Greetings, Team Seagal Grinches! When it comes to holiday cheer, you know that at CXmas, you ass will be crammed so full of it that you won't walk right for a week. And this year proved no less fruitful in the way of ass-cramming, nog-soaked hot-cheer-injections.
But first, let me say that for anyone who may have made a navigational error, or been involved in an involuntary-but-no-less-erotic-man-pile, we shall be issuing entry-fee refund checks promptly. Email us as engorged_xmas_boner@we'reallamateurs.com
There are many hilarious stories that sprung up from yesterday's debauchery. Fortunately, we put the "rad" into "debauchery." I knew that today would be a good one when T-tocs messaged me to let me know that his first CXmas Poo was underway, and doing well.
Nad and I arrived to meet Gino "Father CXmas" Felino: and assist with course marking, not long after stopping at the nearby U-Gas for coffee. Business must be good at the U-Gas, as the clerk was showing off his baller status with a Rolex on his right wrist. We were quite pleased to see how warm it was turning out to be - thus continuing the warming trend that we have experienced each year since the First CXmas, when it was this cold.
Can't wait to unwrap that gift!
Devin was lucky this year, not getting the biggest gift we could wrap. For after seeing all the tandems and utility bikes, we saw a need to get larger, tandem/utility-bike friendly gifts: Our gift wrapping was pretty awesome, no doubt. However, I realized that something was lacking, and that something was moar penises. so I made sure to give our gifts an extra hot beef injection (also see header photo):
Of course, what Non-Race would be complete without Ben "Waldo/Tricky Dick" G?
For the festorvities, we were fully prepared thanks to PBR-Dave and his tireless efforts to keep that sweet Pabst nector flowing down into our mouths:
Speaking of nector, we had, once again, jerked off many elves in order to fill that many cartons:
We had all the ingredients - gifts, egg nog, dudes, chicks, slutty santa's, but there was one thing missing - emissaries from Jefferson City. Once I saw that neither Nick "New-Father" Smith, Borb, Adam, Stoney, Pete, Corey, etc... weren't arriving, I immediately knew that we had way more nog than we'd need. With their crew not around to drink several cartons EACH, I knew there would be healthy leftovers. In fact, we now have so much egg nog left that we're considering keeping it over until next year, at which point we will use the curds to make some sort of new Team Seagal- branded egg nog cheese which will be handed out. So make sure to attend next year, because you certainly won't want to miss that.
There was much in the way of other fluids as well:
Crotch's Private StockAnd it was with these CXmas Party favors from which emerged the quote of the day: "Some egg nog, a little mistletoe, before you know it you're taking it right in the ass." Truer words may have nevar been spoken.
Something else missing was Davey B's dong. With that longing weighing heavily in both It's-Not-Delivery's and Mason's heart, we were incredibly happy to have received a most excellent gift from the South City Cycling Club and their partner Eddie's Southtown Donuts (At Murdoch and Kingshighway) - a huge quantity of the greatest donuts I've ever seen! Behold:
All I can say is that you won't see Dunkin' Donuts or Schnuck's Bakery making anatomically correct donuts, despite the fact that they weren't long enough to accurately depict anyone on Team Seagal. Minor detail, I guess. I'll just have to dub them the "STLPAF-Dave Memorial Donuts."
Despite not having our beloved STLPAF Dave attend, or anyone from Red Wheel for that matter, we DID have the St. Louis Steve Tilford impersonator stop by for a few minutes:
Rumor has it that there was even a Grman appearance at the start, but that can't be true, because he doesn't ride bikes anymore.
At least we had other mid-state jerks attend, such as the Josh Carroll/Val-Columbia Man-Train in the Party Van, and Dan Fuhrman, seen here giving the Team Seagal Salute:
Also good to see Christian Stitz, a man whose presence seems to be moar seldom these days, but always appreciated. Truly, a jerk of Energor-Like Proportions.
Unfortunately, the New East Coast Syndicate was not able to be in attendance for the day's proceedings, however, he did send an official care package with careful instructions not to open until CXmas. The camera's magically didn't work when Jorkword tore into his present from C-Dubs with giddy Xmas-morning excitement, resembling the exact opposite of what the boys feel on Xmas morning at Criss Angel's house - sadness and gagging. Included with his gift is the piece of paper being held by none other than Nico, on the spokecard. I can only tell C-dubs that I hope he enjoyed his inevitable CXmas Expedition to the top of Mt. Fuji as much as Nico enjoyed his gift.
As per usual, Gino "I-Will-Not-Be-Running-CXmas-Any-Longer-So-I-Can-Focus-On-My-Non-Fiction-Criss-Angel-Romance-Novel" Felino addressed the attendees, and before we knew it, they were off in a flurry of middle fingors and good tidings. Once having navigated their way through a cacophony of turns, paths, roads, pathletes, wheel-sucking canyons, sand, and Hub-owners, they arrived at their first major hurdle - the site of last year's Vomitory, the egg nog station.
Due to popular demand, we had several options available to our thirsty patrons:
-organic dairy-free coconut nog
Here, the man who puts the "Ugly" into "Coyote Ugly", John Farinella tends bar at the station for CXmas'ers:
Not surprisingly, the runners going up and down the stairs weren't very interested in our nog offerings. However, I was surprised when Tom of SCCC came through asking if there were any "man-goo" variations - despite not having any available, he was so insistent that I had to "beat him off" with a stick.
Bob was so excited to show off his new brakes, he Tokyo-drifted right around me leaving sweet flat spots in his tire:
He was also a little stunned at how strong our Irish Nog was:
On such a nice day as we had, there are all kinds of people showing up at Creve Coeur, including a new type of pathlete, the wind-blader:
My disappointment meter was approaching the red-zone when our very own Sasha refused her portion of nog, instead offering an alternative of her own, that I "blow her." I informed her that I would in fact accept her counter-offer, and to let me know what time would work best for her.
Stephanie was true to her word, and in a Babe-Ruth-esque move, called her shot at the start by proclaiming that she would drink 3 cups. Mission Accomplished:
The merriment was flowing for sure, though this year it only flowed into mouths, instead of out, like last year.
From the Vomitory, our CXmas'ers proceeded up those stairs to a new challenge this year, one more phallic than ever before. But not before passing through a barrage of official Hub water balloons, personally filled by Ron Clip, and hurled by Joel and his boy, and Mash0r along with Mini and Micro Mash0r:
Once passed the water balloons that seemed to be mostly aimed at the crotch, Punch0r and Tagg0rt, taking a tip from Criss Angel, were waiting at the playground for people to come by, and pump them full of dong-nuts. There, the course actually went down the slide, which is extra-super fun.
Of course, there was the Lance Armstrong Edition Donut:
Some people are more adept at descending than others. So some people thoroughly enjoyed the slide:
...while others, who might not be as confident on the downhills, were terrified out of their minds:
Despite Nick Smith not being here, I do feel that our mindsets and general approach to bike riding are very much aligned. For example, I've yet to attend one of his races at Binder Lake and not found moonshine. So it isn't terribly surprising that we also were able to provide moonshine, this one being cherry-infused:
Once peeling themselves away from those donuts, we sent them on the long trek that found themselves descending the much-drier-than-last-year gravel hill back down to the lake, where they would journey back to the other side of the river, over the Bangert Island for some great cross-bike-friendly singletrack, where the lucky/motivated first 50 got an amazing spoke card, and then back through the gift-giving gauntlet:
sweet jersey, brah!
Once they were given their gift, they were on the final stretch, back to home base, where the debauchery resumed, and we would put the "Dear Ted" into retarded. You're 2011 CXmas winnars:
1st Man: Mike "Polk Audio Schwag Provider" Bobelak
2nd Man: Rock "Carbon Wheels at a Non-Race" Wamsley
3rd Man: Jacob "You Didn't Make an Ass Out of Yourself So I Can't Give You a Nickname" Rohter (sp?)
1st SS: Dave "I'm Extremely Jealous of Your Stein" Smith
1st Woman: Cat "Proof There Are Hot Biker Chicks Out There" Ebeling
Lots of stupid good times, and smiling faces as they filed in. One trail-user in particular rolled up, in a most reclined fashion, wind-sock-a-flyin, a PBR in his handebar-mounted bottle cage, and holding a gift.
Man: "Yes, I'm supposed to ask for a 'Coach'?"
Me, hardly able to believe my eyes, "Why that would be me!"
Man: "I'm supposed to deliver this gift to you!"
Ash his wife rolled up, she called out to him, "Did you find Coach?"
Who says that 'bent riders are huge dorks? Oh yeah, I do. Nevertheless, this couple gets the Team Seagal Seal of Approval!
Nice dickey, Kate:
As dicussed with the South City Cycling Club council, we decided that on a great way to woo your wife, girlfriend, or even some savory sea-hag at the bar. You casually let her know, in your most suave voice, that "this ass ain't gonna stretch itself." The Council: Despite those fine asses, which they use to very effective ends, I'm sure they're all actually quite respectable in real life... you know, when they aren't eating each other's penis donuts and getting prizes for being the best dressed male - here he is along with the best dressed female, Val
Despite the general confusion at times, and despite the horrific odors currently coming from both my feet and ass, we all managed to have a kick-ass time, collect about 200 canned goods for charity (thanks to Sasha for doing the leg work), and watch all the recumbents pass by on the path. The proof is in the sauce:
Father time here wanted a photo of him with his pumpkin topper attached to the helmet:
Post-ride, many things were revealed. One of which being the owner of the unblinking brown eye, into which I had to look during the Tall Oak Challenge earlier this year. Thanks alot, Jason "unbleached ass hair" Pryor. Which is only fitting that we find these things out now, since he is part of our newest Team Seagal freshman class.
Yes, we have recently signed on 3 moar people into our squad of jerks - all of whom have proven themselves to be extremely jerky. So we know they'll fit right in. But moar on that lator, as we shall introduce you moar proporly at a lator date.
We counted roughly 75 people, although only 74 front wheels made it through to the finish. Sorry, Kirby. Despite the nuttiness, I think we all learned something about ourselves - middle fingers can be used to great effect, most of which being a greeting. Just be careful to show it to others who aren't "in the know."
-Casey "Toilet Humor is Still Humor" Ryback
moar photo links