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That commercial, and many more, are available for instant download over here at mindlesscrap.com. You feelin' it? So, we had a little food, a little wine and an all around good time on the town. Yeah buddy. Saturday morning in the northland only means one thing: Group ride. We rode out Lake Mary road and around Mormon Lake. Snake was throttling the bunch as he is the Gord Fraser of Flagstaff. Every ride needs a hardest man, the one everyone wants to beat up the hills and in every sprint. I went for the Lantern Rouge, the big red caboose, the back end of the train, the last one up the hill and the last one 'round the corner. I pulled it off. I got dropped on the way out, and then dropped on the way back. I rule. And you know you hit the big time when you're rolling through town on your bike and a UPS driver yells out your name. I'm bad. I'm nationwide.
So, until then, I'll be updating as much as I can and trying to get through the emails as I can as well. Today's inbox, a mere 56 emails. I'm on easy street. The plan for today is a good one. Watch the Giro. Eat muffins and drink coffee. Take a shower at Snake's place. I've got water at the new pad, but no gas hooked up yet, so it'd be a cold ass shower up in the piece. I get in a ride. Open a new bank account. And, then I'll round out the whole experience with unpacking the garbage I call my belongings.
I've just about got my bikes sorted out as well. The two most important ones are working, the road and mountain bike. Pretty much, anyway. The road bike could use a little tlc, and might get some of it later today if time allows. The balance of the ten odd bikes are pretty much fucked. I think it's actually up to twelve these days. And four of them are Angie's, so I don't catch too much flack. Shannon sent in this link to a ton of Jenna galleries. There are some pop up issues with some of it, so be aware of that little problem. It's Jenna, so it's probably worth it in the end. At least it is for me. Here is a letter I read twice and still don't understand.
And, just because the Giro coverage has ended, the coffee has all been drank and I'm itching to go ride, I'm wrapping up this little update with another email. Call me lazy, call me stupid, just don't call me late for dinner.
Ragbrai. Is it time to figure that one out already? Jesus, we are a bunch of idiots. All of us that went last year collectively have no idea what we're doing. Ton's of people want to go out from Arizona, but we have no set plan. Just rumors about someone getting a bus and fuck if I know. I've got a couple of emails to write on the subject it seems, and at least one in my inbox from some fine Midwest folk I just received this morning. I've got to figure out who's all going, and how the fuck we're pulling this off this year. Planes, trains and automobiles. God damn I love Iowa in the summer time. We'll sort it out somehow.
I saw one oh eight in Phoenix as I headed back up to Flagstaff. I couldn't get out of that shit fast enough. Fucking totally sucked dick. Now, I'm almost cold. I won't be sweating as I try and fall asleep tonight and I'll need to wear a long sleeve jacked when I ride tomorrow morning. Can you believe it? It's good to be back in the northland. Oh yes it is.
Yeah, where are you going to ride with 70 women on a Thursday? Why aren't I riding with 70 women every Thursday? What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm afraid to listen to that song. You know, just in case I get it stuck in my head like you did. That would be bad. Very bad. Oh fuck it, I'm gonna listen to it. And, dear God it was worse than I thought. Wouldn't you know it, I played about six seconds of the track and Bensey (who's internet connection I am heavily dependent on these days) turns from his computer, and says, "Are you listening to the old Glass Tiger?" Did I mention he's on the phone right now as well? How does this guy do it? He's got skillz.
You fucking guys rule. Why aren't I going to mustache action parties? I could be doing that after my weekly ride with 70 cuties. That's going to be my new thing, dontcha know. As soon as I get around to growing something on my lip a pool boy could wear with pride. The ride Todd, the Gnome and I planned at the bar last night didn't happen this morning as sunlight made everything in my worldhurt. Beer = pain.
Yeah, I was a mess this morning as well. Gnomie and I closed out that bar. When I woke up at five am outside on the porch, I was no longer in show room condition. It was grim business. Ugh. That Gnome hits pretty hard 'cause I'm a bit bruised up. Damn little bastard. Feisty, ain't he?
What the fuck am I talking about? I dunno. It's hot as fuck in my old, Gnomes new apartment. Fucking swamp cooler doesn't appear to be doing jack shit about it either. Does this thing go any higher? Does this amp go to eleven? Well, it fucking should. I can feel the life draining out of me. Ugh. I've been loading up the car with the last of my shiznit. I can't fit my bed or my computer desk in the Buick, so it'll be up to the Gnome to drive that up later this week. Now that I've procured that oh so valuable Flagstaff floor space I expect to have a lot of visitors. It's already way over a hundred in Tucson, Tempe and Phoenix. You could fucking cook and egg on the sidewalk today I'm sure. Fuck that shit. Snake wanted me to mention that Justin was the first winner on the last stage of the Summit Center Classic on Monday. Not the first loser, but the first winner. Good work my man. Moved him all the way up to seventh. And, Snake took home the first place trophy. He is a hard man and I am now afraid to ride with him anymore. It was scary before, but now I know he can kill people with his bare hands. I don't need that added pressure. I've got enough to friggin worry about these days. Here are the results from the Flagvelo webpage. Also from this weekend, a write up on my man Ron over at spokepost. Hey look, I got mentioned in a velonews article. Am I big time or what? And, how cool is this cooks bros. ride? Fuck, I gotta go steal something and get my grubby hands on a couple of extra bucks for one of those. Soon. Fuck it. Tonight, we drink.
You can certainly do worse. And I soon will. Tonight I leave for Tucson. Taking my last EMT test at 8:00 am tomorrow. Then, I'll load up the car with the balance of my bullshit from down south, hang with the boys and head back up north. Yep, I'm moving to Flagstaff. Hot dog. Check out bike journal.
It's been a fun couple of days up in the northland. Now I've got to blaze a trail for the Old Pueblo just so I can get up real early and barf out a whole lotta fucking information I'd just as soon not know in the first place. But, I wanted to be an EMT didn't I?. I'm really looking forward to sleeping on the Garden Gnome's front porch tonight. Anything has got to be better than the five thirty fridge door routine I get at this place. Well, it's get up and take test. Then, I'm free to do whatever I want. I figure I'll be so drunk by noon I won't know my own name.
Here's the talk around the trailer as best as I can type it while Coldplay is on the tv. We've got another round of Kung Faux in a half an hour so I've got to hurry up with this shit and get ready to laugh my fucking ass off for a half an hour. Justin starts off this little trip down memory lane, "We started out going downhill, and big fat guys go downhill fast, so they all tried to get away then." "I got away then!", Bensey chimes in. "And then after the downhill we swept them up on the climb and followed Dru's tempo for 15 miles", continues Justin. "Dru was our tempo man and lead out man today. He led us all out right off his wheel." This leads into Justin, Snake and Bensey reminiscing about how much pain Dru Miller was able in cause, pretty much whenever the mood hit him. Now, Dru just raced at Iron Horse Saturday morning, got second to Tom Danielson by two minutes, got in his car, drove for five hours back to Flagstaff, woke up, raced here and beat down anyone he wanted to. Dru Miller is the man. Bensey's eighth place was well defended by his Flag Velo team mates. They pretty much attacked him and promptly dropped him immediately following the turn around. Good looking out. He went on to finish in the 20's while his team mates came in two minutes ahead of him. Did I mention Bensey was the highest placed GC rider for Flag Velo at the beginning of the stage? Steps to dropping your team mate.
a) Make sure your team mate is in the middle of the group. Justin brought home another "behind Jake" finish. Good looking out. You're still a bastard. Just 'cause him and Penis Looker wanted to spend one last night together I ended up sleeping on the kitchen floor last night. I'm not bitter. No, not in the slightest. Why would I let that bother me? Well, how about because at five o'clock this morning Snake woke me up by opening the fridge door and hitting me with it a couple of times? That pretty much sucked. But then he made coffee and everything was buttery smooth up in this piece all over again. I had to wait until 7:30 to go riding because it wasn't even 45 degrees outside. How's that sound to all my down south boys in Tucson and Phoenix? I was to cold to ride. Ha! I'll bet you guys are really lovin' me about now with that hundred and six degree bullshit that hit Phoenix last week. But, don't worry, I'll get up early again tomorrow and have to wear a jacket again 'cause I'm all shiverin' and shit. Suckers.
Larry sent in this link to the porn banner showcase. Just punch up pages 1 through 5 on the navigation bar and start laughing. It's funnier than hell and it's part of the no apologies collection of nuttiness. Tons of good stuff on that site. Be sure to check out the crazy asian drinks, like this tasty little beverage called the basil seed drink. I'm getting excited about moving into my new pad next week. Not that I'm about living in a trailer with a couple of guys. That part of all this is a dream come true, like joining the Navy or performing in a Village People tribute band. A life long goal, really.
It sounds like went like hell to me. My man Snake is getting all kinds of shit around the trailer this evening. Justin the friggin' Jackass keeps calling him "first loser" for his second place finish. Of course Justina finished a strong "after Jake". Yeah right buddy. I asked Snake where Justina finished and all he could say was, "I dunno. I was throwing up." I missed a damn good day of racing while I was a at work. Man, I've had a good run of unemployment. It's a damn shame to see it end like this. I even missed someone trying to grab two water bottles in the feed zone by taking both hands off the bars, and yeah, grabbing two bottles. He hit the deck on that one. I won't mention his name, 'cause I feel bad for him and all. Maybe tomorrow, when his ego mellows out a bit. Poor bastard. I did get to sort out his bike afterwards when Wolf dropped it off at the shop. Bent up wheel, bent derailler hanger, big time whoops. Good times. Go check out the Save Otero Canyon petition. You'll be doing a good thing, helping those guys fight the good fight and all that. Today's quote.
This in from Ken, spike bike. If you don't like the links where you actually have to read, at least check out part 12. And, just when you think you've seen it all. You find this. My man Ullrich is now in the Tour. How fucking cool is that? One last thing, for those of you in the know, did you see Pantani coming out like the "blue wolf" today?
I start working at a bike shop this weekend. I'm actually looking forward to getting back in the game. Everyone and there brother will be in town for the Summit Center Classic. This trailer is about to get like canned ham. I should have some race updates on Saturday night. I may have to find alternative sleeping arrangements tonight. This will be a bit much I think. I like a little more privacy with the wife from time to time. I think six people in a single wide is over the top. But, what the hell do I know? I got so friggin trounced by Snake yesterday my legs still hurt. Well, that and 8 hours of rolling paint on a ceiling. Yeah, that pretty much gets the arms burning pretty good. I'm feeling that shit. I am looking forward to seeing my main man Justin the Jackass. He'll be in town for most of next week, and that only means one things. Big pain.
Thanks to all of you who tool the time to explain that whole tax rebat thing a little bit. And I'm out…
And then he beat me in the city limit sprint. When I say "beat", I mean he blew my fucking doors off. He led it out for about the last half mile at least. 53 x 12. Unreal. Then he jumped. I jumped. He didn't open the huge gap he usually does. I wasn't all that off. I was close. I was throwing everything I had into it. A car passed us, he swung over into the car's draft and I tried to come around his right. Yeah, sure, I had about a snow balls chance in hell. He turned to gloat, and I think I may have seen surprise in his eyes that I was still there, not nearly as far back as I usually am. And then, it was over. The sign flashed past and I was coasting. Oh God. I can't steer straight. I thought I was going to collapse in the gutter. Fucking shit fuck. I just somehow spun out a 53 x 12, and I know that was all the gear he had as well. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I asked him about the sprint a mile or two up the road when I had regained my composure and could actually make words come out of my mouth and make sentences. He looked at me and said, "That wasn't a sprint". "Well, what the fuck do you call spinning out your highest gear then? I was in the twelve!" "I call it not being in the eleven." And so it goes. There was another big effort on the way back into town, on some God damn hill by the hospital. I went as hard as I could and got dropped like I was standing still. This man is an animal. I have to mention, this is some bad news. Our hearts go out to the friend and family of Haruko Fujinaka. Here is today's joke.
Drew sent me this link and said this is Tiger Wood's babe. I don't know if it's true or not, but God damn that is one hot chick. Shannon says "click the link". Yeah, I can see why he said that. And this is a bike hottie. And how fucking stupid is a tax break for buying a big, ditch pig SUV? What are we fucking doing for ourselves?
Chip sent me this link and said, "Garry Maddox is a shmuck. And his ribs are awful." They may taste bad, but after reading that I suddenly am very hungry. Did I already post this? Fuck it. The Jersey Devil says, "Here's a link for all the butt shots you want from galleries 1 thru 31. Have fun!" So, just change it from 001 to 002 and so on for a metric assload of ass galleries. If you're into that sort of thing, that is. Oh, so now we are going to research some new nuclear weapons? I thought they were bad and no one should have them? Or is it, no one can have them except us?
Truth be told, I ain't much of a bike racer. Ask anyone in Arizona. They've all blown my doors clean off. Even most of the girls. I like this. (???) And how fucking crazy is this shit? I'd say it borders on evil. A fine day in Flagstaff all in all. I was awoken at 5:20 am by 'lil Tatonka stepping over me on her way to work. Yeah, I was laying on the floor. Then Snake gets up about a half an hour later and starts rolling Bensy's office chair into my head over and over again. He really enjoyed that. I think it was a bit of revenge for me hitting his cot with the door to my refrigerator all winter down in Tucson. Now, the tables have turned. I'm on his floor and he is out for vengeance. Oh, it sucks to be me right now. There was a ride today. One highlighted with the discovery that Tatonka suffers from exercise induced asthma. I have the same problem myself. It's a grand old time, let me tell you. There is nothing quite like having your chest tighten down to the point where you cannot breath. It's just the fucking tops. I think I need one of these. That is just a sweet looking ride. I like it a whole lot, and the fact that it stands for such a victory, a milestone in American cycling is just totally cool. Why is it I have to turn to British media, like the Guardian to get a clear idea of what is happening in the world? Let's leave it tonight with some fine pics of the ups girl from a fine website called throatpunch.com.
Don't ask me to explain it, but for some reason the site pretty much tanked itself when I was on the road last week. I noticed the homepage wouldn't come up while I was in Idaho. And I couldn't do much about it from where I was, so I just had to sit there like an idiot and stew about it for the last three days. Thanks to all of you that wrote in to let me know. I'm not dead. I'm not in jail. And the Justice department hasn't set their crosshairs on me. Yet. Aside from all that excitement, where do I even begin? The Sixers are done, damn it all to hell. But, as a consolation prize, the Lakers are out too. At least I have that to be thankful for. Anyone want to guess on email? Not to bad really. Mostly since I was able to get into it day before yesterday and actually read a respond to a few before I got back to Arizona. I've got 90 unread, brand spanking new emails. Piece of cake. I've had much worse than that. Check it out, the Az boys kick some ass out of state. Oh, I always knew they would. In my man Ron Hudson's own words, "Drew is a great rider…one of the best. You’ve got to respect his ability. I think that right now he can beat anyone in the country." Yeah baby. Fucking Jake just drank the last beer. Cocksucker. Now I'm down to his liquor cabinet. And that, my friends, is a scary proposition.
Being on the road in American means no Giro coverage. You can't exactly crack open the sports page out at the truck stop and read about the days highlights. It's a damn shame too. So, I'm online down at the University of Idaho. Yeah, I'm pretty much in a basement cubicle of some student who has already left for the summer. Good times. I see I missed one hell of a close finish today. And the fucking Sixers lost, bastard fucks. Fuck me. God damn it. Ok, I'm much better now. My heads to blown to even start relating the past 48 hours in any coherent fashion. Lemme see, I took my second to last test for my EMT class on Tuesday morning, got something to eat and loaded up the Blue Bomber. I pointed it north to Flagstaff, tossed all the shit out into Snake and Bensy's back yard out at their trailer. Snake loaned me a tarp to cover it with and even helped me get it over the pile of garbage I call my belongings. Then, at 9:00 p.m. Snake hit me off with 32 ounces of freshly pressed coffee and I headed north again. I drove to 4:00 am, pulled into a Flying J truckstop in some shithole Utah town. I think it was either Provo or Orem. I can't remember which. I slept till 6:00 am, and headed north again with a full tank of gas. Things were cool up through SLC, Ogden, Tremonton. The stretch from Pocatello to Butte is a killer. It just sucked. I thought it would never fucking end. Then, I scored a big ass cup of coffee and some chocolate covered donuts in Missoula. Headed west out of town, up and over Lolo pass, down into Idaho. This is where it really started to get interesting. The sleep deprivation, tons of sugar and caffeine had me on tilt. Full tilt. When the radio stations all fuzzed out down in the narrows of the river valley I popped in a Modest Mouse tape and eat three more donuts. I'm banging on the steering wheel, singing along and leaning as I throw the Blue Bomber into the curves. The sun is shining, birds are singing. I almost hit a goose in the road, then a big ass turkey. A couple of deer whiz by and the rain starts. Still bright sunlight, but raining. The windshield wipers are at their highest setting and it ain't doing much. I can see all right as it is bright as could be with all this sunshine. I've got the window open and water streams in all over me, the door panel and the seat. Me and the car are smelling a bit ripe by now, so this is a welcome change. I look down and I'm pushing 80 on the straights and staying above 70 in the gentle sweeping corners along the Lochsa river. I'm pretty much out of my head at this point. It was fun, I'll tell you that much. I calmed down after a while, and resigned myself to the task at hand. One hundred and seventy miles to go. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. I (finally) got nailed for 72 in a 55 coming up in Orofino. Ah, Orofino, where you could own your own bar for a mere 170 large. Getting that ticket pretty much sucked, but fuck it, I somehow made it past about three hundred cops in four states since yesterday morning. At least he didn't get my when I was pushing 90. I think I scared the poor guy with my unwashed, greasy hair pointing every which way and darting, bloodshot eyes. I handed him not one, but three different expired registration papers in a row as he would glance over it, notice the date I couldn't seem to read and hand it back to me, saying, this is no good. I need you current registration. I fished around in the glove box with my sticky, chocolate covered right hand for something that looked promising and kept coming up with maps of Idaho, receipts for oil changes and other bullshit. I looked every bit of the drug smuggler I hope to someday be. He didn't take his hand to far away from his pistol for a good long time on that traffic stop. 7:30 at night and I hit Moscow. I'm completely unable to sit still or engage in a conversation. In short, I'm a trainwreck. I did manage some meaningful grunts and gestures. Just glad to be here folks, you're a great crowd tonight. I've got to say, I wasn't much to see at the bar. A drooling mess, pretty much. After the first rum and coke came across the bar like some bad joke, I told the lady, I wanted a strong one. Make this one worth it. I want it clear when I hold it up to the light and look through the glass sideways. "Clear?", she asks, turning downthe sides of her mouth. I pointed to the side of the glass and said, fill it to here with Morgans. She looked at me, and said, "Like a double?" Yeah, double, whatever. On the double, you fucking retard. Can't you see I'm a desperate man? I slept in a fucking parking lot last night and I've been downing massive amount of coffee and diet cola all damn day. Fuck, this bar sucks ass. Why am I having a hard time getting drunk in a bar? And, $7.50 for a pitcher of God damned Budweiser? Fuck me running. Anyway, I made good and sure I'd sleep well that night. On to the mail, as I've got little else to say.
Now, this is fucking horrible. Same thing here. I got an email from Scott who has a little project he calls "The Tour Baby!" He was very excited to tell me about a little sumptin' sumptin' he put together just for drunkcyclist. This is a video promo clip of a "very hot Euro babe on Alpe d' Huez clapping for the boys" back in the 2001 Tour de France. He says, "Lance had just passed by and she seemed very excited by the whole affair."
Well, sweetness, I can't make the ride as I'm a couple of thousand miles north of you right now. I'll have to take a rain check on that one. I'll try and rest up while I'm gone so I can try and stay on your wheel a little better when we meet again.
Flagstaff's own Scott Keller finished a fine 12th in the collegiate championship. Good looking out Scott. It's all about fairness really. At least, that's how I see it. I still don't understand why people seem to like this idea of tax breaks. I mean, really. So many states in our wonderful union are hurting, and hurting bad. So, the solution is to give away a good portion of the inadequate funds we collectively have now? What I'm trying to say is when you make less money than you used to, you don't fix the problem by buying a new television. Not when you still have a house payment, car note and insurance for the kids to consider. I just doesn't make any God damned sense. At the end of my test this morning, some classmates and I went out for some breakfast at I-Hop. I had a couple of pancakes, eggs a bacon. A fine breakfast for what lies ahead. What lies ahead for me is packing up the clapped out bomb Buick and carting a whole load of my crap up to Flagstaff. Then, I'm pushing onward towards Idaho. I'll be kicking it in Boise this next weekend if everything goes according to plan. And it rarely does around here. My man Dave told me today, "There's nothing better than washing my truck and listening to country music." Right on. Here is an email from Big Dave.
Did you see the athlete octane commercial on oln this morning? Yeah buddy, go DT. Zeke sent me this link and said, "just in case your an ass man." Well, I'm an ass man now, baby. And don't make any plans while you downloading that page. Fucking thing has been going for five whole minutes on my high speed connection here at the sweatbox, and it ain't even done yet. I mean, that's a couple of hundred pics right there. Whoever put that one together has a one track mind. Dare I say I'm bored of ass looking at all this? How much it too much? Is it ever too much? Holy shit! Stefano Garzelli wins! Holy shit! After a morning like this, a ride is in order. I met up with Justine and his sidekick PL. That's "PL" as in "penis looker". It's like she can't help herself, the poor thing. After PL tired of halfwheeling me for the first hour, she turned for home. Me, I had more in me and continued out towards the Mission. Met up with a few more folks, as one often does in this cycling mecca we call the Old Pueblo. I've got to start hitting the books for my final tomorrow. Oh, what joy. Happiness abounds in the sweatbox today. Lemme tell you. Hopefully the handyman will show from the property management company I faithfully write a check to each month and fix my broken swampcooler. No swampy, no beuno. I don't think I can handle another day like yesterday. Ugh. I was a bit on the stale side in here 'round about midafternoon. Please, dear God, deliver my from evil and bring on the sweet, cool lovin' that only a evaporative cooler set on full blast can provide my soul. And, I should probably say "hello" to Maynard who tells me he'll be checking out the 'ol drunkcyclist today for the first time ever. You know, he told me I'm famous. Ha! I'm the brokest, lamest, hungriest, weakest, fattest and soberest famous guy you will ever meet. You have my word on that.
Today was another good stage. A win by Fabio Baldato? Nice hook McEwen. For fucks sake, the odd on him must have been 10:1. Or even longer than that. My money man for the race? I picked Aitor Gonzales at 4.5:1. I like the guy, and fuck, I'll take those odds any fucking day. They still have Garzelli at 6:1. I can't believe he's that far out. Want a piece of tomorrow's action? Check out mrbookmaker.com. If Pantani pulls when out of his ass, it's paying 14:1. Am I the only one thinking the Giro is more exciting than the Tour? Today's jokes.
In heaven, everything's all right. In heaven, everything is fine. Just sitting in this stinking sweatbox hellhole with the Gnome. A couple of regular guys sitting around in a one bedroom apartment with a broken swampcooler. In Tucson, in May. This is so fucking gay I can't stand it. Rode up Mt. Lemon today. Well, not really all the way up or anything like that. Just to mile post eleven. By that time Big M, the Gnome and I had enough of the fun and turned that bitch around for ice cold colas at Circle K. God bless Circle K. I'll tell ya, one of the best thing about riding around Tucson on a road bike is rolling up on a convenience store and eating junk food. I bought a honey bun today for .89 cents that proudly proclaimed it had been voted "pastry of the year" by someone somewhere for some reason. That fucker packed a punch at 630 calories. Wash on of them down with 32 ounces of fountain Pepsi and maybe toss town a .39 cent Ding Dong looking son of a bitch and you are ready to fucking rock. I love that shit. If it wasn't for bikes, I'd weight in at a 265. Just like my old man. I saw the Gnome just about crack today. He was having no damn fun at all on Lemon. Well, who does have fun on that bitch anyway? Well, maybe a wingnut, straight outta Compton mother fucker like Ron Hudson. I saw him bombing down when I was crawling up. I yelled and waved, but he didn't recognize the largeness and kept up his Il Falco impersonation on down the road. If a Hudson goes 50 downhill while a fat ass goes 10 up, and fatass yells something to Hudson, and a tree falls in the forest, will anyone hear it in Chicago on a west bound train? Riddle me this shit, batman. I'll give you a hint, the answer is no. Today was the state crit championship. Word on the street is my man Doug Loveday took home the jersey for the Cat 1's. And that big Jackass Justine got pipped in the sprint, came in second. I don't know much anything else about the other categories. At least not yet. It's Mother's Day, did you phone up your Ma today?
Would you believe I just drove back from Flagstaff? Yeah, I drove a car load of crap up there last night and came back today. Hey, what's a couple of hundred miles when you've got so much to talk to yourself about? I think I might be slowly going insane. But, don't say anything. The "others" might hear you. And, we wouldn't want that, now would we? Congratulations to Maren, Sam and Marsha who all completed their undergraduate education this semester. Good luck, ladies. Thanks to Sean for this next couple of links. The first one is, well, just fucking read it. I'm dyin' over here. Harrrr!!! Now, the second one is, well, just read that too. Good times. And, holy shit, how friggin fast is Petacchi? Today's joke.
Well, that's it. I'm stuffed. I'm going to bed. I am such a fucking loser.
Nick wrote in and told me this site was "nice, nice, nice". Since I have the attention span of a mosquito, I haven't managed to join the site and see what they have to offer. What was I just saying? I know I've linked this "find your playmate of the month" site thing before. But, it was probably like two years ago so fuck it. I'll just link it again. My home state of Pennsylvania is now considering removing all French wines from sale. It's called House Resolution 119 and it's one of the fucking stupidest things I've ever heard in my life. And, of course, Bill O'Reilly thinks it's a great idea. Even though he just had to have someone explain to him how the state liquor control board works in Pennsylvania. Way to do your homework, Bill. Now, I don't exactly do my homework around here, but I'm just an asshole sitting in a one bedroom apartment posting porn links and writing about my stupid bike. He's on a national television show. The burden is on him. Fucking asshole. O'Reilly says no one should buy French products because they have put "my family in danger". Yeah, that's a stretch. They didn't think Iraq should be bombed senseless and overrun because they didn't buy the "weapons of mass destruction" line. And did we find any of those weapons? Huh? So, I've decided to buy French products whenever I get a chance. Boycott this, you fucking prick O'Reilly. Viva la Tour.
Ah, damn. That is a lot of friggin movies. Looks like I'm busy for a while. My man Matt calls this the "the most wrong horrible flash animation I have seen in a while". I have to agree with him on his assessment. Anyone for a little Alpe d Huez action? This is from the 2001 Tour. Ah hell, try this. The Tour Baby! Promo Clip. Looks like fun spectating there, doesn't it? Ah fuck, what is the world coming to? Drive-by pervert assaults 5 women. I love the line, "3 of the victims were accosted by tubby biker within one hour in Center City". Now, I know something like that can scare ya a bit, but come fucking on. "I just feel so violated," the second victim, a 25-year-old woman said. "It was just really gross. I can still feel it. It's been almost 12 hours and I can still feel his hand. I have bruises on my breast." Get over it already. I've been hit by coke cans, rocks, oranges and smacked right across my ass this year. All by some prick in a car while I was riding my bike down the street. So, deal with it sister. It really ain't that bad. You can still function in society. My friend Michele tells me the sketch reminded her of me. I guess I am now a known assgraber. Ladies, consider yourselves warned. The grabber prowls the streets.
This is one that requires reading. It's good, and I'll give you a little taste. "The problem is that the intellectuals, the people who really do have some sort of education, the atavists and elitists like me who do read, don't understand that they are surrounded by people who are bone-stick-stone stupid. Every time we have some lunatic run amok and shoot someone, when we have kids in schoolyards blowing each other's asses off, everybody says, "What was the reason? What was the motivation?" There is no fucking motivation! The world is turning into a cesspool of imbeciles! The genetic pool has been so hideously polluted, and we have condoned all of it—every bit of stupidity from bad movies and cheap novels and shit fast food to rap music to pretending that the gun lobby is not an evil and insidious operation that serves the gunmakers..." Yeah, it's a good one. Check it out. But, you might want to just skip it if you're looking for something along the lines of naked chicks and the like.
Damn dude, you're really doing your homework. Good looking out. I can appreciate a man who digs up the fine ass porn galleries like you do. Since I spent a good five hours taking a final on Tuesday, I decided I should ride at least five hours both Wednesday and Thursday. I figure, fuck them for taking my day. I managed to do just that, but try as I might, today's ride was only 4 hours. Ok, 4:15. But, it ain't fucking five. Yeah, I'm a fucking retard. Pretty much yeah. How about some road signs.
Yeah, I remember. Good ride at the two-four. And about that drinking contest: Bring it on. This is funnier than hell. Who put the freak in french fries? Yeah baby. Brought to you by orsm.
Scott, thanks for fighting the good fight. I've been checking out the Noan Chomsky archive today. Good stuff. How about some race report action from the Tour of the Gila? Oh yeah, it's some tasty shit.
Ah, Michele, you forgot to include the pic of yourself. Thanks to cyclingnews.com for all the pics.
This guy Rick Santorum is from Pennsylvania. And so am I. Thing is, we're a bit different. You ride alone, you ride with Hitler. And then some. Two upcoming events worth mentioning. The state crit coming up Sunday, May 11th. And two races up in Snowflake on June 21st and 22nd. I like bikes. I don't know which came first, my desire to ride bikes, or my desire to give drivers the finger. Some one is living the vida loca.
My man Bruce sent me this link. Tough call on that one. Although I support the First Amendment, I still want to beat that prick Rob Black to death with a baseball bat. I'm not down with rape films or any of the other drivel that schmuch makes. But, that's just me. So, tough call. I guess he had a right to make it. And people have a right to watch it. But, can I smack him with a Louisville slugger just a couple of dozen times? I mean, he is an asshole. I'd be doing the world a favor. Of course, that's why Larry Flynt is in a wheelchair. Ah, fuck it. I'm going to ride my bike today. Fuck it all. How about a funny funny site? This pretty funny. Ok, it's really funny. Check it. The Boss lays it down. These guys are some mountain bikers in Finland. How cool is that? I'll just leave it at this.
Click if you want to see a pic of Spanky keepin' it real.
Single Speed Championship coming up in another couple of weeks. Check it out here. One final in the books. Oh dear Christ, that sucked. I'm doing the same bullshit the Gnome just finished. Fucking thought we wanted to be emts. Oh, we a couple of real smart mother fuckers, the Gnome and I. It took six hours to get my little class through the practical hands on assessment bullshit today. Six fucking hours of head crushing nonsense. None of the instructors can hold a candle to my God damn brilliance and they're telling me what to do. Fuck them. Fuck them all. Ok, one guy is all right. One out of maybe seven people over there. One. The rest can fucking go to hell for all I care. I'm this bitter and I passed my tests. I even have an A in the fucking class. And I want them all dead. Bastards. The Flyers are out. Damn it. At now the Sixers are going down to Detroit. Give me something to friggin live for. What the fuck is happening to all my teams? At least the Lakers lost last night. I slept well after watching that action.
Talent apply within. I need some friggin stress release. More of the same over here at matt999.com. How crazy is this shit. This is so beyond anything I've ever seen. I only pray this wasn't Bensy in high school. Him and Snake are a little bit to excited about this x-men matrix shit coming out. Fucking guys. I shouldn't say too much. They can drop me on a bike whenever the mood hits them. And it seems to hit them a lot. How about a link to more porn than you can shake a stick at? Yeah, I thought you'd like that one.
That is some horrible, horrible news. Our hopes and prayers here at drunkcyclist go out to his friends and family. I hate to hear about stuff like that. Not so much hearing about it, but that it even happens in the first place. Lets lighten up a bit and talk about high calorie food.
I think I'm pretty into Little Debbie these days. But, I'm also down with a big ass salami sandwich. Yeah, now we're talking about long burn. Yeah, this is great. Well, not really. But this is. I'll leave it tonight with this little gem. Check it out.
Cinco de Fucking Mayo. I saw my man Ron Hudson at the finish of the Gila yesterday. He was a good 40 minutes down and decided to go for it. He went out on his own for a good half an hour I hear. He got caught by a group at the bottom of the cliff dwellings and stayed with that as it whittled down to a select six. He was in the move of the day. And then, in Ron's own words, "I hung it out a little to far on one of those corners." Off the road and ass over teakettle into a ditch. A pair of broken handlebars and that was the end of that. All she wrote, as they say. The final report is up at cyclingnews. Back in the saddle again. Ah, it's good to be home. I've only got one more load of laundry and a mere 153 emails to sort through. I am so fucking lucky. Like my man the Gnome says, I'm blowing it out of proportion. Once I cut through all the spammy-spam and other bullshit I've culled it down to a manageable 90ish. Yeah, a good third off all the stuff I get is straight crap. 'Cept of course, this one right here.
Flyers are starting to look bad tonight. Down four - one in the third and not showing much promise. But, at least the Sixers are still looking good. I've got the Giro starting in a week so I'm pretty pumped for that. I hear Hamilton isn't riding it. I think that is a mistake. He has the form right now, and he should take advantage of it. He could win the Giro this year if he can just stay on his bike. Take away those wrecks and subsequent injuries and I think he may well have won it last year. Mail means links. And links mean fun. This one is memepool and it's just wacky good time fun for the whole friggin family. Check this out. Mike writes in a says, "happy spring" about this next link. Sounds like a good time to me. Sort of like this guy. He likes to rock out with his cock out.
Anyone for a little subliminal flash. Wanna see a pic of Big Tex layin' down the pain? Click here.
I ain't a player I just crush a lot.
Last day for the Tour of the Gila. Exciting. Now we get to drive home. Home. That's a thought. Bed. Blankets. Shower. Oh, I've been good to long. Its been a good race. A very well run event. These guys know what they're doing around here. Even when total psycho in gray Dodge pickups with Colorado plates passes the motorcycle bound official by driving through someone's lawn like I saw yesterday. Seems like some people are just in a hurry. I've got to tell you, it was insane. This guy passed all the vehicles at the back of the Cat I's field, including me and Gerald in the Rona car. The officials see this guy is a bit erratic and take up the left lane to physically block him until it's safe to wave him through. Which they'll do, mind you, as soon as they can. It's their job, after all. They bring cars around the group all day long, and do it well. Now, this jackass, he's not content to wait. He's already came around everyone else who would like to get by, and shut the door rather brutally on a few of us. So, he swings it left, off the road, into the grass and fucking guns it. He's getting all sideways, tearing shit up and swings back onto the road in front off the official. Now he's right up on the group and there are approaching a rise in the road, what will be a feedzone for some of the other categories. Like the one's I'm supporting, for example. He starts tearing ass up the road passing the group, Gerald rolls down his window and point right. We pull over and he says, "This is to fucking crazy." Yep. This is fucking totally bananas. We decide to chill for awhile and let the road thin out a bit. We're less than a mile from the feed and we've got at least 10 or 15 minutes till anyone we're supporting shows up. We've got plenty of time. So we wait. Working out nicely. Saw Genevičve Jeanson come through six minutes up on the women's field again. Seems the girl is setting a trend. She likes to ride by herself for miles and miles and miles. It's pretty fucking amazing to see. I also really enjoyed seeing my man, Jake the Snake Rubelt absolutely pound himself into the God damned ground all week. Him and Justin are turned inside out. Check out my boys in this pick over on cyclingnews. You think they're puttin in some work? And, the name is Rubelt. Not Rubect. Although Rubect rhymes with respect, so he'll probably end up diggin it in the end. Here is more of the 'ol Snake. From cyclingnews, pic one and pic two. I'll be up in Flagstaff next weekend just in time to see everyone falling all over themselves to get next to that guy. He's the Gord Fraser of Flagstaff these days.
Free reign today and I abused it. There isn't much for me to do when it's the downtown criterium. The bikes work, and I'm going for a ride. I decided to go check out Pinos Altos and some of the road out past the feedzone from yesterdays loop. It's damn nice country up there. Cool clean air and forest as far as the eye can see. I think I liked it. Michele told me that yesterday, "even the downhills went up". Yep. I'm feeling it. You shoulda seen the climb just to get out the neighborhood I was staying. The house is down in the bottom of a canyone. It sucked ass. I was all the way across to the 25 and standing. Friggin standing. I couldn't believe it. It sucked. This is Silver City, so of course it was windy as a mother fucker out as well. I think the thing I enjoyed the most about climbing up into the pine trees is I didn't notice the wind nearly as much up there. Like, I didn't even feel it. Sometimes I could hear it roaring throught the treetops. But, that my friends, was A Ok with me. Hear good, feel bad. In one week the Giro d'Italia starts. I cannot wait for that one. Big time fun.
Ah, the inner loop. Good times. I'm pretty damn glad I've never ridden this part of the race either. I mean raced it. The route is pretty damn cool and I'll be riding some of it tomorrow during the crit as I won't have to do much else. Crit day is free day for the fat man. The ride starts with a snappy little climb up to Pinos Altos. I'm pretty sure that translates from the Spanish as "tall penis". That's what I tell everyone anyway. Michele told me about a dream she has this morning, and it was a bit on the nutty side. She says she was at some host housing at a race and when she woke up and went downstairs one of her teammates had turned her bicycle into a rototiller. And then she says, "I was like, dude! What are you doing! I've got to race today! Turn it back!" And so it goes. The opening climb to Pinos Altos blew apart the field in most categories. I think the Pro's and maybe Cat 1's stayed together. But the 3's were strung out for miles. I started passing people a good ten miles from the feed zone as I drove up and over the first climb. And I never saw the front of the field, just groups of two, three and five trying to survive. Oh, it's going to be a long day for some of these folks. A long day. A few miles from the feed, I noticed some poor bastard not more than ten feet off the pavement squatting behind a small tree. Yep. Bibs around knees doing the lords work out there in the bush. You gotta feel for a guy who has to shuffle off in the woods like that. That definitely was not fun. Sheeba, one of the girls I was feeding got a flat tire when she was a bit back and had to wait for a wheel. And wait. And wait. She started walking. Barefoot. She says she probably went a mile like that before a truck came up and offered a wheel. By this time she was so far back and so pissed off she just stuffed it. So, now I had help in the feeds. On the way to the second feed I saw Bensy off the back walking into the woods. Seems like it was a good day to say fuck it. You know it's bad when you have to lay your bike down and quickstep it out into the pine for a little emergency stop like that. I felt bad for him but mostly just wished I had a camera. We spent part of our evening walking the crit course. "Looking at cracks", Michele and Sheeba called it. It looks like one hell of a fun crit course to me. My man the Garden Gnome tells me he won it once as a II. I think that would be his kinda course, fast with a chappy ass fast as shit downhill corner into a tailwind. Yeah, you try and come around that little bastard on something like that. He likes that shit, I'll tell you that much. Well, Sheeba was out of it, my man Wolf lost some time but won the field sprint and Michele made the time cut by a minute and a half. All in all, a better day for the support staff than the riders.
Day two at the Gila in the books. My man Wolfe slipped from first to fifth after two guys got up the road, and I mean way up the road from the masters group. Wolfe had a man named Lindsay marked and figured he might two minutes to him on the finishing climb up the Mogollon Rim. Well, Lindsay got his two minutes, but the guys who got six and a half minutes up the road on 'em won the stage and took the lead. More hanging around in the feeds with the usual suspects. Had to have Gerald help me jump start some woman's car after she listened to the radio with the engine off for way to long. She done run it dry. Headlights wouldn't even glow, damn thing was so hammered. And in the Pro's, Arizona's pride and joy, Dru Miller took the lead with a blazing run up the final climb. Wolfe tells me Miller can put two minutes into anyone on a climb like that. And I believe him. After the day's fun, I washed up Wolfe's bike and went for a ride. Taking care of one bike is the way to go. None of this five, six, seven or eight bike bullshit. I'm down with one bike. I found out that if you take Lone Willow road out long enough, it turns to dirt. And if you take the dirt long enough, it gets pretty fun. I rode four different roads that all dead ended into some ranch or private land. Fuck it, I went for all of it. Good times. Tomorrow, more of the same for me. More of the same. Standing on the sidewalk downtown earlier, I ran into my buddy Nate. We were checking out the results posted on the window of the Gila Hike and Bike shop. (snake: 93rd) Cool little shop, by the way. I asked the guy inside if they sold out of anything yet, like tires, tubes, energy bars and that sort of shit. He said no, "we stock waaayy up". Then I asked him about cassettes with a really low gear. "Oh," he said, "we sure did sell a lot of those quick. And 56 tooth chainrings. We're all out of 56 tooth chainrings." Well, there you have it folks. The Tour of the Gila. Where you need super high and super low gears. And, oh yes indeedy, you will use them. Now, about Nate, he's a big old son of a bitch and could probably light me up in a sprint or boxing match. So, of course, he's having the time of his life out here in the hills. I think his line this morning when I pumped up his tires for him what, why do we do this jonny? It's going to hurt. A lot. Yes, Nate, is it going to hurt. You more than me, ho ho. I'm in a big ass truck. All I gotta do is stand still and hold bottles out in the air till someone snatches them away from me. I wouldn't trade places with Nate for a million dollars. Ok, ok, I'd trade him for 50 plus entry fee. We all know I'm a whore. My price is low and I aim to satisfy. And, how about Snake? Holy shit, him and Justin are about turned inside out last time I saw those two. Good lord. I guess riding yourself into the ground for Dru Miller on the Trek Regional All Star Gestapo is a hard days work. And I really, really like seeing Justin hurt. Really. Also while hanging out downtown this evening I saw a young, shirtless gentleman of the yokel local variety. He was yelling at everyone who passed him on the street, what's up, what are you looking at, and so forth. He wanted very much to get in a fight. With anyone apparently. I was thinking, you know what buddy, you're the man. The fucking man. You are so bad you should be in detention. You run this town. You can fucking have it. It's yours. Enjoy. I'll come back in a year and see what you've done with it. My guess would be nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.
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