Jeff Cup & School Yard Heroes

Jeff Cup Quick Summary
-It was cold as hell. Sleet, rain, and wind. Sweet.
-Navy fielded at least ten guys in my field
-VT did about the same
-I was all by my lonesome and thus took it upon myself to do stupid/pointless things (i.e. solo break on the first lap, getting involved in breaks, chasing down other breaks, punching cow and breaking its nose)
-Navy won (duh)
-Mellow Mushroom in Charlottesville is the most northern MM on the east coast. Remember this and thank me later

School Yard Hero
A school yard hero is someone who is revered for something they do even though it doesn't really mean anything in the grand scheme of things. If you're known as the local hoss at Hains Point sprint nights or the workhorse of the peleton constantly chasing and initiating breaks you're probably a SYH. As an SYH, you'd probably enjoy inflicting pain on those around you (and usually yourself in the process). You can be a total badass, a finesse rider, or simply just a crazy person on a bike and there will always be people to eat that stuff up. It's always fun to get recognition for doing something that you like, even if it isn't in the form of a paycheck. But it's important to keep in mind that, just like winning a game of kickball at recess, bike racing is just a fantasy. Anyone (with enough money and guts) can get into racing a bike and, of those people, a select few are gifted athletes. While some take this gift and turn it into a profession, a majority simply do it because they enjoy the sport. Being a school yard hero isn't about the glory of being a first-class cyclist. It's about having heart and enjoying the simplicity of riding bikes as a hobby.

School Yard Shithead
This Guy. It's simple folks. He's ok at riding bikes. Unfortunately this is overshadowed by the fact that he's a complete fucking nut. Yesterday at Jeff Cup, he was seen wearing his collegiate national champ's jersey. If I'm not mistaken, he was banned from racing for getting in a fight on the last day of the 2007 Tour of Virginia. Oh, he got his bike spiked that day too. Personally, I (unlike Jame Carney) do not feel the need to beat up a retarded cyclist or even call him out for being a psycho. But it does beg the question: Why the hell is he always wearing that damn jersey? Why was he wearing at a race that he wasn't even competing in? Does he understand that it's a COLLEGIATE jersey, which is the equivalent of wearing a giant gold star sticker on the playground (and then getting beaten up for wearing a gold star on said playground)? Is he consciously aware of the fact that he's wearing it?
My theory is that he's still shell-shocked from his little altercation at ToV and will forever see himself as the collegiate D1 national champion. If that's the case, I move that we get him a stars-and-stripes straight jacket and keep him away from bicycles forever...unless it's a recumbent. I would kill to see that. With side-view mirrors and everything.

The Word According to Old Balls [an excerpt from the Chronicles of Dusty Old Balls]:
"If a cow is lying down in a field, it is going to rain. If many cows are lying down in a field, it will be pretty sever rain. If you are surround my lying cows and are lying down yourself, you are probably a cow."

Climber-ific and Wafflehouse

We don't get much climbing in DC. There's probably one or two "hills" that you could run intervals on, but that's about it. So when the team came down to Harrisonburg for an 11mile uphill time trial up Reddish Knob, there's sure to be plenty of suffering. I suck at climbing, but fortunately I'm a glutton for pain (which actually pairs well with my 11-21 cassette). I finished the race in ok form, but as always, felt there was plenty of room to improve. Of our teams notable finishes, Boo Berry took second in the A's and Old Balls took third in the C's. Not being able to descend is another downside to not having anywhere to climb in DC (pun kind of intended). I'm not going to lie. I descend like a monster, the most pussy-ass monster who's scared of the dark and wets himself when he catches his reflection in the mirror. I'm simply not comfortable with jamming out downhill. Going around an unfamiliar corner at 30-something mph with rough roads and gravelly spots is a bit unnerving, especially when coupled with the smell of my smoldering-yet-useless brakes. Oh, and it was cold as balls coming down that mountain too. My goosebumps had goosebumps (though they'd prefer to call them duck pimples. I think there's unresolved tension there between geese and ducks).

I'm still working on a solution to my verticular problems. I'd like to move to a mountain somewhere, but I'd have to become a mountain man. The problem with doing this is that I don't look good in a buckskin outfit, nor will 'coonskin cap fit over my helmet. And as we've all seen, I can't grow a bushy beard or any reasonable facial hair at all. I'd have to get some hair transplant for my face or get bitten by a werewolf. [Note to self: You can't afford an extensive hair transplant for your face. Find werewolf asap.]


In Other New: Wafflehouse
The first time I've ever been to one of these fine dining establishments, it was the morning of Jeff Cup. It was an awesome experience. I pigged out on some delicious breakfast food and sweet tea. This time, the service just wasn't up to par. Not only did they almost forget to bring me half my food, but one of the waitresses had a disgusting case of ringworm covering a quarter of her face. Now I'm not really one for personal hygiene and I used to wrestle so I know what ringworm is like, but I draw the line at people who are paid to bring me my food. that shit was fucking gross.

Cyclist seeking Bicycle

Fun, outgoing, athletic, and unattractive male cyclist seeks long-term polygamous relationship with open-minded racing-oriented road bicycle.

I enjoy long rides in the surrounding DC Metro area and abroad, sprints at Hains Point, and both road races and criteriums. Sometimes when the mood strikes, I like to get down and dirty by venturing off-road through gravel, dirt, and sand. While that might make some bicycles squeamish, I promise to provide tender love and care, including lubing all drivetrain parts and periodically polishing bicycle with Pedro's Bike Lust. Cables will be meticulously tensioned and lubed. Brake pads will be aligned properly. Bearings will be properly loaded and wheels will be trued according to this cyclist's rigorous standards.

Bicycle must not fail in the event of an accident and must provide reliable performance throughout any conditions; rain or shine. It must not get jealous if I choose to ride other bikes and promise not to laugh at me when attempting to climb uphill or when outpaced by other cyclists.

I am available for test rides throughout the week, but would prefer a longer ride on the weekends to really get to know the bicycle. It does not matter if bicycle was in previous relationship as long as it wasn't a horribly abusive one or ever involved a triathlete. I am open to any frame material but will not tolerate clip-on aerobars, rust, 650cc wheels, or Italian gruppos.

Only serious inquiry need apply. If you think you are the one, please contact me asap at Love2LubeYourChain@gmail.com or call (202) IDT-CVNT.

Let's not wait until the bell lap to begin our relationship!

Late Night Write: New Shimano and Easter

Velonews recently published an article on the new Dura-Ace group. Prototypes of a 7900-series DA group have been showing up on pro bikes (primarily Gerolsteiner and Rabobank bikes). I always get excited about new groups. Word around the rumor mill says this group is going to be the usual classy Shimano affair with no carbon insight. The current DA group is no slouch, but its been around for something like four years. I can't wait to get my hands on the new stuff. [*giggles like an idiot*] The competition between component manufacturers reminds me of the heated battles of video game platforms. Sram/Microsoft would be the new entrant. It started out with Force and Rival, the equivalent of Xbox with good games like Halo 1 and 2. The Xbox was a new platform facing veteran soldiers of the video game world, but they did their homework and was an absolute success. Xbox360/Sram Red came out later and kicked even more ass (despite being somewhat of an overkill).

Campy/Sony have been extremely successful in the past and they both have storied histories founded on innovation and cutting edge technology. Unfortunately, no one gives a crap because anything labeled "Campy Ultra-Torque" or "PS3" directly translates to "retarded expensive". I'm sorry but my palate must not be refined enough to enjoy seeing individual hairs move on an anime character that I use to save the universal for the 13th time. Nor am I willing to shell out the dough to ride a group that is intrinsically expensive. Furthermore, the whole "Italian soul" argument makes absolutely zero practical sense. Again, my daft palate fails me. I just don't see how something that pulls a cable that moves a chain or brake pad can have a "soul".

Don't get me wrong. Riding a bike is a powerful experience, but it isn't because you have special components that need special parts and special attention from not-so-special surly bike mechanics. It's because it's a simple, organic activity that involves speed, daring, and mental strength. Shimano/Nintendo has always been the go-to for reliability and fun. Whether it was shooting ducks with the pistol from Tron or riding a piece of crap bike to Krispy Kreme in the middle of the night, S/N has been there. Sure there have been disappointments. Gamecube was a POS and I really despise Shimano Coasting "Technology" and the new Tiagra/Sora stuff. But the Wii is awesome. Whether or not you're sober, into video games, or enjoy the company of mustached, Italian plumbers, everyone can have fun with the Wii. I guess that's why I'm excited for the new DA (and resultant trickle down of technology to Shimano's other groups). It will should be efficient, reliable and most importantly not take away from simply having fun. (As an added bonus it won't turn its owners into pricks when I run out of campy-specific derailleur cables and ferrules that are required for repairs)


In other news:
Easter has come and passed. I ate a lot of jelly beans, but thats about as faux-festive as I got. But I must admit, next year I wouldn't mind dressing up like a bunny rabbit and binge drinking with a basket full of forties decorated like easter eggs. What? You say that isn't an Easter tradition? Do you really think that'll stop me?


Also:
What the hell is this?


Endnote:
I know the whole this-or-that brand groupset has been debated before. If you were thinking this, you should probably unclench your buttcheeks. It tends to lead to really bad saddle sores.

Don't Call Me "Bro"

I am not a "bro". I never will be. Do not insult me by call me this. I will kill you. I guess you'd like to know why I'm tell you this. Some 'bro' came into the shop today. He need a bolt for his Crank Brothers cleat and I helped him out as I would with any other customer. I installed the hardware for him and didn't charge him for anything. As a sign of his gratitude, he said "Thanks bro" and hopped his retarded ass out the shop. It's a good thing he did because I nearly choked him out with his own hemp necklace.


In Other News:
Jennifer "Bootilicious" Lopez wants to do a triathlon, which adds her to the list of people I really really don't give a shit about. She's doing it so that her ugly babies will "be proud of her". Yes, that is exactly what her babies want. They don't want milk, food, or nurturing. In this day and age, all these babies really need is for Mamasita Lopez to run around pretending to be 'fit' and focus on something other than being a mother. It's great that she's taken out an insurance plan on her ass, but if she's already putting her fitness ahead her children she's gonna need to shell out a couple more bones for her kid's therapist pretty soon.

Quickly: Uh Oh

I might have too much bike stuff...
I just used a carbon fiber seatpost to scratch my back....

All In a Days Ride: Did You See The Moonwalking Bear?

I rode a bike today, but accidentally did it for three and a half hours. Now I'm gonna drink some beer to make up for my over-excercising. Before I make an attempt to get out of this chair, here's why I had a good ride.

There were two good things about todays ride. It was 51-degrees when I left the house and they (the weather-media devils) were calling for rain. Admittedly, I didn't know it was going to rain, but the fact that it was just the tiniest bit chilly today meant that the bike paths and roads would be triathlon-free. You see, for their sport they can use a treadmill, spinning machine, or a chlorine-filled pee tank known as a 'pool'. Fortunately for everyone, all those things can be found under a roof and behind walls, through which I can't hear the muffled murmurs of ridiculous theories about aerodynamics (Dude, eat more cheese. It'll make your rolls of fat lumpier and lumps are like dimples and dimples are what my Zipps have. Dude Zipps are fast) and why Cervelo is the best (because everyone has them. DUH).

The downside was that I rode out during rush hour. DC traffic is constantly in rush hour. It doesn't matter what hour it is because it is always rushed because people have places to be and they needed to be there five minutes before they left the house. It gets a little bit busier during normal commuter times (i.e. 7-9am and 5-7pm) in what I'd like to call Slightly More Rushed Hour. Drivers were honking their horns left and right at us, despite the fact Dr. Hot Pants and I were in our own bike lane. Granted a few of those honks might have been because of our new team kits, which are simply fucking awesome, but I'm sure a majority of them were of malicious intent. I don't get why people get their panties all in a bunch about a few 'kids' riding their bikes. But then again, there are a lot of times I question why people are so serious about the little things. I guess its better than the alternative: not being seen at all by cars.

Quickly: It's Electric

Repeat after me:
I WILL NEVER RECHARGE MY BICYCLE.

Shit like this just makes me angry. If you want smooth crisp shifting, stop working on your own bikes and get Gore Cables. Running cables through internally routed is difficult enough, but add electricity and I'll quit my job at the shop. Its like someone went through the UCI rulebook, while smoking a joint, and decided on creating something that no cared about just to piss off the cycling world. Next will be the return of the 1-inch threaded fork, except this time the fork will be permanently welded to the frame. It'll the stiffest system around as well as the most aerodynamic since the wheel will always be pointed directly into the wind. Innovation for innovation's sake is usually a sign that these captains of industry are drunk behind the wheel. Although, electronic shifting means that we'll no longer have to deal with idiots that bike across the country and dunk their stupid bikes into the ocean. They'll either all have died from resultant electrical shock or be too poor from dunking multiple bikes that they'll simply quit biking altogether (cutting the total number of triathlons in half).

Spring is Here, Put Your Shirt Back On

It was nice yesterday (sunny 60-degree weather and a slight breeze) but today was downright cold with temps in the 50s and a 20-30mph winds. Despite the varying weather conditions, there were still people out today being 'fit' and exercising essentially in their bathing suits. People love to hang it out there so that others can see them exercising. Just because you're wearing warm weather clothes doesn't mean it's going to get any warmer. That's just simply not the way the weather works. A majority of cyclists have this whole weather thing down pat. Sure, it's expensive to have leg warmers, knee warmers, two pairs of arm warmers, two pairs of shoe covers, and three pairs of gloves (not to mention vests, jackets, and caps), but its allows a cyclist to fine tune his level of comfort for each particular day. It seems like your average bike trail fitness enthusiast has only three outfits: 1) Swishy track suit 2) Shorts and t-shirt 3) Just shorts (and sometimes a sports bra) You'll see the swishy suit being worn when the weather drops below 40 or if the person wearing it is over 45 years old. Shorts and t-shirt are the standard go-to for all weather with temps between 40 and 59.5. As soon as the mercury rises the slightest hair over 59.5, shirts go missing in quiet suburbs all over the DC area. I'm not quite sure where they go. Perhaps there some fitness guru has told them its more aero to be shirtless. Or Maxim, Cosmopolitan, GQ et al. have all collaboratively decided that wearing clothes while exercising is "out" and that being a fitness poser and public exposing yourself is "in". It's still too early to tan and (this is especially important for triathletes) race numbers and temp tat's with your coach's astrological sign and sexual orientation don't show up as well if you've been spending your time on the surface of the sun.

I'm currently working on a plan to reclaim sanity on the bike path. It involves me riding slowly behind anyone dressed like a moron and heckling them into submission. A few lines I've tested are: "Sweet pectorals, man," "Wow. You take really good care of you body," and "Wanna spot me some time, brah? I need to work on my glutes". Hopefully all will go according to plan. Sanity will once again be restored to the DC area, if I don't get knocked out by a super-intense fitness enthusiast who's insane body heat is enough to keep him warm in a 30-degree windchill. Wish me luck.

All In A Day's Racing: Nothing Too Exciting

Woke up at 8am this morning and headed out to UMD for their President's Crit. I finished and there wasn't a crash in sight. Sweet. I usually can't turn my brain off after a race and find myself constantly analyzing and reassessing the race. I'll spare you the details because honestly, who really cares? Let's just say that I rode a conservative race and could have done better. So now I'm sitting here, mentally amped up to ride bikes some more, and have zero in the tank to physically ride one. Also, I fucking forgot my camera. Total bummer.

Hopkins road race tomorrow is canceled (for reasons I don't care enough about to investigate). I was halfway looking forward to the race since it was touting over 1000ft of climbing per lap. I suck at road racing so that meant I would have spent my time enjoying the nice weather (and probably a sandwich) off the back of the pack. I really wanted that sandwich. Nothing tastes better than eating food after a race... unless it's during one. So the goal for tonight is to stay sober enough to wake up and ride a bike somewhere and hopefully in the dirt. Oh and fuck wearing green for a college-y pseudo St. Patrick's Day. If you really want to celebrate the holiday, you do it on the right day, even if it is on a Monday.

In other news, I bashed my shin up the other day riding Raggedy Andy's bmx bike. I'm a pathetic bmx'er and when paired with my trademark inattentiveness, I typically end up losing blood. I can't wait to get my own bmx bike (after yet another road bike and a 'cross bike). Thank God I work at a bike shop.

All In a Day's Ride: Springtime, Sprint-time

Ran out to Hains Pt to cruise around yesterday. Since the weather has been pretty nice recently, I saw a few familiar faces out. From the IM crew Ramone, Super Dave, and Big Red were out and from NCVC the infamous Punk Kid was out. There were other faces I recognized but couldn't put names to. After a few laps, everyone started getting organized.... for SPRINTS! Sprinting at Hains Pt means that the weather has finally turned in favor of the cyclist. It also means that I have begun my typical ride routine. Ride aimlessly. Get lost or meet up with riders better than me. Bonk. Struggle to get home. Eat and drink beer. Sleep a lot.

Yesterday was pretty close to the typical model.
Let's play a quick game of mistake or awesome:

1. Sprinting in the nice weather

2. Sprinting against Super Dave. [Note: the term "against" is obviously used very loosely. A more appropriate term would be "look stupid as Dave sprinted by me at Mach 5]

3. Making fun of a random goober wearing a complete Specialized S-Works kit and World Champ Helmet on his Specialized E5 Allez

4. Getting home in one piece (i.e. sans bonk) for a change

5. Shaving legs in shower after a hard ride and cramping up

6. Having a beer and a huge dinner before passing out for 14 hours


Answers: 1) Awesome, 2) Big mistake, 3) Awesome and hilarious, 4) Awesome, 5) Mistake, 6) SO AWESOME

All in a Weekend's Racing: Phoenixville and Philly

Phirst off: Don't be phooled. "Manicotti" is Italian for "Taquito with a lot of cheese". You might have already known this, but it needed to be said.


Saturday
The skies opened up and unleashed a ferocious downpour in Phoenixville. It was supposed to be an 'epic' road race with a climb of 650 vertical feet per lap, but that plan was quickly scrubbed since the descent was full of relatively dangerous switchbacks. It was probably a good thing since I have a tendency to crash a lot. As an alternative, the race officials shut down the streets of downtown Phoenixville and held a crit in the pouring rain. And by 'downtown' I mean 'boring as shit place'. It is my firm belief (and obvious prejudice against boring places) that labeling something 'downtown' should be reserved only for areas where people actually want to go, not dirty suburbs of an even dirtier city (Philadelphia).

It was pretty damn miserable. Each race was inevitably strung out due to the rain and resultant cautious cornering. I was fortunate to have a late enough start time for the skies to clear, but the course was still soaked. I made it about 5 laps until I flatted and my lungs caught fire. Saturday was a pretty big waste of time, but at least I didn't crash or have to race earlier like Capt. Powerlegs or Southern Comfort. At least there was an Irish pub nearby where we chowed down (and drank beer) and debated about who the cute waitress wanted the most. It was definitely me.


Sunday
In keeping with the shitty weather theme, the temperature dropped about 25-degrees overnight and the winds picked up to appx 25-30mph. It made for great team time trial weather down by the Schuylkill river. Old Balls and I formed a two-man Men's B team (most teams ran a four man group). We finished 11th out of 19 and caught our minute-man, which was our goal for that particular race. Other goals I had (secretly) made were to play chicken/bike joust with oncoming TTT teams and to smile alot. Instead, I ended up drooling a lot and looking foolish riding a round-tubed aluminum road bike with box-section rims. After the race (and after I wiped the snot and drool off my face), I sat in a car trying to regain the feeling in my toes, ate a bagel, and tried to rest up for the circuit race coming up in 3.5hrs. Guess what happened in that race? If you guessed that I made it out of the race completely unscathed, you'd be wrong. I'm going to kill the next person who crashes in front of me. This is getting ridiculous. I was feeling fine sitting in the front half of the pack, was cornering well and just plain enjoying myself. Some jerk had to get all fucking sketchy on a slightly curved downhill and ate shit. The crash took out about 15 riders instantly. Since I was about five bike lengths behind the crash, I was able to avoid most of the carnage and instead find a nice pile of mulch on the side of the road to veer into. As I was bailing out into the pillowy soft dirt and twigs, the pack was steadily creeping away. It probably took me a full minute to put my chain back on and get riding again. I tried to catch back up, but the headwind and "climbs"/small hills made it pretty much impossible, especially for someone with as high a tolerance for alcohol as myself. I ended up riding the rest of the race with a few stragglers. I fucking hate crashes.


In conclusion
Philly was miserable. It poured Saturday. It was freezing cold and windy on Sunday. I did my first time trial. I crashed into some mulch. I'm getting better at not hurting myself. Pennsylvania blows. So does the ECCC.


Endnotes (aka stuff that didn't fit anywhere)

-Race site parking:
Southern Comfort is known for being the craftiest race day parker on the team. Years of racing experience have taught him how to find the best (and usually illegal) parking spots at a race site. While we didn't break any laws this time, our parking spot was seriously super gravy. Somehow the racers who setup before us created this invisible barrier between themselves and the actually road block separating themselves from the race course. Idiots.

-Chuck Liddell
There was some psycho killer in the Men's 3/4 race. He looked like Chuck Liddell with his stupid mohawk. If I hadn't left my hobo costume at home, I would have fought him.

-Daylights savings
Screw this 'spring forward' crap. I woke up on Sunday at 6am (or what would have been 5am before the change). I was so tired after the day's two races that as I was trying to cool down by spinning on the rollers I completely fell off and spilled the Red Bull that I had been holding as I got on.

-ECCC is a bunch of jerks:
Middlebury can suck it, especially that sketchy fat kid on the Bianchi who more than likely was the cause of the crash. Also the hosts of the race UPenn, Drexel, Temple, and Villanova can all suck it too. How is a crit safer than a road race? Oh right, because when you do a huge crit in the wet, everyone gets strung out in the corners and you end up pulling 60-percent of the riders out per race. And who's bright idea was it to not have specific start times for a the TTT? When I find out, I'm going to pour a bucket of ice water on them and lock them in a freezer for making everyone restlessly in the cold at the start line. The fact that the ECCC doesn't provide their regular conference TT's with individual start times should have no fucking bearing at a dual conference. The stakes are higher. There are more people, which inevitably lowers the ratio of ECCC morons to people who understand the meaning of efficiency and organization.

-Why I TTT'd
For shits. What else? Its just riding a bike after all and it was pretty much a guaranteed finish for me, one that I badly needed for my own sanity.

-Alliteration: Phlats, Phreezing
Alliteration is lame. Phoenixville Fury? Philly Phyler? How about Whack-ass Weekend? or just plain FUCK YOU ECCC?

-Stricter bike handling requirements
USCF should require all racers to be able to ride on the rollers for at least 1 hour before letting them anywhere near me. It's kind of a moot point to be griping about how shitty riders are in Men's B or any other Cat 4 race, but the sport could definitely benefit from a few preventative measures. That way less people crash and I won't have to carry around bludgeoning instruments to kill the people who have caused me to crash. Also, I feel that I'd be a much faster bike racer if I didn't have that 12lb lead pipe sticking out of my back pocket for 30 miles.

Hairy...and Stupid!

There are some lines that you know are the preface to some pretty horrible things. "Pull my finger" is never a good one. "I wrecked in a Cat 4 race" isn't an unusual saying by any means, but still sucks to hear. Also, "I'm training for my first triathlon" usually ends with me choking someone. But everything pales in comparison when Idiot Cyvant says "I think I'm going to grow facial hair."

This might have something to do with the rising popularity of Team Slipstream. While other (stupid) teams, like Navy and Haymarket, have fully embraced Slipstream's "ugly but cool" argyle mentality, they simply end up looking like chatch-bags who have further pushed the envelope on their own retarded chatch-dom. What's cool for one team, is definitely not cool for every other idiot to imitate. It is for this reason that the hipster-fixie marriage will end in an abrupt divorce (and if it doesn't, the presiding authority in all such matters, Judge I. Cyvant F.U. will choke them all out of their tight-jean-wearing existence). While argyle is in/out, I feel inspired by Zabriskie and Cozza's facial hair (not to mention Big Red's brief but glorious mustache display). This isn't the same as using argyle on a cycling jersey. Argyle is a specific pattern. Changing the color still makes it argyle, whereas facial hair is an overarching theme with various means of execution (i.e. mutton chops, chin strap, soul patch, handlebar mustache, etc). Unfortunately, being inspired isn't all that's needed to grow wonderful facial hair; being anything but Asian helps too.

Do you know why the sage old kung-fu master with a snow-white beard is so respected? It's not because he can kill you with a single chopstick whilst eating soup with the other. No, it is because he has already been subjected to a lifetime of ridicule due to patchwork facial hair that makes any other pain (even via kung fu) seem like a mere child's play. Be wary of any Asian with facial hair, if years of social awkwardness haven't already killed him, getting in a sissy fist fight won't even faze him. I want that. I want the respect. I want the martial arts. I want the hairy face. So if you happen upon a surly Asian mechanic or Cat 4 crash spectacle, check for the faux-man-chu. It'll look like sixteen ants formed a disjointed circle around my mouth.

My Spring Break So Far....

You know you've hit a new low when you're looking at roadbikereview.com to see which is the best-rated bar tape. Either that or you're very drunk. I, (un)fortunately, am both.

This, folks, is my spring break. At least I've been making money and building some sweet bikes.... Ok, even lower low. dammit.

Quickie: Spring Break Hotness

Contrary to what the title says, I'm stuck in the D.C. area for spring break, which is far from being awesome. It's not all that bad, but I tend to get bored pretty quickly. Fortunately, my bike needed a shower. More scandalous pictures here.

Slow Day at Work.

so dig it. It's slow as hell at work.... so I'm blogging.

I should probably be icing my hands or sleeping since I pulled an all-nighter to write a business paper on Israeli nuts, almonds to be precise.

oh fuck, that's right! There IS stuff I can do!
Gonna go build a Gunnar. PEACE!