Thanks to the twenty odd people that have pointed out that yes, I am an idiot, and that yes, the story about Daisy the Wonder Dog was absolute unmitigated horseshit. I pulled a Homer on that one.

Duuhhhhhhooooooooogggggghhhhhh.

This is where I’ll be checking out the to good to be true, forwarded fifteen times emails I get, like the one on Daisy the wonder dog. More like Daisy the fucking lie.

I took the bait, posted the story. Fuck the cute stories from now on. If I can see the boobs I link the boobs. End of story.

Thank you.

I went out for a little spin yesterday in the north country. I had never spent much time out by Butler Avenue when I lived in Flagstaff in the early 90’s. Why would I? There ain’t shit happening out on the east side of town. It seems there is a whole lot more houses and people out that way these days, it just seems to go on forever.

So, I’m cruising around, looking at the big old houses. They’ve even got a nice little stock tank, er, I mean "lake" back in there too. Some of the houses, the biggest and nicest are close to the stock tank, I mean lake. One in particular I found amusing.

It’s a palace. Huge spread. Four cars out front. A big four door full size Chevy, a Lincoln Continental with California plates and some various SUV’s. One of which had a bumper sticker that read, "don’t PHX FLG".

I started laughing pretty good about that one. Don’t Phoenix Flagstaff, eh? You’re the mother fucker that’s doing it! Don’t you get it, rich guy?

You’re the one with the big house where there used to be trees. You’re the one with the big ass gas guzzling cars. You’re the one with California plates. You’re the one fucking it up, man. It’s you and no one else.

From: D. Glenn Subject: I need to sell it TURNER DHR FRAMESET... Price: $1600 USD Email: Dragon - d.glenn@brooksglobal.net Location: Valencia, CA,91355 Phone#: 661-733-0997 (after 5PM Pacific) I need to sell my bad mutha of a bike. New sponsorship means in with the new and out with the old. This baby is WONDERFUL and can do ANYTHING you ask it to. you all know and love the bike and the company, the one, the only Turner DHR. Brand new pivots, bushings and bearings and paint. (olive drab/flat black $1600 US. Brand new in box 03 Super T ($2200 US) or complete bike for $2800 US E-mail for a Pic. E-mail: Dragon Ph.: 661-257-6630 Location: Valencia, CA Price: $1600-2800 US

And how about that Vuelta? Down to the last stage.

I feel bad for Heras. I can’t imagine how much it must hurt to lose on the last day. So, so close. Brings to mind Lemond winning the Tour and Garzelli winning the Giro in the final TT.

I like it when it goes down to the wire. Now, that’s good footy.

Saturday, September 28, 2002

bent asses   I   cheyenne silver   I   brianna banks

After a couple of hours spend knocking my dick in the dirt via single speed, I feel like a million bucks. I’ve discovered riding with friends on cross bikes leads to hard times on flat fire roads. But, get to the single track and everything is gravy.

I ran into my man Garro at the bar and found out I’ve been "volunteered" for security at the single speed worlds. Great I told him. What the fuck do I care, right?

I really don’t expect any problems. Get a bunch of like minded folks together out in the middle of nowhere for a weekend of riding and drinking, what could go wrong?

Aside from everything I mean.

Nah, it’s going to be great. I can’t wait to snap in half like a twig out on the course and come around just in time to start boozing it up like a fucking rock star. Remember, day and night points are important in the overall classification.

So I’m hanging out at D-bo’s pad. It’s a frigging shack, an apartment trimmed out of part of an old garage. The best part of it is the low ceiling, low door ways and all around miniature stature of the whole place.

Gnome watched me stumble around and tell me I look like Luke Skywalker handing out at Yoda’s pad.

Dolomite send it these two bad ass links. Link one and link two. You gotta check out these guys. Absolutely hilarious.

Friday, September 27, 2002

neriah davis   I   lisa boyle   I   zdenka

First night in Flagstaff. The gnome and I left Tucson at 10:00 pm, drove up and hit the rim at 1:30 am. Deciding it was a bit late to drop in on friends, we opted for camping off Rocky Park road.

We pulled off the road, threw out the sleeping bags. And gnome is like, "Dude, you smell that?" Of course I don’t I tell him.

Gnome smells corpse and we gotta move. Something is dead and rotting around here. Bags back in the trunk, dogs back in the car. Drive farther down the road.

Pull over again, throw out the bags for the second time. I’m dead tired and asleep in minutes. But not before I see one of the most spectacular shooting stars I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life.

Four am. Gnome says, "Jon, wake up. It’s raining."

I don’t know up from down for a minute. "Huh, what? Raining?" I feel my bag, it’s wet.

"Oh shit, dude. What do you want to do? Get in the car and go to town?"

The gnome tells me, "Well, I’m going back to sleep."

And he does.

He lays back down, and I say, "Well what the fuck did you wake me up for?"

I roll over and figure fuck it. I pull the bag up over my head so I can’t feel the rain drops hitting my face and go to sleep.

Turns out the dog story I linked is horse shit. Read about it here.

Thursday, September 26, 2002

stacey sanchez   I   linda o’neil   I   suzi simpson

Two days now with no morning ride. Sleep in till 7:00 am or so. Imagine that, being so fucked that seven am feels like sleeping in. Make coffee and start fucking with the computers.

How I love my reader mail. Bring it the fuck on you lousy bastards.

From: Tom Subject: Thirsty Mick and Paul fancied a pint or two but didn't have a lot of money. All together they had a staggering 50 cents between them. Paul said 'Hang on I have got an idea'. He went to the next butchers shop and came out with one large Sausage. Mick: 'Are you crazy? Now we haven't got any money left at all' Paul: 'Don't worry - just follow me' - and went into the next pub where he immediately ordered two pints and two large Jack Daniel's Mick: 'Now you have lost it - do you know how much trouble we will be in, we haven't got any money!! Paul: 'Don't' worry - I have got a plan - Cheers' They had their drinks. Paul said 'OK, I will now stick the sausage through my zip - you will go on your knees and put it in your mouth. Said and done - the landlord noticed it - went berserk and threw them out. They continued this, pub after pub after pub after pub, getting more and more drunk - all for free. At the 10th pub Mick said ' Mate - I don't think I can continue this any longer - I am pissed and my knees are killing me’ Paul: 'How do you think I feel? I lost the sausage in the 3rd pub!’

Good times. Reminds me of Vegas.

It looks like I’m going to Flagstaff tonight. The gnome and I are going for cool weather and a change of scenery. Fuck it, why the hell not?

Check this out.

From: paddy Subject: awesome story ALL HEROES ARE NOT PEOPLE James Crane worked on the 101st floor of Tower 1 of the World Trade Center. He is blind so he has a Yellow Labrador Retriever named Daisy. On September 11th, after the plane hit 20 stories below, James knew that he was doomed, so he let Daisy go, out of an act of love. With tears in her eyes she darted away into the darkened hallway. Choking on the smoke and fumes from the jet fuel, James was just waiting to die. About 30 minutes later, Daisy comes back into the room along with James's boss. Daisy leads James and his boss and about 300 other people out of the doomed building. But she wasn't through yet. She knew there were others that were trapped. Against James's wishes, Daisy runs back into the burning tower. On this run, she leads out 392 more people. Again, Daisy runs back into the building. This time, however, the building collapses. James hears this news and he falls to his knees in tears. A fireman appears, and in his arms is an injured, but still alive, Daisy. "She led us right to 273 trapped people just before she got injured", the fireman reported. Daisy suffered acute smoke inhalation, severe burns on all four paws, and a broken leg, but she saved the lives of 967 people. Mayor Giuliani awarded Daisy the Canine Medal of Honor of New York. Daisy is the very first civilian canine to win this honor. New York Times, 9/19/01

Wednesday, September 25, 2002

jamie   I   wet t-shirt   I   burger king

Sometimes you find something online that just stops ya dead in your tracks. I found that very site tonight. I’m not fucking kidding. Read this quote.

"Hmmmmmmm.... Where to start....Well sometime in late March of 1961, I was swimming around in pool of manly fluid, deep within a male teste…"

Um, yeah. Wow. crimsonlipps.com.

That ain’t no big red lips. Remember her? I wonder what ever happened to her site?

A quick google search only confirms my worst fears. Her site no longer exits. But, I did find an interview, on killuglytv.com. And, it’s got pics so you can feel my pain. Oh, I need a beer.

Another day, another dollar. Took the mountain bike out for the first time in far too many months. You just shouldn’t stay off the dirt for too long, it fucks with your head.

I went out and rode the 24 hours in the old pueblo circuit with the gnome. I am not the rockstar I was in February. When I actually rode that course with some speed in the legs. I was a mess today, just a fucking mess.

I actually had to walk sections. I couldn’t believe it. I think I might need to sleep in the next couple of days and just take it easy. Like, I should just sleep the next couple of days, period.

From: craig Subject: human shield hey brotha- check this shit out. humanshield.net this is our killerr rock band touring the streets of boston. we play sick rock and roll. built that stupid contraption and had two idiots pull us around. got kicked out of cambridge, and escorted back to boston by motor cycle cops. played yawkey way as thirty thousand drunk red sox fans exited fenway park, lit the town up bro---further proof that alcohol, bikes and rock and roll are a recipe for global dominance!! we're coming to a town near you!-human shield

Right on man, looks like you guys have the right idea. Anything on bikes sounds good to me right about now.

Hey, you think you got it bad? Read this next letter. Feel his pain.

From: Si Subject: back on the fucking road Oh yes. Roll on Roadkill, Heff has wheels [Now pumped up, I have this little doohickey that tells me I have no fucking clue what’s flat and what isn’t, Shite, Do I feel embarrassed.] Will ride. Will keyup cars. Will flip bird at all MERC and BMW drivers. Much better. also, check out cortosis.co.uk/downloads/Apology.mp3. I’d appreciate it if you mirrored tho, These dudes are running serious small overheads as it is. I know you ain’t exactly running high ones, but I’m posting the links to their shit everywhere, so every lil bit counts, yanno? No death Stories yet, the roads aren’t busy enough. Managed to get back to the UK from Missouri without a Tan, and thankfully with all my balls intact. Fucking hoosier trucks everywhere. jesus, Americans. you people. What the fuck. So, yeah, I got arrested in Illinois. For Domestic abuse. at 1am. No Shit. I’m walking back from this funky ass little bar place, babe in tow, and its corn festival in this little college town, its 1am, the streets are packed, we're on our way to another venue. I push her against the wall and kiss her. Bam. Head bounces off the trunk of the battlewagon and I’m still thinking I’m stood up straight. So, I’m sat in the back of the wagon, sobering up faster than a parachutist over a piranha tank, And 30 minutes later, the cop wheels the window down and tells me why I’ve been arrested, and that they will probably be letting me go in 5 minute, and that I understand if someone alleges domestic abuse they have to make an arrest. So, I’m totally fuckin shellshocked, and like. fuck. whoa. 5 minutes later, they drive me down to the station, and explain it. Domestic abuse has been dropped, now I’ve just got two charges of Disorderly conduct to contend with. They take my boots from me [www.newrock.es] and give me these shitty issue plimsolls, cut my goddamned pendant thingie from me that I’ve not taken off in the last goddamned 5 years, take all my shit from me and bung me in the drunk tank. By this time, I’m sober as a judge. Time passes. I’m shittin myself. I’m in a tank with a guy rockin back and forth talkin to himself, a guy on the phone shoutin at his Attorney that he’s gonna kill these MoFo pigs if they don’t let him out RIGHT NOW, and they look at me. They look at the black line around my next from a leather cord that ain’t there no more. they look at the prison issue plimsolls. they look at my PALE ass English face. They say 'What they get you for?' 'Domestic Abuse, originally' 'originally?' 'two counts Disorderly conduct now' I’m already pale as it is, man. I’m a net head, and englishman and a night biker. fucks sake. I’m allergic to sunshine. much more of a moontan, I'll be fuckin seethrough. I’m also shit scared, cos I’m way out of my depth and beginning to feel real fuckin ill from the 'drenaline in my system, So In smile and It looks like someone just cut a hole in my face because of this nasty red liquor shit we've been doing shots of in the bar. It looks like I’m there to be sectioned. I swear to go, even the lunatic on the phone shut the fuck up and backed off a little. Everywhere I go, I’m a scary ass MoFo. Even short, Lost, Frightened and drunk, I’m fucking dangerous. Rar. They take me out, take my glasses, take the most incredible mughshot you have ever seen, I look like a fucking Male Model in it, No shit. Fuckin A. Still got the fucker someplace. Its sweet as. took my prints, explained a few things, and by this time, my friends had driven over and bailed me out [50$] A true headfuck of a night.

You player, you pimp, you drunk piece of shit. Two wheels, one dark lord. And this is the cortosis webpage. They fucking rock. I mirrored the mp2 for your listening pleasure. I’ve run it about twenty times in a row already. I’m ready to start breaking shit in a minute.

Tuesday, September 24, 2002

damn   I   petite   I   girls

Black Mercedes SUV coming in tall and close. That is one hell of a big car. Windows tinted dark, but I see her, blissfully comfortable in what her husband provides. I’ll bet they remember her usual drink at Starbucks. She’s right on me, so close I’m concerned. This is no group ride where men bump shoulder jockeying for position, this it two blown out fucks spinning around on a Monday morning.

I think the soccer mom wants gnomes wheel. Fuck that, you can’t have it, I’m riding here. Brushing hip against car, I can’t believe she’s this close. She goes forward past the gnome. I keep my hands in the drops, not really believing how pinched I just got but proud realizing I never stopped pedaling through the whole ordeal. A bike lane never felt so small.

Traffic backed up at the light. She has to brake, ass still hanging out way into the bike lane. I’m still on gnomes wheel and it’s still tight as fuck. How am I making it through?

What are we going, twenty or so? This is dicey. Stupid fucks in stupid cars. She’s on us again, almost to the corner. Oh great, she’s turning right. Right into us. Gnome sits up, reaches down for a water bottle.

I don’t think he’s thirsty.

The bottle in his hand, arm comes back, eyes down field, the windup and blam. Bottle exploding against rear window as black Mercedes swings across our bow. I brake, laughing, he’s yelling something about fuck you stupid bitch and the car behind us is honking ‘cause we’re so out of line.

I’m so proud of the little bastard, give ‘em hell gnomey. Fuck each and everyone of you assholes honking at me. I couldn’t give a shit about you. I’m just relieved to be upright. Almost greased by some frigging clueless buttplug who probably never saw me.

If you can’t tell where the side of your car ends, you shouldn’t be driving. If you can’t parallel park that gas guzzling monstrosity, you cannot safely operate it in traffic. It’s just that simple.

Just glad to be here folks.

From: Doroteo Subject: heat So I don't know what got into me. It must have been the excitement of a new Surly Cross-Check. Or the magic of a build-up with a Rohloff hub. Whatever it was caused me to hook up the ol' B.O.B. and head off into the sunset. In September. In Arizona. When I came to my senses, I found myself out here at my bro's house in Huntington Beach. It's not as hot here as it was in Yuma. There is more traffic though. I already find myself missing that Mecca of Baja Arizona-Tucson. At least when I get back my legs will be strong and tan. I will also have managed to burn off what few remaining brain cells I had when I started this trip. I met this old geezer in Leucadia. Riding an old steel handbuilt with T.A. cranks, Phil hubs, friction bar-cons and a black and oily drivetrain. He must have been about 80 years old. Not an ounce of fat on him anywhere. His legs were cut. We rode together about ten miles or so and he said some interesting things. One thing he said that sticks in my mind is "You can't exactly call bike touring fun". I hope your recent ride to Winkelman was satisfying.

Winkelman was grand. What a town, let me tell you that much. You want action? You head on down, over and up to Winkelman. You won’t be disappointed in Arizona little sister city to Las Vegas. That’s right. You heard me. Coke, gambling and hookers. Just like my apartment.

I am so full of shit.

Winkelman sucks ass. But, when the screw is getting turned, anyplace selling ice cold cokes is heaven. I’ve stumbled in there a few times now.

Oh, and your ride: Epic. Nice work, glad to hear you had a good time. I’d like to try something like that. Maybe in February when it’s about 65 degrees, eh?

This is big old long ass email, but it made me laugh like I haven’t in a long time. Check it out.

From: paddy Subject: Remember the book "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus"? Here's a prime example offered by an English professor from the University of Phoenix: "Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached." The following was actually turned in by two of my English students: Rebecca (last name deleted), and Gary (last name deleted). ------------------------------------------------- THE STORY: (first paragraph by Rebecca) At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question. ------------------------------------------------- (second paragraph by Gary) Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17,???*?? he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit. ------------------------------------------------ (Rebecca) He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully. ----------------------------------------------- (Gary)f Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim- witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret Mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid, Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow 'em out of the sky!" ------------------------------------------------ (Rebecca) This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent. ----------------------------------------------- (Gary) Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of FUCKING TEA??? Oh no, I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels." ------------------------------------------------ (Rebecca) Asshole. ------------------------------------------------ (Gary) Bitch. ------------------------------------------------ (Rebecca) Dick! ------------------------------------------------ (Gary) Slut. ------------------------------------------------ (Rebecca) Get fucked. ------------------------------------------------ (Gary) Eat shit. ----------------------------------------------- (Rebecca) FUCK YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!!! ------------------------------------------------ (Gary) Go drink some tea - whore. ********************************************** (TEACHER) A+ - I really liked this one. Only group to get an A.

Monday, September 23, 2002

bike related?   I   lando’s stinking hole   I   punk kittens

Today, the 23rd. This site, two years old. How ya like them apples? I've been doing this little pill party for two fucking years of my life. How time flies when you're having fun.

What did you learn today?

On the off chance that I didn’t already link this, you can go check out real ultimate power another "sweet ninja link" from Mitch, or Zatch or something like that. And lets just stop the whole sending me more ninja links with that one, OK?

This looks to be a good time waster. If you’re into that sort of thing.

From: RoCket Boy Subject: Nigerian E-Mail Scam Fun Links for fucking with the Nigerians...... Thought you might like these.. Scammers get a taste of their own........ Guy Screwing with them............. haxial.com/fraud/mikeaba.html Gallery of different Scam Letters................ quatloos.com/cm-niger/nigerian_scam_letter_museum.htm Scammed the Scammers out of 3 bucks....... Funny as Hell........... scamorama.com/threebucks.html Funny, with .WAV files and pictures of the scammer that literally got ran around in circles............. buddyweiserman.com

Talk about an online resource. I can’t wait till one of those bastard emails me again. I’ll just tap into on of those sites and start cutting and pasting. You can’t compete with that type of genius. You can only emulate it.

Upcoming publics service announcement.

From: epic rides Subject: a lil’ lovin on-line Big Jonny, If you have the time and care to share please let the world of all that matters; bikes, beer, & porn, know: After this Friday (9/27) the entry fee for the Arizona Bicycle Experts Soul Ride will increase $15. 9/27, or before  9/28, or after 96-miles = $75    $90 69-miles = $55    $70 25-miles = $40    $55 register on-line at epicrides.com

There you have it folks. Act now and sign up. The only excuse for not going is the Single Speed World Championships are the same weekend. So, if you ain’t going single then ya better go for soul.

Oh, and you had better check on the ghetto dawg. I like what he’s got going on over there. Looks to be a brand new site. Lets see what he does with it.

Sunday, September 22, 2002

naomi   I   samantha   I   judita

As promised, today’s stage of the Vuelta threw everyone in a big 'ol shaker and tossed them out on the table. Big changes in the GC. My man DiLuca climbed from 27th to 13th place while actually losing a minute on first place. That should tell you all about what kind of day it was.

Bad ass.

There was a local race today. And when I mean local, I mean it was in the state of Arizona. It was in the thriving metropolis of Hayden. Never heard of it, eh?

Well, I said stuff it to racing as I am in no condition to ride a .4 of a mile crit course at anything resembling effort. Plus, being a Cat 4 rider means I would have had to contend with a 8:00 am start time. Get up at 5:00 and drive all the way out there by myself. Warm up by myself and then race by myself. Yeah, fuck that.

Me not going was a forgone conclusion.

So, I did the next best thing. I rode out to the race. The gnome and Julzy were going (why god why) and I figured, fuck it, I’ll just pedal my happy ass on over to Hayden and then catch a ride back with the little fella.

I have to admit, I caught a ride across town with them too. I skipped out on about forty five minutes worth of traffic lights and car exhaust. I still got my ride on.

Three and a half hours later and I’ve never been so glad to see the Winkleman city limit signs. Old Winky-poo is Hayden sister city and next door neighbor. I think the only difference is Winkleman has the gas station. And gas stations have water. And water is good when it’s in the fucking 90’s and your stupid ass thinks it sounds like a good idea to ride all the way out to fucking Hayden.

I lived, ‘cause here I am typing. Julzy got second in her race. El gnome didn’t enjoy the heat as much as I did and that was about that. I’ve no idea who won any of the races. But, I can tell you that a $1.69 frozen green chili and beef product burrito at Circle K after 60 solo miles into a head wind is a slice of heaven you don’t want to miss.

I would have made love to that burrito if I wasn’t so busy ramming it down my gullet. Score: jonny 1, burrito 0.

Saturday, September 21, 2002

raylene   I   jr carrington   I   sondra

El gnome and I were talking this morning, as two riders on the way to the shoot-out sometimes will. It’s gonna be a beat down, you got something to say, say it now.

We decided computers are shit.

I mean, what the fuck? Between us there are three machines running in my apartment, his mac and my two pc’s. He’s running OS 9 or 10 and I’ve got one machine with Win 98 and the other, shudder, cringe, with Win ME. Between this axis of evil at least one of them can be counted on to totally fuckup, explode and generally cause a whole lotta chaos.

I’ve found that even if I’m saving information frequently, Windows will find a way to crash out so fucking hard, like a airplane straight into the side of a mountain, and loose it all anyway. It’s like why even bother backing it up, I’ll bitch up everything so bad it won’t even matter. Fucking Microsoft is telling me, hope you have a good memory, ‘cause all that shit you typed is fucking gone with the wind, baby. It now exists nowhere but in your mind.

Well, I’ve got some shit in the works. I’m going to try some new operating systems around here in the next couple of days. Fuck this shit, I’m making power moves and tightening up my bank roll. I don’t even know what that last line means, I just typed what Gang Starr was saying on the radio.

Lets see what showed up in the mail today. I imaging it’s a fucking ton of emails. Would you look at that, it is a ton of emails. What a surprise.

Click here to see a "busty shaved blonde on the beach". Thanks to Bill for the link, who says, "Well, there IS a bike in it...." Yes there is my friend.

It’s a good thing God gave that woman a nice set of tits, because she got hosed in the face department.

If you’re going to go, go big.

Michael sends in a link to the pimp name generator. Mine is Shifty Jive Talking Samurai, what’s yours?

From: Roy Subject: Props Hey dude, Love the site. The more I learn I find how little I really know - Dave Baerwald And this is how ninjas settle their differences via email in the cyber world - check it out. bluesforbuddha.com/ninjas/index.cfm Fucking voices in my head are lying again...

It’s been a big week for ninja links. So far I’ve had two, a hundred percent increase from any previous week in the history of the site. Ninja’s rule. I like the preview section of the site where you can watch little badass ninja cartoons slaughter people like it ain’t no thing.

The voices in my head told me to stay home from work today, and clean the guns. What the fuck do they know? I don’t even have a job.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the luckiest man in the world.

Friday, September 20, 2002

katja   I   trisha   I   catalina

I found some more of that girl Heather (yeah, that is her real name) yesterday. It’s not much, but it is free. Click here.

The older I get, the less I know.

I know I like beer.

And I know I like Sydney Moon.

From: Joshua Subject: More flash hotties Hi again Johnny, I just found another flash "peekaboo" of that one blond hottie you like so much who's name I can't remember even though she's about the sexiest thing I've ever seen. Anwaaaaay, here's the link, hope you like it: strong.dk/girl.php

Well, that’s about it for me. I’ve been trying to salvage everything I can off my desktop machine which just tonight decides booting up is optional. I’ve got it running after about an hours worth of fucking around with it, but it ain’t running well. I got it to recognize the cd burner, so a burning we will go.

I’ve got to get in bed soon. The shoot-out is tomorrow morning, and the shoot-out waits for no man.

Especially not a fat fuck like me.

Thursday, September 19, 2002

hello dirty   I   veronica   I   damn

Go check out this site, bikeblog.com. Some interesting stuff over there. Including a link to me. I like the looks of shitshifter too. Oh, if I could only be British.

This is how arguments will be settled at the single speed worlds apparently. With ninjas.

And this straight in from hell today. Oh, I loved it.

Bobby sent in this link. He says its, "not nudity but whoa!"

I’m tempted to agree. Who knew caskets could be so sexy?

From: response Subject: objects in mirror may be less sane then you think I was riding my bike to school today. I got shut down by some MILF in a shiny SUV. I managed to rattle off a few choice comments. She stops. Gets out, and asks me to repeat what I said? I ride a touring bike with a wicker basket. I get lots of looks in traffic. Today I had my Judogi (Judo uniform) in the basket as I rode to my Judo class. So I am looking at this 95 \lb. soccer mom as she gets as close as she can to my face (I am 6'1" 230lbs) and I am wondering what she is thinking. I am over double her weight and I am a trained fighter and I ride bike to tune up my CV and this bitch thinks, that just because I ride a bike that I am some kid who cannot stick up for himself or homeless or what?? Does it ever occur to these idiots that try to run us over that a good portion of us rider are: 1. professional assholes 2. fed up with people shit 3. in excellent cv shape among other things 4. wanting to nail 95lb soccer moms or at least wanting to administer emergency bukake to them for internet purposes So, mid tirade, I simply told her "miss, you are mistaking me for your husband". And I rode to my class on my splendid bicycle.

I think you handled the situation just perfectly. I’m sure she went home and yelled at her husband a whole bunch. You made that guys day.

Good job, have a donut.

This is a letter that showed up over the weekend when I was out of town. It’s a good one, so I’m posting it. Don’t like it, too bad.

From: sfa fasdfasd Subject: god bless and I promise not to do it again I guess I long for things past. I have been riding for a number of years and, until recently, in the saddle continually in good weather and bad. I built bike after bike with the latest high-tech gear, least bobbing suspension and most plush travel. I tried them all and threw good money after bad while keeping the owner of my bike shop happy. He knows my favorites by name and keeps my sizes in stock. King, Thomson, Easton…they wait for my next build. It all happens in an instant and I am laid up for weeks in bed. A simple dab turns into thousands of dollars in medical bills and finding a surgeon who can repair all I have done to my knee. I do everything one hundred percent and this is no different, the injury is just this side of bleak. I am depressed beyond belief and wish I could ride something other than the bed and extra-strength Vicoden. This internet thing starts to take over my free days as I progress from feeling like crud to manageable crud to almost good. I need to be around bike people, even if it is online, to feed my ever present addiction. I need my fix. Why not occupy my time by building a bike for my recovery? Great, a project! Finally, something to look forward to and help my lowly state of mind. An activity to keep me occupied. So I start on a journey that takes me forward, and then suddenly back. In searching for a bike, I want something different. Something that can ride the road but isn’t a roadie. Something that I can adventure on but isn’t inefficient on the street. Something that I can ride in foul weather or just take on an overnight exploration. I want a bike is all I know but I want it my way. Weeks of dreaming up my wish list for this bike takes many turns, a journey in itself. Rim brakes. No, disc. Road frame. No, touring. Store bought. No, custom. I finally find a builder who will put up with my incessant nuttiness and will build what I want (that is more difficult than you think), a ‘cross/touring frame with only disc mounts. It will have rack braze on’s for touring and be of the finest steel and lug construction, retro cool and a modern classic. The builder asks for my spec’s on the bike and I hesitate. No, I will spec the components myself. It has to be just right. As I start to build a bike I would dream about, I start with the usual. Drop bar. STI levers. Shimano components. Then I stop. While rummaging through the mess of E-bay I come across a set of levers, circa 1974. Drilled silver Campy’s with tan hoods in beautiful condition, I have to have them. Trust me when I say I paid way too much for them and I am happy that I did. They are beautiful. When they arrive, everything changes. I change. I start searching restoration sites for more info on old parts. I want some history on my new ride but not recent history. I want a bike that is new yet old. I want a bike that isn’t flashy but is understood by those that take the time to look it over. I want practicality, function and form but I also want the lost art of the past. I learn to shellac bars and weave tape. I find bottle cages that are just this side of perfect in that they are made from one strand of stainless steel and polished to perfection. I find French new-old stock cranks that gleam with their beautiful finish. Brooks becomes my saddle of choice and down tube shifters the ultimate find. Everything must be perfect and countless hours are spent on the finishing details. And then finally, I am done. All I need is for the frame to arrive and I have months before that happens. However, in my searching for parts, scouring shops high and low, I come across a time warp that takes me to a simpler time in cycling. It has a name, it has a frame, it has a shop and it has a way of life. This place is simple and honest, unlike a lot of what we see today. The owners are nice and down to earth. They write a newsletter that reads like something from another decade and it centers around cycling, kind of, with other eclectic topics thrown in. Yes, I think I found what I am looking for. Today is the first anniversary of something I will be trying to forget for the rest of my life. I have really come to think that my search for the perfect bike really has become my search for the perfect time. I watched it live on television as many of us did and was horrified when the second plane made that banked turn towards thousands of people’s soon to be altered lives. I was up earlier than normal that day and today I repeated that pre-dawn awakening, perhaps hoping that I could change what happened a year ago. If I walked through the same steps, just maybe I wouldn’t remember what happened a year ago today. If I turned on the news just maybe I wouldn’t see it all over again. But, I did. God, bless those that had their lives forever altered by the events of a year ago today. I wish I could forget what I saw and the innocence I lost that day, but I am sure others want that back more than I. I sincerely hope those close to the events are able to find peace in what must be an eternal reminder of the horrific events that transpired on September 11th, 2001. I wish we could all have found a simpler time.

Wednesday, September 18, 2002

briana banks one   I   briana two   I   braina three   I   braina three

Sitting on my front porch staring at the moon. Watching the clouds go by. Can’t tell ya if it’s the full moon or not, but it is simply wonderful. I’m tilting back a few beers by myself ‘cause snake and the gnome are already laid out.

They both were at some race down in Mexico last week and have spent the last two days absolutely pissing out of their asses. They’re both happy about it too, let me assure you of that. Wouldn’t you be? Watching your body weight plummet as gallons of filth spew out your backside is a hell I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

But, I’m here in my underwear enjoying a nice evening breeze. That’s the desert for ya. Wake up at 5:30 am before the sun is up, ride till 9:00. Hide from the heat all day then sit on your porch in dark drinking beer by yourself.

It’s a life I guess.

I’ve got to thank my man rocket boy for sending in some new title .jpegs. They are badass. I’ll be posting them over the next couple of weeks.

This in from Jason, who says, "it’s all about the bike, right?"

Yes it is my friend. Yes it is.

From: jul Subject: what about the rest of the weekend you fag. you forgot to tell everyone about you poppin' your dick out in the middle of the bar, pissing off people, and getting kicked out of a bar by 11:30 at night. oh, and where's my plane ticket to vegas, bitch?

There you have it folks, the truth about your favorite webmaster. I drink to much, my penis sees the light of day way to often and I get kicked out of bars.

I think I broke a rib last weekend. Yeah, yeah, I've got a drinking problem. Tell me something I don't know already.

Go read the latest over at pro cycling news. Good stuff.

From: jim Subject: kishbike.com what's a guy gotta do to get on the most desired link bar in the dubya dubya dubya? have a look at kishbike.com

Baby, you are linked. All ya gotta do is ask. ‘Cause steel is for fucking real. I see your hit count is at 2484 right now. I wonder how high it’ll be this time tomorrow?

Fuck it, go check out laughing lynx. Great content, but watch out for the pop ups.

From: response Subject: because Dear drunk dude, I have your sticker on the side of my helmet. If anybody out there notices it they should honk their horn and tell me to go fuck myself (the highest compliment in my opinion). Oh yeah, I was hoping that you would put up more alcohol sites. For example, I was trying to make cocktails today, and thought to myself, "I am too drunk and stupid to remember how to make a silk panty, wouldn't it be cool if my favorite web site had such important information?" If anyone doubts the importance of sickly sweet chick drinks, they should go fuck themselves.... Lastly, some of my cycling friends were burning me for my single speed. They were saying "Why dont you ride a fucking tricycle, thats a single speed". And I told them squarely, "If I have a few more drinks, I'll need one". Drunkenly yours, Response

You sir, are both a gentleman and a scholar. And this girl is naughty.

From: pdub Subject: IDUN Hi Drunk Cyclists, www.Iamtrouble.com is unreal!!!! Thank you, made my day. On another note, check this out: myscribblevision.com/Milk%20Co./IDUN/teaser.mov

I’ll leave you with this link from Dolomite. That shit is tight.

Tuesday, September 17, 2002

ass 2   I   ass 3   I   ass 4   I   ass 5

I’m really stuck on an ass theme. Don’t me why, just start fucking clicking.

Seems all you guys caused a bit of trouble over at www.pleasurebox.ca.

From: John Subject: Hey Jonny Hey Jonny... how ya doing big guy ? Hey I wanted to thank you for the Ron Jeremy link you posted on your website... it got us a sick amount of traffic!!!! (and thus exposure) So much so that our RealServer simply bit the almighty bullet and now refuses to serve the file he he he... I’m serious!!! Anyways if any of your viewers would still like to see the file the new link is pleasurebox.ca/images/postimages/jeremy.asx and now uses windows media player.

Glad to help out anyway I can, John. You sell porn and porn is cool.

Here is a gallery of a hot chick on a bicycle. Yes, I’m on a bullet train to hell. Thanks to Joel for the link.

From: Ryan Subject: Site Dude, check this site out. The intro will kick your ass, and then she'll leave you quivering on the floor like a little bitch. iamtrouble.com

I am utterly at a loss for words after viewing that site.

Holy fucking shit dude, where did you find that? Never mind. Who cares, as long as you found it and showed to me.

That chick rules.

The only reason I’m not jerking off right now is because I’ve got a house guest staying on my sofa and he’s a guy. I’ve got to draw the line somewhere, haven’t I?

Monday, September 16, 2002

east side free ride   I   ebaumsworld   I   a lotta ass

And now, the wedding. What can I say? It happened and it was great. Good weather, good friends. Wine, women and song.

There were eight of us groomsmen, and eight lovelies across the way. The ceremony was short and sweet, as was my toast to Casey and Jen. Something my friend Charlene didn’t hesitate to call me on. She said it was a cop out. I just went to the point, raising my glass I said, "Casey, knowing you had made my life better."

I thought it was perfect. I said a few more things, about wishing them all the best and that sort of thing. It didn’t impress Charlene much, but I can live with that. What I can’t live with is this hangover.

It’s been two whole days for Christ’s sake. You’d think I could start feeling better now. I’m ready to feel normal again.

You’d think with all this bike riding, I could put down 45 drinks in two days and recover. But, noooo, I have to feel like shit for two days.

Lets just see what tomorrow brings. Yesterday brought the snake. That freeloading son of a bitch is sleeping on my floor right now. And I think he’s planning on staying all fucking week long. I think I might give him a good kick before I retire for the night. I’ll just say, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you laying there snake. I’m sorry I dropped a bicycle on your head. That looked like it hurt, are you OK?

Monday, September 16, 2002

mary, hard on the eyes   I   vanessa   I   hola chica

Back in town ten o’clock last night. First night of more than four hours sleep in three days. I feel like I’ve been turned inside out. What a weekend. I don’t even know where to start. Lets have a look at the old notebook, eh?

9/13 at the airport
Friday the thirteenth. Two days after the eleventh. Yeah, that eleventh. And I’m sitting in an airport terminal at 5:15 am. This hurts.

Of course, I’ve had no sleep of any consequence. And of course, I’m barely sober. I cannot believe I’ve gotten myself into this mess.

I’m flying out this early because I’m going to a wedding. But, not just any wedding. My man Casey is tying to knot. Taking the plunge and all that. I’m to be his best man. Sacrifices must be made.

For me the sacrifice is sleep, sobriety and a fist full of cash. This is going to kill me in many ways. I’ll probably have to start working again after this. Oh well, it had to come sometime.

Tonight is the rehearsal dinner, a dinner I’ll barely make at this rate. Two flights, a drive in a rental car and I might just be in Boiling Springs, Pennsylvania by 6:00 p.m. Just in time to start drinking again.

I want to fly on an airline who employs only strippers who hand out long neck bottles of Bud and wear thongs. Fly the friendly skies and all that.

Oh God, make this stop. My head hurts and I don’t want to be here. I can’t wait to get this fucking show on the road. Fuck, the sun ain’t even up yet. Why am I?

9/13 on the plane
I just heard a song the goes, "she’s got a firebird with a trailer hitch.."

I love redneck chicks.

I simply cannot believe I’m actually going to this wedding. This is really going to happen? How long have they been engaged?

Well, I was there that night too. It was at the New Years celebration on Mill Avenue. In 2000.

It seems like a lifetime ago, because it was a lifetime ago.

I’m in an exit row unlike any other I’ve seen. There must be a solid four feet of leg room ahead of me. It’s grand. I’m all stretched out like I didn’t know I could.

I’ve been able to sleep some, and as the hours tick by this is getting a lot easier to deal with.

But, sobriety still sucks.

9/14 Saturday morning.
I woke up behind the wheel, radio on, parked on the top floor of a parking garage in Carlisle.

First thought: "Where the fuck am I?"

Get out of the car, find overnight bag and dig out tooth brush. Enjoy view of Carlisle from what may be the highest point in town. Sun is only beginning to redden the sky. What the fuck time is it?

Wave to the security camera. Notice my rental car for the first time. Hey, nice car, I had no idea. Consider taking a piss right here. Think better of it, probably get arrested. How the fuck am I not in jail already?

That’s where Nagel is. Maybe I should go get him? Cops told me last night they’d let him out at 7:00. That’s in a half an hour.

I know where the jail is because I already walked down there last night. It’s just around the corner. OK, I’ve got a plan. Coffee, jail.

I find a corner store on the end of the block from the police station. Park, stumble inside. At least the sun is up.

No coffee. Two big machines with empty pots. Dumbass behind the counter not making any sense. I’m probably not making much sense either so fuck it. Get a pepsi and some cheese crackers. Justin would be proud.

6:45, walk to police station. Jesus, the way I’m going they’ll probably just throw me in the drunk tank with ‘em.

Bullet proof glass, in the basement. Guy back there is in a fucking wheelchair. Asks me, do ya spell that last name N A U G L E, or N A G L E?

I tell him I don’t know, try em both. He tells me there no one there by that name. I say how many guys you got back there? He say, there isn’t anyone back there right now.

I’m speechless.

Then what are we talking about? I leave.

I’m fucked. Hangover coming on strong now. No rest for the wicked. Gotta do something. Wish I had a bike to ride.

Remember that the Appalachian trail runs right by the reception site. I can drive out there. I might as well, I don’t know where anyone else is, the bars aren’t open and I can’t buy booze this time of day in fucking Pennsylvania.

Get to the trailhead and start walking. Through forests, fields over rocks and logs. Climb and climb. No water. Starting a good sweat. Walls keep coming up and I keep pushing them down. Feeling better after an hour and a half.

Decide to turn around. Stop in a big field of clover. Lay down. Stare at the clouds for a while. Everything is spinning, can’t see straight. Better keep walking. Takes me an hour to get back to the car.

At the end of a two hour hike, by myself in the woods, I feel like a fucking rock star. Time to eat.

Find the Karns Food store. .43 cent bagels and .99 cent turkey sandwiches. Big bottles of water. Laugh at store promotion, enter to win your body weight in chicken. That would be a lot of chicken. Devour everything in the parking lot.

Time to find everyone else. First guy I see, Scottish Chris. Hands me a bottle of scotch. I take a big swig in the hotel lobby. I am ready to start tearing the lid off this town again. Right now I am balls deep in Carlisle.

I share some more of the trip in a few hours.

Thursday, September 12, 2002

okay   I   um   I   yeah

That’s it boys. Parties over. Time to go home. Gonna stretch myself out at Fernandez Funeral home on a hundred and seventy fifth.

What the fuck am I talking about?

From: Willy Subject: Don’t forget us piggies DC, A very classy tip 'o the helmet to the 9/11 note on your page. Well done. Don't forget us cops who also go through shit storms for folks we don't know and probably hate us...till they're in a jam. I'm a single speeder, punk rock listening geezer (39) and a cop. I'm pretty liberal when it come to "personal" issues...as long as you ain't committing some heinous evil on someone else. I'd spend as much time as I could REALLY looking for your bike if some punk ass meth head snagged it. Maybe most cops wouldn't, but then there are plumbers who won't fix your sink right either. Thanks for having a great page and don't forget the boys in blue who went down with our brother firefighters.

I hear ya man. I assure you it was only an oversight on my part to not include all the folks in uniform who went down doing their best to save lives. I’m not playing any favorites around here, that’s for damn sure.

From: Bruce Subject: Serious Jonny Nothing wrong with being serious today. I attached something I wrote for the bike club last Sept. 12. Hope you like it. I rode my bike last night. Something that I do most nights during the summer, but this time I rode with the images of unimaginable horror hammering their way into all my thoughts. It may seem callused of me to want to get on my bike in the aftermath of such great sorrow, violence and madness. Why didn’t I go to church, why didn’t I go to my family, why didn’t I quietly contemplate the awful change in direction our world had taken? I did. There have been four events to deeply disturb me in my adult years, the death of my mother, the Oklahoma City bombing, being at the BMC Arlington race where Nicole Rheinhart was killed and now the events of September 11, 2001. After all these horrible days I got on my bike as soon as I could. I was not consumed with a desire to train; I did not feel the need to take advantage of good riding weather. I needed to pray, I needed to talk to Mom, her death was the first of these events, and I needed to clear my head. During these sad rides I asked God or what ever is out there to give comfort to those effected, I ask Mom to watch over the souls of those she would soon meet, and I asked for grace and courage for all involved. I could not have peacefully composed myself without being where I most enjoy being, on my bike. Last night I feel I rode with a purpose. I saw people going on with their lives, doing what they should do. I saw couples walking with babies; our best hope in the trying times ahead. I asked for grace, I talked to Mom, and I gave thanks for all that I am fortunate enough to have in my life, things I do often. Last night however I also asked for an explanation, I pleaded that these horrendous events don’t plunge us into even darker times and I worried like I never have before. My bike sang last night, I did not rocket around fueled by anger, I did not crawl along weighted down by sorrow, I just rode. The bike almost wasn’t there. It seemed to know that it was a tool in a very important personal mission, it seemed to shift itself, it ran perfectly quietly, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Go about your lives, pray if you choose, keep hope alive. Be thankful for what you have, do what you can for others. Ask for help, give it also. Go for a ride.

I don’t have anything to add to that except this next letter. You guys all rule.

From: Danno Subject: My ride on Sept. 11, 2002 Danny here, today I went for a regular bike ride. I freeride. That means I do stupid stuff like dropping off of ledges and jumping and crap like that. But today I went on a normal ride, with my AMERICAN flag. On my way to the lake front I noticed a few more flags then normal but still FAR too few. When I left for my ride I wondered would anyone care that I was on a ride just to carry our flag. I am very saddened by how few people smiled, gave me thumbs up or honked their horns. I'm not sure what I expected today,...But I had hoped that this day people would remember and for one more fucking day have a spine and a little pride. I got a wake up call. Don't misunderstand me, there were some who let me know that they remembered and where supportive. But the others......Most ignored me and a few actually looked at me with contempt like I was doing something wrong. I was so pissed but I kept it down. Today I would not break. I focused on those who knew today's importance. I made it just south of the convention center on the lake front and saw something I didn't know was there; I saw the memorial to the fallen Chicago firefighters and paramedics. I just about broke down. I didn't plan on stopping there, I was going to go further south but I felt the need to stop. I stayed there and reflected awhile. I then stared my ride home. Nothing different there, same crap as before with a few signs that people remember and cared. I had someone ride up behind me and ask "Are you with Chicagofreeride?" We talked awhile as we rode. Talking about bikes and riding and shit like that. That was the only time today I wasn't sad. It felt good. We parted and I thought why don't people care, or do they? I don't know. I do know this; I don't take for granted that tomorrow WILL be there anymore. For me everything revolves around riding and I just want to ride. What is important to you? Don't waste a day. You might regret it. I want to wish all of you well. Fly the flag all year my friends, not just a few special times. Danny. chicagofreeride.com

Thanks for all the letters. I feel all ya’ll. Thanks for making this site what it is. A big old trainwreck.

No, seriously, thank you.

OK, for real though, I am leaving for the weekend. My man Casey is getting married, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. OK, I’d miss it for a ham sandwich. But that’s just because I’m hungry.

So, no updates for the weekend. Thems the breaks. I’ll be back in form in a couple of days.

Lates.

Tuesday, September 10, 2002

Firefighters are heroes

This is the update I don’t want to write.

It’s raining tonight in Tucson and I’m sitting here typing. I don’t know what else to do. We all have our thing I guess. This is mine.

I just put down three Shiner Bocks in a half an hour over at the gnomes apartment, and it helps I guess.

September 11th.

A date that will live in infamy? Perhaps rightly so. I was doing a pretty good job of not dealing with all of this until I heard some Sierra Vista fire fighters on the radio driving back from my night class. That put it dead center for me. Right up there on the table.

This is real. This happened. This was wrong.

I don’t get very serious on the site very often. But, I want you to do something for me today. I want you to spend time with those you love. Give them a hug. Let them know they are important to you.

‘Cause baby, it all could end tomorrow.

Don’t miss this chance.

I don’t go to church. I don’t believe in God. I live in sin. But tonight I’m praying. If there is anything out there, please don’t let some asshole blow something up tomorrow. I just can’t deal with anymore pointless violence.

I want tomorrow to be like any other day.

I’ll be getting up at 5:20 am and riding my bike. It’s just what I do. Ya’ll do whatever it is you do. We’ll all be fine.

A year. One year. How much had changed. And how much hasn’t.

Firefighters are heroes.

Tuesday, September 10, 2002

blue dress   I   zdenka blue dress   I   zdenka blue dress again

Well, hot diggity dog God damn and all that. I finally got this fucking computer back to some semblance of normalcy. Unreal pain in the ass. I can’t believe I’m working with the equivalent of a full Tourney Groupo as a workstation.

It doesn’t work right, it’ll never work right, it was never supposed to work right. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Sit down, shut up and eat your bowl of mush. Fucking pansy. You suck. You’re just standing there, you’re killing the grass. Move!

I can’t feel my legs, coach. Oh, that was this morning. Yeah, weeeeeee, I rocked the morning ride. Wake up tired, ride system wheels, go hard, blow up, cruise in with Justin.

I shouldn’t complain, I’m right where I should be this time of year. It ain’t the distance, baby, it’s the intensity that kills me. I can handle miles, I just can’t ride behind fucking Gord Fraser and the rest of the thug squad on these group rides.

And when I say ride behind, I mean several miles behind. I’m in a separate time zone than that guy.

Oh God, email. Metric assloads of fucking email. A couple of days with the system on the fritz and it’s a fucking avalanche around here. I’ll dig myself out in a couple of days I imagine.

From: Geo Subject: I read your stuff about spam Yeah I get those "make your penis 3 inches longer" e-mails also. Ya wanna know what's better then an 43 old dumbass like me getting them? My 9 year old gets them also. His dick isn't even 3 inches long yet :-) Ya wanna know what he said after he read his yahoo "age restricted" e-mail acct? He said "ma dick's gonna be bigger then the Empire State Building baby"!!!! Yeah isn't THAT just wonderful...........

It’s a gas, isn’t it? Just think, who wouldn’t want a bigger penis? Whether you’re nine or ninety, imagine swinging around your very own Louisville Slugger like a champ.

From: singlespeeder Subject: Winblowz ME Windows ME is widely despised, even by the Computer Press folks. If you can locate one, a copy of Windows 2000 Professional would be much better, both in stability as well as security. Plus it won't suck ass. If I can be of any help, just let me know. The site kicks ass by the way!

Yeah, ME sucks the big old donkey dick. Don’t I know it. Bill Gates personally owes me an apology for fucking ruining countless nights, me left banging my head against the wall screaming, "Why Bill? Damnit why?"

You know he doesn’t return my calls?

Shawn sent in this link and told me to keep on kicking ass. OK, I will. Snake, you’re the next contestant on I’m kicking your ass. Bitch.

I found a pic of my favorite bike seat, the San Marco Regal. You just gotta feel the love, man. 300 grams of chocolatey goodness. Suck on my salty balls, you mother fucker. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when my current one finally gives up the ghost. I might just have to, gasp, buy another one. Click here to witness the glory.

From: response Subject: stuff The latest ploy to drive the Taliban and Al Quaeda out of the mountains of Afghanistan is to send in a team of Alabama Special Forces. Billy Bob, Bubba, Boo, Scooter, and Cooter are being sent in with the following information about the Taliban: 1. There is no limit. 2. The season opened last weekend. 3. They taste just like chicken. 4. They don't like beer, pickup trucks, country music, or Jesus. 5. Some are queer. 6. They don't like barbeque. 7. They were responsible for Dale Earnhardt's death. Should be over in just about a week.

Whoo doggies, that ones kinda catchy like. C’mere to me, ya whore.

Check out this dude. Fucking hero.

From: cletus honedew Subject: another worlds report I just got back from that cruel area north of the border known as canada, where i rode my bike up and down a mountain for 24 and a half hours, and i saw a post by that ryan spates character and am inspired to write. Gather 'round you whippersnappers and let me tell you a tale, a tale of heartbreak and hypothermia, a tale of epic mountain-top action and even more epic speeches by that windbag stuart dorland, what a cheezeball. Yes i also rode in the 24hr world championships, and even though he lapped me three times i managed to kick tinkers scrawny little butt because he bailed and didn't finish due to the nasty weather. And i did it all on my trusty spot ss, which is now even more scraped up than before due to my many graceless "dismounts"(i.e.faceplants, bellyflops, diggers) throughout the wet and nasty night. I agree with ryan spates, there were sections that looked like they belonged on a dh course, big, diagonal roots on impossibly steep, off-camber sections. And that's before it started raining. When the storm blew in there were literally little waterfalls all over the downhill, and 4 inch deep rivers in the rest. This is a little detail that ryan missed out on because, by his own admission, he was inside his comfy dry room, having a little nappy-pooh or whatever and keeping his poofy gelled hairdo from getting all damp and flacid. I on the other hand was OUTSIDE in the fucking rain, getting soaked to the bone and muddy until my chamois was black and gritty. HELL YEAH! You know like riding my bike and stuff and enjoying the hail at 5am as a nice break from the monotonous phoenix sunshine. I was hating life but it was perversely worth it, because that's what i wanted. If i wanted an easy race i'd do the mbaa series and ride around for two hours then have a beer. Ryan where are your guts dude? C'mon, you let generations of tough texas hombres down, real manly men who didn't hide under thier blankets and drink hot chocolate when it got tough. You should have thought of the alamo, channeled clint eastwood, gritted your teeth and kept on pushing. I didn't stop until i had honest to goodness hypothermia and was pulled by my pit crew. And then did i drink hot chocolate and hide from the rain? HELL YEAH!! It was the best hot chocolate ever, seriously. Then i whined like a little girl and asked for people to fluff my pillow, but only after some quality suffering. So after some time in the medic building regaining feeling in my fingers and toes i went back out and finished the lap. I wound up doing 13 laps, which put me in 4th in singlespeed and 18th overall in the elite class. Those bastards didn't even give us free booze at the awards ceremony to ease the pain. Grrrrr Anyways, it was the most brutal downhill stuff i've ever seen on a trail that people were actually racing wimpy xc bikes on, and i saw so many people yardsale and flat that i lost count. I personally flatted five times, and i was running usually flat-proof hutchinsons. It was fun.

I gotta start doing more of these races. Everyday, Charlie’s out in the bush, getting stronger and I’m in here getting weaker. Every day.

And I’ve still got like a fucking hundred emails to get through. When will it end?

Sunday, September 08, 2002

alena from russia   I   um, what?   I   montreal chicks?

My head hurts and now I can't get online. I don't know what happened to this fucking computer this time. But I'm pretty sure I know what happened to me. I think that 'windows me' is probably the most unstable operating platform ever made. It just doesn't work worth a shit.

I guess it's time to reload the mother fucker again.

Don't ask me why, but reinstalling windows it seems to make everything OK. At least for a little while. Then this piece of shit remembers that's it's really 'windows me' and it should start fucking up.

I'm not even going to mention what a gigantic pain in the ass it is to reload all the software to actually maintain a website. Fuck me. It's going to take hours. And it still probably wont' work right. And so it goes.

Don’t ask me why, but I think I like this site. sundog.blogspot.com.

Maybe I can get online tomorrow and actually update my website instead of jerking off like this. Although jerking off does have it's high points.

Now about me. We threw it the fuck down last night for my man Casey’s bachelor party. In true form, both Casey and I puked. I think he went bigger than I did, but then it was his night.

And, I really can’t tell ya for sure what happened, ‘cause my recollection of the evenings events is a little bit foggy. Like, I have no idea.

I can tell you I woke up hurting with not so much money left in my wallet. Eleven dollars, all one dollar bills. I started with something in the triple digits.

I was smart enough, somehow, I don’t know where the inspiration comes from, to hide a few bucks in my messenger bag before I went out. Real smart. Gotta eat breakfast and gas back to Tucson ain’t free.

I just need to sort out these dumb computers and get rid of this hangover. Somehow I’ll manage.

Saturday, September 07, 2002

lesbo-rama   I   lesbo-rama   I   lesbo-rama

I get a lot of bullshit email here at the site, as you can probably imagine. Everything from "wanna bigger penis?" to "it’s time to think about refinancing you house" to "hey sailor, curious?"

It’s a mixed bag.

Usually pretty boring and uninspired. But, some real gems come down the pipe now and again. Like this one.

We have incest of all kinds: Daddy - Daughter, Mommy - Son, Mommy - Daughter, Brother - Sister, Sister - Sister, Daddy - Son, Brother - Brother... Just take a private anonymous tour! Our content is absolutely real, no doubt (for 100%!!!): Shocking Family Photos, Black and White Retro Photos Content, HOT incest Movie Clips, Incest Family Stories and more. My Daddy is a real sexual monster... He can fuck me 5-6 times a day... And his crazy brother always draw me and my daddy. In the beginning I didn't like that, but then I felt myself pleased.

Now if that one doesn’t make you want to stick your head in a gas oven, I don’t know what will.

Friday, September 06, 2002

bunny luv   I   devin lane   I   lana lotts

Thank God it’s Friday.

The end of the week and I am cooked baby. Stick a fork in me, I’m done. I need a nap, a hug or something. I’ll let you know when I figure out what it is I’m looking for.

Like I haven’t spent half my life chasing a thing I cannot name already.

Hey, practice makes perfect, right? I’ll get it right sooner or later. Until then, it’s nothing but a steady diet of bike, boobs and beers for this bozo.

If you live anywhere near Brighton, Massachusetts and have nothing to do tonight, you might just want to check this out. I know I would.

From: Richard Subject: yea yea yea tonight is the night the place : The Bus Stop 252 Western Ave Brighton Ma time 5-7pm 3 hot tubs 3 strippers 2 tubs outside the bar on a semi low boy trailer 1 inside this is trough wzlx 100.7 prizzzzzes rolling stone tickets and a 6' hot tub the add is on all day today if u listen at 10 am the first break the add will be on.

Sounds like a good time to me. And I don’t know shit. Ask anyone.

My man Bruce tells me he would love to buy this guy a beer. "37 year old Belgian cyclist Ludo Giesberts has "beaten" the victory record of his compatriot Eddy Merckx…" Read more about it over at cyclingnews.com.

From: Clive Subject: A long fan of the site now wants in… Hey, not only a life long cyclist but "nude lady" fan... I have a little site I started last month and it's doing well enough. Please link me or give me a "type out !" Guy who supplies me works on a trade team and just called me from spain, saying chicks for the vuelta are hot beyond belief and they are partying their asses off every night " free drinks after 1 am if you have a race pass, perhaps you should get a few pics.????? Ciao Clive glorycycles.com

OK, baby. You are up and running. Nic pics on the site too. I’ve got the one of GodeFroot and Moser on the Koppenberg set as my desktop wallpaper right now. Those two guys are hard as nails.

And if you get some good Vuelta pics, send those fuckers in. I need new inspiration.

Thursday, September 05, 2002

nikki nova   I   aria giovanni   I   kystal steel

Stick a fork in me, I’m done. That aside, I have a new hotties gallery for your viewing pleasure. Click here to see it. Thanks to everyone who send in the pics. Without you, sniff, none of this would be possible.

Fuck. Lets get to the mail. Absolute shitload this week. Un-fucking-real.

From: Jason Subject: RE: stickas Yeah man, I'm drunk, stoned on percocets from busting the 'ol collarbone and can’t get riding out of head. Old saw bones says I have at least six weeks off the bike. I can barely go six hours. This is gonna be a long drunk six weeks. It'll be like being forced to ride your sisters pink huffy everyday to school or an endless grateful dead concert it just has to end. Took a digger off the bike in the Tsali of N.C. it just so happens with my atheist beliefs that a couple born again christians help me out and push my bike 3 miles back to my car. I don't know who I pissed off but it was pretty far out and after all don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Anyways the point of this letter is howabout a wool long sleeve jersey with some old retro lettering in black with yellow letters I know you'd be a sexy bitch in one and I don't even know ya. I’d be down for 2 1 for the old lady, eh probably rustle up a couple more orders we have single speed heaven up here. why not put out an interest banner/link on the site and check interest or do it with the money up front type thing. I'm trying to figure out who made this bike I have. It's fillet brazed and has sub-11 drops on it, steel of course. any ideas?

Anyone out there want a long sleeve wool jersey? Anyone out there know where you can still get that kind of stuff after Swobo tanked? I’ll start a new thread in the message board. You can tell me there.

From: Dave Subject: Africa scams Check this shit out... savannahsays.com/kizombe.htm From your process of obtaining absolute mastery of the 'Net...you may have already seen this. If not...enjoy.

No, I hadn’t seen that. Now if I hear back from my friend in need, I’ll just use that site as a reference to annoy. Hell, I might just start cutting and pasting it right in. I can’t wait.

My man dolomite sent in this fine link.

From: Ryan Spates Subject: World Report OK, I'm alive. Pretty much anyway. Tired as hell. Race went ok. I achieved my goal which was finishing. If you look at the results there were like 25 dnf's out of 80 competitors. Finishing was an accomplishment. I rode pretty steady until 5:00, when it started raining. Laps were 15 miles long for solo's, with the first 7 being uphill. That's not a typo. Across the top it was up and down on some ripin singletrack, then came the descent. As Paul VanDerheide said, "Before I cam up here I was worried about the climbing. now that I've ridden I'm worried about the descent." There were about 3 sections that should have been on a downhill course, not an XC course. KNarly. Then we went through a tunnel that was long enough you couldn't see through it. Then a climb under a ski lift and a singtrack section so steep and rooty, you had to ride granny, then into the expo area. So, about 8pm, it's pouring rain and I crash. I get up, get going again, only to come off again about 10 minutes later. Like sailing through the air into nothing, coming off. Caught myself on a tree, had to hike back to the trail, find the bike, etc. Got done about 8:45, still raining. AFter much debate on my part, I decide to wait out the rain, and sleep some. Initially, I thought a couple of hours, and it would be gone. Did I mention that it was about 45 degrees at this point? 2:00am, still raining 4:00am, still raining. 6:00am, still raining, knock on the door. I'm told to go down and help Kevin hold the EZ up in place. Wind is whippin throught expo at like 40+mph, and it's 10 degrees. (OK, that's celcius, but it sounds better) EZ ups are literally blowing away! 24hoursofadrenalin.com/newsarticle.cfm?id=210 THat's the link. See the Texas flag up on the little blue EZ up in the upper left hand corner? THat's me. Did one more lap on a muddy course. Pretty brutal. I finished 6th outta 8, so I'm happy. On a positive note, BC is beautiful. WE took a side trip on the way back. Not all the roads marked as paved on the BC Map are. Dirt road for 1.5 hours, but we saw a black bear. PRetty cool, and some awesome views. Bout shook the rental apart. Can't wait til next year.

Man oh man, that sounds pretty epic. Sorta like my man Tall Todd givin it hell for 100 miles.

From: travis Subject: Tall Todd does 100 Here is Legendary Tall Todd during the Shenandoah Mountain 100 At mile 90 iplayoutside.com/images/...3004.jpg and right at the beginning iplayoutside.com/images/...1079.jpg Sporting the Domenics shorts and all. And here is a DC Jersey...iplayoutside.com/images/...0119.jpg Evan got 23rd... Word on the street is it was tougher then Leadville... lots of climbing...

Anytime I get to see Tall Todd suffer, I want a piece of it. And now I have that piece. He looks a bit cracked, doesn’t he? He he he he. Get your ass in the locker and shut up.

And now from the man himself.

From: Tall Todd Subject: sm100 Hey my friend Travis just said that he sent you some stuff about me in the Shenandoah 100. It's a little embarrassing as i finished in 12+ hours. Good for the amount of fitness that I have, but so many other folks had such good rides, and i merely finished. I can fill you in on the details next weekend at the wedding. Are you bringing your MTB? If there is someone to talk about, it's my main man Evan. He was rocking the General Aggravation jersey to a strong low 20's position. Also check out the nut who rode the FIXED GEAR to a mid-30's place overall; just behind single-speed winner and general swell-guy Eric Roman. mountaintouring.com should get you there if you're interested. Then go to the SM100 link.

I’m thinking it’s the power of the dc jersey. Like when a man is elevated to put out the ride of his life when wearing the yellow jersey in the Tour, proper drunkcyclist apparel does the same. Todd, you really need what I got, baby. Next weekend, I’m all yours.

I’ll end it with this right here. This is the show stopper.

From: a colnago Subject: 4 weeks off then >>> snip. well fuck me ragged , in 4 weeks of not riding i`ve gone from dishing out the shit to having the living crap kicked out off me on the bike ,,,,,all started with a week of rain so bad i could not train , then i was on holiday for 2 weeks (the wife said the bike had could not go as i spend too much time on it any way )then fuck me , just as i get back from holiday open the mail there`s a letter from the hospital telling me theres a cancellation and i am in for the snip on the monday ,,,well thats another week off the bike because my balls swelled up like fucking balloons , u would not believe how big the bastard things can get ,,any way first time out on my bike(tues) a week after the opp was just to much as the road vibration was just too much to take so after a hour i went home,,so on thursday it was make or break time i bit the bullet and went on my chain gang ,,,, and the bastards toke much joy in there only chance to rip my legs off and have me breathing outta my arse , but they did not drop me .... :) ...... any way 2 weeks on and the balls r better but the legs are taking more than the lungs can give, but i`ll get back and i have the names in my head off the twats that stuck it on me , revenge will be sweet ,,,morale any way is don`t let any twat near your nuts with a syringe and a scalpel in white or any other colour for that matter .take a look at the opp in the link if u have the balls and no there not mine , which sick fuck would take his wife in to take some family snaps ??? my-vasectomy.com

Wednesday, September 04, 2002

tera patrick   I   jana cova   I   lesbo-rama

Jana Cova. Hot damn. More here. And then the stars and bars.

Ah boy. Take a pencil in you hands and snap it in half. That’s me right now.

Got some quality "jonny time" in today. Lots of time to be by myself, think about things in life and watch the group disappear up the road. Happened twice, actually. First time I got caught out on the little mole hill son of a bitch they call pistol hill. I’d like to shoot myself with a pistol anytime I’m near that whore. I went from a stomping 16.5, to 5 mph in about twelve seconds. It can be lonely at the back.

I could see hear Snake laughing as the door to the hurt locker slammed shut on me. I was sure it was him. But, when I squinted through the vents, I couldn’t see him anywhere. Sneaky little bastard, that Snake.

I sat up, ate a cliff bar, wrote a doctorate thesis on photosynthesis in my head and waited for someone to catch up to me. Two guys came up after awhile, mid bite of cliff bar I might add, making the jump to catch their wheel a bit harder than it needed to be. Now at least I had some compadres to ride with. For a little while anyway.

I hit the store, buy some water and race down the hill to catch the group. I’m here, cough, I’m tagged on, pant, weeee.

Gord Fraser flats and the whole thing stops. I mean stops. I’m standing on the side of the road, looking out across the valley at the hill I’m about to get dropped on for the second time today. This fucking sucks.

That is the difference between pro guys and porn guys.

Quote of the day: "Pull it over tough guy. I’ll kick your ass, rape ya, take your cars keys and your wallet."

Tuesday, September 03, 2002

tabatha jordan   I   veronica vanoza   I   sydney moon

Well, I changed the layout around here a bit. Put up some new title gif RoCket Boy sent over. Good looking out man.

I figure anytime you start changing large portions of your website around, your gonna get royally screwed somehow. This will be no exception I’m sure. Let me know not if, but when you start finding broken links and the like.

I think it should all work. But, you can see how far thinking has got me in the past.

I was uploading a metric assload of new code last night, just sitting here watching nothing really happen. So, I thought, fuck it. It seems to be plodding along OK. I’ll just queue up the rest of the new shit and go to bed. By the time I wake up it should all be in place. Easy as 1, 2, 3.

Yeah, right. I queued it all right. I went to bed, woke up and a sum total of dick worked. Nothing fucking happened. I spent the first hour of my day trying to sort it all out. Son of a bitch computers. Fucking things are supposed to make my life easier, not make me want to stick my head in a gas oven. Email. Gods little gift.

From: Drake Subject: [no subject] It's been eating at me all day. We talked this morning about my old girl friend with the banana up her twat in 23 of your gallery. I was thinking if you still had the original e-mail. It's a long shot but I had to try.

Well, I have no idea where I got that pic. I figure one of you fucks out there sent it to me in an email. Drake here would like to know it anyone can direct him to the site, or share more pics I guess. Just throw any responses on the message board or email me. Or, send up smoke signals. That ought to be effective.

Go have a look at the Cat 4 Tales by Rich Pink.

And check this out too. You’ll like it.

Monday, September 02, 2002

um?   I   adrianna gabriella   I   nikki nova

Read about Big Tex Tullous right fucking at velonews.com. And then hit azcyclocross. Check the podium pic, mid calf black sock.

In a word, pimp.

You know, I've always wondered just what in the hell a top selling marijuana alternative actually is.

I mean, what is that stuff? It ain’t weed, so what could it be?

And then you’ve got shit like this to contend with.

From: Finch Subject: Click here sublimedirectory.com/stimes Click on 'Pump It Up!' Woooohoooo- huh??

I don’t know what the fuck I just watched. Her labia is swollen up like a catchers mitt for Christ’s sake. What was that thing she used on herself, a toilet plunger?

Too fucking much.

Looks like a big email morning here at the drunkcyclist world headquarters. Otherwise known as my apartment. Lets keep this thing rolling.

From: John Subject: Endorsement from the Hedgehog!!! Hey, have a look at this, click the link below. pleasurebox.tzo.com:8080/ramgen/jeremy1.rm If you can't see the video above then you need the free RealPlayer 8

Dude, you fucking rule. What more can I say?

From: Wally Subject: A bunch of music for you XM Radio click to listen xmradio.com/wmp_skin/wmp_skin.jsp?type=&volumelvl=5&channel=14 This is the url you might want to copy it and open it in Internet Explore. Turn on your speakers and enjoy.

That is too cool. Never will I get bored of the same old cd’s again.

From: Carl Subject: My birthday gift to you. Big Jonny, Yeah, I just turned the big three-o today and I'm doin all the giving. Story of my life. Anyways here's a semi-decent ass-chick on a bike: freepics.free.fr/pics/nob/nob.html Not bad for a frenchie but where's the thumbnails? I'm off for a quick ride and then put a hurtin on my liver.

Well, happy birthday. I hope it was a good one. And this will be my present to you. I like the part where it says, "when I turned 18, I knew I wanted to be a pornstar."

From: Malcolm Subject: Fake help for Zimbabwean farmers You are right in concluding that stuff from the so-called Zimbabwean farmer is a scam. These scams from Africa have hit the United Kingdom for many years, in various forms, ever since we (UK) stopped running Africa. They are usually letters to some ex-pat from Nigeria. So just ignore it! Malcolm Fairly drunk, but heading for the fridge for more beer.

What’s the fun in simply ignoring the bastard when I can avalanche him with my love of Jesus? I’m just waiting for this guy to ask me for my bank account number. I think I’m going to tell him banking is the work of the Devil and his money lending henchmen.

I keep my money in an old sock under the mattress. I’ll pray for you, Mr. Mullette Head. I pray you are saved.

See, that’s way more fun.

And check out this months most popular search strings.