Two days, two new bikes for the Heywood Jablome Household.


Heywood’s new Cross bike. Actually, old steel frame that he took to Steve Rex in Sacramento to weld apparatus for cantilever brakes. All other parts new were found lying around the bike shop. Will ride for first time this weekend at Fred’s place in Long Island.

Wife’s new Cannondale Synapse Carbon 3. 18 lbs with pedals. Sweet rig for the lady.

Race

Last weekend Heywood and his race partner Chitwood participated in an adventure race at Lake Tahoe called Big Blue Adventure. For this 6 – 12 hour race, 57 teams entered. Teams could consist of 2-4 persons or solo if one desired. The weather forecast the night before called for shitty weather with continued shitty weather throughout the day.

While making the drive to Lake Tahoe from Casa de Wood in God’s Country, Chitwood looked out the window and said “not sure how it is going to rain if there is not a cloud in the sky. I can see all the stars Heywood.” Yeah. This was at 5:00 am. The two arrived in Tahoe City and staged there bikes next to the kayak in the transition area and then returned to the start/finish line. Morning temps were pushing the very low 40’s at best when the duo was getting dressed. At 7:00 am, 30 minutes prior to the race start, the organizers handed out to each team the map with all the instructions and coordinates for all the checkpoints that must be reached by each team. Team dumbass (that’s wood’s team) mapped the route they decided to take and was civilly waiting the final five minutes before start time when the weather came ragging down in the form of hail. CRAP! With a shot from a bad 44, the race was on.

First was the run to the kayak in the hail. Then Kayak was supposed to be 8-10 miles to two CP and back to the transition area. This did not work out the way everyone expected. Team Dumbass was almost all the way to CP 1 when the lighting starting striking all around. At this point, the US Coastguard stepped in and turned everyone around. Maybe the idea was to out paddle the storm. This was turning out to be a magnificent Noreaster.

Next, the two jumped on the bike and peddled to the orienteering course. After finding all the orienteering markers even though some where misplaced, they continued trying to locate the remaining 4 checkpoints scattered across the mountains of Lake Tahoe. All this was done while snow, rain, or hail continued to fall from the cloudless sky. Heywood felt like he was training for a cyclocross race on the east coast.

After finding the last CP, the only obstacle that remained was a 1200 foot decent while atop their bikes. As they were screaming down the trail, a large black bear ran directly in front of Chitwood. Chitwood then looked back at Heywood and yelled “BEAR!” While looking back at Heywood for comfort and protection, Chitwood steered his mountain bike right of the side of the trail. This caused a catastrophic crashed that Wood thought would somehow end with Chitwood dying and being eaten by the bear. Amazingly, Chitwood was OK and the two raced to the finish line with no further complications.

Results:
13 of 57 overall
3 of 17 for 2 man teams.
Over 9 hours of frozen misery and fun.

LAAAAAA Ang-ALs

Li'l Something for Heywood

Meg

Clear in her opinions in CX mag.

You get your hands on some of that dough and Woody will figure out how to spend it. He ain't gonna be bringing much new cash to the table horkin' around the 3/4 race on a singlespeed.

Heywood "Singlespeed" Jablome!

Fahking Heywood gonna be

Rockin'

the brand spankin' new Steve Wrecks singlespeed at the arena this weekend!

Photos Wood?

Which way to the podium Wood?

Bring your fast tires and your sprinter's legs Wood.

representation-AL

Wherein AL lists a number of things that suck





1) Fred
2) The Mets
3) The cold I've now got (after a weekend away at a stupid fucking wedding that cost me $1000).
4) The fact that that cold has added "insult" to injury and taken away any thought I had to competing this upcoming weekend.
5) Blogs

The Pink Fairies...

are in!



The other team is....uh....um....

Lesson 1: Style Points

Woody:
Notice how the Treefarm DOES NOT bang his nuts on the top tube on the remount. Notice how he smoothly negotiates the turns before plunging downhill. THIS IS NOT A MOUNTAIN BIKE RACE, HOLMES!

Genesis

When did you first learn to ride a bike?

When did you first learn to shift gears on a 10-speed?

When did you first lose a bike you loved?

When did you first ride around the block just to go by that hottie's house?

When did you enter your first race?

When did you first fail to finish a race?

When did you first realize you love the freedom of two wheels?

When did you first realize you want to make man love to Phil Collins?

Never Forget

Of course we all recall that Carl Douglas rocked the world in 1974 with "Kung Fu Fighting," but what concerns Moveitfred is that we have forgotten that Carl didn't stop giving there. Least we forget, he followed up that chart-topper with even more Kung Fu in 1975:

Dance the Kung Fu!

Pay careful attention to the lyric "Don't fight, Dance the Kung Fu."

Carl was concerned by the outbreak of violent Kung Fu behavior in 1974, especially among the United States and UK youth. Kicks, jabs, chops swept the schoolyards from Pacoima to Putney. The young Moveitfred even fell victim to the hypnotic promise of being "fast as lightning."

But his followup in 1975, Moveitfred believes, was Carl at his best--healing nations. Carl helped us understand that we were not to use Kung Fu to hurt but, instead, to dance.

It was this very week in 1974 when Carl electrified the world with his original hit. Today, Carl is living in Germany where he runs a production company that creates documentary films.

Clearly, Carl is still making a difference.

Moveitfred asks that you remember Carl this week.

communicab-AL

Wherein Al Shares A Message From A Friend

Peptalk For Fred

Intelligab-AL

In Which Al Says, Hmmph, Errr





It is hard, being a hero of the people. There is so much pressure to perform, to succeed, to battle for truth and justice, to stomp Commies. And so it is that I've come to my latest impasse. I just don't know what to do. My thoughts are all jumbled, and I can't make sense of my thinking. Thus I ask you, gentle reader, do I dare to eat a peach?

There's one last sprint tri at the very tail end of the season: The Cedar Beach Sprint Triathlon on 10/7.
There are MANY good reasons not to even think of doing another event this season:

• My calf has only just come back enough from the injury to allow me to run. Can it sustain an intense event like this so soon? Will I re-injur myself?
  
• This week is my first week back to running since my injury. I've been exercising over this last month, but the intensity has been, necessarily, low. Can I get myself even passably ready in a week and a half?
• I've done no road work on the bike over the last month.
• I've done no open water swims in this time frame.
• I've only just gotten back out on the pavement running.
• I own only a sleeveless suit...will I need a ballectomy to get my nuts out of my throat once I exit the icy L.I. Sound?

On the flipside, it's tough to come up with any good reasoning for DOING IT!!! I mean, there is no real point to pushing one more in so late in the season. It won't do anything for me over the long winter .

Well, maybe there is one reason...


It's there!!!!!!!

WTF Moment

So today during Moveitfred Jr's 2nd Grade co-ed soccer game, some kid on the other team scored a goal and ran back to midfield pointing up to heaven.

What the Fahk? One of his homies gunned down recently?

Gave Jr a little advice: next time some kid does that you clothesline the little prick.

You Deserve a Break Today

Moveitfred broke in the cx season at the Hole Shot event (sounds like something Al would like in some other context) this morning in Joisey.



Moveitfred had the Suck Knob turned up to eleven, yet was unexpectedly pleased with his performance. Very well-run event, very fast course, some nasty off-camber bits (especially dodgey during the rain), great venue (and Moveitfred bases this last observation on the fact that the growlers were awesome--many, many toilet options and you could freakin' eat off the floor).

But Moveitfred isn't particularly interested in rehashing some standard race report to bore the masses. There's plenty of other blogs you can visit for that. Or, as Solo recommends, simply go to cyclingnews.com, read a few random articles, and pawn yourself off as an expert on your own blog.

Instead Moveitfred is going to talk about McDonald's.

Not just any McDonald's, but perhaps the most awe-inspiring McDonald's he has ever seen. This McDonald's, my friends, is located off Route 15 in Sussex Co. New Joisey, and it will blow your freakin' minds.

Moveitfred stopped at the Golden Arches on the way home from the race to get a cup of the new and improved McD's joe in order to medicate before the hellish drive back through the NY metro area. He was immediately taken aback by the deep wood grains in the dining area and the--ready for this--immense stone fireplace that graced the wall. Atmosphere alone was a 10.

But there's more.

No, it was standard McD's menu, but what the hell's wrong with that? The Big Mac--a classic. Quarter Pounder w/cheese--meaty, satisfying. Fries--peerless. Sodas--always fresh and bubbly.

What was extraordinary was the men's bathroom. They had installed the FALCON WATERFREE URINAL! Moveitfred has, like you, heard about this technology for years but had never seen it in person. The device was amazing. Allow Moveitfred to explain:

Moveitfred saddled up to the urinal as he has done in the past but right away noticed the suspicious lack of a flushing handle. Moveitfred's curiosity was pinched, and he began looking up, down, around for a way to responsibly get rid of his yellow offal. Nothing. Then he saw the sign posted on the wall for the "Waterless" feature of this device. But Moveitfred couldn't believe this was true. So he pissed mightily, determined to put this technology to the test.

When finished Moveitfred looked down. There sat his piss. In the bottom of the bowl. Just sitting there.

And just like that, it was gone.

Poof!

Gone to who the hell knows where.

Moveitfred is telling you: right here, right now, this is the time to be alive.

Oh, and let Moveitfred now leave you with this short cinematic gem:

rebuildab-AL

In which Al says, EAT THESE NUTS!

There are those who would paint Al as homosexu-AL because he chose to share the tao of Al. There are those who scoff at Al's rehab and recovery. There are those who dismiss Al saying, "he's done." To these people Al says, eat my nuts ya fucks. Al will be back, and he'll be better, stronger, faster.

invincib-AL

Wherein Al Says, "Fuck fred. Ain't nuthin' holdin' this ass down. Even an exploding shark."

inadvisab-AL?

Wherein Al Discusses His Latest "Recovery" Run

While Fred was battling Julio and his vatos...







I was battling my own demons...



Well, I can't speak to the wisdom of my actions, but today I busted out my first road run. Let me set the stage a bit...

If you've been following my torrid tale of injury and recovery, you know that this was the first week in about a month that my calf muscle injury seemed well enough to allow for any sort of running. Tuesday and Wednesday of this week I mixed a one mile treadmill run into my bike and elliptical trainer work. I felt strong on each run and didn't experience pain or soreness after.

Today was a top ten day: brilliant blue skies, no humidity, 80 degrees, light breeze. I had to be outside. I decided to walk a mile on the running path beside Massapequa reservoir and see how I felt. After the mile, I started to run. I'd gauge that I was running 8:45s, but I had no watch (it was a nice, easy trot). I felt great and I justed wanted to keep going. So I banged out 4 miles at this pace, and then I forced myself to quit it. (In truth, I wanted to just keep going.) After the 4 mile run, I walked a mile, stretched, and used my massager on my legs. It was just too good to be true. Hopefully, I didn't overdo it. But I feel good right now.

A note on the watchless running...AL THEORY: When I return to running after an injury or a lay off, I like to really feel what is going on and "learn" what running is for me anew. I don't wear a watch when I'm in re-acquaint mode. And I don't wear any music either. I just want to get out there and hear my footfalls, my breathing, feel my heart and lungs working, see the trail moving beneath me etc. Worrying about time would be ludicrous right now and diversions like music would take me out of the zone (I feel) I should be in at this time.



And that, Grasshopper, is all...

Impenetrab-AL

Wherein Al says, "I Ain't One Of Your Fireman Pals, Heywood. Keep It In Mind When You Venture East!"

unbelievab-AL

Wherein Al Says, "Holy Shit! Heywood and Fred Posted in the Same Month!!!"

Nearly Sweet Revenge

So Moveitfred is on the bicycle commute home from the factory (setting).

He is pulling off his best track stand on the Zank in the left turn lane waiting for traffic to clear (more setting).

Suddenly, from ahead, Vinnie and the Douchebags came squealing at Moveitfred with their POS riceburner on full gas, windows down, barking and drooling obscenities at our hero (inciting incident).


BwaaaaaDaaaaaaaFuckinBrwaaaaaaaaaaaaaAssholeMuthaaaaaaaaaabwaaaaaaaaaaaaa! (colorful detail) .

Amid the commotion Moveitfred unclipped and dabbed a foot down, all the while wishing he hadn't left his Glock on the kitchen table at home (rising action).

But what Vinnie and his douchey friends didn't notice was the red light and stopped traffic rapidly approaching their front grill (more rising action).

The sound of rubber burning pavement began, and Moveitfred turned around to see a full foot-to-the-floor panic fishtail stop. Vinnie ceased forward motion on his POS not more than two inches from the blue sedan in front (climax).

Of course it's inevitable that if contact had occurred there would have been kids in the back seat of the sedan, but hopefully the carload of Scrotal Douchbaggery got a little rattle in the brain from the whole experience (tag/moral).

In other news:

Moveitfred is all reg'd up for some cross in The Garden State this weekend followed by The Two Days of Verveken on Long Guyland followed by some Po-Dunk race up in Mass. Then, who the fahk knows. Woodrow is flying his ass out all the way from Cali to share space with Erwin on LI. Woody is bringing his A+ game so as not to disrespect the course before the big show.

Piece Out

Man Overboard

This past week was a blast for Heywood and friends. He attended the fire department annual abalone trip to Van Damme state park, two miles south of Mendocino, for a week of camping, abalone diving, golfing, mountain bike riding, and massive amounts of alcohol consumption. This trip has been going on for 35 years. A few more years if one were to count the other campgrounds that this group has been asked to leave and never return. Attendance varies from year to year but is usually between 50-60 guys. Many are retired fireman who still are capable of venturing out into the seas and showing the younger guys how it’s done. And as typical, Heywood likes to really get down to nature and rough it.

So while at work on Monday, the day before departure, Heywood along with three other fireman loaded there gear into fireman number 5’s 40 foot diesel pusher/toy hauler. Now Wood is well known for inviting himself into others living space, (thanks Fred, be at your place in two weeks) but this was freaking amazing. He was staying in a mobile mansion. Even had its own garage that was sealed off from the rest of the living quarters. While on the five hour drive up, the visiting four guys played an exciting game of Texas hold’em poker, prepared lunch from the full refrigerator, and ingested numerous cold beers. Wood was even able to lay down during the drive, reenergizing his aging body on a king size bed before arriving at the campground. Now this was the life.

Upon arrival to the campground, Heywood and friends jumped onto there favorite two-wheeled steeds and hit the trails for an invigorating 10 miles. The trail follows the creek for about 2.5 miles with frequent water crossings. Then it is 1.2 miles up a smooth, vertical fire road with large redwood trees providing shade. Once up top, 2.3 miles down on some of the best single track Woody has ever laid eyes on. The trail is flanked by luscious green ferns and gigantic old growth trees as it winds down to the creek. Then, 2.5 miles back along the same creek where spawning salmon can be spotted.

The highlight of the trip was day two for Heywood. 0700 hours, Wood was up and on his way to the harbor with a few other guys. Three boats headed out into the treacherous seas together and went south about 10 miles. This is where favorite fishing spot is located. The only problem was the 8-10 foot swells that continued to rock the boat making fishing impossible while standing. Fish didn’t know the difference and were eager to eat the hooks. Each fisherman landed his limit of 10 rock fish with a few ling cod thrown in the boat. The group decided to go closer to shore and go ab diving. The men from two of the boats decided that diving in these conditions was too dangerous and not worth the risk. Unfortunally Heywood was not on those two boats. He was on the boat with the guy saying “I think we can still do this.” Heywood has no good judgment at all and agreed with the captain of his boat. The two idiots donned there wetsuits and fins, tested their masks, and jumped into the water. Ocean seemed to get worse when the two swam for the rocks. Looked very similar to a washing machine with too much detergent. Visibility was around four feet. Each dive was into the dark abyss. Once the bottom was reached, one would have to grab onto the kelp just to keep from being pushed around by the surge. Hands down, the worst conditions Heywood has ever seen. Miraculously, the two were able to reach there limit of 3 abalone per diver and swam back to the boat which was patiently waiting just off the rocks about 100 yards. Getting into a boat with these large swells was a problem by itself. After returning to the camp, the news was that no else was able to “catch” abalone that day except for the two idiots mentioned above.

Heywood was able to get in a round of golf at the Little River Inn Golf Corse. He teamed up with the right partner and was able to get some cash out of his opponents’ pocket. All said and done, another great trip. Look forward to next year.

first mi-AL

Wherein Al Recounts the Road To His First Mile Back






The last few weeks have been tough ones for Al.
I've been trying to rehab a stubborn calf muscle injury, and it's made me a bit depressed. Each time I tried to extend my rehab beyond simple low resistance spins or light stretching or very light load bearing or mild water therapy, I felt the pull tighten and I suffered several days of setback. Until last Sunday.

Sunday: after 3 and 1/2 weeks of that shit, I needed to try to move ahead. I took a walk. And I managed to go 3 miles at a medium pace. I followed that with a nice long swim and a good stretch / massage session. Sunday evening, I felt great.

Monday: Mondays are the off day for me. I typically do some light lifting / stretching on Monday. Yesterday was no exception. All felt good.

Today: I was ready to go. I went through a warm up spin and then got some stretching and massage in for the calves and legs. After this, I pushed myself a bit more and did an hour long spin with some smallish hills and light interval work (nothing really much beyond my medium pace).

Then it was time. I eyeballed the treadmill. (Still too pussy to take it to the street.) I saw it eyeballing me back, those little red lights flashing back and forth like some malevolent Kit Camaro or a fucking Cylon on crystal meth. "Fuck you," I said. "I'm ready to kick ass and take names.
And that was it. I jumped on and pumped out a single mile. It wasn't anything spectacular (I held myself to one single 9 minute mile). But it is a start.

Word to all y'all: Al is back! (Almost.) He's ready. (Sort of.)

And he's armed.

Just Because

Moveitfred doesn't know what to post to quell the fury of Al, so he'll post this:



A few observations:

1) Contestant #1 in the foreground seems to need a pearl necklace adjustment.
2) Contestant #2 is giving the ol' fake "let me pretend I'm sipping this malt beverage like a good girl." Moveitfred ain't buying it. She's as kinky as her hair.
3) Contestant #3: pound, baby, pound 'til your eyes cross!
4) Moveitfred is intrigued by the dimpled frosty mug design and wonders if, like a golf ball, this aero treatment helps move the mug more efficiently from tabletop to lips.

motivation-AL

Al Reveals His Deepest Fears



Well, I'm coming along...slowly. I've been stretching, spinning, swimming, massaging, resting, icing, compressing, elevating, load bearing, and fucking grumbling...a lot. I'm improving, but, as I say, it is slow.

I'd love to get out for a long run. And I want to crank out a real road ride. I'm so gay from all this low res trainer shit that I'm thinking of getting a gel seat...and sissy bars with tassles...in pink.

Anyway, just thought I'd update you as the other two fags are incommunicado. Heywood may be dead, in fact. I can't remember the last time we got one of his riveting posts. ("Ma says the cows may have brucellosis. Susie says the Plymouth threw a rod. Johnny says he and Pa have to mend the fences out in the pasture. They're planning on growing alfalfa next year...")

bicoast-AL

The boys, "Doing It Wrong!"

"Take a look over head," Fred (Nostalgic-AL)

Fred don't know diddly. Al's got radioactive blood, yo.

eventu-AL

Wherein Al describes his misery.


Well, loyal readers, Al is unhappy. I am missing a tri this weekend due to this injury. There is one more in early October that I was hoping to make a miraculous comeback for, but instead I feel like a fat, stupid, bleach blonde, trailer-trash, bitch who can't dance and sure as shit can't sing.



Rehab has been slow and painful. I have been biking with little or no resistance on the trainer, swimming, and doing some stretching/light load bearing exercises religiously for the last 2-3 weeks. Today, I tried to walk on the treadmill at a faster than normal pace. I also tried run/trotting a little. I made it about 1/4 mile when I felt the calf tighten up. I immediately stopped and switched to the trainer. FUCK!!!!!

This is a slow business. I must remind myself that I've come back from worse, that I can't rush this, that eventually all will be well.

One positive note has been this stick massager I got. Really gets a deep tissue rub going. I like it! (And no, heywood and Fred, you can't borrow mine.) No worries, folks, I'll hang in there. Just wishing this would hurry up and heal.

Al Will Never Fuck Anybody Like A Bitch, Yo

Posters

No, G, this is a killer poster:

Ch...Ch....Ch....Ch.......

Dear Gawd, Friends!

Has anyone been attacked by CHIGGERS?

Oh, the humanity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gettin Time To Rock Yo Muddy Shit, Yo

dismiss-AL

Wherein Al explains why he deleted Fred's brilliant post.

Fred's genius is, indeed, unparalleled in the blog universe. This much is clear. His latest (and perhaps greatest) achievement was the insertion of a "Fuck This Shit" button in our blog. Forget that this button appeared all over the net and blogdom latterly. What made it brilliant was Fred's deft placement in our stream of content and his witty commentary ("Al's Anthem") that accompanied the button. Unfortunately, the button opened Pandora's box and F'ed our nice little blog up. (Something in the code, I assume.) At any rate, after consulting with the boys on this, I deleted the post. However, I refuse to leave a vacuum (though I know you will all feel the absence, the emptiness anyway). In its place, I've tried to bring you something that might be a suitable replacement.





A Dick Joke:

A professor gives his physiology class a spot quiz. One question he asks is, "What part of the human anatomy expands to ten times its normal size during periods of intense emotion and excitement?" He picks a rather overdressed girl in the front row to answer it. "Miss Callahan!" The indicated girl, who heard the question, stammers with some embarrassment: "Professor, I'd rather not answer that question." The professor says, "That's all right, Miss Callahan, you don't need to answer it. Is there anyone present who can answer it?" He notes an interested face in the back of the classroom. "Mr. Hawkins!" Hawkins says, "Yes, Professor, it is the pupil of the eye that expands to ten times its normal size during periods of emotion and excitement." The professor says, "That is correct, Mr. Hawkins." Then he turns to Miss Callahan. He says, "Young lady, two things are obvious from your reaction to this question. One, you haven't studied this week's assignment; and Two, I'm afraid marriage is going to be a tremendous disappointment to you."

perpetu-FUCKING-AL

In which Al yells, "FUCK!"


Ok, enough of this shit. I am injured again.

It started with a minor calf muscle strain in my left leg about 10 days ago. This happened during a run of the mill 5 miler at a very comfy pace. It seems odd to me that it would happen during a non-challenging, recovery sort of workout, but maybe it was a while in the making. I felt a pull low down in the calf (thought it was the achilles first). I tried to coninue to run a bit more to see if it was a spasm that would sort itself. But it got worse. I stopped and hobbled home.



But I was thinking, then, that it was minor. No real swelling or discoloration, and only a modicum of pain. With some R.I.C.E., I was expecting to be good as new in 2 weeks. And that would not have put a crimp in my triathlon on 9/16 nor in my plans to start off the cross season guns ablazin' shortly thereafter. But then shit happened...

I was dealing with a "this fucking car!" moment on Wednesday of last week. The piece of shit car I commute in decided to quit on me, mid commute, so I had to push the pig off the road.



I stepped out of the fucker and was not even thinking about my leg. It had been feeling great. I was spinning with no resistance and swimming all week and it seemed to be responding. I started to push (not even thinking what I was doing). BANG! A lightening bolt shot up my leg and I hit the pavement with a loud, "FUCK!"

Here I am, 6 days later. I'm rehabbing but the leg is definitely going to be a much slower mend now. My end of season Tri is out. The 1/2 marathon for the end of September is fucked, and I don't know when I'll start cross work. FUCK!

I guess I must expect, as I close in on 40, that injury prevention must be much more a part of my routine. And I could use advice on this. (And fuck you Fred. I'm not coming to yoga with you.) I'm thinking that the calf area will need attention. More focus when I lift on calves. Much more attention to stretching before and after. I'm even thinking of getting one of those massage sticks. (No, Heywood, not like the one you jam in your ass to massage your kidneys.) Maybe this will help. I'm all ears endurance Gurus...

Gay Bars?

Moveitfred's wife just picked up about two dozen Luna Bars at the grocery store.

They were on sale.

Moveitfred loves Luna Bars.

They are his favorite.

Does that mean he's, uh, y'know?

Memories, pt 1

So Moveitfred has been playing over his vacation again and again in his mind as he gets back to the numbing business of normal life. Let Moveitfred replay now the first day of his vacation to the loyal reader of this blog.

Family fred scheduled a late-afternoon flight out of local rinky airport that was scheduled to get into Jablome Country in Cali late that night. What was supposed to be a mildly-inconvenient cross-country flight that evening turned into an all-night slog with a productive ending.

Problem was Baltimore (isn't it always?). Baltimore was the first quick leg of the fred's flight itinerary. Apparently on this night a storm of epic proportions leveled the DC/Baltimore area. No flights in or out. So for several hours the freds waited. They played games. They watched a movie. They fed quarters into the massage chairs. They spent way too much time looking at airport gift shop crap. Mrs. Moveitfred even approached official airline personnel and offered to come back the next day. The response was that we would be leaving shortly, and the guarantee was that the flight would go on as scheduled through the night into Jablome Country.

After another hour or so Family fred did leave and arrive in Baltimore. Next leg: Baltimore to LA-LA Land. This was the all-nighter leg that finally did arrive in LA at 3am. Final short leg: LA-Jablome.

However, a snag. Apparently the pilots' union was all over this delayed mess unfolding across the country and decided to put a stop to the flight in LA: pilots had been working too long and this flight was officially grounded.

There were about 30 people scheduled to travel on to Jablome Country on that flight, and they were cranky and piss-flippin' mad. Moveitfred's children were exposed to all 14 cuss words in the time it took to walk from the plane, down the breezeway and into the terminal.

Now here's a travel tip from Moveitfred: when you find yourself in this situation and everyone around you is blowing gaskets, you be the nice one. Think about it: the airline personnel are just as tired and cranky as you are and will do anything, ANYTHING to make you happy and get you out of their faces for the night.

So, the deal from the airline was this: since the terminal was officially closed, all 30 passengers needed to hike it out to the rigid, non-padded chairs by baggage claim for the night until the first flight out to Jablome Country at 8:30am. Nice...

But Moveitfred and the Mrs huddled up and called an audible. With exhausted kids asleep on top of their carry-ons, the freds decided enough and came up with a Plan B that worked to perfection. The freds sidled up to an airline official and calmly presented the terms: the freds wanted a hotel--a nice one--for the family to get a few hours sleep in a bed, a big breakfast, and a later flight. (Don't scream and say "you gotta do something about this YOU FUCKERS!" as others on the flight did--calmly tell them what you want and make it easy and impossible to say "no").

Done deal.

The freds were whisked past 26 other saps curled up on metal chairs and off to a 4-star LA airport hotel. There they all got about 6 hours sleep between 500 thread count sheets before going downstairs for a huge buffet breakfast on white linen tablecloths. Then they took a leisurely trip back to airport for a late-morning, uneventful flight to Jablome Country. Airline paid for it all. On top of all that the airline gave each of the freds a $200 voucher. Nice.

So upon arrival at Estate Jablome (think babbling Greek fountains, original artwork in each wing, acres of fruit orchards--fucking Tuscan villa) Heywood started jumping up in fred's grill and saying, "I'm gonna take you down for a swim at a shitty hole at the river...swimming at a shitty hole."

Now Moveitfred is thinking "What the fuck?" The freds just traveled all night across the country, suffered hours of delays, ended up staying in a lavish LA hotel that morning, just got in, and this Douche is taking us swimming down at a shitty hole? Where's the love? Where's the hospitality?

Well, turns out fred was being a bit too hard on Heywood.

What Heywood really said was "TITTY hole."

When Moveitfred, Heywood, and family arrived after a long dusty hike through the canyon they found a virtual titty parade basking alongside the river! Oh yeah, Heywood!!! (although Moveitfred wonders even now why Heywood would think this watery Norcal pit of evil would be appropriate for children, Moveitfred didn't think too much about it at the time).

Now THAT'S the way to start a vacation!

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.

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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.

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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...

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.