i offer this service to anyone who would like it -- FREE

I have legs longer than most women

#1 - for you cyclists stay away from polar products. they were not made @ the n. pole by the friendly hardworking elves whose 401Ks are securely wrapped tight due to the ever increasing need for candy canes, sleds, and nosetrimmers. polar HRMs are okay, however; the power modules are less that terrible. i am sending mine back for the 900th time, and i do not believe that is much of an exaggeration. you have been warned.

#2 - i would like to offer a free no money back guarantee to those of you out there who do not use cruise control on the highways of these united states. it's not hard to do at all. in fact, please gimme a call, and i will send you my 5 step instructional dvd which walks folks just like yourselves step-by-step on how to use the cruise control feature on your car. some of you may be saying, 'well, julian...i don't have cruise control.' i'm glad you brought that up, i also have something for you. it's called the 'pick a speed and deal with it because you are causing a normally docile and kind individual to be induced with severe and flagrant road rage which will not be calmed nor toned down by level headed individuals telling him to pipe down, and let it go.' please allow me to give you a situation which should encourage you to use what the the good car genie gave you. i see driving like cycling. i don't mind driving in large bunched up group; in fact i prefer that...it makes my car use less fuel. but if the person in front is a 150 year old headless driver(old person whose head does not reach over the steering wheel), and they are all over the road at the firm 45 mph pace, i get a little irritated. Let's say that we're all driving together and someone has 'break at every thing on the highway' syndrome. once again folks, this is a problem. you don't have to hit the large pedal every time you see red lights 20 miles down the road. you don't have to break when you see hows on the side of the road or for the following reasons: large trucks pass you, litter on the side of the road, your phone rings, you hang up your phone, a good song comes on, there is a wreck on the other side of the median, you hear about a wreck on the radio. do not break for any of these reasons, or else it will give me sufficient justification to break your neck. for all of you folks that i tend to pass 17 times. allow me to make this clear, I DON'T WANT TO RACE OR SEE YOUR FACE THAT MANY TIMES. I DON'T KNOW YOU, DON'T WANT TO, AND DON'T LIKE YOU. there, i said it. that goes out to you mr. whitesaturn that i passed 1000483483948394.348348 times today because you could not pick a speed and stick with it. folks i have the cruise control on, it's you who are erratic and irrational with your fluctuating mph. if you cannot handle yourselves, please pull the car over, and i can put a small block of wood under the gas pedal and duck tape your size 9 to it, so you can just go one speed. sometimes, i wish we were all on a rail, each car placed 9 feet apart. that would keep those folks in line. remember, it's not because i care, it's just that i care about getting passed by the 6 Delta Delta Delta's slammed into their dad's Yukon 15 times, while they rock out to "since you've been gone" simply because Becky's Gucci loafer can barely touch the pedal. Eric, please take this moment to put another notch in the belt, called my review. [no offense on the Becky comment Tim. Becky Graham is a saint]

in czech, Friday means "run before your boss sees you"

of all places i'd like to visit, I think kublackistan is on the top of the list. oh yes, i've been warned that such a place might not exists. but, people always say "might" because once you get over in that Kazakhstan/Krygyzstan/Mongolia region, it turns into a free for all, anything goes, invite your cousins over for chips and dip, coconuts nuts minus the nuts...kind of affair. In other words, it's nutty. i think such a place is perfect for me and my entourage. I realizes as I was sifting through the myriad of digital photos on my computer that I left out very important and quite commical pictures which show the true love that exists over at the motovelo/sledgehammer charlies family. You see sometimes when we're on the trainers warming up, we like to hold hands. It's purely hetero fun. Why do I wear a helmet when I'm on the trainer? Fantastic question. I have absolutely no idea what I was doing, nor what was really happening...this is not uncommon. Secondly, you might as....what the heck is El Presidente doing? As usually, he's taunting us with various sugar-filled delights. Now, let us get on to other random funny events that require very little thinking for your brains to digest yet provide moments of euphoria that your bosses will not be happy with.

#1 - POST OFFICE SMOST OFFICE: okay, the platform on my speedplays broke...for you non cyclists...a piece of my pedal broke because i'm just so explosive and powerful when i ride..>AAGHH!!!!...so anyways, i thought...cool, let me save a little dough, go to the post office instead of shipping through *COMPANY XYZ* So i roll in do the automated thing, cause that's how i thought i rolled. i tried to be a big boy, apparently i have a lot to learn. i assumed that those envelopes were for customer use. i figured it was a good will offering from the post office that they would supply the means if we supplied the way...but heck no. so i grabbed a priority envelope and attempted to send my pedal back to the good folks over @ speedplay, which yes as you guessed it are way more tree-hugger than i claim to be. I mailed it on it's way...and i'm thinking...good deal. well, if i had picked "BIG IDIOT" for $400 Alex Trebeck, then the question would have been, "who tried to ship something regular ground, in a priority envelope?" DING DING DING..."who is, jcr?" yah, got it right. so they promptly sent it to my house, so i thought well dang...i'm gonna ship this with their envelopes whether they like it or not. so i took the smartest chic around up the the PO with me this time. she's good for figuring stuff out or getting people fired. and i figure since i'm not white, if i kick and beat on the machine, i'm in jail, however KR's less than brownish skin color keeps her from never confronting the 5.0 on anything less than murder. so she concocts a genius plan....let's take an envelope and turn it inside out, thus still using their stuff, however tricking them, and thus getting me some vindication. GENIUS GENIUS. and so it was...

#2 - cupcake me, i'll cupcake you: so apparently, i was duked into eating some cupcakes...yes yes, they contained sugar, HFCS, and a buncha other chemicals that i believe go into the concocting of smurfs. I'm sorry Cara, but I do believe they still have something sugar like in them besides cyclocross mud. so i thought, one good turn deserves another, so i took the cupcake and chunked it at an oncoming mini van. now, this mini van contained a very clever woman that i know and like, however i thought she'd just let it go. the look on her face told me otherwise...later that night as i was about exit my vehicle, a van comes barreling out of no where....guns it towards my car, and in an instant i became the victim of a appalling crime, a drive by cupcaking. it hit my windshield. the next day a back of cup cakes was even mystically delivered to my neighbor's doorstep(they got confused as to which house was mine). So, i fought back the only way I knew how. I sent one of those creepy, stalker, kidnap style letters, formed with block-lettering from velonews, simple magazine, and some random recyclable items...wrapped the entire gooey cupcake in the letter, and shoved it in the envelope addresses to 'you know who.' that's how i roll. Eric, if you're available please put that on my review as well. my palamaries are stacking up like a ditch digger piles up the dirt. oh ya, i forgot...i did shave down to a mohawk on Saturday...

i'm just a junky

LEFT:this is the motovelo squad making up random stories after the race...except for kerry...he usually tells the truth, however he is the only one winning races, so we normally have to make up fictitious stories about our chains coming off, and my recent story about how my finger was brutal gnawed off in the chain while i was pumping 450w which seemed to not hold up when everyone starting examining all my fingers. i stick at lying. BTW, that's me with the pretty legs.

__________________________________

i've never been all the big on heroine. as it seems to be a fairly expensive drug and would require me to stick needles in my arm. i save that privilege for the chic at the doctor's office and the lovely ladies that work their magic on mi los dentes. besides, we've all seen that movie trainspotting, and it doesn't make the life of a junkie seem as nice as the folks who linger around the *COMPANY XYZ* General Office(Mike you know what i'm saying). In some respects I think it would be a much simpler life. You would not pay taxes. You'd care less about what happened in the stock market. You'd get a ton of hand-outs from office hippies like myself. What a life. There are some things to consider of course...the whole "cardboard box - residential living experience." Some things you just have to look past. Anyways, I've had a little bit of blogger's block here lately. Some have said that the last blog was my best every so there is obvious pressure to impress you people with another fantastic tale which probably ends me the word - "porta john" or "i did not know you could get sick from that." But, i am going the other direction. I plan to bore you completely in an attempt to get you to come back one more time...at which time...i will wow the crowd with a terrific display of dynamic vocabulary, and flowerly pictures of landscapes that make you cry and stand in awe. Allow me to ramble and catch you up on all the days you've missed.

First: Friday I was forced into hard recovery from the Monta Albon experience. Few men have walked away without permanently damanged colons. Eric still coughs up blood, and told me that the thought of going to the bathroom makes his want to cry...but he's also scared of clowns and men named Craig.

Next: Friday night came the Sprint TT. I wondered how'd I'd do. In the qualifier, i knocked on the door with a first place finish. In the finals I sprinted like a low grade, narcolepic juggler and left it on the table with a 3rd place. I was not forced into making up stories to my teammates for my failures, however I will say that when I start touching 40 mph in a sprint, i get light headed and sometimes i've seen jerry garcia. I don't even know what crack rocks look like, but i definately feel like i've smoked a couple

After That:Saturday was firmly lodged in Friday night's pocket so I was sitting on the trainer warming up while insulting my teammates and watching El Presidente taunt us with crispy cream donuts. He's a cruel cycling director and normally tells me that i'm doing "FILL IN THE BLANK" wrong, but he's a funny guy and a pretty good friend whose new training methodology has become -- "anti-training...
it's the opposite of training.......reverse psychology....
it's the latest thing..like training with power but not." I would like to take credit for that bit of comedic knee slappage, but those were El Presidente's exact words. Oh ya, the crit...came close to crashing out, stunk up the place, DNF...that's right I said it..DNF sucka! I've done it before and just might not do it again because if I don't win races, then I don't pay for them and this whole hobby gets expensive dang it. somebody pass me the EPO.

Next Slide:Sunday was fantastic as they all are!

CLICK CLICK:Monday-Yoga

Play BALL!:Tuesday-tried to go to Orr, didn't have my helmet, went to the group ride, they left when i showed up(fear that i'd hammer them to pieces), ended up riding up to some guy who attempted to drop me. what the heck. are you serious? you trying to drop a guy on a climb who:

a) rides it all the time

b) is ticked off that he DNF on Saturday

c) is hungry, and moody

d) is listening to "AFI" or "the Darkness" or "Shakira" or whatever it was that I forgot to erase off my IPOD before heading out..>ARRGGHH!!!!

So, I showed him what few people get to see...my butt, as I rocketed by him...taking back position of the poka-dot jersey...and what little pride I had left. SUCKA!(eric please place that on my review)

*julian left in sudden haste. he found a prime opportunity to run out of work while no one was looking...he'll finish this thing later.

food hangover

there are no words in the english language to describe what happened today around 8:10pm. That's why I would rather refer to the Spanish Language here: el estómago me odia.

I have told you in the past that I am actually legend at Monta Albon of Franklin, NC. I showed the establishment what it means to eat with no conscience and cry for mercy on the last bite. They respect me there. I thought after leaving work tonight that I should add to the legend. I felt like Micheal Jordan when he came out of retirement. Why not try to win another championship. Why not try to eat the BIG MAN'S COMBO...one more time...and do it for Al Gore. That's right, I dedicate what happened to Al Gore, and Tipper while I'm @ it. And why you might ask? The answer is clear...I'm so delirious from the amount of food I've eaten and is still lodged in my esophagus, stomach, colon, liver, kidney and every other major organ, that those are the first 2 names that came to my mind. It's funny the clarity you get when your body can no longer perform regular duties. My brain is concentrating only on keeping my heart beating and my fingers typing. Allow me to recount what happened between 8:10pm and 8:33pm. We went and got right to ordering...no hesitation. When I say we, I mean your stuff narrator and my faithful eating accomplice, Brownie. When I arrived the waiter new what I was there there for. I ordered in English, and he persisted until I finally spoke to him all in Spanish. It was like Spanish 101 in college when the teacher knew it was too early to ask you what you ate last night in Spanish, but they just kept on until you said, "Soy un caníbal. Comí a mi compañero de apartamento. ¿Está contentos con usted esa respuesta?" Anyways, I took the privaledge of ordered for both of us like we were on a date, but that's only because I did not want Brownie to have the opportunity to back out. That is when Eric told me that the last time he attempted to eat this meal and failed that he ended up on the toilet for 3 hrs, and numb. I told him to head down power through(K that was for u!) Real men vomit on themselves, wipe it off and ask for desert. We went did a couple of breathing exercises and talked about the good times in case we didn't make it back from this adventure. Eric puked himself 3 times in fear. I told him not to fear the BIG MAN COMBO, but instead to embrace it. Every time the kitchen door swung open, I could feel my heart race out of pure fear. The food came, and we took the regular photos and signed the restaurant wavers. So many men have fallen when they took this meal on that most don't want to tangle with it. The other restaurant attendants quickly grabbed their kids and ran out. It was like watching a gun fight. I went right in. I ate the first plate and only blacked out twice. Eric said that I was convulsing...but I feel like that's just useless chatter, ya know. After the first plate my left arm was definitely numb, but that's the price you pay for being a high class athlete(this might not be the time to mention that I have a TT tomorrow night, and a Crit on Saturday). Eric soon caught up after we had the medic take a listen to his vitals. He said that he had a 50/50 chance of not pooping his pants, so we continued. We lost the ties, and kept working through. You know that feeling that you get when you've been on the merry-go-around for about 2 hrs...yes, well if you say yes, then we probably need to talk about what the heck you are doing on one of those for that long. In fact, what are you doing on one at all. What's wrong with you? Those are for little kids...wait...back to the story. Anyways, Eric remarked that he would just eat it as fast as he could, and that he thought he might just pour water out onto the rest and drink it. It was not a bad idea, so I just grabbed the Salsa and did...well you see the picture. It was about that time that I realized that I still had to ride the bike tonight with some hard efforts...I also realized that I'd have to throw the bibs away after I was done. Eric came up on the home stretch on plate #...heck I don't know...who knows...I lost vision in my right eye after the salsa shooter. I'll admit before it gets out that Yes, I did start crying mid meal, and Yes I did pee myself. But, geez, I've done it on the bike anyways. I figure it's all fair game. I'm a guy, and we're built for this stuff. We are naturally loosely fit together compulsive idiots, and thoughtful metro just ain't me baby! Eric has 30% his plate left and he dry heaved. And his hands started to shake. He called this shaken baby syndrome. I noticed that his tint was now a little yellow in his face. Apparently he was backing up. It's sad watching a horse race when the horse breaks his leg, and you know...well you just know that it's dogfoodville for the old boy. Take old yeller out behind the shed kids. It was about that time that I started to buckle under the pressure as well. I saw the sun, and felt like my internal organs were trying to play musical chairs in my body cavity. You might think that this blog is a bit much, rehearsed, or maybe played up, but people...we took one for the sake of another victory for the mantle. Even though I was on the verge of giving it all back to the plate, I thought I better ram as much in my mouth as I could while my brain was not looking...ahh yes, i'm a smart boy. After much pain, doubt, shouting and yelling matches about how we did not come this far to turn back, talk about how we are not quitters, and about how some day we'll be in the history books for the 2 guys who ripped a whole in their stomach linings with one meal, we succeeded in destroying TWO BIG MAN COMBOS. Write it down, talk about, make a movie, draw pictures of us, shake our hands, build small monuments to capture the moment, don't worry about the pictures cause we have that handled, call us, congratulate us, sing songs of encouragement, dance around us, pat us on the back, call us champions, and hold our puke pans because in the 2nd Annual Running of the BIG MAN'S COMBO CHALLENGE, we proved to be more than mere small framed skinny kids who ordered the largest meal in Franklin, NC as well as the best thing that our corporate expense accounts could afford, we showed the world that the thought of having your stomach pumped, getting the shakes, staying up all night long in the bathroom with the latest copy of Velo News, having to have CPR done on us multiple times during the meal to survive was not only a necessary challenge, but it was history. Now, how many 168lb sprinters can do that? Hey, seriously if you know a few who can...don't tell me, i'd like to keep my ego right where it is until I go to the bathroom.

credit card purchases require a $10 purchase, slicker

since i'm from a town so small that it cannot be viewed under a microscope, i tend to refer to myself as 'from the country.' i've always found this to make it easy for folks in places like Franklin, NC to relate to a person like myself. i also find that my brown skin tends to be a bit of a distraction in this part of the country...imagine that.

Wednesday Night/Monta Albon/This set the record for the second time...notice, I gets down in the tie.

In this town where high society means that you use a napkin, and not your sleeve, we have been doing some training for the good folks here @ COMPANY XYZ(protecting the innocent of course). After some mild talk about random things not to be discussed nor to be alluded to nor to be thought about or even for others to imagine *we put down some Mexican food. I currently am the record holder for food there. They say no man has ever eaten the BIG MAN'S COMBO except yours truly, weighing in at a firm 168 lbs. (*we=the main[you may remember his antics from the coffee shop 360 dunk], brownie, myself) Apparently, the ladies in Franklin are quite fond of 'the main.' But, I know that most of these women have not seen city slickers like ourselves on a regular basis, and feel no attraction at all to 'the main' but merely wonder if these are the metro types that they've seen on tv. Spiked hair and designer jeans don't really fly here in the sticks. After my intestines had been rocked at the infamous Willy's BBQ joint, i filled them full of Mexican delights, and decided to call it a day after some normal email checking and taking time to make fun of brownie.
Day 2 brought the beautiful view of the misty mountain view outside the hotel. The mountains look glorious(insert the quote from Old School..."I see Blue, he's glorious). I think I even saw a billy goat in the distance, galloping across the plane, and 5 gentlemen dressed in camo shooting round after round of shotgun slugs at the young mammal, while screaming.."squill liikee uh pigg boooyy wheeewwww!!! I did notice that every phase up here ends in "BOY" or "GETRDUN" or "YOU AIN'T FRUM AROUND HERE R U BOY?" or "YOU BETTER GET OUTTA HERE WITH YOUR FANCY TIES, AND FAST TALK" and I even heard, "WE'RE GONNA KILL YOU." I exaggerated on the last one, but because every time I get in the elevator with a female, she pulls the alarm, and yells "please don't hurt me" I get the feeling that my time is limited. It has become more annoying than anything...the constant "don't hurt me" gets old. Heck, I went to pour a little milk over my cereal, and in the distance out in the parking lot, I hear a chic yell, "STOP HARRASSING ME" and all she saw was the back of my head. The popular dining does center around places like Shoney's known for their fine dining, and recent lack of cockroaches. The gas stations here prefer cash or bartering with chickens and goats to the ole plastic magic. I feel like today brownie and I were tricked into buying $10 worth of groceries at the TEXACO just so we could use the plastic. Oh well, no better time than the present to stock up on vita-water..right??

There are several other drinks in the car...believe me.

Nothing else can be said. We are about to go eat more food. I don't know from where. One of the locals said he would kill us some good eatin. We take that to be a good thing. He did ask me how much Brownie weighed and if I'd ever dun any chicken fight'n. I gotta go run to the porta john because I'm about to sprint a leak of pure vita-water...

I truly apologize if this blog was a little bland, but I'm in Franklin folks. It's a great place to ride my bike, but I wouldn't want to live here just to bring the minority population up to .0483%.

TPS reports #2

sometimes you just want to stand up, go over to the guy in the cube next to you, rip his keyboard out of the back of his computer, get right nose to nose with him and tell to stop typing so dang loud because even though he might think you are hard of hearing, the blood coming from your ears from the constant pounding on multiple keys to get to the letter "A" should be a clear sign that the banging sound is just plenty loud enough....you'd like to gift wrap him a copy of Mavis Beacon's typing basics for beginners and take it up to him with a Santa clause suit on, and tie a big stocking around his neck and ram it in there until he starts to cough...walk over to the color printer, and pour the day old coffee and filter that none one wants to change under the hood, and set it for 4000 copies, just to scare the printer into believing that it's actually going to have to do some work, and upon this news, it will likely throw up some wacky excuse of an error which no one has even seen before...then slap the know it all chic in the office in the back of the head and tell her that "unexcusableness" is not a word, take her granola bar, slam it all into your mouth and spit it out onto her desk and form it into a little miniature snow man...then turn the lights off while exclaiming, "WE'RE ONLY SAVING THE COMPANY MONEY!"...go upstairs to the roof, and walk straight over to the edge and jump....i don't mean jump just straight down, i mean jump way out like as if to try to make gravity mad that you would use this kind of defiant force. then instead of landing on your feet and shattering every bone in your legs, attempt to land on your side so that you have a chance to practice the 'stop drop and roll' technique....after you realize that you've only broken your left foot, and yes...for you bball players...this is going to create a small problem...you pull out your Motorola Q, and go to yahoo finance to see that regardless of all your wreckless actions, you didn't influence the stock market one point...and then you realize that stocks & options(puts) are about as good of an idea as it was for you to dress up like Santa. that's corporate america in a nutshell. but we all work here because it pays well and it gives us a nice opportunity to complain, drink coffee, illegally trade stocks, make paper airplanes, imitate our bosses, make noises during meetings, randomly blurt random phrases during conference calls and not answer the "WHO KEEPS DOING THAT!" question, sneak out after only 10 hours of work, secretly wear birks because they look polishable, eat $30 worth everytime on the company tab...and if you really eat $14- you go ahead and offer up the $16 tip...you gotta help the GDP anyway you can, dream about free market capitalism, hack through the firewall for websites that pertain to funny stuff, go out of your way to waste time which normally backfires into more work, point out the kissups, and intentially leave the old coffee in the pot so some wacko will eventually lose it on a friday when the stock market goes bad and watch them tear the office up in a rant, go up the roof and jump off. well, it's 3:30pm, i'm sneakin out! Eric put that on my review.

TPS reports #1

the title of this blog is to confuse those who stroll by the screen to assume this is just another useless, worthless, money well...not so well spent, mindless, tiresome report sent out to managers so that they can either delete it, open it, so that they can say they opened it before deleting it, or give them something to do to fill up their worthless corporate day full of fake talking, coffee drinking, micromanaging, worthless forwards, and waiting for the boss to go home so that they can jet down to the parking deck and bolt home so that they can start doing what they love to do...nothing.

anyways...this is the first part of a many part series because...well because i'm working.

let's concentrate on a dunking that occurred at the coffee shop. Main(that is his last name to protect the innocent) went into one of the Asheville Starbucks(by McDonald's), hoping to pick up a little cafe for himself and his bros. It would be the most self demoralizing, depressing, and debasing moment of his young, recently engaged life. Stepping to the counter in an obvious cloud of "chest puffed outness," he ordered what he though would impress the crowd, and secure him a spot on the Starbucks wall of fame. He uttered, "I'll have a halfcalfmocalattejimmycrack with no caf" or something like that. I'm not really sure what happened to him. It appeared by all accounts to be an out of body experience because after he utter the last words out of his lips, he fainted. Upon pulling himself off the floor his joyous, prideful triumph was interrupted by the powerful hand of STARBUCKS 101: coffee lingo. I personally would like to call what happened a slam dunk. The coffee representative behind the desk respectfully, yet with great force let Main know that he was a total idiot. She also made him feel like a two year old kid at a TWO year old kid kicking contest. He was told that such a coffee drink did not exist, and that he needed to refer back to a coffee manual, or just order a hot chocolate like the other 'big boys.' Sorry Main better stick to Folgers.

unlucky #4

2:38 am:4/5/07: I was rolling across 40W to my home away from home, Asheville, NC. Most people who might have seen me would say I was only 20% asleep. Now, mind you, this is a great improvement from my normal 44% AOTHWDCALTM frequency, AKA, Asleep On The Highway While Drinking Coffee and Listening to Music. It was about the 2nd hour of my trip as I topped black mountain, as I remember I had just adjusted the dial on Sirius radio over to 90’s alternative(apparently I’m stuck in the 90’s time warp, that’s not to say that I don’t like recent stuff, but most of the punk rock now kinda stinks…I mean who wants to listen to some 16 year old kid cry about how his dad does not like him because he made a bad grade on his report card…do they still have report cards, and about how his backpack is too heavy, so now he’s gonna run away and start a rock band, and date some chic that’s 14 so eventually he can end up in jail when her mother finds out that he’s a little punk kid who did not even get his GED, and cannot even spell the word “kat.” And rail on and on in the high pitched non-developed voice as he expresses his deepest desire to turn his terrible, $9K/yr private school attending, 2007 E series Mercedes convertible driving, suave spiked hair done @ the salon of course, D&D boxer wearing life into something because apparently he thinks it’s nothing. That was not a knock on Good Charlotte) , i think i fell asleep for about 5 minutes, and then had a glance at the highway, and there it was...

There are 4 very notable bunnies that come to mind around this time of year->
1)Bugs Bunny
2)Easter Bunny
3)Monty Python Bunny
4)unlucky #4

1)Bugs Bunny is quite the clever fellow. He's tricky, you know. He dresses up like random people...come to think of it he lies a lot, back stabs, double crosses, politics, and high kicks most everyone. It's strictly pie in the face antics for this guy. He's never been beaten, boiled in a pot, or chased down in a break. Dang, I bet he's good on the bike. Imagine this guy in a sprint.

2)Do you still believe in this guy? Who does? A big life size bunny that runs around hiding eggs is absolutely, well it's insane. Let's think this thing through, a large mammal...Life size...come bolting in your yard, leaving eggs that he's obviously stolen from someones chickens...whose chickens...and hey guess what, they are NOT free range. I know this guy, we've had conversations, talked about life, he doesn't recycle...what a waste. At any rate, so now you have a bunch of eggs hidden in your yard, some still contain baby chics. yeah that's nasty, but that's how this cat rolls. And, let's just come totally clean while we're on the topic, it's a guy in a big bunny suite. Yea, sorry to remove the wool from your eyes on this. It's a 45 year old man with a mustache thick enough to catch 65% of the milk you'd drink in a 32 oz container. Notice...I didn't say soy milk because this fellow takes it vitamin D all the way. Now, you think about it, there's a 45 year old guy who single, with a mustache, prancing, TIP TOE-ing around your yard, putting eggs all over the place will he lights up another Newport menthol. At what point should you lock the door and hide the kids. Eggs don't come naturally colored, so you go ahead and figure out how they get that way.

3) This guy is so dangerous. Have you ever seen a bunny willing to jump from person to person slaughtering innocent knights on their quest for the grail? Blood was flying everywhere, guts, and flesh whipped all over the camera lens. He had big teeth that...look at the bones!

4) now, for the guy who just was trying to get to the other side. this is a shame. most bunny's don't lose sprints. but when you're competing with a burgundy civic...no chance. especially when the guy who hasn't posted a win since this time last year is challenging. That's right. I took him out. I don't like to lose. I've beaten small children in pee-wee basketball. I've dunked on them, blocked them, hand checked, poked, jabbed, and even completed triple-doubles by yanking down 35 rebounds...most of which happened because I jerked it out of their grubby little sweaty palms during a moment of their obvious stupidity and anxious desire to outshine me. That's a giant mistake. Did I mention that i dogged 13 kids at a skating rink once, I took them from the start; I felt no need to wait for the sprint. That's how I work. Oh wow, yes, back to the bunny. This guy came bolting across the street. I think the civic hit him with the left and right wheels. !!BooBump!! *that was the sound it made.
I would say that in the moment I took time out for a silent moment. You know, a moment of silence for the fallen, yet brave and daring bunny, that thought it nothing to take on a civic in the middle of the night...but then again, I decided, as my empathy button had been pushed and some weird emotion was coming over me, that I come to win. Sorry about his luck. You know the score. Bunny=0, jrob=1. Eric, put that on my review.