Now that the train is running smoothly around the Mooseknuckler Alliance World Headquarters, I’ve realized how dreadfully behind I really am. Writing the last soap opera that came out of said headquarters, took a lot more time than one would imagine. This is mostly due to my subpar writing skills, lack of attention and above average apathy. Not to mention that curating the photos takes me longer than actually writing the soap operas. Which you might consider to be a menial task, but my subpar writing skills aren’t nearly as bad as my non-existent Photoshop skills. Meaning that I can write a 1000 word blogpost in about the same amount of time as it takes to “edit” one photo. And by “edit” I mean change the size and save it for the web.
Plus, you know that other stuff.
Among the other stuff, is the constantly lurking in the back of my skull that the government is tracking every key stroke and the folder they started back in 2001 has grown so large that they are now building a storage facility for it in Northern Utah. The only possibly good thing that could come of this,
I’m not sure that is an appropriate trade off, but it would be a start.
If they are tracking me, they were probably a little confused by this past weekend’s photo stream.
My awesome life partner, KB has returned to the kiddie factory to slave away making good on the societal contracts that were forged so many years ago and as thus our little adventures that we somehow squeeze in every week have come to an end. In protest, I scheduled myself a weekend off and we squeezed one last adventure in.
The plan was to bust up to SLC, ride some dirt in Park City, hit the Cutthroat Racing Beer Bash, ride some more dirt and then head home. This plan was perfect. Then KB decided to buy a car, so we busted up to SLC, spent alllllll morning at the dealership and then celebrated that we hadn’t starved to death waiting while contracts were written up.
Jamon was kind enough to show us some Park City dirt after lunch and we enjoyed chasing him around the Flying Dog trail. This almost entirely smooth trail was a blast to ride. The lightning and thunder had nothing to do with the blast, but did add to the fact that the temperature was perfect for riding. Even the wind smiled upon us and we had a tailwind for most of the time.
I failed to bring along any kind of photo taking device, so no proof that this actually happened. And in fact, it probably didn’t. At least it wasn’t in my file until now.
Then it was time for some more beer.
We hit the beer bash a little before 9 and the place was standing. Lots of people standing. Then we found our way to the sitting area and there were people sitting. We saw people that we see often, like the Jones/Gilbert club and people who we usually only see in the spring, like the rest of the Cutthroat club.
A band played, we drank beer and watched the beer sprints. If you are unfamiliar with beer sprints they consist of two stationary bikes, a clock and a pint of beer for each participant. The racers chug the beer and then sprint for the win. This created an amusing spectacle to say the least and we were entertained.
Then Jamon and Physics Brian were to battle.
Jamon strutted onto stage and walked right past the bikes. He made his way behind the giant screen. All we could see was his ankles. He proceeded to remove everything except his shoes, socks, boxers and tie. Then returned to the stationary bike ready to rumble. Of course, PB was feeling had at this point so he disrobed as well. There was some fondling and then it was on.
Jamon proceeded to break the pedal and then dismount/fall off the bike and return to his changing room before the race was over.
Rule #1, no vomiting on stage.
After which things got fuzzy and we rode home.
KB and I made it up to Park City for another dirt session and I felt like we were sweltering. I have no idea what the official temperature was but inside my brain it was way too fucking hot.
And that was definitely tracked and I didn’t get a sandwich from the NSA even though they knew I was starving.
The next stop for the Bulge known as a train was at the Mooseknuckler Market. A week or so ago, a text popped up from none other than the Alliance’s I-dog. It was for a t-shirt that he had just taken receipt for. I promptly passed the news on to the rest of the world and he sold out.
Well, for all of you who didn’t get one of the first edition (I did, because people love me), there will be a second edition. It will look exactly like the first but will be available to those of you who are less loved than I. In an attempt to make sure we get enough of these for everyone, we are doing a preorder. $20 guarantees you a t-shirt in your size. We will order on September 1st and ship them about a week after. Local pick up is available as well.
Pretty sweet deal, even at half the price. To preorder, click the link on the right side of your screen that says Mooseknuckler Market, choose your size and follow the links from there.
Or for those of you too lazy for that, click here.
And while I’m sure we didn’t catch the train as it blew past us, that catches us up for today on everything that is really news worthy in this world.
You’re welcome.
P. L. and R.