And that man wouldn’t happen to be me.
I really think that at some point here in the future I should probably consider providing a corner for the insights of Loudass, cause recently my man has really been on a roll, (and that wasn’t a fat guy pun.)
In a recent foray through my various email addresses, what should I find in my inbox but this;
“Like The Artist Formerly Known As Prince But Now Known Only As A Penis Symbol, I too would prefer to be known only by an image, rather than a name. For friends and family, here is the image by which you are to refer to me henceforth:
For enemies and MUNI employees, here is the image by which you are to refer to me:
Thank you for your attention to this matter.”
It’s good to see that he’s using his work hours productively.
Secondly, due to my absence at the recent dfL spectacle, he has also provided a run down for the what’s what;
“What do the Cookie Monster, a 270 pound man in a tutu, and Fightin’ Joe Blanco have in common?
I really have no idea, but it was enough to make Barry Wicks come down from Oregon, put on a dress and slum it with DFL. Two things are startlingly apparent in this photo is: (1) Barry is really, really tall, because Boozely is well over 6’; and (2) Barry has a more, er, distinct nose than Boozely, although I doubt Barry has had it broken innumerable times by enraged jocks.
As always, it was a transvestite cyclocrosser’s dream come true, with many muscled shaved, legs stuffed into thrift store hooker outfits. I was so far off the back [due not only to obesity but also to major wardrobe malfunction that required a knife to fix] that I don’t even know who won. I assume it was Cam, unless Barry was actually trying hard. I also don’t know who stole my whole case of Budweiser-In-The-Can. Weak!”
Everybody always slams the Budwesier, but I swear, any time I arrive at a party full of beer snobs and I bring my own, it’s always the first thing to go.
And no, it’s not because I drink faster than anybody else.
if you feel a void in your heart due to the fact that you missed the festivities, fear not because fortunately I have a suitable substitute for you right here;
Surprisingly this clip was sent to me by Sally, who wasn’t even there, but obviously knows the rules of the game.
And speaking of which, the word is now being spread far and wide that registration for this year’s SSCXWC is open.
Funny thing, completing a post after a weekend chock full of debauchery. It’s almost as if my fingers want to do the work, but my brain’s not telling them what to do.
As I previously mentioned, Papa Joe opened up his steamer trunk full of dfL paraphernalia, as did some of the other grandmothers and grandfathers of this league of the damned. It was a huge turn out and everybody seemed to have had a great time..
At one point however, I noticed that the bottom of my backpack was unusually wet. Initially I concluded that it may have been due to the condensation of the canned beverages contained therein, but upon further investigation I discovered that a 24 ounce can got a small puncture in the side, emptying its entire contents into my bag.
However the ability of my Budwesier sweater to absorb most of the liquid was nothing short of astounding.
..And yes, that is a can of Redbull you see there. I sometimes carry one around in case I get sleepy.
Of course like any good derelicts, we eventually retreated to the shadows of a nearby dive bar which resulted in two days of blurriness, which fortunately was captured by the shutter of my camera, because very little of it was captured by the shutter of my brain.
Then Bee, Jennifer and I went to get lunch, where I fell victim to the most awesome prank in the books;
What has two thumbs and loves pepper flakes?
Then, amongst all of the booze fueled shenanigans, there was also some bike riding. As I mentioned to Bee during the long haul up the hill to the dirt, riding with a hangover in tow, in my opinion, is something akin to riding with a backpack full of rocks. It only serves to make you tougher.
Of course like any good time, it eventually had to come to an end, which for the sake of our livers and legs, was probably for the best, but I can only hope that the lot of you were on a similar page.
Before I go, it is at this stage in the game that I want to go out on a limb and make a plea to any and all private benefactors who believe in what I’m attempting to produce here on The Black Market to go ahead and shoot me an email.
I’m open to all offers.
Thank you for your time and consideration on this matter.
I may be a whore, but I’m an honest whore.