And then there was Sunday

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Friday was one hell of a day. I had flatted the front tire on my cross bike about week prior while pedaling my happy ass back from the jobby job. Since I’ve got a garage full of bikes, I left her at home and ran through a couple of worthy alternates for some back and forth to work action. Which, coincidentally, is the sum total of my riding these days.

I had a bit of time Friday morning and thought to myself, I’ll take the Voodoo today, thank you very much. No big deal, right? Put in a tube, pump it up and roll.

Yeah right. I’m “just riding along” and I pinch flat the front tire. No big deal, right? It’s a gloriously nice morning in northern Arizona. The sun is shining, the birds are singing.

I lean her against a railing and set about the task at hand. I’ve got one of the general repair type kits we sometimes throw together for our commuting bag – a couple of tubes (road and mtn sizes), a pump, tire levers, chain tool, bits of old chain, folding allen key set, 15m box wrench (for those pesky bolt on rear wheels) and whatever else I haven’t bothered to take out of the bag and throw away.

New tube, couple of dozen strokes from good old Mt. Zefal and I’m ready to roll. Bag on back, helmet on head, glasses and gloves in appropriate places.

I make it all of ten feet and I flat again.

Now I have already realized from my last turn through the varied detritus I call a repair kit that I no longer have an operational patch kit. And I only had the one road tube.

Son of a bitch.

I’ve no way to fix this, the third flat I’ve been presented with in a half an hour. What to do? I hoofed it home, had another cup of coffee and rode a different bike to work.

I guess that Voodoo just really wanted to stay at home this week.

I first caught that image and link over at thepiton.com. And I just had to read more. Check it: Inconvenient Truths: Get Ready to Rethink What It Means to Be Green

I guess I can keep rolling that Cadillac with out any guilt then, right?

Never mind cliff shot, we’re talking g-shot here people.

Three months ago, Caroline Cushworth sat her partner Christopher down and asked him a simple question.

If, she said, I could be guaranteed an orgasm every time we had sex, what would be your reaction?

Not that surprisingly, her partner Christopher, 27, a plasterer, replied that he’d be delighted.

‘So I told him I wanted to have a brand-new treatment which would enable me to do just that – and also make my orgasms much more intense than normal,’ says Caroline.

‘And so a fortnight ago, Caroline became the first British woman to have the ‘G-shot’, also known as the ‘orgasm jab’ – an £800 non-surgical treatment that enhances a woman’s sexual experience by boosting the G-spot, the ultra-sensitive area of tissue that can hold the key to happy love-making.

Rather like lip-plumping jabs, the treatment involves injecting collagen straight into the G-spot.
Check it: dailymail.co.uk

And then you have sites like showmeyourpanties.blogspot.com.

Nothing additional need be said by me regarding that.

Yo, sheeptown is on and poppin’.

It’s all in the pic, baby. It’s all in the pic. Read all about what you’re missing here: farca.wordpress.com/…sheeptown-drags-five-mile-long-oh-the-doo-dah-day

Finally, an bicycle event I could actually be competitive at: Drinking heavily and pulling burning logs down the street. Its like I was born to do that.

This one from today’s NY Times.

Both Lances were in town last week.

The first, Lance Armstrong the bicycle champion and anticancer campaigner, was making television appearances to promote a new Web venture, livestrong.com, devoted to healthy living.

…But there was also plenty of publicity unauthorized by Mr. Armstrong, including three days of coverage in The New York Post, a string of articles on Us Magazine’s Web site and an article in Life & Style entitled “How Lance Stole Kate From Owen,” all chronicling Mr. Armstrong’s relationship with the actress and tabloid darling Kate Hudson.

This is the second Lance, the one people.com called a “notorious Texas playboy.”

…Advocates of cancer research say Mr. Armstrong’s impact since retiring from cycling in 2005 has been nothing short of remarkable: 70 million yellow Livestrong bracelets have been sold to raise money for cancer causes. He has testified before Congress and has inspired legions with his own story of overcoming testicular cancer.

But increasingly, it is not what he is becoming known for. Ask Larry Wallach what is the first thing that pops to mind when he hears Mr. Armstrong’s name, and Mr. Wallach, a salesman at Sid’s Bikes on West 19th Street in Manhattan, replies, “How he spent Father’s Day with his new girlfriend.”

On one hand you have Lance Armstrong the Tour Champion. And on the other you have Lance Armstrong the playboy. To the victor go the spoils, right? He was certainly the victor. Seven times over.

How long till one of his former team mates (or someone from the support staff) from the US Postal days drops a dime on him? It’s been calm now for a while, and you just know it’s coming.

The truth wants to come out. And some day it will.

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