Posts Tagged ‘London Olympics’

Training for his urine test

August 10, 2012

Color me cynical, but I do believe Belgian trackie Gijs Van Hoecke will test positive for tonsil polish — that is, if he has any fluids remaining inside his body for testing purposes.

The Belgian federation shitcanned Van Hoecke from the 2012 Olympics after the Limey scandal sheet The Daily Mail ran pix of Olympians leaving a London club earlier this week. The sopping wet, sleepily smiling 20-year-old was snapped as his mates fetched him to a waiting cab, the driver of which I trust they tipped handsomely.

Van Hoecke issued an apology of sorts in a chat with RTBF television. “What happened is a pity. I am sorry, this should not have happened,” he said. “But I also think that after two years of relentless work, I have the right to let my hair down.

“It would have been better if it had not happened here in London. I chose the wrong moment. Having said that, it was outside the Olympic Village, I wasn’t disturbing other athletes, they didn’t say anything about it.”

Word. I wonder how many esteemed Daily Mail scribes have had to be carried from pubs to cabs after concluding their little bit of business at day’s end.

Remember me?

July 27, 2012
Van Nicholas Amazon Rohloff

The Van Nicholas Amazon Rohloff: Titanium everything, a 14-speed Rohloff hub and Gates Carbon Drive.

Me neither. I used to be that shaven-legged, devil-may-care, funny man about town. Now I’m a hairy old fat bastard striving mightily to find a way to make money without working. Imagine my disappointment.

First, the good news: I have actually ridden a bicycle every day this week. The bad news? It wasn’t my bicycle. And I rode it very, very slowly.

But enough about me. The Olympics are coming up this weekend, and word is that Saturday’s road race will be The World Vs. Mark Cavendish. Good luck with United Nations v2.0, guys. It makes my hunt for free money look like a sure thing.

I lost interest in the Games when pros became involved, and I can’t recall an Olympic road race that was half as interesting as an industrial-park crit, so I will be paying attention only when someone is paying me.

Frankly, the only Olympic sports that have ever meant a rat’s ass to me are track and field, swimming and gymnastics. Running and swimming may be the purest forms of sport, and gymnastics … that’s just plain fun to watch.

But right now I’d rather do than watch. See that bike up there? I’m going to go ride it somewhere, then come back and write about it. Beer may be involved. It’s as close to not working for money as I’m ever likely to get.

Pick me! Or not. …

June 16, 2012

Housekeeping! (knock knock knock) Housekeeping!

Ho, ho. USA Cycling would like it known far and wide that four who served the Dark Lord on U.S. Postal/Discovery asked pretty please could they be removed from consideration for sentencing to the U.S. team bound for LimeyLand and the 2012 Watney’s Red Barrel Memorial Olympic Hide and Seek.

And who can blame them? My paternal granda fled the English for Canada and then the Benighted States, and none of his descendants has exactly been in a hurry to retrace his flight in bass-ackward fashion.

I don’t even have a passport, as if that would make any difference in my travel plans. I can’t even manage to get out of this fucking town, much less the country, both of which would probably be happy to see me go, if only for a little while so they could catch their breath.

I don’t suppose this has anything to do with Texus Maximus getting his Band-Aided triathlon titties sucked up into USADA’s wringer. Naw. Y’think? Naw.

Meanwhile, the furnishing of the Robert A. Heinlein Memorial Crooked House® continues apace. After locating a bargain queen-size bed on Craiglist Herself surfed today’s Old North End garage sale and came up with a stylin’ Ethan Allen Mission-style frame, plus some bedding and towels that look better than similar items that we use our own bad selves. I contributed, too, shifting an espresso machine, a bean grinder and some other kitchenware across the way between paying chores.

Sheeeeeee-yit. If we just installed a bimbo with a taste for the bizarre over there we’d have the mortgage covered before you could say, “Hel-lo, sailor.”