Flagstaff is a fun-filled freak show downtown on Thursday nights. We sat outside eating trendy Pacific Rim cuisine for cheap $$, and D saw no less than 20 people she knew. Characters like ‘precious’, a dude who was AAA-5 Diamond rated by one of her girlfriends – but he’s got a new girl now, some uptight wives, and a borderline stalker/psycho who drove D nuts at her last job. Throw in the Euro-trash who we…well, trash because of their sense of fashion and hairdo’s, but we love them for their tourist $$, and toss in the screaming kids and barking dogs and it was one loud-ass mercurial concert of international habits and cultural stereotypes. We got on our bikes to ride home and one block out of downtown – it was pitch black and as quiet as it gets.

Up at the crack of smack this morning to ride – 5:30am departure from Chateau Bozzelmann to meet a teammate. NO SHOW. Ahhh well, I still got in a solid hour .5 on some Velcro-like soil as it rained late last night. You hear me complaining about an hour .5 on the bike? Neva. 45 minutes feels great sometimes. I had hoop-like dreams of a 3-hour lung burner with CW but he was sleeping as hard as his kids were.

Lyza the Bean Machine is back tomorrow. Yes! It’s been 3 weeks and I’m crawlin’ the walls not seeing her. A good weekend is on tap – I hope yours rocks the mic.