afghanistan Navy have glass-bottomed
boats? Q: What do Osama bin laden and General Custer
have in common? Q: What's the difference between the Taliban
and a bucket of shit? Q: How do you stop a Taliban tank? So, I'm checking out this website called erie's house of whoopass. It's cool and all, OK, it fucking kicks ass. You should hit it up soon. I have one question, how the fuck did he get all of this shit? God damn, I want some of that fucking action. Someone get my website on a set of breasts and send me some fucking pictures already. I want boobs. Think of it as your homework assignment. Sometimes I get enough forwarded email that I can piece together someone else's conversation. Read on. From: Kyle That thing looks like more fun than a barrel of drunken monkeys. Er, something. From: Dru You know, that thing does look like the bike Kyle was building in the garage. Well, with an engine and all, but it is familiar to the eye. Maybe you should sue for violation of intellectual property? Why not, that's what those assholes at Mirco$oft would do. Did ya'll hear what happened at De Feet? You can't even read about this at Velonews yet.
FIRE AT DEFEET INTERNATIONAL
Hildebran, North Carolina (October 23, 2001) During the early morning
hours of Saturday, October 20, a fire struck the headquarters of DeFeet
International, located in western North Carolina. No one was injured.
The Burke County Fire Marshall's Office, North Carolina State Bureau
of Investigation, and the ATF have all determined the fire to have started
accidentally. The cause of the fire is unknown at this time.
The fire consumed about 50 percent of the building that houses DeFeet's
corporate offices, manufacturing operation, and a portion of the company's
inventory. Substantial inventory, stored off-site, will be used to satisfy
existing and future orders as efficiently as possible. The machinery
necessary to produce DeFeet merchandise is being inspected and cleaned.
In addition, numerous machinery manufacturers have offered equipment
and assistance. Before the fire, a modern 25,000 square foot production facility was
being constructed adjacent to DeFeet's current operation, bringing Defeet's
total production space to 50,000 square feet. The new facility, which
was unharmed by the fire, is on track to be fully operational by January,
2002. Until then, DeFeet will be relocating to temporary facilities
which are expected to open by Monday, October 29. DeFeet estimates its
original building to be restored by January, 2002.
"We are extremely fortunate that the fire occurred at night when no
one was in the building," says Shane Cooper, president of DeFeet. "While
the fire is a setback, it by no means slows our growth and momentum.
DeFeet will be back stronger than ever. You can count on it."
DeFeet currently employs 50 people at its North Carolina facility
in Burke County, population of about 90,000. When DeFeet's new facility
is completed the company is expected to hire additional workers.
I'm just glad to hear everyone is OK. I met a few of those guys at the show, and let me tell you, they're good people. I think we've all worn their socks at one time or another. You might even be wearing them right now. A good product that pretty much speaks for itself. I'll leave you with these. Run Osama, run. Towel head bastard. And, General George Patton kicks the knowledge.
I wonder how far Bend, Oregon is from here? It seems that the Unofficial United States Single Speed Championships is going to be there. In a two days. Holy shit, I think I gotta go. Read about it here. This event sounds like it catering to my strengths. It "takes place far outside the blurry boundaries of political correctness". If that doesn't sound like me, I don't know what does. Shit, I need a fucking map. Where is this place. It can't be farther than Phoenix. It just can't be. Click here to see a chick with blue hair and a gun. If that's your thing. And, why the fuck is this girl holding a shoe? From: Kyle I'm really sorry to hear about Vlad. That fucking pussy. Did ya know he raced in Moab on one of those Klien/Trek/Fisher dual boingy boing bitch bikes? I saw it with my own eyes. What happened to that guy? I bet he doesn't even jerk off to porn anymore. Christ. I breaks my heart. But, I'm glad to see you went out like a fucking hero. I remember that race from last year. It hurt. That was the only race in the whole state series I did with a rigid fork. And what a smooth course to do it on. I bet I know exactly where Casey flatted. It's probably where I, and everyone else, flats way the fuck out there on the one steep decent. Right after that off camber pressure dip thing, all those rocks. I think Scott Wenning flatted in that spot twice in one race. I'm glad to see the money and the fame haven't changed you a bit. Fucking Paul Katcher rocks. It's because of him that I can look at shit like this and this, and of course, this. Now I have a chubby. This is from my friend Tom. I've never posted a request like this before, but fuck it. Why not? He's about the nicest guy you'll ever freakin meet, so if you need a place to stay, get at Tom. roommate wanted: Once again, you can email Tom if you are interested in lots of gay sex and ass play. With him, not me jackass. I can't believe it, but here it is. Click here to see the northern lights over Cathedral Rock Sedona, Arizona. I didn't have to move all the way the fuck up here to see the northern lights? Who knew I coulda seen that shit back where it was warm.
Its a labor of love, let me tell you. I think there is going to be a little shakedown in the gallery department around here soon. A few of them are getting so big it affects download time. And anything that gets in between you, my loyal reader, and instant porn gratification cannot be tolerated.
From: Bosco Clontarf The weather is painfully fucking slow in returning to something other
than fucking summer back here in the fucking valley of the suv, I mean
fucking valley of the sun. 92° today! That's nine, count 'em nine degrees
warmer than normal. I am so tired of the heat. Of course, I define an
acceptable high temp as one that allows me to start drinking heavily
at midnight and then stumble off to ride at noon the next day.
I do, of course, miss one treat from this summer - the TDF. What a
great race! It was so great to able to follow it every day. If you missed
it, check out Cippolini's skin suit from the time trial here [CippoliniSkinsuit.jpg].
And If I can't ride like Felix Cardenas, I at least want to learn how
to salute crossing the finish line like him. Check this out [FelixCardenasFinishLineSalute.jpg]
Yes, he is standing on his pedals.
In an effort to keep you in content, I am volunteering as your "man
on the ground" for all the latest in cycling news.
Local News: News of the Bizarre: Posing Pictures with the Bike Biker Babe Top Tube Length - Editorial Bike Setup Rebound Setup That's the news, Ciao for now. Bosco, always a pleasure to hear form you. You have such nice things to say. You are absolutely right about adverting. Step right up folks, you could be first to place a banner on drunkcyclist. I'll pimp God damn near anything. Someone give me some free shit, already. I also finally got around to adding some more hot chicks on bicycles over here. That baby is going to get split up soon. 136 images is just too damn many for one gallery. It should be at least three, if not four seperate pages. Ah, soon my pretties, soon.
Super Pimp Di Luca wins Giro di Lombardia in style. My man, Richard Virenque takes forth. Yeah, he's all washed up. Right. And, to no surprise, Erik Dekker takes home the World Cup. He would have had to be struck by lightning to not win, but, hey, it could happen. It's all in the books now. Read about all that and more at cyclingnews.com. It is just as good as this site, even without the porn. Well, almost as good really. In Arizona, where the sun shines and girls have full sets of teeth, I have this race report from our correspondent in the field, Jake the Snake Rubelt. You go, boy.
From: Jake Another great race report. Factual, timely and sure to start some shit. Just perfect. I wonder what the 'ol Gnome is gonna say about that? Oh, and definitely check out the photo section of AZ cyclocross. They did a real good job of putting that one together. You can even see the world's angriest hippy. It could use a little porn, I guess. Other than that... Dear Mom and Dad, I love it here at College. Please keep the checks coming. I need to buy more coke, er, school supplies from Jonny down at the bookstore. Love Susan. That girls going to end up doing hard core porn by the end of spring semester. At least if I have anything to do with it. I said porn. This is so sick, so wrong and so fucking awesome. I love it. The sites called Bang Bus, and this is the free movie trailer page. Watch a few of these. Looks almost good enough to pay up and join the site, but fuck that. I want free porn. Maybe I've developed a set of permanent beer goggles, but this is a website for fat chicks? I expected some big 'ol plumpers. This site I can understand, when they say Asian, they mean Asian. These are the smallest thumbnails of the hottest chicks with the biggest boobs. They even have our reigning Queen, Jenna Jameson. Click here to get in on the action. I can't get over how friggin small those thumbnails are. Fuck. From: Bruce 'Ol Brucy-poo sent in so many pics, I had to make a whole new gallery for them. Be warned, you may never look at a beer bottle the same way. Or, for that matter, it might change the way you look at some other things too. Like, um, you can really do that? And, you're right. I'm a bike mechanic no more. Now I fold sweaters and sell hot freshman chicks pencils. I want to hang myself.
Did I already link this this? I can't remember. Fuck, go look at it anyway. It is a sad, sad day when huge tits just don't make up for a busted grill. OK, they pretty much make up for it, but I had to say something. I used to link to this, but now they blank out the goods and redirect to some dumb sigh up page. Bunch of fuckers, I'll tell ya. I want free porn. This is the slowest site I've seen in months, but those are jenna pics. Still worth seeing. Wow, look, old and sloppy. The years have not been kind. From: Corey Hippy ass stinking bastard, you are the best. Don't let anyone tell you different. I think that letting the air out of you competitions tires in a sound plan. Fuck 'em, this is racing. If that doesn't work, try this. Wait until you are good and off the back. I have faith in your ability to do just that, on the first lap. Then, reverse direction and start heading straight towards those bastards. When your right in the mist of them, close your eyes and pretend we're back at the 'ol saltmine, you know Domenic's. Just start screaming and wipe those fuckers out like your clearing a bench of all its tools. When you've pulverized everyone to the point that they can no longer race (just pretend that they are all that bastard customer that wants his bike packed up in five minutes because he's already on the way to the airport and he wants it for free and he wants to watch and complain the whole time), then you can turn back around and waltz to the finish alone. From: Jason If you want to be fast like Jason, follow his advice. Click here. Just fucking do it, already. I'm sick of your guff. Right on man, I'm glad you liked the shirt. I got a few emails from people in Flagstaff about getting themselves a shirt; I can only blame you for that. Fuck-n-a it's getting cold and overcast up here in the northland. Fucking shoot me. I like that fark page a lot. They have shit like this redneck shooting the shit outta a couple of pumpkins and pics of hot ass Greek girls. It's boss.
When you ain't got shit to say, just go straight to the reader mail. It saves my ass. Believe that. From: northwave Nice fucking pics. I mean, God damn. I posted all the ones that actually had a girl and a bicycle in them. The other one, with just the hot chick get posted tomorrow. I hope ya'll like them as much as I do. 'Cause, um, I really, really like them. I think I need a towel. From: Bart My hands shake and my vision gets blurred just thinking about the possibilities. Shriners, the Charles Manson family, Free John Gotti club members, Mormon missionaries in suits and ties, priests,, fuck, the endless ideas. Did I mention the guy I saw in a full UPS uniform in Moab? I'd be down with something like that. An easily recognizable member of accepted society, but all hopped up on goofballs and raping all the women. Like dressing up like a US Mailmen. No one throws down like a crazed Postal worker. I like the Amish. Long black jackets and pants, made of wool. In the hot Iowa sun. It'll kill people.
OK, I'm loaded. Back at My Alley, John's Alley for a few pints of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Redneck Champaign, baby. It's the tops. Fuck, I dunno. I've gotten a fucking ton of emails and all sorts of weird crap lately. I gotta bust this out for all you porn junkies quick so I can stop pulling the pud in front of the computer and get back to drinking like a man. You got that, punk? This is for you. Just because I care.
Fuck it, I'm sick of looking at this shit. Here is the whole enchilada. Have at it, boys. You can thank Paul for mailing that one in. What the fuck else... Ah, good news on the job front. My stupid ass got offered two, yes two jobs, yesterday. Me. Fat, stupid me. I can't believe it. Now I actually have to choose what I want to do. Fucking amazing. You might want to see this. And, you might also want to see this. But, maybe not. This makes me laugh. What the hell do I know? I saw this on fark.com when I was at work, and it appeared in my inbox a couple of times at home. It must be good. Click here to enjoy some patriotic boobs. I'll leave you all with this. One hot ass chick. Thank you and good night.
New layout, again, sort of. I just can't friggin stop myself. Maybe that bastard Garden Gnome will stop calling me a homo now. Or, maybe not. What the hell do I know anyway? Not much. I got lots of great mail from all of you out there when I was traveling around. Thanks. Its nice to feel appreciated. You had me at "hello". Fuck man, life is fucked up. When I was gone, one of the only friends I have in this town had her house raided by the local boys in blue, Moscow's finest. Some weed possession bullshit. And I do mean raided. Guns drawn, hand cuffs and tearing the house apart raided. This war on drugs things has got to stop. What the fuck are we doing to ourselves? We have crazed Arabs sent from hell driving fucking planes into buildings, and nut jobs mailing Anthrax around the country for crying out loud! Do I give a shit about people who smoke, grow or sell pot? Hell no. It really pisses me off that my, our, tax dollars are being spend on trying to bust a few potheads. Good job, boys. Have a fucking donut. Get yourself one with jelly, lard ass. You deserve it. Those Muslim psychos? Don't sweat it, drug use is the true enemy of this country. Fucking pisses me the fuck off. Can you tell? Hey hey , weeeee. Can you say "beer goggles"? From: Scott
Just right click on that mother fucker and save it. If anyone ever finds the rest of that series, a movie, anything like that let me know. I would die to see that. Well, maybe not die. But you get the idea.
From: DH Well, shit howdy Davey boy, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. After all, I am the support staff to the stars. As for the 24 hour race in February, fucking-a I want to go. I'd love to race that one again. Imagine the team I could put together. It's scaring me even now. Shiver. I'll end tonight update with this tearjerker. Fuck, this guys story just plain fucking sucks. Stay down, brother, it'll come around. It always does. From: Hiram God damn. I need another beer. If anyone can help this guy out, email me and I'll get you in touch with him.
I've been modifying my site layout for about an hour now, trying different things and such. What have I figured out in that time? That I need to totally start over. Fuck this layout. I'm going to start fresh tomorrow. Then, I need to just leave it alone for awhile. It's like my bikes; I'm always fucking around with them in some way or another. Like I'm never satisfied with it. I dunno. You wanna hear about the 24 hour race?
Saturday. October 13, 2001. There is a freakin ton of people here. I didn't get any hard figures, but I heard there was four hundred teams. Last year it was 350 teams and 50 solo entries, so I'll bet it's the same. That's a lot of riders. And the support staff and spectators make this place look like a city our here in the bush. This place is probably as populated as Moscow, Idaho right now. And more fun too. All types of bikes and riders all over the place. I can't believe guys are riding ridged single speeds. Now that's fucking tough. There is quite a few of the fast and famous have showed up. But, I won't list any names because I'm lazy and I don't care. I've run into a few friends. Some expected some not. It's a good time here in Moab, but it is still daylight. The ugliness comes later, much later. Julz is cleaning here bike feverishly just in case Dave needs it in a pinch. I've got some huge 2.35 tires mounted on a set of back up wheels, spare tubes and cake frosted donuts lined up like this is a retail store. We're just nervous, really, and we need something to do. The coolest thing I've seen so far is a guy riding in a full UPS uniform. Shirt, pants, right down to the socks. Tight. Also, some weird "couple" on a tandem. They came by me on the far side of the pack and I didn't get a real good look at them, but... That was one ugly woman on the back of that thing. A blonde wig and a dress does not a woman make. I think she had a beard. The pilot had on a baby blue tuxedo with the ruffles and frill down the front. Very nice. I ran into Lee, one of the guys who puts together the 24 hours in the old pueblo race. You can read all about it at epic rides. I've done that race and it kicks ass. From what I've seen of this event so far, I'd have to say I'm leaning toward Tuscon if ya know what I'm saying. It's warmed up considerably around here since this morning. Since I'll be freezing my ass off tonight, just like I did last night, I'm going to soak this up while it lasts. I'm sporting shorts and a t-shirt, maxing in a lawn chair. Fucking great day here in Moab. Absolutely amazing. Form where I'm sitting I can see the La Sal mountains, the peaks dusted in snow, on one side and what they call "prostitute rock" on the other. I rode by the infamous red rock yesterday on a lap of the racecourse and noticed it's sandstone arches at either end. I inquired of its name and was told it's because prostitutes have two holes, one at either end just like the rock. I thought about that for a minute and answered that prostitutes have three holes as far as I'm concerned. I'll have to ride back out their tomorrow and see if I can't find a third arch. I just saw what looks like Gary Fisher on a 29 inch wheeled bike. Just this week someone was telling me that I should get one of those things, ride it around for awhile, figure out what they're all about and write about it on the webpage. A little product testing from an unbiased and grumpy source. Sounds great, I said, you have a bike I can try? I'm all about product testing, but I'm not made of gold here people. And I'm not altogether sure that anyone gives a shit what I think about things. They just come here for the porn. But, if for some reason someone out there wants my input, email me and I'd be more than happy to be totally disappointed in your product. The start of lap two. The pack has literally exploded with riders all over the place. Gaps are up a minute between riders already, and I've only seen the top twenty of so riders. This is fucking crazy. The fastest lap time so far is 58 minutes. Fuck, that's blazing. I seriously doubt I could do it in anything under and hour ten. And that would be a miracle in and of itself. Dave is either 2nd or 3rd as near as I can figure it. It's the same three guys up there, Dave, Rishi Grewal and a bearded guy on a Sugar, I think his name is Nat Ross. Only 15 minutes back and things are starting to group up a little. But not much. Where as the real fast guys were coming by one at a time, now I see two riders here, maybe five guys there. Nothing at all like that mob that came by on the first lap. If this thing stays true to form, it'll become on long endless procession of riders. With this may people and the length of the race, it just spreads out all the way around the course so they isn't ever riders in front and behind. Cool. 3:30 The porta-potties are already so fucking foul I could hardly stand pissing in that plastic hellhole. Dave has completed his second lap in 1:03, just seconds in front of Grewal. Fuck these guys are flying. I can't believe the solo guys are going this fast. Their lap times are top ten in the four man squads so far. Fuck, this can't last. Grewal came past and told me, "It's gonna be a long night." Why is he telling me that shit? I know full well it's going to be a long night. I get to stay up the whole time with you idiots too. Ugh. Julz is hasn't gotten back from riding around on the course. I hope she gets back soon because I don't know how I should be mixing up this carbo-crap. I can read the label, but I know it's not that easy. This is a special blend. A jigger of this, a shot of that, four scoops of the other. What the hell? 4:30 I got my shoes off and my feet propped up on my toolbox. Ah, this is the life. The rest of the crew is already into the gin and tonic, but I'm waiting for sundown for my cocktail. Just one for me, thanks, I'm pulling an all-nighter. Fun in the sun. My new cowboy hat is a Godsend in this sun, I'll tell ya. Thank you Flying J truckstop north of Ogden, Utah. This baby's a keeper. Grewal has overtaken Dave by about a minute, maybe less. Looks a lot like last lap, but the rolls are switched. This time when Grewal came by he sneered at me. Weird. Maybe he was just trying to get an insect out of his nose or something. Maybe he is that competitive. Who cares. When it's all said and done and this one's in the books, I'll still have a kick ass porn site and you'll still be riding a Klein. 5:29 I saw Wake from Surly a few minutes ago. That mother fucker skidded to a stop just to say "hi". And he's racing! Chirst, I'm like, go, go dude, I'll see you later. Surly fucking rules! Did I mention that my man Casey rides a Surly? He says it's the best bike he's ever thrown his leg over. Just ask him and he'll tell you the same. Available at finer retailers. Dave and Rishi are in their fifth laps with about two minutes between them. The third place guy is Ross, always there. Maybe he's the dark horse? I think he's smart to ride his own pace. And it's not a slow pace either. Remember that there are 25 solo men. Fuck that out in front shit, just be there come crunch time. Ought to be around three in the morning, that's when the tough guy shit matters. That is where these types of races are won. The gap after these three riders just seems to get greater after each lap. I think that anyone back in fifth, sixth and lower might just be out of contention already. I figure it is about an hour and a half till sundown. And when that glorious glowing orb hits the horizon, I'm getting into the booze. Gin and tonics at twilight is the word around here. This freakshow just keeps getting better and better. A guy just rolled by with big Mickey Mouse ears on his helmet. And then you have the guy in the tutu. Let's just say that he's comfortable with his sexuality. Speaking of comfortable with his sexuality, Big "Meat" Nate got hit on at a Chevron station in town. Yeah, I mean by a guy. First they guy starts telling Nate, er, Meat something about his truck, then it's right to the "you have beautiful eyes" shit and "here's my number". The poor bastard. You tell me and the next thing you know, I tell the whole planet. Here comes the day's first ambulance. It just headed out of camp, right down the road by me with its lights blazing and the siren too. I hope you're OK, buddy, who ever you are. 6:45 The sun goes down, the gin comes out. This is still fun. Ask me that again in 18 hours. Since I'm only having one, lets make it a dozy. Oh yeah, that the ticket. What a day. Same three guys in the same three places. It really is a war of attrition. Just keep plugging along until the other guy fucks up. 11:09 After what he calls a "shitty ass lap" Dave is out. That is it, folks. I can't say that I blame him. This is some sick, sick shit. He's a mess. I've ridden with Dave a lot this last year, and usually it's him waiting on me at the top of the climbs, back at the car, just waiting for fat ass in general. I can tell he's had enough. First comes the seat by the fire. Why, yes Dave, it is cold out tonight. The fire does feel good, you're right. And then off comes the helmet, then the gloves. It's over folks, nothing to see here, move along, nothing to see here. 11:35 Fuck this, I'm riding a lap. I'm so fucking jacked up on coffee, I feel like I'm going to explode. Since I was planning on not sleeping, I've had about a whole pot myself with dinner. It's cold, but if I'm doing something I ought to warm up some. So, it's out of the warm clothes and into the frozen cycling shit right out on the bag. Man, those shorts are cold. Jesus, what just happened to my nuts? I'm wearing everything I own. Bad ass. I've wired up a helmet light and the brightest handlebar setup I've ever seen in my life. Fuck, this is cool. I want on of these. What does something like this cost, ten, twelve dollars? 3:00 am Back at camp for some donuts. Everyone here is asleep, but the rest of this place is rockin. I've seen some crazy shit out there tonight. Horrible crashes, shooting stars, the works. Lots of beer to be had as well, this is great. I should have been doing this the whole time. There are places out there on the course where you can see the lights of a hundred riders snaking across the desert. It is so cool, I can't even tell you. I need to go back over to Dru's compound for more Budweiser. 10:35 am I'm all showered, clean and getting packed up to leave. I can't say that I'm all that sad about it. I wish I could stay in town for the whole fat tire festival thing this next weekend. But, not really. I have one hell of a long drive ahead of me. I'm figuring on around 20 hours of driving time to get home. Home. What a concept. My own bed, my wife, my dog, my website. It's a life and I like it. One last thing happened. I met a guy from Bell sport who told me he was going to get fired for this site. Looking at it at work, that sort of thing. Far from being pissed off, he gave me a new helmet. Now that is fucking cool. What a guy. Good luck, man, I hope you don't loose your job. Unless of course you hate your job and want a new one. In that case, fuck 'em. Anyway, thanks for the new lid. I really appreciate it. Well, that is the race report. I hope ya'll enjoyed it. It was a great race. I'll be back next year. You can read about the race in great detail at granny gear. Until next time.
I have no idea why I find this as entertaining as I do, probably because I once had a neighbor with the same name, nice girl, but check out this Amy Miller. Clicky over here and over here. Thatta boy, D up, this is go time. And of course, some porn links for today. What day would be complete without it?
The rest of this nonsense is more of my road trip. Read on and do exactly what the song says, you can be just like me. Take pills, smoke weed, drink beer, get behind the wheel and drive. Doncha want to be just like me? Um, something like that.
That's it for the vacation memories for now. I'm trying to put together my race report from my shitty scribbles I call notes. And, I have got to work on a new layout for this shit pile. Did ya know this site was recently voted "most like man love" and, perhaps even more telling, "most gay". Damn it all to hell.
Well, I'm home and I'm beat to shit tired. I haven't the strength to put together a proper update, so I'll just leave this one short and to the point. I had a great time on my trip. It was really nice to meet some of the guys and girls out there that like this site and make what I do fun. The last two and a half weeks have totally kicked ass start to finish. Right now, it feels like my ass got kicked pretty damn good. That's what sitting in a car for 20 hours does to ya I guess. I'm going to try and pull some names and whatnot out of my ass here. I'd like to say "Hi" and to thank, in no particular order, the following people: Gitty, Hippy Corey, Nic and Randy, Heath and the other Nick, Yardsale, Jake the Snake, the Garden Gnome, James from UP, Mike from Sock Guy, Julz the bike betty for hire, Matthew and everyone else from Timbuk2, everyone at Dirt Rag, Chris with ride a bicycle, Bensey at azcyclocoss, Ronnie at Marzocchi, Lou with tenten products, the folks at Orange bikes, everyone at Surly, everyone at Kona, all the shop guys at Domeninc's Cycling, Bicycle Wheelers, Landis Cyclery, Adventure Bikes, Single Track Bikes, Cosmic Bikes, Charlie the mother fucking fit guy, the fellas at Peak Bar, and the guys at Extran. If I left anyone out, I'm sorry. My head is pretty much caved in at this point. I can't even imagine what it is going to feel like to go back to work. I'm going to be worth every cent of that minimum wage. There will be some more shit to post tomorrow, and I've got 126 emails to plow through. I need sleep.
How can I come down to this warm, sunny desert environment and get a cold? It is beyond me, really. I guess that 5 solid days of drinking will do that to ya. Who knew? Everyone in the world has probably already seen this game. It's pretty kick ass. A few of you out there have sent the link in, so I figure I need to post it. Even my sister told me about it. I need to update more. Even more wallpaper. I got this link from the fine folks at fark. Good, good stuff. Looks like all the rumors floating around this spring and summer had a little truth to them. Mercury is hosed. Suspended by the UCI. You can read about it here, just scroll down the page a bit. It's a shame. You just can't have enough high calibers American teams as far as I'm concerned. I've heard a lot of shit about who and what is to blame, but I can't say I know the truth. In the end, maybe it hardly matters what happened, just that what was looking like a match to US Postal is no longer a reality. Virenque takes Paris Tours? No shit. I didn't see that one coming. Good for him. That ought to shut up some of his detractors. But, probably not. Seems like most people have it out for him in a bad way. In the last issue of Cycle Sport a reader wrote in, "Virenques's name is synonymous with doping, and it the Union Cycliste Internationale has any credibility they should ban him (and the other cheats) for life." Strong words, for sure. But, do you really think that he is the only cyclist that has taken drugs? I think a lifetime ban is a bit much. To the best of my knowledge the guy never even failed a drug test. Not that it makes him an innocent, but other riders are caught each year, and they still hold racing licenses. What gives? Why does everyone hate Virenque so much? Frankie Andreu called him, "the dickster." This is it for a few days. Tomorrow I leave for Flagstaff and then it's on to Moab for the weekend. I'll be fixing bikes for the Garden Gnome. He's going solo, baby, and his number one sponsor is drunkcyclist.com. Fucking cool. I'll also be helping out a nice little four-man squad, also down with drunkcyclst. And to think I don't have a pot to piss in. All I can really do for these guys is show up with my toolbox, stay up all night (drinking) and hand out stickers. At least with me, you get exactly what I promise at the beginning of the race season: Not much.
I've spent the better part of two days on Nic's sofa and I'm still all fucked up. Viva Las Vegas in my ass. I'm ruined. Top to bottom, I'm a fucking mess. I probably won't shit right for another week at least. So much for the State time trail tomorrow. I can barely handle the "big three". Those three little things that make a day really count. I'm taking about the 'ol shit, shower and shave. It's a train wreck around here. Speaking of train wrecks, when you're in Vegas, hit the Double Down bar. It's a train wreck with a door. Holy shit, that place goes off. I was there one night and some dude showed up wearing a rubber horse head mask, screaming and guzzling Pabst Blue Ribbon, the Redneck Champaign. Good times. I'll try to recount the last week of my life the best I can. It hurts my head to fucking breath at this point. I took notes, and boy are they bad. Here goes. Day 1. Meet the Moscow maniacs I'm carpooling down with at around eight at night. We number five: Kari, TJ, June and Mister Fabulous and myself. Coffee, coffee, and more coffee. The plan, a loose one at that, is to simply drive until we are too tired to continue. Hey, it is a plan anyway. Did I mention that I live in bum-fuck Idaho now? It takes an hour and a half just to get to the fucking interstate! Fuck me in the face. We make it to Missoula, Montana at 2:00 in the morning. Thanks to Chris for putting up with five idiots in the middle of the night. An 18 pack of Budweiser will open a lot of doors these days it seems. Day 2 Day 3 I don't remember exactly where I realized it, but TJ was no longer behind me in the Jetta. I drove a little slower, and then a little slower yet again. I pulled over and waited. No TJ. I turn around and head back towards Mesquite. Where the fuck are those guys? I find them. Pulled over with the hood up. Doesn't look good. It isn't good. Some plastic coupler looking piece that connects a radiator hoses to the engine block and houses the thermostat is cracked open spilling it's vital contents all over the 100 degree Nevada pavement. We are fucked. A few telephone calls only affirm the obvious. Towing is expensive and the parts can only be found in Vegas at a Volkswagen dealer. So, in the car we go to find some parts. An hour to Vegas, an hour to find the parts, anti-freeze and a socket set. An hour back and most of the day is already burned off. Part installed, fluid leveled topped off, let's start this thing. OK, it runs, but what the fuck is that puddle? This thing is pissing anti-freeze out the tail pipe. Now we're really not going anywhere. This thing either has a cracked block or a blown head gasket. We cannot fix this ourselves. So, we pile five people and all their gear in my Buick and drive into Vegas for the second time. Dinner at 10:30, in a room by eleven. It took me all day to go 85 miles. What the fuck. Day 4 Let me just say this: Kona is the coolest bike company on the planet. I start meeting all kinds of cool people and having a blast. Guys from Dirtrag rule, guys from Surly are really cool. I wish I could remember to name everyone, but I am a retard. So it goes. I meet up with Yardsale, who is in from North Carolina. Heath and Nick from Pennsylvania and Corey, the Worlds angriest hippie from Flagstaff. This is going to get good. Spend the whole day giving out a shit load of stickers. It seems every other person I meet knows about the site. I'm stoked as hell. As soon as this thing starts wrapping up, free beer shows up everywhere. Inside, outside, everywhere. I'm guzzling ale like it is going out of style. Good times. I offer Greg Herbold some drunkcyclist stickers and he looks at me like I'm wearing an "I have AIDS" shirt with a fucking needle handing out of my arm. I tell him it's a website, check it out. I don't think he likes me very much. The Fox video premier party was the same night. It was a drunken disaster. Stupid movie, stupid club. Time to leave. 15 of us pile into a van and hit the strip club. One thing I learned, buying a girl lap dances is way more fun than getting one yourself. Girl on girl, breast on breast, crotch on crotch. Oh God, it fucking ruled. I bought two or three in a row for my new girlfriend. In fact, we pissed away all out money and had to have the very girl we bought the dances for in the first place pay the cab fare back to the hotel. Day 5 Mother fucker went to the airport, washed down a hand full of pills with a quart of Miller, stood in line for two and a half-hours and prepares to board. Gets all the way to the fucking entrance ramp is in informed that his ticket is not dated for the first, but the tenth. Yardsale typed in 10 instead of 01 when he ordered his ticket. Oops. Time to start this thing up again. Yardsale is rollin hard already. He starts telling me about how they don't call it a gang-bang anymore. Now, they call it sport fucking. Then it's on to the show for another day fucking off and embarrassing strangers. Back in the Hotel room, watching a little football. Niner's over the Jets in the third quarter waiting for my friends Nic and Jef to show up with the pizza and hot wings. The diet of a committed cyclist is complete only with the 12 pack of Budweiser I'm working on right now. Las Vegas is such a dirty city. What a stinking shit hole. We are supposed to be meeting the family for dinner. Yeah, that "family". We are going to be late, if we ever make it at all. Feelings will be hurt. That type of rudeness usually being punished by a dirt nap in an Iowa cornfield, we ought to know better. Met the fine folks at Kona yesterday and was amazed. People not only occasionally read my website, they also apparently like it a great deal. Amazing. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that I would meet this many people that enjoy my little pill party of a website as I have in the last two days. Fucking Amazing. Where are those guys? Don't they realize what they are getting into? I am going to be a lump of sand in the desert soon. All I wanted was some friggin food. The bike show is a strange, strange trip. Shit, anything in Vegas is a drunken car wreck anyway. This is just a little bit over the top. Last night was one of the most spectacular evenings I have spent on this planet. We started at the Fox video premier party. I have no idea what the first film was because my drunk ass missed it. My dinner is here: one slice of cheese pizza, one hot pizza and one stalk of celery. I hope I can find room for it. It's a good thing I have lots of beer to drink. Friends. Hey, they are great. Hey Jon, we are going down to get a pizza, we'll bring it up. Really guys, that's great. I'll stay here and take a shower. I like pizza and hot wings, that'll be great guys. Guys? So now not only am I going to starve to death, Domenic is going to have my legs broken. What can I do? I've called the cell phone Dru (Vlade) gave me twice. All I get is some answering service. Fat lot of good that's going to do for me. The guys that shovel sand over my fresh corpse later tomorrow won't even hear those messages for three fucking days. Time to start drinking. Wanna hear a story? A few weeks ago, Yardsale goes out after work to rail down shots for a couple of hours on a Friday night. Nothing special yet. He tells me, "One of my first recollections is waking up in a field and wondering where my car was. Then I realised my car was out of gas on the other side of the field." Never one to quit, he continues onward. "I walked to a station and I bought a gas can for $13.50 and three bucks worth of gas. I was fucked. I was so cold. I didn't have any socks. I was freezing walking though knee high wet grass with no socks." One can only assume he had shoes. And this is far from over. "When I got back on the highway, the first sign I saw for Chapel Hill said 85 miles." Yardsale lives in Chapel Hill. He's driven to this bar before. The distance is around ten miles and should take 15 minutes. He left the bar at 10:30, and got home at 3:30. The odometer reading in the morning was 180 miles. This guy belongs on a bike and nothing else. Ever. You hear that Cove, he likes your steel hard tail. You could be a part of the legend which is Yardsale. The Double Down. There is a poser on the wall that reads, "Ass Juice. Outta our ass and into your glass." They also sell puke insurance. Twenty bucks gets ya all the well liquor you can drink, but if you puke, you gotta clean it up yourself. What could be cooler than that? There was some kind of messenger race that ended at the Double Down that night. The guy who organized it was real cool and I forgot his name. Just like I forget all the names. I think he was from Boston. The event was called Beer and Loathing in Las Vegas Contestants were instructed to do things like go to a certain casino and get a token cup. And then go to a strip club and get a business card. On to a crack house, write down the graffiti on the walls. Like a big 'ol scavenger hunt on booze. You know what I'm pissed about right now? I never got one of those 6 East shirts before they closed down. I miss that shit hole even more as I sit in the Double Down. I'm here at the bar, drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon, and some 20 inch BMX freaks show up. One of these mother fuckers is wearing a horse head mask. He can't see anything out of it, he's stumbeling into shit and screaming. To drink, he tilts the nose skyward and pours his Pabst down the snout and all over his shirt. This guy fucking rules. I don't know who these guys are, but they are singing (screaming) along to every punk rock song I've ever heard. Agnostic Front and Black Flag on the juke. This place fucking rules. NRA = nachos, rifles and alcohol. BMX mother fucker. Some guy wrote this in my note book when I went to tap a kidney. I don't know what the fuck he's talking about, and I don't know who the fuck he is. I gave him some drunkcyclist stickers. Now putting stickers on his buddy's head and he's punching them down tight. Fucking something like that. I don't even know how I took notes at this point. But if I hadn't I wouldn't remember half of this shit I thought up. Like this next gem I wrote down at some point, and don't remember at all: These guys, right now, are more hardcore than the entire Fox video I saw the other night. The rest of it is some crazy shit Yardsale was spouting off later in the evening. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but nothing about the man ever does. "You put a banana in her ass, an apple in her cunt and shove your cock down her throat. It's as vegan as it gets, baby." "Hit her in the head with a lamp. Fucking whale her in the head with
the fucking lamp. Just reach over, grab the lamp and beat her with it. That's what I wrote down. Swear to God. Day 6 I suck cock at bowling, I really do. We all did. But we did drink a lot. Overheard one Arizona sales rep ask another, "So, did you see anything
at the show that was worth a shit this year?" This was our last night, and we went out like rock stars. I drank like a friggin fish for hours. Buying up Budweisers 6 at a time. Yee haa. I can't wait for next year. Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 More later. Maybe in a couple of days I'll get a chance to "borrow" some more computer time. We'll see.
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