On being a roadie scum bag

There are a few things you have too do.
1. shave your legs
2. drink beer
3. rip the legs of people going up hill

Dwain was right.

Monday is like Sunday when you don't go to work.

When I was a woodland creature.

I spent two and a half days sleeping in the woods, and eating nothing but keg beer. It was amazing. My plan on Friday after cashing my pay check was to promptly leave town, but where? I was uncertain, but determined. Pablo called me after I had just started to get a nice Sparks prompted buzz going, and also loosing hope in leaving town. He told me to grab my shit and hit the road with him and Laurie 40. Heather Loop was also there, but I've edited out the parts of the weekend she was involved within my brain. I found myself instantly smelling of campfires and bootlegged corn whiskey while tattooed kids ate acid all around me. Finally after scoring some hallucinogenic drugs of my own, the weekend was sprouting into a beautiful flower waiting to be picked by my dirty hands. I woke up Saturday morning in the back of a strange car parked on the edge of a hill with my shoes missing. My head still spinning and decided to funnel beer. Jess from philly was in charge of the beer bong. She handled it like a seasoned pro, lifting the funnel end up right as I was ready to attack my digestive system with a cold brew. Guzzling was fully permitted at this party, and mostly encouraged. After swmming out to a floating raft in a pond and falling asleep while drinking Tequila I finally decided it was time to make it back to shore, so I saddled up on my inter tube, and was pulled ashore by a girl on a floating chair who soon became topless. We were joined in the grass shortly after by other people which then we all passed out and woke up and left the group one by one returning to the shelter of the main camp, while the beer bong queen and I made a make shift nest out of deflated pool floats and stolen towels. We then awoke and made our way back to the main camp where after Pablo forced me to shotgun more beer I passed out in a tent, only to wake up at 11pm to get properly shitfaced. Farm Party 2008; The greatest success of all.

There is no beer in the fridge as always

Here is a picture of that dumb cat pretending she is a loaf of bread backing in the sun.

The internet has been out since Eva posted Friday morning. I had that fixed today. I took out the recycling. I did the dishes. I bought some stuff the fridge was missing.

Here is a picture of Dwain.

I also rode 130 kilometers today. Andrew and my self have decided to adopt the metric system. We also need to learn French and walk around pretending we are a pair of ex under twenty three neo pros who got burned out after racing in Europe.

This is the breakfast that made my weekend.

Another thing I did today, or I should say some dumb ass on a specialized langster did is break my derailleur hanger of my Raleigh. Great now I have to track down a replacement hanger before this weekend. While my derailleur hangs out being only attached to my bike by the cable. As much as I like my steel road bike I don’t pretend that it will be much fun trying to push it up a fifteen percent grade at the capital region road race.