Not to sound like “Its my party and I’ll cry if I want to“, but I’m shockingly late to my own Dirty Birthday party… Its horrendously cliche to even type these words, but I can’t believe how quickly we’ve arrived at the 4th Anniversary of this Dirty ranting platform… Or that I missed the milestone altogether on 1 July, insert horrified emoji face <<Here>> brah.
But the fact I was late is perhaps the most authentic evidence in this Birthday rant about one very dominant truth of turning 4:
Its getting hard
Promise, not a millennial Gram story cock reference there, nor is it a first world blogging problem cry for help, more a reflection of the reality of 4 years and 662 posts, hopefully illustrated by a random collection of inner monologue rhetorical questions which I will now try and pass off as a paragraph in order to justify my whinging:
Does this all sound the same? This content isn’t really fresh is it? How do I make this different from last time? Why the fuck can’t I think of a better analogy than this piece of shit? Do I care if this will offend someone? Doesn’t this all just sound like a bitching cuntser fire? Have I gone too Enduro? Why have I only worked out three quarters of the way through this post that it has no point? Didn’t we basically cover this all last year? How many different ways can we wank on about how people are the most important part? Can I use this word if I’m not a millennial? Why the fuck are we reverting to this cheap rhetorical question content so often? Am I suffocating under the self imposed weight of unrealistic expectation? Why the fuck do I need so many knee pads?
Clearly its not the experiences that have been the issue in terms of generating the requisite material to wank on about… In a ‘Spoilt Cunt’ case study, here is the mother load of awesome that made up getting from 3 to 4, which is rammed with more radness than you can shake a corrupt UCI official at:
- July – Italy for EuroEnduro III and the infamous bad ass La Thuile EWS Round
- August – #AT40 tour: A massive double header in Spain and France and the first road riding trip for 2 years to celebrate AT turning 40. Girona vs the Pyrenees in a full roadie froth mission
- September – Finals time in Finale again: EWS Round 8 in Italy
- December – Who knew the raddest dirt days would cum in the throes of 2016? Radness with the Rodfather, SwissMissile and Jeff on the hallowed grounds of Rotorua
- February – The Chiang Mai Training camp in Thailand
- March – Dirty Mega March III, including a wet & wild NZ Enduro, Wairoa Gorge debut and then followed by the infamously wet EWS Round 1 in Rotorua
- May – Boys go Wairoa Wild with a rad 3 days in not so sunny Nelson for more moistness
- May – The long range mission to the highly anticipated/overhyped EWS Round 3 in Madeira
- June – Back to Europe for EWS Round 5 in
Sunnyrainy as fuck Millau
If bullet point lists make you want to puke because they remind you of some officious and uptight cunt at work, then here’s what that all looks like without a million hyperlinks – Thanks to all the GC’s that made this montage suitably rad:
So given I’ve been bathed in radness in between year 3 and 4, what’s the excuse for the generally poor blogging form which could easily be masked as extended writers block? There’s only one excuse really and whilst it started out as a joke, this year its started to actually become a thing…
You may nod along in appreciation of this, or very quickly label me as being more full of shit than a preppy arrogant son in law, but its actually my attention span that seems to be the greatest inhibitor to my blogging form. Or more correctly, 2017 seems to be the year that my
smart cunt phone is winning the war its been raging on my attention span and general ability to be productive and focus long enough to bang out Dirty content.
I remember a time where I could sit down and smash out a race or ride report draft in an hour tops, usually at the end of that very day in fact… Another hour to edit and craft those finishing touches that go 90% unnoticed, and more unrequited content was ready to be blasted out the ass of the Hawk server farm into the never ending ocean of fuckwittery that is the Intercunt in the 21st Century. Those days are long gone… Now its a paragraph at a time a couple of times a day, resulting in a disjointed editing nightmare that invariably has turned into a fortnightly dump.
Oddly, I share an apartment with a pet Gerbil, not mine fortunately, but the other day to test my theory I tried to have a staring & focus contest with the Gerbil, who promptly went on to win 5-0. Alarmed I have weaponised Twitter and Instagram et al with Russian precision to melt my brain to the level of a Rodent, I’ve tried to sit down and smash this post out all in one hit, like the good old days…
Yeah… So that was over a week ago now, which kind of proves my point that either I now have ADHD, a high chance given I can’t even concentrate the full length of an EWS stage (Turns out the doctor refused to prescribe ritalin due to my reason of wanting to slay gnar with greater focus), or I need to start to mix up the cycling experiences again to generate some more ranting vigour… What’s left available, gravel grinding and XC Marathon racing? Holy fuck we are DOOMED.
Perhaps I need to get into Podcasting with the Rodfather? Would that make him the Podfather? Maybe its back to 5 day stage missions? Andes Pacifico anyone? I can’t even concentrate for 5 minutes let alone days… Holy shit, by the end of the year I’m going to be such a Twitter scrolling zombie I won’t even be able to feed myself.
Currently I’m also in the absurd state of not having a single Dirty mission lined up, rare, but a reminder the year ahead on the way to the Dirty 5th Birthday is going to be significant and life changing for a whole lot of different milestones and reasons: A return to NZ, the arrival of the Minimad, hopefully the arrival of a Nomad 4 (those two things may not be massively compatible one suspects) and close to when I sit down to pen the 5th Birthday post, I’ll be knocking right on the door of EWS Masters eligibility… Thank/Holy fuck… So, as you can see, it’s gonna be Yuuuuge and that’s without throwing in a single narcissistic cycling mission.
Based on the previous years Birthday posts (One, Two and Three), This is the part where I’m supposed to spew forth some sort of wisdom or mildly interesting snippet to help you from screaming “Fuck up CUNT!” at the person at work who won’t fuck up about their boring weekend… Alas, authentically I don’t have anything that will light fireworks, but let me dribble out this attempt like an Eddy Bos bike throw:
Travel and ride your bike, as much as you can, with people you like and want to be around, in as many new places as you can manage. Be authentic, ride what you want to ride and how you fucking well want to ride it, and if you can’t be a ‘Good’ Cunt, then don’t be one at all.
I know right, your inspiration is frothing over right now innit? Fucken blessed… Happy Birthday to all you rad cunts who keep it real, keep turning up and reading and keep smashing it out there on two wheels – Keep those good times rolling and I promise I won’t be late for turning 5.