I ski, therefore I blog

Admit it, you are a  repeat reader. In fact, you need me like I need you, but you need me more. Whether it be because of my whimsical lyricism (see: Haiku last blog), irreverent storytelling, or self deprecating humor, I am happy to say, the kid is back. Football season may be over, and with the ides of March of looming, I promise to continue infiltrating your blogosphere with everything that brought you here in the first place. And with that, we go to Vermont.

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        “Ok away we go, only thing we have on is the radio” Vermont, ten times better than skiing in New York, 50 times worse than skiing in Colorado or Utah. Still, Vermont I love your bed time and your screwy ways. I overheard a bartender claim that she needed 5 more people to justify staying open past ten, and for a very green state, they fry anything and everything. You also love Rhianna…so do I. I know, I don’t know what we see in her either, yet shes do damn catchy. Sorry, just having an A B conversation with the state of Vermont, so please C your way out of it. And that forehead, its like its own country. Ok, were done now. It’s not NYC, but in small doses, I love it up there.

        I consider myself a very capable skier, in fact, as far as amateur skiers, I deem myself to be in the lower tier of the upper echelon. Now that I have told you how great a skier I am, let me tell you this. I ended 2010 and started 2011 with the assistance of ski patrol. Without elaborating in great and embarrassing detail why an adept skier would need snowmobile and sleigh assistance in his last 2 runs, let’s just say this, it wasn’t a wardrobe malfunction. After actually being able to get up and down a mountain without incident I know I am back and both ripping and shredding. Tree Skiing here I come, XL elements this way, lets go! The slow triple instead of the quad because it has no line but you will regret it as soon as you get on, I’m in. It was at Mt. Snow that I really fell in love. Of course none of these happened without my morning shot of Mt. Dew. I'm so extreme.

        With the Crocadile Lounge (325 E. 14th St), now I’ll be the first to admit that I have never been there, but that will not stop me from giving it a ringing endorse to this place. Not only is the beer cheap, but they give you free pizza. Let that sink in for a minute…free pizza…cheap beer…possible HD tvs. Yes, It’s a dream. The only problem, its all the way back in itty bitty New York, and I’m on a chair lift (just go with it) way out in big bad Vermont. Crap. All I have is this picture (see below…looks glorious) and a Nelly montage in my head….misappropriation of lyrics coming…trying to resist…too late.

I was thinking about her
Thinking bout me
Thinkin bout us (us)
What we gunna be?
Open my eyes, (Yeah)
it was only just a dream...

So I travel back (uh)
down that road (road)
Will she come back? (Uh)
No one knows
I realize (Yeah)
It was only just a dream.

Yeah, 5 straight days of that, cruising down the mountain, consumed with Nelly and the Crocadilly.  Just you wait, I’m going to get a season pass to that Lounge, raise two cats and live off the susistance of the pizza man. Yup, just a dream Nelly, just a dream (sigh).

                                                                                                             





Does not erode awesomeness:







Erodes: Awesomeness





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Someday I truly believe that I will be a good parent, no awesome parent, but sadly that day will not be today. I can’t manage my fantasy team properly let alone 2 cats that currently are as close as I can consider to my children. I have trouble figuring out how to make cereal, let alone working 5 days a week, slaving over an uber popular (and well respected?) blog, not to mention balancing the side adventures that consume me every few hours or so. It’s exhausting. So naturally, everyone is due for a slip up every once in a while. Now with that said, I make cereal properly seven out of ten times, perfect attendance in 09, at least 2 blogs a month, and single handedly made evil Barak (Mubarak) resign, kept the new Gyro place in business, and saved a child from a bad bruise on the chair lift. I am a man of the people. As a man of the people though, it is important that I associate with the common man every Friday and Saturday evening. If not for me, what would they have? Oh right, alcohol. Regardless, I returned to the bat cave in what could be considered very late in the evening or early in the morning with a few friends to discuss “politics” and after a rather intense session, they left…with the cat. Now this isn’t surprising to find either of my two cats in the hallway in which I have coined “Prison Yard Time” as they are allowed thirty minutes a day of yard time to get some exercise. Never though, have had an actual escape, but tonight was different. Young Scout defied the rules and fled all the way to the hallway before he was stopped. How she managed to bypass the warden (me) surpass security (my friends) and ride the elevator, again where were you security, and make it to the final hurdle before freedom shocks even me. Although she was finally caught by security and returned, I saw this in the paper the next morning, I believe the author may have exaggerated a bit. You can never trust a writer.

“In 2011, Andrea “SCOUT” Dufresne escaped from #131 prison. All they found of her was a muddy set of prison clothes, a bar of catnip, and a piece of string, damn near worn down to the nothing. I remember thinking it would take a man six hundred years to tunnel through the wall with it. Old Scout did it in less than three. That's all it takes really, pressure, and time. That, and a big goddamn door. Like I said, in an apartment a cat will do most anything to keep her mind occupied. Turns out Scout's favorite hobby was standing near the door out into the exercise yard. I guess after Boo moved in, Scout decided she'd been here just about long enough. Scout did like what she was told, slept on peoples heads. The other guard simply didn't notice. Neither did I... I mean, seriously, how often do you really look at a cats paws? Scout walked to freedom through twenty yards of carpet. Twenty yards... that's the length of of one fifth of a football field, just shy of a half mile.” (Source: NY POST)

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And now some Deep thoughts with Facebook status king Robbie Basile

·         Shutter island Spoiler, It tries way to hard to be something its not and that is a creative movie with a twist, It is quite slow moving and a tad uneventful with a very anti-climactic ending.

·         another night, another night when plans fell through, another night of being stood up, another night when things constantly go wrong, another night of eating pasta alone.

·         why is it that the cops in cop action movies all suck at shooting except for the main char, he's like a fkn supercop. I mean seriously ur telling me all of these guys are able to be police officers but none of them can shoot a gun.

·         I hate creep mode drivers, you know those people that pull up next to you, staring at your car... and then when they get even to you, you can sense them glaring at you, then when you look at them, they whip their head so quickly into a different direction it seems for a second that they broke something.

·         putting this to a vote...is it normal that I actually get like happy when I am awarded with my free cup of green mountain coffee? (7th cup is free) and I don't mean like oh that's cool happy, I mean the happiness that forms is like groundbreaking.

·         be happy with what you have.

·         so...this is truth, I have always thought I would die at the age of 26, being that I haven't, I realize that I will be blessed...lol...blessed to live till I am 84, I need to figure out the next 58yrs.

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Random Tangent section of the blog:

-          Remember reading rainbow, it never got me to read, but oh man did I love Lavar Burton and that song.  Warning: Will be stuck in your head all day

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6j8EiWIVZs

-          Remember the term rice burner? I saw one last week, a real old school one, straight outta 2000 yo.

-          Quad steak is as good as advertised. Four times the steak!!!!

-          Enjoy, first.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B8gQcVo2xfM&feature=player_embedded

Artistic Photo of the blog: Did not stay here but made for a great pic of Mt. Snow.

                                                                (West Dover, VT, 2/25/11)

Aloha means goodbye

-          Foxx

A Supersized Superblog

The Superbowl is here! (half hearted Yay) the Jets aren’t in it, (single tear going down my cheek), time to make some stupid prop bets (screams of glee). It’s been a tough few weeks, but I’m over it finally. We still beat the Pats, we still went to the final four for the second straight year, and because of it I have began growing my first ever beard. It’s a mixture of red, brown, and black pubic like hair that ascends in various positions on my face; making its main colonies across my jaw line and planting its flag across the double chin region. What was once a democracy has now become a dictatorship of facial hair, I can hear Gollum whispering in my ear “Don’t shave the precious”. Check it off the bucket list, this one has staying power. I am going to look so cool when I am skiing.

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This part of the blog was written during a riveting class that I am currently taking:

Is the guy behind me sleeping? He must be, only a bear could possibly make a noise like that. Ok, I’m gonna turn around, No! No freaking way! He is awake! And subsequently now staring at me. Which makes sense considering that my face is a mix of shock, surprise, awe and even a bit of jealousy; do I say something? Do I move my seat? Do I ask him to be my new ring tone? It sounds like he has already begun his winter hibernation. I keep turning around, expecting to see him out cold sleeping in a pool of his own drool, yet he is more focused than I am. It sounds like he drank 6 beers, took a Tylenol pm and chased it with two shots of Nyquil, dude aint getting up until Spring… or he is just taking incredibly fastidious notes. In fact, his paper is loaded with notes about Leadership Recreation, and mine is full of notes of the different sounds he is making. He is actually drowning out the teacher. Maybe he is one of those open eye sleepers? Is it possible to have sleep apnea when you are awake? Wait he just snorted! That tells me nothing! Ok, and he just breathed in, now out; What has my life come to that I am not only blogging, but am completely fascinated, no hypnotized, by a strangers breathing. You know when you watch stupid movies or TV shows and they phone in someone (usually as cheap comic relief) sleeping by making their snores ten times the decibel level of any normal human being, well that’s fat Malik Yoba behind me.

I’m so mesmerized by him that I’m feel the need to write a haiku.

Snort, snore and sniffle,
Your breathing defies logic;
How are you awake?

And if your reading this:

Not making fun
amazed at your superpower,
how do you do it?
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Ever notice that standard school (regardless of level) clocks are all exactly the same, but yet they have one subtle difference: the second hand. It’s always red, balancing the black hour and minute hands and the courier font numbers that surround its grey outside, but the one difference is the way that second hand moves. Either it will slowly slide around its axis without stopping or it will stop after every second before moving onto the next line. For what it’s worth, time goes much faster when it is constantly moving, and yes I know there is no difference, but really there is. In fact, when you get the clock that has the second hand that pauses I can swear that it moves backwards every once in a while. I am also positive that the more bored you get the longer it sticks on each line. This isn’t a theory; it’s the downright inconvenient truth. Al Gore and I both have one thing in common. We open people’s eyes to complete nonsense. Just wait, your time will come, and you will be begging that you had a standard clock where the second hand never stops.

Also blogged when I was completely enthralled during class.

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So I have a new jacket, and I decided that I am going to give the bum on 86st street subway station my old jacket. Why? Well first off, because he is a bum who is wearing just a t-shirt in the midst of the worst winter in recent NYC history, but really I like the personal attention that you receive that Goodwill just doesn’t offer. And who knows, maybe I will get a new friend out of it, or dare I say it, new roommate? I can see it now, Me, Jacket bum, and my two cats living it up UES style. In my vision it is assumed that Laura has not only moved out, but also broken up with me, or if we really want to play soothsayer, Laura falls in love with the bum, shaves him like Travolta in Michael and does the reverse pretty woman. Ill accept either vision.

Before I give him the jacket though, I have thought of a number of different ways that would be appropriate, and if you know me, then you know that I am not just going to hand him my favorite winter jacket of all time and just walk away. So I compiled a list of possible ways to giving it to him. You the reader will decide what I do.

Ways to coat a bum:
• Give him the coat bc I am such a selfless person and want to see happiness in other (hopefully wont happening)
• Offer him the jacket in exchange for a 2 minutes video where he pimps my blog
• Fill my coat with all sorts of items (chicken, hat, pudding, socks, a gameboy, a charger to a phone I no longer have, Chuck Klosterman’s latest book, beer, etc) and continue handing it to him until I have nothing left. At which point I will take off my coat, then my shirt, and then just walk away.
• Put the jacket on a string, and have him follow it all the way to First Avenue as if he was chasing a dollar. Then hope he stays there.
• Offer him a Klondike Bar or the Coat. If he picks the wrong one he doesn’t get either.
• Tell him that in order to get a free coat he has to drink a 6 pack of 4Loko. Then let the theatrics begin
• Scavenger hunt. If he completes all the tasks he wins the coat.
• Drop the coat off at Goodwill (Def. not happening)


Jake, is getting a new coat whether he likes it or not, and it will change his life…and maybe mine too; Jacket Jake, my new best friend.

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Random Tangent of the blog:

-Add ride a blimp to my bucket list, and cross of star in a movie off.

-I make the best buffalo chicken dip in New York State. No, I will not give out my recipe, but residents of Tin Lizzie Sunday night will enjoy it in all its wondrous and delicious bowl inducing delight.


- Mubarak, Egyptian dictator sounds like evil Barak Obama. As in "Barak sends aid to combat Mubarak's reign of terror" Tell me you don't see an evil Obama with his pinky finger to his mouth cackling wildy.
-Remember the Titans gets better every time I watch it. I am so glad I went with it as my five minute movie over Encino Man. Attitude reflects leadership Captain. I am putting the over/under at 5.5 girls crying when Gary gets paralyzed and 2.5 boys.

-Just so we are clear, I called Jersey Shore going to Italy after season one, I told everyone that it was inevitable, and I believe I even posted it on Facebook. I knew the show was going this direction before you did, I win MTV.

-A report that I received recently that may or may not have been about a book quoting a piece of the essay as “Then I stroked her, stroked her long and good, until I could feel the purr inside me.” No idea that it had anything sexually related at all whatsoever in it either. Yup, these are my co-workers.

Aloha means goodbye

-Foxx