Brandon called me up a couple of weeks ago. “I want you to write a column for CyclingIllustrated.com.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. For real.”
“The shit I write’s toxic, dude.”
“I know. Can you have something for Thursday?”
So on Wednesday night at 2:00 AM I realized that, uh, it was a problem. What the fuck was I going to write about? There was that great TV newstory on cycling and hemorrhoids…nah. That wanker who crashed into a Suburban trying to take back his KOM and now his widow’s suing Strava…nah. Turdy France? Yawn.
The best stories are in your own backyard
The only problem is that my backyard is a giant parking garage. The apartments above it house a gaggle of urchins who look down into our apartment and practice saying “You suck!” and “Fuck you!” then running back inside. The pellet gun hasn’t stopped them, but they’re quicker than they used to be. [Read more...]