Good times under the Hawthorne bridge.

tetris

I robbed this up from Trackosaurus:




I had a little talk with Jordan Hufnagel yesterday concerning a bit of bicycle repair for me, the building of some cabinets for him, and what I'm sincerely hoping is the eventuality of me scoring one of his delicious frames. Young fellers' only had his shingle out for 8 months, and is apparently inundated with work.
Make no mistake, his work is of the finest kind. He unwrapped a couple of outgoing goodies for me to ogle, and I swear to god, I've rarely seen finer craftsmanship.

Dude couldn't be nicer, either.

****************

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. This whole upper respiratory infection bullshit is the worst. This is what I get for quitting smoking, drugs, and soda pop. An endless hack and bloody boogers, like I've been living under a bridge somewhere. Thank god getting shit-hammered on beer is still considred a relatively benign habit, and one that the doctors never seem to ask you about while they're surreptitiously checking your arms for track marks. I got a weeks scrip for antibiotics and an inhaler, but hot doctor #2 (who is only appreciably different from hot doctor #1 by her 5 month pregnant belly, and a 3 carat rock that spurred the briefest fantasy of me mouth-fucking her while i managed to get that diamond off her finger) only laughed when I told her that I was in real physical pain, and couldn't she give me something stronger, like, I dunno, morphine?

Fuckin doctors. What do they know?

It's in French.

Documentaire sur Paris Roubaix Partie 1
Uploaded by lafouine2229

Documentaire sur Paris Roubaix Partie 2
Uploaded by lafouine2229

There's nothing quite like the first warm day.

I worked up in the 'Couv, and was home by three. Fed the Lads, and threw them in the trailer.
We hit the east bank esplanade, and then hammered down the Springwater Corridor to Sellwood. Lots of bikes, lots of pretty girls, lots of smiles. We clocked a meager 16 miles, but the little fuckers are getting heavier by the day, and trying to maintain any kind of pace with them attatched to my rear axle is becoming torment of the rudest kind.

The fuckin city and the river looked beautiful.

We finished doing our taxes. "We" being "the marital we" meaning Wifey did them all by herself. The rent is paid, there's two more Laginitas ipa's cooling, and the weather is supposed to be fine all weekend.

Just now, just this minute, most things seem pretty right.

Old German what? Socks? Jockstraps?

Ugh.




Yes, bitches, I build staircases. They fuck with my head, but I do it. Not because I want to, but because I need to try out every $3.99 sixpack I can find, and the only way to pay for it is to make dem stairs.




"We put the meat on the pole, not on your plate."

The Delivery

All right, Hamachi. You wanna roll? I trust you're not forgetting about the little red book that lives on my nightstand? The one you've never read?
I thought so, Hamachi. Don't you worry about my game. Worry about YOUR game, Jonny Hamachi!



First I'm gonna do a little bit of this:



And then I'm gonna do some of this:



And ten frames later, you might see one of these:




All in all, I'd say you'd better watch your back.