My mom read my blog. She now knows her son has a potty mouth.
I'm 44 years old, why does this concern me?
Comparing my moving time with my race time shows that I was wicked slow with my flat repair. Next time 1 stop instead of 3, and I'll whip the tire levers out immediately instead of trying to be a man and get a slimy Stan's and mud glazed tire bead onto the rim.
My friend Jacky's daughter wants to be a bartender; may be she should reconsider.
I'm off to MV to celebrate Quinny's 10th birthday as soon as my last customer shows up. I'll get a couple few days of big gear churning in the Manuel F Correllus State Forest. I haven't mountain biked on the island since the Summer of 2007. I brought a 51.6" gear that time, this time I'm bringing a 56.3"; should be fun. Kids have their bike up their too; being able to let them ride without worrying about them being splattered by some jackass cutting through our street at 50 mph will be nice.
That is too funny. Seems everytime I use a three or four letter word in my blog (which is pretty rare), my mom drops in and I hear about it later via email.
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