Archive for the ‘Madison Anti-Boredom Campaign’ Category

2012-27: A Few Quick Mind Benders

Wednesday, March 14th, 2012

Breakfast:


Lunch:

Might I suggest the gnocchi.

Dinner:

Dessert:

Supergoodthingmaker

2012-25: Bloggers Medley

Monday, March 12th, 2012

Breakfast:

Full fucking weekender at Tyrone’s Basement. Let’s break it down by the numbers:

• 2 minute park laps
• 300 vertical feet
• 5 minute chair rides
• 62 degrees
• 144 ounces of PBR
• 9/10 on the Frank-Wolf Ball Sweat Scale

After two days of hard jumping into slush, my body hates me. But this is just training before I get to Tahoe for a five-day snow orgy. I gotta be honest, I wasn’t feeling a need to carry the Cheetah out there. But now I’m reconsidering. I can’t be riding a 157 park deck in the steep and deeps at Kirkwood. Shit. Now I’m carrying 3 boards out there. Why is this anything to complain about?

I should also mention that I spent the weekend riding the Parkitect:

This thing is fun and I could ride it switch. What more do you need? I guess I could say that it also had some mad pop and kept me landing like a feline. The 157 felt just right, and frankly I can’t wait to get back out on this thing. Was it better than my Mr. Nice Guy? I think it might be.
Whatever, Hooner also talked about this deck in a little more depth. Read what his mouth says here.

Lunch:
Complex is fucking worthless. Today their lead article is about the 50 best slogan tee shirts ever. Check this:

Lahnk

Essentially they have compiled “50 movie quotes people say” or “50 reasons you should watch Two and a Half Men.”

But wait there’s more.

It was just last July, that the same publication told you these slogan tee shirt were the 39st worst thing that ever happened to men’s fashion. BOOM 7 months later, they’re endorsing ‘em. 11/10 on the Frank-Wolf Hackosity scale.

Milk Break:
I know men’s snowboarding is supposed to be so much cooler to watch, but I can’t even count their spins anymore. And for the most part, watching snowboarding on TV has a 90% chance of being 100% boring. On the other hand, I think this mamajamma has like 3 tons of style riding with her.

You see the way she’s down on those landings? Dragon ass. Then just bang-bang back up. I’ll watch her ride snowboards all day.

Dinner:
This iFone ad is stupid.

Lets examine:
1. 14-years olds with iFones are fucking bitches, all of them. People who use Siri and aren’t driving are idiots.
2. If you have to ask were a music store is, give up. True musicians can just feel where the shops are. I cannot sense this, that is why I am not a musician. I’m just going to assume RockGod went to Guitar Center.
3. You need to know how to play something? Maybe while you were at the music store you could have picked up a couple of playbooks. I bet Siri forgot to mention that, didn’t she. You brainless twit.
4. Migraine Headache is a shitty band name. But probably perfect for a band that gave up on Zeplin and went to covering The Clash. Get a really name like Prodrome or even just Migraine. See that, shorter names with similar subject matter and way more aggressive. Toughen up, dude.
5. Siri, please tell Julie and Kate, this band isn’t playing at “THE garage.” The band is playing at “A garage, “HIS garage,” or better yet “HIS PARENTS’ garage,” tonight.
6. Way to play with you back to your audience, asshole. You’re no Miles Davis. You’re also no Rock n’ roll fun.
7. RockGod? With an ego like that I have a feeling Julie and Kate are going to be really unimpressed when you send them a few dick pics. If you wanna be a real rock god, shoot yourself in the face.

Steve Jobs must be so proud of his company.

Dessert:

Oh what? You want a dessert too, fatty?

2012-24: US Open memories

Friday, March 9th, 2012

Une

The US Open of snowboarderism is happening this weekend. Well, most of it is happening as I type and you read, but the finals will be this weekend. I don’t even know who we’re supposed to be cheering for. Are we supposed to be cheering for anyone? Or do we just stand on the side of the pipe and discuss Nidecker’s business plan for board sales in North America.

The first time I attended the US Open was in 2000. The last time I attended the US Open was in 2000. I was too inexperienced to really get on the party train. Plus I had just driven down from Burlington for the day. I had never been. I was just told that I should certainly go. Stratton was fucking way too weird for me. I swear to christ I saw a dude in a tuxedo, on stilts, juggling. I was shook. By that point in my life I had seen some shit,  but I wasn’t ready for Stratton. My mouth was dry. I had a spot of blood on my jacket that had fallen from my nose. My ears were ringing.

I stood on the edge of the halfpipe and watched shit go down. It’s hard for me to say who my idols were at that time. Obviously Terje. Jeffy. Peter Line. It was a weird time in snowboarding and it was a weird time for me. I had just finished living in the south. My exposure to snowboarding was minimal during that time. 2 days of riding the previous winter and limited access to shred mags. I owned a Forum. I bought it at the B-side from a dude named A-dog who I would occasionally see at dancehall reggae jams at RJs. I wish I could say these were made-up facts.

Anyway, I snapped pics with a point and shoot loaded with film. I got these pics of Brushie.

They aren’t good pics by any means, and A-man is going to tell me to show the lip,  but they are the raddest to me. I also have a pic I love of some dude just tweaked on his Dragon (second time in 7 days I have referenced that board). Terje was there. Poaching. Daniel Franck, definitely a super ripper at the thyme, sharing the name, just blasting in my face like an adult film star, that was rad.  One of the Teter brothers was on a monster board, like a Canyon 169, and he was going way over everybody’s heads. But he was strait airing, and as Louie Vito and Shawn White have shown us, it’s all about twinkle toes.

But snowboarding was different then. Ross Powers won and did so in a polo shirt. RLXXX. At some point I picked up the autograph of some broad named Leslie Olson. I don’t remember what she did, but she felt a need to tell a young Rumorator to  “Dream big.” She wrote this rather large too. I can only assume this was to drive home the message.

It was weird. It was awesome. I don’t know that I will ever go back.

The following year my name also appeared in Eastern Edge magazine.

Deux

I’ve decided I’m cheering for Kazu Kokubo. Mctwist. Chicken wing.

and Kjersti Buaas, but that is because she fucking rips shit and is scandonavianly attractive.

On a sarcastic note: I really hope Kelly Clark and Jamie Anderson and Chaz Guldemond win. The Terry Richardsons of snowboarding.

Trois

Can someone please explain this too me:

500,000 people can’t be wrong! Also, she makes me feel okay about my dancing.

Le bois

Sorry about that last part. Get yourself corrected:

_El-P_-_The_Full_Retard

2012-23: What to do This Weekend

Thursday, March 8th, 2012

I assume most of us wont be at the US Open. So might I suggest this instead.

Slushy park laps and serious ball sweat. Be there. Bring beers.

2012-22: Weekeded Adventures

Monday, March 5th, 2012

1rd

Considering I was headed to the town that is in pretty much the dead center of Wisconsin, I wasn’t expecting much.

Wausau has too thick of an adipose zone that is that Badger State to be influenced by Chicago or Minneapolis. Even Madison and Milwaukee seem too far away to be connected to this town. I don’t even know if there is an airport around here.

Wausau is also the gateway to the Northern Wisconsin, “The Northwoods” as it’s called by those who try to sell it as vacationland to people in the suburbs of Chicago, or as they like to call it “Chicagoland.” But for those who aren’t going to the Northern Wisconsin to vacation. Wausau is the jump-off. The kind of place you get a few bags of rice, a few pelts, a canoe or the Carhartt jacket for the wildness that lies beyond. The people of this community are a kind and gentle people, but they are realist. They will wish you well and pat your back before they watch you head north. But by the time you’re out of sight, they’ve already finished grieving for the loss of you.

I’ll be happy to go on and on about Northern Wisconsin, but don’t want to bother you with that here.

However, this visit to Wausau was  wicked. The first thing we did was head to Central Boardshop to meet up with shop owner/runner/everything dude Kurth. It’s pretty legit shop he’s got going on—clean, well-organized, good gears and a solid crew of locals hanging about. We caught dinner with him and a couple of his shop riders (for real, he’s got shop teams for skate and shreddery.) and then flipped it into a few drinks. Those drinks turned into shots and darts and bad dancing all around. But whatever, even the lackluster DJ couldn’t stop the crew. Those dudes know how to cut loose on the edge of civilization.

If you’re ever in that area, check out Central. They’ll probably have whatever you need.

2st

The next day we were up at Granite Peak early. Working with fancy-pants, 2013 gears. People kept asking for stickers. I just deferred them to Keef and Jay. Not my job, not my problem. Ya dig? After a while we rode snowboards, and I rode this thing:

Definitely not the ideal conditions or location for such a board, but it was wicked fun. It put a smile on my face.

I also have this in my possession for the time being: I still need to use it:

Pretty stoked.

3th

I want to be in the middle of this picture:

Mostly because they’re in Germany.

4nd

Only 11 more days until the Tahoe adventure begins.

Peace out, Fuck-os.

2012-21: White Snow Black Metal

Friday, March 2nd, 2012

1rd

As I do so often lately, I found myself talking about black metal with GooseFeather yesterday. We were sharing a chat-sesh and watching Satyricon videos. From there, we began discussing the bandmember Frost, which is a supa-metal metal name.

Then we started creating our own metal names. I guess he wants to been known professionally as Goosepocalypse, which is legit. I have my 2012 metal names reduced down to:
• Death Strider
• RealFakeBlood
• Abort! Abort! Abort!
• Octopodes
• Lacerator
• Rick Santorum
• Flesh Bellows
• Draeg Scotter
Milk Money
• Bloodangel
• Mulch
• Ligature
• Unending Closure
• Doyen Specula
• Mustelidae Martes Martes
• When I was Six I Had a Pet Goat Who Spoke To Me and Taught Me the Ways of The Ancient Ones And Told Me To Gut Him and Use His Entrails as a Scarf Because the Coming Winter Was to be The Coldest the Earth Has Ever SEEEEEEEEEEEEEN, or just Six Goat Scarf for short.

Vote early and vote often on this one.

2th
I’m trying so hard to not acquire tee shirts lately. But it’s tough when this gets released:

And big thanks to jhamlett for ordering this for me.

Which brings me to the next item. How do I pronounce jhamlett? If I’m going to reference the dude, I should know how to say his name. So, do I call him Jam-let, or is it Jaamlet? I like the second option, because it sounds like Omelet. Also, this pronunciation and the spelling of his name give him a slight Indian (subcontinent, not first people) tweak.

Makes him more mysterious. Like “Fuck dude, if there is anything I have learned from pop culture, it’s that the Punjabi are not to fucked with.”

3st
Perpendicular recumbent rickshaw shitshow

4nd

Bike pants!
I want the Levi’s commuter pants because I love communting or something. Don’t believe me? Check out Rhys Hastings bloggery.

2012-17: Lisptrack #7: The Winter That Wasn’t and Dog Stories

Thursday, February 16th, 2012

2-15-12 by Rumorator

I said strive, I should have said thrive.

2012-13: Mega Sprots! Weekend: How to Host the Best Super Bowl Party Ever, America

Friday, February 3rd, 2012

Let me guess, you’ve come to my blog looking for tips on how to throw the best Super Bowl party ever. And all the other blogger sites just keep telling you to “have plenty of drinks (even non-alcoholic ones, hehe)” and “just wrap it in bacon.”

Well shit, I got some real tips to help you enjoy the Super Bowl.

Make the game high stakes. Upon your guests arriving, ask them which team they are backing. Make a note of their response. Every time the Gigantes score, the Patriots fans lose a finger. When the Patriots score, Gigantes fans lose a finger.

Install flame throwers and confetti cannons that will discharge whenever there is a score, or jared, the piece of shit from the Subway ads, shows up on the screen.

Try some exotic snacks. We’ve already covered that bacon is over. Way over. So why not go way out and get some horse meat. But don’t tell your guests until after they have eaten. If you really want to take this to the next level, invite your neighbor and feed him his own cat. After the game hand him the cat’s collar as a parting gift.

Be sure to arrange the seating properly. For this, make sure everyone can easily see the television. In fact it’s better if people cannot make eye contact with each other. No one needs that kind of shame. Also supply blankets.

Every time someone says “I’m only watching it for the commercials,” they lose a finger.

Find out what station the Super Bowl is on. Now make sure your don’t get that station. This will probably anger some guests, so be sure to have Tecmo Bowl ready to play when things get heavy.

It’s a real downer to mention how many millions of dollars it costs the government to have a fly over from fighter jets. To lighten the mood I usually mention that I could stand out there and wave my dick around for like $6.

Taco Dip!

Make it an entire Super Bowl season. For the next three weeks, whenever someone mentions, with an air of smugness about them, they didn’t watch the Super bowl, or at least get a little drunkish, throw them in a headlock and tell them about America. How we conquered the Indians, created the bald eagle, and goddammit, we watch the Super Bowl. Unless of course the Super Bowl non-watcher was riding snowboards.

Sit around and wait for this ad to come on:

Then think about these dudes rolling around in piles of money:


And then think about the day Brad and I were in a scooter gang.

BTW: totally took that pic from the hometapes website.

2012-10: Where we talk about things

Tuesday, January 24th, 2012

Megatradeshow week:

Yesterday, I found myself at a tradeshow in Chicago that was specifically for people who do things like run buildings. It was super-busy. Filled with dudes with biznass hair. All those dudes were showing their foreheads. The rest of the uniform consisted of a suit with azultooth, or dockers and a polo shirt blasting your company name. I was not fitting in very well. On the other hand it was rad to see my work in action.

Regarding this tradeshow: If you want to see some serious corpo-big brother action, stay alert to the work of businesses offering building solutions. They can smell you.

Also, shout out to part-time bloggerman, part-time mega-marketer Andre Wenzy of Boards & Brews who was there heating it up. I said hello and we spoke awkwardly for about 4 minutes.

Contrast all of that with SIA which goes down this weekend. I will look like the stiff, but still accept your beers. Thank you.

TheChicagoManualofStyleSixteenthEdition Brown and the Mystery of the Wrecked Wrist:

Upon returning home yesterday my wrist was sore. But not that “I’ve been masturbating for 6 hours” kind of sore. Plus, it was my left wrist. I stretched it out a bit and eventually went to sleep. This morning I am in 100% crippler mode. I would guess I have 50% range of motion and gripping strength. Plus it seems like it might be a little swollen, but that may just be my perception or my weight issues.

Now the question is, how has this happened? I haven’t put any extraordinary stress on the wrist as of late. I haven’t been to a house party, so this isn’t some I-was-so-wasted-and-woke-up-with-bruised-ribs-and-some-forgettable-leaning-towards-regrettable-broad situation.

Can you solve the mystery?

Karmic:

Yesterday, in the rain/snow I was walking to work and was hit with a tidal wave of gutter slush from a passing car. Head-to-toe splashed. I did my best seakkle and just kept walking. What else could I do? The moment it happened I was going to scream, but almost instantly something stopped me. I knew it was payback. Over a decade later the karmic forces have caught up to me.

It starts like this: A 17-year old Rumorator, behind the wheel of a, oddly khaki-colored VW station wagon. It is early spring. The snowbanks are melting. The sun this time of year in Northern Wisconsin gives a false sense of warmth. In the Volkswagen, the windows are down, Fugazi is in the tapedeck, Wheeler is riding in the passenger seat. We still had enough time before work at the YMCA to drive aimlessly and maybe smoke one more cigarette. We hadn’t even left the Third Ward when we saw him. Older, probably in his 60s, standing on the apron of his driveway between the sidewalk and the street. He was breaking away the layers and layers of ice that had been forming since November.

No more than five feet from him was a puddle of spring’s thaw. Dirty with salt and sand and the debris that accumulates during five months of no street sweeping. Wheeler and I knew what needed to be done. He began to roll up the window on his side. I shifted down into 2nd and pressed the accelerator. We rocketed towards the murk with the light roar of a German car that is passed its prime, but still had the strength propel itself towards this puddle or keep pace at 90mph after a long day of snow-boarding, and would until it was crashed into a deer on new year’s day. The whir of that motor didn’t phase the man in his driveway. He keep working even as the car hit the puddle, covering him with the largest slush wave a car like that could ever create.

I imagine, as he shook the slush and grime from his arms, he turned to see the car, to hear the mo-tor, now mixed with the laughter of youth, rounding the corner and speeding away. Not once did the feeling of guilt settle over us in that car. We knew funny when we saw it. We continued laughing for a few minutes. When the laughing finally died we turned the car back towards the scene and washed that dude one more time.

That is why I had to just keep walking yesterday morning.

Artist in Residence:

Shout out to The Second Inventor of the Worm, who was awarded a residency in Gwangju, South Korea

Dude is shooting films. Blasting.

Mouthful of Metal:

I ate at Kuma’s Korner last night. I had the Megadeth burger. Still felt like a pussy.

The future:

I’m probably gonna feel like this by the weekend:

2012-7: Ask the Editor

Tuesday, January 17th, 2012


Here goes. Wait. Stop.

Pssht. False start. You should go read megablog over at flawsyfiles. It’s a keeper, for sure.

 Now, it sould be noted that I passed a very important e-milestone today. That’s right, 10,000 twitters. 10,000 twitters, I just tossed the rig in park and I’m just gonna leave it there, idling. Not even taking the plates off it.
 

I’m sure some of you are going to be all like “WTF mate? Kory Stamper? What kind of crap 10,000th tweet is that?”

But really I think you need to check this lady out.

Classic case of girl nerded the fuck out. You never even notice her, but then one day she drops Octopodes on you and BLAWF! You’re hooked. Done and over. Plus, she is getting more and more and more attractive. Seriously. Timeline her. She’s pretty much the best thing to happen to words since Kafka on the Shore, which is the best thing to happen to words since Party Girl, which is the best thing to happen to words since the word “word” was coined.

Amazing. She ever has this in her Google Bio: bewildered Internet phenom

MammaJamma knows she’s enets mega. Adding her blog to the blogroll as well, because words are what’s happening.
I don’t even know where I was today before I learned Associate Editors name.