Ancient Roman Fixie Spotted!

Yesterday, after two weeks of nothing but 1963 Vespa and Fiat sightings, I saw a fixie in Rome, but it was elusive, and rode off into traffic before I was able to identify it properly. It had fenders, though, which, on one hand, seems strange for a city this UNrainy, but, on the other, not that strange for a city this manic about “style.”

Two minutes later, I walked into my first Italian bike shop, and promptly began drooling. the Lazzarotti shop had, oh, 30 Colnagos, (including a custom Ferrari model), 20 Pinarellos, and at least one spicy Cinelli. Some were even selling for the low low price of 7,400 euros. Ouch. That’s, um, like, $10k.

I tried to get a Colnago keychain thingy, but even it was $40. WTF?

Off to Chamonix tomorrow. Yeeeeeehaw.

the Espresso Challenge in Rome

In Rome, we’re doing as the Romans do, and competing to see who can drink espresso the fastest. There are actually two races: who can drink an individual cup the fastest, and also who can drink the most cups in a day. The game ends when your head is spinning so much that you can’t walk straight towards the next cafe, and can barely summon the brainpower to ask, dov’e il bagno? Unrelatedly, there are craploads of vespas and motorcycles and scooters and supertiny cars here, but very few bikes in the streets. We’re starting a hunt for a) a used bike (since I left my Pinarello in DC) and b) the closest bike builder, just so we can go drool at the perfect Italian engineering.

tomorrow night in Hanover, NH: the best challenge yet

— — — — — —
The Losers (LCC and CnT) of the Vertical Challenge Present:

“You Cain’t Git Thur From Heer”, or “Deliverance” on the Connecticut
and
The Horizontal Challenge, Spring 2006
— — — — — —

That’s right, gravity freaks, it’s time to celebrate (or mourn) the outcome of the 2006 Vertical Challenge! Our festivities are twofold in nature:

1. The overarching theme of the evening will be “‘Deliverance’ on the Connecticut”. This means that you should dress as your favorite character or stereotype from the film “Deliverance”

2. The “Challenge” of the evening is more…scandalous. You are to pair up with another being, be it man, woman, goat or climber, and push yourselves to the extremes of hook-up endurance and ingenuity. You are to hook-up* in as many curious and inventive locales at or near Ledyard Canoe Club as possible in the evening of the party, between the hours of 10pm and 3am. You will then [email] your locales to me and I will tally them up, discarding those locales used by more than five couples. The couple with the most unique locales wins the Horizontal Challenge.

It’s gonna be grand. So come on down and git yur freak on, boy!

Ledyard Canoe Club
Saturday, May 6
10pm-3am

*Hook-up: Must involve intimate contact** for more than 30 consecutive seconds
**Intimate contact: Kissing, Necking, Heavy Petting, and/or all forms of sex.

22 ways of cooking a fresh goat carcass

an excerpt from the International Goat Association’s Atlas of Goat Products::

1. cheese (141 cheeses from 24 countries)
2. milk, yoghurt & ice-cream (16)
3. meat (22 with fresh carcass, middle or highly processed)
4. fibre (3 mohair, 1 cashmere)
5. leather/skin (salted skin, leather)
6. yarn and fur (1) (1)
7. musical instruments (4)
8. medication (2)
9. sweets and cooking specialties (8)
10. others (tools…)

ZPG goes international

Jeremy, from Port Charlotte, Scotland (on the island of Islay, the southernmost of the Hebrides) sent word yesterday from the Velo Club d’Ardbeg.

He offered, “I would happily make you Laird of Goats if you were to send a handful of stickers to our wee club,” adding that “we have loads of wild Goats that were left here by the Vikings originally.”

Talk about an awesome title. “Laird of Goats” looks GREAT on my resume.

In fact, Zandra suggests that we go to Scotland, and “have you sit on a throne and then take a pic of you surrounded by goats all bowing down.”

I’d be like, HEAR YE, GOATS, FOR I AM THE LAIRD OF GOATS. I SHALL BARBECUE EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU AND/OR RENDER YOUR MILK INTO DELICIOUS CHEESE, AND I WILL REJOICE IN YOUR ABSURD FURRINESS AND SILLY HORNS. THAT IS ALL, FOR I AM A BUSY MAN ATTENDING TO MUCH GOAT BUSINESS.

Here’s hoping for more international diplomatic arrangements.

Rummy: our alliance has escalated to Stage IV, Physical Relationship Secured

RUMMY IN LOVE
by Bruce McCall
(from The New Yorker, 5/8/06)

From: The Dormitory of D.R
To: Miss X [EYES ONLY]
In reference to last night’s date following the Freshman Mixer: It is my determination that you have advanced to the fourth quartile of personal value to this writer at the present time. I attach a voucher entitling you to (temporary) custody of one (1) ring, worth $1 million. Caution: Do not have the ring appraised by a jeweller. I happen to be a better judge of its value, which must be kept top secret and withheld from your girlfriends.

From: The Dormitory of D.R.
To: Miss X [SECRET]
My files reveal no record of my having made the long-term commitments alleged in your memo just received. You clearly confuse me with some other person with the initials D.R. with whom you showered. Please desist from pursuing this matter and further upsetting my fiancée.
P.S.: Per my previous document, the ring was a loan. Please return.

From: The Dormitory of D.R.
To: Miss X [NOT FOR CIRCULATION]
You force me to observe, anent your hysteria re lost virginity (see pp. 1-36 of the letter left on my doorstep last night), that not once has the slightest interest been evinced or mention made in reference to my lost virginity. Such lopsided reasoning exemplifies what is wrong with our country today.
EMERGENCY NOTICE. Re Operation Frosh Follies: You have been reassigned to babysit my nephew Ricky tonight beginning at 1600 hrs. The corsage should be turned over to Miss Y no later than 1800 hrs.
P.S.: A secretary (since outplaced) inadvertently omitted in my Final Damage Survey of this relationship the paragraph referring to your mother’s inedible cooking. You may obtain a copy by writing to this address and marking the envelope “Cooking, Inedible, Mother’s.”

From: The Dormitory of D.R.
To: Miss Y
In response to your query as to why a certain Miss X has mailed you a parcel containing my underwear, pajamas, toiletries, and prophylactics: You should not need to be reminded at this point that “stuff happens.” This matter is now closed.

From: The Dormitory of D.R.
To: Miss Y
Prior commitments have prevented me from reading all of your last eighteen letters, but I advise that the effort expended therein might have been better utilized in working out with weights to reduce the flab in the area of your upper arms.
In re the quoted passages in Letter 12 of the abovementioned series: You are hereby reminded that Rilke was German and Rimbaud French, i.e., Old Europeans, i.e., unreliable. Expunge them from your thoughts A.S.A.P.

From: The Dormitory of D.R.
To: Miss Y
In reference to our meeting in the bushes last evening:
(1) The name Rummy is reserved exclusively for individuals on the list. You are not on the list.
(2) My comments on the movie “Pillow Talk” were not opinion but fact. Openly oppositional stances such as yours publicly insult my veracity and jeopardize your current status as a contender for Most Favored Female Companion.
(3) The section in the note submitted to me under my front door this morning at approximately 0500 hrs, titled “My Thoughts on Love,” is sloppily reasoned and contains 43 unacceptable conclusions—none, I am saddened to say, in the prescribed bullet-point format.

From: The Dormitory of D.R.
To: Miss Y [DESTROY AFTER READING]
Your notice of resignation as my current primary affection supplier is hereby accepted. Please return all correspondence over my signature A.S.A.P., plus the photos of me in Superman costume. I enclose a bill for expenses incurred in both the initial romantic-mode campaign and the subsequent romance-enhancement mission, now aborted.
As you know, the ring was a loan and should be returned.
P.S.: “Asshole” is one word.
cc: Miss X.

From: The Dormitory of D.R.
To: Miss Z
Our joint exercises in my vehicle last night from 0100 to 0645 hrs have been graded Satisfactory. You therefore merit transition to Phase II and the (temporary) rank of Steady Date.
Indicated actions: (a) breath mints, (b) a more powerful deodorant, (c) termination of your verbal contract with “Hal” in time for our next appointment. Call my assistant for time and place.

From: The Dormitory of D.R.
To: Miss Z [TOP CONFIDENTIAL]
I am returning your most recent letter, in which you extensively quote from Mr. Walter Whitman. As D.R.’s directory makes explicit, Mr. Whitman, a known homosexual, is not on the list of acceptable poets.
P.S.: Budget revisions necessitate that henceforth you cannot order an appetizer or dessert while dining with D.R. Unspent funds are being diverted to update equipment for the wrestling team.

From: The Dormitory of D.R.
To: Miss Z [EYES ONLY]
I can report that as of this day our alliance has escalated to Stage IV, Physical Relationship Secured.
Action taken this day: Same motel room booked, under name of “Mr. and Mrs. Jane Fonda.”

From: The Dormitory of D.R.
To: Miss Z [MOST SECRET]
I am in receipt of yrs of late last night. Net takeaway: In 23 pages (26,000 words), pertinent facts and new information affecting D.R.’s personal qualities are 100% absent.
Item A: “I want to wrap my legs around your body like an octopus” contains no useful guidelines for ongoing conduct.
Item B: “Stud in Aviator Glasses” cannot be transferred to my career résumé without copious footnotes.
Before rewriting your thesis, consult the works of Clausewitz and Marshal Blücher, and “The Art of War.”

From: The Dormitory of D.R.
To: Miss Z
It has been clear to this writer for some time that your interpretation of my position vis-à-vis the odds in favor of a voluntary joint marital operation are sufficiently wide of the mark to disqualify you as a romantic associate. Please return the ring, which was of course a loan.

From: The Dormitory of D.R.
To: Miss Z [NOT FOR CIRCULATION]
Follow-up re Missions Outstanding: Please put down my dog and shave your legs.

From: The Dormitory of D.R.
To: Miss Z
Your note to “Two-Timing Bastard” overlooks these crucial elements:
(1) Identical twin sisters are often mistaken for each other—particularly in the dark.
(2) In re your liberal paraphrasing of the remarks in the note wrapped around the rock hurled through your sister’s bedroom window: In D.R.’s family of origin, “I love you” is a form of greeting, not unlike “Hello” and “Take a pew.” He frequently says “I love you” to his own mother.
(3) Because of what I am informed could be interpreted as illegible handwriting, the phrase “new photos” might admittedly be misread as “nude photos.”
(4) The undersigned was in your twin sister’s bedroom shortly after midnight, only to attempt the recovery of his library card. (The “endless night of ecstasy” mentioned in the intercepted note obviously refers to ongoing delighted feelings at the prospect of retrieving same, thus avoiding fines.) Any other interpretation means you have rocks in your head.

“I believe in this president”

Stephen Colbert, throwing punches in every direction at the White House Correspondents’ Dinnner:

But funnier, or at least not as vitriolic, is the bush /bush duo:

REJECTED SPOTS FOR THE ARMY’S CURRENT AD CAMPAIGN, “STRENGTH FOR NOW, STRENGTH FOR LATER.”

(mcsweeney’s, 5/1/06)
By the Bros. Farhang
- – - -

1. “Mailer”

(Open on a YOUNG MAN, mid-20s, at his first day of work at a Jiffy Lube. A mustachioed, gum-snapping STORE MANAGER, mid-30s, removes his grease-stained glasses and shakes our young applicant’s hand.)

MANAGER: Welcome aboard. Now, when you ring up the customers, be sure to get a home address so we can add them to the mass coupon mailer. It takes some tact, as people don’t like to give out their personal info. Are you comfortable gathering information?

(Cut to a dingy interrogation room at the American base in Guantanamo. We see a montage of the YOUNG MAN screaming at a tied-up Iraqi prisoner, slapping him in the face, kicking him out of his chair, being calmed down by a fellow soldier, connecting electric clamps to the Iraqi’s testicles, etc. Cut back to the YOUNG MAN as he responds without emotion to the MANAGER.)

YOUNG MAN: Yes, sir, I think I can handle that.

2. “Vet”

(Open on a short-haired, twentysomething YOUNG WOMAN as she puts on a white lab coat in an X-ray room. A door opens and a VETERINARIAN appears holding a domesticated white rabbit, which the VET pets as it purrs gently. She throws the YOUNG WOMAN a stethoscope.)

VET: Now remember, people’s animals are like members of their family. So it’s important that we stress to them the gentle methods and safety precautions we employ while the pets are here in our supervision. Know what I mean?

(Cut to the same YOUNG WOMAN at Abu Ghraib, smashing a prisoner in the face with the butt of her rifle, hogtying naked prisoners, posing in front of a naked dogpile of blindfolded prisoners with a “thumbs up” as a cigarette dangles from her lower lip. Cut back to the VET’s office, where the YOUNG WOMAN responds.)

YOUNG WOMAN: Yes, ma’am. (Accidentally laughs.)

VET: What’s so funny?

YOUNG WOMAN: Nothing.

3. “Egon”

(Open on a large man, early 40s, with a crewcut, heavy chin stubble, and a 90-degree jaw line as he gnaws on an unlit cigar at Ghostbusters headquarters. He is greeted by the Ghostbuster in charge of new applicants, DR. EGON SPENGLER, who takes him on a tour of the premises.)

DR. SPENGLER: Colonel, we’re so delighted to have you. Can we offer you a Diet Dr. Pepper or some nacho-cheese combos? No? Very good, then. Right this way. So listen, there are times when it can be very exciting around here.

(A 400-pound cement gargoyle jumps at our applicant, but is restrained by a chain attached to the wall.)

DR. SPENGLER: See what I mean? Anyhow, most people think the ghost-busting business has been down since the late ’80s. Not true. They may not come in the form of hell-bent 10-story-tall marshmallows anymore, but take my word for it, there are still plenty of ghosts out there in need of a good busting, especially in season. Needless to say, I’m not afraid of any of ‘em …

(DR. SPENGLER chuckles, but his joke falls on deaf ears. The two share an awkward pause.)

DR. SPENGLER: But seriously, at times, when you head out to the site, you got your proton gun all charged up and set on “Annihilate,” but there are just no good-natured ghosts or endearing poltergeists to be found. You’re going to want to fire that sucker, believe me, but you have to show restraint. It can be a bit of a cock tease—you know what I’m saying?

(Cut to footage of our applicant holding a U.S. Army M21 assault rifle in an Iraqi warehouse full of harmless farm equipment, an old beat-up foosball table missing a yellow goalie, and, most notably, no weapons of mass destruction or weapon-producing agents. The COLONEL scratches his head in confusion, then helplessly resurveys the room to no avail. Cut back to Ghostbusters home office, where the young man responds.)

COLONEL KICK ASS: Believe me, Dr. Spengler, I know the feeling. Just out of curiosity, what kind of name is Egon?