"Visits are like a vacation without forgetting your toothbrush."
George makes words pretty like a florist does with bouquets;
"hey fellow,
A week or so ago a pal of mine who will be departing the great state of CO this weekend stopped by for a couple of days to sample some of the shred trails in the area.
So we went out and got balls deep into a creek, busted out some epic climbs (the type of climb that you figure that the guy who made it must have had an epic relationship going and then got dumped for another loser and then he took it out on the future riders of the trail. because this particular trail starts out real nice and mellow middle ring pace for 45 minutes or so, then it just starts beating you continuously with switchback after switchback till you're broken, but its just like you want it because you keep coming back to it for the same beatdown.)
we drifted some turns, skated a backyard pool and got the cross bikes real loose on some snow, mud and puddles, saw some bear tracks and ate some killer mexican food. I can't ramble on much longer..
Did you hear about the gay midget?
He came out of the cupboard.
well wish me luck next week in the town series hill climb, hopefully lance is worked from the Giro."
That's how George rolls.
This next shot is an example of how Scout Master Aaron rolls;
He claims that he just came across this note, but I suspect that he was probably the one who wrote it.
I hope that you all enjoyed Saturday's 'one for the weekend'. I watched that and was in tears by the end. Well, that video originally came from a site full of photos of the event that El Corpo forwarded on to me that can be found here.
I wanna do it so badly, but I cant so much as brush my teeth without spraining my wrist these days, so I imagine if anything, I'll only end up as a spectator.
In totally other news, last week I saw a photo of a t-shirt somewhere that said 'who pissed my pants?'
I thought that was a fairly appropriate query given my own previously mentioned dilemma, but upon doing a quick web search to find said t-shirt, I came across this weeks winner of the 'Holy Hell, WTF? Award'.
Sit down and take a deep breath. Here you go.
It makes all my kinks seem alot less disturbing to me...
I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but here's an email from Mr. Blacksocks that simply said "cars are coffins. For real."
No doubt. Every time I'm in an airport and I walk up the stairs past a group of people standing on the escalator, or a bunch of fatties on the people mover, I cringe.
We as human beings are designed to move. To run and stretch, and kneel... Yet as a society, seem to do everything in our power to avoid it.
Lazy slobs, nearly the lot of us, and the more and more I look around, the more and more we look like parodies of ourselves..
Or moreover, nearly any one of the rotund characters on The Simpsons;
In news of the bike world, Der Soil Saloon kicked the summer off right with a 'No Big Whoop' rally and a flaming pentagram;
They're obviously trained professionals.
Speaking of which, Joe forwarded on this next bit of goodness.
Show me someone who can't relate with Awkward Family Photos, and I will show you a damn liar.
Is more bike news what you now crave? Alright, then how about an email from David, down yonder in Florida?;
"Yo!
Gainesville is keeping it real this summer. Keep an eye out for posters. We're slaughtering the bummer life monthly."
You know you can trust a paper called The Independent Florida Alligator.
And even more bike news? Alright.. Well the good people at Handsome Cycles did me the ultimate solid a few weeks ago and just cause they are decent, and good hearted individuals, hooked a brotha up with my own Handsome frame set;
To complete it I simply stripped my old townie, pulled some Avid canties out of my junk box, and placed an order for a Swobo saddle. Easy as pie.
Thanks for the generosity Handsome, though I'd be lying if I said I thought my bike did it's namesake justice.
And by the way, as a matter of fact that is a Dura Ace chain that I'm sporting down there.
Lowest of the high class, from start to finish.
Alright, that's pretty much it from this end. I suppose I'll close out with a shot of David Yow doing what David Yow does best;
And a thanks to Mitch Kline for this week's header shot. Not bad for a drunk guy.
Happy Monday everybody.
It's just like the weekend, except we have to be at work.
One for the weekend, plus a little bit of business for some friends.
Secondly, there has been a car crash of sorts within the ins and outs of the Soulcraft Bicycles database on account of a good bit of folk's information therein is outdated, duplicated, or what have you. If you would like to receive the simi-regular news letter that will fill you in on all things crafty and soulie, then what you gotta do is simply go here
And here we are once again at the true business end of the week.
Seeing as I've still yet to unpack my bags from last weekend, and got swamped by a pretty busy work week to boot, I am opting to keep this one brief, but before we move on to important matters, I'd like to take the opportunity to wish How To Avoid The Bummer Life a very happy third birthday.
Of course I also need to extend a thanks to Cake Wrecks for the use of some of their finery.
Who knew three years ago that I'd still be suckered into into doing this?
Well, like those drug addled hippies once said 'what a long, strange trip it's been', but would you believe that during the whole course of doing this blog, I haven't gotten laid one single time because of it?
I swore I read in GQ that being a part time, quasi-professional blogger was like, totally the fast track to the ladies hearts.
Lies.
But lets talk about lies, and lady hearts for a second. It's been brought to my attention that there is a power out there in the universe far stronger than any half rate blogger position in terms of attracting women's affections, and for the small price of fifteen dollars (for the adult large size, anyway) this power could be yours, and based on the item's reviews, I'd say that no single individual is strong enough to shoulder this particular gift.
But be forewarned- with great power comes great responsibility.
With that being said, it's only appropriate that I should segue into the recent, and considerably well presented piece by Joe "I hate orange jumpsuits" Lindsey on the ever developing Lance Armstrong media boycott/empire over on Bicycling(dot)com.
You know, I don't have much of an opinion on this matter, as I care very little about much more beyond being able to pay my rent, and not spraining my wrists while preforming keg stands, but I will say that I find this saga particularly interesting given Armstrong's whole 'transparency' platform from earlier this Spring, and also that I still think the critics are correct when concluding that Twitter is the first nail in the coffin for the English language, and that we as human beings don't need yet another short cut for our already sorely lacking attention spans.
But you know, that's just me.
In other news, how about an email from Loudass which will only serve to inflate his ego to beyond his belt size;
"To follow up with our discussion of Steve Larsen’s tragic and untimely death, here’s a picture of me riding virtually the same spot at the UCI World Cup in Napa two years earlier in 1997.
Unlike Steve, however, I am not smiling, but scowling because it was hotter than Africa and there was no beer/chips/pornography feed. That race was my “career best”, with a third place podium finish. [Out of three singlespeeders who finished, ha!] As I recall, Ferrentino and the Amigos assured me that they would “represent” that year, since it was first time that the UCI had a singlespeed class… but no one showed up except me, Mo and some dude from Willits. I also recall that some Italian pros were mean to me like in Breaking Away. That part made me very sad."
Back then, Loudass was just as loud, there was simply less of him than there is now.
In other news, Newt sent me a link to I Hate Your Fashion, which is a delightful romp through photographic proof that the deluded are increasing in numbers, but of all the gems hidden therein, this one made me laugh the hardest.
Of course anything with Arnold makes me laugh.
Except that movie where he played a young prodigy genius who was an outcast at college cause he was only ten.
That one touched a nerve.
Now for a couple from the mail bag and y'all can get back to whatever you were doing before I got in the way.
Work.
Getting dressed.
Feeding the baby.
Making a baby...
Russell wrote in to let me know that he and I were pretty much on the same page this past weekend, with the exception of the fact that it would appear as though a couple of his riding partners are far easier on the eyes than mine were;
"Stevil,
Your photo journal of last weekends adventure moved me to send you a picture of us Okies that are practicing bummer life avoidance. We had a great ride at the Clear Bay trail next to Lake Thunderbird here in Norman.
Post ride beers were had, and the visiting riders from Tulsa, Jeremy and Lacy, provided some tasty snacks afterward. Such hospitality among riders!! The amount of rain here in the middle of the country has kept us from riding as much as we would have like lately, so we were super-stoked and wanted to share. Thanks for the continual laughs and keep up the sweet blog.
Russell
Norman, Ok."
Norman, Oklahoma huh? Let's see what we can find out about this so called Norman Oklahoma.
Well, upon a quick web search I've found that among other things, Norman is home of the Weitzenhoffer Collection, which for you lay people is one of the most important collections of impressionist art ever given to an American university.
It also was listed in Money Magazine as the sixth best place to live in the United States, falling just below Gum Ball Island Hawaii, and Free Cocaine Delaware, among others.
Also, it was more or less founded by Abner Norman, who initially preferred the name 'Moustache Canyon', but ultimately gave in when his team of surveyors shaved his off in his sleep.
Do your brains feel ripe with knowledge now?
I've always felt that I missed out on my true calling as a school teacher, but as my parents, who were both career teachers always said to my sister and me, "We'll always love and support you no matter what you do with your lives as long as it makes you happy, but we would probably question you if you decided to become teachers."
It wasn't until just now that I realized they might have meant that I would have been a super crappy teacher and it wasn't that they were looking out for my best interests, but rather those of the unfortunate souls who ultimately would have ended up under my guidance.
Here is a cool bit of news.. You all know that I'm a big fan of the old Rock Shox seatposts.. Well, as fate would have it, some of the small parts on the posts began to fail after time, which is a drag because I finally ran out of spare pieces, and ultimately had to resort to raping every single part off of a post that Complayna loaned me for my better half's old bike many moons ago. Well low and behold but it turns out my old chum TJ in Colorado is a bit of a rocket professor and was able to make me a whole new batch of bits and pieces;
It's awesome to have friends who are smarter than you are. I've practically paired my entire existence down to eating and pooping because if it.
I also need to mention for our friends in and around Portland that the latest installment of the Urban Assault Ride is happening this weekend;
Don't be caught with your pants down, unless of course that is one of the ride's challenges.
Be there or be square.
Moving on... Jake sent me a site that I've had here before, but I might as well shine a spotlight upon it once again just because It kinda wouldn't be right not to;
"Thanks for helping me avoid the bummer life. Thought you might like to check out some awesome unicorn tattoos.
Jake"
But of course I would Jake.
You'd be a fool not to.
And with that burst of awesomnimity, I bid you a fond farewell until next time.
These words were uttered by Friendly Paul as we stood on the top of the world this past weekend when discussing how we had talked about doing this trip for the past three years.
You see, Friendly Paul grew up in the quaint berg of Ojai, California and has been telling us about the riding in the region for many moons. Our planets finally aligned this Memorial weekend and Aaron, (who, it should be noted is the best scout master money can buy), Casey, Skinny Bee, Loudass and the guide, FP all converged on the region armed with mountain bikes, cameras, an arsenal of weaponry, and an assortment of consumables to keep us straight through our time away.
Of course, being the wrecked ship that we are, Aaron began attempting to secure a camp site within a couple of weeks of our arrival to town. Obviously we were going to have to play this by ear, so first things first, we stopped by The Madonna Inn for a head clearing cocktail, and to figure out our next step;
After finally arriving to town and scouting some spots to set up camp, we found this tree, that left me totally confused;
If anybody knows whats going on here, you wanna let me know?
Anyway, we ultimately found a sweet spot to dump our stuff, and by 'dump our stuff', I mean that very literally;
Once the load was lightened, we began a search for a well off the beaten path locked gate to a fire road that only twenty vehicles a day are allowed to pass upon. Aaron in his scout master ways somehow secured the combination to the lock, but during our hunt we came across a spot that can only be described as an utter disgrace;
This was only a tiny fraction of what some total douchebags left behind. There were computer monitors, headboards, televisions, fans, plates, broken bottles.. The list goes on and on, all abandoned in this once pristine creek basin.
Nature is awesome.
However, at the risk of sounding like a total hypocrite, the reason we were looking for the aforementioned super secret road was to bring out our own collection of fire arms and shoot up some beer cans. In our defense however, upon our departure, I'd like for it to be known that we diligently picked up every single spent cartridge, and shredded beer can and packed it back out.
I haven't had alot of experience with fire arms, so it was a bit of a treat to get to play with this kind of fire power, but more over, I especially enjoyed the incredible surroundings;
But you put an automatic weapon in the hands of a green horn monkey, (that would be me) and they are going to pull the trigger, (and note the three shells arcing through the air.)
Say hello to my little friend.
I mean, 'say hello to our little friends.
Those beer cans didn't stand a chance.
We packed up our goods for the trek out and began preparations for the following day's adventure, but not before throwing knives at Bee's feet;
I won that particular competition.
Waking up at the ass crack of dawn the following day, we donned our stretchy pants and awaited for FP's arrival. He took great pleasure in pointing out the very highest peak in the distant range, saying "you see that one? We're going to one just behind those trees that's a little bit higher." We rolled out and began the ascent which was between 13 to 15 miles, all the while gaining 6000 feet in elevation.. As an example of the gravity of this feat, I present exhibit A;
If you travel down the road to the middle of this shot with your eyes, you might barely see a tiny black spec. That is one of my compatriots, and at this stage in the game, we'd been riding for about 45 minutes to an hour. The cliffs you see in the background we actually ended up off to the left of, at an even higher elevation. Intimidation does not begin to express the sensation a few of us were feeling at this point. However, before I continue, I'd like to include a nice shot of Loudass frolicking in a stream for three reasons. One because it's kind of a nice shot, two, to prove that he was there, and three because this was about the last time I saw him.
Surprisingly, despite the epic expanses that surrounded us, we didn't see any of it's natural inhabitants. Black bears, Bobcats, Mountain Lions, Deer, I would guess wild Turkeys, wild Boars and so fourth, as well as tracks or any evidence whatsoever were mysteriously nonexistent. I did however, see a million of these little buddies;
Every time I saw one scamper across the rocks in front of me I heard Steve Albini scream "I'm a little lizard trapped in a man's skin!"
Of course the seemingly endless climb wasn't all discussions about heart rate and VO2 max. Once or twice we stopped to engage in some quality Trundling;
At the end of this video you hear Casey say "Where'd John go?" to which Aaron replies "He won't stop cause he can't stop."
Eventually we found that the two donut and coffee breakfast wasn't quite enough fuel for the Loud one and he had to turn back to lick his wounds, but a short time later we finally reached the summit and drank in our surroundings;
Had I had the foresight to climb up that little rise behind me in the video, you would have seen this;
After a couple of miles of screaming fast fire road descents, with a little more climbing thrown in for good measure, we reached the point that we'd all been looking forward to, which was a little picnic table, more breathtaking vistas, and roast beef sandwiches that FP thoughtfully bought for us at a local market before we began our adventure;
Paul said one of the best things about white knee warmers is that they allowed him to sit with his feet daintily crossed.
Besides calling Friendly Paul 'Friendly Paul', for obvious reasons we sometimes call him Euro Paul as well.
After lunch we continued on to either the last mile and 1000 more feet of elevation gain, or the beginning of our hard earned six mile single track descent.
We flipped an invisible coin and opted for the latter;
After returning to camp and cleaning up as well as one can with a box of baby wipes and a camp site faucet, we met up with the the whole Friendly Family, but unfortunately I just got a single shot of Friendly brother and Friendly Dad;
When asking friendly Mom if Friendly Dad had ever not had a moustache, he interjected "I was born with a moustache!" As you can well imagine, Friendly Dad and I had alot to talk about.
After dinner we returned to camp where one more quotable quote was made by Casey in reference to our tent's oversized glory hole when he simply exclaimed from the confines of our shelter, "I've seen alot of bad things."
In an attempt at wrapping this post up, I have to once again give Scout Master Aaron credit for his view of vacations. He elaborated on how at one time in his life he felt the need to get home as early as he could the day before work in order to decompress from his time away and prepare for the following day in the salt mines, however now his perspective is to attempt to turn the return into an extension of the vacation itself, which was met with resounding approval and resulted in minature golf and the driving of tiny cars;
The only bummer part of the whole weekend was when the space shuttle landed at Edwards Air Force Base on Sunday, breaking the sound barrier and creating a sonic boom that was so epically loud that we all sat at the picnic table staring slack jawed at each other, certain that any second we were all about to get swept away in an enormous wall of hellfire, but that only lasted for about 35 seconds.
It really wasn't anything that another can of beer couldn't ease.
So that's it. The bummer life was once again avoided with the grace and confidence that only a group of trained professionals could muster.
Thanks for tuning in and sitting tight. I know it was a wordy one and I hope not too boring.
Rest assured, we'll get back to the regularly scheduled assortment of jackassery on Friday.
With a pinch of over and a dash of out, I'm gonesville..
Personally, I was never a huge fan of Steve. I crossed paths with him many times over the years, and every time was like an exchange with an overly uptight middle school principal. He was an extraordinarily disciplined and committed athlete, while I on the other hand am not. However there was one time that we saw eye to eye, and luckily that instance was caught on film and ultimately used for a Control Tech ad.
In the above photo shot and prepared by Kelly Hobkirk, what you see is Mr. Larsen grinding it out with a big smile on his face through the second 50 Yards of Hell event at the 1999 World Cup mountain bike race at Skyline Park in Napa California.
What the casual observer might not immediately notice is Ezra's forehead, Ben Jacques-Maynes, Stella Carey, Loudass and his bag of chips, and myself in mid-freakout behind him, creating a disturbance. Of course the ad implies that the joy spread across Steve's face is due to the fact that he has such a deep love for riding his bike, which of course he did, but what we who were there know to be fact is that laid out before me on the ground was the centerfold of that month's issue of Barely Legal.
It was then that I decided that Steve wasn't such a bad guy after all.. Even if he never let me know directly, that smile tells me that all of his uppity antics, and puffed-out-chest posturing were just for show, and deep down in that finely tuned body beat the heart of a derelict.
Of course there was another time at the Sea Otter when we were watching the pros warm up for the short track event and Loudass called me a dumb honky. Steve actually turned around and came right up to us, fists clinched and said "what did you say to me!?" and Loudass said “I wasn’t talking to you, but I suppose that the term applies anyway....”
We all had a little stare down, and he eventually remembered that he was supposed to be racing bicycles and turned to get back to his business at hand.
Moments later we nicknamed JMac 'Mexican J', which is funny cause he's Filipino.
Anyway, Godspeed Steve. Another few exchanges with us and you might just have ended up down here in the trench with all the other bottom feeders.
In other news, Aaron wrote in with a simple observation;
Ryan from The Bike Bloc also wrote in with a correction on the location of their Memorial Day Massacre;
Take note, cause there is nothing more embarrassing than showing up to play bike polo in a place where there is no one else to play bike polo with.
Unless of course you forgot to put on pants.
I suppose that would be more embarrassing.
Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night and wonder how it is that 685 (who by the way, has a pretty sweet interview in the new issue of Fixed Magazine. Page 36, dont 'cha know?) goes about avoiding the bummer life?
Well wonder no more, cause he sent a shot to us of himself doing just that:
He obviously is a pro.
Well, folks.. I'm gonna cut this one a bit short because the weekend is calling. The coming days are going to find Skinny Bee, Casey, Aaron, Friendly Paul, Loudass and myself engaging in a ridiculous(ly long) off road adventure, the outcome of which will most assuredly be engaging.
Thousands of feet of climbing, and an estimated six to eight hours in the saddle.
Straight away, we'll start off with a bit of business.
We've got new shirts.
Sadly, the above example isn't one of them.
I've told a bunch of folks that I'd notify them when a new batch of shirts came in, but that's alot of emails to write, so I'll just dump it in your laps this way.
We have a whole new load of our fancy-pants, and super duper comfy organic cotton t-shirts back in stock.
Don't get caught sleeping.
..Ahh... another post that starts off like a knotted shoelace...
That is to say I have no general direction these days due to the copious amounts of narcotics I'm on, so we begin at the beginning, meander to and fro, wrapping, and twisting until we reach the other end.
And there we sit in knots, waiting for tomorrow.
What the hell was I just talking about? I blacked out for a second.
Let's get right into the good stuff with an email from M;
"Stevil,
Been soaking up your anti-bummer life goodness for a while, finally thought I would send something your way.
A few things. First and foremost, if this hasn't been sent in before, it should have.
Second, just wanna give a shout out to the quality bike scene in the general Dallas (or Dallasss if you prefer) area. A couple hundred miles of good (and some better than good) trails within an hour radius could keep you in new trails for a good long while if'n you were just startin out.
Of course, it's not just the trails. There are lot's of peeps in the area that are cyclists to the core. Dive deeper and you find clans of Commies, dirtbags, riders of the fixed, and they all share a love of two wheel transport. It's a fantastical wonderland simmering beneath the surface of the metromess. Despite the heat, we even have the occasional beard. That and we race. Credit for that bit of fine art photography goes to Brian B aka Porkchop, the man with the rockin facial hair. Truth be told, the man with the blown out britches hails from Cali, but we claim him. Come see these fine specimens and others at the Tuesday night SS ride, to be held at Oak Cliff Nature Preserve this week, or as it is known when this ride is held there, Dipshit Hollow.
-M"
That email had so much of the good stuff in it, I wept.
And speaking of beards, there is some rumination on the matter over on the Soulcraft blog;
"Sometimes you might come across a ride that seems tailor made for the bicycle you happen to be riding, and vice versa.
Sunday's exploration and the Dirtbomb have just such a union.
On a side note, at some point during my meanderings, I realized that I don't really care what type of terrain I ride as long as I'm alone, and can listen to my thoughts, and at that very moment my thoughts told me "you know, moustaches don't make an ounce of sense..Foreskins? I'll give you foreskins.. and facial hair in general has a practical purpose, but moustaches all by themselves? I'll be damned if I get it."
It was as profound an experience as I'm sure you can imagine."
I can, and I do. I mean, the irony I get, and I've even been known to rock a moustache from time to time mostly as a tribute to those who wear them well, those who wear them particularly well, and then those who's attempts are just so pathetic that they are astounding all unto themselves.
For my part, I fall somewhere in between, but that doesn't change the fact that I still don't get what their practical purpose is, or if there ever was one.
Sometimes it's simply not to ask the reason why. Sometimes there are just things I don't understand.
Case in point? This photo that Potter sent in;
I'm not able to wrap my mind around this one, but that isn't to say that there aren't people who can.
Obviously cyclocross isn't the only thing people in Boulder take seriously.
Ahhh.. So this is what it looks like from the bottom of the barrel?
After all, I guess it was just a matter of time before we got here.
How how about some news on the tool front? We here at Swobo are very proud to be carrying the new 3 Wrencho from our friends at Portland Design Works.
If you've got love for 15mm wrenches like I do, then this is most assuredly something you'll want to check out.
Here is a interesting bit of news that was sent on from Bobo;
"Wow: could it be true? I hope they have a bar for the spectators to watch from?
I signed the petition, but seeing as I am so broke, I literally can't afford to pay attention, all I asked was exactly the question Bobo posed.
For that matter, If I could get a brick with my name on it, not in the infield, but actually on the bar top, I'd do what I can to raise that thousand clams.
No matter how depraved, or how much mechanicaleroticisim was involved.
(I'm reasonably sure I just made that term up.)
As I turn my bag o' stuff upside down, and inside out, I feel as though we've made a good effort here today. Happy Wednesday to you all.
Everyone, no matter what their gender, needs a refuge, and I spent an inordinate amount of time in mine this past weekend, making messes, fixing things, and just generally preparing for the upcoming summer months. It's hard to believe that summer time is once again upon us, and the months of soggy slogging through the grey and cold is finally at our back.
Of course with the nice weather comes the regularly scheduled onslaught of alleycat races, non- alleycat races, and just your general, store bought bicycle related mayhem.
Ryan from Seattle's Bike Bloc wrote in with a list of just such events.
This first one is another ladies only event brought to you by our friends at Mobius Cycles;
If you're a boy, don't bother.... Unless of course you're planning on lending a hand, providing bike washes, distribution of liquid refreshments, back rubs, moral support, and so fourth.
However, if you happen to be a dude and you're feeling the itch for competition yourself, fear not, because there are these two that don't care what you've got between your legs, as long as it's a bike;
Few are happier that the doldrums of winter have passed than those in Portland, and to celebrate the departure of the suffocating winter blues, Captain Dave is getting ready to throw an event that is not only good for the goose, but good for the gander as well;
I'd like to note that Dave originally sent this flyer to me in a PDF file, and I just now used my big brain to turn it into a Jpeg.
... All by myself.
It really is a red letter day in the realm of technological advances for me.
Anyway, not only is summer time the ripe part of the year for being out and about on bicycles, but it's good for watersliding, rope swinging, barbecuing, beer drinking, and sometimes even camping.
Of course I can't broach the topic of camping without including this video Sammy sent, along with an email that just said "dude, seriously";
What else can one do when hanging out in the woods in a blue speedo, while fanning the flames of their fire with an ore? It only makes sense.
A couple of weeks ago Cary sent this poster on to me;
While it's kinda clever and made me smile a bit, it didn't totally make sense until I happened to stumble across this article.
You can't make stuff like that up.
I sent an email to our friend David who works at Vice and asked him if he was lucky enough to get tangled up in her web of deceit, to which he said he had not.
Prolly cause he doesn't have a beard.
Personally, the only beard I love is that on the face of Chuck Norris.
But it's mostly because I'm afraid of what will happen to me if I don't.
Here is a shot that TinaB sent in that has nothing to do with anything other than the fact that it totally rules;
I loved this so much I put it up in our Flickr account, but while I was over there, I was reminded that I haven't made mention recently about the Bummer Life's continuing photo contest. The prizes keep stacking up, and as I mentioned before, the winner wont be picked until I'm damn good and ready, so keep the photos coming in.
(send 'em to stevil@swobo. I like to keep it easy.)
In closing, here is a video from Newt and his Great Humongous that is sure to please;
If the girl's mouth was a person, it would be a ninja.
However some of Julie's competition in the wildcard event was Daichi, and I kinda feel like if his mouth was a person it would be a ninja with a gun.
Monday is once again upon us, and as such, it's time our noses met with the grindstones.
Grin and bear it, and don't forget to do nice things for yourself at least once a day until we meet up with the weekend again.
It can be anything from sleeping in, to riding your bike in the middle of the day, to getting 'I love beards' tattooed across your back.
The world is your oyster.. Crack it open and let a little bit of it slide down your throat.
"Polish girls must be tough cookies. First a one-armed table tennis player and now a woman wanting to be a pro cyclist after having her foot ripped off."
This bit taken from Cycling News (the article in it's entirety is buried in there, somewhere) is pretty much the meat of the story;
"Triathlete Anna Harkowska of Poland wants to become a professional cyclist, which in itself is nothing unusual. But the 29-year-old had a terrible accident eight years ago, which makes her eligible for the Paralympics. But Harkowska dreams of doing both, the Paralympics and the Olympic Games in 2012.
Just when she decided to switch from triathlon to cycling eight years ago, she was struck by a car. It happened after a workout in 2001, when she was waiting at a bus stop in Stettin, Germany. "Through the impact my left foot was completely torn off. I was in a tremendous amount of pain," Harkowska said. A quick-witted person put the foot in ice and the doctors were able to suture the foot back on.
She became a regular in hospitals and to date had eight operations. Harkowska's ankle is made of carbon and her cnemis of titanium, but that doesn't prevent her from pushing 300 watts. Oliver Elsenbach of komsport even thinks he can get her to 380 watts with specific training."
It's stories like that, that makes saying "I can't do it" just a little bit more savory.
"Please note: this poster has not been condoned by Creed™, Walt Disney™, National Pork Producers Council™, Paris™ or God™6 color screenprint, measures 22"x 29", $40, edition of 40, signed and numbered."
You know what to do.
While farming the crops of the visually and mentally stimulating, I'll throw up a new email from Slappy;
"HolllR Yo, 18 hrs of fruita.. Pretty hard for me to not avoid ze bummer life, given that i have a broke leg, and i managed to ride around all weekend, for the first time in a month, hot dog that felt niiice.
ANnyway, it's pretty simple, some bike races are serious, i guess, but an 18 hr relay around a resevoir, does not need to have a bunch of self serious amateurs runnin' shit. That's what STmprlllaz are for. That's why we race 8 + Xtra cycles, just cuz. Needless to say, 'twas pretty funny when one of the STompaz tied for 2nd fastest overall time, on a rigid xtra cycle, no big deal. Good stuff, thanks to Troy and Co, from Over the Edge etc. for puttin' on the race and puttin' up with us. Hehehe oh by the by, Durango SSWC Precursor warm up race this SUnday, 10 am $10 at the sports center, the 1992 Space Race..
Pain. peas slppy"
Now you know.
Would you like to dip your toes in the art pool again very briefly?
I would, but then again, I'm sensitive.
First up, we have this shindig down in Pasadena (which sits at the base of the San Gabriel mountain range, dont you know? -Surprisingly incredible mountain bike riding there.) Anyhoo, this is a one night engagement with one of my very most favorite painters, Michael Hussar;
The above painting is one by Michael called 'Gummer' and was one that finally made me wrap my mind around the fact that I really didn't know as much about the craft of painting as I thought I did.
Another individual who has unwittingly knocked me down the ladder of artistic self confidence is James Jean. This isn't to say that I am unable to look to either of these fellas for unflinching inspiration on the regular, because I most certainly can and do.
Like with any mode, or medium, I think it's healthy to have a carrot or two to chase, as long as you understand that you are not them, therefore there should be no pressure to perform as such.
And with that I confidently exhale, knowing my struggle to maintain the upper echelon of mediocrity is well intact.
Lastly, this list cannot be considered complete without the inclusion of his weirdness, Mr. Al Columbia;
"Why all the mumbo jumbo about art?" you might be asking yourself. Well, the truth is that I'm high on paint fumes.
I've recently returned to the studio after a fairly extensive break, and I feel at one with the brush again, which is saying something, considering the state of my 'studio';
I cant so much as sneeze without bumping my head on at least fifteen different bikes.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but some day when I grow up, I would relish in an actual, honest-to-God studio. Until that time comes however, I will most likely continue to be in a place where confusing a pallet knife with a tri-allen is as common place an occurrence as Loudass buying rounds.
Since we're on the topic of folks with an artistic bent, let's jump into an email from Sucka Pants
"Hey Stevil,
A little gem for HTATBL, I think. . . So we are getting around town on some old bikes we found at a local flea market. One of the tires was busted, so one of the crew fixed it with a round solid piece of rubber, stapled together and drywall-screwed to the rim. You can see it in the photo. I thought you might find this bit of ingenuity amusing."
MacGyver ain't got nothin' on them.
In closing, how about an email from Karl Rover concerning an incident in the place where they not only take cyclocross seriously, but apparently driving while on copious amounts of snozberries as well;
"Hey Stevil,
I came across this article while browsing the local Boulder paper, and thought you may enjoy it. Kind of makes you miss the homeland, huh?"
It absolutely does, and being the nostalgic individual that I am, the article also made me remember fondly of the time when I was picked up by the Boulder P.D. for being rather asleep in front of the Daily Camera building.
At least I mostly remember it.
Hey ho, that's it from this front.
Happy Friday, everybody. As I've said many times before, we all have, for the most part, arrived at the point of the week when we are fully allowed to turn the knob to 11 and then break it off.
I forgot. Maybe it was Elton John.
Anyway, the Loudness from Long Beach are back in our realm and will be playing at Thee Parkside Thursday night in conjunction with Naked Rob's dirty forty. A party for a guy named Naked Rob? How can you go wrong?
Don't forget your ear plugs.
And your pants.
I'm so excited to start this post, I haven't even taken off my stretchy pants and tap shoes that I was just wearing whilst speed cycling.
So you all are familiar with Uma, right? She is the one who I referred to as the fancy big sister of this clan of the damned that spends time at the soda shoppe with her friends, while CFO is left playing with himself in the attic.
Oh, you missed that post?
Well, it was a good one.
This isn't a picture of Uma thankfully, but rather one of Tony E. Newman that was shot by Uma, dig?
Anyway, she is out tromping about in the world taking in the adventures, and fortunately for us, we're linked up with one another via Flickr, and I say fortunately, because otherwise I wouldn't have caught up on the following weirdness;
"A puzzling (and disturbing) site. What's the back story? All we know for sure is someone was trying to ride the wash when they had no business trying to ride the wash. Clearly."
"The frame was about 2 miles down the wash from where the wheels were abandoned. I can only imagine the level of frustration dude must have felt. I mean... That's XTR gruppo, man. You don't just leave that stuff behind."
Concerned for the well being of the individual who had once been attached to this steed, I surmised that Uma and her group were not far from Fruita, and assuming that they might be hell and gone from a phone for a while, I called Robby at OTE Sports to see if anyone had been reported missing, to which he said nope.
I love a good mystery as much as the next guy, but this one is even a bit much for me to wrap my mind around. That's like abandoning your baby because she smells like poo.
If you know anyone who went riding outside of Fruita recently but then came home with no bicycle, we are on the case.
And by 'on the case' I mean, the bike's been striped and all of the parts have been redistributed.
Of course you know I'm joking.
Robby and Uma on the other hand, I can't be so certain of...
I jumped the gun a little last week and posted the following flyer from the EC Scorchers for their upcoming Grand Theft Velo freak out in New Haven, Connecticut this coming weekend, but considering the fact that I sometimes forget my own birthday, that shouldn't come as much of a surprise.
Well, as an added bonus, they are fixing (no pun intended) to host a trick jam throw down that is sure to amaze and delight;
Get your toe-endos and your cherry pickers ready.
So you all might remember us posting this flyer a little while ago for a girls only alleycat race in Austin that took place this past weekend.
Anna who was the mastermind behind the event got ahold of us to give us the lowdown;
"Hi Stevil,
The Side Saddle Alleycat was amazing!!!! Thank you so much for your help in sponsoring the event! Because of the random jersey sizes we decided to raffle them off which helped us raise a lot of money for the Mother's Milk Bank of Austin (who collects donated breast milk, processes it and distributes to ill infants who can't get the good stuff for various
reasons.) They may have been too warm for the race day (97 degrees), but I'm sure they will be cherished in the winter. We had 37 (1/2) ladies show up to race (one 4 months pregnant) and we had 30 finish. I had no clue how many ladies to expect because this is the first ladies only alleycat in Austin and I was blown away by the support from both sexes. I just love how a future momma raced for the cause!
Well the race went as such:
All the local bike boys ran the checkpoints making the girls eat butterscotch, do an origami fortune teller (this is what they look like if you don't remember), sew a button onto their shirt, shoot ducks with a toy rifle, and run into the Texas State Capitol to draw a sketch of Ann Richards.
There was a local film crew shooting the event for a film on the Austin Bike Scene and lots of awesome photographers to capture the race. Side events were open to both sexes and everyone had a great time watching the girls stomp the boys including a tall bike in the Texas footdown competition. I’m really happy that so many girls raced, for many it was their first alleycat. I’m sure they are hooked now and will feel more comfortable coming out to any of the upcoming co-ed alleycats. I’m excited to see all the new connections made in the girl bike community through this race; I know I made a lot of new friends (cheesy, I know but really awesome).
I just want to thank you again for making this event as wonderful as it was. All the girls really appreciated the love you sent.
Please check out pictures at these three different sites;
Not only are we glad to have been able to help this event grow some legs, but I'm particularly proud to have aided in such a noble cause.
Of course this means I now am free to get away with some trouble making since I've had a hand in creating some good.
At this point in the post, do you dare once again gaze upon Dangerous Hicks and all of his glory?
Of course you do.
Our new friend Joe, who is the one who stands in the middle of the East Bay purveyors of doom metal, The Worship of Silence wrote in to let us know about his new bike wood;
"Hey Stevil,
So, I bought a cross bike! I took it out on sunday for the first time in the dirt and had a blast with my bassist Paul (who grew up riding the northbay hills). we went up some hills and went down some stony paths, then I stuck my head in a stream (which was the best thing ever). The Bummer Life didn't have a chance. Next chance I get, I'm back up there, and hopefully soon, I'll be cruzing down to your hood so you can show me some other places to serpentine my way out of the Bummer Life's sniper style scope.
The photos you post on HTABL are one of the reasons I got a cross bike in the first place.
-Joe"
It's emails like this that really make my world go around. I know those trails that Paul and Joe were riding like the back of my hand, and they are among my very favorite on the planet.
One time several years ago I was out there on a solo death march in the peak of the summer heat and at some point my single remaining water bottle fell head long into a mosquito infested puddle, and I tell you man, I was dying. My saving grace was going to be that creek, and knowing that was to be my hard earned prize at the end of a long ride, I went a little harder and a little farther just to make it that much more awesome.
Well wouldn't you know that upon my arrival to the babbling savior, it was barely even a trickle, and my heart broke into dust right there on the spot.
As did my kidneys.
As did my lungs.
As did my eyeballs.
Obviously Spring time is the best season to blow yourself out there.
Speaking of which, It's high time I blow myself out here.
But like.. Obviously not so much that I have to ditch my bicycle and wander away into the woods.
Or to the Focaccia sandwich line.....
Seeing as I'm still playing catch up from my recent breaks from the day to day, why don't we jump right into the correspondences that have piled up, and pull out a couple of gems?
The previous image was sent by Nick, and for that I am glad.
Moving on..
Loudass wrote in with one for the WTF file with an attached note that simply said;
I don't know about you all but I totally want to hang out with those guys.
The next correspondence comes from Justin, and contains a link that I've had up here before, but it would be a crime not to blow this up a little more just due to the sheer stupidity (and by that I mean the total awesomeness) of it;
"stevil, htabl crue,
the following link is to a great , new doc. over the thrill of hauling ass down a mountain road somewhere up north of the US border...on a SHOPPING CART!
Truly amazing at odds with society, yet still avoiding a lot that sucks.
peace
justin
denton tx"
MASH SF has some catching up to do.
Oh, wait.. I gotta report on some cool stuff that just happened across the street. About a month ago the kid that lives over there was goofing around with his soft pellet gun and I heard one of the BBs hit near Skinny B and me. I told him very gently that if either of us got hit, accident or not, I was going to come over there and break his gun.
Well apparently he just shot his little brother in the face, and his dad completely came unglued and broke his gun for me, which resulted in what looks like some dents in the back of their SUV due to his fists repeated punching of it.
There are alot of 15 year old's tears falling right now.
Anyhoo... Back to bike junk and some words from Dayton;
"People think of the city of San Francisco, and they think pavement. They think concrete jungle, hobos, sidewalks, parks consisting of tennis and basketball courts, bars, restaurants, and shops. Well, them folk are kinda right.
But there's an exception to every rule, and trails in San Francisco are one of them. We have more small networks of trails than many rural areas I've lived in before, and we're working on making them better and more accessible. And who is this 'we?' well, other than rougue elements digging jumps into park hillsides (that they really shouldn't - even if the jumps are totally rad) there's a group called SF Urban Riders, that if your readership that hails from in and around the city doesn't know about, well they should now. Because, we're getting organized, we're developing a voice, and we're going to build more trails like those up on Mt. Sutro, and if Seattle can have their Collenade, what's to stop us from having our own version of that same amazing style of urban off-road park?
Check out the fun film made between a couple friends on the trails of San Francisco:
Who cares if you post our video (though it is a fine example of bummer life avoidance), but as your blog is something a fair number of fat-tire-minded folk pay attention to, a little publicity for hard working advocates couldn't hurt...
-dayton crites"
All I gotta say is watch out for the bum poo and DFL Brad sleeping in the bushes.
They are easy to spot because they're usually in the same general proximity to one another.
But in all seriousness, good looking out you all. Thanks for the hard work and dedication to the cause.
So did everybody have a good weekend? For our part, Mr. Blacksocks and I did our best to ensure this trail was adequately appreciated;
And as of yet, I've got no Poison Oak to show for it.
Bringing out his A-game meant dusting off a bike that was being ridden at races before most people even knew what a single speed mountain bike was;
Of course of all of the new doodads that have been hung off of that old frame in the last sixteen years, I was glad to see the old Cook Bros. cranks were still hanging tough, but just in case the crank bolt began backing out, we had the super secret Paragon 'multi tool' with us;
In the back of my head, all I could hear was Robert Ives making cracks about grassers, and something about if one was to use that tool for one of it's intended purposes more than the other, it wouldn't really matter if you were stuck in the woods with a broken bike or not.
To jump from one subject to another as we tend to here, let's talk about mail again.
As much as I like the virtual mail, you all are well aware that I tend to prefer actual mail, a couple quality samples of which I got last week. The first being from the good people at HorroH as a thank you for helping out with their recent 'Fixed Fight' alley cat race down there in hanging chad.... Er, I mean Florida;
I got one of their spoke cards, a nice thank you note, and this cool little button holder card. Both of the buttons went immediately onto my sweatshirt, garnering me instant street cred.
Secondly, I got a package that was crafted with such love that as soon as I opened it, I began crying like a fifteen year old who's soft pellet gun was just broken by my dad. This offering came from none other than The Bike Snob himself. (However, the Oakley 3-esque Ergon grip was mine.)
But what was equally favorable is that now do I not only know that chow mein is only $4.45 at the No.1 Chinese Restaurant in Brooklyn, but I was later offered the song list with his trademark lime green arrows and notations on it;
Trading books is one thing, but you know you've truly arrived in the realm of bike blogs when you begin getting mix CDs from people.
Now to close this one out, it is with a heavy heart that I bring to your attention the passing of one of our own as The Bummer Life's first ever Monday Hero, Anthony Sloan.
In the brief correspondence from Chopper notifying us of Anthony's passing, he simply writes;
"He was a great person—the kind of guy who makes you want to be a better dude."
That's the most anyone could hope for in a friend.
Haul ass, Anthony. We'll see you on the other side.
There is so much shaking, it's like an earthquake.
For your perusal, approval, and general edification, I now present to you what's going on in the heads and hearts of the people. First up, you know there is gonna be another party in Minneapolis again this weekend.
I mean, why wouldn't there be?
This time it's not just to celebrate my own personal entry-level handsomeness. Nope- this time around it's to celebrate the real deal and the official launch of Handsome Cycles.
With a name like that, you know you're gonna get lucky.
Anyway, in case you don't have super power vision, all of the details are as follows;
"Join Handsome Cycles May 8th, 2009 for the official coming out celebration for our inaugural line of Handsome Bicycles. At 9:00 pm bikes will be unveiled, beer will flow and music will ring out. The cycling public is welcome. Don't miss the chance to see, touch and feel the truly handsome."
I don't know how the folks in MLPS do it, but I'm certainly glad they do.
In other reports from the Midwest, via Cog Magaine, via Portland and the new powerhouse of Portland Design Work's own DPow! we get the skinny on the fact that the bronze Fonz does indeed approve of tarck bikes;
You know, on my Wednesday afternoon solo speed cycle ride in my stretchy pants and tap shoes I began reflecting on all of the bitching I've seen and heard the past few years about the explosion of tarck bikes and those who love them. It occurred to me that 20 some odd years ago, a common topic among my two wheeled brethren and myself was that we all wished there were more folks who rode bikes thereby creating a greater visual presence which we hoped would result in a more common understanding and acceptance of our ilk. Today, as in this very moment, there are more folks riding bikes, and appreciating bikes, which is in fact creating a louder dialog among city planners and so fourth than I've ever seen before, but simultaneously I hear a bunch of clap trap about 'stupid fixter this, and stupid fakenger that.'
Of course these folks aren't the only newish group who are in our fold, but they seem to be on the receiving end of a bulk of the ire, and frankly, I just don't get it.
More people on bikes?
Check.
A boost to the industry and the lifestyle which we hold so dear?
Check.
More bike shops, alley cat races (and bike events in general), and a greater visual presence?
Check, and check, even if the presence (see: acceptance) is in tiny, and sometimes unrecognizable increments.
More people are on bikes now than ever in my lifetime, but they're not on the right kind of bikes, or their clothes are silly, or they don't embrace the history which we take so seriously, or they take themselves too seriously, and they don't have that right because they've only been riding for a year...
Anyway, if anybody can explain to me what the big deal is, I'm all ears.
Ears and eyebrows.
And that reminds me, I have big eye brows. Well, truthfully, I have one big eyebrow, and sometimes when I ride it gets filled with sweat and man, when I'm peacefully riding along and that dam breaks, It's like getting a vile of vodka and cat urine dumped in my eyes.
It's a wonder I've not met up with a business end of a ditch because of it.
Ok, thanks for letting me get that off my chest.
Back to business.
Max wrote in with some insight on riding long bikes;
"Hat Dawg, it's upon us again, the single sweetest bike race i've ever done. . and by sweeet, i mean like pie.. 18 hrs of Fruita with a team of 8 XtraCycled StOMpariLLAZ.. this weekend. .sheesh, got some pix from last year..
I got a broken leg this time around so i'll proably be out in a canoe in the middle of the resevoir, but i'll make sure everyone races to the highest possible level, or somethin' come by the big camp if yer at the race, bring spray paint."
xoxox slapppppy
Then Captain Bluenoser writes in with a short and sweet submission that got me all misty eyed.
... Or was that the sweat again?
"Hey Stevil,
Here is a soft Sunday Ride In Nova Scotia.
Thom
-Bluenoser"
That looks to be the kind of ride that suits me best.
It's been a while since we heard from CFO, due to his busy schedule of molding the minds of the future and bumming everyone of a female persuasion out within a 50 mile radius, but he got busy and served up the kind of rigamarole that we love him for;
"My new bike,
Potter dancing behind my new bike,
sopapillias and breakfast in Bert and Ernie Jammies...All RAD.
The pics. of potters ass and balls (self portraits taken with my MOM's camera when I was getting coffee) have been omitted....I don't want that shit on my computer.
CFO"
I think I speak for all of us when I say thank you for sparing us the horror of seeing Potter's fleshy parts.
I'm still paying for the therapy I had to under go the last time that stuff was sprung on me.
And yeah, I know I said that I have no interest in this being a web log full of people's kids, but when the quality shots come in, I gotta do what I gotta do.
Case in point, this next email from Bobo;
"Check out this great photo of Jason Seligman's daughter killing it. Way worthy of the Bummer Life..
Thanks for posting the Lemurian shot...Definitely suffering like Mr. Ives as I felt like I had been hit by a bus for a full week after the race..
Hope life is treating you well. I am screwed with work...
Bobo"
I call that shot right there 'the surly girly', and I hope I never find myself on the receiving end of her very evident venom.
The little one looks like she could pack a punch.
Another topic that I thought I'd put to bed of course is bacon, but evidentially Tristan feels otherwise, and really, for all intent and purposes, I can't very well argue;
"Saw this and immediately thought of you. Hipsters may have tarnished bacon's street cred, but no one can fuck with the devil, right?
-Tristan"
Even my lingering vegetarian tendencies feel as though it would be a crime not to pick that up just for novelty's sake.
You know, this past weekend there was this big event down in the city of angels that we helped sponsor and El Corpo spent a chunk of time at;
Over on our sister blog, there is a cut and paste report from The Boss that I just put up which you might like.
I did.
Finally in closing, the badasses that are the EC Scorchers have their third annual Grand Theft Velo shindig about ready to blow;
New Haven is set to burn, so if you find yourselves in the neighborhood, get to it, and turn the rad to eleven.
Even though this will be a four day work week for me, I still feel pretty ripe for a weekend, and I plan to wring the life out of it.
Here is to all of you doing the same, and as usual, I'll have a virtual high five ready for you all on Monday.
Firstly, today's post is a long one that you might need to commit a little more time to than usual, so you'd best put on your reading glasses and get comfy in your reading chair to knuckle down for it.
Secondly, writing this post has been a bit of a struggle. I'm afraid I've wrung all of the adjectives out of my pea brain in any and every other report back from the city of tiny apples. If you're dying to find out the blow by blow, you might just want to go back here, here, here,or here. It's kind of the same thing.
With that being said, and assuming you're still here, I suppose we should get on with it.
The transition into this trip was definitely noteworthy and should probably be front and center to kick this one off. A month ago GeneO and I sat down and discussed the specifics of my time there, most importantly the actual date on which the party at the studio was supposed to happen. I walked away from that meeting and within a week I had a flight booked and the digital announcements completed. All I had to do was to get to town, and have the paintings shipped, which as it turned out was much too tall an order. On the Wednesday before the show was to open I looked at the UPS tracking information which told me that all of the paintings were scheduled to arrive two days late. My heart began to fall, but when I then looked at my flight itinerary which said that I was actually supposed to arrive two hours after the reception was set to begin, it dropped down to my feet and oozed out from beneath my toe nails.
I pulled out every stop I could and was finally able to get the paintings pulled off of the train in Chicago and overnighted to Minneapolis. It wasn't a guarantee, but things were beginning to look a little bit better than they were previously. I got to the airport on Friday at the ass crack of the day in an attempt at jumping an earlier flight, which ultimately got me to Phoenix, but with no promise of catching my connector. I blasted off of my plane and hot footed it across the Phoenix airport only to realize that I'd looked at my original ticket, and I had mere minutes to get back across the sprawling expanses to where I had just been. On my return the ticket agent took one look at my hollow eyes and did me the solid that I needed, though that wasn't enough to protect me from myself, as I promptly dropped the ticket, and walked into the bathroom to wash my face. Shaking his head in disbelief, my guardian angel stepped up one more time and delivered my errant ticket to me in the hands of a good samaritan.
Suffice it to say, I did everything humanly possible to ensure that the weekend's festivities fell flat, but despite my best efforts, everything went flawlessly.
Waking up the next morning we dismissed ourselves to breakfast, and began formulating the day's plan, which ultimately led to this;
At one point somebody mentioned that K Mac's new neighbors had a little 50 track that wrapped around their house, so GeneO and I went off to do a little recon. Nearing the location, I looked up and said "I hear 50s" and then promptly stuffed my front wheel in a huge hole and went over the bars, folding like a book. Our new friends welcomed us into the yard with open arms and showed us their new kicker that they had made with the dirt that days before lived in the hole that just made me fall down.
Elmes and Gene got hot on the noisy toys, the former of the two conducting a clinic on how to case a jump and crash into a fence. I have to admit though, the ample levels of lubrication were most likely the cause of, as well as what prevented any injuries from occurring during our time there.
Fearing for our well being, we returned to Mac's house and climbed some trees;
As we sat in the backyard, John the Heathen, and his buddy Jeremy broached matters of grand importance such as the golden rule that should never be broken- Under no circumstances should someone who's passed out with their shoes off be written on, or mettled with in any way. Everyone seemed to be in agreement on this point, simply because if the sleeper in question at least had the wherewithal to remove their shoes before slumber, they should be off limits to anyone with a marker, (toothpaste, a hand full of flower, Tiger Balm, etc.) and artistic bent. Now, having been an instrumental voice in this line of reasoning, you might be surprised to find that I eventually woke up with John and Jeremy standing over me, giggling maniacally as they were putting the finishing touches on 'I eat poop' across my forehead. As they both correctly stated the following morning, I would have been offended had they taken the high road and left me alone.
Sadly I don't think there is any photographic proof of their handiwork, but you all are a creative bunch. I'm sure you can use your imaginations on this one.
As the sun rose over us the following morning, we got a mini spin on, and spent a fair amount of time lounging around and watching the clouds go by.
The annual May Day festivities were taking place not far from where we were resting, so we decided to roll through and get some people watching taken care of. And believe me, there was people watching a'plenty due to the fact that Minneapolis doesn't take May Day lightly, and freaks from every walk of life came out in force, but this guy raised the freak flag to a whole new level;
From this point the downward slide continued.
"Lets go home and take a naps, er.. uh.. I mean lets go by and see GeneO, and get pizza."
"I'm tired, but not that tired- six Bloody Marys, nine pints of Guinness, and fourty two beers between four people seems reasonable".
"Bla, bla, bla, so on and so fourth..." You know the rest.
The long and the short of it is, Minneapolis provided the backdrop to yet another (mis)adventure, and I suppose as long as we're on the topic of adventures, (as well as to wrap this one up,) Swobo hero Sucka Pants has begun the adventure of several life times, which will include this janky ass Huck Finn Style raft, and bicycles of every sort, about which you can keep updated on right here.
I suspect his trip is going to make a weekend of street grade debauchery look like a church social in comparison.
Thanks for your ears and eyes on this one. I feel as though nearly all of my sins have been absolved, which of course means I'm now free to go do it all over again next weekend. Shall I assume you'll be coming along with me?
