Fresh Meat

As absolutely no one has noticed, I’ve been absent from the wordy slopes of Mt. Shredward for a while. Like, two years. Wow. That’s even longer than I thought. I’ll include myself among those who didn’t notice or care I was gone.

However, I’m pleased as punch n’ gin to say that while I’ve not typed word one in my bloggy wogg, I’ve been extremely active on the trails of the bay area during that time, with an assist from the epic headline-grabbing drought we’ve been suffering out here in Cali. It’s been as advertised, so mountain biking has been a year-round sport for around half a decade now.

The reservoir shores of our golden state are a barren, apocalyptic, multi-tiered ring of sadness surrounding alarmingly small bodies of water that are quickly racing towards pond status. But hey, it’s been a non-stop riding party. Dusty as fuck when riding with the crew, but I guess if there’s a silver lining to our slowly churning environmental catastrophe, no rainouts on planned riding days ain’t bad. Actually, I honestly can’t remember the last rainout I had. But they say that this year will finally be the year that we actually have a winter. There’s gonna be an El Nino, ya know. I’ll believe it when I’m not sucking dust.

Also keeping me on the trails on the regular is that I’ve suffered no serious injuries since the great elbow rebuild of aught-twelve. It’s just been the usual little falls that result in sore wrists and scrapes. And actually, I kind of take the long view on abrasions. See, I don’t know about you guys, but this sick fuck never grew out of his love of a well-timed scab picking. And by well-timed I mean early and often. I’m actually not aware of any abrasion on my freckly and increasingly wrinkly skin that didn’t encounter a major setback to the natural healing process thanks to a compulsive, full frontal fingernail assault. Maybe one or two escaped prying up by my index finger’s nail, but even that is highly unlikely. My fingertips are on a near constant search and destroy mission, feeling for anything that I can squeeze or pick off. Pimples, which apparently are going to be with me from puberty to the grave, are equally doomed in the abused warzone that is my skin. I’m much like a dictator in that I’m unrelentingly cruel to my own population (POPulation. That’s funny.) It’s really beyond my control, kinda like reaching down my boxers and playing with my boys once I’m sitting in front of a TV. Am I right? The fellas know what I’m talkin’ about.

I’m never off the clock when it comes to self-grooming. And for the record, it stays self-grooming. My wife and I both believe that, like peeing and pooping, acne harvesting is a private matter, so we don’t do the primate stuff. Gross. And besides, that’s my fucking bacne. Mine. For me to enjoy.

While we’re on this disgusting subject (though judging by the millions of views that the more grotesque and jaw dropping squeezings get on YouTube, it’s a shared interest), a related vent: I’m still puzzled to this day whenever I see someone with a larger than normal whitehead on their face that remains unmolested for more than a day. I mean, what the heck, dude? For one, it’s kinda rude to make people look at a mound of pus and sebum through a transparent membrane of epidermis. You’ve pretty much got a glass-domed display at the National Museum of the Disgusting right at everyone’s eye level. Secondly…oh my god!…how do you deny yourself the satisfaction of successfully dispatching the power that lies between two well-placed digits on that weak bitch? White means it’s go time. Hopefully you didn’t actually listen to all those warnings about the dangers of popping pimples in junior high. What else did you believe, you pussy? That you should always wear condoms?

So yeah, mountain biking. I’ve been doing that. And working. Going on the occasional trip. My daughter is now in sixth grade. Got a new car. The 27.5” wheel has taken the fuck over. Had my fifth anniversary with my second wife. I took a full time job after over five years of freelancing. Yeah, let’s see if I can get this Shredward thing going again.

UPDATE: Wooohoooo. Had a crash that resulted in a big scrape down my shin and in the crotch of my leg and foot (I think it’s called an ankle) and am currently in a beautiful tussle with the crusty results. It had been a while since I had a playground of multiple square inches like this. Good stuff. Thought you should know.

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