"Zoinks Scoob. Someone's gonna have to blow the scary clown and it ain't gonna be you."
I'm not gonna make it unless I hire a private jet. Not enough time off work and competing agendas. I mean, if I had a private jet, I'd be at SSUSA up in Stowe Vermont with George, Mandy, Dough, Thom, Dejay, Montucky, Eddie, Namrita, Mudman, etc. Assholes. I got some serious first world problems. Just enough vacation time for Trans Sylvania Epic, a trip to Idaho, Breck Epic, and a short jaunt to Florida to get some early season diarrhea. Not enough to get to Vermont or to join my classmates to see who got fatter, balder, wealthier, and more successfuller.
That Club Pride stuff I was talking about?
Sure, I already have a fine selection of riding apparel from the folks at Twin Six. They've got the best cycling duds around, but sometimes I'm in the mood for something a little different. Enter Club Pride.
photo cred: Nik Fedele
Flamboyant casual sleeveless tops for the cyclist that needs to go straight from the ride to the parade.
Yeah it's made of cotton, and yeah Club Ride has already cornered the market on casual riding apparel, but this is casual with flair. No pockets, no zippers, no sleeves. All class and bedazzlement. I'm thinking if I can get these made out of a nice wicking fabric, I'd sell half dozens.
Speaking of fashion...
I saw this on facebook this morning:
Woody Harrelson reads Dirt Rag? One could only assume that Woody has read at least one, if not all of my articles. I'm a big fan of Woody, all the way back to his Woody Boyd days.
I wonder if I managed to mention him in my next article (which is still stuck in my head waiting for an epiphanous moment) would he possibly consider me for a bit part in the next Zombieland movie? I could play the role of Twinkie #3.
Something's on its way via FedEx today that will change things for me forever. Of course today would be the last day it could show up for me to get one ride on it before I box up my bike for the Breck Epic in a couple weeks.
Last night I had a dream. Peter came over to my house and started taking the Misfit diSSent Brontoawesomeous Meatplow V.5 apart and putting it in a box. Said he was taking it back. I was sad, but then a herd of otters came in the room and ate his feet. Then I was happy.
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MICKEY
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