Archive for the ‘Fat bastards’ Category

Interbike 2018: The dream is gone

September 20, 2018

El Grande, being (ahem) gravitationally challenged, rarely participates in the Sport of Kings. Organizers grew tired of the frantic phone calls from the National Earthquake Information Center in Colorado.

The inaugural RenoCross took place last night. Alas, neither I, the Mud Stud nor the Old Guy Who Gets Fat in Winter was in attendance.

Yes, it’s that time of year again.

There doesn’t seem to be much in the way of coverage out there at 8 a.m. New Mexico time, though cxmagazine.com has a brief report, results and pix.

My colleague Steve Frothingham had contemplated doing the Wheelers & Dealers race, but his new duties may have kept him in the Show Daily office. The Fake News never sleeps, and it rarely pins on a number.

El Grande did, from time to time. But it usually got swallowed by a roll, crease or fold, and even if he finished none of the judges could see it and thus he never got his just deserts.

Sometimes he didn’t even get beered.

• Next: Relax.

Wide Load Wednesday

November 22, 2017

Comedy is easy. Gravity is hard.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and come Black Friday you’re gonna need to go for a long, slow, fat-burning ride to recover from the turkey flu. Sweat a little gravy. Know what I’m talkin’ about?

But your kit won’t fit anymore for some strange reason.

What to do?

Good news, Tub-o. We can’t help you for this holiday, but if you act now, you can have your official Old Guys Who Get Fat In Winter kit ready to roll by Christmas.

Just click here to take advantage of our special holiday offer* and you, some anonymous porker who happens to be wearing your XXXXL underwear, or a gravity-challenged friend, co-worker or family member, can be trundling along in style like a Clydesdale hauling a beer wagon, just in time for the New Year.

We even have a long-sleeved model now, the better for mopping grease from your chins.

• The fine print: Some restrictions apply.** One jersey per customer.*** Offer void where prohibited by law.****

* Actually, it’s not that special.

** No, they don’t.

*** Bullshit. We’ll run your credit card until it smokes. Buy as many as you can afford, and in ascending sizes, because you’re only gonna get bigger, bubbeleh. Eat, eat; like a skeleton you look.

**** Law? What law? You see any law around here lately? If we had any laws in this country we’d have a jail on every streetcorner instead of a Starbucks, and there would still be a waiting list to get in.

Good news and bad news

October 4, 2016
Classic Fat from the last millennium. Some things never change.

Classic Fat from the last millennium. Some things never change.

First, the good news: Julia Moskin at The New York Times serves up a modern recipe for chicken pot pie that looks absolutely scrumptious.

The bad news, also from the NYT: Whatever you weigh right this minute, you’re only gonna get fatter as 2016 and its various holiday seasons waddle to their belt-loosening denouement. I blame Obama. Also, the chicken pot pie.

The worse news: “Anything that happens in these next 10 weeks, on average, takes about five months to come off,” says professor Brian Wansink of Cornell University’s business school.

Does that include the election? Oh, God, no. I need some comfort food. And I think we all know what it might be. …

The Farce Awakens

December 18, 2015
The Farce is strong with this one.

The Farce is strong with this one.

You haven’t ordered your new Old Guys Who Get Fat In Winter jersey yet? Saving your pennies for “The Force Awakens,” are you?

I find your lack of faith disturbing. …

Fat Guy Friday

November 27, 2015
The new, bigger-and-better-than-ever (but mostly bigger) Old Guys Who Get Fat In Winter jerseys, available now at Voler.

The new, bigger-and-better-than-ever (but mostly bigger) Old Guys Who Get Fat In Winter jerseys, available now at Voler.

Hey, you! Yeah, you … what are you doing there, with one jaundiced eye on the monitor and the other bleeding gravy into your Cheerios? It’s Black Friday, man! You’re supposed to be duking it out with someone over a two-buck “smart” toaster at Best Buy.

Not into it, hey? What are you, some sort of communist? How about proving your U-nited States of America American™ bona fides by ordering up one of these fine Old Guys Who Get Fat In Winter jerseys? For you, today only, no charge!*

* A small shipping and handling fee of $77 per garment applies.

Fat suit

October 19, 2015
The new, bigger-and-better-than-ever (but mostly bigger) Old Guys Who Get Fat In Winter jerseys, available now at Voler.

The new, bigger-and-better-than-ever (but mostly bigger) Old Guys Who Get Fat In Winter jerseys, available now at Voler.

Halloween is just around the corner (boogity boogity boogity), and you too can dress up like The Large One and go trick-or-treating (hey, free food!). All it takes is American money and a visit to the Mad Dog Media fashion collection at Voler.

Blow Hard

February 26, 2015
As far as GOP candidates are concerned, renowned kingmaker and fixer Mister Boo says he'd treat Christie just like a Bush.

As far as GOP candidates are concerned, renowned kingmaker and fixer Mister Boo says he’d treat Christie just like a Bush.

That’d be a good title for a movie about Chris Christie, though I’m not certain that Bruce Willis can put on enough weight to land the lead role.

The smart money is saying Christie’s presidential aspirations are stuck in traffic on some bridge somewhere, and that this whole charade may have less to do with the White House than with landing him a cushy talk-show gig, which could come in handy if New Jersey moves and changes its name the next time the Mouth That Roared leaves town on a “trade mission.”

That sounds about right. One thing Chris Christie will never run short of is ass to talk out of.

A gay old time

February 26, 2014
"Don't we have anything to read in here that isn't a bicycle magazine?"

“Don’t we have anything to read in here that isn’t a bicycle magazine?”

That little Albuquerque training camp spoiled me for the remainder of February in Colorado.

After a week of long, steady distance in springlike temperatures, coming back to winter flat crawled up my butt. Twenty, feels like 10, y’say? Well, to hell with that, I think I’ll just stay inside and eat everything, watch Arizona try to out-stupid Colorado. Next these sunburnt simpletons will be issuing 55-gallon spray cans of Homo-NoMo® to the National Guard. Send the bill to the po’ folks, sonny, this here’s a Christian state.

Anyway, I was in danger of reaching that tipping point at which my inner fat bastard says, “Fuck a bunch of bicycles, let’s sell ’em all and buy a pie factory.” And it struck me that the problem wasn’t so much the weather as it was riding other people’s bikes all the damn’ time. Inspecting this, questioning that, making notes about it all — this is not unlike riding a couch in the company of a psychotherapist.

“How does that 30-inch low gear make you feel, Patrick?”

“Like a fat little girl with polio, you head-shrinking halfwit. Now shut the fuck up, I’m trying to climb this hill without chowing on the handlebar tape.”

So today I dragged the old Voodoo Nakisi out of the garage, aired up its Bruce Gordon Rock n’ Roads, and rode off to see how many times I could fall down on the ice in Palmer Park (none, though one sneaky patch in the South Cañon nearly got me). It was a beautiful day and I hardly endured any shrinkage at all, being covered from tonsure to toenails in colorful fossil-fuel weather repellent.

I even saw one bozo riding in shorts. Take that, Arizona.

Paddy whacked

September 28, 2013
There was a hint of fall color in the trees as I cycled across the creek toward Palmer Park.

There was a hint of fall color in the trees as I cycled across the creek toward Palmer Park.

I rarely applaud the thumping of a Mick by a Limey, but I was happy to make an exception in the case of Brian Cookson vs. Pat McQuaid.

Fat Paddy pulled every dirty trick he could find from his size-5 cap during his frantic campaign to retain the UCI presidency. But when Cookson finally said, “All right, we’ve had enough of this,” and moved that the UCI Congress proceed to a vote, that august body handed said hat back to the blubbering bog-trotter and showed him the door.

Now, I rarely pay close attention to the racing side of our sport unless some silly person is cutting me a check. So I have no idea whether Cookson will be able or even willing to make all the changes that even a casual look-around deems necessary.

But at this point it seems to me that electing a blow-up plastic sex doll would be preferable to another term for Fat Paddy, unless that term were to be served in the H-Block.

Thus I celebrated the omadhaun‘s ouster with a short ride on a cyclo-cross bike with UCI-illegal tires. Póg mo thóin, Paddy, go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat! 

Thorazine is on my Xmas list

November 29, 2011
Miss Mia Sopaipilla views with alarm

"You said a bad word," says Mia. "And another. And another. And another. ..."

What’s been going on around here, you ask?

Well, let me think here for a minute. Hmm. …

We had the big Thanksgiving Day U-turn from Bibleburg to Fort Collins and back on Thursday; a full day of VeloNewsery plus dinner with our across-the-street neighbors Larry, Jill and Wendy on Friday; lunch with (and saying adios to) our wonderful next-door neighbor Judy on Saturday, with an extra-large side of work; and work work work on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday, culminating in yet another dinner with friends tonight, a northern New Mexican project to which I tended between bouts of pixel-pushing for the Boulder boyos.

Whew. Long week for an old dog. And it ain’t over yet.

As you might imagine, something’s had to give around here, and that something is exercise. My ass is approaching critical mass, and I ain’t talking about the traffic-snarling bicycle parade, either.

I did sneak out for a 20-minute “run” this afternoon before putting the beans on the stove. Folks probably thought they were seeing a particularly ugly, sluggish zombie on the prowl.

And I probably managed to sweat off a couple of grams running around the kitchen, chopping, mincing, slicing, sautéing and stirring bits of this and that until in desperation, running out of time, I finally dialed down the menu from cheese enchiladas in green sauce with one side of beans in chipotle and another of red chile roasted potatoes to a bare-bones platter — bean burritos smothered in green with a side of the aforementioned spuds.

The bad news is, I probably put those lost grams right back on by going back for seconds. Plus pie. Did I mention pie? Oh, Lord.

Meanwhile, we will return to our regularly scheduled snark come Thursday, when I have a day off — and the weatherman is calling for wind-driven snow and a high in the 20s. I foresee much grumbling and the first stationary-trainer ride of the season, not necessarily in that order.