It's Yer New Year's Resolutions for the Peloton!

Look, most of these folks--dear as they are to all of us--are either too inept, too narcissistic, or too darned clueless to help themselves for 2017. And while the philosophers say the unexamined life is not worth living, I say--if we can examine it for them--it darn well is. So listen up beloved cyclists, while we make Yer 2016 New Year's resolutions for the peloton!

1. Brad Wiggins: oh, !@#$ off. Really, who cares? We're all sick and tired of hearing about you anyway!

2. Oleg Tinkov: WELL I ALREADY !@#DAMN SAVED CYCLING, SO NOW I'M GONNA GO AND FIX...UH, FOOTBALL! NO, CURLING! NO, TABLE TENNIS...!@#DAMMIT MINION BRING ME ANOTHER BOTTLE OF VODKA!

3. Peter Sagan: seriously, do I have to resolve anything? We all know I'm winning everything I want in 2017 anyhow!

4. Tom Boonen: I will win my 5th and final Paris-Roubaix. So suck it, Fabian!

5. Race Moto Drivers: we're gonna remember to put our contact lenses in this year. And take a coupla driving lessons. And try not to confuse the cyclists with freakin' bowling pins. And...

6. Chris Froome: I swear, when the narcs come knocking, I will be exactly as loyal to my former captain Brad Wiggins as I was during the 2012 Tour de France. Sucker!

7. Roman Kreuziger: well, I'm on a new team now...wait, who's the team captain I'm supposed to screw again?

8. Alberto Contador: Up. I will stay *up*, no matter what train-wreck idiot tries to take me down. Right, and I'm coming for you at the Tour, Chris you joyless android!

9. Greg Van Avermaet: I resolve that the next jack!@# that calls me an "almost-man" is gonna get it right in the kisser. I AM THE OLYMPIC CHAMPION FER CHRISSAKES!

10. Nacer Bouhanni: I will not pick stupid fights with random drunks break my hand punching 'em out and ruin my entire team's Grand Tour season. I will hold back, and punch out Mark Cavendish during a sprint finish instead.

11. Alejandro Valverde: I will meticulously follow the orders of my DS and unequivocally support my captain Nairo Quintana as his loyal-est domestique. From the top spot of the podium, that is! Oh, I'm sorry, was that my earpiece that I accidentally tossed back to be crunched under the front wheel of the team car?

12. Marianne Vos: You won't *make* me a three-week Tour de France? I'll damn well *ride* the three-week Tour de France--what, you gonna stop me?

13. Fabio Aru: I will...no, I probably *will* have one spectacularly crappy race-wrecking day at my Grand Tour target again. Yeah, you've got competition now, Valverde!

14. Dave Brailsford: uh, Dave? Dave? Pick up the phone! Where are you, man? Anybody seen him? Wait, what's this about a plane ticket to the unmapped Amazon jungle?

Well folks, them's mine, if I missed any, have at--and riders, listen up, we're trying to *save* you here!

It's Yer 2016 Racejunkie Merry Festivus Gift List for the Peloton!

Yes, no matter what we celebrate this time of year--or with what delightful, appalling debauchery we celebrate it--we've all got one thing in common: we love our dear peloton and its saintly (or dastardly) denizens. And what better way to show how much we love them than to give them the wonderful gifts they so rightly deserve? Ergo, cyclists and cycling fans, here's Yer Annual Racejunkie Merry Festivus Gift List for the Peloton!

Alberto Contador: what else? The 2017 Tour de France, baby! You can come back and re-win the beautiful Vuelta the *next* year instead!

Chris Froome: a warm, hearty, sincere congratulations from Alberto Contador on yer second place in the Tour de France. It feels almost as good as 1st place, amirite?

Tom Boonen: what else? A record 5th Paris-Roubaix, baby! Crappy, season-hosing crashes, bad luck, and sudden nerves, begone--YOU ARE TORNADO TOM, !@#DAMMIT, YOU HAVE GOT THIS IN THE BAG!

Mikel Landa: okay, I *know* I am supposed to root for an Italian, like Vincenzo Nibali or Astana starlet Fabio Aru, to win the 100th Giro d'Italia. But I guess I better get ready for my eternal trip to hell, because you, Mikel, are not only a noble ex-Euskaltel-Euskadi rider, but also doomed to play second fiddle to that snotty little !@#wipe Froome for the rest of your career if you stay with your current !@#$ty squad. Win the Giro, Mikel, and you can name yer price--and yer team--for 2018!

Pierre Rolland: yeah, that's right, he just called out the sainted Tour de France for being boring! And he's *French*! A gold-plated--no, solid-gold--superfast, supersexy blinged-out super-powered Lamborghini for that boy!

Nacer Bouhanni: some common sense. And some boxing gloves, to protect your delicate cyclist hands in case you randomly decide to ruin your whole team's Grand Tour again in some stupid beef with an obnoxious hotel guest. Seriously, you're an actual pugilist--you don't already *own* these things?

Annemiek Van Vlueten: well, you're already clearly a bounce-backing bad-@!# after your terrifying spine-fracturing crash at the Olympics and incredibly speedy recovery--and not only race *return*, but immediate *win*--at Lotto Belgium Tour, so I suppose there's not much I can get you that you won't perfectly be able to get for yourself--but damn, I'm wishing you the World Championship anyway!

Mark Cavendish: you actually had a pretty decent year, but still and all, you're not *quite* back to your usual whinging, smack-talking, sprint-obliterating self. I gift you your mojo--because *you* oughta be able to win without head-butting, Cav!

Women's Cycling: !@#$ this one-day 'La Course' dabbling--a real, three-week race-o'-destiny, just like the boys get. And some !@#damn decent paychecks while we're at it!

UCI: a fence. A giant, 50-foot-high, concrete, steel-reinforced, glass-shards-and-barbed-wire-covered fence that goes all around Europe. Now keep that tyrant asshat Oleg Tinkov away from our sport!

Team Sky: a year's gift subscription to Federal Express. Seriously, numbnuts, a *team courier*? Why not just hire a !@#$ing marching band with a majorette in spangles and a big !@#$ing banner screaming "I'm carrying a big bag of dope here!" for cripes' sakes?!

Dave Brailsford: speaking of which, a linear, credible excuse for Brad Wiggins' "mystery package," which, after months of sordid speculation (mine included), you grudgingly claimed to be a pile of, yes, ordinary, harmless *decongestant*, which is apparently (1) easily available over the counter without hauling it a thousand miles through Europe and (2) actually violently contraindicated for the bull!@#$ asthma diagnosis you *did* scam a TUE for Brad for. Brilliant!

Brad Wiggins: a peaceful, happy, *permanent* retirement. RETIREMENT already, you hear me? FFS!

Roman Kreuziger: You screwed--and dissed!--your own team leader Alberto Contador, and relentlessly butt-kissed your repulsive wingnut publicity-ho team boss Oleg Tinkov. Wishing you *karma*, jack!@#!

Amets Txurruka: Santa, I have literally been tweet-storming you Christmas carol lyrics for this talented boy--and most importantly, ex-Carrot--every single day for the last month. CAN WE PLEASE GET AMETS A CONTRACT ALREADY?

The lot of you: may your favorite rider ever win, your favorite Classic ever cobble, your Belgian beer be ever cold, beautiful Giro never end, your Tour de France--aw, who the hell cares--and your fabulous Vuelta go ever upwards. Now break out the nog--or glogg--and let's toast a Very Merry Whatever You Celebrate to fans and riders, one and all!

It's Yer What the Hell There's Still Racing and Stuff After the Vuelta? Update!

Yes, as we slowly wake up from our post-Vuelta stupor, and the world's best athletes continue to recover from their garbage-bag TUE hangovers, the world of cycling charges ahead, so what're you missing? Buckets!

Sprint Train Sounding Louder/Everyone Jump Upon the Sprint Train: this week, the Classics boys, so long dormant, come out to play again, this time at the beloved Eneco Tour, where Can'tTellTheTwoLottosApart's Dylan Groenewegen snagged the first sprint stage in a chaotic--read "universally choked"--lead-out, and Nacer Bouhanni, who came in second ahead of new Eurochamp stars-man Peter Sagan, celebrated his podium spot by gratuitously punching two random members of the public and the guy who hands the winner the hot-off-the-presses leader's jersey. We're proud of you too, Nacer--you're behaving less Cavishly every day!

To Gasp, Perchance to GC: and, in "seriously,-we're-not-doping news", the controversy continues over the commie-conspiracy "Fancy Bear" athlete Therapeutic Use Exemption leak, which revealed an astonishing 74 separate TUEs for Chris Froome alone at this year's Tour de France, including totally coincidentally performance-enhancing meds for such common pro-cyclist maladies as asthma, high cholesterol, influenza, the common cold, arthritis, gout, heartworm, rabies, saddlesores, toenail fungus, and a particularly nasty case of dandruff. Geez, you really *can't* win a Grand Tour nowadays unless you're damn near dead! Over on Planet Bull!@#$, immortal Tour de France champ/unendingly self-promoting autobiographer Brad Wiggins justified getting over the Great Britain peloton's "total taboo" against using needles in order to receive a deep-tissue drug injection by saying, "I was on so much other !@#$, they coulda jabbed me with that thing they used to eviscerate Mel Gibson in "Braveheart" and I wouldn't'a felt it." Thanks for the clarification, Brad!

Move It or Lose It: finally, the smokin' hot end-of-season transfer market speeds on, as Alberto Contador explained his long-anticipated shift to Trek (bringing along like the only 2 teammates who didn't stab 'im in the back this season) by opining that, while the collapse of his team surely played some role in his wing-spreading, "there's only so many times even a diplomatic guy like me can say he's "grateful" to be Oleg Tinkov's b!@#$." In other team news, new-but-bangin' squad Dimension Data was briefly in danger of losing its coveted World Tour license for lack of points, at least until Mark Cavendish met privately with UCI prez Brian Cookson for tea, reportedly smashing a crumpet into dust with his bare fist and telling Cookson over the clotted cream that "this'll be your !@#$ing face, you !@#$ing !@#%!", after which Cookson announced "an accounting error" at an afternoon press conference and granted DiData its license back after all. Welcome back Dimension Data--and smooth save there Mark!

Well, until Tom Boonen takes an Eneco stage (shut up! will too! go to hell!), that oughta hold us, at least til some other dimwit breaks with the proud history of team d--nutritional guidance by getting popped for some sketchy "internet supplement" and ruins the fun for the rest of the riders. Allez Toooooooooooooooooooooom!

It's Yer Paris-Roubaix In Review! and, A Friendly Note About Philippe Gilbert #ParisRoubaix

Yep, the Hell of the North is done and dusted, so if you weren't glued to your illicit porn-spammed feed glomming on to every magnificent, tragic second for 6 straight hours, what'd you miss? Here, some key points, and a Bonus Friendly Note about Philippe Gilbert:

1. Peter Sagan: no-one else is ever, ever going to help you. And the one guy who would've in a pinch, is retiring. Keep this in yer damn head while you're team-shopping, doofus!

2. Peter Sagan: calm down, everybody. He's still gonna win it. Just not this year.

3. UCI: in all seriousness. The sport's just lost an innocent rider in a terrible tragedy. You *know* cyclists go down in crashes with motos close behind them all the time. Now Elia Viviani gets run over, fortunately with no worse than a few contusions. *What* else is it gonna take before you institute a minimum distance between race motos and riders?!

4. Tom Boonen, man. Gutted. I'm *still* crushed!

5. Mathew Hayman, man. If you're gonna be a domestique most of your career, this is one hell of a reward!

6. Fabian Cancellara. Two silly crashes, one total legend. Chapeau and au revoir, Spartacus!

7. A women's Flanders is awesome. So where the !@#$'s the women's Paris-Roubaix?

8. Get well soon Mitch Docker Niki Terpstra and the rest of the wounded from the cobblestones!

9. So Phil Gaimon apparently rode off course and out of the race. Um, not to deface the hallowed pave' or nothin', but, y'know, *arrows* maybe for these guys?

10. So now not only is Philippe Gilbert !@#$ed out of Brabantse Pijl and probably the Ardennes Classics as well, but now the !@#clown who broke Gilbert's finger in an altercation is saying that Philippe is the aggressor *and* our BMC hero apparently laid into 'im with some kind of pepper spray. Leaving aside the fact that, well, I call bull!@#$, but YOU'RE TALKING TO A GUY WHO SCARED THE CRAP OUT OF A THIRD GRADER BY SCREAMING IN HER FACE DURING THE TOUR DE FRANCE! AND IF HE'S TOUGH ENOUGH TO DO THAT, YOU KNOW HE IS GONNA TAKE YOU *OUT*, MOTHER!@#$ER! For heck's sake, man, what the hell were you even thinking?

And the Wheels On the Bus--Uh, Bike--Go Ronde and Ronde: It's the Tour of Flanders, Baby!

Yes, after a truly unspeakably tragic week, cycling--heavy-hearted as it is--is healing the best and humblest way it knows how, by taking on the glory, the pain, the blood, and the sheer leg-crunching suffering of the cobblestones at the revered Ronde van Vlaanderen. Pre-race controversy: no, not whether Sagan shaved his freakin' legs you prurient pervs, but some squads were apparently *not* allowed to recon certain sections of the course and, as a result, are not only spittin' fire but already preparing their post-race press-conference justification for how it's all the jerkface organizers' fault for not even allowing them to prep enough to win. Anyhoo, on tap for the gentlemen: And for the women: And even in "tiny", honey, that spells "agony"!

On form for the men: well, after what seems to be a mathematically endless series of Fabs-vs.-Tom articles and soft-porn photo-spreads, all bets are on the retiring last-stand Cancellara for a historic 4-peat vs. the tactically-blockheaded but uncontrollably powerful Peter Sagan, tho' if it comes down to the motivator of "rider most likely to be beaten senseless with a cobblestone by his rabid foaming oligarch team boss if he loses," it's clear we ain't looking at Trek-Segafredo here for the win. Me, I'm thinkin' last year's king Kristoff is just too marked as never before, I'm rooting pointlessly for we love Tom Boonen who shut up and go to hell is just holding it all back for Roubaix, not getting at all the hate for Greg Van Avermonster, and still holding onto the fond delusion that dashing if perpetually underperforming bon vivant Pippo Pozzato's got enough legs to (1) fit in a nice new trophy tat somewhere and (2) seriously stick it to those unappreciative snots at Lampre, at least with an upgrade to the podium. Yeah, yeah, Saganator's got it, forza Pippo, even tho' I hope Tommeke still kicks your !@#!

For the women: holy crap have we got powerhouse city here, with a huge percentage of the likely contenders being both uninjured and on spectacular early-season form, between reigning rainbow jersey and so far absolutely uncursed and unbeatable Lizzie Armistead, surprise (to me anyway, but I'm just yer average eejit) Gent-Wevelgem winner/Armistead teammate Chantal Blaak, and, of course, defending Ronde ruler Wiggle's Elisa Longo Borghini, and as a reminder, last year's podium roundout of Jolien D'hoore and Anna Van Der Breggen. We'll see who's still standing (or crawling) on the Paterberg--but go Lizzie, how can you not root for someone with so much talent grit and total bad-!@#ery?

And in case you forgot, here's how it played out last year for the men: and the women:


Now, off to the races, kids--may your tires never puncture, your bike not spontaneously combust, your bidon never be empty, and most of all, may Fabian Cancellara have mercy upon your doomed, desperate souls!

It's Yer Post-Dauphine Pre-Route del Sud Pre-Tour de France Roundup!

Smooth Operator: so everyone basically accuses Astana of being an obviously-doping pack o' Postal-Discovery autobot freaks at the Giro d'Italia, when they won like 4 back-to-back mountain stages with nary a breath inhaled, and what does Astana do at the Dauphine? Yep, defending Tour champ Vincenzo Nibali goes on an insane (and insanely-allowed) hammerfest breakaway--and wisely bonks the next day and blows the entire race. Well played, Alexander Vinokourov, well-played!

The Wind Beneath My Wings: y'know, I'm no aero expert, and I know the guy actually *won* the whole show, but couldn't Froomey grab even *more* seconds--hell, minutes! hours!--if he could find a way to halfway contain those gangly flapping pterodactyl wings of his? Still and all, he did manage to overtake incredible class-act Tejay Van Garderen--but in addition to general tenacity, and a beautifully-earned if rather regretted second place, the prize for Iconic Photograph for the Ages goes to Tejay--complimenti to a true campione!

Peto, Sit!: and, just as Tinkoff-Saxo was reduced to tweeting poor Peter Sagan congratulations today for his phenomenal performance of, um, posing for a freakin' fan selfie, the boy comes roaring back from his Classics funk and nails a hotly-contested uphill sprint at the Tour de Suisse with the expert help of Rafal Majka. In return, mercurial team boss Oleg Tinkov lavishly complimented the Saganator as a "good boy." Uh-oh, 'Berto--with the Route du Sud just ahead, not only has Oleg screwed you against the likes of Froome and Nairo with the Giro-Tour double, but now he might decide to actually squander some domestique resources you can't afford on Peter at the Tour de France--for god's sake, get this impending disaster under *control*!

We Interrupt This Broadcast For This Swooning Fan-Geek Moment: so what happens when you respond to a general twitter-shoutout to ask total Amazons Giorgia Bronzini and Elisa Longo Borghini at Wiggle a question? They answer--their happiest day on the bike ever was the first training day coming back from her 2013 crash (Borghini) and "the rest day!" (Bronzini) Oh, I'm just basking in their reflected smashingness even now...

It Was An Itsy-Bitsy, Teeny-Weeny...Aw, You Know the Rest: finally, as the women's peloton struggles for even half-assed respect, middling pay, and frankly hardly any TV coverage at all, let's take a minute to give massive props to the tone-deaf geniuses at the Flanders Diamond Tour, who utterly overshadowed Jolien Dhoore's smashing win by, as a disgusted Marijn de Vries promptly posted on social media, arranging a four-pack of heels-and-bikini-clad model-babes below the podium. Fortunately, as venerable UK rag the Guardian has reported, the Diamond Tour has since profusely apologized, promising that for next year's race, they'll be exploiting the women in skimpy Sports-Illustrated-worthy one-pieces instead. Yay, progress!

PS Didja see Tommeke win today at the Rund um Koln? Didja? Me neither, so here's some video!

G-1, Baby: It's Yer Giro d'Italia In Preview Part Tre, The Climbers and Hot-Gossip Roundup! #Giro

Woot woot!: yes, after 11 months of lonesome agony, the smashing Giro d'Italia is back, and with just one day til the GC contenders find out whose lumpen teammates screwed 'em in the team time trial already, it's time for our last preview! Who's left to cover: the climbers, the assorted stage fighters, and of course yer random slimy hot-gossip smack-talk roundup! The score:

The Climbers: sure, Movistar's saving Valverde to back-stab Quintana at the first sign of any weakness at the Tour de France, but even better, they Sky and even Astana've brought half of Euskaltel with 'em, and while Porte Alberto Uran and Aru are keeping their eyes and wheels locked on each other, this leaves a blazin' field of ex-Carrots free to do what they do best, unleash the pain on every damn climb from the Mortirolo to Sestriere. Vai vai Mikels Landa and Nieve, Benat Intxausti, Igor Anton, and Ion Izagirre! Oughta win *some* kinda stage *somewhere* after all that hype then his disastrous 2014: Carlos "!@#$ Off Comparing Me to Quintana Already!" Betancur.

The Sprinters: look, it's the Giro dammit, so who gives? But still, it's all about Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel, whose main competition is either at the Amgen EPO Tour of California (Cav) or felled by some strength-sapping virus and desperately trying to come back for the Tour (Kittel). Me, I'm calling we love Tom Boonen, whose recent dislike for the argy-bargy of his youth is outweighed by the motivator that his Classics campaign was completely !@#$ed, sentimental fave Ale-Jet "Wheezy" Petacchi, back for one more round with the podium babes, and, because he's also an ex-Euskie, surprise flatlander hit Juan Jose Lobato. Gorilla, you got *no* excuses if you blow this!

The Puncheurs: they're called "puncheurs" because if you !@#$ around and blow the breakaway in the last two kilometers, they'll punch you in the face. Also, they have a lotta power outta seemingly nowhere, and a distinct penchant for spoiling everyone's else's fun. We love Philippe Gilbert, who so fiercely and famously faced off with a giant crash-causing dog and his child charge some time back; "Bling" Matthews, who looked so dashing in pink lo those many days last year; Sylvain Chavanel (shut up! can so either!), Luca "the Beard" Paolini, and Simon Gerrans. Come on Chava--we know damn well you still got it!

The Latest: finally, I'd be wholly remiss if I didn't remind my loyal reader(s) that: (1) Reigning Tinkoff-Saxo megalomaniac Oleg Tinkov says if Alberto Contador doesn't win this thing in his sleep, he's a hopeless weakling weenie; (2) he'd win it himself if his damn knee hadn't been bothering him, but it's still strong enough to kick Berto's butt off Aprica if he don't save Oleg's ego; (3) no less a cycling god than Bernard Hinault says Alberto can do the Giro-Tour double, so no pressure if you prove *him* wrong; and (3) Tinkoff-Saxo have, in addition to a video of comely two-time champ Ivan Basso's plan for victory, released this *hugely* intimidating photograph of an intently-focused Giro squad absolultey *smoking* a woman riding home with her groceries. Beat *that*, Aru you poser pretender wannabe!

Now Win Flanders For Me, Sagan, Or I'll Grind You Into Dog Meat!: It's Your Ronde in Preview! #rvv

No Pressure: let's face it: our little Sagz has lost some of his joie de vivre. Whatever tactical sense he had has disappeared like a dirtbag ahead of a drug test, he's got squat in the tank when he needs it most, and the poor kid's been so down he hasn't even had the heart to pop a wheelie onto Contador's head. So you've got *one* day to get your mojo back before your desperate boss Oleg goes completely crazy-!@# on your overpaid overhyped has-been butt--but no pressure!

Oh Tommeke!: and, it goes without saying that a Flanders without Boonen and Cancellara is a party without a cake, so while I dry my maudlin tears and grab a cold one to scream my head off watching everyone else slug it out, I gotta say, I know furry bad-!@# Luca Paolini's justly working for strongman Alexander Kristoff and all, but if *I'd* just won Gent-Wevelgem in total dominating fashion, I'd be sending that guy back to the team car to get me a refreshing lemonade while the rest of squad carried me on my shoulders on a palanquin all the way to the line up at the front of the race tomorrow, which, among other issues like a complete lack of athletic ability, is why I'm a selfish !@#hole and not an incredible gracious cycling champion. So this leaves us with a wide-open race with a slew of guys who've been absolutely blossoming in the absence of Fabs and Tommeke's long shadows, like just-dented John Degenkolb, Van Avermaet, Stybar, gutsy E3 Harelbeke winner Geraint Thomas, and former shock champ Stijn Devolder, as well as, well, realistically, everybody else in the peloton from Belgium. My dark-horse fave? Niki Terpstra. My guilty-pleasure-no-chance-in-hell-but-I-still-love-to-watch-him-anyway? The all-style GQ king Pippo Pozzato. Still, forza grande Luca!

The Forecast: 48 F and sunny. Like even *that's* gonna help you poor bastards!

Ow, !@#$!: finally, your course map is here, and while it's gonna be a bangin' bucket o' excitement from start to finish for us, it is, as always, a study in total !@#$ing bone-jarring suffering for the peloton, including three trips up the Kwaremont, a spin up the Paterberg, and, of course, the fearsome pave of the Koppenberg. Me, I'm hoping someone smashes apart a potential bunch sprint by a daring far-out attack. And to remind you, like you needed it, here, your tribute to Fabs' decisive 2014 victory, as the big guy (get well soon!) brings it in:

So good luck boys--both winning the race, and just plain staying upright in one (especially your collarbones) piece--let the pain and glory begin!

Omloop-de-loop: It's Classics Season, Beeyotches! And, E3 Harelbeke Fixes It All #cycling

Woot Woot!: yes, cycling fans, now that the peloton's had the chance to stretch their legs, test their form, explode their tires and get sand-whipped into whimpering nubs by the early-season desert races, it's time for Belgian Classics season to begin, and we're off with the teaser Omloop Het Nieuwsblad on Saturday, and the thrillin' Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne on Sunday. Contenders: first, last year's respective champs surprise Ian Stannard, and TOM !@#$IN' BOONEN baby! Other hunters: Greg Van Avermaet, Sep Vanmarcke, Niki Terpstra (don't even think of screwing Tommeke, twerp!), Mark Cavendish, basically every other rider in Belgium, and, ever-hopeful but rather-tippy Tyler Farrar. Me, I'd completely dig Tyler stomping the naysayers, but we love Tom apparently hasn't Omloop on his palmares, so that's who I'm rooting for for Saturday. Allez allez Tornado Tooooooom! Here, he bags (of course) Kuurne last year: Toooooooooooom!

TuttoBitchin': and, what a thrilla to see our beloved Boston get a shout-out from our beloved Tuttobiciweb, in the form of an intrepid cyclist's snow-tunnel: Or wait, is the Stelvio stage from last year's Giro? Naw, that guy's way too big to be Nairo...

T!@s and A!@: finally, huge redemption by the fine gents at E3 Harelbeke, who, after their grossly offensive and piglike ad featuring a distinctly unhilarious riff on Peter Sagan's ol' grab-!@# routine, showed their true and sensitive understanding of the issue by pulling the adv--uh, REMOVING THE UCI LOGO FROM THE AD. When confronted about the continued use of the picturesque banners, baffled Harelbeke chief Hugh Hefner responded, "of *course* it's sexy!" Sex*ist*, sex*ist*, you irredeemable clown!

Phil! Paul! Holy Crap It's We Love Robbie McEwen! The Road Season Finally Kicks Off #cycling

Yep, Still Rocks: sure, part of the reason we love legendary sprint god Robbie "the Pocket Rocket" McEwen is his pronounced tendency to actually physically rip the face of any unfortunate s.o.b. who !@#$ed with him, but we will take him being back as a commentator instead since we have to, and to all you Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen haters ticked over some minor detail like being a complete perpetual Lance Armstrong apologist and occasionally lately misnaming a rider who surely wasn't really so important anyway, stuff it, 'cause with the dulcet tones of Phil and Paul and Robbie to shout out the Aussies for the Tour Down Under's preview race, the 2015 road season is officially underway! First blood: Marcel Kittel, over Juan Jose "Can You Believe a Sprinter Who Can Come In Second to Kittel Got His Start at Freakin' Euskaltel?!" Lobato, though I note that chief smackdown rival Cav is *not* on hand, so Cavendish loyalists, not to worry just yet! On the women's side: Melissa Hoskins takes the day while Italian teammate Scandolara holds the GC. Forza ragazza--but watch out, Bronzini was already fifth in the sprint!

Boonen's Year Starts Off Right: and, congratulations to casa Boonen, as he and his companion Lore are now proud parents of wee twins Jacqueline and Valentine. Aside from, y'know, the life-changing experience of being a parent and all, what a great psychological boost to the start of the year for Tommeke--if his body doesn't now collapse from the impending total lack of sleep!

Gratuitous Fabian Cancellara FanBoy (and Girl) Swoonfest: meantime, as the heat-loving hardmen get ready for action in Australia, Trek stud-pup Fabian Cancellara, fresh off deciding to bail on his hour record attempt, is training in balmy Mallorca with Frank Schleck and co. Look--sheep--yeah, I figure none of you'd've noticed the background!

All right, on to the Tour Down Under--yeah, yeah, I get that Richie Porte's supposed to win the thing, but here's rooting one last time for retiring former Tour de France champ/ex World Road Champ/general gritty bad-!@# Cadel!

The Diss of Being Nibali: finally, yet another Tour de France GC contender, Nairo Quintana, has weighed in who he expects to be his biggest rival in July--yep, last year's crash-out Alberto Contador. Y'know, it's about the umpteenth interview with these guys, and not *one* of 'em's picked Nibali as the number-one dude to fear. If you were Nibali, wouldn't *you* be getting awfully pissed off by now?

It's Yer 2015 Pro Cycling Year in Preview! (Yeah, You Read Right)

Well, the past has been covered, the gifts've been given, the awards accepted, and the resolutions made--now, it's time for the infallible predictions of the 2015 Year in Preview!

January: Time for new team kits! Astana emblazons front of jersey with giant Brian Cookson portrait; Tinkoff-Saxo replicates maillot jaune for entire squad, in case there's any doubt who's just gonna win it anyway; Sky ditches disastrous 2014 mesh skinsuit, goes for straight-on naked; cold-loving Belgian hardmen accidentally melt into tarmac at Tour Down Under; overcaffeinated Jens Voigt accidentally DSes Tour of California, Giro, Tour de France, Vuelta, and men's world championships several months before they actually occur.

February: The Tour of Qatar rolls out! Sagan wheelies over finish line, relegated from first-place finish in sprint; Mark Cavendish accidentally cuts into Roberto Ferrari's line with a chainsaw; Marcel Kittel spontaneously combusts when hair gel reaches critical 458 degrees Fahrenheit in blazing sun; Samuel Sanchez announces late 2015 contract with WHERE THE !@#$ IS SAMUEL SANCHEZ' NEW CONTRACT !@#DAMMIT?!

March: Woo hoo--it's the Classics! Fabian Cancellara falsely accused of "bike doping" when exhaust fumes from "cool new bidon" make lead group choke to death; Boonen wins Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne over Moreno Hofland for second consecutive year with last-moment "bike throw" into Hofland's head; Andre Greipel ensures sprinter's race at Milano-Sanremo by personally stretching the Poggio out flat with bare hands.

April: It's the Hell o' the North! ASO enforces rule against riding alongside cobbles by digging trenches on both sides filled with hissing deadly pit vipers; Boonen domestiques Niki Terpstra to win, again, by carrying him on piggyback through Arenberg Forest; Philippe Gilbert sweeps Aredennes Classics by whanging BMC directeur sportif over head with spoke wrench until he lets him break his contract, ride solo.

May: Yep, Grand Tour season begins--it's the beautiful Giro d'Italia, baby! Oleg Tinkoff entices Froome, Nibali, Quintana to ride Giro-Tour-Vuelta triple by threatening to break their legs off if they don't; collapsing glacier slices top off Stelvio, sending it plummeting onto peloton, race organizers deride riders as "pack of wussies" for not digging out from under 2.5 million metric tons of granite as Nairo Quintana takes stage saying he thought it "was just a pebble kicked up by the Orica-Greenedge team car." Guess who wins again!

June: Pre-Tour prep time! Sky to race organizer's house to completely revise course to Froomey's specifications; Tinkoff-Saxo to Tenerife for high-altitude training, robotic implants; Cav caught slipping Kittel 100,000 euros to "run down to the corner and get me a decent espresso."

July: What else--le Tour! Contador, Froome so busy marking each other they accidentally pedal backwards into coastal Portugal, out of contention; Valverde wins first Tour de France by "supporting" team captain Nairo Quintana by personally caring for Nairo's bicycle every night, replacing derailleur lube with Krazy Glue; Oleg Tinkov hitches Peter Sagan to Roman chariot, wins green jersey by using big spiky metal things on chariot wheels to shred the spokes of other riders. Victory is mine!

August: It's fabulous Vuelta a Espana, baby! Purito Rodriguez attacks for 31 straight days, realizes the race was actually already over during the last 10; Contador denied Tour-Vuelta double when poked in eye by randomly flailing Froome elbow; still-disappointed Orange Army fans kidnap all non-Basque riders, reconstituted "Euskaltel-Euskadi" squad wins all classifications.

September: Contract season! 16 Astana riders test positive for banned substances, Vinokourov forced to sign untainted squad of untried tricycle fans from local Kazakh nursery school; Quintana at Movistar through 2016 "so long as that greedy bastard Valverde don't stab me in the back"; Marianne Vos renews gig til 2048, wins F1 World Championship by record margin, explaining, "I thought all those race cars I passed were just some kind of fancy new fatbike."

October: World Championships time! Michal Kwiatkowski fails to defend men's road title when mistaken for Polish team towel boy, hounded away from start line; Pauline Ferrand-Prevot defends women's gold after other contenders decide to chill in their national team busses with beer and some nachos instead of riding and waiting for the last kilometer to blow it; Pippo Pozzato misses Il Lombardia due to hand injury sustained in tanning-salon imbroglio.

November: Vacation time! Pros collectively "go play video games" over at Lance Armstrong's house since they're now forbidden from consorting with Michele Ferrari; entire Astana squad disappears for 4 weeks, Brian Cookson chuckles "those scalawags!"; Froome eats single pea at dinner, doubles weight, Sky terminates next year's contract.

December: WorldTour licenses announced! Vino buys UCI prez Brian Cookson Buckingham Palace, Queen of England forced to live in nearby Motel 6; Cookson concedes Astana's been "very naughty" but rents Iglinsky brothers palatial Monaco summer homes to wait out doping bans; Thomas Voeckler snags ProTour license from Cofidis by impaling it with his prehensile lizard tongue; Alejandro Valverde proclaims himself "the greatest Spanish rider to ever get away with taking all this !@#$". Merry Christmas, suckers!

So, onwards to 2015--and don't say I didn't warn you!

It's Yer Vuelta a Espana in Preview Part Tres: the Sprinters, and Everyone Else We're Psyched About! #LaVuelta

Woot Woot! It's V-1!: oh yeah, it's finally just about time for the fabulous Vuelta, and having covered the course, the GC boys, and the climbers, it's time for the Sprinters, and Everyone Else We're Stoked About! And no, Cav, Marcel, and Andre aren't here, but a pretty bangin' field of fast men still is, so let's check 'em out:

Tom Boonen: yep, prepping for Worlds, I presume. A tough Classics season, but a perpetual class act--and power-threat. Aupa Tommeke!

Peter Sagan: no, he's not a pure sprinter--but neither are Vuelta sprints always perfectly flat, and after his crap stage-winless Tour, and with Oleg Tinkov's eye (and big fat wallet) on 'im, Sagan's hungry for redemption and podium glory. Just let Elia have a chance once in a while!

Nacer Bouhanni: yes, it's the new wave of French Riders That Don't Suck, and boy, did this guy have a smashing Giro d'Italia, taking stage after stage and giving hope to a despondent cycling nation once again. He's rested, he's bad-!@#, and he's ready!

John Degenkolb: who's Giant-Shimano's sprint hope, when Kittel's not around to dazzle the crowd with his speed (and hair-do)? Right, big John Degenkolb, a formidable competitor on his own. 5 bunch sprint wins in 2012 in the Vuelta alone--eat his dust boys, if you can get that close!

Roberto Ferrari: bored with all those guys staying upright in the last 50 meters? Find a little carnage exciting because you're a completely sadistic soulless tool? Well Roberto Ferrari's your man--just ask Mark Cavendish, who's got the good sense to be riding elsewhere. Hold your line you jerk--and let the best man, not the wankiest one, win!

And 'Nother Guys!: finally, there's a truly bitchin' assortment of roleurs, puncheurs, and guys we just plain like at this year's Vuelta, including Fabian Cancellara, Philippe Gilbert, Ryder Hesjedal, Tony Martin, and--perhaps in a bid to get a heretofore-unconvinced squadra azzurra boss to let 'im on the 2014 Worlds team--incomparable beach babe/bon vivant (and even rider) Pippo Pozzato. Come on Pippo, show us some fireworks--*something's* gotta upstage all those lurid selfies!

Well, that's your Vuelta preview--here's the official route video, and now time to get this party *started*!

It's Last Chance Mountain at the Giro--and to Enter Our Fab Week Tre Giro Contest! Plus, Tommeke! #giro

It's the Make-or-Break Zoncolan, Baby!: first, I'm calling bull!@#$ on everyone still whining and bitchin' about Nairo's win while half the peloton neutralized itself on the Stelvio: whatever the race organizers' !@#$up, and it *was* huge, and even assuming you wiped out the time Quintana gained on his downhill attack--because there's no justification whatsoever for wiping out his uphill time gains--he'd've *still* been firmly in the GC lead after his killer performance in the uphill time trial today. Damn, am I the only one starting to get a little nostalgic for freakin' Chaingate? Anyhoo, the race ain't over yet, and even wee Nairo could crack, so not only is nothing decided quite yet, the second two spots on the podium sure ain't--at least, Rigoberto and Aru aren't convinced! Which brings us to:

Still Time to Enter Our Win Free Stuff Giro d'Italia Contest Here!: Guess right (or guess wrong with everybody else), I draw yer name from the Holy Crap I Got This From Ted King Cannondale Cap o' Bitchinness, and you win a bangin' custom-embroidered cycling cap, a passel o' spiffy stickers, and a two-week Rider Insult Moratorium! Good luck to all for Week Tre--and may your dream podium come true!

You Suck Race Organizers!: okay, I get time cuts--people gotta get home for dinner 'n' all. But really, two bike probs no team car a brutal climb and you send a guy who's busted his !@# for everyone but himself for three weeks crawling home after he comes in late in the time trial? As Kenny Dehaes so eloquently put it, "Thx @giroditalia! You've treated me like an animal on Gavia and Stelvio and now after 2 mechanicals I need to go home!Grande Giro di merda" Giro, heck knows I'll excuse you for almost anything, but let him ride to Trieste!

Who Needs a Lamborghini When You Are One? !@#$ Yeah Tom Boonen!: finally, he was plagued by illness and injury during the big flashy Classics, all right, but he ain't now, as big Tom Boonen bags two straight-up sprints in the Tour of Belgium--just the kind he's recently declared himself shy of--against the stompin' likes of Andre "the Gorilla" Griepel. *So* delighted to see him back on form!--so Tommeke, you gonna share that beer keg?

Movistar Takes the High Road! Froomey Throws It Down! And, Enter Our Giro Contest! #Giro

Pink It Was Love At First Sight: well, Team Movistar sure worked fast to make peace and head off the howling for Nairo Quintana's stage (or at least descent) neutralization: before the podium babes' lipstick was wiped off Nairo's cheek, Movistar skipped the subtle glow of a single maglia rosa for a full-on total-pimp screw-you-losers, bathing our new race leader in pink helmet, eyeglasses, wheels, bib shorts, bar tape, shoes, bike, and who knows what the hell else he's hiding. Way to calm everybody down, you jackwagons! So maybe a few guys refused to shake hands with him, how bad can it be having an entire peloton out to destroy you--hey, with any luck, Hesjedal'll just burn up the uphill time trial, and they'll just turn on him instead!

Nah, Nah, I Beat You!: How little has defending Tour de France champ Chris Froome got to hide--or how much does he think he *can* hide? Enough to twit bemoaning the lack of unannounced doping controls at the TdF faves' high-altitude training playground in Tiede! Worried about how the competition's doing, are we? Anyway, at least if the narcs are buggin' you guys up there, they'll be too busy to search your grandma's houses--and as Lance Armstrong so often pointed out, you couldn't beat the tests if you tried, so why *not* invite the UCI vampires over for a nice visit if you got nothin' to hide!

Now *That's* a Trophy!: fond as I am of the little stuffed garanimal given the Giro stage winners by delectable sponsor Balocco wafers, I'm giving Best Prize o' the Week to the fine Tour of Belgium, which not only anointed we love Tom Boonen with a sorely-needed win today, but gave him a giant beer keg to celebrate with. Carbs, right, cyclists need carbs--just give tomorrow's winner some frites, and we've got a party goin' on! Here, Tommeke grabs the win from Andre Greipel--hell, let's *all* take a swig o' that to toast him with!

Predict the Giro and Enter to Win!: brave enough to call the Giro d'Italia podium? Need a bangin' stylish cycling cap to cover your tragically un-Kittel-like locks? Well enter here! to win cool stuff--because Samuel Sanchez is still in the Giro and the Euskaltel fans are still out in the freezing cold in full orange and waving Basque flags--what more could one want in life?

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh-way to Hell: It's Yer Paris-Roubaix in Preview, Honey!

Yes, it's time for the most glorious Monument of all, the riveting Hell o' the North! Why "the Hell of the North?" Well, it's north. The hell: bone-jarring dream-destroying cobblestones, the ever-chance of freak wet weather to make the pave' that much more slippery, and pain, pain, pain, PAIN, baby! And that's on a *good* race day. This year's deal:

Out: Suck! We love Sylvain Chavanel with asthmatic bronchitis. Also missing: Flanders-crunched trusty Cancellara lieutenant Stijn Devolder, replaced by the very-fine-but-not-so-tested Boy Van Poppel. You *doubly* can't afford to screw this up tactically now, Trekies! To see how Quick Step is feeling about it, let's check out their course recon: And yes, the ones who make it like three feet past the start line before bagging out in wailing agony tomorrow are *still* the bad-!@#$edest road-beasties on the planet. Bow, bow before the riders of Roubaix, o spindly unworthy wimpmeister peons!

In: Yep, it's Cancellara, Sagan, Vanmarcke again, and yep, we all know who'll probably get it, tho' if an overconfident Sagan tries to pop a wheelie on the pave for the Beliebers--I mean, Sagan fans--I bet *that'll* cause some fun for the gruppo. On their heels, if they don't end up on the ground: Boassen-Hagen-Dazs, coif-master Taylor Phinney, Degenkolb, Stybar, Terpstra, and Pippo. But dammit, I *so* want Tom Boonen to win it. And what the !@#$ is all this hype about Brad Wiggins for !@#$'s sake--is *everyone* so high on tramadol these days they're seeing this?

The Forecast: the good news: no rain! The bad news: it's a blinding retina-scratchin' dust-bowl! Wait--*who* just attacked me?

The Course: oh, sweetie, I know you know it. And if you're new now, you'll be in love with it by tomorrow. 28 cobbled sections, with the dangerous Arenberg a mere 18 sectors in and the potentially race-deciding Carrefour near the end. How you're gonna feel afterwards: yeah, well this is how Tony Martin looked after the Tour of the Basque country today, and there ain't even no rock-ridin' *there*: And if you think you're getting off easy cruising the roadside, they're plowing it up with farm machinery. In sum: allez allez, suckers--see you at the post-race podium 'n' kiss-n-cry!

It's Your 2014 Tour of Flanders Awards!

Hardman of the Race: holy !#$, are they holding Stijn Devolder's shattered carcass together with duct tape at this point? About 38 hard, *hard* crashes, the man looks like a rotting arm-dropping zombie outta the Living Dead, and still he just keeps on coming back. No, he didn't "win"--but yeah, he *won*!

Newbie o' Flanders Award: I can't believe this is Taylor Phinney's first time here. A Ronde of applause for his stellar ride with Darryl Impey!

Crash of the Race (Fear o' God Edition): half of Saxo-Tinkoff goes down all at once in a perplexing, slow-to-fix tangle. If they didn't break any bones *in* the crash, Oleg Tinkov's gonna do it for 'em!

Crash of the Race (Aw, Suck Edition): The great-hearted MTN-Qhubeka, an African squad's first broken collarbone (anyway, sure looked it) in their first ever Flanders. Get well soon kid!

Panic at the Roadside Award: OH MY GOD NIKI TERPSTRA'S DOWN! THIS IS A CATASTROPHE FOR OMEGA PHARMA QUICKSTEP! WHAT COULD POSSIBLY HAVE--oh, he's just peeing. Um, look, over there--cows grazing!

What the !@#$ Is He Doing There? Prize: really. Wiggins?

Cha-Ching! (In Reverse) Award: Peter Sagan, you rakish, *very* youngster, *you* may not be feeling the Classics pressure--but trust me, come 4-million-euro contract time, your price, and your commission-hungry agent, will be. You better start thinking about next weekend, pal!

The Player's Club Prize: Bjorn "I Only Tested Poz for Testosterone Because I Was Just This Very Minute Doing My Girlfriend" Leukemans' failed attack at 23k. Yep, this obnoxious joke is just too easy, even for me!

Insult-to-Injury Award: oh, there was a women's Ronde Van Vlaanderen all right--not that we'd know it from the guttural footnote to the breathless high-pitched coverage of the menfolk's. And Ellen Van Dijk soloed to win it. BROADCAST WOMEN'S CYCLING DAMMIT--LIKE THE SAME FREAKIN' CENTURY IT HAPPENS!

The Decline and Fall of the American Empire Prize: why the !@#$ can't we get contemporaneous non-!@#$ coverage in the US without blacked-out screens pop-up porno 2-pixel visuals and a stream that jerks like a--well, let's just leave that there? *This*, this is why this country is going to hell in a handbasket, I say!

Now *Them's* Fightin' Words Award: the BEIN Sports commentator who cheerily sent us "back to Magnus Baxter." TWICE. Right, along with "Bernard Hiny" and "Eddy Mertz", you insufferable twit!

Layoff Tommeke You Bastards!: okay, not a prize exactly, but nonetheless, a mandate. You just wait--he'll be 100% at Paris-Roubaix!

And Finally, Debbie Downer of the Race: yeah, I mean Spartacus winning it. I know, I know, he's amazing--but I didn't want the predictable to happen. And really, while that was a bit of a scare there at 2.6k to go, it was over at 13k when Cancellara took off. And the last k's damn-near track-standing--annoying!

Well, them's mine--it was a predictably twitchy start, it was unpredictably sunny, and sincere best wishes to all who were hurt. Now, it's on to the Vuelta a Pais Vasco, and next week's Hell o' the North!

You Down With O.P.P. (Other People's Pave')?: It's Yer Flanders in Preview, Baby!

Oh yeah, we're down to serious business, baby, because there's both the men's and women's Ronde van Vlaanderen are this weekend, and there's already drama by the buckets! The score:

The Gossip: Belgian cops totally coincidentally kick Peter Sagan off the Kwaremont while he's reconning the course today, link here. Nothing personal! Next up: authorities bust into every non-Belgian team and rider's hotel rooms at 3 a.m. on Sunday with battering rams, billy clubs, bullhorns, stun guns, cattle prods, smoke grenades, and those spazzy little hand-buzzers you buy at the joke shop. Oops, wrong room--nighty-night, sorry to disturb you!

The Cobbles: fans love 'em, riders fear 'em, and Tom Boonen picks 'em out from between his teeth after a leisurely lunch. You know it: Molenberg, Kwaremont, Paterberg. Why the !@#$ won't a profile pic load? A close-up view of the pain on the Kwaremont: And beyond-bangin' preview of the women's race on Velofocus. Yep, it's gonna be just as vicious out there!

The Forecast: lookin' like rain. Oh, man, I can almost *hear* the sound of hitting the stones...

The Contenders: Nairo Quintana. Alberto Contador. Chris Froome. Just kidding! Tho' Alejandro Valverde's already reconned some cobbles ahead of his Tour de France bid. Tom Boonen vs. Fabian Cancellara, both downplaying their chances but ready to rumble. Peter Sagan, under heavy sponsor pressure to giddyap with a major Monument this season. Critic's darling Sep Vanmarcke. One thing's for sure: if you give Cancellara a single bike length ahead of the pack, he's gone for good, and all you're fighting for is a podium place. Eyes open, Tommeke! For the women: geez, can we get a definitive start list? Defending champ is Marianne Vos. Elisa Longo Borghini. Podiums Emma Johansson and Ellen Van Dijk. Last year's women's roundup:

The Dark Horses: who *doesn't* love ponies? We love Sylvain Chavanel. Pippo Pozzato. Luca Paolini. Niki Terpstra and Stijn Devolder. And a host of other Belgian badasses waiting to grit it out and take advantage if the favorites over-mark. Oh, like Pippo wouldn't look just *adorbs* with that trophy!

The Absentees: Nick Nuyens, gobsmacked by flu. Ian Stannard, stuffed into a back brace. There'll be a lot more before Sunday's over though, honey!

The Fans: beer, beer, and beer. And if you can see through the gorgeous Flandrian flags smothering the sidelines, you might even see some bikes go by. Wait, *who* just ran into me when I stumbled into the course?

Well, time to place yer bets--and for you undecideds, look who got it last year!

Cobbles! Mountains! The Giro d'Italia Sings! and, Xtreme Warming Methods: Yer Cycling Roundup

It's the Pave', Beeyotches!: yep, it's time for the E3 Harelbeke, with 3x winner Fabian Cancellara, 5x champ Tom Boonen, just coming back from an awful personal tragedy, and Peter Sagan, hungry for a win after a disappointing few weeks, all lookin' to put the fear into the rest of the Classics contenders ahead of Flanders. Also in: Dwars der Vlaanderen bad!@# Niki Terpstra, Sep Vanmarcke, John Degenkolb, and come to think of it, pretty much everyone in Belgium whether they're actually pro cyclists or not. The course: cobbles, baby! 17 climbs, including the Taaienberg, Kapelberg, the fateful Oude Kwaremont, and the Boigneberg, which was even cooler when I thought it was called the "Boingenberg." Yes, we love you Fabian--but c'mon, like you all aren't rooting for Tommeke! Here, Fab's last-year's win:

The Tour Shapes Up at the Volta!: and, it was survival-of-the-fittest carnage again today at the freezing queen stage of the Volta a Catalunya, with Teejay van Garderen grabbing the stage after a pounding attack, Purito Rodriguez in the GC lead, and Alberto Contador dragging yet another few precious seconds--though I bet he wishes it were more, for psychological warfare purposes--out of Chris Froome. Also making it in: Nairo Quintana, coolly responding to a question about the performance of the other Colombians by suggesting the press'd have to ask 'em how they did when they actually get here. Ouch, Nairo!

Warming Tips of the Pros: Which talk of cold weather brings us to a distinctly gnarly revelation: forget "gloves," Saxo domestique Chris Jull-Jensen's description of how he had to pee on his own hands to keep warm at Milano-Sanremo. Geez, I know they're called "pack fodder," but for !@#$'s sake, DSes--take that nice hot cup of non-urine *coffee* you're suckin' on in the cozy comfort of the team car, blow on it so it won't scald, and let yer boys pour *that* on their hands instead! And while we're on the disgusting subject, can we please call a moratorium on the Tinkoff pix of Alberto Contador getting a balancing hand from a teammate while he wees on the go? I mean, I admire the teamwork and all, but it's sorta like holding your friend's long hair back out of the way while she's hurling from drinking too much in college--expected good sportsmanship, but not a visual you want to record for posterity!

Song Sung Pink: sure, the race don't actually start 'til May, but the official theme song and hilarious video to the glorious 2014 Giro d'Italia is already out, so honey, come get your Giro on--what, you never heard Italian rap before? Well, enjoy!

Frozen Eyeballs! Chain-Ring Chest-Rippage! Yep, It's Classics Season All Right

Omloop-de-loop: first, a big bucket o' well-earned beer to Brit Ian Stannard (tho' it rather broke my heart that Greg Van Avermaet didn't win) for his (and Britain's!) first Omloop Het Volk, and congratulations to the rest of the survivors, including Thor Hushovd, who first suckered some of us (ahem) with sordid rumors of a broken arm (though I was thinkin' collarbone when I first saw him) then fortunately turned to have been not dented quite enough to threaten the rest of his Classics, Tom Boonen, who doffed his rain-gear just in time to get uncharacteristically bamfoozled by downpour 'n' cold, and some poor bastid who apparently suffered a "frozen eyeball." Ow, !@#$! For the women: Giant's Amy Pieters, beating out Lizzie Armistead and previous repeat winner Emma Johannson, and a whole lot less blood 'n' gore from the lot of 'em. Well, count your blessings most of you--you don't have to fear the race for a whole 'nother year!

To Every Thing, Kuurne, Kuurne, Kuurne: and, a narrow and thrilling triumph of experience over exuberant youth over at Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne, with a redemptive if fruitless ride for yesterday's-crash-out Luca Paolini, and a gnarly if ultimately not crushing chomp to the chest with a chain-ring and some hospital-room stitches for a still-perfectly-coiffed Taylor Phinney, as big Tom Boonen bagged a record third Kuurne with a perfectly-timed bike throw and a Miley Cyrus tongue-thrust over Belkin whippersnapper Moreno Hofland, who Tommeke sure better assume is gonna plan for that same trick next year, even if Boonen *is* still gonna kick his !@# again anyway. Plus, you get booze and a donkey for winning it! Woo-hoo Tom--and no offense to his great Classics rival Fabian Cancellara, but eat it, buddy, this is only the beginning this season!

Breakin' the Law/Breakin' the Law: finally, speaking of cobbles, apparently UCI is intent on enforcing Rule No. Screw You You Weaselly Wussies, which bars riders from--as they often do--hopping off the cobbles or any other frightening surface to a softer, steadier, 'n' generally less bone-snappin' adjacent path. Well, there goes half the field at Flanders--boys, buttress your collarbones, you ain't getting off that easy this year!

Omloop! Kuurne! The Belgian Races Begin! 'N' What to Look For

Yeah, break out the beer 'n' frites, babes, 'cause now that the peloton's broken in its legs a bit, it's time for the start of the bad-!@# Belgian cobbled Classics season, where the hard men face off, the GC contenders cower like whimpering wussbags, and the rest o' the pack just tries to escape the race intact. Woo-hoo! So what's up this weekend? This:

Omloop Het Nieuwsblad: Men's: Luca Paolini's defending it, Thor Hushovd needs it, Tom Boonen wants it, and the Muur-Kapelmuur's gonna make 'em all pay for it. The course 'n' other news flashes:here. And this, a truly bangin' recap of 2013:
Women's: a 127k o' bone-rattling sufferfest. 2013 was Tiffany Cromwell, but 2012 champ Loes Gunnewijk is there too--on the same team with repeat winner Emma Johannson!--and word is Wiggle-Honda is out for blood and podium. Just get the hell outta their way and you'll all be juuuuuuuust fine! Last year's:

Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne: the twitchy legs! the likelihood of carnage! the bitchin' name! oh right, and did we mention last year was cancelled due to freakin' snow? Yep, from Edvald Boassen-Haagen-Dazs to Nick Nuyens Zdenek Stybar Sep Vanmarcke and, damn, pretty much anyone on Lotto-Belisol, it's a lively--and hopefully not frostbitten--race this go-round, with a likely fast bunch finish and a whole lotta recriminations from those caught out afterwards. The weather forecast: better'n last year! Still, stay upright, hope for no mechanicals, and for heck's sake, directeur sportifs, if it turns nippy out there, put some nice hot cocoa in these boys' water bottles so they don't just freeze to death!