took a sick day and spring cleaning robbed my manhood

Before I officially start this blog, some have asked that I explain the pictures from 2 blogs ago. Okay, the first one of the chic on the horse and me went down @ Reelfoot Lake in Tennessee. 99.4839% of you haven't the slightest of where that is. They don't cycle out there. In fact the idea of a guy in spandex on that side of the world will get you shot. Shaving your legs will get you hanged. At any rate, that woman was a great sport, and got on the horse and road it well, without any sign of fatigue when my sister decided to pay her toll on the bronco. BRAVO!

The other picture is just a day in the life of a professional cyclist like me, talking things over with EL Presidente, and the strongman on the team after a hard day of 250KM, of painful racing. A day filled with attack after attack, and countless counter attacks....It was a day that saw me ride 7 guys off my wheel in a 9 man break as I attacked them on everyone small rise in the road. I laughed as I road effortlessly....okay, I have to stop. I'm lying. Dude, it's really Alex, AKA EL PRESIDENTE, telling me all the things I did wrong in the race, and Kerry wondering why he did not get a top 5 placing. No worries, Kerry got'em next time. Now, on to the blog -----------

Is it just me or does ole Mr. Oden from Ohio St. seem to just 'barely' be there. It's that blank stare into nowhere that bothers me. It's like he's watching Mr. Rogers doing the limbo in a speedo. It's something that you don't want to look at, but you're scared to turn away because you want to see at what level of the limbo bar will his arthritis make him freeze up and flop to the floor. Maybe it's just me.

So, no all day bball tourney for me. I woke up and continued to expel green and yellow fluids in to piles of folded toilet paper. After Kimmy heard the shallow mutter of, "whoa, BLUE SNOT!" coming from the bathroom, she suggested that I sit this one out. Not one to listen to reason, I went against the grain..and ..err..listened to reason.

At home, my quickly laid out my day's action plan: #1-blow my nose, #2-fall back asleep, #3-do number 1 again, #4-complete the "no assembly required" computer desk that I started a few nights ago. Yes, yes, I was trying to do it while watching OVERCOMING(CSC documentary) so maybe it took me a little longer than it should, #5-eat a lot.

So, I think I got most of them done, and then kimmy started pacing around and moving things around. Some of us refer to this as "cleaning." Others of you unfamiliar with the last word might be comfortable with terms like, "pickup all the junk all of the floor, and making things not look dirty." It's what we all do before our parents come in town. Well along with the "cleaning" came a project that always scares me known as "SPRING CLEANING." That means that all the cool stuff I have that really has no use in the house disappears and the good folks @ the Goodwill get a crack at it. Dang it, that's my stuff...all me to elaborate!

This is the sandwich maker, sometimes referred to as "MR. Sandwich" maker. In the past, he has received limited use do to upgrades in technology. The George Foreman grill put him out
business. I always say that one day I'll put him in the game. So, I hid him in what I considered to be an "unknown" spot in the kitchen. Folks, his picture is here today because he was found, reported, and well...he's fallen. We salute you mr. sandwich maker. You had some great days, even though they were so long ago that I don't even remember what it is that you do. In fact, I'm not sure how to turn you on, or even how to turn you off if things with the sandwiches that you undoubtedly burned went wrong. You know how things get when you start a sandwich in the magic chef, then you start doing some yoga, and gettin all in touch with your chee, and then boom, it hits you that the syrup and sugar sandwich that your college budget allowed you to prepare is burning up in the sandwich machine. Whatever...so if something of mine goes, that means that something that's not mine is going down too. Take notice of the Tony the Tiger and Tucan Sam sugar and cream set. Let me say this quickly, and without any hesitation, if there's no negotiating for the sandwich maker, than this stuff has to go. Even though they are cool pieces of breakfast ware, I had to sacrifice them as an act of revenge. We'll all miss you Tony, but you know it's just business big cat.

Well we all know that you don't provoke a woman and take away her breakfast stuff when cereal is her favorite meal. She struck back against the MIB. That's right, I said Men in Black. Don't ask me where or how I got this guy, but I put him in the pantry a long time ago to protect the vitamins, spices and the such. he's done a heck of a job keeping everything safe, and has been know to make vitamins that I don't really want to take disappear. March 31th, 2007 came, and he was told that his services were no longer needed. Imagine for month this small Will Smith replica, although having absolutely no resemblance to the actor whatsoever except for the fact that he's not white, and he's wearing a black suite, has been protecting, the various items in my pantry, and now without warning and all because of a nasty turf war, has been cast out. Well, I took quick action and suggested that one of the dogs whom I feel is fat and worthless also go to the good will. Let's just say, that the MIB are still protected my vitamins. You gotta protect your stuff.

the mute sings the best

okay, this is going to all go down in 5 mins...hang on
-all day bball tourney tomorrow. i know, that's probably bad for my serious cycling career;however, we all need a little distraction. I might just pull a Tim Graham.

okay, so I'm sick...beat...whipped. No joke. Colors are coming out of me, which Crayola could never re-create. SNOT everywhere...anyways, I'm also loosing my voice, so regardless of that. I just drove home from High Point, singing my heart OUT. I mean hard folks. HHAARRRDDD. Rocking out to whom you might ask? I'm glad you did. "MUSE" of course. Now, for those of you who have recently jumped on this band's bandwagon, I must say that I found them first. Hands off. Man, I love that band. Now, I still put Radiohead above them all, but MUSE is really a treat. Unbelievable lyrics, tremendous beats...Angel voices, and king's trumpets...you are invited!(that was A Clockwork Orange quote).

Anyways, back to my singing...folks, I could barely talk, but I was wailing away. The people in the passing cars were reaching out of their windows for me like I was Johnny Cash up on stage. A few old women fainted. I put on some concert for the spectators on 85 south. Every now and then, I'd even put the fake microphone up to my mouth just for the theatrics. After the first CD, I took a deep breath, and put in the next one(most recent), for a curtain call. The thing I did not understand why some people where telling me that I was "number 1." There were some faces out there that did not look so inviting. But, come on people, a famous car singer like me should take up two lanes, and weave a lot. I'm famous!

Maybe they were reaching out to strangle me.

who taught you how to count?(say it with attitude)

Leroy...as I refer to him has a bit of a counting problem. Now, to clear things up so you don't think i'm talking about my uncle or a really old woman who was named such because her parents in all honestly wanted a boy, however; refused to accept that they had a boy and in turn named their darling girl Leroy and made her/him...man it's confusing...dress up in overalls, cut her..his...her hair and always pick a girl to skate with during the couples skate at the local roller rink while White Snake played over the booming system. No, in fact i was referring to my work laptop, Leroy. Now, it's quite the dependable guy/thing...man, i have totally screwed myself on gender for the rest of this blog..bare with me. Anyways, he's a good guy...starts up well, shuts down well. He normally can tell me what time it is, and gives me a little heads up if i have email from Brandon, so we can continue our continuous conversations about cycling, and him dominating the west coast in cycling, and about how I'm becoming his biggest fan because I know someday while he's riding for slipstream, and i'm carrying water bottles the Lees McCrae team, he'll remember me, and maybe give me the sweaty face nod as he passes me with the real peleton as they roll through southern cal on yet another hot day in the Tour of California. Anyways, Leroy is good at his job. He has some deficiencies of course. He cannot count. I don't mean like doesn't calculate stuff in MS Excel well...I mean he cannot tell me how much life is left in my battery. Many of you just gave a simultaneous head nod. Why, Leroy...WHY? I reared you better than this. It was me who migrated all the old files from my older beat up T30 IBM Thinkpad, AKA, Vinny, over to you anyways. I told the IT department to bug off, and I'd do it. And this is how you repay me. I unplug the battery, and 10 seconds later you are telling me that your earlier 40 mins left estimation was for the 95th time, "a little off." WHAT? Come on, how hard is it to say, "hey battery...what'd you got left? I need to let Jewels know...he's been asking?" or if you really think that's too much, how about just, "you feeling okay...10/20 mins...how much do ya got?" COME ON DUDE! I applaud the computer's sleek look, and ability to house various prohibited non-work related programs while maintaining 17 excel windows open for me to quickly "alt-tab" over to when someone strolls by my desk so as not to see me reading Velo News. But, I need just a little more from Leroy. I need an accurate count.

If you want more, keep reading, otherwise...have a good one....

I like to give my day in a recap because folks seem to find it amusing:

1- had to sleep in the guest bedroom because apparently my body, and by body, i mean throat does not like pollen, and since i road my tricycle outside in a haze of the yellow powder, i coughed hacked, and snotted pollen all over the place poor mrs. robinson could not sleep.

2- yes, that's me in the civic swerving all over the road heading north on 77. I have to read PRO CYCLING sometime...and if not then, when? In the bathroom?

3- work= amusing as usual...I cannot believe this company makes money sometimes

4- lunch= the same place as usual...because they serve awesome green tea, and give me as much as i want, and the waitress is a huge steelers fan...go steelers

nap time.

big chicken - low square footage

When momma chickens are having career discussions with their chics, do they say, "now, I want you to be big and strong, and free range?" I'm sure hoping that sort of guidance is giving to all aspiring young chics looking to break out of the oppression of the looming hack'em up, and serve'em 20 pieces at a time with BBQ sauce, Golden Arches, red haired clown guy...mystical future that awaits them. So, anyways, I was rolling up hwy 441 on my way Wilkesboro, NC, and I passed one of those chicken transport trucks. What a site. It was a mobile 900 chicken condo unit. And for a second I thought, wow, the government is totally wrong about the declining housing market. I nearly wrote CNBC off as a total and complete sham, then I noticed that these chickens were definitely not happy stuffed into their 11' X 13' living quarters. There was no cable TV, no fridge, no ikea coffee table and computer desk, no remote controlled ceiling fan. These guys had it bad. And then it dawned on me that all my friends were going to eat that same bit of poultry throughout the day. Did you hear me? You guys are eating chickens that are unhappy! Not only that, they are dirty, nasty, diseased, and injected with more steroids that Floyd Landis, Tyler Hamilton, and Barry Bonds combined. Now, I will take this moment to let you know that those names were only used to get a laugh. I think Tyler and Floyd are innocent, however; Barry...Barry...if you remember that guy was my size one season, and brother buff the next. So, I feel no sympathy for him. Anyways, this is my speech to those of you out there still wondering if you should eat free range chickens(which means that they live their lives running and playing in fields while being hand fed grains, and they normally wear very stylish clothes, sunglasses, and don't' mess with steroids because they are more into fruit shakes, and watch their weight). Well, that's better than your other alternative. That stuff makes you unhealthy, and geez, don't we have enough people with cancer in the world to stop eating McDonald's fries.

Oh yes, I extended my lead in the world food eating championship when I woke up middle of the night, and went downstairs, and put down an entire pineapple without stopping. My dogs looked at me and said, "bravo, bravo." Who knew dogs could clap. I always thought that because they had no thumbs that they could not make it happen.

Dang, I love a good Big Mac.

allergies(this could get graphic)

Have you ever watched clowns try to ram themselves into a VW bug? You keep thinking, man, something's got to give. I often wonder if the guy behind the steering wheel can still breathe? Yeah yea, we know his face is turning blue, and he seems to have lost the normal happy clown look, and if you watch his lips closely, he just said something about, "get off of me, I cannot breathe, I think one of my ribs just cracked, oh wait, I can feel my spleen in my mouth, why did I not finish my last year @ Elma-Charlie's Truck Driving and Beauty School...." Or, at least it appears that he's saying something like that...Anyways, that's how my sinus cavity feels like. It's stuffed full of mucus. Oh yes, my faithful readers, I have drank gallons of green/white/peppermint tea at this point, and I'm just waiting for the river to flow. This brings me to a very interesting point. Does the fact that the cleaning lady just came in here and cleaned the entire office with what appears to be a mild CLOROX solution. And, when I say mild, I mean somewhere around a 19:1 mix. At what point should I be worried about what I'm inhaling...before or after my arm went numb?

And lastly, allow me to throw out the question which should be on everyone's minds. What are smurfs made of? Say if a smurf were running through the woods(and we all know that they should be abiding by all the safety standards out in the forest. SAFETY FIRST!), and this particular Smurf tripped over a rock. Upon impact, this smurf, now apply named TimGraham Smurf, scratched his knee. Is the guy gonna bleed blue? Do they have bones or what? Are they made of a tasty sugar-like treat? Would we all enjoy eating a smurf or 2 after dinner? Stop freaking out people, they may be just like eating chicken. You don't know....and I don't know. But you know who did know, GARGEMEL!!!!

caio!

2 min blog drill

don't blink because this one will be over. I came, I raced, I got back in the car without the joy of flinging my hands in the air or pointing to my chest...i got dropped with 2 laps to go. what self respecting cyclist with any heart does that without AT LEAST faking an injury. oh well, come 4am, i'll be back in the saddle, wheelin around the business park.

who knew a treadmill was that heavy

Memphis lost to Ohio State...and we moved a treadmill(don't worry, race info will follow). 290lbs vs a treadmill. It was like watching a sumi match between an elf and a gorilla. Let's just say that in the end we were able to manuver a gym worthy treadmill down 2 flights of stairs to the basement without having it tumble down on top of my 165lb frame(you do the math on kim's weight). After scratching up the wall to the point that the words were uttered by mr. cheapneverspendatime himself, "dang, we gotta repaint that," I realized that my career as a professional mover was over in a heartbeat...new subject?

Road race today. The weather was beautiful, and all the conditions seemed right, except for the tree trunks I had for legs. Holy cow...after 10 mins on the trainer, I realized that I was going to have to pay everyone in the race to keep it under 15 mph. Oh well, at the end I suffered to hold onto 12th place. I shall now take the opportunity to dispell any rumours that the porta-potty is an enjoyable past time. I had to visit the big green machine as part of my pre-race routine. I'm actually not even going into that story...let me give you the high points of the day so you can return to doing whatever you were before you got distracted with all this:

-bird pooped on my passenger side window while my sunroof was down...smells terrible(oh...so you noticed the present tense there...that's cause it's still on there. It's proper homage to the bird who did not make it back home. BBGUN)
-realized that Oscar F from RABOBANK is the best cyclist in the world(<10%)
-spoke to most of my spanish friends in the peleton today, however; had my 3rd grade spanish corrected more times than I remember...
-lasagna w/tofu hits the spot
-I will pull a Tim Graham whenever I have the opportunity

who invented the Porta John anyways? What sick mind thought of making money off mobile poo?

...how long till yogurt goes bad?

So, I've had the same yogurt in my lunch for several days...so you gotta ask yourself, "Self, how are you today, how are things...oh by the way, are you going to eat that yogurt, that even though looks so nice and creamy, with it's sprinkles of raisins(Saul) and crumbly things, contains the very bacteria that could eat through concrete?" After I had this discussion, I went on to eat it anyways. I mean, I am a eating machine. Many of you may remember my birthday, where I set a new eating record at an undisclosed Mexican "resturante" in Franklin, NC. Any of you who have heard the story know that with these 2 paws I engulfed two Goliath size platters of all your favorite south of the border tasties. Man or Machine?
Well, come what may, and what will come(if it be God's will) are the Sat/Sun combo Road Race/Crit. Let's just say I've been a tad slack on the training this week, so I might just get certain things handed to me in large amounts. Man -1, Machine -0. My tactics you ask? I'm glad you asked, now I have to develop one. Okay, I will choose to go with the sit-in, sit-in, sit-in approach. Man -2, Machine -0. Now be warned, most of your team mates will not appreciate it. And, if any of mine are reading this, just know that 70lbs of yogurt are holding me down. (James 1:12) Man -2, Machine-1.

oh oh oh, I almost forgot...I strongly warn all of you against chuggin a viti-water in the middle of an intense bball game. I did it last night as a 8th grade chemistry experiment, and the result...well the results will all come out in about 10 mins @ the facility of bowel corrections.

Vols? did anyone stay up to watch that(Yes, now I'm rambling...it would have been a great idea for you to stop reading this about 15 mins ago)? I stayed up way past my bed time, and some idiot decides that after snagging the rebound with 4 seconds left, that it's a good idea to NOT exercise one of 3 available time-outs, romp down the floor, disregard the best shooter on his team, and superman, save the day, I want to be on the cover of ESPN, look mom no hands, shoot over the TALLEST MAN IN COLLEGE AS WE SPEAK, GORILLA BOY, ODEN! of course you should get blocked. WHAT WAS HE THINKING? Well the answer is simple. He wasn't.
Man -3, Machine -1.

Legs

I made my first visit to Orr Rd tonight. It was not bad at all. I assume it's gonna get nasty once race season heats up, but then again I guess I'll be gettin nasty by then too. I actually was riding one speedplay on the left and one time impact on the right. okay enough cycle talk. I did realize today that since I don't really kiss butt all day long that "THE MAN" is not going to promote me. Now, this makes me question my time I spend everyday doing the job thing. I'm locked into my position because I said, "I don't plan on being a robot like you want me to be. I like thinking for myself and having a good time." No, really...I don't need anyone to tell me that that was a bad idea. I might as well have yacked up on this desk and handed him a broom and that sawdusty stuff that the janitors used to clean our puke up with in grade school, and said, "clean that stuff up, you're nasty."