50 backcountry miles of grunting, sweating and cussing like a trucker with Tourette’s. On cyclocross bikes. Or singlespeeds. Followed by embarrassing amounts of cold cheap beer and grilled meat.
When: September 19th
This ain’t Switzerland, princess. Or Publisher’s Clearing House. You bitches get a t-shirt...which in all fairness will forever identify you as a freak of a different order. This t-shirt will also cause you to become irresistible to the opposite sex. Unless you swing the other way (which is cool.) In this case it will imbue identical same-sex attributes upon the wearer. It will also identify you as slightly tougher than the average man. Or woman. Or hermaphrodite. Whatever. This t-shirt will not proclaim you liberal, conservative, Republican or Democrat. It will loudly proclaim you irresistibly liberal. Attractively conservative. Handsomely Republican. Sexily Democrat. This t-shirt is like a mood-ring…hybridized with pharmaceutical-grade Rohypnol. You will be transformed into a golden god. But you'll still be sorta pasty...it is still September after all. You will become a player. Your game will become stone-cold unbeatable. When you throw your mac down it will sound like a fucking thunderclap. Your marriage will be revitalized. Your friends will be jealous. Your dad will give you the keys to the car. And the liquor cabinet. Your mom's skin will flush when you enter the room. I know that's gross, but the point is, your desirability when wearing this t-shirt will know no conventional boundaries, social mores or taboos. When wearing this t-shirt you will also be granted the ability to breakdance. At a "Breakin' II, Electric Boogaloo" level. You will poo pulverized lava rocks. You could also pulverize lava rocks with your poo. Your choice. And you will urinate like a meth addict wielding a flamethrower. Without the pain sometimes assciated with either of those analogies. This shirt will render you a physical, mental and sexual Superman. Or woman.
Men. Women. Singlespeed. Geared (no t-shirts for the geared crowd. Don't like it? Bring a 'cross bike then. Or start your own flippin' race.)