carbon fiber penis extensions

How many times have you been riding and thought "Damn it! If only these fuckin' levers could be lighter AND less durable!" Well, I was cruising through the Interbike pics at cyclingnews.com and it looks like your prayers have been answered.

Don't forget to flip the collar up on your shirt.


24th Adult...1st Moonfaced Retard

Well, I've had about enough duathlonin' to do me for...oh...ever. The Doubleshot Duathlon was a really cool event. I'm not a runner by any means but thought that I might be able to make up for it slightly on the bike. Not so much. The first two mile run wasn't bad. I sort of let everyone go at the first because I didn't want to get in the way of the "serious" folk. That was a good plan because those cats were movin' on. The course immediately went up Lipbuster. Not fun but a nice way to thin the pack. I gladly let the ambitious little fellas go ahead. After that I think I passed most of 'em back as soon as we got to the rockier parts of the trail. Maybe it was because their walkers and oxygen bottles got hung up on the trees but I'm takin' what I can get damn it. For a non-runner my first run was going surprisingly ok but I was having a severe case of bitch bladder. Finally I could stand it no more so I stop to pee....nothin'. Total stage fright. I've got the same issue in public restrooms. You're standing at the urinal when some dude walks up and wants to chat. I don't like to talk with another dude while we've both got our cranks in our hand. There's just something wrong with that and, the more a motherfucker talks the harder it is for me to start a stream. Anyway, I've got the same thing going on here in the middle of this damn run. I finally take care of bidness and and am my way. Get back to the transition, take my sweet ass time changing shoes, and then take off on the bike. Looking forward to gettin' a spin goin to blow all that "running" bullshit outa the legs. Guess what? We're going back up Lipbuster...back to the anklebone express. Just like before but now I'm carrying a bike. Glad I chose the singlespeed. It's light. By the time I finally get to pedaling my calves want to go home, and they do. I can't even come close to any kind of "flow" ever on the bike. (btw: I realized last night that my front fork was locked out the whole time...reason 209 why I'll never be a "test" rider) As I'm struggling along Lo Chi I pass a dude with no Camelback who is in bad need of a drink so I stop and let him take a pull off mine. Thought he was gonna drain it. I take back off, ride like shit some more, and then take more of my sweet ass time changing shoes in the transition. By the time I get going on the 2nd run the dude that I gave a drink to catches me. Right before Lipbuster (yes the 3rd goddamn time up this bitch) I ditch the pathetic little jog and start walking. As the dude passes me he says "shoulda trained." Are you fucking kidding me? You're draggin' up the rear of this idiot parade just like me. Douchebag. I drug ass through the whole second run. I was ahead of my buddy Rion and figured I'd just be a punk and walk until I saw him catching, then run. Well, that didn't happen. Rion caught me and I just clapped as he jogged by like he could still go a few more miles. Way to go dude.

So that's it. I finished 24th out of 42 folks (half of which were wearing their underwear) with a time of 1:43. My buddy Rion beat me by over a minute. Our friend Ben, who is the real deal in this whole punishment game, finished about 1 minute behind me due to spending over 15 minutes on the side of the trail with a pinch flat and trouble with his mini-pump. We're not worthy Ben. All in all I'm glad I did it. It was a fun experience and the only regret I have is not getting in a fight with the shoulda-trained-douchebag. And to whoever that was, if you trained only to bring up the back of the pack with me....who sucks worse? Thanks to Ben and Rion for showing me how to get it done. Thanks to Kevin for showing up, taking this lovely picture of me (and to his lovely wife for her comments), and introducing me to some cool new friends. If there is another event like this I'll be there. .....drinking and cheering my friends on.

Training is for pros,


hookin' a brotha up

Evidently my continuous blasting of the family is starting to pay off. I've finally coerced my bro to take steps toward becoming a riding bro, that's right he's purchased his first mtn. bike.

Like alot of people out there I dig watching cyclists do shit that I'd never dream of; here's a couple of just such vids:
Cool teaser here:

More can be downloaded here and I highly recommend them:

And how about a good ol' crash video? Here ya go:

Check out the ghost rider action at 1:40 into the video. "Romaniac" digs it!

Tomorrow I get to watch Buddy run up & down hill & dale, should be a hoot 'cause with his personality he'll be givin' it 100 percentile 100 percent of the time.

Just give 'er Buddy!


if only they made percoset bubblegum

My lower back has been bothering me all week. It's nothing new. Occasionally it does this for a day, maybe two, then goes away. Standing up straight isn't uncomfortable, but the slightest bend forward sends a shot of pain, makes my knees buckle, and makes me whimper like a 12 year old getting touched by her uncle. For some reason this week it has grown increasingly worse. The one weekend I actually have something planned. So, I did what any other self respecting dude would do and signed up for this http://www.doubleshotduathlon.com/ this morning online. I'm stoked about it. I've spent the last 20 years racing motocross, cross-country, and a little TT with a motor underneath me but I have never done anything like this and have absolutely no idea what to expect. I have no expectations of doing well, just doing it for the experience. Have I been training? Hell no. Just my normal schedule of riding, trick-fuckin', and drinkin'. Should be interesting. If by some chance the chiropractor doesn't fix things this afternoon and this back thing doesn't go away then I guess I just donated 35 bucks. Hell, if you can spend it on a lap dance then you can spend it on some folks who are doing something really cool.

Go do something,


more pics of the home loop

As always the pics are a bit deceiving when it comes to showing elevation change. I didn't do a very good job on my shot of the bridge either. It appears to just be built for no reason but it actually allows you to ride over rocky creek. I put the arch in the bridge just to make it look fancy and nailed the shingles to it so it wouldn't be slicker than cum on a gold tooth. Works pretty good. I just built the berm a few weeks ago....right after I went down like an intern. It's starting to pack in and getting fun. I'll probably add a little more dirt at the beginning and the end to up the fun factor. So, there they are. A few pics of my private trails to prove they exist. I plan to do a lot of work on 'em in the coming months and will post when I do.

Go ride,


Proof Post #2

I live in rural Oklahoma. It is a 30 minute drive to our local trails for me. Continually driving to ride my bike seems a little strange so I made a trail loop on our property. I'm the only one who's ridden it and Kevin had begun to doubt their existence.....thus the post. Currently it only takes around 4 minutes and change to make a lap. I know, shorter than a pair of Gary Coleman's clamdiggers. Nonetheless, it really is a fun loop. It's fun in the sort of way that a backyard mini ramp is fun. You get in tune with every little detail of the trail and can experiment with different riding styles. I usually go out every other day and hit it as hard as I can for at least an hour. (Yeah Yeah. I hear all you "training" type folk out there. Look, I gots a fun family, a job, and normal life stuff. Every ride can't be an epic. I'm real happy for you, your training log, and your heartrate monitor.) When your tires are the ONLY ones riding a trail you really get an appreciation for just how long it takes them to get that 'buffed' feeling. I'm sure that I will continually add to this trail and, if the additions look cool, I'll throw 'em on here. ... ok...i'm having technical retardation with placing the pics where i want in the post so 2 will have to do it for this one....more to come.

Go ride,


Proof Post #1

Well, I hate to put anything on here in front of Kevin's excellent tale of doing something worthwhile but....life and shitty posts must continue on. I posted on here back in May raving about ordering a Gary Fisher Rig but never said anything about it once it arrived. Well, I received it near the end of May and my Slayer has seen the trail very little since then. In fact I only choose it for about 1 out of every 10 rides. The Rig is great! I really expected to swap the Reba for a rigid fork but so far I sort of dig it. This shot of my wife's Electra on "bike-wash-afternoon", with it in the background, is the only pic I currently have of it. Not that it's anything interesting. It looks like any other Rig with the exception of the sexy leopard seat. Just thought I should show some proof.

Go for a ride,



Heroes: Alphabetically speaking

Steve B.

Buddy B.
Eric & Dee Dee C.

Carla E.
Stuart E.
Scott H.
Tim H.
Richard L.

Mike M.
Aaron P.
David T.

Roger U.

Due to my fundraising in this years MS150 ride I will receive a “Heroes” jersey; but the people listed above are the heroes. Those are the people who gave to help find the cure for this tragic disease.

Thanks to all.

Also thanks to those listed below for putting forth you’re hard earned dollars to help make this a team event. Doug is the owner of Superior and Gale is our Medline rep. Gale donates the money that assures each person on the team gets a free jersey for riding on our team and Doug pays for pre-ride parties and also for all the amenities we have at the overnight stay at Camp Gruber.

Doug W.
Gale B.

Again, thanks to all.

Now on to the story:

The ride sucked.
You guys & gals donated a lot of money and will enjoy your donation more knowing that the MS150 turned into a sufferfest for me!!!

After a week of beautiful weather things turned ugly. Leading up to this weekend the weather had been high 70’s to low 80’s with light breezes and just gorgeous; this Saturdays high was 97° with 20-25 mph winds and gusts to 36!!! E-fucking-gads that’s atrocious. My day started off with the bonehead move of forgetting to slather on the sunscreen I’d begged the wife to put out for me the night before, which of course leads to some really weird sunburned wrists along with a striped head from helmet vents. (Yeah, that’s fucking sexy.)

Oh, it gets better.

The ride started out late of course and the first 30 miles most people were feeling froggy. I rode with David Griggs and his friend who is a marathoner; knowing deep down that I wouldn’t last long with these two I started looking for a big group to ride with that could break the wind once we got out onto the open plains. I hooked up with a group and had good luck for the first 30 miles; we had a good pace and it looked like I’d make it to camp in time to shower and watch the OU game @ 2:30. What I didn’t realize is that at the 30 mile mark this group had blown itself up. After waiting about 30 minutes I set out alone heading due east into the hardest flattest 30 miles I’ve ever ridden. The sun was pounding, the wind was fierce, the road was brand new chipped surface, (see rough with gobs of rolling resistance,) and it was fucking HOT! I stopped at each rest stop and reloaded my 20 oz. bottle of water and 16 oz. bottle of Gatorade only to empty them before each 10 mile rest stop.

Oh, it gets better.

At mile 58 a demon appeared at the end of my right big toe. I was already miserable and then this little bastard pain that can only be described as a razor blade being jammed into the end of my toe with each revolution of the pedal. I’ve never felt anything like it before. At the 60 mile lunch/rest stop I discarded the shoes and hung out in my socks giving the toe a break. After lunch I was feeling good again with no problems until mile 62 where the turkey sandwich was now a knot just at the base of my neck. I worked on keeping that jewel down while heading into the first hills of the day. It was still hot, windy, chipped road, but now hilly with a puking on the horizon. It was glorious; I trudged on and caught up with David and marathoner at the 70 mile rest stop. The group of resting riders giggling at me walking so tenderly since my demon had showed up at mile 68. Real funny bitches.

Oh, it gets better.

So now into the final 12 mile stretch with one two-mile climb lurking toward the end I set off. The toe’s rested, the lunch knot has subsided and the wind is behind Braggs Mountain and no longer bothering me. At mile 78 the toe demon came back with a vengeance so I decided to pull off the side of the road and rest. I rested.....forever; every sag wagon pulled up and asked if I wanted help; nope I’m waiting it out I replied at least a dozen times. (Like I said I rested for a looooonnggg time.) I’d taken my right shoe off as hurriedly as possible when I dismounted and sat in the shade pondering my possibilities; I finally decided that it’d be best if I took my right sock off and allowed the piggy’s a little more room. Good idea; bad result; I bent my knee, reached for the sock and BAM goes a cramp! I’ve got the four toughest miles ahead and I’ve got a kick-ass cramp? Fuck me! After about 15 minutes of hopping around and stretching I get it worked out a bit and decide it’s time to go; I mount up and ride alongside a guy who’s motivating me until he gets a cramp. (Evidently they’re contagious.) He pulls over and I continue on until with ½ mile of the big two mile climb left my one cramp multiplies somehow into four separate huge cramps. (One quad, two hammies, and one calf.) I jump off the Bianchi like its hot molten lava and dance around on my painful toes trying to get the legs working. After about twenty minutes of trying to soothe the legs it’s evident that they don’t wanna go anymore; so I take the walk of shame to a SAG wagon. (SAG drivers should do like grand tour officials and rip your number off when you have to have help; I deserved the humiliation.)

Yep; I said it, I did it, and I ain’t proud. The cycling gods were on me:

SAG driver: “Want me to take you to camp?”
ME: Umm, hell no, just to the top; I’ll spend the night there and ride the rest in the morning if I have to.
SAG: I understand; what seems to be your problem.
ME: It’s my fucking toe; I don’t’ know what’s wrong with it but it's killing me.
SAG: What shoes are you wearing?

ME: Shimano
SAG: Oh, you gotta ditch those and buy you some sandals.
ME: Eat me, those are for queers.
SAG: I think it’s because you’re dehydrated.
ME: My toe hurts because I’m dehydrated?
SAG: Yeah man, weird huh?

ME: Yeah right, pull over and let me out now.

The legs never got better and they still hurt today (two days later), but I rode in. There were two more hills to climb which actually did me good and worked out some of the cramps; but I did notice one thing that I’ve never had happen before. While descending the backside of one of the climbs I noticed while coasting that my speed was dropping! That my friend is fucking windy! I normally descend like a freight train; gradually gaining momentum the entire decline, but not Saturday; the wind was angry that day I tell you.

Sadly, my pains pale in comparison. Saturday evening’s festivities were somber compared to previous years. At about mile 56 a 15 year old youth who was riding in his first MS150 was struck by a vehicle and killed. Details of exactly what happened are still sketchy; I hope all parties involved will remember why we were there and that accidents do happen. Hopefully not a single lawyer will make a dime off of this tragedy. Sorry to end this on a sad note but no matter what happened or happens this kid should be remembered for what he was doing; raising money for a fantastic charity.

Fittingly; Sundays return ride was cancelled due to foul weather.

Due to the nature of the last paragraph they’ll be no titties in this post.


Framed like Jerry Reed....

......and hung like Ron Jeremy. What is? My new wall art for ye olde office. That's what is. Cooler than the other side of your pillow, eh?

Listen to 'em,


like a kid in a fucking candy store

Turkey mountain is kinda freaky ya know; it's explained here:

Turkey Mountain, Tulsa Oklahoma

It’s not really a mountain, rising only a couple hundred feet off the west bank of the Arkansas River, but Turkey is an amazing urban wilderness area. With over 300 acres of mostly- singletrack trails, bluffs overlooking the river, and abundant wildlife, Turkey is an oasis for Tulsans needing to get away into the woods for a hike, to run, or mountain bike.

Taken from here:
http://www.doubleshotduathlon.com/ (An upcoming event for Buddy.)

Anyway it's only a 300 acre park that I've been riding in for four years now and yet somehow occasionally I find a new trail. Most of the new trails I've found are small feeder trails that take you to existing trails; however over the last couple of Friday rides I came across a few off-shoot trails (or so I thought) and ended up riding a beauty of a trail named "Lookout Loop". The damn things has signs and everything so how I've never come across it amazes me. Here's a pic:

That section of trail is all the way at the end of the trail; there is a cheater line you can see to the left that can be taken, but until I learn to ride across the rocks, and I will learn; I'll walk across 'em. The following pic is the continuation of the trail which is only about 50 more yards or so.
When you're riding Lookout Loop you can tell the trail doesn't get ridden as much as most of the other trails due to the jungle growth and surely that's just because most people don't know about it. But I'm here to spread the word.


And finally; more boobies!


Col Sanders is pissed

Yeah, much like Kevin posted a while back, I've been ridin' too. Ridin' quite a bit in fact. Just haven't got my dork on and blogged. Anyway, I went for a ride a couple of weeks ago and hit the ground pretty hard. I was rounding a corner that had a bit of a berm but not as much I hoped. My front wheel popped over it and, as I'm sure you all know, shit happens quick then. I never even knew I was crashing therefore unclipping wasn't in the flight plan. I think my head and my hip hit the ground at the same time. It rattled my squash pretty good and made me stumble around for a bit but I regrouped and was soon on my way. It took about a week for this nice bruise to pop up but it just keeps getting better. It swells, the swelling goes away, and then it swells again. Kinda strange. It's become a bit of a project for me to see how it develops every few days. Of course, that means annoying my lovely wife with "lookit-it-now" each time. She kept insisting I have it checked out. Finally I went to appease her. After a morning off work, a doctor's visit, and more than a few bucks for x-rays it was determined that..........it's a bruise. Yep. I knew that. She knew that. But guess what, I don't make her look anymore. Despite her wonderful rack....maybe I did marry her for her brains. I just have no idea why she agreed to it.

Everyone go ride something,


snot bubbles and 'tard drool

Deep down I don't consider myself to be a competitive person, but on occasion an opportunity arises that's just too hard to pass up. Take Saturday for instance. When rolling out at the start of the MS150 60 mile training ride everybody was grouped together, probably 100 riders strong, rolling at a casual 15-16 mph on flat terrain. After about mile three a group of maybe 20 riders rolls thru and the opportunity for a long paceline draft is too enticing to ignore so I tell the guy next to me that we need to be in that group. Click-click boom I'm on the tail end now and we're rolling at about 25mph; about 6 mph above my comfort level, but hey I've got a hell of a wind break so I'm feeling OK. At mile 5 or so we hit the first little climb and the line blows up like the leader dropped a turd grenade. After all the shenanigans and jockeying I'm now left with three chicks riding clunkers and me on my fancy carbon Bianchi. Surely I can hang is the motto I use to stay motivated; at mile 10 on the second of two killer rolling hills I ask the lead chick if she's trying to drop me; her reply: "We try to drop everybody". GULP; OK I'm in I tell her, go ahead and drop me. For the next ten miles we're riding a pace unlike any I've ever been a part of, my hearts pounding, my legs are screaming, my stomachs churning, sweat is pouring out of every pore of my body, I need to pee, I need to shit, I need to puke, I'm fucking hurting, but I stay quiet and let the power of the Ramones on the ipod keep me pumping. Finally the oasis of the 20 mile rest stop appeared and thankfully the 3 cycling dominatrix’s pull in; I definitely follow and damn near fall over once I stop 'cause my legs aren't working like they normally do. After fetching a cup of watered down Gatorade I catch my reflection in the storefront glass and notice I’ve got snot bubbles accumulated outside of my left nostril and drool hanging off my chin. I look like a ‘tard preparing to destroy my first funnel cake. Anyway, the lead chick comes over and tells me good job hangin' with 'em, I say thanks and ask what pace we rode at and she tells me the average was 23.1 mph. (I’ve abandoned using a cycling computer for now.) WOW, that is the fastest pace I've ever carried over that span and I'm feeling it. After a total of about two minutes at the rest stop they ask if I'm ready to roll? Fuck no I think but instead I politely decline telling them I need to wait on my buddy. Thank god there was somebody I needed to wait for otherwise I think I would have had a complete and udder meltdown on some back road in the next 40 miles.

Now before I start this next bit let me make this statement: I've always been a firm believer in the adage of "It's my soap and my dick and I'll wash it as fast as I want". Especially when it comes to singlespeeds; soooo....

Post 1 on what's wrong with the cycling community: (Click title to go to his site.)
Single Speeds ...Cool right? Well mostly. I have had a fixed gear since ’94 and it is a great bike that I ride all the time. So what is the problem you ask? Here we go. Don’t race a damn single speed! You are not cool, you don’t have “soul”, you are a tool. Why would you want to be under geared on the flats and downhill and over geared on almost every climb?

Just get some freaking gears! Want to impress anyone? Win a race with gears like the real fast people. Yeah I know Travis Brown wins ‘cross races on a single speed. Guess what? You are not Travis Brown. Travis gets the exemption not you. Also if you live where there are mountains don’t even ride a single speed off road. Next time I see one of you goons pushing your bike up a hill you are getting the double barrel snot rocket as I RIDE by your walking ass on my cross bike.

Blah, blah, fucking blah. Who does he think he is? The "Sultan of Cycling?" Nope, he's today's DICK NO. 1

These are cool:

Post 2 on what's wrong with the cycling community:
I don't care who's soap it is and who's dick it is, I bet these guys are dick lickers. Who the fuck do they think they are? Here's who they are; today's DICKS #2 & 3.

BTW, from now on I'm a Moots guy.

Congratulations boys!