Week 4 Mayoral Debate Results!

"You might remember this song from a little rock-u-mentary called "Give Me Shelter" about the Rolling Stones and their nightmare at Altamont.  That night, the Oakland chapter of the Hell's Angels had their way.  Tonight, it's my turn."

And, it was my turn.  Except, instead of the Rolling Stones, it was me.  And instead of Altamont, it was my office/cycling studio.  Instead of the Oakland chapter of the Hell's Angels, it was Coors Light.  What follows is a recap of my Mayoral Debate.

(The challenge was to do a drinking game modified for bicycling while watching The Cable Guy, which is the RAGBRAI of movies: it is brilliant, hilarious, and it just gets better every time.  Miles, beers, and style all important factors). 

Figuring out a time to do one's weekly Mayoral Debate is a bit of a challenge.  You know there is going to be exercise so you need to be somewhat rested.  There's also going to be obscene quantities of Coors Light, so you need to not need to function afterwards.  My sweet spot turned out to be Friday night. 

Tell me where you like it!

I'd come home from work, had a beer, played with the puppy, then went to a special yoga class for the cure.  After yoga there was special for-the-cure cake and for-the-cure wine and for-the-cure mixes of dry roasted peanuts and candy corn.  I was a hot, sugar addled mess afterwards.  So, I figured, I should ride my bike. 

Artfully overexposed "before" image of me on the trainer.

I convinced the The White Tiger to buy my supplies, and I set up the trainer.  My only road block was The Cable Guy was no longer watch instantly on Netflix.  In a panic, I downloaded it from Amazon, which means, it is on my computer forever.  Hurray! 

The Tiger very sweetly asked if it would be okay if he didn't watch me ride the trainer while watching The Cable Guy.  I can't imagine why someone would not want to spend their Friday evening in a small room, with a movie blaring, while a chubby girl sweats metabolized Coors Light all over the place, but different strokes right? 

Coozie inspired by Chip's mustache in the unprovoked bathroom beating of Owen Wilson.

Salt peanuts!

Chip this isn't funny!

 

 

Holiday came into visit me.  She was very confused both by what I was doing and by the volume of the flick. Eventually, she tried to sniff at the pedals and I nicked her in the head.  She let out a little yelp.  I didn't see her after that.

They say "Steven" a lot in this movie.

The ride was going great, expect, I had a hard time with some of the drinking game elements.  It was hard to figure out how long "drink 5" and "drink 30" were while pedaling.  It got harder as the night went on.  

I was ready to rock.

At some point, I looked at my computer and realized I was only at about 13 miles.  Unacceptable.  I decided I need to pick up the pace.  I was aiming for the 25 mile mark.  I think all the Silverchair on the sound track really helped.

You can do your shopping from home, or play Mortal Kombat with a friend in Vietnam.

As the climax of the movie approached, I went for a ride on the information super highway. 

This concludes our broadcast day: click.

Finally, the credits rolled. 

Wake up little Snoozie, smell the smelling salts.

I totally spent.

Bike = scary.

Holiday refused to come into the room, even though the Tiger tried to lure her with treats.

That is a lot of Rocky Mountain water.

9 beers (how many points is that?)

27.56

27.56 miles. (points?)

But, because I was drunk, I decided I hadn't made any significant achievements in the style-category.

"You might want to buckle up; I've had a couple of drinks."

So, the White Tiger lent me his flight suit and tool belt. 

I'll juice you up.

And, I tried to do my best Cabl-a-impression.

Then, because we didn't have any scramby eggs, I ate a bunch of leftover Thai food.  Then, I passed out.  Then, Steven called.  I am not sure what we talked about.  That's when I hit rock bottom.

So, here's my theory: exercise is like Red Bull.  It makes you feel like you can drink a lot more than you can.  I forgive myself, but I am not sure my neurologist will agree.

And, it turns out, it can be fun to ride the trainer, if you do it "Mayoral Style." 


Boo-Bam.