Happy

I need to go there.

No one is impressed over here:

Neither Sonya or Rebecca is even paying attention to what appears to be a casual midday semi-mini-chub. Sue was taking the photo, so maybe she was looking. Probably not.

Maybe it's an old guy thing. I saw this on Fatty's blog the other day:

Apparently it's not the size that matters, it's the presentation. I gotta work on that.

Honestly I did not have a semi-mini-chub in that photo. It was just a wrinkle in my shorts. I can't say the same for Elden. He just loves mini-vans that much.

It's my birthday today. I know this because I logged into facebook already this morning. I am 42 years old, which makes me twice as old as Missouri Miller and half as old as Gunnar Shogren. Speaking of old man Gunnar, if anyone has the movie Scars Don't Sweat, (Gunnar is facing the end of his racing career, and more importantly, the end of a way of life... attempts to capture this emotional struggle of a professional athlete facing the end of his career) please let me borrow it. I need to learn how to "retire" like a pro now that I am six years older than he was when they made the movie in 1998 (do the math). I looked for it on Netflix, but this was the closest thing available.

I'm sure it's pretty similar.

42 year old status report:

I shaved my head last week. I felt like my hair and I were in one of those relationships where we both knew it was over, but I wanted to be the one who ended it first.

I have a large bruise on the back of my right calf where the Superbeast landed on top of me after I wrecked on a rock that has always been in the trail, but my Alzheimer's addled brain had forgot about it.

The callous on the ball of my left foot is currently in the middle of it's annual summer heat split down to the red meat. I love summer.

After almost six weeks away from beer it only takes a few Torpedoes to sink this ship.

I'm going cane shopping this weekend.

I can't badmouth Gunnar anymore (today). I mean, the guy has been nominated for the Mountain Bike Hall of Fame. Go vote for him and complete his legacy. There was never a stronger mullet in the dirt peleton.

Somebody said that already?

Whatever.

Make this old guy's day by voting an even older guy into the MBHoF. Maybe someday it will be my turn (doubtful).

To celebrate my birthday I am going to work, covering for my boss while he goes off to watch motorized two-wheeled devices go BRAAAPP!!, and then I will come home, eat, bleed my brakes, and sleep.

Just what I wanted.

Happy Hopping Penis Day.