Things are looking good this week:
The weather-freaker-outers are saying possibly 20 inches. I’ll be pleased with half of that. Granted there is a cold-ass Thursday in the mix but it’s Wisconsin. Buck up, kid.
Addendum #1
Snowboarder Mag uses silly embaed codes so i can’t drop it in here, but you should check out this video.
Fuck your Hootie and the Blowfish tracks.
I would have never guessed this crap was public domain already.
Addendum #2
It’s coming, bitches.
Bonus Image: Ghost of Rumorator!
Article 1:
This thing is strong. And it was created by some grown up shreds. Excellent work by Ocupop. If you haven’t got a clue, get more smarters: W3C
Article 2:
Still keeping my fingers secretly crossed for SIA. If it doesn’t happen, I have to mail some beers to This Guy. I’d rather pick up some free Silver Bullets from the Salomon booth and tell him I bought his beer. Then together we can go eyeball the ladies at the Nobis booth. NOBIS. Canadian. Not Nomis.
Article 3:
You know how you can tell the Olympics are crooked as fuck? They call the Dew Tour and the X-Games reputable. For real:
Just to get it straight, this excerpt came from TWsnowboarding. So really it’s TWsnow that thinks the X-Games and the Dew Tour are credible series of events. Maybe I’m wrong, but aren’t these invite-only events? There is no open format to them. It’s essentially like asking for input on labor unions at a meeting of the Fortune 500. For real if your sponsor is spending piles of money to promote you, you get to go. Blanco spends his off-time building houses in for Disney and trying to figure out where he’s going to dump the girl’s body when his Gator apprenticeship is complete, and the X-Games goes on fucking standstill to see if he announces to his facebook fans that he’ll be there.
The good news is that el Blanco “Likes” the X-Games.
Yet Andreas Wiig can’t get an invite?
On the other hand the Blanco, one of the best jock-pipe riders in all of snowboardering isn’t even playing in the dew tour, for the winter at least. It makes me wonder if Red Bull sponsors his snowboarding career, but not his skate endeavors.
Amendment 1: Key points to take from todays bloggery:
* Nicholas Cage’s career inserted as a fixed point for positioning.
After a year in the making The Questionable Cuisine Challenge ’10 finally went down. The list of players was smaller than expected—but that’s cool, we now know who’s a real deal meal head.
I mean, where was Keef Love? Where was this broad? Where was GRShutters?
Not putting on seven pounds in an afternoon, that’s for sure.
Anyway Larsma, The Boss and I stacked it up properly. We kicked off the day at Speed Queen (or Speed Qween depending on what sign you were looking at). This place is legendary, and rightfully so. Fucking BBQ and ribs for as far as the eye can see. Some white folks were like, “Yo that is in a bad neighborhood, be careful.” For real this place is like a minute from downtown, hardly a shaky district.
The rulezizrulez of the games was that you had to get a meal at each stop. I started off here with a pulled pork combo. Larsma had pork as well, while The Boss went with beef, I put that shit down quick (or qwick)
If I had brought any common sense with me, I would have just eaten five meals here. The food was good. And you see how the coleslaw is leaking over, rubbin’ up on the bun? That’s all bonus.
NEXT up we rolled on to Jake’s Deli. Another classic Milwaukee eatery in a supposedly bad neighborhood. Okay, so this place might be rougher than the Speed Kween district, but whatever. I figure street crime is like the Amur Tiger—let it be and it won’t maul you.
This is when I got happy I didn’t just stay at Speed Queen. Mega meals here. Shit reminded me of that Katz’s joint in NYC, without Meg Ryan fauxgasming inside. None the less I’ll have what she’s having. Reuben time!
I probably should have held up a ruler for comparison, but believe me, that’s a mean $10 deli masterpiece. Also the pickle was eaten. At this stop The Boss had this ridiculous pastrami, and I can’t remember what Larsma had. But she upped it by grabbing a Pepsi as well. 150 Calorie BONUS!
After this we had longer commute to Stop #3. Before shit went foul.
Something that looks like this is never a good idea. This is where the sickness starts to set in. We walk in and they’ve got like 30 different menus, and given the day’s adventure the most palatable item looked like a 4-piece and potato wedges meal. The outlook was bleak. Then we were told they have an entire sit-down joint connected to it, so we moved into there. On the sit-down menu they thankfully had a 1-piece, potato and coleslaw combo that we all grabbed. Still the potatoes were instant and I may have eaten a chunk of still-dry potato flakes.
None-the-less we persevered. Except Larsma she couldn’t finish her chicken at this place.
Pit stop for a digestif:
After this, it was on to Golden Chicken. The previous chicken meal was broasted and the eats in this joint was straight up deep fried. I don’t even remember the last time I had fried chicken, it’s just not something that works it’s way into my diet. So I was already kind of grossed out and feeling a bit tilted. The Golden Chicken meal was a 2-piece with coleslaw, fries and a roll.
As you can see I oped for a bottled water here. Also note that the roll is super dry. Alove might even claim that roll to be “dry-eez.” And I have never seen a bite as angry as the one The Boss took from his roll. Also note that those fries were the worst fries I’ve ever had. Also note that in this photo you can’t see that Golden Chicken sells an ass load of lotto tickets and is connected to a check cashing place. You do the math.
Things are not good by this point. We had kind of settled into a delirium and made our way to NYPD. That’s New York Pizza Delivery for those not in the know.
By this point we’d all had enough and considered it fair game when we saw they had shakes and malts on the menu. It was dessert time.
But don’t think we got off light. Those were some thick-ass malts, and really, after the meals we’d just consumed a truckload of dairy is not what the human gut needs. But they were all finished, as was the QCC.
ps. Next year it’s going to be an all-gyro or all-pizza theme. It will probably be shittier.
So I’m sitting in an office somewhere and I’m 100% sure the corpse Michael Jackson just wished me a Merry Christmas. Okay, not me specifically, but everyone here. It was touching.
Man, do I hate Christmas music. Mostly because there are rarely ever new Christmas songs. It’s just the same old, same old wearing you down. There are a few songs that aren’t as bad (I covered this last year, so you can stop reading now if you know what’s coming) :
I’m pretty sure the reason these tracks haven’t started to grind your soul is that they haven’t been in the collective human unconscious for long enough. But as soon as I hear like two words of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” from Mariah C, I’ve got a my toe on the trigger, Cobain style.
Now I know I took it to the next level with that “collective human unconscious” line but it’s a fact. There are a few things that humans just know:
You can double check all of those concepts, but they’re all for real.
At this point, all we can hope for is a Gayngs Christmas album in 2011.
Three Ways I recommend you stay warm this winter:
1. 
That joint right there has a battery-powered heater. Too bad it’s skier cut, because that shit is going to look ridiculous if you’re wearing a helmet.
2. 
Of course this is an option as well. Probably the best looking puffer coat available this season. In any color.
3. 
And you thought they smelled bad on the outside.
I have this ritual that I follow daily: I read for a while, then I listen to Market Place and more often then not I fall asleep with the NYer on my chest. But that sleep only lasts for a few minutes because I get shocked back into the world of the woken by this local radio show that plays 90% crap music. I say crap music because it’s better than the truth:
It’s never good.
But a trend I’ve noticed lately has been to cover Smashing Pumpkins tracks. This is not okay. Firstly, we have not reached the 20-year mark when it becomes okay to cover something. Second off, You should never cover a song unless you can give it something new. Third worldly, making a song tamer and lamer is no reason to cover a song, that is simply Adult Contemporizing.
The first time this happened was with a cover of 1979. I’m not sure who recorded it and it was blobviously super-successful because a simple google search turned up nothing on the matter. Then I heard this schlock yesterday:
Now, now boys, leave the good music alone. Go back to making your music for the Mammoth Mountain crowd.
Rumorator’s honesty crate: I’m not even a big Smashing Pumpkins fan. Sure they were legit, they had their place, and they released some massive songs. You just don’t cover their songs to try and build your audience. Especially when you cover it with a complete condiment bar of processed crap.
And I’m not opposed to covering big songs. C’mon rock and rollers, do it all you want in concert. But you need to make sure you’re going to blow some ear drums.
For additional informational on recording a proper cover CLICK HERE
Top Secret Jussi Training Video:
This does not bode well for the Finn. Tiring after a few seconds? certainly I will wear him down by soft-playing a few longer rallies.
Meanwhilst, Let’s take a look at my training regimen. I’m on this shit like P-90X and creatine:
You tell me who’s ready.
The match of the year is on. Rumorator vs. Jussi Oksanen. Table tennis. Ping pong to the lay MFers. Shit’s about to get raw. Official rules. Update your Facebook. Flash your twitter. Officially ruling. These games are going best of five, all the way to eleven.
I understand that some of you might not know who Jussi is. And I feel bad for you. Jussi is legend. He comes from the long line of snowboarders who make this silly little snowboarding things we do so rad. Plus the guy is all smiles. PLUS 2 The guy runs a water bottle company because he knows that plastics are stupid (por ejemplo: Ron Johnson). Sneak a peek at the visual aid:
Granted it’s not one of his company’s bottles, but the deuce hanging out there, that’s all Jussi. If you want to get a little more info him, check this out his blawg. That’s right. It’s Jussi Oksanen man, myth, legend and bloggerman. But everyone is a bloggerman/bloggermama these days so maybe you’d rather watch this pleasant little piece put out by Bigga B.
Luckily I’ve got the hometown advantage. I’ve got Keylo and Jake running the coaching staff. Mixing up jock-smoothies for me in the morning. Doing work-outs. 500 reps on the work-out machines. Deep tissue massages from Keef after hours. This is Sparta training.
I’m getting ready. Stretching, watching vids of of Jussi’s old matches, Picked up a new Butterfly 7275 Primorac Carbon fl. Getting ready to snap off a couple wins. I’m predicting Rumorator in four matches: 11-4, 11-6, 9-11, 11-0. You see how I toyed with him. Imma let him take match 3, then crush his dreams like he was a fat kid with a sympathy date on prom night.
Like I would know anything about that.
Anyway, Be There: SPiN Milwaukee Saturday Night
How you gonna to go wrong with a wedding featuring:
Easy. You don’t. But these dudes weren’t even the greatest part. The Maxwell Street Klezmer Band was keeping us all moving. We were shaking rumps, blasting hand clappery, and horah-ing until the Pfister shut us down.
The bad news was that the kippah didn’t fit. That was tough to deal with. I guess that my Heebrish brothers just don’t have large grapes. They blobviously missed that eastern European gene.
But everything about this wedding was huge. It was Great to see S&J get married. Now it”s back to the real world as J returns to academia and S has to start her new job as a labor lawyer with a firm that is decorated like this:
My friends are amazing.