Tag Archives | i’m a fucking idiot

Still Looking For a Cure

After three days off the bike due to soccer travel with B, weather, and “stuff,” I was finally able to get out for a ride on a dank fall morning. The ride started off bad, got worse, then got mildly tolerable. There’s no one to blame but myself, for as you all know very well, I. AM. AN. IDIOT.

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That Time I Bonked Due to Suck

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While Wifey has been out-of-town on .gov business this week I did everything a proper father/person should do, and that I do anyway (for the most part): Made all the meals, did laundry, got B to soccer practice, made sure his homework was done, mowed grass, did the shopping, did the dishes, took the trash out, ate properly, didn’t drink booze, smoke crack, shoot up, kill anyone or solicit prostitutes.

Given all that clean living I REALLY thought that I was up for a larger than usual (but not THAT large) multi-surface ride today. Sadly, my want to putz around taking photos, an unforeseen detour, a lack of on the bike nutrition, wind, deep sand, and higher than usual September temps turned me into a gelatinous heap of bonked suck praying for a passer-by to shoot me down like a gimp dog.

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Smell My Cob

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With the week pretty open and void of hours at the shop I headed out for another dirt road ride on the Boone today. This time I headed south of town with hopes of more dirt, less pavement, and a few more miles.

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Best Made Plans

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After working eleven hours at the shop on Wednesday and knowing that I had the next two days off, I had a plan for my Thursday: sleep in (8:45 AM) and get thirty to forty miles of fast dirt road riding in on the Boone before cutting grass, trimming some hedges, going for groceries, doing laundry and getting B off to his last night of soccer camp, after which he would leave to spend the night with some friends and teammates while I enjoyed some white trash Mexican food and a cocktail or three while watching pre-season footy.

Here is how that worked out…

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Working & A Plus Sized Bike

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Thursday was a day off the bike and a day in the bike shop to earn some cash money. The shop was fairly busy and I found myself building up another Weehoo (Weee Hoooo!!). Thankfully I only f’ed up a few things along the way–way better than the last Weehoo build which took me forever due to a parts issue. The rest of my work day was spent getting my balls busted by Napper and Terry, unpacking and checking in inventory, and pimping bikes to folks; including a couple of Mennonite kids that I initially helped out a couple of weeks back.

The last time these two kids were in, they were with their mom looking and test riding. This time the three of them returned with dad in tow, and after his approval they left the happy owners of two new bikes. The boy in particular was stoked with his X-Caliber. Of course I wept a little bit when he wanted a kickstand installed. I waited until they left before I buried my tear filled eyes and chubby cheeks in my dirty palms.

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A Love Affair

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I may or may not have mentioned this before, but in the world of beer (in which I am a well steeped lover), Dogfish Head Indian Brown Ale just MIGHT be the beer that has retained most of my affection over the years. I could seriously make love to this beer… it has everything I could ever want in a beer and more. I don’t drink it all the time, but GODDAMN, when I do I sort of get all tingly in the nipple and crotchial regions.

That’s it, carry on, a more thorough blog post about nothing is forthcoming.

Later.

Photo: Soiled Chamois file photo from last weekend.

Winter, The Buxom Hug

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Anyone who has ever come within three feet of me or this blog knows that I hate winter. I’m not happy about it, but there’s nothing I can do about it, so I have learned to embrace it. However, that embrace is sort of like when you’re thirteen and one of your grandmother’s buxom friends decides that she wants, nay, NEEDS  a hug upon meeting you. You’re not happy about it, but at some point during the embrace your realize that despite the woman’s advanced years, caked on makeup, wrinkles, eye watering perfume and ongoing fight with gravity, her extremely large, round boobs ARE indeed pressing into your chest. Sadly, no matter how hard your try, you end up using that bit later whilst in private*. You’re not happy about it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Riding in the winter is my touchy/feely big boob hug.

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We are all Individuals!

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We are all individuals! But are we allowed to be?

Lately I have been thinking a lot about individuality and its place within cycling and bike racing. It’s a strange beast, especially for someone like myself, who more often than not, feels like he just doesn’t belong to any real part of cycling culture. That’s OK, I mean I’m talking about cycling, if one wants to “fit in,” there are plenty of other hobbies and lifestyles to choose from in modern-day society.

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