Last Bubba at the Lake of Spaniards

Greetings You Jerks. Yooooouuuuu Jerks. The same rain that kept the smart riders off the mountain bike trails on Thanksgiving, also supplied the first beloved slop of the StL CX season. So this past weekend, after a season of everyone blubbering about how much they wanted mud and slop, and saying shit like "Waaahhhhhh, did you see that last Belgian race where it was so muddy they had to run half the lap? I wish we could have that..." and "Wahhh I do a lot better in the mud." and "Wahhhh... I wish I had the chance to use my new mud tires which allow me to " and "Waaahhhh, my vag is a sandy, island paradise." Well, we almost got our wish. After two days of rain two days prior to the race, we got a couple of mud holes, and A LOT of soft ground. The ground was so soft, that, to quote Scooter McScooterton, "it was as soft as Criss Angel at a Playboy Mansion party." All of this soft ground, in turn, made it very hard to get any speed out of the legs. In fact, it was as hard as Criss Angel on his way over to meet Chad (lead vocalist for Nickelback) behind a dumpster.

Jerkmeyor and myself, the Coach, being around to lend a hand in putting the course together, had laid some devious plans with which to foil all attempts at going fast while on course. However, these plans were not destined to hatch. Regardless, we made sure that each of the wet spots would be touched by all tires. It was fortunately not a bumpy course, just soft. Softer than Criss Angel being jerked off by the Olsen Twins.

As we lined up on our start line, Myself, the good Mr. Forrest Taft, Tropical Storm, and myself were pitted against the likes of Kirby (Kurby?), the esteemed Mr. Dan Bruns, former beard-doper Robert Mayfield, recent ally D-Wayne, Matt L, and he who does every race, among others. We were off down the pavement, and it wasn't long before the SS man-train was sorting itself out fairly quickly. I was surprised to pull past Mr. Shoemaker in the first lap, and once again, he reminded me that he likes fucking crotches. I totally agree. Then again, maybe he was just cursing my name? Hard to tell, what with the deafening sound of his wrists snapping. Dwayne was very audibly going anaerobic right behind me, and I was worried that he was going to do what he's done a few times before, which is pull around to become the locomotive of the man-train, only to un-hitch me, leaving me to drift down the tracks, a tanker car soon to be the caboose. Instead, I was surprised to find that I unhitched him from my train. The Dark Horse winner of the SS race, Dan Bruns, didn't just win, he mouth-violated of SS class. When he passed me within the 45 seconds of racing, it was the fastest, most demoralizingly fast pass I've ever had. I almost started weeping uncontrollably right there. A lot of ups and downs in that race, and I managed to have some interesting back and forth with a Big Shark rider on a Felt Breed, or "he who does every race." I found that he'd put time on me on the straights, but then could do little else other than cause me to hit my brakes more in the turns. The jerk still beat me, despite wholesaling at the barriers. Sideline motivation came in the form of Gino Felino and Jerkward Toscani, who rode their jerk-asses up to watch the race and drink beers.

We then proceeded to follow official cyclocross guidelines by changing out of our kits, pillage the cooler for some PBRs, and cheer Professor, Devin, Jeff, Matt James, Scott P (who seemed to ride pretty damn well), and some other crunk-ass jerks who were all in attendance for Professor's newest lecture, entitled "How to Win Your A-Race - By a Fuckload." Professor, Devin and Jeff broke off the front for a while, until a split developed, separating Professor from Devin and Jeff, the two of whom made a very cute couple. Congrats to Professor for winning both this race and the Bubba Points Series! (Can you believe that dude is on our team?!)

Next weekend will be a whole new ballgame, as the Missouri State CX Championships in KC will be going down, and the StL Wrecking crew needs to take care of some business, knowing that they have some serious business going on over there.

What's Up Tyrone,
-Casey F. Ryback


Trail Monster said...

ummm...this just in...

Anonymous said...

I accidently left my bag of hypodermic needles in bathroom at the park. Did anyone pick them up?


Scott said...

Criss Angel is softer than my poo after eating 3 gallons of ice cream. :(

Doctor said...

Amazing post, I sprayed Clenbuterol tainted meat out my nose. Congrats to the Professor, well done sir.

PS. My poo is as hard as Coach watching a Golden Girls marathon.

Casey Ryback said...

the Good Doctor graces our blorg with an appearance! Seldom do we hear from the team medical doctor these days. There was a Japanese business man next to me also reading your comment regarding the hardness of your poop, and let me tell you, all that talk about poop had him as hard as Criss Angel in the middle of a Human Centipede.

T motherfuckin' TOCS said...

I'm pleased to read such an amazingly awesome fucking post!

Mr. t-TOCS Forrest Taft did NOT race this last Bubba. I did consume many PBRs and chinamen ancient scrolls readings with fellow jerks during all races. I suppose my superior attitude and state of mind transcended into another t-tocs to snap wrists and race in my presence.

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