Warning – Clearly #Bracelyfe has left me with too much time on my hands and a shortage of material…
To start with, you just smile and mutter something like “Oh, that’s a classic” or perhaps “I know, aren’t animals amazing“, but its starting to wear thin. Its not so much the whole conversation is about the animal in question, more than likely a dog or a cat, but its that your friend seems convinced that their pet is in fact a person. #catsarepeopletoo
Oh wow, Furry fuckbag watches TV… Or has its own iPad… Or its own social media set up… As the avalanche continues from your animal besotted friend, you mentally try and push aside the thought that they need to hurry the fuck up and have kids or buy a bike. As you stifle a yawn, the animal in question pulls up a chair at the dinner table and signals to you with a paw that it wants some of your chicken.
The only reprieve you manage to get is when your friend finally relents to go to the kitchen to get ‘Snuggle Ballsac’ its 15th treat of the day. This gives you the perfect chance to finally do what you have been itching to do since it came and sat opposite you and gave you the furry bird. Yes, give it the Mac look and hopefully, even mouth out the glorious words that go with it:
Don’t worry, no felines were harmed in the making of this post… Nor am I an animal hater, god knows I’m a fan of short haired pussy’s, but I do find my tongue moving firmly into the side of my cheek when people lose their shit and decide that household pets need to be elevated to human status.
You’ve all seen it, when ‘Bubbles’ or ‘Mr Twinkles’ is put up on the same level as people, which encompasses anything from food; “If that’s not Russian Caviar then Mr Socks isn’t interested” to medical care; “Actually, $19,000 for canine cardiothoracic surgery is very reasonable, and the bank was great about extending the mortgage”
Sure, animals can be cute and find your softer side. I would love a trail dog, especially one that could drag me into the recovery position and whilst I wouldn’t humanise it, it did get me thinking… If animals can apparently be people, then surely bikes can be people too!
Aside from the obvious flaws in my logic, it does open up the debate about what sort of people our bikes would be. Yes, if our favourite brands had personalities, what sort of people would they most be like? Would we like the people they turned out to be? Do they already have distinct traits? Lets match our pet loving friends (who now are hating my face) for a moment by personifying some well known cycling brands…
If Giant decided to suddenly be human its pretty clear who they would be… Yup, Ben from accounts:
Straightforward, not flashy, pretty cheap compared to their colleagues but fuck me, will absolutely get the job done when you need it. Quietly spoken, they don’t have a lot of time to wank on about themselves and thanks but no thanks on the craft beer, they’ll just have a pint of lager. Giant is pretty much Ben Smith down to the ground.
You probably looked at them at first glance and thought they looked a bit shit and basic, but then at some stage they came tearing past you as you make a mental note to conduct a JFK like cover up that someone on a Giant just made you look like you were manning a marshal post. Yes, shredded by some quiet unassuming nice guy that eats wheetbix by the dozen.
If we got off to an unassuming start, the next personality we have in the internet cage of criticism/death is more towards the Ronda Rousey end of the spectrum. Just who is the Big S personified? Oh yeah… Corporate guy!
Chances are they put ‘The‘ in front of their name, like ‘The Tod’ or ‘The Chad’ and there’s an even better chance you know one of these people in your workplace. Yes, that’s right, the dude with the bluetooth phone headset, the one they leave in even when they’re not on the phone, a phone which when they answer they simply say “Go“. In their mind, everyone in the office secretly wants to sleep with them, as they’re kind of a big deal… I mean, just look at the heavy pin stripe going down here? Can’t you tell this is a bespoke suit? Touch it… You know you want to.
Yes, the same douche fuckbag that when you’re in a dreaded ‘Townhall’ meeting at work and its time for ‘questions’ at the end, they grab the microphone, puff up their chest and proceed to let epic amounts of cuntery dribble out of their mouths, which by the time they’ve finished no question has appeared and instead its been a 2 minute expose of them marketing themselves in front of everyone. They’ll then fire off a few anal tongue darts to the most senior management drone in the room, before proceeding to spill red wine over the most voluptuous intern available.
Tod is indeed the master of self marketing and will always go for form over substance, holy shit their PowerCunt presentations are awesome! It doesn’t matter if its all non sensical, #whatsinmySWATYbox, as it looks excellent, especially when they invent new words/product categories.
Its not all just about marketing cuntery though, no no, Tod is also a wannabe lawyer and legal expert thanks to Boston Legal and Suits, so they may also sue you (or probably me) at any moment as well. So, to balance out perceived criticisms, to be fair to Tod/The Big S, they are good at collaborations, especially when it comes to hooking up with Swedes to make some magic… Even if it was too short for Gwin.
You know that crazy Auntie or Uncle that rocks up at Christmas and have once again ‘reinvented themselves’ into another weird format? (Overmountain? WTAF?) It may be a new religion, possibly the latest spiritual fad that means they’ve been in India cleaning shit off a piece of wood pretending to be a toilet.
If not that, then definitely a new diet craze, even one they have invented, like only eating 80 grams of artisanal chicken that has been strictly raised on a kale only diet its whole life, said chicken also had an individual name and Facebook page as well. High chance they’re also chasing whichever fitness fad that has come after they left the Crossfit cult they were in as it had become too main stream. Yes, everything about them needs to be proprietary and hopefully in their view, as weird as fuck at the same time.
They will also be covered in weird mismatched clothing and accessories that make no sense to anyone, just like a Cannondale component spec (really, Magura brakes are still a thing?). Be careful though, as Crazy Auntie/Uncle can crack and completely break down at any moment if you give them a hard time, so bear that in mind.
Ultimately you and your friends are initially curious about Weird Auntie or Uncle Cannondale, but after spending a bit of time with them you realise that you can’t be fucked with the weirdness and constant drama/clicking noises, and especially the ranting about creating yet another new standard… Or a category that we didn’t know we didn’t need.
This one is really simple… Everyone knows that one person in your whole group of friends that is as cool as FUCK, yes, you’ve even blocked out that your partner has a group photo on their phone that they’ve awkwardly cropped down to just them and the individual in question, mainly as you have a crush going on of your own.
Or in other words, if Santa Cruz was a dude, and yes, a fucken cool one at that, they would be Samuel L Jackson, perhaps with some Vincent Vega thrown in on the side, with Mark Wahlberg stopping by for a beer and Harvey from Suits working the BBQ… All happening at Kelly Slaters house:
Yeah, so everything they do is just rad and for the life of you, you just can’t figure out how they manage to continue to be so effortlessly fucking cool. They don’t chase fads unless it really makes sense, they combine common sense with style and they’re seen at all the events worth going to – And not just attending either, actually doing so in a way that is just straight up cool as fuck. Holy shit, lock me up, I’ve got a stiffy.
They don’t need to wank on about how cool they are either, as others do that for them… Did I mention that they had perfect abs and hair? No one knows how they always manage to have awesome colours or why their skin is so good, all you know is that you want to spend so much time with them its gone way beyond awkward. You also lose all legitimacy and self respect by writing overly gushy things about them on the internet, even in a slightly ambiguous format to try and semi cover-up your insane frothing…
Did I mention how cool they are?
Ahhhh… The Ukrainian mail order bride. Yes, they look really good based on their on-line photo, and you’re pretty sure its love at first click, but then when they arrive you realise not everything is quite as you’d like it. Want to swap a few traits or items here and there? Sorry buddy, you want enhancements, then pass us the plastic.
Initially you thought you were also being unique and slightly exotic getting a hot euro, but then it turns out everyone is in on it… Plus you don’t speak Ukrainian and now you don’t want to run with awkward one piece bar/stem BS they arrived with. Happy Holidays! Good luck shipping them home if something goes wrong too… #cunted.
Did those kids just look at you and call you creepy rich old guy? Fuck.
Ah… Italian (sort of, they sell Pizza in Quangou Provence), passionate… Dramatic… Curvy… Not exactly svelte, but even if you say to your mates you wouldn’t ride one, you fucken know you would if you could afford it. Its definitely Monica Bellucci we’re talking about here:
Admittedly not the lightest, but allegedly the ride is fantastic, lusted after by middle age men who used to play golf and looks the best in black… Yup, its pretty much the perfect fit. Every time you go out together people are going to look and stare, which of course makes you feel a little self conscious if you can’t really pull out the performance to match the profile.
But… doesn’t really help that she dated that cat lover back in July who publicly spent the month imitating an epileptic grasshopper trying to hump her. Distasteful. So in the end, desirable but not worth the hassle and cost.
“What was that guy’s name at the party again?”
“You know, the one in the corner with slacks and a polo shirt on?”
“Wasn’t there like, I dunno, 10 of those guys? They all kind of seemed the same to me dude”
“True… Peter? Oh, fucks knows… Actually, who gives a fuck really”
So I’m mixing in a bit of road an MTB here with this mob, but you get the drift. Looking at it another way, think of them as the following two groups of hapless people:
- Any CTU Agent that Jack Bauer says “Come with me” to in any series of ’24’… Dead within 3.5 minutes and you can’t remember what they looked like by the end of the episode
- Any Enterprise crew member on Star Trek that Kirk beamed anywhere with that wasn’t one of his GC mates. 3 were beaming down all right, but once again the cunt that got vaporised was long forgotten by the end of the hour.
Salarymen, disposable extra’s, the cardboard cut out dude in a polo shirt at some social event you wanted to eat a plate of turd rather than attend, yeah, you know the drill.
No, fuck off, I don’t want my windscreen cunted up while I’m at the lights, I need to check my Instagram feed.
Possibly also seen busking or misspelling the word ‘Fuck’ as they graffiti a bus stop in front of a surveillance camera.
So… On reflection, possibly quite a good idea to leave bikes to do what they do best… Just being bikes. I’m off to
shave tickle a pussy.