Some days reality is so fucked, all I have to do is sit down and start typing and an update just flows out with no effort. Like sands through the hourglass, these are the days of out lives.
As many of you know, my life is pretty much an open book. All the dumb crap in my life ends up all over drunkcyclist for your enjoyment. That is extended to the lives of my friends quite often as well. If you canít embarrass and humiliate your friends, what can you do?
Now some things are too much, even for me. If someone I know bombs an aids test, I probably wouldnít post it. At least not right away. For me, it was my dog trying her hand at the gypsy lifestyle. Little fence jumping bitch. I just couldn't face it until now. Hereís how it played out.
Sunday I come home to no dog. I do the ride around the neighborhood thing, I do the drive around the neighborhood thing. I make phone calls to the local dog pound and humane society. Itís Sunday night and nothing is happening with these people. I go to sleep and wake up twice dreaming she's come back and is standing at the side of the bed. Not fun.
Monday comes, still no dog and Iím on the horn again. Iíve had a little microchip thing implanted in her shoulder just in case this exact scenario ever played out. The dog has a bar code, and I have a 1-800 number. Iím able to find the woman who found my dog Sunday afternoon through this service and she tells me the humane society now has my dog. It is interesting to note this woman lives less than a mile from RJís place, where Iím staying. At Cave Creek and Union Hills. Way the fuck up in the north valley.
I call around with the number and come to find out I could be holding the holy grail in my hand and it wouldnít matter to the humane society, or the animal control department in Phoenix. You lost your dog, you drive down and have a look at the dogs. Great. 35th av. and Durango. A million miles away. And they close at 5.
Iím working till seven, so getting there today is out. But at least I know where she is. Tuesday I switch shifts with super craig and Iím rollin to the west side at 2:30. If you donít know what 35th and Durango looks like, just do this. Next time you take a shit and wipe your ass, take a peak at the toilet paper before you drop it in the bowl. Iím sure youíll see a pretty good likeness to 35th and Durango.
Guess what? I look at all 400 fucking dogs and mine isnít here. What the fuck did they do, let someone adopt her? Iím going to fucking kill someone in a minute.
I find the only coherent employee in the building (third one I talk to) and break it down for him. I stop just short of telling him to produce my little sweetheart or he's going to the hospitol. He tells me there is another animal control building on the other side of town, 8th street and the 101. Fuck me, itís already 4:20, the highways are going to be a fucking parking lot and it wasnít any fun on the way over here already. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Back in the car and drive for an hour. A fucking hour. Find the place and start checking for my baby.
I find her.
She looks at me, not quite believing what sheís seeing. Iím looking at her, not quite believing what Iím seeing. She comes up the chain link fence. She starts shaking. Iím sticking my fingers through the fence, touching her, calling her name. Sheís licking my fingers and sticking her paws back at me through the same fence.
It was quite a moment.
There you have it, the whole story. Fuck this town. Cost me 70 bucks and almost 4 hours of my day. Sucked a mile of cock for sure.
Fuck this, Iím going camping. And I'm taking the dog with me. Iíll update in a couple of days.
Big mail update. Big mail. Big.
Riding home from work today, it was dark. Night time, you know how it is no sun and all. Iím making the corner onto Invergordon (ivergordon?) and this bozo drives up next to me. Weíre rolling along side by side at this point.
You know where this is going already, donít you? "Yeah?" I reply.
"Sir, the light on your backpack is very dim."
Heís nice enough to call me sir. I feel like being a dick. I ride closer to his mustang, he moves further into the middle of the road. Cyclists make him uncomfortable.
"Iím sorry?" acting like I canít hear him.
"Sir, the light on your backpack is very dim."
Sounds like a broken record around here. Fuck me. What makes it all the better is that I somehow remembered to mount a brand new rear reflector on my bike today at work. And, I say again, and, Iím running a Niterider headlight on the ten watt setting. Itís bright. I am not invisible here people.
And I might add, I am in compliance with Arizona state law on this one. A head light and a rear reflector and youíre good as gold sundown to sun up.
"Thanks, Iíll get a new battery." I let him off the hook. Any more of this Ďsirí shit and Iím gonna friggin puke.
Have all the drivers in Scottsdale been lobotomized? Are these fucking people blind? What the hell is going on around here? I start thinking about it and the only thing I can figure out is this.
I have a blinking tail light on my backpack. Iím on a road bike. So maybe the fact that my back is kinda flattened out points the light more skyward than backwards and thatís why people up here in Scottsdale donít see it. But, how do you explain the reflector and really bright headlight? Those two things by themselves would be hard to miss.
And somehow, these people manage to do just that.
Unfortunately, air shocks also leak. But it wonít fuck up your carpet when they do leak. May I suggest a rigid fork?
This just in from Joe. Itís bike related porn.
And the gnome tells me I should have said this to Bill, ""oh, why yes Bill, my ass is big. In fact, I'd say that my ass is about as big as your racing career was short".
Ouch. Is there a doctor in the house?
Yes my friend. We are like finely coiled serpents waiting for August to strike. Or maybe November. I will rule in November. Come November, you all will feel my wrath.
I don't know what the fuck is up with our present American talent pool and one day races across the pond. I just don't get it. I'm backing Fred Rodriguez from now on. He's going to be the one to deliver the goods for the boys back home.
Shit, its either that or just wait and see what falls out of the sky to knock Vaughters out of the Tour this year. I'm surprised he actually keeps going back.
What's it going to be this year? A meteor? A fire breathing dragon? A tidal wave?
It's like he's cursed.
Holy shit, thereís a lot going on in that letter. Yeah, Iíll be taking you up on that black lovin honey cakes. Iíll be up in your neck of the woods tomorrow night. Iím to meet El Gnome and Randini for some serious ass kicking. Donít tell snake, heís got it out for me I think. Something about an email I sent him where I told him I was gonna put him in the hurt locker. Fuck it, I see him and heís goin down.
Who the fuck am I kidding? Me against him is more one sided than you and Mercury. That reminds me, I guess Gord is still irked about that city limit sprint you took last year. And here I though time healed all wounds.
And I saw you helmet, or whatís left of it at the shop. At least it wasnít your penis that got you in trouble this time.
Iím a gonna tell you like it is: Fuck a bunch of this.
Is that clear enough for ya?
I did the around the mountain ride this morning, and do you know what Bill said about me? Do ya? He said, "My God, jonnyís ass is so big."
Next time I see him Iím putting him straight in the hurt locker. That son of a bitch.
Michele Bartoli wins Amstel Gold. He was due. He said, "Yes, this is the win I've been waiting for." You can read more of his reactions, and others at cyclingnews.
Here is some old reader mail from when my computer went tits up a few weeks back.
You can just tell this is an old one, talking about when I got stung by a bee in the most private of areas. OK, maybe not the most private. But itís got to be one of the worst places to get hit. I imagine right on you eyeball may be worse. I hope not to find out.
Right on man. Iím glad to hear youíre feelin the jersey. I wore mine this morning. I guess it wasnít "slimming" enough for Billís taste in men. That stinkiní homo.
It wasnít that I was ignoring ya, buddy. It just took me awhile to sort out what I could save from my fucked up corrupted system. Oh, it was great. Anyway, your sites are now linked.
Iíve met the xtracycle boys. Last year in Vegas. Good people, good product. I like what theyíre doing. Iíve got one of there, "honk if youíre a wuss in an S.U.V." stickers on my fridge back home.
I donít know much about balfa, but I feel as though Iím about too. That is one kick ass website. Makes this thing look like the joke that it is.
Check out this weeks mp3. Iíve got three songs by the false mcís. These guys are reworking the art form known as hip hop. They own.
Just think, if I wasnít such an idiot, I would have been one of the first websites to blow up that pic. As is stands now, Iím about 332 in line, right behind Velonews. Am I on the ball? No. My computer fucks up and I donít get around to posting the link until ten days after it stops being funny. I suck. Thank you.
Can I just ride home from work once in my lifetime without almost getting killed by some moron in a car? Is that to much to ask? I just want to ride without some asshole yelling, honking, swerving or even fucking looking at me. God damn idiots out there, man. Fucking unreal.
I ran into an old friend today, Iíll call him "D". Heís just become a full time fire fighter here in Phoenix. Talk about a hard job. You wonít see me doing that anytime soon.
Tonight I hit up Fryís instead of the closer Albertsonís grocery store. You wouldnít think much of it, but for me it was a grand old time. Many of you out there went out and had fun on your Saturday night. Me, I went to Fryís.
All I have to do now is fall asleep so I can get up and ride in the morning. And I better not see any idiots in their cars contemplating a little swerve action. It could get ugly.
You gotta check out this site sent in by David. Too cool. They got maybe the best name in all of cycling terminology, just riding along. The good olí JRA. A phrase made famous by legions of clueless warrenty seeking losers all over the world. And itís a real boss site too.
The Dairy Queen next to Domemicís Cycling on Mill Avenue closed itís doors forever today.
No more ice cream for the fat boy. No more sodas. No more fucking dilly bars. No more nothin.
Itís a shame really. The IGA market is gone, the record store, the subway. Gone are the super salad, jams and sacks, all good restaurants. Itís all gone now. Everything around here is closing down and being replaced by some chain store bullshit.
Itís just us, the tattoo parlor and the jewish center left on the block. I canít even make a joke with that.
I canít tell you if itís true or not, just that itís funny. No work yet on the authenticity of this over at truth or fiction. Even if it is bullshit, itís great bullshit.
How you feelin? I feel lucky.
It'll take till the beginning of next week, but many of you are getting a little something from the big man. The General Aggravation jerseys are packed, shipped and sent. And with new mystery stickers included.
Check out my man RJ.'s webpage. He's in Belgium and I'm not. He is fast and I am not. He rolled his truck tearing ass out of a parking lot at a Slayer concert. I haven't managed that yet.
My favorite pic on the site? Why, it's the one with all the happy little garden gnomes. I had no idea his sphere of influence was so great. To know him is to love him.
I slept in to the glorious hour of 8:00 am, enjoyed a leisurely breakfast washed down with what had to be a gallon of coffee. Then I rode for four hours in and around Cave Creek. You fuckers up here in the north end of town are really on to something. Nice friggin riding.
And even though it was well into the 90's, I can't complain a bit about sweating like a pig after the first ten minutes. Sweating in slimming. I've earned the right to, after freezing my fucking balls off all winter.
On the way out to seven springs, I stopped to ask a woman about this huge statue in her front lawn. I just had to know. You've all seen it, it's on the left in the last neighborhood you go by, (until Dale Webb builds the next one) It's a 40 foot high Corn Katchina. When I asked what it did, she told be it, "helped to insure a bountiful harvest."
I didn't bother to point out to her that there isn't any corn for miles. It wouldn't have mattered anyway.
Here is a joke my Dad sent me.
How to Bathe the Cat
And here I thought he loved animals.
There is this sunset outside my window right now that is among the finest I've ever seen. Arizona had the best in the county, of that much I'm sure. Idaho may have the worst. Not that I would know, mind you, I'm not there anymore. It's like I escaped from fucking prison coming down here.
And now it's actually raining. I can't believe it. The north valley kicks ass.
What's the word? Thunderbird.
The General Aggravation jerseys are in and I'm shipping out those mother fuckers like a wild man. Yee haa.
I can only hope my little pill party of a website can help teach others about the beauty of watching a hot chick kiss a huge phallus in the summer sun.
God bless America.
Is it true you're starting to ride well if you cannot ever seem to eat enough or sleep enough? Because baby, I just can't do either these days. Like the "man from the mitten" jimbo told me, you keep riding all the way to Tempe and back everyday and you'll be flyin' in no time.
I hope he's right. If he isn't, I might just have to kill him in the face.
What's better than winning a gold medal in the special olympics?
I don't know how you manage to entertain the shit outta me with your never ending tails of woe, but baby, don't ever stop.
Every time I start to think that my life sucks ass, I get a letter from you and I feel like I just won a million dollars. Nah, not that much, maybe I feel more like I found ten bucks laying in the road. Not a million, that would be way to good.
And good luck with that whole scarring thing. I think I speak for everyone who reads this page when I say, you're in our prayers.
This next letter isn't so fun, but please do read it.
I'm posting this a little late as the crit is happening right now, but it's the thought that counts. I hope you're doing OK, Rick. Good luck.
Ahem, ladies and gentlemen, that is a drunkcyclist jersey that man is wearing. Fuck-n-a right it is.
On the way home tonight a woman pulled up along side me at a red light and said, "Excuse me, excuse me? I couldn't see you back there, and I'm paying attention."
I'm looking at her with her two kids in her sport utility vehicle. Yeah, those two play soccer. I say, "Don't I have a blinking taillight?"
"And it's working? It's still on, right?" I turn my backpack towards her to showcase the little blinking beauty I stole from the gnome. (That's right buddy, I'm never giving it back. Ho ho.)
"Yes, it's working."
Jesus fucking Christ on the cross, this is a long traffic light. Turn green, damnit, save me. "Um, OK. Sorry?", I offer because I just can't think of anything else to say to this dimwit.
"You just be careful" she tells me as the light finally turns green and she readies herself to be terrorized by the road some more. Oh God, it's so overwhelming all the lanes and what are these dials for?
I feel lucky to be alive with people like that driving around out there.
It's an oldie, but man is it a goodie. Click here and say Weeeee!.
Every seen bike with two wheel drive? You have now.
I think that picture is defiantly helping me to greater appreciate the LPGA. I never knew it was anywhere near that cool. Good times.
Sounds good to me. Back on the saddle, or back on the bar stool. Just getting some kit time, ladies. I'll have another Budweiser, thank you.
And this is coming from a guy in Texas. So much for the Texas Tornado, eh Bob? Fuck it, I hate to say it, but with Ulrichs hurt knee and the emphasis on time trailing in this years Tour, I think Armstrong has this one about sewn up already. Who can beat him?
Today was an absolute mother load of email. Good thing too, because my head is turned inside out. Isn't working fun?
I'm checking out this band called The False Mcs, or the Bandit Kings. They apparently have two names. I'm all for it. They've got a website with some downloads and shit. I've got a few of their songs I'm rocking. I'll post one maybe tomorrow.
I'm too busy listening to them to upload anything right now.
I got a letter that pretty much sums up that freak-o God nazi I linked yesterday. I just can't figure out these conservative Christian nut jobs. So full of hate. They should be full of liquor. It's more fun. Anyway, read the letter.
Yeah man, I remember how to party all right. I just forgot how to recover. How the hell did I used to do this all the time? I feel like I got hit my a car. Maybe I did?
I probably wouldn't remember it either way.
Good letter, you hit the nail right on the head. This muy loco jesus freaks get all gnarly and start weirding out on public television and what ever the fuck else they don't directly control.
I'm glad to see I still have an even money bet going on Lance getting bested in another two up sprint at Amstel Gold. How many times has he lost in a 2-up? Like about four times now. There was Uchacov in the Tour, I think and then Boogard and Dekker that last two year. Maybe it was only three then. It'll be four in another week then.
Good luck with the whole riding like a hard man thing. When you figure out how to do it, let me know. I've been trying unsuccessfully for years. Big Gay Randy says it's because I'm soft, but fuck him, he lives in the woods. What the hell does he know?
How do you like them apples?
Mudflap wrote me with his favorite quote off of the pantsman.com. It reads like so: "At the end of the day, it's not how pretty you look scoring runs, as long as the crowd can hear the welcoming sound of leather on willow."
That guy is out of his fucking mind, totally over the top and funny as shit. I can't believe the shit I'm reading over there. Classic. The absolute tops. I couldn't be that funny in a million fucking years I swear to God.
And I thought the Salt Mine was a rough gig. I don't know shit.
I have no idea what to say about this.
Itís hard to be creative when youíre head hurts like this. I had myself a good old time at Casey Moore's last night. Perhaps too good of a time actually. I feel as though someone placed a rock on my head as I slept. Maybe an anvil or something like that. Whatever it was, it squished my brains all together into some kind of much. Very painful mush.
I tried to make the Sunday ride this morning. I turned off the alarm at 6 am and stumbled into the bathroom. And I mean stumbled. I was still drunk off my ass. I couldn't even make it down the hallway without bouncing off the walls a few times. I figured I wasn't going anywhere in that condition. So I drank some water and went back to sleep.
My tremendous hangover didn't even kick in till around 11:00 am. I don't think I sobered up enough to know I was hungover till then. Oh, I had my fun last night. That's for damn sure.
I see lameking is back up and running. Thank God, I was needing more distractions in my life. Spooner had put up some good mp3Ďs this week. I recommend you check them out. Right after you check out mine.
So what else is new? Most of my predictions for this year have bombed. Sank like fucking stones in a river they did. Paulo Bettini won Liege - Bastogne - Liege today. Read all the live coverage over here at cyclingnews.
Well kick me in horseshit and call me smelly. I never saw that coming in a million years. But I was smart enough not to back Armstrong the the hilly classic of the Ardennes. Heíll be up there in Amstel Gold, like probably second best. But he ainít the same man who once won Liege.
I also thought Gorgeous George would finally do it in Paris - Roubaix for some reason or the other. Instead he ended up ass over teakettle in a fucking roadside ditch. Goddamn heartbreaker that was. Just awful. Life is not fair.
And who had heard of Tom Boonen before last week?
I hadn't. I figured that guy would hand up about one water bottle and that would be the end of that. I didn't give him until the second feedzone. A name for the future everyone says now. The next Johan Museeuw, who, by the way, is a fucking pimp.
Youíd think a webpage where you get to rate breast implants would totally kick ass. I found the whole thing a little disappointing. Check it out yourself.
And fuck this guy.
Ally McBeal goes bye bye. Ho Ho fuck you Clasista. Go starve yourself some more.
And, you can also get your penis enlarged on that site. If I canít win bike races, at least I can have a dick like a base ball bat.
Iím redoing the sites of the week section with some new shit. Donít forget to check out the Team Ireland Cycling apparel. Itís boss. And banged up is one of my faves of all time. Sick shit. Just plain fucking gross.
"A handful of tidy units were spotted in the early hours inside the bus station on the first day of tour. In particular, a brunette with a fantastic Levi 501-arse and firm, well-rounded breasts caught my attention. I pulled out the clipboard and immediately slotted her in as Draft Pick #1..."
If you think thatís funny, check out the rest of the nonsense over at one of this weeks pics, the pants man. Itís about the funniest shit Iíve read in my entire life.
Sounds like fun, but Iíll be nowhere near that place this summer. Shit, I just want to be loved.
Why is it my mind turn to shit and totally goes blank as soon as I sit infront of the computer every night? All the great ideas I had for this update are gone and all I can think about is food, boobs and sleeping.
Iím a fucking mess.
You cockswilling son of a bitch. You go to hell, you go to hell and you die. I'll post the fucking picture. Jeez. Just click here to see it.
You want a little set up? El Gnome is the short little bastard on the left in green. Just look at 'em, you know he means business. I almost don't feel so bad getting dropped by a man such as that. Almost.
Iíd post more pics, but my hard copy of programs like photoshop and the like are in Idaho where I canít very well reload them on this machine. Life is really a bitch sometimes. Iíll have to find some new program that I can use to resize the images. But not tonight.
This in from Jeremy. Man hops up 747 steps of Eiffel Tower and doesnít dab once. Click here for more. Click over here to see what the weather in Moscow, Idaho looks like these days. Yeah, Iím hurrying back up there.
Laura from Holland sends in this link. Be warned, I think there is something in there for the ladies if ya know what Iím sayiní. Shirtless male to be exact, so lets try and keep it in our pants at work, eh Dru?
Richard says, "this is true amateur porn you got to tell you readers about this one!" WhatĎs he talking about? HeĎs talking about jen-dave.com.
Iím not sure, but Iíd bet that girl works at the Dairy Queen on Mill and 10th. Either that or itís her sister. Her younger sister.
right on man, great to hear your birthday is right next to mine. Fucking pretty cool. I've never met anyone with the same birthday as me, or even close. Till now anyways.
I had a few drinks on Thursday night, but I'm saving up my punishment for Saturday. Thatís when all hell is going to break lose Iím sure. Oh, Iím going to regret this.
Iíll leave you with one more letter. Just because I can.
You know, you're right. Everyone should love porn and bikes. And I'll try and not let my meatloaf.
Hot damn. What a day. I started it off right, at about 10:00 am when I got up. Fuck this gettin up early crap, it's my day off. And it's my birthday.
Yes, even I age a little every now and then.
In case you're wondering how old I am, let my put it like this. There is a two and a three in my age now. And it ain't twenty three.
I went for a ride with AJ, the great Blue Berry today. He took me out to his usual stomping grounds and proceeded to do just that. Now I know why they call it "roller coaster". I stopped just short of losing my lunch by using the end of my cassette with 25 teeth on it for long periods of time.
I had dinner at the Texaz Grill. I've been there on my birthday for the past six years. Can you believe that shit? They even have a webpage. Click here to see it.
No good email to post today. But we do have porn.
I'll be saucing it up over at Casey Moores on Saturday night if anyone feels like buying me drinks. You have been warned.
Fuck it; have at the reader mail.
I'm all down with the Museeuw is God thing, but I might just draw the line at stalking. Did you see that thing in Cycle Sport where old Johan is remembering the glory days (like last week) when he was coming up in the ranks? He said "when I could push 525 watts, I knew I was ready to win a classic."
Yeah, I guess so.
I'm hoping to reach 5.25 myself this year. A man has got to have his goals. Mine are pathetic and therefore obtainable with minimal effort. Call it what you will, I say I'm a success story.
A guy named Mark wrote in to tell me he got 16 out of 16 on the quiz I posted yesterday. Shit man, I guess I've been wasting my best lines on chicks with dicks all these years. I shouldn't complain. If my lines worked, I'd be doing my own little crying game thing in the corner. Either that or sticking my head in a gas oven.
I like the part of your site counting down the days to Ragbrai. My God, it's like some kind of addiction isn't it? I saw on the map that we're going through Titonka on the third day this year. I knew a guy who used to say that when he farted. I guess maybe it means something else around those parts. At least I hope so. Oh, and I did ride to work today. It took me three hours round trip. Ain't I slower than shit? Jesus I suck. But at least I wasn't in a car on Tempe bike to work day.
Check this out, it's the road to moab. Dot com even.
I mean, fucking A how do you like them apples I said? Jonny's back in business. Like Tall Paul told me tonight, I can always count on jonny to act like a dick.
Oh, it's love alright.
Speaking of love, I'm getting damn sick and tired of all this working. I think I've put more hours in in the last week than I have this entire year. Fuck me runnin', it sucks. I've got to get out of the Salt Mine and on to a bike soon or I might just kill somebody. Two days without any riding and I feel like a total failure. I man can't live like this.
I've got a new wheel on my single speed. Mavic 517 and a Chris King hub, just like the one that got stolen only this is laced three cross instead of radially. I've got a new set of Ringle RPM lites on my geared bike just fucking staring at me. Ride me jonny, ride me. These wheels look damn sexy with a brand new pair of Ritchey Alpha Bite 2.35's and a new XTR cassette. I'll let you know how they ride when I get some miles on them. Initial impressions are very positive.
I even have a new fork for my road bike. It showed up at the shop today, maybe I'll get it on my bike tomorrow. I went on the cheap and got a Profile BMC. Not that its a bad fork, it just isn't an Onzo Pro at twice the price. I figure at a svelte 200 lbs. a fork with an aluminum steer tube might not be a bad idea. I really don't enjoy flex all that much. And don't thing I stopped with the fork. I've got a pair of profile bars, shallow drop of course and a new bone-toker stem as well.
I fiddles around with a Chris King and a Record headset today for awhile. They're still on my workbench right now, just sitting there. They both kick ass. I think I'm going with the Chris King, but fuck me that Campy one is boss. I've never owned either, not in threadless anyway, and I figure you can't go wrong no matter which one I chose. I'll let you know how it goes.
It's good to be back in the saddle my friends. Let's hope I don't run into any more little problems in the near future.
To borrow a phrase from that link you sent me, "A trashy girl and a trashy bike, what more could you ask for?" And I'll find a good throwing bottle for all those assholes out there on the roads who want to kill me.
Give this one a shot, slugger. Be warned, it's a lot harder than it looks. So, take the test. Just click here.
You want a joke? I got jokes.
I don't know what this means, but it showed up in my mail box so I'm posting it.
"We just looked up Hincapie and it turns out in Latin it means Bridesmaid."
Ouch. Maybe that explains it. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.
Did anyone else see him take that header into the ditch Sunday morning? I just about spit my oatmeal all over RJ's carpet. Holy shit, that was so wrong on so many levels. That poor bastard. I mean, c'mon. He looked fucking great out there. I don't think he would have caught Museeuw in a thousand years, but he had second place all sewn up. Even if Steffen Wesemann did bridge up the him and Tom Boonen, I think Hincapie would have won the sprint for third.
But it's all academic now, isn't it.
Everyone's coming at me, jonny where ya stayin? Who's house are ya at? I'm at this guys house. He's billy fucking badass.
OK, I'm done. I just put in a 14 hour day and I can't see anymore. I tried to get through some of those emails tonight, but there is just to damn many of them. Don't fret all ya'll out there, I'll get to it. I always do.
And, the guy who wrote me from Ringle, I won't post your name (yet), I lost your email when I reloaded all this windows crap. Write me back buddy.
Oh hell. I've been around the fucking block with this Goddamn laptop this week. What in the hell is going on with this thing? I'm now to the point where I have to reinstall windows in its entirety. Good times.
On another note I had some bozos in a big green Suburban ride by me the other day on the way home from work and chuck a soda can at me. I was so impressed I waved. They pulled over down a side street, I guess to kick my ass or something. Like a 23-mile commute each way isn't kicking my ass enough. All four of them came back up behind me, gave me the horn and threw another soda at me a few minutes later. They missed both times.
Fuckin I hate people sometimes.
My computer is still totally fucked up. I've been reinstalling this and reinstalling that for a few hours here and there for days. I canít believe now hard it has been to get this thing back together. I petty much was ready to just write off this whole fucking website thing a few times.
But, I'm still here soda throwing morons be damned to hell.
I hope all of you got your taxes in. I know how much fun that can be. Oh, it's a fucking blast, isn't' it?
I should mention I've had some real weird issues with email. I don't' really know if about 40 of them sum-bitches got to their respective recipients or not. I wrote back to a whole ton of people and I just can't tell if it worked or not. So, if I seem totally rude, and you haven't heard back from me just write again.
My God, Friday already. Amazing week. I'm back at the Salt Mine. Yee Haa. I rode my bike down to the shop the other day. It's twenty three and one half miles each way. If I can keep it up, I'll be a hard man like Ham Fist in no time.
But I'll probably crack and start driving my car to work. Why not? That's what everyone else in this stinking Valley does. Each and every day for the entire year.
I want to be just like them.
Nah, fuck that shit.
It has been a bitch this week though. I am a full on internet junkie. So when I'm driving 1200 miles, sleeping in the woods and then getting back to no internet service, wellÖ It isn't all that good for me.
Like I emailed a friend of mine today, I can't wait for Sunday. Paris - Roubaix baby! Who do you think will place higher, Gorgeous George or Fast Freddy Rodriguez?
Check this out one time. It's The Agreeable World of the Addiscombe Cycling Club. Really.
Mudflap my good man, I am a trainwreck. A wasted shell of a man, a nobody, a has been. No, seriously, my wife is in law school up in Idaho. I was going to wait a year to get instate and take classes in the fall. It's just to damn expensive to pay out of state tuition for the two of us. So, this year I was going to just work and hang out, drink beer and ride bikes.
I was up there for awhile and it's a small, boring town with no riding for about 13 months of the year due to shitty weather and the like. Maybe I'm exaggerating just a little. I guess you can mountain bike up there for a good 3 - 4 months and ride road for longer if you enjoy the rain, the cold, and the cold rain. In that order, every fucking day.
I had to come down here to make a few bucks and ride. I was going nuts up there this winter. Shitty weather and small paychecks do not a happy jonny make. People I know up there drive all the way over to Seattle to race. Fuck a bunch of that.
So, that's my story right now, pretty much. Did it bring a tear to your eye? It did mine, my brother, it did mine.
You guys do that year round? Why the hell am I living here in Arizona? I don't mind telling you, I've been waiting to go back since the day I left. It really is a little slice of heaven. Why just the other day, Dru and I were reminiscing about the good times.
This year, we might just have to fly out. The drive is a whole other level of punishment. I'm not sure I'm man enough to pull that off again.
I've got to find a way to update this thing more often. Till next week then, good night!
Two days behind the wheel and I'm back in Arizona. Flagstaff to be exact. I went riding with Big Gay Randy. I had a bike with gears and he was on a single speed. It didn't matter. He dropped me like nobodies business climbing up Mt. Elden. So not much has changed in that department.
When I really started wheezing, he asked me what happened to my form. I thought you'd be riding better, after a few months in Tucson this winter. What's going on, fat boy, be said. He's a dick, so not much had changed in that department.
I saw the Snake today. He saw me driving down the road, and pulled a u-turn to day hi. He asked me why I hadn't updated in two days. I told him it was because I've been driving for two days and slept in my car last night at a gas station in Nephi, Utah. It's hard to update the website in situations like that. Snake and his roommate Bensy have volunteered their internet connection, so here we are.
I've got a ton of email to plow through and a drive to Phoenix tomorrow. Fuck it, it's a life.
Check this out. How do you like that action? Another big win for Andrea Tafi and another fourth place for George Hincapie.
So far this month I've had eleven hits on the site through the search string "george hincapie gay". I have no fucking idea how.
I'm pretty fucking stoked on the jerseys. It's way to cold up here in the frozen, stupid northland to wear it out except under four other items of clothing. Brrr.
But, next week, in Phoenix, I'll be rocking that shit. Hard.
And shit like this just plain scares me. I want my Mommy.
And didn't I see this guy on bang bus? Not that I'm checking out the guys. He just looks familiar. Makes you wonder how amateur all this shit really is. Like not really very amateur at all I'd say.
Our friend Laura from Holland sends in another fine link. Thanks to Laura and enjoy! kinghost.com/asian/asiaxxx/asiax10/asiaafg.html
Fuck it, lets get some of that reader mail.
Well, I'm certainly not depressed anymore. It's like someone opened a window around here. Oh, what a breath of fresh air.
I'm glad to hear you like the site. I'm up here in Moscow, Idaho right now freezing my ass off. Tomorrow I drive south to sunshine, baby. It's a long haul too. Jesus, it's like it lasts forever.
The whole forest closure thing is a bitch. It looks like a few mountain bike races might get shitcanned in all that too. What a drag.
Oh yeah, your site is now linked.
I'll be driving all the way back to Phoenix on Monday. It'll probably take me part of Tuesday as well. So, no updates for two days! We'll see how it goes. Until then, I've got some new mp3s up and sites of the week as well. I even added a few new sites in the bike and not bike section. Rock the mullet.
Check this one out. It's been around for awhile, but maybe you haven't done it yet. Or, maybe you really should give it another go and improve that score. I don't mind telling you that I fucking bombed it. Badly. I mean, you'd think I would know this shit. Click here for the beer test. How good are you?
Here's a little something for ya to read. These may or may not have been written by one Dave Berry. I'm just too lazy to try and figure out all these email internet hoax things. Fuck it, it's funny no matter who wrote it.
1. You will never find anybody who can give you a clear and compelling reason why we observe daylight-savings time.
2. You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests you think she's pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment.
3. The most powerful force in the universe is gossip.
4. The one thing that unites all human beings, regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status or ethnic background, is that, deep down inside, we ALL believe that we are above-average drivers.
5. There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday. That time is age 11.
6. There is a very fine line between "hobby" and "mental illness."
7. People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.
8. If you had to identify, in one word, the reason why the human race has not achieved, and never will achieve, its full potential, that word would be "meetings."
9. The main accomplishment of almost all organized protests is to annoy people who are not in them.
10. If there really is a God who created the entire universe with all of its glories, and He decides to deliver a message to humanity, He WILL NOT use, as His messenger, a person on cable TV with a bad hairstyle.
11. You should not confuse your career with your life.
12. A person who is nice to you, but rude to the waiter, is not a nice person.
13. No matter what happens, somebody will find a way to take it too seriously.
14. When trouble arises and things look bad, there is always one individual who perceives a solution and is willing to take command. Very often, that individual is crazy.
15. Your friends love you, anyway.
16. Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.
Fuck that last one. big jonny don't dance. It's like a drunken water buffalo half cocked on tranquillizers. Not pretty.
Whew. I did it. I sent out all the fucking jerseys. I only have the red Morning After design in stock right now, so if you ordered a blue General Aggravation, just hang tight. I should have them next week. Then you can have at those too. I should have stuck a note in with the jerseys explaining that, but I didn't. Oh well.
Now can I go ride my bike?
Since all the drunkcyclist stickers I had got stolen when my car was broken into I didn't have any to stick in with the jerseys. You know, a little bonus from unkie jon. But, I did squirrel up some old shit I had around from the trade show and who knows where else. So, I just started throwing odd, various stickers in with the jerseys as I packed them up today. You might get something interesting and you might get something you throw in the trash. Some of you got some seriously cool shit, so I hope you like it.
Let me hit you off with this little piece of knowledge, if you want it to start raining after three days of sun, take the fenders off your bike. Then it will rain and rain hard. Just like it did today.
Did I care? Did I stop riding? No. I went riding anyway. Damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead.
Any plans I had for a great big old update today have been thrown right in the crapper.
The Morning After jerseys have arrived.
The General Aggravation ones will be ready next week. That's just the way it goes. I'll be spending most of today shipping those bad boys to ya'll. Please hold off with the "do you have any extras?" emails. I have a short list for any extras that might pop up. You'd know if you were already on the list.
OK, time to start stuffing these fuckers in the mail.
I'm not sure yet, but I think this may be the bike that gets me on a set of disc brakes. What a fucking dream boat.
Once there was a race called the Squealer. Last year I couldn't go due to a fucking job. This year I couldn't go due to a fucking funeral. What the fuck, am I cursed? Read all about how fucking great it was. Fuck.
Once you've recovered from reading about the Squealer, check this shit out. It's Team Ireland Cycling. I'm not sure yet where they're going with the whole team thing, but it's one hell of a sharp looking kit. I'd rock it. Hell yeah.
And this is some of the same guys that bring you the fine ass shit over at on-one. How cool is that?
Thanks to marco from london, I now want to kill myself. You can too. Just click here and prepare to be amazed. Don't be a pussy, either. Make sure you actually look at all the galleries. There are some real gems buried in there. It's up to you to find them and not vomit in the process.
What else, oh yeah. The chatroom is dead, but it kinda always was. I haven't figured out what to do with that thing yet. I've put up a new gallery today, number 25. Good stuff. Really. Number 26 not to far behind.
Also, upon my victorious return to the northland, I've found a pile of request for stickers. Since all the stickers got jacked when my car got broken into, I don't have shit to send anyone. I own something to Jeff, Cale, and Chip. I can either send you couple of bucks back that you sent, or send you some stickers as soon as I have the new ones in stock. Email me and tell me what you want me to do.
It never ceases to amaze me how some of the most bizarre search strings end up pointing people to this site. How in the fuck some of these work is way beyond me. I've decided to start compiling some of the best one's for your enjoyment. Like, why should I have all the fun. Check these out.
Does any of that scare you as much as it scares me? And who knew George Hincapie was gay? Why am I always the last one to hear this shit? How did I get out of the loop?
Yesterday I dragged the fixed gear out of the back room where I left it this winter I when I fled for the sunshine of Tucson. The poor old girl, she sat there covered with road grime quietly awaiting my return. I filled a bucket with hot soapy water and went at her with a brush. Tender loving care. I took the fenders off; won't be needing these till next winter. Adjusted the hubs, trued up the wheels and peeled off the old clinchers. I found something newer in the junk pile of tires.
The rear wheel had about had it. Almost ready to give up the ghost I'm afraid. She gave it hell, she did, I'll tell you that much. The hub has been a lost cause for as long as I can remember. The kind you just fill with new bearings and grease but run loose 'cause the races are so shot to hell it'll never run smooth. Now the rim is cracking at the eyelets in about four places. An old Mavic MA. Chromed even. Bad ass looking. I'm gonna keep at her until she just fucking explodes on me.
When I get back to Phoenix, I'll be looking into one of those new hubs from Surly and a new rim, Mavic of course. It's going to be a sweetheart, one that will last through the ages. Just like this last one did.
But, the wheel is lasting for now. She's humming right along. Put in an hour and a half yesterday and two hours today. Two hours on the fixy, and I feel it baby, oh do I ever. Fixed gears are cool.
I'll be posting this one a day late and a dollar short as I cannot log on to the server to upload it. I hate it when this happens. I used to get pissed about these types of things, but now I just have a cocktail and go to bed.
But, by having to wait I can now link to the favorites for Ronde van Vlaanderen this coming Sunday. Bring on the Classics, my good man.
One mans story of triumph and tragedy at Redlands reads like a dime store novel. A boy from a small town makes it in the big city. Or, you could also say it reads like this tale of broken wheels and shattered dreams.
How many flats did you have anyway, four? Five? Two every day? I thought up a new nickname for ya: Flat Eric. Like this dude right here.
Not only do I notice a strong resemblance physically, but you are the new undisputed King of all Flats as well. I wonder what's in store for you in the future? More flats perhaps? Lets hope not. The world cannot afford to keep supplying you tubes. Think of all the natural resources squandered on your tube and tire needs. And who needs to see another picture of a cute little sea lion strangled by one of your spent tubes, or another beached whale with a blow hole full of your old tires. It's too much I tell you.
Stop the madness.
Think of the children.
I'm editing together a few emails from my man RJ, putting together the good stuff and taking out the crap about swimming pool maintenance and where the fire works are hidden. What's left is pretty good. He's been in Belgium for about a week and already racing. Here he's telling me about his first race.
I'm glad to see they're making a man out of you over there. You are now my bet for the state championship. No one around here will be working as hard as you this summer. How can they, when it's a hundred and twenty in the shade?
Well maybe Ham Fist. He'll be pounding it out all summer. Big miles for the big fist. But, maybe he'll be blown out by then. He hasn't taken a break off the bike since December of '94. He'll be due in a few months.
God damn, where does this leave me? Drinking beer at 3:45 in the afternoon is where. The bar is empty and wonderful. For now anyway. I'm sure the local riff raff will begin to arrive shortly and start crimping my style.
Went to meet my new accountant today. The old one is laid up after a nasty automobile accident and useless to me at tax time. This one is a woman. She is a tax professional. She thought the name of my website was "cute". I thought she was cute. How little she knows. I wonder what she'll be saying once she gets a look at this pill party I'm running over here.
Half of this shit is all lies and half is the God's honest truth. It's up to you to figure out which is which.
Watching the way the light dances off the bottles lined up behind the bar and listening to this dumb fuck next to me, I realize something. I'm getting pretty sick of porn. I mean, c'mon, how long can I continue to look at this shit? Maybe I should actually try to write something decent every once in while. Maybe I already am?
If I pretend real hard, it is the writing that keeps bringing 'em back to drunkcyclist. And not the porn. And certainly not all these God awful videos of girls fucking horses. What kind of demented fuck looks at this stuff?
The answer is, I'm afraid to say, is all of us. We are all to blame. All sinners are we. No one gets out of here alive. Or maybe they do? Does it matter either way in the end? All I know is that I've got seven bucks riding on the bar and full pint of pale ale. After that, I couldn't give a shit.
The guy next to me tells the bartender, "Shit falls down the ladder." Yeah, tell me about it, bucko. I pick up my coin, down my drink and head for the door.
It's April Fools day. Good times. I hope some of you out there had fun with it.
You know, it is a shame when a larger conglomerate buys up the little guy companies that were always more fun to begin with and changes them into something completely different. But we wouldn't know what that's like in the bike business, would we? Click here to read all about it.
If I wasn't so stupid and lazy, my site would have fun April Fools things going on too. But, I am too stupid and lazy. No fun around here. You, stop having fun. You hear me?
I just put in a PB effort. You know, a personnel best. Like the guys who really pay attention to that whole racing and training thing. But mine was in a car. Driving one to be exact.
My longest stint driving had been 14 hours. I had done the Phoenix to Denver thing a few times in both directions. Not to bad. I have also driven out to Pennsylvania from Arizona a few times, putting in 12 - 14 hour shifts behind the wheel.
Yesterday, on Easter, I drove from Phoenix, Arizona to Moscow, Idaho straight through. Solo. It took me twenty one and a half hours. I stopped for gas and to take a leak about ten times, but never for more than ten minutes or so.
That's my new record. I've got two friends that have gone farther than that. One from Phoenix to Cleveland, Ohio and the other to Detroit, Michigan. Those guys really racked up the hours. I'm not sure I have it in me to go much further than I did. I'm not sure I'd want to try.
In the Sweet Suffering Christ Department, we have another fun filled installment from Bosco Clontarf. He likes to go big. Real big. He doesn't' just send me an email. Oh no. He sends me a fucking manuscript.