I’ll have you know that in order to get today’s post penned, I declined an invitation to the bar by this person;
Photo by Bernie.
That’s none other than Turbo F-ing Granny, y’all, and you don’t say no to them twice.
To come home to work I don’t necessarily feel as though I turned my back on our friendship so much, as much as I feel as though I turned my back on the friendship of the bar.
I’m sure I’ll get another chance soon, but whats important in the here and now is today’s post.
Over the course of the last week I’d mentioned several times that we were doing a night time release of the new Cher deck, and boy did we ever;
Six hours after we arrived at the bar, we poured ourselves back into the darkened city streets in an attempt at returning to our respective homes, which I think for the most part occurred for all of us.
That’s actually not entirely true, because earlier that day we got a confirmation from the powers that be from The Smithsonian Institute that they want one of her decks for their permanent collection.
This is the second item I’ve had my stink on in as many years that has somehow found its way into the collection of the Americas. I mean, at some point perhaps the gob smackedness might wear off when their receiving their requests, but I kinda doubt it.
Now that the Cher board is all wrapped up, and we’re on our way to DC with it, business around these parts can get right back to normal.
At least as far as the today’s here and now is concerned, the first matter at hand is that in light of Team Sky’s current host of issues, it’s come to my attention that everyone’s best friend, Ritte Van Vlaanderen has come to the rescue;
I’ll tell you what, the world is, and always will be a better place with Ritte in it.
The next topic I’d like to address is that just yesterday I got a brand spanking new size run of Worship Women, Respect Satan shirts.
And if you have it in your mind that you’d like something a little more enduro-ie, then you should probably get over there to my Voler store and snag a moto jersey in a men’s cut;
Or a women’s cut;
-quick before Voler pulls the piece off if their site.
I sent the VP an email on Monday letting him know that I would be available to discuss matters that day but I never heard back from him, which I guess means he wasn’t. Since I effectively have two week days during which I can get these matters addressed, the fuse on this particular bomb is burning quickly.
So my advice is get while the getting is good, because I don’t know how all of this is gonna suss out, and though I can’t speak about the women’s jerseys, but in general I’d say go up a size. I got an XL for myself and it was snug. I don’t know about you all, but I like my moto/BMX jerseys like I like my human sacrifice robes. Nice and flowie;
In conclusion, not only did I stand around in my backyard taking photos of myself wearing my jersey as a visual aide, to save you the grief of wrenching, I did yinzers an extra solid and photoshopped a handsome clown over my butthole of a face.