The slippery slope is a slippery one.

When last we met, I was describing the train wreck that was my most recent trip to Minneapolis West, so as to attend the celebration for Velo Cult PDX being 20% finished.

To that end, I shudder to think how we will bring the shop in upon reaching 100% completion.

Waking up the following morning, I was bright eyed (one of them was, anyway) and marginally bushy tailed. I met up with a few of my compatriots for a delicious breakfast at The Miss Delta where we licked our wounds and attempted to figure out what kind of bomb was dropped on us the previous evening. A portion of the day was spent in a post-breakfast coma, and exchanging texts regarding what was next with Miss Amanda from 21st Avenue Bicycles. Nearing closing time, Cheever and I made our way to the shop where the previously mentioned mavin of mechanics set us up with a couple of transitionary refreshments;

Immediately Cheever invented a new way to imbibe, which I took a photo of Amanda taking a photo of, thereby proving that even in our altered state, a pinch of postmodernism was not out of reach;

It was midway through this can when I realized the exact moment I turned the corner from cool buzz, to plain old drunk. I knew that at this stage, an evening filled with hecticness was an inevitability. We shot down the street to a diveish bar called Joe’s Cellar, where we opened a can of whoop ass that made the previous evening’s antics seem positively church social-esque in comparison;

It was about this time in the evening when the bartender very thoughtfully cut us off. Or it could have been after my solid four minutes of doing the running man instead of singing the Proclaimers’ ‘I’m Gonna Be’. Or it was Souphorse swinging young Amanda around the room with no regard for the well being of anyone else at the bar.

Either way, our time at Joe’s Cellar was done, and the time to fade into the darkness was at hand.

The ride home wasn’t noteworthy other than losing my way and taking a short nap on a bus stop in front of a closed Chili’s restaurant.

As per the usual, I left Portland with my tail between my legs and my liver in a plastic bag tucked safely in the bottom of my backpack.

Let us never do that again until next time.

Now that we’ve arrived at the conclusion of that mess, there are a couple of small matters to attend to from the mail bag.

Firstly, Jim from Vecchio’s in BoulderColoradowheretheytakecyclocrossseriously made contact with some news regarding the upcoming snobby bicyclist of New York City appearance, wherein he will be reading from his diary while bathed in the soothing scent of Nag Champa;

“¡Hola!
Might you be so kind as to mention Eben Weiss visiting Bouldercoloradowheretheytakecyclocrossseriously this coming Sunday for a bikecycle© ride from Vecchio’s to his book signing at the Boulder Book Store. Fine folks can go to these places for more info:

The Facebook event planner thing, and the Daily Camera event schedule thing.

We’ll light a candle at Pearl and 11th where your drunk ass was accosted by the five-oh and tossed in the pokey all those many years ago.

Tanks.”

If you live on, in or nearby the Front Range, make the plan and stick to it.

Then from Gypsy, I got the standard wordy words that he has become known for sending;

“Pick your caption;

A- I may have puke stains on my collar from improperly combining generic allergy medicine with high octane beer, but at least my hand is handsome.
2- With six years of advanced creative arts education and a $500 cell phone, you too can take crappy pictures just like this one!
C- All Hail the Black Market… Keeping cold beer in the hands of aging punks for 505 episodes.

Punk rock is as punk rock does,

Gypsy”

That’s a trick quiz. The answer is all of the above.

For those who care about such things, Those little 12 ounce cüzies were replaced by the more biggerer 16 ounce cüzies, which I have just run out of. What I have set to replace those is the even biggerer than that 24 ounce cüzie. I don’t have them in hand (so to speak) quite yet, but they will look something like this;

This was in response to the continued ribbing that in this site I run a bit of a boy’s club, which I try to steer clear of at every opportunity. While I recognize and embrace the differences between menses and womenses, I also know that when it comes to getting down with a shell of beer, regardless of what your chromosomes look like, we all have a little bit of Portland in us.

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13 Responses to “The slippery slope is a slippery one.”

  1. Matt March 30, 2012 at 6:37 am #

    Stevil,
    Amongst my crew of morons, we are having a big debate about what to call the 16 oz can – a) Tall Girl or b) Lady Boy. Although your vote carries no weight, we’d like to know.

    You’re like Miss Manners for the dirtbag set.

    Thank you for the magic you bring to our lives,
    M

    • Stevil March 30, 2012 at 6:48 am #

      Dear M,
      Thank you for the contact and the kind words. While I have heard it called many names, I tend to prefer to stick with either the traditional ‘tall boy’, or as you noted the ‘tall girl’. The reason being is that in my experience, ‘lady boys’ (and certainly the ones who I have known) tend not to drink the beer, but rather prefer various cocktails, where as I know a number of tall girls who have single handedly allowed recycling plants to pave their hallways with gold. So with my no weight carrying vote, this is my perspective.

  2. Not the same Matt as above March 30, 2012 at 7:15 am #

    “I recognize and embrace the differences between menses and womenes”

    It’s good that you can tell the difference between the life-giving uterine lining and the people from whom it comes, but I wouldn’t go around bragging about it.

  3. Ben March 30, 2012 at 7:30 am #

    Though I like the sound of both Tall-Girl and Lady-Boy, and I’m sure either one would result in a worldwide renaming of canned beer sizes, I’ve always been firmly of the mindset that 16ozers are Tall-Boys and 24ozers are Magnums. Maybe your giant Coozie could be in the shape of an oversized 44mag shell casing just to avoid any confusion over the size of your, um, beer.

  4. Gypsy March 30, 2012 at 7:54 am #

    Personally, I think we all need to be focusing our attention on what we call the cüzie… Shouldn’t something as useful and important as a beer-keeper-colder-er be termed the “COOLZIE”?!?!?!?

  5. Heavy J March 30, 2012 at 10:31 am #

    I saw boobs in this post and that makes me happy. Well, that and the picture of Cheever riding the old man… But mostly because of the boobs. Boobs.

  6. Amanda Sundvor March 30, 2012 at 10:33 am #

    Oh man, we partied. It was the bestest.

  7. Jim March 30, 2012 at 10:36 am #

    What does your boss say when he sees the expense reports from your business trips to Portlandia?

    • Stevil March 30, 2012 at 12:58 pm #

      “You’re fired again.”

  8. antload March 30, 2012 at 12:41 pm #

    Cheever was in “fine” form at Velo Cult, meaning that the sweet Canadian womenses from Momentum had to retreat before I could enjoy an international exchange. Nice going.

  9. Tom March 30, 2012 at 3:24 pm #

    As a pioneer of bicycle repair stand drinking, I can tell you that Park stands are rudimentary at best. The EVT repair stand provides better flow control and is height adjustable.

  10. chad March 31, 2012 at 9:34 pm #

    Boobs? Where were the fuckin’ boobs? I didn’t see no boobs.

  11. Tiny Hands April 2, 2012 at 1:46 am #

    Not whole boobs since this is a family friendly interblog. Just a beer goggled beauty queen explaining to Stevil that she is in fact from Cleveland.