Fists of McFlurry

Anger and hate fuel my McFlurry, and the chocolate sprinkled hot fudge gloves need to come off. All this talk about me training while saying I'm not training in order to train in secret and possibly sandbag at a minor event in the near future... some say it's a ruse sorta like when Lance was playing possum at the 2001 Tour de France. Maybe I'm just saying that I'm not training, but really I'm double secret training. I assure you that is not the case. Of course if that were the case that is exactly what you would expect me to say, so I'm afraid I might have validated your opinion by denying said allegations. Whatever, the proof will be in the McFlurry style pudding.

Maybe it's all because I've been talking about a "secret project". Word has been getting back to me that news of my secret plan is slowly getting out. My secret will not remain a secret much longer since I have a few people in the mix helping me pull this off. If just one of them tells two friends, and then they tell two friends, and then they tell two friends...

and so on, and so on, and so on

There's only so much I can reveal at this point and so much I can deny. Let me dispel (or not) some of the rumors.

I can not confirm or deny that:

I may or may not be training, but I may not be not training either.

This project may or may not involve a new bike.

The new bike which I may or may not be getting may or may not have gears.

The new bike which I may or may not be getting may and may not have gears may or may not have more suspension than Riccardo Ricco and his girlfriend.

The new project may or may not piss a few people off more than an odd comment from Pat Robertson concerning the Haiti tragedy.

Jeff Schalk may or may not be reading this and worrying about his 2011 NUE podium.

The new project may or may not include a phallic representation of a dark lord's genitals.

This project may or may not jeopardize 90% of my sponsorships and see my department in Dirt Rag burned to the ground.

I may or may not have sold one testicle to science in order to finance this project.

This project will make me more attractive to women (caution: keep your wives at home as we're talking Harpy level attraction here). Swooning will be unavoidable.

In short, I'm doing what I want to do and have wanted to do for some time. While it may not be a popular decision, it is mine to make. I am getting too old to not do something drastic and hot air balloons don't fly themselves... or maybe they sorta do, but that really seems irrelevant since this has nothing to do with hot air balloons.

Cue the angry music...

I've got a fuck off attitude, and that's something that should be kept in a fucked up world.







BTW: The Presbyterian Criterium is this Saturday in Charlotte. If you've got VIP tickets you want to get rid of let me know. Otherwise I'll have to buy my own beer which means the $14.95 I got for selling my testicle will be spent sooner than expected. If you're gonna be there... I'll be there too, and we can laugh at the roadies and see if we can spot Liz Hatch together.

This just in...
A BMX Stunt Show before the crit? An all day affair? Can I afford another testicle's worth of beer?