Fuck Gas

Hola, amigos!

It’s been a minute since I blindly punched the keys of this old computer while connected to this stupid website. For that, I hope you forgive me and warmly accept my musings into your cold, black heart. There have been changes in my hazy life since we last conversed, but let me tell you, I probably felt they were a bigger deal when they, those things, happened than I do at all at this point. Those things? Where do we start…

Uno: Being that I enjoy addressing things that not only don’t really matter in my life, but neither in yours, I am now the Midwest representative to the North American Hardcourt board for bicycle polo. What does this mean, apparently nothing; as we have rules that when it comers down to making actual decisions that affect people’s polo lives the written rules are effectively up to interpretation. I could go into this more, but let’s face it, you don’t care.

Dos: I’m 37. I had a birthday. Upon said birthday Louisville Bike Polo (I know, more bike polo, sorry) had a tournament of sorts in which some guys asked for sponsorship from a few companies (Chunk, State and Seagull) where they, the guys, took most the “prizes” for themselves and left little, if any for the apparent competitors of so-called tournament. Ugh. Additionally, for my birthday dinner, my lovely girlfriend decided we’d hit up some new Mexican joint that also made me sick not only immediately following my meal, but also a couple days after. Moral of the story, never trust a Mexican to choose a Mexican restaurant for vegan dining

Thrice: My hetero life partner, 1/3 my bosses and a mechanical engineer will be accompanying me tonight, Friday, April 26 to Nashville, TN to see none other than The Sword.

Four: Kona has sold out of the stupid mountain bike I had planned on buying myself. If any of you assholes have a 17″ Explosif for sale, get at me.

Happy birthday to me, fuck ii.

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You lazy motherfuckers!

I truly enjoy running, so much so that I can do it under any adverse climate conditions and still feel great. Of course with varying conditions come various obstacles. Another common obstacle we must all steer clear of whilst out and about enjoying nearly any activity is the inattentive driver. Some times they are humans operating motor vehicles while texting/talking on phones. paying more attention to their kids bickering in the back seat that what’s happening on the road in front of them or one of my personal favorites, and this is luckily only a cold weather issue; that lazy fuck that can’t take the time to scrape off their entire windshield!

This morning I was out trotting along in my favorite female yoga pants and bright yellow rain jacket; you can never be too safe. As I approached one of the many intersections I do along this running route, a car was also coming to a slow and easy hault at the stop sign. Being too comfortable in the moment I didn’t take the time to look up and make sure they saw me. Right about the point I was in the middle of the car they started to go… I don’t know what happened next as it was all a bit of a blur but I would have to assume it was something like me yelling “what the fuck!” and dancing like someone was shooting bullets at my feet, but the car quickly stopped before hitting me.

Upon regaining brain function I went to look at the drivers face only to realize I couldn’t see it… why you ask? They were driving their fucking car with a frost covered windshield, okay not “covered” as they had patiently taken the time to scrape of a section about the size of a legal pad directly in front of their face. Actually legal pad is probably a generous assertation on my behalf. Regardless, they immediatly drove off into the sunrise and I finished my run unscathed.

As I’ve made a point of so many fucking times I can’t even begin to remember, if you drive a car you have to respect the fact it can kill. Given people’s love for all things materially possessed these days I’m  amazed anyone would even take a chance to drive like that for fear of wrecking the stupid car in the first place. I don’t know the cirumstances under which this person was driving like that so who knows, but regardless of what they were, I can’t imagine it was any possible reason for putting not only my life in danger, but every other living

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This is an advertisement

I’m slightly amused that I stopped what I was doing to write this when I did. First, what I was doing. I work for a bike shop that I am incredibly proud of and loyal to and for a very long time I have felt they needed to promote themselves more. One form of promotion we are all too familiar with is the t-shirt. T-shirts are something out of towners stopping through can easily pick up and generally tend to do so and if there’s a more popular form of attire in the bike industry, I’d be damned if I knew what it was. Tonight somewhere between the full version and half empty one of my second glass of bourbon I started laying out a new shirt design for said shop, On Your Left Cycles.

Upon my second attempt at a layout, that goddamned CDC smoking commercial came on and made me want to cover this stupid computer in not only the bourbon I had to drink, but the burrito I had for dinner and even the peanut butter sandwich I had for lunch.

And here’s my point; I didn’t ask to see this commercial with Ms. Smookey McSokerson that has had her poor life ravaged by her past time of inhaling smoke. I have never smoked, I never will. Therefor I don’t need a damn commercial informing me of not only the dangers of smoking, but where to get information on where to quit the disgusting habit.

This is much like the fact of me trying to come up with a catchy t-shirt design to subject so many poor idiots to in their daily goings on that most likely have made it through their own miserable lives never knowing the joy of living around bicycles and actually having had a cigarette or 12. Here black lung demographic, look at my happy go-lucky awesome I love bicycles t-shirt, life is good, you don’t give a fuck. well, at least it’s not nauseating.

Oh, add to that, my youngest son was lucky enough to witness his first violent drug deal gone bad last night at of all places, Q’doba on Bardstown Road in the Highlands. That said, the crazy little fucker took it like a champ and just went about eating his quesadilla, unfazed. There’s something wrong with that kid.

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