Sunday, March 19, 2006

I Henceforth Redirect You

I know I will lose an approximate fifty to seventy-five percent of my 'readership' in doing this.
However:
I henceforth redirect you to my New Blog.

It's not totally finished yet. It might take a long time to load, and you might not be able to see
The Rad-Ass Fonts. Sally forth and let me know.

Dance, magic dance.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Mexicans no know how drive.

My favorite essay on the sick ethos of Crash winning can be found here.
I burnt my chicken broth while reading the numerous Op-Eds on the story. BURNT my chicken broth, yes.

Today is day five off of work, but it is a sick day and my left eustachian tube is utterly compacted with viral swill, still pressing on my tympanic membrane and the little bones contained therein.

I went to Mammoth this weekend. It was a gong show (on my end). I had all this pent-up excitement to get out of LA and away from work, was told I *really deserved a vacation* and so believed it. Closer to the truth was that I *needed* a vacation.
It has been a few weeks at work where we all felt like King Theoden, looking over the remnants of battle at Helm's Deep: So much death.
So I finagled my way into a group of people heading up to the mountains and upon waking we found high winds, dumping powder and my a throat completely numbed by the toxins of some kind of infection. But did I try to ski nevertheless? Yes I did. The conditions were essentially complete whiteout with intermittent spots of simple high wind. Having not been able to find my contacts, I had to wear my glasses under goggles. These fogged immediately. Nothing could remedy the situation. I became immediately frustrated and Jordan Innes the 7th had to wait for my sorry ass at the bottom of every run, or halfway though. It was awful. We went back to the condo where I found myself febrile, shivering and the boys returned with ginger ale for me. Next day was sunny, I was still sick, but I wanted to have a Do-over of the previous day. And indeed it was a better day. I felt more comfortable on my skis and could wear my prescription sunglasses while enjoying clear visibility, but I still felt like my head was wholly detached from my body and wrapped in a layer of pink insulation foam.
By lunchtime, I was ready to join the rest of the group and not be a complete feeb and maybe even run some blacks.
Alas it was not to be. Mysteriously, no one showed up to the said meeting place for lunch. I felt jilted and dumped and skied the rest of the day alone, in the singles line for lifts. I was trying to tell myself that I shouldnt be mad and shouldnt feel dumped, but guys, I sure did. I tried to tell myself that skiing alone is really not so different from skiing with others. But, well, that's gullcrap. (not an eyelash was batted among them regarding me in such situation).
Nevertheless, I attempted some black runs, my first in many years. i did not snowplow. I did not make out with the mountain face first. I liked my parabolic skis. I was however in excrutiating thigh-pain, thought my quads and lats were going to break my femurs what with all the intensity of my uptight skiing posture in an effort not to fall.
The drive there and back...those bits were enjoyable. The rest of the time I have to say I felt like a chump.

However, there will be do-overs. I intend to sample the local runs this month, and to do so with GREAT LIGHTHEARTED ENJOYMENT. This will be achieved via clarity of sinuses, the company of others and good visibility.

Get on the love train. Join hands.
People of the world now, join me.