Somehow, throughout the course of my longer-than-I-care-to-think-about life, no one had ever struck upon the magnificently clever artifice of replacing the "dom" part of a word with "Thom." That was until this past Saturday when I went for another ride at Otis Air Force Base with a posse of fit racer types who nearly rode me to death like I was a pony at a birthday party for clinically obese octuplets. I was completely shelled and Results Rooter, taking pity on me, decided to take us down a technical trail so I wouldn't get so horribly dropped. He said "We're gonna do that techy trail again so Thom can dominate it." And, come to think of it, I guess it was me who said "Nah dude, I'm gonna Thominate it." Wow, I thought, no one's ever gone there...what are the possibilities? All we could come up with in the following minutes were "Thominatrix" and "Thom Deluise." But the second one doesn't really count. I can't even think of any now...oh wait: athomination. Different switcheroo, same idea. Come on, whaddayagot? Let's hear it.
I hitched a ride down to Otis with Mo Bruno Roy. One thing that Mo and I have in common is our love of Dunkin Donuts, particularly Big And Toasty sandwiches (see photo at top of post). Alright, that's made up, Mo hates Dunkin Donuts. Well, maybe not hates it so much as she is disgusted by it. What we do have in common is our appreciation for the various and nuanced Massachusetts accents. We can both easily lapse into the accents of respective towns of origin. I had just seen The Fighter, so I spent a lot of time talking up Christian Bale's nailing of the Lowell accent. Not only the nailing of the accent, but of the body language and facial expression of a skinny-ass, townie tweaker. The guy is a total dick of a human being, but man can he act. He made Wahlberg sound like he was the one faking it.
Out on the trails we ran into Gerry Finnegan and his buddy John. John was all geared up with a full face helmet and a long travel bike. I think it was Kevin Sweeney who asked me why those guys were so geared up (Otis ain't all that technically demanding). "Because there's a secret stash of super-kindy gnar you don't know about brah" I told him.
Bob Morgan had some killer socks.
Colin and Greg Whitney enter the octagon. Two men enter, one man...falls off the side and faceplants into a pile of pine needles.
Rooter shows us which line not to take.
And, believe it or not, this was the line to take.
Squirtgun Show performing some kind of weird bike ballet. Keith (right) rethinking the wisdom of bringing his girlfriend on a ride where the conversation topics ranged from bodily functions to poop. What's that? Since when is poop a bodily function? Keep your science out of my classroom!
Rocked the VOmax Celtics kit. The jersey is club cut, good for accommodating my still off-season-sized physique.
After the ride I could barely walk, but I had promised, scratch that: made a blood oath, that I would be at the Motherboar show at P.A.'s Lounge Saturday night. It had been on my calendar since the Superbowl (whenever that was). There was no way I was blowing it off.
I don't see nearly enough rock. Good thing Motherboar packs an above average amount of rock into their set. They are like the grain alcohol of bands — 95% rock by volume. Just check out the video for "Croctosquatch" below. Pat Benatar may have pioneered the narrative music video with "Love Is A Battlefield" but Motherboar perfected the art form with their video about a man hunting for the part crocodile, part octopus, part sasquatch creature that killed his brother.
This video will make you think. What it will make you think is "Wow, I didn't know they could show boobies on Youtube."
I bet when you read the title of this post you thought I was going to talk about how I utterly Thominated the trails of Otis AFB and the affable Samoan-American actor Duane "The Rock" Johnson in hand to hand combat (again). You were wrong (again). I was speaking of utterly Thominating the rock as in the rock n' roll.