It's the 2014 Vuelta a Espana, Beeyotches (Unless You're Chris Horner, That Is)!

Whoa nellie, viciously-underappreciated Grand Tour fans, the fabulous Vuelta a Espana route is out, and it's a humdinger! Out: 4 of the 12 mountaintop finishes at last year's brutally entertaining route, for a mere sprinter-friendly total o' 8, the Euskaltel-lovin' (oh! I still can't stand it!) Pyrenees, !@#$-me-I'm-the-reigning-Vuelta-champ-and-I-can't-even-score-an-invite-to-the-presentation-much-less-a-team-for-the-damn-party Chris Horner. In: I-better-at-least-save-my-rep-with-this-one-if-I-choke-on-the-Tour Contador, I-will-break-your-domestiques'-kneecaps-to-grab-this-sucker-if-I-can't-win-the-Giro Purito Rodriguez, 1 team time trial, 2 individual team trials, 5 medium/rolling stages, 5 freakin' sprint finishes (and what the Tour de France hell is that about?) and, despite its less extravagant sadism than before, really a quite leg-nipping final 10 days that oughtn't decide the final podium 'til even wee Contador is crying in his muesli. And damn, a pile a' heretical *sprints* just when dear Euskaltel even got a credible fast-man on its squad last year! Anyway, we still love you Vuelta--and riders, quit usin' it as a late-season consolation prize for your blowin' the Tour!

Back to Business (School): meantime, the symbiotic brothers Schleck are back in action, with Frank, who actually can ride alone (albeit with a little, well, help), inexplicably stuck changing diapers for Andy *again* so the baby brother can crawl away, and, just to show they're done with their season-long casual-Friday-attitude bull!@#$, Trek's put 'em in somber banker businessy pinstripes, with a witty white shoulder for a little wacky cyclist pizzaz. That oughta make up for Andy's inability to descend--maybe someone in the pack'll mistake him for the tarmac and inadvertently give 'im a little push. Oh, it's enough to make one long for the hot-pink Telekom days--at least we've got the riotous Yellow-Fluo to be able to pick *some* guys out in the peloton! And in the interests of ladylike delicacy, I'll spare you today's lurid twit-fest o' revealing Astana'n'Thor Hushovd photos, at least unless y'all ask--after all, isn't that what Pippo Pozzato is for?