Back!

“Where is Woody” seems to be the theme of many posts and comments on this blog by both of the loyal readers (thanks Al and Fred for you obvious concern). Well he is right here, sitting in front of this fad called a computer for the first time in a month. During his absence, Wood has traveled to Glacier NP, Yellowstone NP, Grand Teton NP, Lake Tahoe and Southern California. While each of these magnificent places will leave a lasting impression in the tiny cranium of Heywood, he only chooses to bore you with the details of the time spent with Moveitfred.

As was mentioned in earlier post, Moveitfred was flying out to California with family in tow to visit Heywood and Company. The plan was for Wood and Fred to explore the roads and trails around Auburn and Lake Tahoe while atop a biciclete. Within a few hours of his arrival to Casa de Wood, the two headed out on the skinny tire bikes for a short 15 mile ride though some of the mountainous covered roads neighboring God’s Country. The blacktop was smooth and steep, temps were ideal, and the traffic was minimal. Not bad for day one in Cali. The days to follow can only get better.

Early next morning the whole family was awake bright and early. “Ready to hit some of the local trails Freddy?” asked Wood.
What Wood heard next was “Blah, blah, blah, my vagina is swollen, blah, blah, hurts too, blah, blah, can’t go for a ride, blah, blah, blah.”

Fred tends to complain about the topography in Long Island as well as the weather. It’s to flat, no good trails, it to humid, etc…. So now he flies across this vast country and finds himself next to some of the most excellent trails ever formed and he pulls the pussy-card out. Al, what have you New Yorkers done to my friend Fred? I want him back.

After camping in Lake Tahoe, the whole gang headed down to Southern California to enjoy the babes, beer and sand.

As long as Jablome has been friends with Fred, Fred has always been very mild tempered and level headed. He has never shown much aggression towards anyone. This was about to change.

Fred and Wood found themselves waiting at a stoplight on PCH with a few other cyclists, two of which were riding those Tri/Fag bikes that Al rides. With an elitist attitude, these two wannabe triathletes looked back at Fred and Wood and scoffed at there meager existence and spectacle of traditional road bikes. When the light turned green, the tri/fag/letes clipped in, put their heads down, and proceeded to ride away from the bicoastal boys as they leisurely clipped in to their pedals. The mere sight of these tri/fags leaving the boys behind must have causes some synapse in Fred’s brain to misfire. With no hesitation, Fred put the HAMMER DOWN! As the boys pulled along side them at 25 mph, the fag’s tongues were hanging out while gasping for air. When the boys started to pass them at 27 mph, the fags were being put in to serious difficulty. And while blowing them away at 29 mph, the fag’s only option was to pull over, tuck their dicks between there legs, and bang their fist on the ground. For whatever reason, Fred unleashed a beast inside that Wood never knew he possessed. Fred had a smile from ear to ear for the rest of the ride.

So yes, this past month has been great with all the vacations. But the best part was just visiting with Fred and Family for a couple of weeks.

arous-AL

Heywood's Absence Has Aroused the Interest of His Friends

Heywood: We're worried. Are you still with us? We all want to know.

Teaser

Moveitfred has just returned from an extended vacation in Cali with the venerable Heywood Jablome, and, oh, the things to report. But Moveitfred is just too sleepy right now to contribute even the slightest creative mirth, but he does have the energy to post one classic shot of the predatory Woodrow bearing down on some poor, unaware Cali hottie who was hoping to simply spend a leisurely afternoon cruising the coastline with her legs wrapped around a beach cruiser. But the powers of Jablome were too strong. Heywood had the freakin' Star Wars tractor beam dialed to full power. Hottie had no chance...

Moveitfred just has to say: it gets so fucking tiresome riding with Heywood Jablome when he continually calls out his name over and over and over again along the coast, always within earshot of some hot female ass. It's like an unending Tourettes outburst. Sheesh.

And by the way, who the FUCK wears Von Zipper chick glasses on a bike ride anyway?

Oh, and Al--what the hell with the gay freeride vid? 'Tis the season, holmes. Word on some cross crashes and clown music.

Cyc-AL

Well, it was back to the Salt Mines for Fred and Al today. Fred and Al have committed themselves to much Sound and Fury signifying nothing this year. The goal is to appear busy / productive while slipping out for epic rides. On this front, Fred is scoping out a new cross course on the back 40 of the mine property, and Al has committed to building PVC barriers for Fred's new cross course.

Fred-O traveled to work on his Zancanoodle today, giving Al his first up close and personal with the custom rig...sweet ride, Fred-o. All this makes Al yearn for the upcoming cross season and the MTB fun that will follow in short order. But first...one more tri to do. A sprint on 9/16. Fun, fun , fun.

BTW, who the fuck is Heywood?

mich-AeL

Another installment in AL's sport gone wrong series...plus a little something for you cooking enthusiasts.

Here's a great column by Dan Wetzel on a bird that ain't gonna be flying for quite some time.



And since we're on the topic of birds that don't fly...

post-AL

Everyone is so fucking sensitive. I mean, you get a little fired up during a ball game, hit a couple motherfuckers with a bat, and BOOM! You're off to jail.

Jose Offerman, of the L.I. Ducks these days, put a bat upside a few opponents heads after getting plunked. Seems fair to me. I mean, you hit me with a ball, I take a bat to yo' ass. (Remember Sean Connery's character in the Untouchables? "...Capone's guys put one of your men in the hospital. You put one of his in the morgue!") What's the problem?




What happened to the good old days? 8/22/1965: Juan Marichal clubs John Rosenboro upside the motherfucking head in a Giants/Dodgers game at Candlestick...

Juan Marichal getss suspended for nine days and fined $1,750.

mediev-AL

This was just too good to pass up. Ving Rhames' dogs got a little medieval on a brother's ass...






Man Fatally Mauled By Dogs At Ving Rhames' House

(CBS) LOS ANGELES Police say a man has been fatally mauled at the Brentwood home of actor Ving Rhames.

The man, an employee of the 48-year-old actor's, apparently was hired to take care of Rhames' property and his four bull mastiffs.

It is unclear how many of the dogs were involved in the mauling but all four have been taken into custory by Animal Control.

TMZ.com is reporting that Animal Control was called to the property at 7:15 a.m. and found a black male, 40, deceased, on the front lawn.

They also reported that Rhames, a 2-time Golden Globe winner, is out of town.

dors-AL

A l'il somthing for Solo

This post should be filed under "Nothing to do with anything 'cept ass." Solo was pissing about the fat guy pics. Don't say I never did anything for you, Solobreak.

dism-AL

Al Vents About Big Head Barry and another Fucking BOMB

Maybe it's just me, but I can shake it. I admit it. I'm fucking depressed by Barry-Big-Head-Bonds breaking Aaron's record. I shouldn't give a shit. I should just walk away and forget it like everyone else. But it sticks in my craw. I have to say it: FUCK BARRY!

Since I heard the news, I've stayed at home, eating comfort food and bon bons.



And now, I just want to cry, cry cry.

leth-AL weapon 2

Fuck Freddie, I'm

leth-AL

Moveitfred Kicks Ass!

Moveitfred has been on "the program" for a few months now.

Once y'all get on "the program" the greatest cycling team in the world comes knocking.

Moveitfred fahking kicks ass now!

Can you say Podium Girl Smorgasbord?

leth-AL

Used Bike Shorts

Freddy is busy packing his overnight duffel in preparation for a rip-roaring visit with none other than Heywood Jablome out in The Promised Land later this week.

Moveitfred is gettin' all tingly about his upcoming travels and the chance to spend some quality time with HJ.

Wouldn't you?

Wood has promised to take care of the grossly misproportioned Moveitfred by setting him up with some oversized steeds for riding. Wood also promised to outfit Moveitfred with helmet, pedals, and...gulp...some of Woodrow's castoff bike shorts.

Here's a recent photo of Wood and some of his NorCal buds after a particularly rousing bout of something they like to call "criterium tag."


Uh...y'know what Heywood, Moveitfred will bring his own bike shorts.

cath-AL-ic girls

LONDON (AFP) : Queen Elizabeth II's eldest grandchild could lose his place in the line of succession to the British throne if he marries his Catholic fiancee, newspapers reported Friday.

Citing sleuthing work by Catholic weekly The Tablet, newspapers said Peter Phillips' Canadian fiancee Autumn Kelly, 31, was baptised as a Catholic in Quebec. !!!!!!!

Bring It The F On

tentac-ALS

Wherein Al reports on the Lumpy Pancake Olympic Triathlon and tells all about getting stung by a fucking jellyfish

Yesterday was tough. It was terribly hot. At Seven in the AM, it was already well into the upper 80s and VERY HUMID!



There was some delay to start the swim. First, there was some discussion about the course marking. Next, there was some discussion, it seemed, about a passing wave of jellyfish. Both these points would prove important later. We began the swim, though, without incident.




Somewhere mid swim two things happened. 1) I realized that Stevie Wonder had marked the course. I was at the midway buoy and the course was swimming VERY LONG. There was a good deal of current, so I wondered if it just felt long. (Fighting current can be a real slow, grueling bitch.) But, post race, all Olympic competitors I spoke to said the same thing: "LONG!" 2) About 200 yards after midway, I felt something strange on my face, in my mouth. It was a squishy something. I pushed it away and noticed many other squishy somethings--jellyfish. I kept swimming, reasoning that the faster I was through them the better. I almost made it. I suffered one minor sting on the upper arm and neck. The suit protected me from the rest. The sting was annoying and a bit painful, but I was able to continue on without difficulty.

We transitioned to bike and I got going cleanly. I moved ass out of the water and got to my bike expeditiously. I ripped off the suit and got the shoes on quickly. I did not use the "shoes clipped in method." Instead, I ran in my shoes and clipped in as I pulled past the "mounting zone." All was smooth, and I was out on the road.






Have I mentioned that it was hot as a pair of balls? The bike was pretty flat except for one long, steep climb. And there was little wind. So the course wasn't very challenging in those ways. But it was brutal. The sun beat down and there was no air. A couple of notes: the course leader wiped out on the downhill. It was a very fast, steep section with a sharp turn to it and some road hazards--a rough section and an uneven manhole cover. I heard he went down here. I also heard he was taken away on a stretcher. I saw the ambulance. But I did not see the wreckage nor any EMTs at work. From the bike I transitioned cleanly to the run, grabbing a few gels, slamming on a cap, stowing the bike, slipping on the shoes. Then I was pounding the pavement...





The heat was ON! It was so humid and sweltering that runners were staggering and dropping. I saw several more ambulances along the route and heard of a "cross the line and drop" finisher who was scooped up and taken away. Gels and gatorade kept me upright, though. And I dumped a sea-ful of H2O on the ole noggin. I crossed the line in 2:54.09, and BOY was I glad to be done. I came in 70th overall, 55th among men, and 12th in the 35-40 Men bracket. I'm still re-hydrating and, needless to say, feeling a bit like hammered shit. But I'm a good deal better than poor Al K. He DQd in the swim when he stopped and swam ashore to get out of his wetsuit (it was WAY too warm for the full suit he had on). To add insult to injury, someone swiped the suit from where it lay on the beach. Poor fucker.

farcic-AL

Professional Sports Is a Joke

As the laughingstock that is the TdF confirms, cycling is a joke. And Bonds' quest for the final two homeruns to topple Aaron speaks volumes about the sham that is baseball. Bball is running for cover in the wake of this latest point shaving scandal. And don't say anything about football or Vick will bury you with one of his pitbulls. So let me ask you this, can anyone think of a worse time in professional sport? I mean, there have been terrible incidents--Black Sox, Ali banned, Festina etc. But have there been worse, across the board, times? July may well go down in history as the worst month ever for professional sport in the good ole U.S. of A.

And to top it all off, I've got a fucking head cold and a big event Sunday. But my Mets have come out of their slump after all star break, so it ain't all bad. Maybe they're on the Homer-diet.

Yummy

Dinner time.

heterosexu-AL

Al tires of the fat guy on the beach pics and the puny, fag cyclist photoshop fun. Here's a little something for the hetero males still in attendance.

Maybe...

Levi knows that 4th is good for the win this year?

sniff.....

Oh Vino. Oh dear. We wanted to believe you could fly, crash, and fly again....

Kisses!

Disco Inferno

Somebody needs to beat the shit out of Levi on Tuesday night. Rough him the fuck up, old school style with metal pipes and boot leather to the chin. Get him all beat up and pissed.

It's Wednesday or nothing to slay Hematopollo, and Levi's the guy who's got to put his balls on the spit and go down in flames so Contador can win.

For ONCE Levi needs to go on the attack early and often and blow down in flames on the last climb. Give Contador a chance to really attack early against a tenderized bird.

FUCK 4TH PLACE, LEVI! GO DOWN BLOODY AND SCREAMING! PLUMMET DOWN THE GC! SLAY THE CHICKEN!

Beach Rules

Welcome to this installment of Moveitfred's Beach Rules. Moveitfred and family spent a lovely weekend lounging at the local town beach here on the beautiful north shore of Long Island, and Moveitfred would simply like to pass along a few tips for those of you intent on spending any amount of time in a pleasant, sandy locale this summer.


Here is a lovely shot of the beach this past Sunday. Here on the beautiful north shore of Long Island we tend to get a pretty benign crowd of well-educated, family-centered, well-mannered white people out at the beach.

Here you can see one of the reasons for the banality: ankle-high surf ripping onshore from Long Island sound.

Rad.

Oh, what the fuck. At least we're not in Kansas. And the south shore beaches have some good breaks...

But back to the north shore and this pleasant community beach. OK people, even if you are just going down to your local watering hole and it's, y'know, no big deal 'cause it's only a few miles from your house and if you forget something you can just go home and get it, still please avoid a few common mistakes.

First off. People: the paddleball game is no fun. Even the raddest paddleboarders only hit the ball twice--a serve and return. Then the ball zips over someone's head or skitters onto the sand. End of round. Who cares? Is there any way to keep score? To win? Fuck paddleball.

Here you can see bleached white Ric Ocasek dude (fuck, man, it's the end of July! First day out in the sun?) playing a rousing game with his mildly hot cousin.

Just keep that paddleball shit away from Moveitfred.

Now Moveitfred appreciates the attempt at cool beach activity from this dad. See, he went over to Dicks with his tax return, waved that check in the manager's face, and said "Me and my boy want to kayak!"

As you can see he's got the full-blown kayak kit workin' the beach: from aqua shoes to neoprene gloves.

I'm sure this is great family fun, but please take part in this activity in the back bays away from Moveitfred. It disturbs Moveitfred when you beach your plastic craft and drag it along the rocky shore. The noise is horrific. Plus, this getup has got to result in some very un-rad tan lines.

Next. People, don't bring cheap lawn furniture to the beach. Any chair woven in Mexico by child labor needs to stay in the garage at home. Also, consider the patterns you will embed into your fat backs when you get up.

No, there are chairs designed for beach sitting. Purchase a couple.

Skin cancer is not cool. If your one of those pussies who is all jacked up with fear over the UVA and B's messing with your inherently beautiful skin, then get yourself an umbrella. Just don't purchase overstock from Circus Vargas. You don't want children clamouring for the elephants and clowns.

OK, we got a few things going on here. First, Rick and his hot little minx cousin are still playing the fucking paddleball.

But more importantly, people--tuck in your strings. Such a simple thing to do that will make a world of difference.

You may be saying to yourself, "But Moveitfred, I'm not a beach person." OK, OK, we can't all be rad like Moveitfred. Take this gruppetto. First, cut out the depressing goth look. Save the black shit for when playing D&D with your friends while listening to old Manson records.

The boardshorts are mildly cool on this dude, but pair those bad boys with a matching T if you've got the layered skin look working on your backside.

This kind of shit also disturbs Moveitfred and makes him throw up a little bit in his mouth.

Moveitfred hopes you are feeling a little better about your beach experience now. One final examination. Below we see somewhat of a rare sight along the sedate north shore beaches: the Long Island Douchebags. Normally one would find these specimins closer to the city, say adjacent to Massapequa or some such locales. But occasionally the tide shifts and these scrotes wash up just about anywhere.

Notice how the poly athletic shorts are taking on water and slipping into the depths to expose the all-cotton boxers. Now that's a comfy wet combo. Douchey Vincent on the right is trying to talk his younger cousin Richie into getting some Jesus bling and matching tats.

Here the two Douchies are joined by a third scrote and are being pulled toward Queens at low tide.

About 50 more miles, UberDouches....

OK, Moveitfred is tired. He would just like to close with a request. Please, purchase yourself a surf mag, educate yourself on the culture, and come prepared. Moveitfred wants you to fit in.

What the?

Suddenly Chicken is one of the top time trialers in the world? WTF? Did he just luck out with dry roads or is there, ahem, something else going on? He looked baked at the end of it all.

Is Levi giving his all and no better than a 5th place rider, or is he saving for something? Shooting par on every stage does not a Tour win. Do that too often and suddenly someone else is leading your team.

Can Vino get back 5 plus mins? That guy's Kazak blood looks boiling mad.

Is Evans the real deal? He seems to be having more success playing the Levi game.

Will Sastre and Mayo pop off some big days in the mountains? What the hell, right?

Who the hell is Kashechkin? Another one of those commie goons?

Is Klöden going to win the whole damn thing?

Tune in tomorrow....

Caption Contest

_______________________

Chicken Shit?

From cyclingnews.com:
"Prudhomme informed the press that the Danish federation was unable to find Michael Rasmussen for doping tests on May 8 and June 28, 2007, despite a program in place where riders need to always let the national federations know if they travel and where they can be reached."


Hey, that's one way not to get caught.

bi-AL

Wherein Al Discusses His Training and Upcoming Events (as opposed to Jerk it Fred who discusses his stroke material)

Here's a little bit of coincidence for you:

Yesterday, I was doing a brutal duALthlon in prep for a week from Sunday's Olympic Tri.
The workout consisted of a 20 mile ride--a loop course that I repeated 4 times including 4x up a nice hill in a loop. Then I transitioned to a 5 mile run repeating this same hill 4x again. In the transition, I grabbed 2 lemon/lime power gels and stuffed 'em in my pocket, and pulled my run bottle to rehydrate on the move. It was hot, and I was dry and definitely short on cals (I'd skipped lunch for some stupid reason). Anyway, I sucked down both gels while trotting and choked down some electolyte drink. {An aside about gel...never liked 'em. They have the consistency of toothpaste, and I gag on them in the best circumstances.} As the second went down, I knew I was in trouble. Rumble. Teary Gag. Acid burp. HURL! Mid stride, I spewed the gels roadside.

After a 1/2 mile, I was ok and smiling. Iwas thinking of poor fucking Heywood, the dumbass pedaling up everest and trying to choke down a tuna melt.

Anyway, here's a little something in the run/bike vein:

Thank You For Playing

Moveitfred would like to thank Johnny Applebag for participating in yesterday's quiz. Well Johnny, although you were in the correct ballpark with all of your answers Moveitfred is afraid you were ultimately incorrect. Score: zero.

Sorry Johnny (and all you other readers who Moveitfred is sure have been pondering these questions and formulating answers), the prize for yesterday's quiz will be put back into storage until the next quiz.


Ok, so the answers to the July 18 quiz can be found at Mandy Lozano's blog.


Ms. Lozano has a curtain of hair, a bff named Cara, a modeling career, and a picture of her bruised, bare ass up on the web.


Ms. Lozano can also beat the crap out of all 3 bicoastal boys in a 1 vs 3 sprint.


Ms. Lozano is Moveitfred's new bff.


Al used to be Moveitfred's bff. Al used to post pictures of his ass on the web too. Those were the days.

Quiz for July 18

A) What is this?

B) Who is this?

C) Where is this?

D) Why is this?

Death Ride

First and foremost, Heywood would like to extend his apologies to the few but faithful readers of this magnificent blog for his lack of postings in recent weeks. With the family vacation which Moveitfred described so eloquently, work, and last minute training, he has been blogged down. So here it is.

Last January, Heywood Jablome got some wild hair up his ass and decided add his name to the lottery to the Death Ride. The whole time he was thinking “what are the fucking chances I will get picked anyway.” So Heywood entered his name and his credit card # (4774 5873 9969 8989) on the appropriate line and the registration was complete.

March rolls around and Mrs. Jablome notices an unusual $90 purchase on the monthly statement from the Credit Card Company. “Woody, what did you buy for me that was $90 and where is it?” Knowing full well he bought nothing for the wife, Heywood glanced at the bill and realized that he was screwed. Non-refundable. So his training started that day.

Fast forward a few months and the Death Ride is upon us. On Friday night, Heywood was invited to sleep in a friends RV parked in the dirt lot next to the staging area. Before arriving in Markleeville, CA, rumor was that no one goes to this event anymore because it was too crowded. They were right. One could hardly find a place to park a 40’ house on wheels. After getting settled in, a bunch of riders sat around the RV giving excuses why they may not complete all five passes. Folks, the ride hasn’t even started yet and y’all are spinning the wheel already. Come on. So after Heywood finish his six-pack of beer, he explained to everyone that he drank too much and that he was going to take it easy on Saturday. He then retired to bed.

#$&%%*^*^^%&. At 4:00am (0400 hrs for you military geeks) there was an awfully loud noise coming from the staging area. For some unexplained reason, the organizers of this event like to wake everybody up at 4:00am with extremely loud music.

At 5:30 am Heywood was on the road with bike under him. Monitor Pass was the first two passes to be conquered. The roads on this pass are perfect for a fast descent, allowing for speeds in the 50+ range for almost the entire back side. Next, ride to Ebbetts Pass for the tough third pass. There are a few sections reaching 18 percent causing instant chest pain in all but the most fit riders. The back side of Ebbetts was shorter and seemed to be the easiest of all the passes for Wood. Then, the hilly long ride over to Carson Pass.

Now Mrs. Jablome and Heywood arranged for the Mrs. to have a hearty sandwich waiting for Wood at the staging area. Wood would pick this up while riding past Turtle Rock Road while on the way to the last pass. So Heywood rode past the lunch stop and was salivating thinking of his lunch to come with the Mrs. While approaching Turtle Rock Road, the Mrs. flagged him down and handed him his sandwich. Big, thick tuna sandwich with mayo, cheese, and many more fixings. Only one problem. The Mrs. made this sandwich earlier in the day and decided to let it sit out in the 94 degree heat and rot. On his first bite, Heywood about puked. Nice try, but thanks. On to the final pass with no lunch. This meant that Wood bonked. It took a while but he finally finished Carson Pass. That’s right, ALL FIVE PASSES FOLKS! So there you have it.

Heywood’s friend Michael Rasmussen called him Saturday night to congratulate him on his fine accomplishment. Rasmussen asked for some advice for the next big stage so Wood gave him some tips. Eat early, eat often, and go for the win. Heywood Jablome hopes it works out for him on Sunday.