Biting Down
Biting Down by allo-wallo September 14, 2013
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Down Hill Mountain Biking
The best sport Ever. Much better that other pussier types of MTBing. Chucking yourself off drops bigger than you can imagine.
Oh, did i mention, they get ALL the girls.
Oh, did i mention, they get ALL the girls.
Down Hill Mountain Biking by DH R!D3R! June 6, 2011
Related Words
downhill mountain biking
these are generally awesome people who ride down a rooty, rocky and usually steep hill with a bike and armour. they are known to outsiders as 'fearless bastards' and usually get 'loose as a goose'
girls who participate in this sport are rare to find, but on the chance that you do find one you will soon learn that they are fucking fantastic and much more of a 'fearless bastard' compared to your everyday girl and guy. girls who ride bikes are amazing ;)
girls who participate in this sport are rare to find, but on the chance that you do find one you will soon learn that they are fucking fantastic and much more of a 'fearless bastard' compared to your everyday girl and guy. girls who ride bikes are amazing ;)
Downhiller 1: "shit dude, we ride downhill mountain biking, we're fucking awesome"
Downhiller 2: "fuck yeah, lets shred up some dirt!"
Downhiller Girl: "YEAH!"
Downhiller 2: "fuck yeah, lets shred up some dirt!"
Downhiller Girl: "YEAH!"
downhill mountain biking by dhmtbsoph June 15, 2011
fogey
Fogey/fogy /fougi/ sl. (early 18C+, orig. Scot) old-fashioned, stuck-in-the mud.
Person with old fashioned ideas which he is unwilling to change: Come to the disco and stop being such an old fogey!
Person with old fashioned ideas which he is unwilling to change: Come to the disco and stop being such an old fogey!
You think me an old fogeyand an old tory, his thoughtful voice said. I saw three generations since O’Connel’s time. I remember the famine. Do you know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the union twenty years before O’Connel did or before the prelates of your communion denounced him as a demagogue? You fenians forget some things. (James Joyce, Ulysses. Penguin Books,1992. p. 38)