VeloNews jumps at the chance to publish stream of consciousness spew from a pro bike racer. But I don’t have to make it past any editors or censors or jump at anything -[except the intention of giving the impression that I’m jumping at what my dispatcher says]- because I pay the bills around here and I’ll publish any spew I can scrape up off the streets and I‘m not making any money. Here we are now entertain us.
Why piss in the bathtub when you can piss in the sink?
How many sideview mirrors does it take to span 6th Ave?
How many traffic cops does it take to fuck up 6th Ave?
How many times do I find myself on 6th Ave?
December 2008
I am F350 hear me roar
My tummy hurts
½ pound of Jo Jos
1 corndog
1 chicken & cheese burrito
5 tallboys
Combine ingredients in a large container and mix well.
Season to taste.
Hold it down.
Ride it out.
What’s in the oven?
A pair of old workboots
No really, what’s in the oven?
Koo-ka-chunga McMuffins
I can’t keep a straight face
This cheapass frozen pizza tastes better the next day. Refrigerate unused portion. Whatever it’s colder in my apartment than it is in my refrigerator. It is. Really. I’m serious. It’s cold outside. So cold my key coil won’t recoil. Hungover. Still drunk. Hungover. Drunk. I’ll never do that again. Whatever. My fingers are cold. My ears are cold. But there’s sweat dripping down my back. Head spinning. Riding the waves of nausea on crowded elevators. Unwanted spectator on officetron conversations of weather and weekends and weekass plans. Smelling morning coffee. Myself smelling like the smell of freedom which this Friday morning is a unique combination of burritos, beer, sweat, wet dog, cat hair, road grime, chain lube, leftover pizza, toothpaste, Old Spice and old socks.
carry-over continuation continuity
residuals
a little plaque in the pipes
it won’t count towards your quota
but is sure helps to speed things along
expedite
if you know what I mean
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