Thanks to Angel for that.
Since we got that important bit of news out of the way, let’s head on over to the ‘Jen got her bike stolen and would really like it back’ corner.
For those of you who have been involved in ruining cross races for a decade or better, you assuredly remember Jen Dial. She was the little powder keg who used to serve up regular ass whoopings under the Independent Fabrications banner, though has since moved to the mountains of Salt Lake City where she now engages in all activities of an outdoor nature.
She contacted me recently to ask if I might post an alert regarding an affront of a most heinous sort. Someone broke into her garage and stole her beloved and very limited edition road bike. All the news that’s fit to print can be found here.
As I mentioned in a posting on the Book of Faces, should you see a person atop this bicycle, you have a free pass to punch first and ask questions later. On behalf of Jen, I thank you for your time and consideration on this matter.
If you find that you happen to not be the punching sort, and you come across the offender then please print out this photo of Baby Jax and show it to them while saying “you make me feel like this.”;
That should be off-putting enough so that you can deftly slide the bike from beneath the perp and make your escape.
Now, I have a couple of special treats that are just for those of us who like hot dudes. The first one comes from our old friend CFO and it’s titled simply “Casa Bonita Is a Good Place To Piss Your Pants.”;
For those of you who have spent any time on Colorado’s front range, you’re most assuredly are familiar with this place, while some of you might have been introduced to it on the infamous Southpark episode.
For any of the rest of you, Casa Bonita is a huge Mexican restaurant that is jam packed with more whimsical wonder than any single place should be, and with the exception of The Testicle Festival has the crappiest food on the entire face of this earth.
The second treat I have for you is Sam Elliott, looking awesome;
For anyone who is curious, the image depicted on Sam’s shirt is Icarus flying too close to the sun, just before his moustache and chest hair got burned off.
Never let it be said that I am not an equal opportunity weblogger.
In other news, I found an article that is certainly in contention for the WTF of the week.
Nine years old? Even more shockingly, as the article concludes, is that the youngest girl to have ever delivered a baby was five. This would imply that the mother and child would both be in the same elementary school at the same time.
I think my brain just shifted in my skull.
You might also be interested to note that the chain store Forever 21 just recently announced the launch of their maternity line.
At posting time, I could not yet confirm whether or not this new line was called ’18 and Knocked Up’.
Of course baby-baby mamas and this next bit of news have absolutely nothing in common, but that’s what you have come to expect.
On Friday I got an email from Chip of HUP United fame concerning a call to arms for a short track cyclocross event held at New Jersey’s State Fair grounds next month. It would seem that the promoters are in danger of getting the plug pulled on their event of they don’t get a huge number of additional entrants in the next few days.
Moreover, it will be replaced by a monster truck show. Now don’t get me wrong.. I love monster trucks as much as the next guy, but I truly feel for the promoters, as the disappointment, coupled with the immense headache of issuing refunds would be enough to fracture even the heartiest of souls, so should you find yourself in or around New jersey, firstly, I’m sorry, but more importantly, get cracking on supporting your local scene.
No sooner do I refer to “get cracking” does Marko from our esteemed advertisers Planet Bike send me this clip from a movie alternatively called ‘Crackers’;
“If you haven’t seen this movie, I suggest you check it out. Chances are you’ve known at least one of these types in your lifetime.”
I’m not sure what he means by ‘known’. I am one of these types.
“You think that’s a birthmark, right? That’s the real color of my skin, and the rest of me is a birthmark.”
It is with that, I bid a fond farewell and notify you that I may or may not have two essays published in the new issue of Bike Magazine. An autograph signing session will be scheduled at this fall’s Interbike extravaganza at which I will be scrawling my Christian name across everything from basketballs to kitchen tiles, and if the price is right, will certainly air hump anyone who desires right the hell into oblivion.