Lemme kick a little sumpin' to the Gs

Got some bumper stickers late night web surfing! How fucking awesome are these?

Even with the prominent bike rack, I am not quite sure that the Scion properly emotes my cycling prowess. Nothing says, "I'm kicking your ass at this race" like an auto decked out in sport-specific bumper stickers.

Copy my ass and you'll pay the price. Bitches.

Rad iTunes Playlist

I enjoy spinning down Sheridan Road rocking to music on my 8GB video iPod as much as the next lycra-clad dude. But I just hooked up a playlist that will literally strangle and subsequently dismember any other playlist out there. It kicks it up that hard. I just feel totally alive and fucking bad ass when it's blasting in my ear buds.


So I thought I'd share! If you plan on replicating its hot-ness, I highly recommend paying strict attention to the song order. These songs were not just thrown in there from across the room, and these tunes are not shuffled. For shame! There is an important ebb and flow to the music as it tells its story.

Check it:



Here I Go Again, Whitesnake
Fucking Hostile, Pantera
Comin' Atcha, Tesla
Cannibal, Ministry
Bad Attitude, Cinderella
Helmet in the Bush, Korn
All 4 U, Warrant
Cake and Sodomy, Marilyn Manson
T.N.T, ACDC
Chains of Misery, Iron Maiden
Killer is Me, Alice in Chains
More Than Words, Extreme
I Wanna Fuck Myself, Faith No More
Hook in Mouth, Megadeath
Speedfreak, Motorhead
Every Rose Has A Thorn, Poison




Well I'm a mean machine, I'm the kind you don't wanna meet
My middle name is trouble, I'm a danger in the street
My motor's in overdrive, my pedal's to the floor
I never get enough, I'm always comin' back for more


For real, right? That is honestly how I roll...

O'Grady knows what's up!

I think that little rodent copied off of me, but Stuart is down with the squovalness. Maximize efficiency while keeping the weight light as a feather!

That technology is exactly why I've been practicing some hands-free victory salutes. I'm gonna be needing the sweet moves soon.

Reminds me of me

A lot of people say that I remind them of a certain recent P-R winner. In appearance, style and race technique, mostly.

Can't say that I disagree.

Question for SRAM

What ever happened to half-pipe shifters, yo?

Supplementation

With the epidemic of toxic processed foods, it is a no-brainer that I adhere to a strict organic diet. The American diet is going down the shitter. Processed meat causes pancreatic cancer, butter flavoring causes lung cancer, and acrylamides cause all the evil in the world. Shit, some Mexican study just showed that if you eat 8 lbs of refined white flour a day, your risk of breast cancer increases. What is this world coming to?

Personally, I know what my body needs. It calls for vitamin supplementation.

For those of you trying to figure out what the long-kept secret is to this stunning physique, here's a list of what I currently take:


* Optimum Nutrition NitroCore 24 (Ultimate Chocolate)
* Optimum Nutrition Casein Protein
* Pro Performance Amplified Creatine
* Muscle Asylum Fat-Incinerating Serum
* Pro Performance Cut and Burn Physique Program
* Health Plus Super Colon Cleanse
* Natural Biotic Super Probiotic with Bifidobacterium
* Ginkgo Biloba
* Grape Seed Extract
* Milk Thistle
* Maximum Greens Complete
* Acai Natural Energy Boost
* Organic Super Noni
* Fish Oil chewable tablets
* Red Yeast Rice
* Shark Cartilage
* Glucosamine & Chondroitin

I must say I left one influential vitamin out, so that my routine could not be completely mimicked. Also purposefully omitted was the tedious race-morning supplementals, which are aimed more toward ass-kicking and less toward all-out longevity.


Take that bitches!

Super Dooper Piece of Crap

Yes, it is important and no, it wasn't clean and yes, I called.

And I'm not going to get into it right now. I'm pissed and exhausted and after kicking the shit out of a particular unnamed piece of furniture in the pad, I decided it's just not worth it. I didn't race... again.

I got a flat.

No dumb shit, not on the bike. On the fucking car. And it just screwed up everything and the closest I got was the fucking Hardees / Love's and Jack's Tire Repair.

But fuck it.

Worst Consin

Such fucking bullshit.

So I load up the Scion, crank up the Pantara and set the ETA to 9am. Enough time to hit registration, check out the competition, oil up my legs and still put a hurtin' on both Masters Races. But shit just ain't right from the get-go. My sugar-free no-whip honey latte spilled all over my lap, I missed the exit first time 'round, and the joint looked dead. No clip-clop of shoes, no parking lot full of bike racks, no sea of colorful lycra, no neon cones or overweight officials.

After a lot of dicking around, I learn from Randall at Randall's Frozen Custard that the whole shootin' match got cancelled. Fo shiz, asses? I tell Randall to get his head out of the freezer and proceed to make some huffy phone calls and finally get in contact with some asshole from Team Polska, who says, yea, dick nut, the race is off due to excessive snow and ice on the course.

Well, I was on the M F-ing course and I see 50 degrees and a whole lot of sun. Dude says, well, I really apologize, but we did all we could to... I hung up at that point because the dude was obviously a loser. I head back to Randall's Frozen Custard and ask where I can find a good group ride. Or a unsanctioned race? Randall tells me about the beauty of the Sheboygan marina and the National Parks I should see as long as I was there.

But who gives a fuck about Kohler National Park? I was there to drink Powerade and kick ass. And I was running low on Powerade.

Anyway, it was all bloody, dirty, asshole bullshit. I was totally looking forward to my first WCA points of the year and my free spaghetti meal.

Fon du Lac and Osh Kosh Cycleries, Team Polska, Xcel Training and Cannondale can all suck the big one.

Speed Racer

So I was recounting this afternoon's events to the dudes at the GNC and everyone was like, " Your stories are always amazing! You should have a blog!" And I was like, YO, I know and ... hells bells I already do!! Due to popular demand, this yarn has gots to be spun online, beyotch!

After updating my myspace and taking a client to Rainforest Cafe, I took a half day from work for some interval training to tune up my aerobic system before this weekend's races. So I found a sweet little motley street with a bit of a hill and was kicking angry-ass interval-style. I just knew I was rocking pretty fast. But when the 5-0 pulled up with lights a-blazing, I was looking around to see who he was pulling over. After a little uncomfortable interaction where I said a few things I shouldn't have, I realized he was after ME. Shit, I was going so fast I got a SPEEDING TICKET ! No joke!

I didn't mean it when I called him a cock sucker, but the testosterone was a-flowin' and I wasn't really prepared to clip out, bring my heart rate down and have a chat with the po-po. Apparently there was a 25mph speed limit and I was, of course, exceeding it. So I switched gears emotionally, gingerly approached Officer Dangle, and he started grabbing lycra ! Apparently I had the right to remain silent and the right to an attorney and I was completely stunned! But being a good salesman, I realized that all was not lost. This little piggie was in the palm of my bike-gloved hand. I apologized and started to lay it on thick. Turns out Dangle is in training for his first triathalon this summer! So we talked training and basic physiology and the whole sha-bang ended with us shaking hands, exchanging cell phone numbers and coordinating a ride for next weekend.

Of course, I was advised to slow it down. As if that's even possible, peeps!

Second place is first loser

After a few busy days of kicking ass at work ( 4 new accounts! ), on the road ( pedals to the metal beoyotch! ), and executing elaborate April Fool's pranks ( a "For Sale by Owner" sign in my buddy's front yard! ), I return.

It's absolute and total bullshit that I couldn't sign up for that race, and there were 14 totally perfect good spots wasted on DNF assholes. I could have shown all those butt rags how a real cyclist sprints to the finish. Cobblestones? Hills? Oh please. Save me from all the whining. I would have left that pack in my musky dust.

Honestly, who would enter that race and just decide after a little breezy lap around a flat po-dunk town to just stop and head to the Hardy's instead? Lame-os, that's who.

I am genetically engineered to finish these Crits. It's totally apparent in the few I've done. I mean, I love 'em! Oh, you'll see soon enough. Dark streak of lightning in a hot kit passing your ass at the finish?

Yea, that's me.

So who's getting second?