
While stumbling tonight I think I finally reached the end of the Internet. Yep...
Last Place, Dead F'n Last, DNF!



Leo could quite possibly be the most spoiled dog ever to lick his balls. (oh wait, we had those removed) Anyway, its common knowledge that I reside somewhere around 3.5 on the hierarchy of my household, with the wife taking CEO duties, Leo slotted in at the VP slot at number two, and I’m battling it out with the cats for the third spot. The lovely assortment of treats on my kitchen counter (see above) is not a selection of goodies from grandmas house, but rather Leo’s “treats.” Seems that he has an estranged lover in the form of Cathy’s friend Pat who buys him a menagerie of delectable goodies from the Dog Barkery. Add this to Leo’s collection of dog sunglasses, fashion dog footwear, reflective walking capes, and blinky dog collars, and you have the canine equivalent of Paris Hilton.
That pretty much sums up my weekend on two wheels. Socially it was a blast, including a Christmas party with the wife’s working buds, and a trip to Flat Branch for dinner with my Cousin and his new wife, but any time I threw a leg over the bike, I was stinking it up like a Dirty Jobs episode.
This country is going to the preverbal "Hell in a Hand Basket." Or thats what you'd begin to believe if you only lived by the overwhelmingly negative media that surrounds us. Now dont get me wrong, the US has its problems, but lets get some perspective. Perspective on what your life could look like. And that's just what I got on a very poignant Thanksgiving.



Now I tend to believe that when it comes to beer, I'm little beyond the average guy in knowledge and experience, (I mean heck, I even brew my own spirits for Gods sake) but I've got to admit this a new one on me. Had my mother only been drinking Blatz while "I" was drinking from the tap, maybe I'd have been that doctor or lawyer every mother dreams of.
Just another ride through BOCOMO on a windy cool Sunday. I had visions in my head of something EPIC. You know, the stuff of legends. But it was not to be. At the 3 hour mark, the peanut gallery started to whisper of cold and tired legs, all from some run in costume the day before. No worries. It wont be long now, and the pain train will be pulling away from the station and the real winter training will begin. Will you be on board???