Self-medication

Two heaping teaspoons of loose-leaf jasmine tea.
The juice of two freshly-squeezed lemons.
One pinch cayenne pepper.
One thumb ginger, grated.
Honey to taste.

And of course, three shots of gin. Repeat as entertainingly necessary. Take your echinacea tinctures and fuck off to Weight Weenies, Nancy. Around here, we drink away the pain.

Shit week, this. Whether it's hay fever, allergies, or melamine in the coffee, something is making me feel like I'm riding around with a Hudson's Bay smallpox blanket wrapped around my head. Well, it's not like I'm doing so much riding anyway; there's a whole lot of Third Reich-inspired team kit sitting idle at 885 these days. The blueshirts are restive indeed, and the words "Dynamex" and "Novex" seem to be bandied about a fair amount. Fucking gong show. Bruvas and sistas gots to eat, yo.

And last Friday, that's exactly what we did. Full-hoon pigout at the Foundation with Kelly and Kasey, who is a lil' ripper if there ever was one. Then we built a fort. Then we hotboxed it. Then Keri dorpped 7 stairs to falt. Then I went out for a lovely morning ramble with Gunther and Peter from the vintage club. Gunther is awesome because he refers to drinking water while riding as a "fad," the Olympics as "international gangsterism," (TRU DAT, SON!) and because he can't remember whether he owns a Holdsworth or Claud Butler track bike. He also pulls hoon shit in traffic, helmetless, that I won't do.

'cuz it's allll about the stylz, kids. I love sitting back off of the front just watching and analyzing what's going on. Learning. Inspecta fucking Deck, son. Watching Khaled flow traffic. Watching Adam jump on the tail of a passing roadie like "Dude, we're racing, and we're jumping on your wheel." Watching Kasey - who completely contrasts with my own "flagrant asshole" style - drop down between mirrors and take holes that I simply can't. Watching the whole ridiculous level of progression over the past year or so.

...and wishing I'd been there to watch Tenten break his brand-new Aerospoke, because the kid is a fucking animal, and he's got a big 'ol target painted on Skylar and Morgan.

Summer. of. hoon.