Itsa Italian Import Time

CAV POPS HIS GIRO CHERRY

Good on you Cav. I know I've written in the past about Cavendish being a total pussy, but I'm starting to take a shine to the kid. He's not all that bad actually, like I've mentioned before the peloton needs characters like him just like we need Cancellara's and Millar's. Let's just say I was on the edge of the couch again looking like a jockey riding down the home stretch when Cav was on Petacchi's wheel, brilliant. That's karma for ya.

IT'S ITALIAN IMPORT TIME!

After the heartbreak last week at the Giro I thought it was a good time to finally buy my Madonna Del Ghisallo medal. We all need a little help when out on the open road, hopefully she'll watch over me even though I don't go to mass. I've been wearing it since last night and my neck didn't turn green so good news there. Sorry for the stock photo, I had two glasses of wine with my homemade mac & cheese tonight and I'm feeling a bit loopy, so no real pictures.

Went to Costco with my mom today and we both yelled "Mamma Mia!" in unison when we saw they had Superga shoes. I know the UK has them for sale on every corner, but we have to go to specialty shops to find them. Don't judge me for buying shoes at Costco. I got a white pair by the way.

Love Him or Hate Him

Love Him, Love Him Not

Something He's Not

BOTH FOR SALE ON MY SHOP

How to Use Your Hands Crossing the Finish Line

For all of you getting ready for race season, here are some examples about what to do, and not to do with your hands when you find yourself victorious. Here is an example of what not to do:

On Velonews.com there is video of Mark Cavendish talking about how much he loves his new Di12 electronic shifters. Nothing exciting there. The classic part is when he says how tiny his hands are. I'm not a guy, but I do know that you never want to comment on how small your hands or feet are. I guess if you've got enough confidence to talk about how little your carnie hands are then you probably got the cajones to back 'em up. As seen in above picture. Either way I still think he's a pompous puff tart.

Mark uses his tiny man hands to show that it doesn't matter how small they are it's how you use them. I thought Brits were polite and well behaved, this salute was quite naughty. I wouldn't suggest it.

And then there's good 'ol Tom. Oh dear… Tom, stop it you silly boy, jazz hands are for private time. That's a no for the celebratory spirit fingers and the manel-toe.

Now, here is little Heinrich. Raining, no gloves, in a break-away coming across the line. I cried when I watched him win that stage, and yes I endured teasing from my Mom and husband for it, but at the time it was pure, beautiful sport. The way it should be.

Last years Tour was pretty exciting I'll give you that, pissed me off, but still exciting. My favorite sound bite was Andy saying he had a fire in his belly and was going to seek revenge. Pretty good, but I would of chucked my pump in Al's spokes the next day and then raise my arms victoriously.

This is how a real man crosses the finish line. With a name like Thor how else would you cross the line. Well, maybe he could cross it on the back of a winged giant mongoose, wielding a golden, ruby encrusted sword, and wearing wolf skins but this is pretty good I reckon.

It's Candy Time!

It's that time of year again. It's candy time! It's when you can go into the market and be transported into Willy Wonka's factory, the 70's factory not the new freaky gay one. And while we're at it maybe Ghiradelli took over the factory the day you walk into it because have you tasted Wonka chocolate? belongs on a chalkboard. Stick to Nerd's Willy. I kind of got off there but I'm back. So yes, this is the season for candy lovers. It is also the season for belly aches and missed rides, and if you do make it out, half-assed rides. I myself am starting a sugar fast, cause I'm tired of feeling like a crack whore. Waking up feeling sick, dark circles under my eyes, regretting my last hit of Harvest Mix and Candy Corn. I'm just waiting for some sort of pimp to jump around the corner and start bitch slapping me cause he heard I wanted to quit. You see my pimp would look like Prince and sound like Lamar from Revenge of the Nerds.

So today I am a new woman, oops I had a pack of sugar in my coffee. Starting right now, no sugar until, Sunday? Yes Sunday when I can have a little nibble of something chocolatey. So no baked goods, ice cream, or anything with the white devil in it.

In addition to my sugar fast I am starting a new leg work out at the gym. You see, I have lost some the power in my legs since I started riding because gym workouts are forbidden, because you might morph into an 80's pro wrestler. My legs are unable to get huge and I'm going to start my yoga again. So I should be safe. I want to be able to ride a chainring bigger than something in the low 40's. Hopefully by February I will be a lean mean racing machine, and I will be able to beat my husband in sprints. I also want to make sure I can defend my title in the woman's 35+ public race at the Redland's Bike Classic. I just want to be able to hold up a two finger victory salute.

Whoops! not that kind of salute. But maybe if the race promoters can't get their act together and have the names and numbers of the women available for the race commentators. Just a warning guys.

September Doldrums

Welcome to the September Doldrums. That time of year when you just want a morning ride with temps below 68 degrees. Ah, who am I kidding I just want to use some embrocation. Even though I didn't have too good a luck with my last jar. It was from a company that sounds similar to Angry Chemistry. I used it and loved it the first few times, it smelled magical and made my legs feel all toasty and loose. But, then the last few times I used it I got a rash on my legs. I know it was from the embrocation because it went from the top of my sock line to the bottom of my shorts. Plus it made me itch, like in that Little Rascals episode. Needless to say I've been doing research looking for new non-itchy gam lube.

While waiting for September to pass I've been having childhood flashbacks while riding. Remember when you were little and you would pretend to hit homers off Fernando Valenzuela, or you were on patrol with Paunch and John. Yeah I was a tomboy, but I clean up real nice. So this week I've been riding and I find myself racing Vincenzo Nibali up my favorite final hill sprint, or charging long flat out sprints against Cavendish which I always win cause he's an absolute douche. It's fun and dorky, and I'm not embarrassed to admit it. I know you all do it whether you care to admit it or not.

Last but not least Universal Sports just announced they will air the Giro di Lombardia. I got so excited I started dancing around (see above video) Like I've mentioned in previous posts I love this race because of its beauty and history. What other race visits an area like Lake Como and a site like the Shrine of Madonna del Ghisallo. She has become the patron saint of cyclists. I'm not the best writer so I suggest you google it if you don't know the whole story, while you're at it look up Andy Hampsten on the Passo di Gavia, but that's a whole other post. Back to Ghisallo, It is definitely on my must visit list, so while I'm waiting for that to happen I have been looking to buy a Madonna del Ghisallo saint medal. The way I look at it if your racing against Nibali and Cavendish everyday it's a good idea to have a little back up.

Hell of the West?

Lord almighty Mr. Farrar has beaten Mr. Cavendish. I have not been that excited for a victory since my own cheesy victory this spring. I actually jumped up from the ottoman and screamed till I realized what the neighbors must be thinking. I must of looked like Kramer in the Seinfeld episode when he was betting on horses, because I believe I actually tried to whip myself trying to will Tyler over the line. Unfortunately as soon as he crossed over the line it stopped recording and I couldn't watch the replay or see the actual moment on Mark's face when he knew he was defeated and he wasn't going to win the Hell of the West. What?

Now, I haven't said anything in my posts about the Universal sports cycling commentators, Gogo and Steve Schlanger. I will be nice and just say they are the poor man's Paul and Phil. Sigmund and Puff and Stuff are up there because I couldn't find a photo of Gogo and Steve.Puff and Stuff kind of has eyes like Gogo though. Ah, serendipity.

Silly Karma, Can't Catch Me!

It all comes around to bite you in the behind. I have been having really bad luck this whole summer. I thought all my poopy luck was coming from me mentioning at some time that I keep my teeth healthy, I never get colds, and I never get flats. But under more careful consideration I blame this all on the fact that I can't keep my mouth shout when Mark Cavendish is on TV, whether he's talking or riding. Yes, I admit I used to make fun of his nasty English teeth before he had them transplanted by that South American voodoo dentist. I basically had nothing nice to say about him, because he doesn't have anything nice to say either. Well I've been keeping my mouth shut since the Tour, and I will continue to keep it shut through the Vuelta and Worlds. Here are my reasons, take a gander:

1. I make fun of Marky poo's nasty teeth, I get an abscessed tooth that is so bad my dentist lets out an s-bomb. I'm out for 3-4 weeks.

2. I believe Mark's bronchial problems were a lame excuse for his lackluster start to the season. I end up getting a seriously mucousy cold and cough. I'm out for 2 weeks.

3. Mark veers into Haussler in the Tour de Suisse and takes out the sprinters field and again he crashes in Tour de France during the final run in. Also, during the Tour, he sends his henchman Henshaw to take out Julian Dean with a headbutt at 30 miles an hour. I rant about it to my poor husband for days after each incident. Now, the similarities are kind of far fetched because I haven't crashed, but I have gotten two flats within a span of two days. My rides got cut short for a total of a total of 45 minutes.

Coincidence? Nope. I believe that the South American voodoo dentist gave him the power to cause harm to those who speak evil of him. A kind of twisted Karma that will cause the evil-speaker to endure hardships or embarrassments*. I lost a total of 6 weeks and 45 minutes of riding this summer due to this Karma crap. So I am reverting back to my 90's mountain biking days and creating a piece of Ju Ju for my bike. I'm thinking about one of those little rubber finger puppets, they're not too heavy right? I'll just stick one of those puppies right up front in my cables so he can form a sort of deflector shield. Suck on that Cavendish Karma.

*Due to flatting, cutting my ride short, and having 60psi tire pressure (thanks airstick) I had to take a shortcut through a construction zone complete with rivers of mud across the whole street. Equal that with my white Castelli shorts and 10 or so construction workers, you now have embarrassment.

Velopourri

Went riding this morning but it was with a cheeky, guilty monkey on my back. You see my husband came down with a bad cold this week and he's my weekend riding buddy. I felt like I should of stayed and stared at him waiting for a request or listen for a death rattle or something. He told me I should go so I went. It was a good thing too cause I finally saw the ghost pig. You see there's this house on what I call pig street. The name started last summer. I rode by this house and there was a fat old pot-bellied pig eating grass in the front yard. I saw it twice and ever since I ride by this house hoping to see it and today was my lucky day. Unfortunately John wasn't there to see it because he probably believes I made this whole story up for poops and giggles. But I got the next best thing, crappy photo on my phone. It looks like a retarded basset hound.

I've been watching the Tour De Suisse this week and oh my Lord, whats the process for an out of work cycle/surf bum to get citizenship over there. I'm gonna start selling Avon, there's ladies over there right. They have fondue, chocolate, beautiful countryside, and goats and little lambies. I'm in heaven. Plus it's close to Belgium, land of waffles, more chocolate, weather, and frites. I'd have to stalk up on Neutrogena pore cleanser or my Avon I'm gonna start selling, I'm sure they have zit crap right?.

I mention Tour De Suisse because of the sprinters crash in stage 2 or 3. Mark Cavendish, need I say more. Words can't express the anger I feel when I hear his nasally voice, or read a head up ass quote he gives to random journalists. And then I see him take out poor Heinrich Haussler, he became one of my favorites after stage 14 at last years Tour. I felt like he deserved it after Milan- San Remo. Now he's probably off the tour roster because he got an infection from his injury thanks to Markypoo. I did get a warm feeling in the bottom of my belly when I saw Tom Boonen ride over Mark's neck. Thanks Tom. Well I can't wait till July 3rd, 21 days of racing and Paul and Phil echoing through the house. Love those boys.