Turns out he not only sports some incredibly ridiculous shades to appease his salary paying sponsors, but he is also a pretty fast sprinter (check out velonews to see a sweet picture of André "I'm ready for the Tour and should be the team's #1 sprinter ahead of Cav even though I got beat by one of my other HTC teammates" Greipel crossing the line 4th). Good for him. It is nice to see an American racer win on the big stage. Now all that has to happen is for Americans to care about it.Speaking of Americans, Penny and I were out for a nice dinner with some friends Friday evening before we leave Germany next month. Shortly after we sat down this smug ass-face that I will refer to as "Old Spice", sauntered over to our table and muttered something along the lines of, "I'm an American. You know what embarrasses me when I go out and I hear Americans talking, it's not that they are speaking English and not the native language, but they are always the loudest ones around." While Old Spice was scolding us, he was waving his napkin around like he was conducting an orchestra. To top it off, he was wearing a traditional Bavarian hunting jacket that, due to our newly discovered knowledge that he was an American, made his even more of a douche. Obviously his name isn't Old Spice or anything like that, it's probably more similar to Mr. D. E. Baggerson III. Oh yeah, I shouldn't forget the pretty important fact that when Old Spice was getting all Tommy-Toughnuts on us, there were a total of three tables that were occupied in the restaurant. Of course you can hear us, dickbag!
Once we left Old Spice we meet up with an old friend at Brauerei Spezial for a nice lager before snaking our way to the Emerald Isle, Bamberg's typical Irish pub (and the business that occupies the ground floor of our apartment building). Shortly after consuming a pint, the gang then beelined for the other Irish pub, Mulligan's, for a nightcap. Within a few moments of showing up, one of Penny's former employees bought a round of Irish Car Bombs. In and of itself a car bomb isn't that bad, but drinking your wife's right after yours can't be a good thing for your liver. To top it off, Penny had already dropped the shot into the Guinness and then decided she didn't want the drink. Awesome. Crawling into bed, we looked at the clock and realized that it was 4 am. Not a bad evening indeed.
I've been trying to watch stage three of the Giro, but all the links direct me to a tennis match. I guess instead of watching others ride I should go out and sit my out-of-shape ass in the saddle for a few miles. I can always catch the last few kilometers on Youtube anyway.
Unofficial douche bag podium results:
1. Old Spice
2. André Greipel
3. Lawrence Taylor
Ok, off to ride. Remember kids, don't do crack. Or underage girls.
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