Oddly enough, by the second day in the woods, I was feeling no symptoms, thereby confirming the diagnosis that one doctor in particular gave me, concluding what I am experiencing are simply the ill effects of stress.

Now those who know me may wonder what possible stresses I might have. Particularly those who know me and happen to be attorneys, with three kids, a mortgage, and a problem with their weight and/or the volume of the voice coming from their mouths.

I have no false illusions that I am of a similar cloth as someone who can bear that kind of weight, which is one of a myriad of reasons that I am not an attorney, with three kids and a mortgage. I wouldn't have pegged this as a result of stress, and in fact I'm still not entirely sure that the doctor was right, but oddly enough, as soon as I got back into civilization, and began thinking about money, and moving, and weddings, and trade shows, and so fourth, the dizziness returned.

It's amazing how repeated free falls into cold water can realign your view of the world;

Your mind is a powerful weapon.. Especially when it's used on yourself.

Anyway, I appreciate the emails and expressed concern, but until these posts begin reading like Stevie Wonder's Twitter updates, none of us have anything to worry about.

Upon my return to the day to day I found that there was a larger than usual assortment of bits and pieces in my inbox, so without much more hesitation, I suppose the time to get to that would be now.

In response to last week's 50 Tyson video, The Gehmans sent the following compilation;

Average Homeboy is tight. Cuz he aint black and don't do crack.

I'm not a huge fan of rap. Of that particular genre, I certainly have some all time favorites, but by and large, it tends to fall flat because when rap is done wrong, it sucks. When rap is done horribly wrong, it's unbearable.

Captain Dave took a second out of his busy schedule to send a photo from this past weekend's Ironclad sprint and crit fiasco to let me know that AHTBM socks will assuredly net you a first place, while the wearing of EVIL socks will get you third;

However, anyway you slice it, those guys could have been riding backwards on their handlebars and they would have looked stunning.

From Mike House, who presumably lives in a house, and also probably never wants to hear The Mary Jane Girls ("In Mike House".. Get it?) as long as he lives, I got this;

"Hey Stevil,

Could you do me, as they say in the citay "a solid" and plug our club's upcoming race. The world is a mysterious place Stevil and I'm certain that you posting the link to the race's site and mentioning how the opportunity to get radtarded will most definitely present itself for those in attendance can sway someone who previously might have spent the weekend at a clam bake, into bringing their a, b or c games to our little race. You have that power...

Details for said event can be found here.

Attendees can be guaranteed the opportunity of some light hearted heckling and maybe a beer hand-up from moi.....

Thanks Stevil for continuing to mitigate the world's suckage levels....

MikeH"

In response I should make two points. Firstly, he didn't say anything about D, E or F game, so I presume I'm not welcome, and secondly, mitigating suckage levels is a 24 hour a day job. I am but a single individual among an army of many, but I pull whatever weight that I can.

From photographer extraordinaire Bob Croslin I get this cringe-worthy clip;

"Glenn has not aged well."

I'll give you a second to peel your faces out of within the clasped confined of your hands.

Kjell got ahold of me to speak on specific points of paranoia, and keeping good company;

"Stevil,

Underground Economy
Illegal Homemade Drug Recipes
Human Organs for Sale
Organ Trafficking
Rare Exotic Animals
Sell Me Illegal Guns
Gestapo
Steroids
Illegal Stuff
Making Money by Selling a Kidney
Ration Coupons
Ration Books
Illegal Things
Machine Guns for Sale
Underground Economy in the USA"

When I was a child my mom used to regularly mention to me that one can be known by the company they keep, and in this instance, I couldn't be prouder of that fact.

Then from John, I got an epic sage that will have you laughing, and crying and standing in your chair;

"Stevil,

I hope you will warn your readers of the dangers all around them. None of us commoners have the fortitude of Linda Hamilton to both fight off time traveling killer robots and bang a Calico Ron Perlman. It must be like getting penetrated by a dong wearing a cozy fleece snuggie.
Via con dios."

No matter how many times I read that email, I was unable to fully appreciate the message behind Beauty and The Beast, and could only think of Jocelyn Wildenstein;

So with that, on behalf of both John and myself, you're welcome.

Also, in regards to the NYT article that John's email started off with, I actually was fortunate enough to get a correspondence from the individual pictured his-self;

"Hey Stevil,

keeping it weird in Queens,
-Ralph"

Assuming that Ralph hasn't washed the jersey after the first two uses, I would assume that the third time will bring flies.

Regardless of the blurriness that the shot possesses, I appreciate that Ralph took the time to notify me of this as well, and am still swollen with pride.

Or that could be a symptom of some other mystery illness. What I might need to do is return to the woods and fall off of a few more rocks to be sure.

Secondly, you probably wouldn't believe how long it took me to make that chart. I mean, it's a really nice chart, except all I did was make the little circles and the captions.

Technologically speaking, it could be argued that I am my own worst enemy.

In news of general introspection, I count myself as a very lucky person to have become aligned with some really great groups of people. The Amigos, The Minneapolis Mafia, San Francisco's dfL, EVIL Cycling and so fourth. I suppose that with the exception of Loudass, The Bear, and Skotty Pawz, it's no coincidence that they all happen to be fairly good looking individuals as well. That being said, the more time that passes since the initial inception of my relationship with Lanolin from Ritte, the more I find to like.

I freely acknowledge that the act of taking me under his proverbial wing was not a lot unlike un-ironically asking the retarded girl to go to prom, and I always appreciate the time. I suspect that there is vast amounts of information for me to learn from him. Why, I've even come across a photo recently displaying just what astounding taste he has in headwear;

That being said however, I'm afraid I have to take exception with his particular choice in shoes. I'm not now, nor have I ever been a big fan of the flip flops, and I hope that this won't ultimately be a wedge that is driven between us.

It is this personal fashion faux pas that allowed me to find such humor in Roger Lootine's newest creation for Urban Velo;

In news not relating in anyway to footwear of any kind, one of the masterminds behind San Francisco's increasingly popular Soil Saloon outlaw series contacted me upon my request with an overview of the event thus far;

"Words from Mr. Saloon - Organizer and Founder of Races for the Competitive and UnCompetitive Alike.

-DC"

These events are reminiscent of the old California Crusty Cruiser Cups- a series I grew all too familiar with, but one that a majority of Soil Saloon's participants as well as the organizers have maybe never even heard of, let alone attended..

My point being that the singular mind set behind events such as these span generations. It is singular, and non-exclusive to any region, clique or scene. This is something anyone is capable of organizing, and as the big regional races become too much to bear, I suspect more and more of these home grown events will begin to sprout legs and walk.

At the end of the day, from my perspective, this is the future of competitive mountain biking.

Alrighty then folks. There is much more where this all came from but I'm back from two days in the woods falling off of rocks into creeks and I mostly just feel like lying down again. Just on account of because I have it, here is a photo of JMac illustrating what a bulk of the weekend provided for us;

I could use more of that, but it's Monday, which of course is Latin for "Get back to work, lazy slob".

It's time to do what the Latins say.

Of course it could just as easily be you, unless you don't have two thumbs.

I wouldn't dare hold that against you however.

If a new AHTBM decal design is what would make your world right, then by all means, pick some up.

"But what do they mean?" you might be asking yourself, and to that I can only respond with "exactly."

This next piece of news is old by now. At least in terms of internet age, the shelf life for most items for which is about four hours at best, but I wouldn't feel right not being one to include as well.

The number one reason Jens Voigt is more deserving of tough guy jokes made about him over Chuck Norris, Bobby De Niro, and Punchy, the boxing Kangaroo combined.

After they made Jens, they truly did break the mold.

Though that phrase is not always indicative of someone that is of an admirable quality.
Case in point? The following link that was sent to me by Aron;

"One moustache is never enough."

Like the kids say, "true dat, Aron... True dat."

Now, as much as I would like to assume the forehead moustache is photoshopped, I know this is not the case.
I would also like to mention that my Voigt/Taxi driver mashup might be one of my finest efforts yet.

Relating to this, Brian Vernor gave me a heads up concerning some straight up nonsense;

"Stevil,

Brian"

Firstly, I have to say that I'm not terribly surprised by this. Disappointed yes, but not surprised. Secondly, I should mention that not only could I have done a much better job at constructing a far cleaner looking image of the fake BP command post, but each of those individuals would have a fine looking penis attached to their heads, because after all, that is my motif;

After all, who better to be illustrated as dickheads than the shameful excuse for humanity that BP has proven themselves to be?

In news of bicycles, and bicycle related athletic events.. As I mentioned at the top of this week, I am fairly certain that in regards to Tour de France rider Andy Schelck's misfortune in stage 15, my utterance of the phrase 'Chaingate' was among the first;

Besides the previously linked article, the ever aware Nick from Biyckel notified me that indeed during stage 17, one of the Eurosport commentators uttered the phrase 'Chaingate'. This occurrence confirms that I do in fact have a bright suture in this profession, and am more than happy to come up with as many turns of phrase as Phil, Paul, or any of the rest desire.

From Cory at Kona Bikes I got this little slice of wonderment:

Not much to say about that one, except that 50 Tyson is pretty good with the numbers.

"Hit me up. And I'm sweet sixteen. Right now I'm sixteen. And then next year I'll be...

Seventeen, all day, I will be seventeen next year. Sweet seventeen, all day every day."

In closing, I have a little jpeg reminder describing just how operations within the confines of the AHTBM world headquarters exist from day to day;

It's Friday. Take whatever thumbs you have at your disposal, turn it up, break it off, and make no apologies to anyone.

First he'd beat up some water...

I could watch that all day.

As proven by this as well as recent posts, gif files are a new chip on my shoulder that I feel lends an air of sophistication to this site that was previously absent.

Please tell me if you think I'm wrong, so I can then tell you that I'm not. Nothing says 'class' like a repetitive clip of gyrating spandex on a loop.

The last person who should be referred to when mentioning class is Captain Dave but he recently sent me a flyer for a bicycle related athletic event occurring this weekend in the utopia of Portlandia that I promised him I would post;

If this is of interest to you, please refer to the larger version of the image that's kept right here on the AHTBM Flickr page.

It promises to be a goodn'.

At this juncture I feel the need to excuse myself, for you see since Saturday I have had the consistent feeling as though I am drunk. At first it was not a lot unlike a blood sugar crash, something with which I am all too familiar. The difference this time was that even after I had food in my system, the sensation didn't go away. I am on day four and a half of feeling dizzy and somewhat out of sorts, and as awesome as this might sound, the truth of the matter is, that it really isn't.

I like being drunk as much as anybody, and the fact that I have had this sensation for days straight without spending so much as a dime within the confines of a bar is killer, but enough is enough. I mention this to you for two reasons. One, if I happen to meander away from whatever point I'm making with more frequency than usual, this is the reason. Two, if I happen to pass away in the night from a weird air-borne mold infection, you can say "that was strange. He totally called it", and having stories like that are generally pretty awesome.

Old age is rad and while we have broached the subject of old age, and its radness, I would like to present you this entirely not safe for work clip from Lewis CK's new show, 'Louie'.

The pre to post middle aged male segment of my readership (nearly all of us, I would guess) will most certainly be able to appreciate Louis' sentiment, as will the lone 19 to 26 year old woman who holds a similar twisted appreciation.

Before my brain began rejecting my body, I was able to embark on a recent adventure with Mr. Blacklsocks, during which time we ended up riding with a larger group of miscreants. As I occasionally do, at some point during said adventure, I laid my bicycle upon the ground and took some photos;

In this final shot of Sean, I am torn between the two titles of "This Is How I Stood As I Was Robbed" or "I Can't Believe I Ate The Whole Thing".

Or possibly some combination of the two.

In other news of bikes and riding them, along with an assortment of others, my old friend JMac and I are fixing to go on a long journey here in a scant eight weeks, and while my fitness hasn't given me pause, it was an issue with J. As such, he has been not only been riding ridiculous amount of miles, but it appears as though he returned to his former life as a gym rat;

When J's fitness is on point, he's a hard act to follow.

As you've come to learn, this site is a multi-facited one. I prefer to shine a spotlight on as many topics as I can, so as to not fall down the one trick pony rabbit hole. First and foremost however, it is the bicycle that brought all here together, and it occurred to me that with the grand Tour over two weeks deep at this point, I have uttered nary a peep about any of it.

I think the time to right that wrong is now, as I present you the single Tweeted summery of my insights thus far;

That right there is what we in the business call 'journalistic integrity'.

As we gaze out over the horizon at the setting sun, I present you with this last bit of fodder that was sent to me from Ray.

Before you get into it, I should mention that the video title pretty much sums up what transpires therein.

Some days you're the chimp, some days you're the frog.

There's still no word on what PETA has to say about any of this.

Nightmares for everybody!

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.

Hell yeah,

(Obviously neither of these people are me. It's Squid and Carlos from Cyclehawk, and I would be lying if I said I was ever mistaken for either of them.)

I was terrible at this, and would constantly need each job paged to me so that I wouldn't forget what I was doing, which happened with the same frequency as me actually calling for the job.

What this has to do with anything is very little, but as I sat down at my desk to begin today's post, those words rang in my head, and I began to once again reflect on the content of Tuesday's post which was of course, finally finding a forum for the abundance of non-sequiturs screaming through my head.

Had the opportunity to continue engaging in web log duties not presented itself, I most assuredly would have ended up being the guy on the park bench screaming to the sky about donuts, fire engines and some guy who works for NASA.

Not that there's anything wrong with that, mind you. It's just really hard to make a living at it.

Fortunately for me, I also have people like Andy who add fuel to the fire with videos like this;

Which obviously walks in lock-step with this one that the estimable DPow! from Portland Design Works sent to me;

I only wish I had received this sooner, as it was just a couple of weeks ago that I was cornered in a dark alley by a length of rope and a big block of ice and had no defense against either of them.

"That's what a great sword is all about. Deep penetration!"

I'll drink to that.

Not that rope attacks, deep penetration or drinking have anything to do with this next bit, but Amigo Number Four just took delivery of his brand new Blue Collar road bike that was built by Amigo Number One and custom powder coated by none other than the geniuses at Spectrum Powder Works;

And the finished product?

I want. I really, really want.

So it appears as though Amigo Number One has got his frame building machine up and running again. Though the url of the old Blue Collar site has long been absconded by someone making those god forsaken moped kits, if you really had your heart set on one, get in touch with me and I'll see if he has any interest in squeezing such a project into his schedule.

While we are on the topic of misanthropic frame builders, Chris Igleheart made contact to let us know that as per his usual state of being, he is, as the kids say, "holding it down";

"Stevile

Here is a snap of me on the newest version of a fixie, as in why not go for tradition if you want to be a hep-cat?

Cheers!
Christopher"

It's good to see that Chris was wearing the requisite argyle socks, though there is no word as to whether or not he was successful in his eventual attempts at 'bar spinz'.

Another brethern of our two wheeled ilk is Yuri the super honch, from Marin Bicycles fame, who got ahold of me with thanks, as well as an unsettling bit of news from the highways and byways of this great nation;

"Stevil,

Yuri"

And there I was foolishly think that the only things truckers choked on were No-Doz and bits of dissected prostitutes.

And again, it's a terrible segue, as Michael from Idiom Sweatshop presumable knows nothing about choking on hooker parts, but he did get in touch with me a few weeks ago with photos of his latest art installation on Vail Pass;

Have I mentioned before what a huge fan I am of the stencil medium? When I lived in Oakland, I made several, which I tested out on the sidewalk in front of my flat. They were nowhere nearly as complex as Michael's, though I was proud of them just the same. Eventually someone else took note of my display and began including their own (much, much better) additions to the collection. Last I saw however, the whole set had been sandblasted away and was nothing but slight discolored patches on the pavement.

Though with the receipt of Michael's email, I'm thinking that it might be that the time for me to get my index finger calloused and dirty might be upon us once again.

Or in keeping in tune with guerilla art, I could just go with the wheat paste route;

Finally, while touching on graphics of a low brow natures, I will once again direct you to Minneapolis' own Stroker Ace Screen Printing. The hearty soul at Stroker Ace not only has a wide array of palatable designs for which to wear across your Herculean chests, but is responsible for the production of the various AHTBM shirts as well.

What better way to stick it to the man, then to wear a subversive message on your front side?

Also, I wan't to publicly thank Cobra Commander for his tireless efforts in getting me my own captcha down there in the comments section.

The only down side is that I won't be reminded a hundred times a day of various wig sales and new Russian porn sites.

It is with that, that I say "happy whatever day it is to you, and all hail, my friends."

The boulder just stopped.

Also, for the record when I was speaking to Mr. Brown about this point, I didn't use Slayer as an example. I believe I used 'cheese'. As in, "I like cheese alot, but I wouldn't want to eat it all of the time".

In response he said, "maybe you should get out of your comfort zone, and begin experiencing different things, which would then serve as a new breath of inspiration."

Maybe that wasn't it specifically, but that was the point he was making.

The point he made echoed a dream I have been entertaining for some time. Instead of posting second party insights of this outlaw race, or that fund raiser, what I would very much like to do at some point in the next year would be to take this show on the road and actually go do that random alleycat race in Chicago, or sample Kansas City's Swope Trails, or perhaps even spend some time in paradise with Colin;

"Stevil,
It's time for an update from Hawaii. This past weekend, friends of mine celebrated their first anniversary by throwing the second edition of Freedom Fest Hawaii on 4th of July weekend. It was a benefit for the American Red Cross and included a 10K trail run, 20/40K MTB race and an off-road triathlon. A great time was had by all, including myself, who was fed and served beer all weekend... This photo thing has been going well lately.

Aloha,
Colin"

Maybe I could even bring along a videographer, and we could parlay the entire thing into a Dave Attell-esque experience;

I can't think of a single reason why something like this wouldn't work other than the fact that Dave Attell is far funnier than I am, and my liver would most assuredly shut down within weeks of embarking on the tour.

Why, with the exception of Hawaii, 685 even sent me a shot that he took while recently bumming around Colorado's high country of what could ultimately serve as a dream coach for the trip;

The description of his trip is what I would choose for the manifesto of my own;

"YEAH, BIG TRIP WITH TONS OF STUFF TO UNPACK.
MUD, BLOOD, BEER, SAND, RUBBER AND GREY MATTER."

If this vans 'a rockin', it probably means a wrestling match is occurring inside.

At any rate, I dare to dream, and at the upcoming Interbike bicycle trade show extravaganza, I am going to begin turning the cogs to see just how realistic such a trip might be. Rest assured, should this journey come to fruition, each and every one of you is invited to take a turn at the wheel.

While fantasizing about attending events from sea to oil slicked sea, it occurs to me that the lovely and talented Jesse Lee Stein, pictured here looking fine as usual, has been busy curating a benefit art show in New York this weekend that she emailed me a flyer for and a request to post;

If you find yourself in the big city this weekend, this event will definitely not be one to miss out on.

Not that traveling to the North Bay is exactly out of the said comfort zone, my better half and I did just that this weekend to meet up with El Gigantor Pirata to sample some dirt of mountain biking's motherland;

With each one of these shots, you can almost hear me calling out "waitwaitwait.. I'm sorry. Go back, my camera wasn't turned on."

As usual, I put the hessian in 'profhessianal'.

Regardless of what kind of bike I happen to be on, ever since I first was forwarded the following video by dRjOn, I can't help but feel as though my attempts at documentation pale in comparison;

I know I've already posted this, but I think it's worth another go around.

Only barely relating with this, I get an interesting bit of news from Jordi;

"Another reason roadies are miserable."

It's true. You really do rarely see clean people who are happy. In recognition of this burst of information, I will include a photo of my hand;

Just because I spend my work days hunting and pecking, doesn't mean I'm not still a dirtbag.

Since we are neck deep in thoughts of fantasies, and the beautiful people, it's only right that I should now take the opportunity to post a photo of AHTBM chief of security, JGH, holding it down as only he can;

He looks good so I look good.

In a AHTBM first, I hereby declare this week Mara Abbott week.
Why, you ask? Because this past weekend she was the first American to win the Giro Donne, thereby proving that she is one of the baddest asses on the planet.

Was there even a peep about it on any of the news channels? No, of course not, but I will fly her flag from my tiny corner, and sing her praises until I'm hoarse.

Photo credit Cyclingnews

Congratulations Mara. You rule.

As I pack my bags to head into the sunset, I will bid you farewell with this clip that I've posted a few times before, but like the above video, its awesomeness begs for a repeat performances.

It's clips like that that make me realize no dream is too big or outlandish to pursue.

Unlike Slayer or cheese, or even my own brand of ranting, gold boots and afros never get old.

Thank you.

After I received it, I sent to two of the other most stoked people in the megaverse that I know, DPow! from Portland Design Works and Kevin from Showers Pass, who in turn forwarded it on to the most stoked people that they know in the megaverse, and so on and so fourth.

By this point I've seen it in at least fifteen different places, so I assume you have as well.

Anyway, for maximum viewing pleasure, I recommend you play this at least five times simultaneously, and turn your speakers up.

To make this as easy for you as possible, I've provided this, this, this and this.

If this experience doesn't leave you with tears of laughter streaming down your face, then I guess that means you and I are not the same.

Then again, I get a huge kick out of going to the aisle in toy stores that have all of the fire trucks, tow trucks, cop cars and so fourth with all of the various sound effect buttons on them and attempt to push them all at the same time, resulting in a wall of sound that would make Sonic Youth proud.

I also have to take the opportunity to post this email that I got from Fyxmatosis Andy in which he self promotes shamelessly;

"Hey Stevil

andy"

Somebody call the boarder patrol. That lady seems to be smuggling marbles.

Also, Jon from Dahlonega Wheel Works sent just one single, solitary photo to prove just what specific quality they possess that makes them Dahlonega, Georga's premiere high end bike shop;

You can always trust a shop that occasionally dons a gigantic prosthetic duck head.

I want to take a minute and mention a couple final items. As has become customary on this web log, anytime somebody sees anything resembling, or directly referencing three sixes, it seems as though a photo is shot and emailed to me.

Unicorns, three sixes or bacon...

Yeah, I know I made my bed.

Anyway, my friends Kim and Greg from Bike Monkey Magazine just completed their baby making process, which resulted in a little girl named Pearl. In a single gesture that trumps all of the others, Kim emailed me to let us all know we have a new team member;

Who knew the Anti-Christ would be so dainty?

For the pin-up portion of today's post, I offer you the dreamboat that is Jordi;

I am no Graham Watson, this is for sure. However, I have been biding my time until I can afford a midget to sit atop my handle bars and shoot various ride photos for me.

Only little over a year ago I didn't have a job. Who knows what the next twelve months might have in store for me? I might even have two midgets. I will name them Bean and Trolly, and they will wear pointy hats.

Well, as I said at the outset of this post, I have literally worked my fingers to the bone at the tip of this week getting the latest kit order buffed out and sent in. It wasn't nearly as complex for me as the initial order, but each time I engage in this process, I am faced with a whole new set of challenges. As near as I can tell, I haven't yet butchered the entire thing, so as a treat to myself, I'm going to kick off a little early today, as well as play hooky on Monday the 12th to engage in all of the activities that make life worth living.

May I please suggest you all do the same?

You know the plan. Ride bikes, drink some drinks, make some art, listen to some music, binge on hallucinogens, and video tape some rainbows..

You know. The usual.

Ironically, the first time I ever crossed paths with him was at a different Red Fang show in Oakland, where I was drunkenly egging on the fury of a young woman who was livid about the fact that while standing in the middle of the crowd in front of the stage, anyone would have the nerve to make any sort of physical contact with her.

*Editor's note. I was wrong. This is not the grumpy lady, but rather the Wizard's better half. Please make a mental note of this correction. Thank you.*

If you care to watch, the end of this video was the exact moment when that photo was taken;

Ironically, or possibly not, the fellow standing directly to her left is once again the previously mentioned Wizard.

Rumor has it that he travels in one of the band's guitar cases.

While pissed off girls, and loud rock music have very little to do with my next point, it is slightly reminiscent of two photos I came across recently while biding my time on Flickr. This first lovely photo of the Two Wheeled Lady;

And the second photo of her, having the first photo taken, that was caught by frame builder extraordinaire, Josh Muir;

Of course this also makes me think of the recent photos I posted of Simon taking the plunge;

And the photo that GenO took of me taking the photo of Simon taking the plunge;

Which brings us back to the first photo in this post, and an entirely different perspective of the Wizard;

It's like the many views of the Kennedy assassination.

In other news entirely, while avoiding explosions, and drunk people, and drunk people making explosions the other day, I retreated into the safe confines of a nearby independently owned bookstore to look at magazines, only to be accosted by this;

For the sake of honesty, I did open it up and flip through the pages to see just what the hell was going on, but was overwhelmed with a sense of apathy and immediately put it back on the shelf. As I mentioned to Greg from Mud and Cowbells after posting the photo, "25 year olds with chest tattoos and poetry go together like renaming BMX tricks and a false sense of self importance."

Boom. Check and mate, Gilligan. Time to take your whip back to the U.S.S. Minnow and eat a coconut.

In a round about set of coincidences, the same day I shipped out the first run of kits, 685 began shipping out his latest creation, 'the Muststash'. For those who have followed the blog from the Swobo days, you might remember me mentioning something about playing around with a very early stage prototype of this, and now that he has worked out the kinks, they are ready to be consumed;

As I've said before, I tend to not partake of the safety meetings, but for those of you who might, this is a pretty brilliant piece for your arsenal. Each unit comes with an individual serial number chosen either at random, or by you. I picked the obvious;

They come with a series of o-rings and are machined with grooves of different depths so that each unit can be customizable to fit whatever inner diameter your particular handlebars happen to have;

It just so happened that between the o-rings that came on it, and the tape in my bars, my Muststash fits snug as a bug in my moustache. These run $42.00 a piece, and are available directly through the Pentabike website.

Now, in closing and as a tip of the hat to my friends at Easton Cycling, in honor of this year's Tour Day France, they have teamed up with Cycling News to bring you 21 days of free wheels. All you have to do is sign up and follow the tour and each day that passes, you get a new chance at winning a set of Easton wheels.

While hanging around at the Easton H.Q. recently, my inside man there said they are set to give away over $20, 000 worth of wheels.

That, my friends, doesn't suck.

Unless you don't like bike racing, or really nice wheel sets being handed to you.

I suppose like we've touched on in a majority of today's post, it all boils down to perspective.

On the entirely opposite end of the spectrum comes this video that was sent to me from Kevin, who I have known since I was in the third grade. Not that that has anything to do with it. It's just kind of a cool fun fact;

What is particularly special about this video, is I actually introduced Peaty to the now renowned MacAskill video back when it was a blip on the radar with fewer than a thousand views.

I still can't figure out why I wasn't invited along on this trip.

On the business front, as I am buttoning up the second and final order for AHTBM kits, I want to make sure everyone has received their previously placed orders. If not, this is the last chance for me to make good.

IF YOU HAVE NOT RECEIVED YOUR ORDER, get ahold of me directly, and I will make an addition on the current order. I do not have stock on hand with which to send replacements, so I need to know before Tuesday, 12:00ish West Coast time, so that I can include additions to the order.

One person who thankfully did get their goods is the lovely and talented Jody, pictured here looking arty;

I should also mention that due to a random technological snafu, at some point the 3/4 zip jersey turned into 'out of stock', which isn't the case.

I can get 'em, and if you want 'em, you can. We shant let THE MAN keep us down.

In news of 'how much more dumbed down can life get', DPow! from the esteemed advertiser Portland Design Works sent me this piece of wonderment;

"How many hours have you scratched your head trying to figure out how to put batteries in things? Personally, I usually just look to see which way they go into the terminals, and install them. I guess other people must really struggle with the process which is why Microsoft is pushing this new technology so hard.

Happy Birthday 'Merica!"

Now you know, upon further thought, I don't think this is such a bad idea. I for one welcome advances in technology that makes it even easier for me to blindly go though life wearing proverbial mittens so as to not scratch any of the bumps. As a matter of fact, when the new device is made available to help ensure that I put my pants on frontwards every day, I will be first in line.

Sometimes humanity is capable of finding their ass woth both hands though, and occasionally one of us will go so far as to create what I like to call a 'works donut', as in 'it works, don't it?' Case in point is illustrated by this recent transmission from Adneef;

"Dear Stevil,

- A"

After working in a bike shop for many years, I swore I would never again work on my bike while it was leaned up against a sofa, or turned upside down in the middle of the kitchen and in a fit of generosity, one year for my birthday an ex-girlfriend presented me with a Park work stand. Now that Adneef has shown me what is possible, Maybe I should have taken her up on the ipod she offered me instead.

As Joan W. Donaldson was fond of saying, "when the going gets tough, the tough hang bikes on gardening hose from the ceiling joists."

As the summer season rolls on, so do the varied underground bicycle racing styled athletic pursuits. As per their usual cryptic promotional practices Ye Olde Soil Saloon gets ahold of us with another announcement,

"YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAERRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHAAAAAAAWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It has begun. It shall continue.

Yeehaw,
Lonesome Hank"

All I have to say about that is captured deftly in this photo of Dustin at the season opener by Nerd Love;

Hell yeah. The virus is spreading.

I'll go ahead and pinch this one off on account of that none of you are at work today, therefore none of you are wasting company time on the site.

I for one, understand the inner workings of.. um.. Working.

Did I mention that noon tomorrow is the cutoff for ordering kits?

Yeah, I thought so.

Let us begin.

My oldest and dearest friend named after a sea creature got ahold of me with a short list of upcoming events in and around New York City;

"Stevil-

Squid"

For Squid I would go to the ends of the earth, or at the very least link a few events on this website.

In other news of handsome men in the big city, Newt (pictured here looking smashing) sent an email to let all of us know that the windy city's second annual Big Dummy challenge is set to kick off again on July 3rd for any and all residing in the greater Chicago area.

For those who might not know just what the hell I'm talking about I offer you this;

A brief synopsis of the freakout can be simply summed up with the following;

"Its gonna be a little different this year but the basic principle is the same. A stupid amount of fun with a bunch of people that don't suck."

If you are hugged up on the book of faces, go here for more information. Otherwise, contact Johnny Sprockets directly.

Tell them I sent you.

Unless they seem to be in a bad mood, then you can forget that part.

In other news, Pentabike sent in this bit of post-appolocypta in for our consideration;

One man's famine is another man's fest.

It is slightly reminiscent of the aftermath from the 1989 Oakland Hills fire storm, after which I had no fewer than 18 empty pools at my disposal leaving my feet bruised, and my wrists battered.

Speaking of 685, his newest piece of hardware has just rolled off the assembly line and for those with a penchant for regular safety meetings, the Muststash® is a must-have;

For my part, I don't partake, but the thing was so cool I had to get one. I'm sure the grassers in my realm will be glad that I did.

Next up.. You all remember George, right?

He is one of the individuals who have consistently had a place within the annals of the varying web logs for which I have written. As per his usual poetic styled prose, he now comes though with another;

"This wasn't exactly the worst place I've ever had breakfast. It's at the top of a climb that I have a love hate fling going on with; loose sandy babyheads and steep switchbacks for a solid unrelenting 45-60 minute coitus session;

George"

I've said it a bunch of times before, but I'll say it again. It's not a bummer to be George.

From the young upstart that is one of my esteemed advertisers, DPow! from Portland Design Works, we get the following;

"Here is some simple math for you sir:

Pure fucking comedy gold."

Jesus, I swear sometimes I think I should just turn over the keys to this thing to Dan. He is a true visionary.

As the America we know and love continues its descent down the proverbial economic and environmental crapper, it's easy to feel a sence of hopelessness.

Luckily, in all of the doom and gloom, Stewart sent me a bright piece of news that almost makes it all tolerable;

"Ünited Stätes Toughens Image With Umlauts."

I realize that at this point in history replacing the stars with some horns is completely passé, but it was easier than replacing them with tiny pentagrams or flying V guitars, and at this stage in the game I am more than willing to always take the path of least resistance.

That comes from the single speeder in me.

From my new friend The Bike Shop Girl I received the following little slice of eye candy;

Now if you know me at all, you are aware that I think critical Mass has long overstayed its welcome, and if anything, at this point is doing more harm than good, but I do very much appreciate the visual stimulation and utopian-esque flavor that the video provides, so I guess I will take the good with the bad.

Before I go, I should make mention of a hodown coming up in our city by the bay that should you find yourself in a close proximity of, you might wanna get some wheels in on;

It will be a good time benefiting a good cause.

With that, I will bid you a fond farewell until next week.

If you need me at any point over the upcoming weekend, I will either be blowing my fingers off, or relaxing in my smoking jacket on my sandwich bed. Either way, you are all welcome to come along for the ride.