Slammer 2010: If Only I Had a Lucky Chamois

I threw away my lucky underwear the other day. They were worn out. I mean, they weren't out of luck - just a bit threadbare. There might have been a little hole. Or maybe two. But they were still lucky.

It took exactly one day to regret throwing out the lucky underwear. The dinner I ate Saturday just didn't agree with me. Made my gut pretty much blew up. I may as well have pitched a tent in the bathroom.

That kind of crap just doesn't happen when you are rocking your lucky underwear.

Yeah, I was feeling stellar for my bike race Sunday. I only had to visit the porta potty twice before the start. It was the first time I ever carried toilet paper in my jersey pocket.

The race is called the slammer. I have raced in it maybe the last six years. This was the first year that I figured out that maybe its called the slammer because you race past the prison like 4 times. I'm not the quickest.

I started at the front but quickly moved to the back, because, you know, it would be easier to peel off from there if I had to go. About a mile in I started looking for good places on the side of the road. About 10 miles in I checked my jersey pocket to see if my toilet paper was still there.

That was about the time Matt Woodruff rolled off the front. I don’t really think it was an attack, I think everyone just watched him ride away. Yeah, well, that turned out to be a mistake – but I had bigger problems to worry about.

There are a lot of houses on Cloverdale. It’s a good thing that the 10 or so TUMS that I downed before the start seemed to be working a bit.

About 20 miles in I am thinking that I made one lap, maybe I can make another. I mean, I already outlasted Cody Caldera who seemed to abandon when he saw some friends on the side of the road. Then my stomach gurgled I think I may have passed gas. It’s ok, I was at the back remember.

Sorry wheel car guy.

So I am pretty sure it was a dry one, because it still felt pretty normal down there. I know a guy who told me a story about having a little accident on his chamois during a race once. I am pretty sure it must be true – why would you make that up? Come to think of it, it is the same guy that sells used shorts on eBay.

40 miles in. I think that the gels I had been downing must be holding my stomach contents together in a little Gu ball of hate. I could feel it being angry in there. The good news was that it was content being angry in there and didn’t need to be angry somewhere else.

That Woodruff guy was still out there. You have to be crazy or good to pull that off. Or maybe both. Kurt Holzer was turning himself inside out chasing. I was just busy trying to keep my insides in. Chris Berry worked a lot too. The last few laps Kristo Jorgenson and Angelo Roman did too.

I accidentally took a pull once, except no one was getting pulled. So I am riding along thinking it would be nice if someone pulled through and I look back and no one is there. Nice. Whine, whine, whine about no one working then let me just noodle away off the front. It isn’t like I was going fast or anything – I mean I have got a little Gu ball of hate in my gut. Seriously, I am not fast without a stomach ball of hate – but with one? Ridiculous.

About mile 50 I started to think I might hang on. About mile 59 I am pretty sure I can. At one km to go I am almost positive I can finish the race without stopping for a grunter.

So yeah, that’s how it went down. Here is what I learned...

Matt Woodruff can apparently ride by himself pretty quickly for a long damn time. Jake Turner had shiny legs. Derek Brown has a tattoo on his calf and I still don’t know what it is. You look slimmer if you wear cycling clothes in a bigger size because it negates that ‘tube of biscuits’ look. And one of those Broken Spoke guys needs a pair of bibs or a bigger jersey because his back was sticking out the entire race and it was kind of pasty. Can you tell I spent the whole day in back?

I have got to go find some new lucky underwear.

Number 3

So my GPS, Rico, started working again the other day.

It seems that I may have been a bit premature in declaring the electronics rapture. It was more like an electronics sabbatical.

Speaking of coming back to life I saw Dale Earnhardt on my way home yesterday…

So there I was,

(you have to start all stories with ‘so there I was’ – in case you didn’t know)

So yeah, there I was, rolling home down Chinden through GC. Just me and Hitler. I see the number 3 Monte Carlo in front of me. Whoa, its not every day you see Dale Earnhardt. He was rocking Elmore County plates.

That answers that question.

You know, the one about where you go if weren’t such a good person in life.
Not to pass judgment on Dale Earnhardt mind you, but I just can’t imagine that Mountain Home is in heaven. Or Glenns Ferry for that matter.

Anyhow, I know I have to get a picture or no one will believe me. So I look to make a move to the outside – there’s no room, but I did notice that he has been “rubb’n” some other cars on that side. I’m not surprised, because, you know, if you ain’t rubb’n you ain’t rac’n.

After looking outside I go inside. I learned that from Cole Trickle in "Days of Thunder". Not to be confused with the real car racer Dick Trickle.

Or actually maybe it was Ricky Bobby in "Talledega Nights". Yeah, I think it was Ricky Bobby.

There I am inside and I pull up alongside to take pictures. I’m a little nervous you know – because he is The Intimidator. So here it is. I know the picture sucks but it’s hard to take pictures when you are racing.





Nice. And I thought the ‘rest in peace #3’ stickers were too much.

Electronic Jesus

About a week ago I was doing some laundry and kept hearing a thudding sound from the dryer. It thudded for like 10 minutes before I decided it wasn’t really thuderific and was more or less annoying. So I roll over to the dryer for a look-see.

The first thing I saw were the headphones from my iPod snaking around in my clothes. Uh-oh. This won’t be good. In fact, this may be significantly below average. Indeed, it may even be the day the music died.

So I leisurely rifle my way through my warm and fresh smelling underwear, socks, hoodies, and levis. Whoop, there it is. My old school 30g video iPod.

That stuff under the screen that looks like water is probably a bad sign.

I know from past experience with cell phones that trying to turn wet electronics on is probably a bad option. Nonetheless, I really want to try it. I mean really. Somehow I resist my urge to push the button and instead beat my head against the wall.

While I am beating my head against the wall my wife does some internet research and concludes that the thing to do is jamb it in a container of rice. The iPod, not my head. So I jamb it in a container of rice.

I didn’t push the button for a whole week. That’s pretty good for me, I mean, self restraint isn’t one of my strong points.

So after a week I collapse and push the button. Holy rapture! It’s like an electronic Jesus back from the dead! Emerging from its rice cave in a new glory – because, you know, an iPod is cool, but an iPod back from death? Well that’s hors categorie cool.

All the potty words were even removed from my music!

Well, actually, no. No, I made that part up. The potty words remained intact. All of them. Which really is pretty remarkable.

So yeah, that rocked. I basked in the glory for an entire night. The reality of the rapture struck the next day when I went for a bike ride. I saddled up and turned on the Garmin. Then I turned on the Garmin. One more time I turned on the Garmin. Son of a bitch. Apparently its little electronic gps soul got sucked up when my iPod (elmPod) came back.

At least the Garmin is still under warranty. I hope the warranty covers electronic rapture.

Trigonometry

So I rode my bike 4 hours in the rain on last Saturday. That's all I have to say about that, because I know no one cares. If you do, here are the details...

I got wet.

A little later Saturday, on my way to parent exploitation day at the fairgrounds (kids fair), I saw this dude.



I know its not a good picture, but give me a break, its hard to drive and take pictures at the same time. I labeled it to assist you.

I gotta say, I was perplexed. I mean, you know what I think about baggies over tights, right? Yeah well, this dude is the cosine of baggies over tights - somehow he managed tights over baggies.

Not just any tights, mind you. Yeah this guy is going all out by rocking the always dangerous gray tights. Inconceivable. Note, he is also styling the always attractive camelsback while riding his road bike - again quite edgy.

So I imagine he is getting dressed for his ride and he is thinking - 'it's a little cold out there today, I better cover up my sticks'. But then he thinks, 'but if I wear baggies no one will be able to see my sweet butt rocking in these stylish gray shorts'. Then light bulb! 'I know, I will rock them both. I know it's bad to wear baggies over tights, but...'

Yeah so he gets dressed and rolls down to McD's. An always popular roadie destination.

Yes. He stopped there. Locked his bike to a light pole. Then the light changed, I had to go be exploited.

Sassafras and Other Crap

Saw this in the paper last week…



Yeah, I know. I thought the same thing. Little effer.

Note, out of respect to his cause I used a politically correct version of the swear word – because, you know, I am politically correct as hell.

Yup, there I am, busy not swearing, when a friend sends me this…



WTF? I mean sassafras, I meant to say sassafras. That’s what the kid wants me to say instead of potty words. Sassafras. I am all about sassafras, let me tell you.

Gossshhhh, what the heck is that thing? Look at me, I’m Napoleon Dynamite.

Is that a three legged chicken? Or is it a cow giving birth? I saw that once, a cow giving birth, it was pretty similar to that picture. Is it a beaver? I especially like that pointy beak, and the erotic white eye. That’s an eye right? I don't even want to know what happens if you pull that handle.

The subject of the email was something like ‘So much of a fail, it’s a success’. And how! That’s some scary sassafras there boy. Not seeing any geese in the background of that one, eh?

What I am seeing in the background is a giant BSU sign that says ‘Excellence’. Yeah, I would say something about that – but that may break my resolution for this year. You remember, something about me not to be a BSU hater? Yeah, I won’t even imply anything. Yup, go Broncos – that’s me.

Good times.

I Don't Hang Out at Coffee Shops Either

Somebody told me once that beauty is only skin deep.

I’m just saying.

Speaking of things that are ugly on the inside I took my son to McDonalds the other day.

Yes. Sometimes I go to McDonalds. And that’s ok.

(Sometimes I enjoy watching TV. That’s ok too. Sometimes I buy stuff at WalMart. Yes, that’s ok as well. I don’t like the Toyota Prius, I didn’t even like it before they started having problems stopping. Oh yeah, and that’s ok. Not liking Toyota Prius is ok. I also don’t like the city bus, in fact I dislike them. They get in the way when I am driving with Hitler, and they somehow sneak up behind me when I am on my bike. I don’t really like Jack Johnson, but I do like Rob Zombie. And that’s ok. I don’t hate Marilyn Manson either. I’m not sure if that is ok or not.
Now that I have made myself a social leper, I may as well admit that I don’t belong to the Co-Op. I do have an REI membership however. And that’s ok. The only thing I like about WinCo is their pizza. And that’s ok. Finally, I don’t like to spend my free time drinking beer at the Bitter Creek Ale House, or the Table Rock Brew Pub. And that’s ok.)

So anyway, I am rocking through the McD’s drive-through and I notice the guy in front of us is paying with change he is digging out of the cup holder, and the cracks in his seat. That’s a little annoying, you know, because it takes for freaking ever. Mix in some plastic bro – my son wants his freaking happy meal.

About the time I am thinking that I would pay for his food if he just got the hell out of the way I notice that the dude is wearing a surgical glove. Not two gloves mind you, just one. I’m thinking, well yeah, those cup holders can get pretty grungy. But I think this guy is afraid of actual physical contact with the McD’s employee.

Dude slips the glove off after payment, but I notice is extremely careful not to make contact when he receives his food bag. Whoa, you don’t see that very often. Weird. I think I would be more concerned about what is going on inside, than, you know, the drive through attendants hands.

But that’s just me.

Eff

In my sons 1st grade class there is an assignment where each kid was assigned a letter of the alphabet and the kid needs to write a few sentences using a bunch of words that start with the letter they were assigned. Why did my son get assigned F?

Speaking of eff, I have been running on the treadmill a bit lately. I actually like running on a treadmill because it gives me a little more control of the suckitude.

No, that’s not right. It actually takes away the suckitude control from me and gives it to the machine. And that is what I like.

See, on the treadmill I can pick my level of suckitude and it holds me to it. The dirty bitch. So yeah, there I am running along thinking it sucks. Over time it feels like it sucks more. After a while it feels like I must be at level suckitude +1, or maybe even suckitude+2 – but really I am still just running at the original level of suckitude. If I were running outside or riding my bike I might accidentally slow down to maintain the original level of perceived suckitude, thereby robbing myself of the level of actual suckitude that I want to maintain. On the treadmill though, I am forced to maintain the same level of suckitude. Get it?

Yeah, I know, it’s effed up. I guess what I mean is that if I slow down on the treadmill I will crash. Crashing on a treadmill would suck. Especially in public.

At least my son didn’t get assigned the letter s. That would have sucked. Literally. At least once. I would have sucked. Which I guess in first grade is probably better than the f word alternative. Oh man, I need some help.

The bike riding equivalent of the treadmill would be like if your wheels popped off if you dropped below a certain speed. Talk about suckitude.

I think it will be ok. My sons eff paragraph I mean. He does have a way with words. He made this for a girl at Valentines Day...



Yes, he does have a bit of swagger for a 6 year old.

Usually when I say 'I don't know where he gets it' I'm lying. I have an idea where he might have gotten it, but this time, this time honestly - I don't know where he gets it.