Shout OUT to the outest of OUTS, which are:
Constantine Boyko
Peter L'Abbe
and Jef Hoskins....
your voices will echo thru Eternity, brothers!!
Ok...FaceBook, here we go!
The guy that ran around BART naked and was bat-shit crazy..
FUCK HIM. Lock that dumb cunt up and throw away the key.
Fucking weirdo burning Man faggot.
So I was thinkin' aout the gum stuck under bars, the gum spat onto sidewalks..ejaculated out of a human mouth. And we live here, and love here..surrounded by verticality and horizontal FUCK YOU. Laugh, love and work you fucking ANTS. How I love seeing your antennaes tremble as you discover the next PHOTO OP..I mean, you are SO FUCKING IMPORTANT..Let's cut to the chase: YOU aRE ALL SCHEDULED FOR EVICTION, from these mortal premises. Ok, hang on, I might need another shot/beer...

Drinking Absinthe and lissening to AFI (Let It Be Broke) ...
This changes all that I thought before. I've drank poison, and accepted it's advice. Oh, I guess it's MONDAY and the people that are not independently wealthy are actually working. So, I woke up in a hood, and the first rock was thrown.

The sound of your derailleurs clicking thru gears is the sound of you clicking thru yr social cliques...trying to find your home, even though you are forever homeless. Having fun in the sun is your modus operandi, but you are hopelessly outmoded. Have some brains: sun=cancer.
Oh, I forgot that I am surrounded by a thousand finger-fucking forgets (that's my new code for queers) that need to endlessly and relentlessly posit their every fucking queef for all to see. HEY!! Can I reiterate?! WE DON'T WANT TO SEE pics of your children/dogs/dinner/breakfast..or that amazing view you gained after climbing for two hours. CALM DOWN. You are too fucking positive. Sharing is NOT caring. Bicycle people are the worst. As I lay in bed, immobilized by LIFE/depression/exhaustion..my newsfeed is being cumshotted and inundated by a hundred quasi-happy velocipedeans that racked up a thousand miles on their bike comps, and feel the need to share every pedal rev...with us...
Ok, ok...shout your accomplishments from Facebooks' rooftop...but some of us have to turn away, and let those cum-blasts hit the wall...
But, that being said, I love my bikey peeps and the miles they put towards obsolescence.
I AM YOU.
♥

@ the BaconBacon grease fire debacle: 
Kevin DeMattia What if the owners were trapped inside, and burned alive, and a horde of wild hogs came across the charred carnage and ate to their hearts' content. How IRONIC! Just kidding, calm down ya bacon lovahs...<3 span="span">

FUCK THANKSGIVING

Fuck Thanksgiving. Yeah, awesome: sit around and get fatter and drunker, eat dead animals and enjoy yr social circle jerk.
Lemmings.
Wow, and I'm not even drunk.

Ok, off to a slow start... I'm s'pose to be ranting but tonight I'm feelin' more contemplative..
So as most of you who don't live in Afghanistan know:  I just put a ring on a finger.  Felt so right. Known this gal since August of 2009.  First time I met her (at Bender's Bar) I had a Brooks saddle (leather bicycle saddle) in my back pocket. I was wearing a shirt that said: "Overworked and Underfucked." ...and we talked. I was intrigued. And the second time she came in to the bar, looked at me, and ordered a drink....I was fucking hooked. Line and sinker.  Never another that came close. Sparkling eyes, dimples, astounding wit....And for 3 years I've been adoring this amazing person, and am so happy to say that I can now call her my fiance.

If taints could talk, ears would be bleeding

Sooooo....had a dentist's app't yesterday: had two fillings replaced. One hours' time and me $330 poorer!

I did my first "Butter Lap" today; the Butter Lap is a circuitous bike ride o'er hill and dale, following a counter-clockwise pattern around the northern part of the City. I started at the Ferry building on the Embarcadero, whistling happily, and blithely unaware of the horrors that awaited me. The first inkling of doubt lent a gentle furrow to brow as the headwind gently slowed my roll. Past countless tourists either waddling along or wobbling back and forth on their rented clunkers. Past Aquatic Park and those brave fools splashing along in the Bay sans wetsuits, up and over Fort Mason and down to Marina Blvd. Aeolus whistled merrily as I wove thru packs of sightseers. Past Fort Point was my first of several navigational catastrophies. I ground painfully up a short, nearly (seemingly) vertical mountain (medium-sized hill). I made a left when I should've gone right, continued on, and almost got lost in the Presidio.

Called on some friends in my time of need... only half of them didn't answer their phones and the half that answered had never done the Butter Lap, so directions were vague and confusing at best. So, after circling the general area, cursing loudly enough to startle several passerby and rueing my utter lack of direction, I half-heartedly headed towards the parking lot/tourist area of the Golden Gate Bridge, having to again grind up the seemingly vertical mountain/hill...then past the parking lot/tourist area.. (mistake!) This wrong turn had me on a dirt path with a sheer precipice to my right. More cursing, phone calls and a few choice gestures aimed at the heavens and I finally found Lincoln Blvd. Some climbing, some great views (see picture to left) then a monstrous descent, which had me jealous of roadies' optional coasting capabilities! Spinning like I was going for the gold at Goldsprints I swept down and down, then it was a gentle climb to the land of the uber-rich: SeaCliff. Another left and I was headed to the Legion of Honor, and a climb that had me praying for gears or a motor. A roadie and I had a short conversation on the way up the hill, me grunting my responses as he looked on with a bemused look. He gave me grudging respect for doing the ride fixed; I bade him adieu as I started slowly sidewinding my way to the summit. A pic of my bike next to the fountain and a quick chug of coffee later, I was speeding off down to 34th Ave, Clement and Seal Rock Drive, then rollercoasting further to El Camino Del Mar and Pt. Lobos to the Great Highway. It felt good to blast by tourists in those little yellow racing-striped go-carts, gray skies and greenish ocean churning away to my right.. Down the Great Highway for a stretch, then a left on Martin Luther King, Jr. Blvd and a pit stop at a gas station for a Snickers and more caffeine. Then the best part of the ride: smooth sailing along JFK thru Golden Gate Park.

The Zoo (depressing/desolate), waterfall, meadows, etc. Accosted a couple on a Segway so I could get another photo to send my beleaguered girlfriend.

Out of the park and blasted down Oak, ran into my buddy Andy French who had just taken a nasty spill on Sloat..he'd rodeoed over his bars and scraped the shit out of his knee. We rode for a bit, then parted ways as I headed for Zeitgeist. Said hi to the bar-flies, then snuck out and back to the TL for some Chinese food lunch.

Oh yeah, on the left:

-my GPS (directions scrawled on a scrap of paper and taped to the top tube)

-Water you say? Ha! Hydration is for fools! Diuretics; it ain't just a book by L Ron Hubbard.

Oof. That was really bad.

-and lastly, my custom pump-holder:

packing-taped to the downtube. TL-style, what!

-- and (not shown) my teal fanny pack.

Next review: the Paradise Loooop.