A belated congrats to Portland's newly elected mayor, Sam Adams. We here at the pleasurefucker couldn't be happier that you're taking over the helm.
Just another reason to love living here.



I hosted the first pdxfixed wrench night in my basement on tuesday night. I happened to run into a guy I knew from my bartending days in Sf, who also happens to be a pretty good wheel builder, so we held a seminar. We drank beer, trued up some hoops, put people on the rollers, and generally created havoc in a small space. Hopefully somebody learned something.

The G's came to town and beat my liver to within an inch of its life. I miss you guys, but we gotta stop cramming 6 months worth of booze into two nights. I just can't hang.

We bowled, and it was not pretty. Hamachi 1, Pleasurefucker 1. Rematch soon, bitch.

Layed off again today, and the weather is grey. I'ma load the Lads up and go check out the nurseries. Seems like a good way to kill time until wifey brings home the Pok. Anyway, I've got bonsai on the brain again, so time to start looking for some suitable stock. Figure it takes between 10/20 years to train something up really nice, so I better get started. Funny about undertaking a thing like this, knowing you may be starting a project that will not be finished while you are alive. It gives one a sense of place. These hands will manipulate. These hands will grow. These hands will be gone sometime soon.

Monday is like a slow suicide, without death's sweet release.

I ran out of work at the shop today, and it's looking like I might be layed-off for the rest of the week. We can by no means afford it, but I could use a break, and I have numerous other projects that are calling my name.

The weekend was just as fucked as I predicted, though we took a nice stroll through the Bonneville fish hatchery and sturgeon center on sunday. Man, sturgeon are some big, gnarly looking things.

I've eaten of those bitches, too, with their creepy eyes.

Looking forward again to the velodrome on wednesday. I suppose it would help me if I bothered to train at all, but what the fuck you gonna do? Life is short, and filled with stuff (thx Lux), so mostly I just try to grab a taste here and there since I don't really have time to pull up a chair.

Ory-gun is about to be inundated with presidential candidates, and Oaklanders. You know who you are.
I already know the Obama got no roll, but how bout you, Hamachi?



Not much else new around here.

So, wednesday I got to try half-lap pulls in an 8 man paceline around Alpenrose.

My weakness was apparent to all.

The track is a ball-busting motherfucker. Nowhere to hide.

Wifey's schedule is changing in the next couple of weeks, so friday night racing isn't far in my future. I have some serious work to do...


Mother's day is on sunday. If you don't get something great for your wife who is the mother of your obnoxious children you have little hope of getting any nookie before father's day.

Not a problem for me, since I'm building something out of old doors and discarded baseboards for wifey. Trouble is, I gotta get up at 4 tomorrow to get down to the shop to finish it before we take a trip to Grandma's House of Weird Food and Strange Ideas.

Here's hoping your weekend is better than mine is shaping up to be.

Titty-Heaven

Well, I figure my three regular readers must be thinking that I've died and gone to titty heaven. And they'd be right. It's been Springy! Worky! Sicky! Bikey! All wrapped up into one sweet little package of benign misery.

I haven't really been feeling self-important (read:drunk) enough lately to bother sharing all of the boring shit that happens in my self-aggrandized little sphere, but since the local NPR station is in the middle of their spring pledge drive, and quarts of Pyramid hefe have been on sale at Fred's, I think I can finally put aside a little time to update you.

Thing one: Track Racing, bitches!

Yes. Slow, old dad put some drop bars on his bike and took it out to be used for its intended purpose. This week's track developement class at Alpenrose was cancelled on account of shitty weather, but I toughed it out with a couple of my compatriots and was able to get in a few hours of practice time. Practice meaning, go left, slowly, hyperventilate fom gulping icy air into bronchitis afflicted lungs, take too many puffs off of speed inhaler and have mild heart attack, puke in infield grass.

All in all, a successful first day out, though I'm hoping for less puking this wednesday.



Thing two: Restricted Diet, bitches!

In a last ditch effort to save me from the surgeon's blade, I am attempting to complete 30 days of my life without consuming lactose products. So, no milk, no yogurt, no cheese, no butter. That pretty much leaves beer and puhgliese dipped in olive-oil. Should they, at some point during this ordeal, recommend that I stop drinking beer, I think I shall go completely mad. I have a feeling the bastards are going to cut me open anyway. What other reason could a person have for going to medical school other than getting the chance to look at people's innards?



Thing three: The Lads.

Oh, The Lads.
One word: Haywire.

The worst part is knowing that soon they will be lazy, boozy, sex-obsessed teenagers, and I really don't need the competition.



Thing four: I hope you're bringing your ball, Hamachi, because I came to roll.



Thing five: All our dead homies are swirling around us in clouds of pink cherry blossoms.

Hi Lu. Hi Grandpa. Hi Jesse. I miss you guys.