Well in light of the fact that most of California is presently on fire, the general population was understandably worried about mixing fire with propulsion in any form. Laying low, the better half and I ended up at Black Socks abode for some grilling and filling. Eventually after feeding the neighbors animals and taking a walk to the top of the hill, we were gazing out over the sinking sun, when a gentleman approached. "Can I help you?" he asked forcefully. "Were just up here enjoying at view", we responded. "Yeah.. well youre standing in my driveway" he began. Then he sharply told us of his fear of forest fires.

How my right foot being six inches into the base of his driveway, or how two of the three of us standing holding glasses of wine looking out over the horizon with nary a sparkler between us had anything to do with that however, Im still not sure.

Ahh... the joys of experiencing someones false sense of entitlement.
Truthfully I was halfway expecting him to accuse us of stealing his air as well...

Anyhow, one of the other neighbors approached our group and we had a very pleasant chat about the history of the back roads up there, and what a truly lovely evening it turned out to be, which just about quelled my burning desire to let him know that his neighbor was a total dick.
I hope the unpleasant of the two had a wicked hangover the next morning.

Earlier in the day though, the aforementioned Black Socks and I got a very nice road ride on, when we ran into Vernor and Hillary, who jointly helped us decide to go survey the damage from an earlier wild fire.

I was slightly reminded of exploring the Oakland Hills after the fire storm of 1991. Everything before me had been laid waste to- The smell of charred earth filling every sense, and a bemused sense of wonder and pride for the men and women who are working tirelessly in an attempt to continually beat the fires into submission.

It should also be noted that despite my attempts at profound observation and so you the reader, wont think Ive gotten some highly literate ghost writer to pen todays post, that while on the ride, Black Socks and I also drank a ton of beer.
See? It is me.

Besides the whiff of burning manzanita, there was also a strong scent of love in the air.

We can only hope Louise said yes, though at 'press' time there was no indication either way.

But back to beer for a second, The Skipper and I have just about completed our offices newest feature- a trophy cabinet.

Id be a dirty liar if I told you that we didnt have every intention of leaving that for the next tenants, whoever that might be.

CFO sent an email chock full of bad words, wishing us a happy Independence Day, and as Ive said before, I attempt at every turn to keep the content here on The Bummer Life relatively family friendly, but I will rarely, if ever, censor whatever the fine folks who write to us have to say.
So that being said, send the kids out of the room, or skip over the following lines if your sensibilities are of a delicate nature;

"The dipshit appliance dude just completely botched installing a new oven at my parents house.....My brother, bro in law and I fixed his fuck up...Upon his leaving he exclaimed "enjoy your holiday" to which my nephew replied "enjoy your moustache"....it was fucking amazing.

So, to you and yours....enjoy your freedom....and enjoy your moustache!!!

CFO"

CFOs nephew is four. I think its safe to say that he is a chip off the old block, or blocks, as the case may be.

On Thursday, we got another package from The Pusher Man.

I know how this plays out. The first few tastes are free, and then once youre hooked, you find yourself doing all kinds of unthinkable things to get the fix.
No matter how many episodes of 'Intervention' I watch, I still cant seem to veer away from the inevitable.
Though they say that the first sign of addiction is denial. If I freely admit my addiction, am I then one step closer to... um.. whats the term?
I guess, nonaddiction?

Probably not.

Do you see The Oracle peeking out from back there in the corner? I guess it would be best to just wait and ask him.

I know I keep trying to regularly broach other topics and leave the one about pork behind, and with that being said, I have two final words for you.
Bacon tacos.

And lets let that... be the end of that.

A couple of weeks ago I drew a picture on a bike box that got shipped out amid a storm of other bikes, and included in the drawing I instructed whoever ultimately received said parcel to contact me for a free t-shirt. Eventually I got an email from Seth at On The Route bike shop in Chicago, but he said that some ner-do-well had actually discarded the box on his day off, so though he has no photographic proof, he did send a photo of his handsome self in front of his shop, and because I didnt really elaborate on any rules about having to save the piece, Im holding to my word and sending him his choice of shirts.

But Ill be damned if I can remember if he said he wanted one of our Ciclista Urbanos organic cotton shirts, or one of our limited edition unicorn shirts.

I dont know about you all, but I suspect just simply based on his appearance, that he would probably opt for the latter.

It should also be noted that the lovely Eva has loaned the fruit of her eye for this weeks header photo. If youd like to see what else shes up to, click here.

And now finally, as (sortof) promised many months ago, with thanks to DPow! its our pleasure to bring to you baseballs best moustaches.

Alright- enoughs enough. Im outta here.