It snowed yesterday. Why the hell do I live here again??!?
This guy is my new hero.
Looks like The Situation took the time off between seasons a little hard. Not only is he crushing a beer between sets, in his (mother’s) porch, but he’s single-handedly setting the Italian American stereotype back about 20 years by simply existing. I bet he still has an IROC in the driveway. No, no, it doesn’t run, but every Sunday he likes to go out and try to turn it over while blaring a little “Pour Some Sugar On Me” from the 8-track player. I guarantee when the filming was over, he yelled into the house “Hey MA!! When’s dinna??”
See, things like this are kinda bitter-sweet to me, because for everyone who actually knows what the hell they’re doing in the gym, there’s an ass-hat like this completely throwing the curve for the rest of us. Then when someone looks at the video, they think “hey, he looks like he’s doing something cool!! I should try that!!” I’m sure that’s what Jillian Michaels and Tracy Anderson thought when they decided to get into training. “Hey, I like to yell at people and make money, but no one would hire me as a dominatrix. I should be a trainer instead!!”
We’re now in the midst of the NHL play-offs, and as a dutiful Canadian (and one who grew up in British Columbia), I’m definitely pulling for Vancouver to win it all. To all my non-Canadian friends, you have to understand something: I don’t normally follow hockey, but at this time of the year the entire COUNTRY takes the nights off to watch hockey. (NOTE: If America ever wanted to invade Canada, do it during the third period of game seven ofthe finals. You could set up shop and no one would notice until you started printing your own currecny here) Old ladies talk about teams power plays while waiting for the bus. Law firms re-schedule court dates if the game goes into overtime, because they know they won’t be able to make it there early and coherent. This is beyond national pride, because if you are asked by any member of law enforcement who won the game last night, not knowing means you’re automatically required to clean the ice off the zambonis between periods as part of your community service.
For those who may not know what the sweet H-E-double hockey sticks a zamboni is, it’s the machine used to re-finish the ice surface between periods, and the secret fantasy of every red blooded Canadian that we all want to drive one around the ice.
When I was growing up in a small town called Rossland, BC (don’t act like you may have heard of it), I got a chance to do something that very few kids these days actually partake in.
I went outside and found ways to entertain myself without the use of video games, internets, or texting. I know, I must be old. One of the ways I would entertain myself would be to ride my mountain bike off of things I probably shouldn’t have ridden my bike off of. Jumps, small sheds, etc. I probably got a few concussions along the way, because my short term memory is not all that great. It’s probably from getting a few concussions when I was younger from riding my bike off things.
(Wow, no one laughs at concussion jokes anymore!!)
I saw a picture that borught an immediate flashback to me standing at the top of the corner of Railway street and Butte street, looking down along the 16 percent grade and thinking FUCK YEAH!!
Alas, there was no peer at the end of my road. Just an intersection prior to a short uphill that required a leap of faith and superhuman hearing prior to take-off to ensure there wasn’t another car coming. But when you’re standing at the top of a hill like that, the blood pounding in your ears can make you think you hear things, or make you not hear things. I’m sure if my mom knew about half the stupid stuff I did to occupy myself growing up, she would be sitting in a corner of her kitchen, hugging her knees and rocking slowly. Love you mom.