If this winter has taught me one thing, it’s that the Gilmore Girls is just as relevant today as it was when it came out. But if this winter has taught me another thing, it’s that my thermal bibs are not thermal enough. At least not where my bathing suit covers. Every post-ride shower lately has ended with me cradling my manparts (not in a sexy way) under a stream of hot water, begging them “DON’T GO TOWARDS THE LIGHT CAROL ANN!” This isn’t a reference to Poltergeist. I’ve actually named my manparts Carol Ann.

So this is why I’m announcing my intention to create a committee to discuss the development of a business plan to produce a working prototype of a wiener cozy. Or koozie, if you’re a beer drinker. The idea is simple: it’s a thing you shove in your pants to keep your weiner warm. But unlike a cup of coffee, it won’t cause scalding. It’s more like the wool hat you currently use, but without the bunching or awkward bulge. The details aren’t yet… uh… fleshed out, but this is what I do know about my imaginary product.

• It will be called the “Members Only Jacket”
• It will come in three sizes. XXL. XXXL. XXXXL. Small didn’t test well.
• It will not be made of softshell fabric, because that doesn’t promote confidence.
• It will be “artisinal” and available in “boutiques” so that I may charge more.
• We will produce a 30 minute informercial that will show how complicated other warming solutions are, before someone with a fake Welsh accent will step in to show how fantastic the Members Only Jacket it. This informercial will be rated NC-17.

Here is a picture of some wieners wearing Members Only jackets.

I’ve never seen “Fiddler on the Roof,” but I heard the opening song Tradition one time when I was 14 because I wanted to make out with a girl named Gretchen who was really into musical theater.  I don’t know any of the words, but the tune gets stuck in my head every time someone buys something stupid for their cross bike because “cross culture” tells them to. Often, I am that stupid person.

Technologically, I can understand the backlash against disc brakes, because they’re obvious and garish and they make you look like that guy that got up-sold on all of the commuter components when he bought his bike. Also, they look heavy. And looking light while racing is the Liz Lemon perfect jeans booty shake of the cycling world.

I can also understand the anti-DI2 sentiment, because that stuff is like the Segway of bike components. I’m sure it’s amazing to ride, but if you put that shit on your bike you’d better be prepared to either win or kick someone in the face.

To rebel against mini v brakes, however, is to rebel against mechanical advantage. And that’s a pretty difficult argument to make. They aren’t even expensive, so you don’t have to break out into If I Were A Rich Man.* Yes. I get it. Tradition. But there are lots of traditions in the world that I choose to ignore. Like regular bathing. Or Seppuku.

Traditional canti brakes are the Sarah Palin of the cyclocross world, revelling boastfully in their lack of progress. You know who else hated mechanical advantage? Nicholas II. Though in his defense, I think that Rasputin was behind most of his component purchases, because he was the one with the account at QBP. Little known fact: he also hated musical theater.

So how is this for a review. I don’t own these newfangled TRP CX9 Mini V-brakes. But I’m going to give them 5 stars. Or ten. No… ELEVEN STARS. Because just talking about these brakes slowed my bike down better than the cantis I have on there now.

Even the cavemen used levers, for fuck sake. Grock think canti inefficient tool for stopping. Grock rub rock on carbon rim instead. Grock think tradition stupid like Sarah Palin. Grock think mini v brake Miracle of Miracles**.

* That’s another fiddler joke for the people that haven’t tried to make out with musical theater girls.
** Another Fiddler song, if Wikipedia is to be believed.

Here’s a funny video. Please accept this as my apology for the time you wasted reading my review.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=wusGIl3v044

Jesus, it’s November 5th and I’m finally getting over my election day hangover. It’s all a blur of whisky and anger, but I assume things went horribly, horribly wrong because Nancy Pilosi just handed over her gavel to to guy with a fake tan that could best be described as “Moltini”, and now she’s selling her no-longer-in-Powertap on the OBRA list. Californians can’t grow pot. Oregonians can’t spend their social security checks at the casino. Our prudish overlords have even decided that Washingtonians can’t buy booze at Costco. Goddammit, people! Kirkland brand Scotch is my birthright, and I’m tired of going to Nevada to get it!

At least the people of Delaware can go back to masturbating, I suppose

All of this backwards progress has made me nostalgic for mountain biking, which some of you may not realize was once quite popular among the youth of the 90′s, with their rock and roll music and their cargo shorts and their Beverly Hills 9021 ohs.

Nothing says quality like a Schwinn headbadge, which actually says “Schwinn Quality”. It’s spelled right out for you. Nothing says “cutting edge space age technology” like Schwinn, either. Except maybe Betamax. Or Craftmatic Adjustable Bed. Or the Jitterbug mobile phone. Schwinn had been making awesome shit since the late 1600′s, and then changed their focus to pretending to manufacture substandard shit in the 70′s. After selling their name name and cornering the can-collecting market,  Schwinn decided to slap their logo on a couple of domestically produced bikes in the late 90′s before their final death rattle in ought-two.

This is one of those bikes. I know for a fact that my 1999 Schwinn Homegrown is just as good today as it was the day I bought it. Because I haven’t changed anything, not even the chain, since before Justin Beiber was born.

Visual appeal: The bike is painted in primary colors, It’s possible that this was one of the rare TLC-branded “Ain’t 2 Proud 2 Beg” editions, utilizing all of the colors of the rainbow. Just looking at it makes me want to pour some of my New York Seltzer out in memory of Left Eye.

Suspension: The fork is a RockShox Judy, and it’s definitely the best fork available in the stock color of candy apple red. I haven’t looked at it or read the manual, but the suspension seems to be a combination of elastomers and crumpled up newspaper. While it only has a quarter inch of travel, it rocks a solid FOUR INCHES of preload. Let’s see one of those fancy Fox air things match that.

Shifters: The shifters on the bike use Shimano’s long abandoned “shiftease” technology, which will flirt with a gear, have a bunch of drinks with the gear, go home with the gear, and then pass out face first on the couch before ever actually shifting.

Pedals: Blown out Shimano 747 pedals complete the package, offering zero engagement and a full 360 degrees of float.

Branding: A tomato. Like a “homegrown” tomato, I think, because they couldn’t be bothered to create a pot reference. Not even a subtle one. This is why Prop 19 failed.

It’s cyclocross season, and that means that internet forums are all abuzz with people making up scientific reasons why the tire they just bought is probably the best tire available. I’m sure there’s some actual science behind it all. The knobs and ridges and stuff. But fuck science. It’s never given us anything except a bunch of cures for things and numbers and verifiable facts. Which is why I’m going to explain how tires should be purchased: pictures of them on the internet.

Road Race Tires

These all look the same, so picking one is kind of pain in the ass. If the tire is super expensive and wears out quickly, it’s a good race tire. If I tire is super expensive and doesn’t wear out as quickly, it’s an “all season” race tire. If a tire is inexpensive, it’s crap. Because good things have to be expensive. Also, the better the tire the bigger the text. If your tire has a 12 point font, it sucks and it’s making you slow. Better tires are ridden by faster riders, so the font has to be huge so people can still read it when they fly by. Also, the tire needs to come in brightly colored sidewalls to be good. Unless it comes in too many colors, and then it’s just for kids on fixed gears.

Editors Choice: Schwalbe Ultremo R.1 Clincher Road Tire
I’ve never ridden these. But my gut says they’re $70 each, they have giant words with an extreme name, and they come in pink. So they win.

Cyclocross Tires

If a tire is often out of stock and comes from Europe, it probably the best tire you can buy. If any part of a tire is “hand… something”, it’s also probably the best tire you can buy, because it’s an “artisinal” tire.

If you buy a tire with arrows or chevrons in the tread, they should point forward, because otherwise it looks like your tire wants to go backwards and no one wants to look down and see a tire that want to go backwards.

Michelin Cyclocross Mud 2: This tire looks really bumpy, so it’s probably good. Also, if a tire has “mud” in the name, it means that the company that makes it has enough money to make other tires that have names like “dry” and “rain” and “light snow” and “party cloudy with a slight chance of precipitation” in the name, and they know that you’ll probably buy each one and describe each one as the best tire for that particular condition. Because it’s right in the name.

Blue Michelin Cyclocross Mud: People sell these used on ebay for $100, so it’s the best. It reminds me of Disney’s VHS release of the Little Mermaid on VHS, and how they limited the release so it would be super rare, and people would end up fighting each other for copies in the electronics section of WalMart, pushing the prices up. Then they found a subtle drawing of a penis on the video cover and no one wanted it anymore, and everyone was decided that Aladdin was better anyway. Except people who like cartoon genitalia. Anyway, the blue Mud is still elusive because there are no penises on it. It’s like the Stratavarius of bike tires. Elusive like a unicorn. If you can find one, people will make fun of you for buying it. But you’ll be faster. Much faster. And you’ll corner better. And last longer in bed.

Continental Cyclocross Speed: These have almost no tread in the middle, so they are like secret road tires, because from the side everyone will think you’re riding cross tires, but they’re basically slicks. Apparently the tires that have “fast” or “speed” in the name just mean that the middle part is bald. You can do this to your own tires by riding them long distances without taking any turns.

IRD Crossfire: These look like waffles. God, I love waffles. If these tires came in a golden brown color, I would slather them in butter and nutella and eat a pair. The tires that just have a bunch of square knobs all over were created by a manufacturer with a boring designer. They should have put more pointy things or circles or something so that it looks like they at least thought about the science of dirt. They probably work just fine. Great even. But how are you supposed to brag to people about them? Tires need to be complicated, so we can talk about them.

Anyone that says that they cut their own knobs off on exicting tires to get better traction is obviously a faster racer than you are and they know more about knobs than you. Or the guy that designed the square ones. Also, it’s embarassing that someone would admit to that.

Editor Choice: Trick question. None of the above. Clinchers are for losers. But if I was forced to ride someone elses bike and that person had just been laid off and had to sell their sweet carbon tubulars and ride their shitty training wheels made of stupid, heavy material like aluminum or something, I’d probably go with something European on the front that I’d custom cut and the mythical blue Mud in the rear, because it sounds really complicated.

I just bought a carbonated water machine. I bought it because I like carbonated water more than flat water. And because Mark has one, and I want to be more like Mark. I showed it to C, and her first question was “Can you carbonate urine?” but I explained that the instructions recommend that you only carbonate water. We agreed that the best option would be to create a cocktail of urine and carbonated water. So we spent a little while trying to come up with good names for pee-based aperitifs. Names included:

Pizz
Urine God’s Hands
The Flushing Meadows

The problem with having a carbonated water machine is that now I just want to carbonate everything. I want to make my entire salmon and asparagus dinner bubbly. Sam was just telling me about a drink he invented that consists of a 4loko, a Five Hour Energy, and an alka seltzer. We named it the 4lokomotive (or “Crazy Train” if you’re hustling it on the street.) That last time Sam and I worked on an elixer together, we invested the Mimosa 20/20, which was Orange Jubilee flavored MD 20/20 mixed with Miller High Life, the Champaign of Beers.

I really want to add carbonation to all of these things.

But back to the Sodastream. How does it work? Like this: You screw a giant tire inflator into a plastic tower. Then you stick a bottle of water under it and press a big button until the machine farts. Then you have water with bubbles.

Urine sold separately.

I know I might sound naive in saying this, but when you order stuff online you don’t always get the thing you’re picturing while ordering. Like one time my friend Dar bought some “adorable” pots and pans from ebay, and they turned out to be adorable because they were American-Girl-Doll-sized. She was too embarrassed to return them and I’m pretty sure they still hang on a miniature rack near her real, non-adorable pots and pans that she actually cooks with.

I went through this recently when purchasing a Catlike Helmet from the internet. I was obviously excited when the package arrived, but opened it only to discover that these helmets are nothing like cats at all! They’re just helmets! Giro-Like or Bell-Like would be a far better name for this company, because that’s what they are like. Like other helmets.

I did a little research to find out what the deal was.

As it turns out, Catlike is a Spanish company. Being that I study Espanol (Spanish) in college, I had easy access to a diconario (dictionary) and the 500 Spanish Verbs book. I soon discovered that Catlike is actually Spanish for “plastic safety”. So I guess it’s not really a misnomer. It’s plastic and it makes me safer. But it also doesn’t, as I’d previously imagined, softly purr while resting on my head while I ride my bike.

Also, you can’t buy these helmets in the US. I assumed this had to do with those PC losers who don’t want to use a cat as protective headgear, but I guess it’s actually because they weren’t pure “plastic safety”…they actually failed to meet some helmet rule standards. However, word on the street (internet) is that they stepped it up this year and passed the 2010 CPSC impact tests (which I guess doesn’t stand for Cat Protection is Super Cool) and will be coming to the bike shops of the USA this summer.
After wearing my “Catlike” for a few weeks, I am happy to report that as far as non-feline helmets go, this one is very comfortable. It is very lightweight and also seems to have some inexplicable street cred, as several strangers have wanted to talk to me about it.

All I have to say to them is, “sure…you could buy this helmet. But I think you should just buy a cat, because nothing’s as good as the real thing.”

Rather than pretending that I know how things work, I’ve decided to spend this cyclocross season writing about shit I don’t understand. Things like math. Or road racing tactics. Or satisfying women sexually. So let’s just add embrocation to that list. As far as I can tell, embrocation is a fancy word for Bengay and cross racers use it to to create a burning sensation on all of their cold-weather-exposed extremities (ie: the parts that your bathing suit doesn’t cover). People have “recipes”. They create “blends”. Then they “win” “races”. So there is obviously something to it.

I’ve never used it. I just wear knee warmers. The old fashioned kind made of textiles. Specifically, they’re women’s medium sized knee warmers because I have dainty, girlish legs. And they’re still too small, so they always slide down in the middle of races, bunching up around my ankles and making me look like Olivia Newton John in the video for Physical.

At Alpenrose on Sunday, I was lucky enough to score a sample of some embrocation made my the people at Northwest Knee Warmers. It smells pretty. I would have eaten it right then and there had I not been warned. I’m that dumb. But I was warned, so I put it in my jersey pocket and forgot about it until tonight. Just now. Hours after my race.

My house is freezing and I can’t find my slippers, so I’ve decided to apply this embrocation liberally to my feet and watch some episodes of Mad Men while eating frozen yogurt.

* hours pass *

This may be the whiskey talking, but I’m a fucking genius. Don Draper may have marketed the Kodak Carousel, but let’s see that smug bastard come up with a marketing coup like the Liquid Slipper™.

This shit is like having your feet dipped in Snuggie. I can see the commercial already. “Slippers are so complicated. And socks always just slide right off. But now there’s Liquid Slipper™!” See, the problem with embrocation is the name. If Don Draper had been a cyclist, he would have come up with something better than “embrocation”. Embrocation sounds like a venereal disease, and if I want to have a venereal disease I’ll just buy another mail order bride from an obscure Baltic nation you’re probably never heard of anyway. But if I want my feet to feel amazing and toasty while sitting barefoot in a poorly insulated rental, I’ll buy some Liquid Slipper™!

I’d like to thank the people at Northwest Knee Warmers for the sample. It’s amazing. I plan to buy an extra 4oz at Rainier just to keep on the shoe rack.

I’m a pretty lousy cyclist, and like to find excuses why this is the fault of someone or something else. Like Sarah Palin. Todays excuse is my diet, which is 90% bread and cookies and 10% ice cream. Or “gelato” if I’m feeling fancy. My diet lacks protein. Luckily, I’ve discovered One Whole Chicken In A Can. I think that this is both the product description and the brand. Judging by the label, this product was designed in the 70s. I expect that it may have also been packaged and shelved in the 70s, aging in it’s own juices like a fine single malt Scotch. One Whole Chicken In A Can makes a lousy mid-ride snack, mostly because it’s weird to carry it in a jersey pocket. But it might be a fantastic post-ride recovery food. Or drink. Or both. Depending on the type of can opener you use.

I used to purchase One Whole Chicken In A Can whenever someone I didn’t know (or like) would invite me to a birthday. I’m not very good at gift shopping. Or talking to people. Or making friends. Or math. But I love birthday cake. So I would give them One Whole Chicken In A Can, which required little thought or money on my side. And in return, I would be allowed to eat their party food, which often consisted of bread and cookies and ice cream. Or “gelato” if they were feeling fancy.

Everyone wins! Except the person who just got One Whole Chicken In A Can for their birthday.

I think that I’ve probably purchased around ten of these in my lifetime, but I’ve never seen one open and the contents are a total mystery. But this is what I know from looking at the can:

- One Whole Chicken In A Can is fully cooked. The sounds coming from inside the can, however, lead me to believe that it is actually still alive and attempting to mate with itself.

- One Whole Chicken In A Can does not contain gibblets, but does contain bones. And skin. And beak. And brain. I don’t know what a gibblet is, but I’m awed that they took the time to remove it and left all of the other shit. A gibblet must be really awful.

- One Whole Chicken In A Can weighs 3 lbs, and I’m left to wonder if the chickens are selected for can-hood based on their size or their weight. Is is possible that a climber chicken weighs 3 lbs but too tall to fit in the can? Or that a sprinter chicken fits nicely, but but weighs too much for the label? Perhaps One Whole Chicken In A Can selects only General Classification contenders.

Here’s a video of Sarah Palin talking about something while they throw turkeys into a wood chipper behind her. You betcha.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYxn2vlhtWo

Sports movies are better than other movies because sports movies know that you have to put an awesome song right before people are about to do something awesome. Like when the Karate Kid is whupping some surfer dude ass, and they’re playing that “You’re the Best” song by someone that no one has ever heard of. That is a song for winners. Movies about asteroids or relationships will put a power ballad in to make the audience all weepy. Weeping is for losers. Sports movies are about winners. If you want to win, you have to put on a bad ass song.

Vision Quest: It’s about a high school wrestler who’s trying to drop weight and sleep with the girl from Bound. He talks about his erection and gets bloody noses a lot. Then Madonna sings a song in an 80′s redneck bar while doing that awesome 80′s dance that people did in the 80′s. Then she sings “Crazy for You” and IT’S ON. The wrestler sleeps with the girl from Bound and then wins his wrestling match in slow motion because he doesn’t have a boner anymore. Boners hinder wrestling.

Cool Runnings: Some Jamaican runners become bobsledders because John Candy threatens to eat them if they don’t. The team plays up stereotypes about Jamaica before losing in slow motion and earning the respect of the Nazis. I actually cried the first time I saw this movie. For serious.

Thrashin’: Josh Brolin plays a skater with foppish hair and a small deck. He hangs out in LA and watches people skate with his mouth agape. Then he goes on a date with Sherily Fenn while wearing a completely unbuttoned shirt. Then I think he’s gets into some kind of fight with the bad guy from Weird Science, but I’m not sure what happens after that because I went home. I assume it happens in slow motion. 

Ed: This is a movie about a monkey that plays baseball and stars Matt Leblanc. I’ve never seen it. But the themes are obvious. If your sports team isn’t playing well, you should get a monkey. Because it will bring fans to the ballpark and teach you important life lessons. Like don’t star in a movie with a monkey that plays baseball.

Karate Kid: The Karate Kid doesn’t know karate, and a bunch of blond guys beat him up because they don’t like the misrepresentation of his name. Then he meets a kid named Freddy who wears an amazing shirt with a picture of two pigs having sex with the words “Makin’ Bacon” in glittery iron-on. Freddy and the old Arnold from Happy Days beat up the blond kids while the Karate Kid has sex with the hooker from Leaving Las Vegas.

Teen Wolf: Michael J. Fox wants to have sex with a blonde girl so he gets really hairy and learns to play basketball. They do the Thriller dance together at prom. But then a brunette girl named “Boof” says that she likes him better when he doesn’t have hair. So he shaves and wins a basketball game in slow motion. At the end of the movie, one the extras visibly pulls out his penis in the bleachers. Here is an animated picture of that (maybe NSFW)

Batter Blaster is a pressurized organic pancake batter gun. Imagine Han Solo. Now imagine Han Solo concerned about the effects of pesticides both on the environment and in the food he consumes. Now imagine Han Solo making pancakes for Leia on a Sunday morning wearing Boba Fett underoos. That’s pretty much the whole thing right there. Also, I think that you can use it for whippets. New Seasons had it, but then they sold all of it. To me. And never restocked. You can still buy Batter Blaster at Fred Meyer.