You can feel it in the air around here. The way it hasn’t significantly snowed in 2 weeks. The way the forecast is calling for some rain this weekend. The way it’s the middle of January and 40 degrees. Fuck it, it must be banked slalom time.
So you skipped the A-rob Smashlife Banked Slalom and you didn’t make the cut for the Mt Baker Banked? It’s cool, you can ride the Legendary Tyrol Basin Focus Boardshop in Madison Banked Slalom.
That’s right, this weekend, all of us Midwestern oldsters can prove our worth and push our chairlift to on-snow time to 8:1. Certainly, there will be some gear for the winners, but these aren’t the class of people I run with. I’m more with the side bets and slugging beer at the starting line crew. Shit is gonna get raw. Well, at least old man raw.
Anyway here’s the promo poster for it:
Which might look like something you’ve seen before, because you know, fuck a designer.
At least we didn’t have to break out the lighter fluid. I don’t know if that shit happens in other places, or if it’s just some Tyrone’s Basement anomaly. But it happens every year.
By late March, the local ski-knoll has rags and jugs of lighter fluid for anyone to use at the bottom of the hill. You see, the snow is melting down, and half of it is artificial anyway, so the snow filthy. That filth collects on your base and after two or three runs it’s like trying to ride on Velcro hook-and-loop fabrics. The lighter fluid strips the filth from your base, and I’m pretty sure it destroys the base as well.
And people do this with complete disregard for the amount of lighter fluid being dumped directly on the ground, their gear, and their exposed skin. Sheeeit. In oh-six I saw a dude, trying to light a cig, go up in flames after using this method. Everyone just let him burn down to ash.
Rulezizrulez and we were trying to grasp the last gasps of winter.
But none of that happened this weekend. Even though it was pushing 50 degrees on Saturday. It also rained. A lot. We still rode. Even tried a few tricks. Then we stood in the rain and drank parking lot beers. Fuck man, it was near perfect. Sure the entire knoll wasn’t even open yet, and there were only a few rails, one jump and the light was flat as that girl you dated in college when you were on that “boobs don’t matter” bender. And it was nearly a downpour. None of that mattered. It was still snowboarding. It was rad.
Also, at the risk of shayboarderism: I was kept very dry by to my Holden Durden pants and my super old AK Gore-Tex XCR coat. Thanks to those companies for making good products. But Holden, maybe you guys could work on making buttons that stay on the garments for longer than 25 minutes.
@nd Social Medium
There is something wonderful about this tweet:
GingSTEELE is enetz radness for sure. Part-shred mama. Full-time mama. Pretty stoked she’s back on the tweets. Buttfuck, get with that tweet. That thing is heavy. The story she is telling is way bigger than 140 characters. The language is great. Such suspense—WILL SHE BE ABLE TO DO IT? I’m gonna read that tweet like 30 more times.
That NdGT tweet above GingSTEELE’s is solid as well.
#rd I’m a Writer
You guys remember when I got a degree in Creative Writing? You guys remember when I got wait-listed at the University of Arkansas-Fayetteville and rejected from a grip of other top graduate schools in the country?
Yeah, those were good times.
But now, after all those years of fretting over unrecognized genius, self aggrandizing bloggery, and realignment of life dreams, Simon & Schuster has decided to enter the game of self-publishing.
I don’t want to brag, but I’m about to become one of the most prolific writers of 2013. You should probably plan on buying such future classics as:
Ten Days to Financial Dependency
Teddy Roosevelt: An Autobiography
After the Aftermath: The Story of How America Forgot About Dre
On The Road II
Pagan Wood and the New Europe: The Forests of the American Upper Midwest as a Apt Simulacrum of Colonial New England and The Relations to Darkness
Dinosaurs: The Book of Dinosaurs
Land of The Rising Sun: Teaching Your Preteen Children About Extreme Porno
Mamma Mia: The Best of My 2012 Olive Garden Fan Fiction
On The Road III
I’ll let you know when that shit hits JeffBezos.com
The author, Matt Barr, really knows what he’s talking about.
Funny thing about that. I think it was about a year ago when I first saw one of his stories come up. I didn’t really know if should agree with his piece. First off it was crisp, not something I expected to be reading about the shred game. Not knowing his name from other (USA-centric) snowboarding pubs, I had to do a bit of digging.
It wasn’t long before I discovered he was working for a Journalism and PR firm. I was livid. How the fuck are you going to trust anyone from a PR firm to write about snowboarding? I know the kind of schlock PR writers pump out. Fuck those dudes. Liars. I knew this because I worked for an agency that was too heavily PR-ed. Those dudes lie more than advertisers.
So I had no respect for Senor Barr. But I also followed him on twitter. Straight up stalkerism. I was just waiting for him to get something wrong and then use it as fodder to strengthen my distrust of who was running the snowboarding.
Then, the more I paid attention, the more I realized he was on point. The dude knows his game and he legitimately cares about the shred game. He is one of us, even if I don’t know who “us” is.
At this point I can say I click just about every link Matt Barr posts up. I should probably mention that before he got into the PR game he was the editor at Whitelines, so he’s got some history. Plus, he recommends some pretty good books.
I cannot wait to pull these bitches.
I think they look worse now than they did on day two.
3st: We’re still snowboarding
Saturday and Sunday, Tyrol Basin. Shredathon. 8-10 rails to bust your shins on. Or, if you’re old like me, you can hang out eat grilled meats and drink beer in 16-oz cans. Or you can stay home and watch the Red Bull SuperNatural on the couch. We all make choices, dude, choices. All of us.
4nd: The Choice of a New Generation
Glen Coco > John Galt*
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.
Complex is fucking worthless. Today their lead article is about the 50 best slogan tee shirts ever. Check this:
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.
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.
This iFone ad is stupid.
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.
Oh what? You want a dessert too, fatty?
I’m not going to claim I finally went snowboardering. That would just be ridiculous. This is Wisconsin, this is yesterday, and on new year’s eve it was 60 degrees and raining. This is clearly not snowboardering season.
But if I had gone out I can assure you it wouldn’t have been at Tyrol Basin last week. Poco and I wouldn’t have taken off from Milwaukee around noon and gotten in four laps before the light went flat. Nor would have I worn a helmet. That is just absurd.
I can also assure you that if Poco and I had gone riding, I wouldn’t have forgotten to adjust my new bindings so they fit my boots, forcing me to make adjustments in the lift line. That’s fucking amateur work.
Other things I wouldn’t have done:
Fallen 6 inches off the corrugated tube.
Tried jumping again.
That silly, flappy thing I do with my arms after landing.
Given up early to drink Winter Skal.
Told some kid I really liked my Indoor Survival, except that stickers don’t adhere to it very well.
And lastly, had we gone snowboardering, we certainly would not have taken a picture of this bit of amazing:
So you showed up here today looking for Trivia? Tuff break. It’s on the delay this week. We gotta do some recappery from the weekend.
I took Saturday to blast over to Blue Mounds State Park because it’s supposedly a rad place to ride bikes. I also figured this would be a good opportunity to catch some lunch and talk shit with poppa vR. We hit the Grumpy Troll in Mt. Horeb. For anyone who’s never been to Mt Horeb, you should know that town fucking loves trolls. Their love for mythical, magical midgets is only surpassed by Iceland and elves. (Now you might want to talk for a minute, about the Irish and their leprechauns, but those are imaginary.) So yeah Trolls are huge over there. Trolls are to Mt. Horeb as beer is to Milwaukee.
Mt Horeb also loves being the home of Tyrol Basin. That’s some shred history right there. Iguchi. Sofa jib. ‘Tis an image that shall last for all times, ‘tis an image that is timeless. Plus it’s Iguchi.
FYI that picture was lifted directly from the Burton K-K-Kontain website, and prolly a J. Curtes photog. Double Wisco action!
After lunch I split over to Blue Mounds State Park. This place is part of the Horribly Hilly Hundreds race, so there is a fair amount of climbing involved. PLUS the land is nothing but glacial remains with limestone all over the place to chew up your tires and your flesh. I feel like I should also mention that it was HOT on Saturday. I mean, it was warm in Milwaukee, but somehow the SW part of Wisco is consistently 130 degrees hotter. So the first thing I did was start to sweat. I also stopped to slackberry some pics. I would have grabbed more, but it’s fall in Wisconsin they whole place looks like this:
Yeah the biking was really great. The trails are fun. While not technical, they are super fast-able and the rock out cropping do give you plenty of options for little drops. I’m going to have to get back there at least once this fall, and when I go back I’ve got to remember to trust the bike and just let it go.
After the bike-a-thon I stopped off to see Moefaniel and his boy Finnstaggin. The young buck is growing up fast. Holmes is already dropping bombs like “Da” and “Fizz.” And he’s got this mop of red hear that will melt all the ladies who dig on Shaun White but kind of find him repulsive as well. LADYKILLER.
I also tried to catch the Hater, but he wasn’t allowed to come outside and play.