Paul The Man


First a quick shout out to all three of our dedicated readers, I would like extend a big Sorry to you from the bottom of my Colon.
I can only imagine how hard it must have been going almost 2 weeks without reading are poetry like posts. nuff said.


With the summer almost over and the course set it was time for the sixth and final Beer League world championships. The course was to be the infamous gay-line *cough* excuse me I mean A-line and just to spice up the mix it would be a chainless race. Very fitting considering most whistler locals are so poor they can only afford SRAM's new LO-CALS derailur made out of paper clips and matchsticks.

Even more exciting was the free pitchers that GLC was offering for best costume giving all the racers just another excuse to show off there closet flamer and race wearing nothing but your aunties Lingerie.
Nice shorts


Even with chainless bikes and dresses in tout one would be mistaken to think that this was a race for fun, thats just what your parents would want to tell you until you grow old and realize that your folks are nothing but spinesless failures. Series points were on the line and the competiton was stiff. Going into the race JS was leading the series with Adam Bilinghhurts just points behind. Would Adam once again take the title or would JS crush Adams's dreams, forever labeling him as "just" the king of B-line.

Race day for me came and went like Carlos's first sexual experience, fast, akward and overall a total let down. My choice in plans for the night prior to the race, going to the full moon party , proved a bad idea when come race time I was still trying to massage other waiting racers. But to talk about myself would be selfish considering I was not only one of the slower racers that day but also one of the worst dressed.

Local pop sensation and lover of all woodland creatures, Paul stephens, convinced his long time life partner to let him dress up in a womans dress, contrary to her long standing hatred towards trannies. Things were all fun and games until mid race run Paul realized that he forgot to take young new born Paulo out of the baby carrier. Shockingly no one cared that Paul almost murdered his child and he was awarded best comstume and even given more free beer to aid him in other smart child care decisions.
FACT: All these people are partially retarded

Other costume highlights inhcluded Willy Wonka, Naked GUY #1-9 , Si the Muff diving Legend, Tom and his canadian tuxedo, and me dressed up as my true self (others would come to call it a cheerleaders costume).

The two sexiest people I know


Martin would have actually won the race had it not been for a mid race run shock malfunction, apparently he actually snapped his Titanium shock spring (see above)

In the end Adam Billinghurt once again reminded everyone that he is the berminator and took the win and for the second year in a row took the Beer League Wolrd Championship title earning him a spot on the Kokanee Cup.

And just like that the Beer League is over. Its already starting to get cold and the Orange tukes are starting to appear around the village. But for now the riding is still good, the woman still flowing like wine, and memories being made...........apart from me lying.

Words by: Max Steele

Photos by : His holiness Mahesh Todd Yogi Helinga

After a small glitch in the matrix due to a physical move of the server (probably from mikes bedroom into the spare room...) we are back up and running and normal service has been resumed.

We may even do some updates and everything - but dont quote me on that.

Warwick Patterson, Chad Hendren, Adam and I spent a day filming a little commercial for dincus clothing and the whistlerdiaries.com website....this is our creation

http://youtube.com/watch?v=vEhkdvXJL1s


Bigups to Warwick this is amazing

The following article is written in a bar by 3 people drinking a drink that we made the previous night then fermented in the sun while we rode trails that would make the whistler kids foam at the mouth with their sheer un-man-madeedness(or something).

Sadly the lifts here close early, so theres no laying in bed till 1 then riding for a good 7 hours. In Les gets riding with hangovers, the shakes and still wondering where you slept the night before is almost compulsory.



Unfortunatly no one in this bar looks like steve peat, and no one can ride
like him either. its a problem with alcohol you see. i woke up on a park bench this morning covered in my own steve peat replica gear and i still rode like a punter all day.

Today was a good day. I actually went riding on some half arsed made trails that would make my boy Big L pale at just the thought of riding them. Sam (Seriosuly Angry Man) took us down a load of trails that were clearly above my skill level, thank god for the 20 units of french booze that spurned my impromptu skill boost.

Sadly I wasn't exactly on the money either, I've still not recovered after Dave span my wheel earlier in the week. Still out here theres no one to hear you huck and the only person who could see my comedy of errors where the marmots and the odd glimpse that jamie got of me at the start of every run.



I personally like the French health and safety laws. Or lack thereof. Your average gnarcore seattle rider would piss in his sombrio nappy at the first sight of a French road gap. The sign 'Ferme pour traveux' means a game of dodge the digger is about to commence and nobody is going to win.



You "go big or go home" canadians don’t know what you're missing. You think Squamton is rolling in the hood, i think you're a white boy in the mall. It bin a good three weeks since i saw a wigga bust a move, but only a mere two hours since i saw an ugly french girl. Whislter may have the dodgy ridding, France has the dodgy women. The riding is a bodge job to say the least. The protein fiend and my filthy mexican womanising machine would be distinctly out of their element.

Joyfully poutine is about as hard to find as a cove brake mount out here so while we’re not fully of fatty rottenness we are forced to resort to local hire bikes. A rental bike is much like a fat girl, fun to slap around but not something you want your mates to catch you riding doggy style in chris tuckers hummer with choclates in your pants.
So while Seriously angry man is busy breaking bikes, im busy playing gothorp xbox 360. It‘s hard learning to press the right buttons to get the sickest combos. So far we have had level 3 of hating. When we hit close to 10 we know we are cooking. Ill shit on his chest later, that might do the trick.



Daves sun burn has obviously blackened his soul a little further. However on the outside he’ll always be as white as his suncream. Enough hating though I rode a trail today that gave me a boner so big I had trouble steering for most of my run.

And finally in the words of steve “you can end me in anyway you want” So I shall, see ya!
A sober update might come into fruition tomorrow. If you’re lucky. Cunt punters.