Just call me...Crash

Ouch. That will describe it pretty damn good. I by-passed the Halloween extravaganzas of last evening to make sure I was well rested for today. It's a hard thing to do, giving up a social life of drinking and parties and the like just to race your bike. I did it though, and was hoping for a good showing of form to really appreciate some of the sacrifices I choose to make. Yes, it was worth it. A forth place finish in the "A" race and the accolades of my cross racing amigos was a nice consolation for staying in. However, I did not remain unscathed as I over cooked the right-hander in the gravel parking lot about 5 laps in and hit the deck. Me thinks, I left some of my pride and by the looks of it, some skin there as well. No worries, nothing a few pain meds and some beer can't fix. I was thinking about it and how it could have been avoided and I'm starting to believe that the synapses that allow the brain to contact the fear/caution receptors in my head are not working properly. All I needed to do was SLOW THE FUCK DOWN and it would have truly been a good day in the office.

Chronic Exposure

Yup. I have a problem with exposing myself. Recently, there was a paparazzi pic of my naked backside on the internet. In the past couple of days, word has it that more pictures of my exposed derriere have been found in emails. I must confess, the email pictures were all my doing. I should have considered where they were going before I sent them but hind sight is always 20-20, you know what I mean? Anyways, as my mind has not yet completely gotten itself going I will be cutting this post a tad bit short. For all of you who might have missed it, here it is one last time in all of its baby bottom backside glory...




(picture courtesy of DvdV)

True happiness

What is happiness?? I always thought I knew. Seems simple enough, right? Comfortable life, good friends, good health and family. For the longest time I thought I was happy.


... I want to be happy.

I've come to a point in my life where I'm starting to wonder if I made the right decisions. Should I be an engineer? Is this what I want to do with my life? Recently, I've started to think differently. I've debated quitting my good job and working at a bicycle shop for probably half of what I make. I think i'd be happy. Money doesn't mean much to me, I like it, just as much as everyone else, but it doesn't make me that happy. I spend my weekends with my cross racing brothers and sisters and I'm happy. These people are some of the most intriquite, cool and down to earth people you could want as friends. They'll beat the shit out of you in a race but the whole time be cheering you on and as soon as you drag your tired ass across the finish, they'll put their arm on your shoulder and accompany you right to the beer tent for a cold one. That makes me happy.

Women, for the longest time did not make me happy. Yeah, I'd meet them, spend time with them and do all the naughty adult things men and women my age are supposed to do. I wasn't happy. I dreaded the phone calls, the long nights of idle chit chat. There was nothing there. Nothing. I was always told that i'd know when i clicked with someone. No words would be able to describe it but i'd know. I think i've come to that point. I know we click. No longer do i dread getting the calls but anxiously await them. I look forward to opening the emails and seeing a simple message that just acknowledges that i was on someone's mind. It makes me happy. She makes me happy. It's a wicked good feeling (had to throw that wicked in there for a little New England flare) and I hope i get to have this feeling for some time to come.



Maybe i'm a pimp or maybe i might be happy....

busted and bruised

MAC weekend number one in the books and what a weekend it was...

friday night: i role into philly around 11, supposed to get on the 676 west but end up on 676 east. i get off to try and navigate my way to spanky's place through the city. big mistake. i slow down for a red light and all i hear is a giant THUD and a whole lot of city pricks laughing. i pull over and realize that some jackass whacked my truck. this particular jackass happened to be a jolly 300 pounder whose fat ass was not able to get into his limo and consequently the door was flung into my truck. i'll post a picture of the damage soon. long story short, fat bastard has me up after 2am filling out a police report, admits he done wrong and will pay to fix my shit. i fucking hate the city!

saturday: granogue goes better than i expected. after strong island and being so sick i was hoping for a top 20. finished 17th. had to lay off the gas two laps in to keep the motor from redlining but once the engine cooled i was able to hit the gas again and pick up some spots before a sprint finish with dan brill from beacon. got me by a hair. thanks spank for taking the pic.
all the boys looked good, riding strong and props to my man spank for getting in the thick of it in his first UCI race. he totally was shadowing tim johnson on the runup. WHOA!

sunday: wissahickon and a 2nd row start spot. i'm thinking "this is cool, i can totally do something from here". 30 secs... 15 secs... BANG! what the fuck? did that guy just shoot the gun at 15 secs til start? i quickly get rolling only to be steamrolled from behind by the majority of the 77 rider field. the hands go up, the begging to not get run over anymore begins. i get up wrestle the chain from the frame (AGAIN) and compose myself for the onslaught. i'm dead freaking last, and the field is no where in sight. i start hammering, hit the first run up section and RIDE IT! hells yeah. 1,2,3 they start coming back. i'm either going real fast or they are just really slow. it was one of those in the zone days... nothing was gonna slow me down. i heard the supporters showing Toto the love all around the course. it was awesome. ended up finishing 14th out of 77 starters. thats 63 riders i ended up putting behind me. i totally was a top 10 rider sunday. totally. the boys had awesome rides as well. i showed my support for them.

fridays suck...

again i have nothing to do. literally nothing. i beg for work but nothing comes. i guess most people would die to have a good job where they are gettin' paid to sit and do nothing. well my friends, it ain't all its cracked up to be. actually, a little crack might be nice right now.

onwards and upwards...

it's been brought to my attention many times that i'm immature. not only because i look like a kid but my actions would lend someone to believe i'm childish... until now. i refuse to name names to protect the individual responsible for these hanis crimes of calling me old. old!! can you believe that shit. just because someone likes to get his beauty sleep to stay young and vibrant looking they get labeled as old. this individual however, better appreciate my early nights as my dashing good 17 year old barely legal looks would go down the shitter faster than the druggies smack in a police raid.

yeah. she digs me. i can't lie.

on the racing front, i'm heading down to philly to kick it with the brother/sisterhood at the king and queen of the MAC series. gonna do some racing, drink some beer and hopefully redeem myself after a completely un Toto like performance in strong island.

bored

this is bad, real bad. i have not a DAMN THING to do and i'm dying as i sit at the computer and write this. its quite frustrating when i know i could be outside being somewhat productive. oh well, it is what it is.

when i have some free time i'll try to get back up to speed with the blog. post some pics, tell some stories, possibly even show my ass... again.

Cheers from the hood!!