Me vs. the Great North American Elk

Reader’s Note: Since this blog is not supposed to, in any way represent reality or accurately report any facts, I have twisted some facts into complete fiction for your reading and my writing enjoyment. What is real is that I did go hunting and I did fill a tag for a calf.

I have taken up a new seasonal hobby; hunting. Hunting elk to be exact. In my humble, inexperienced opinion, there is no finer animal to pursue. If maybe you haven’t seen an elk in real life, they are sort of like a deer, except probably 5 times bigger. They really are huge and if you got in one’s way, it would have no problem killing you. So yes, there are some dangers in hunting, but if you are smart and just shoot the elk instead of trying to pet them, you should be okay.
This was my first season hunting anything in my life and it turned out to be an enjoyable experience. Especially since the hunt ended up being successful. I’ll give you the lowdown, as I choose to remember it.

I was wandering through the woods on a cold and early morning. It was the last day of hunting season and the pressure was on. If I didn’t get an elk today, I wouldn’t be able to harvest one and my family might not survive the long hard winter. It was do or die time. My senses were heightened by adrenaline and I crept very quietly through the brush. The forest was eerily silent and it felt as if I could hear my own heart pounding. Suddenly a flash up ahead! A large animal crashed out from behind a group of trees and trotted down a hill not 100 yards from me. I leveled my rifle and tracked the animal waiting for the perfect shot, until I realized it was a moose. My finger moved away from the trigger. Moose, you almost got your ass dead this morning, I thought.
I moved ahead, even more on edge now. The forest again moved back into silence. I was beginning to think that all my efforts this season were to be for nothing. I imagined the sad eyes of my family when I returned home empty handed and they realized they would be subsisting on potatoes and spam all winter. Then I saw them; a group of about six elk standing to my right, about 200 yards away behind some brush. Best of all they hadn’t noticed me. I slowly aimed my rifle and tried to decide which animal to take down. I settled on a tasty looking young calf, probably born this last spring. Tender and delicious, I licked my lips thinking about the meat that laced the baby elk’s lean body. I had it dead in my sights. I began to slow my breathing and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze….blam! One dead elk calf.

I ended up harvesting an elk calf, which technically yes, is an elk baby. But it had a few short months to develop some tasty muscles before our hunt cut its existence short. After shooting it though, we had to cut it up into manageable pieces to haul out of the woods and off to the meat processor. I’ve never cut into another animal before with a knife except maybe a fish and I guess meat on a plate. This was a little different. The animal was very warm and looked like it could wake up and kick my ass at any second. After touching its eye with a stick a few times though, I assured myself that it was, in fact, dead. We didn’t end up gutting it, so I didn’t have to get completely covered in animal goo, but I got plenty of blood on my hands skinning and wrenching the legs out of the sockets. It wasn’t that bad though. I pretty much knew what to expect. I know where our food comes from.
The best part of the entire experience ended up being a couple days later when we got to cook up a tenderloin. Seasoned with only salt and pepper and cooked to a juicy medium rare, it was one of the greatest gastronomical experiences of my life. After the first amazingly tender bite, I began to giggle to myself. It was so good! A few bites later I actually started to weep. “Oh baby elk! You are so delicious! I love you!” With tears streaming down my face, I finally came to the last bite. I was hesitant to end such an experience, but I couldn’t help myself for long. I savored that last swallow of baby elk for as long as I could and then took a good half an hour to reflect. It must be an awful curse for an animal to taste so good to the human palate. I couldn’t help thinking about what the elk had looked like lying dead in the woods and remembering cutting out the tenderloin that we had just eaten off of its carcass. A little strange, yes, but it was also a complete return to nature.
When the meat gets back from the butcher I will have a freezer full of amazing baby elk meat. It is going to be a long hard winter and I find much comfort in knowing my family and I will survive by feeding off of something I provided for them. I can’t wait until next hunting season!

Sumo for Breakfast

Ahwww CRAP!! I forgot to write a blog last month! Damn it!! That is the first month I have missed in literally, years. Well, there goes my record. It was just a personal record, but it was a record none-the-less. I guess I may as well start all over with this month's installment of "I have a Blog." Maybe I should change the name since an era has ended? I don't see that happening right this instant so I'll get on with what I want to say today.

You're probably wondering why there is a picture of two sumo wrestlers above. Well I'll tell you the tale. This morning I was recruited by the radio station I DJ at to drive around a couple of sumo wrestlers from Idaho Falls. The idea was that we show up at a few locations around town and give away free tickets to watch a sumo wrestling tournament that is in town this weekend. Of course they were decked out in the traditional sumo mawashi, or loin cloth just to make things more interesting. So I loaded up two large naked men into my mid-sized sedan, a Ford Taurus to be specific, and we cruised around town. We stopped at a couple grocery stores, a coffee shop, and the town square. Once we got to a location, the sumos would get out of the car and start doing the traditional sumo stomp while I gave live updates on the radio over the phone. Of course this attracted a lot of stares and curious on-lookers. The first people who wanted free tickets, got 'em, and more than a few attractive ladies stopped by for photos. Seriously ladies, how often do you get the opportunity to pose with a real live sumo wrestler? You better take that opportunity if it ever comes up. Yeah...you better take it! So that's how I spent my morning; freaking people out with some large, nearly naked men.

Oh yeah, just a side note, if you are ever riding shotgun in my car, you may notice the slight stinging scent of body oder in your nostrils. I gotta find my Lysol spray.

Live from Jackson Hole!

If you don't already know, I am sometimes on the radio here in Jackson. I started volunteering at a community radio station just for something to do and it ends up with me hearing my voice on the radio from time to time. It's pretty fun, but I've learned that my voice is probably the worst radio voice in the valley. I know everyone says that they don't like hearing their own voice played back for them to hear. Well I agree, 'cause my voice makes me sound like a slow retarded sloth man. I have a deep voice and if I don't pay attention to how I'm talking, I end up mumbling words together. I need to work on that. Regardless, I am still on the radio and even if you have a voice like an angel, if you're not on the radio, no one cares. Being on the radio rules! So now with being on the radio and if you count this blog, I've managed to expand my way into 2 forms of media, which is 2 more than most people I know. What am I gonna do with all this media exposure? Play music, read public service announcements, and keep plugging away at this crappy blog.

I really need some more interesting things to write about. I could start a weekly social commentary where I sound off on current events, but everyone does that and what would one more uninformed opinion matter?

I will say this though, I find the current, "Tea Party" craze pretty entertaining. People protesting tax hikes and government waste. I wonder why they never showed up during Bush's term as president. He had 8 years of wasted money. Obama hasn't even done anything yet and everyone thinks he's wasting millions. People need to figure out that wasting money is what the government does. I don't think public protests by uninformed white people is gonna make the government stop pumping billions into whatever it is that they do. I think they should at least give Obama a chance to try and fix things before they accusing him of socializing the country and raising taxes. But what do I know, I live in the middle of nowhere and I barely keep up on current events. I live in the only democratic town in a republican state with the lowest population in the nation. My vote here counts for nothing.

Bluegrass Hoedown!

There is a type of music that is popular here in Wyoming and the rest of the mountain states, that may or may not be popular anywhere else in the U.S., I forget. It's called "bluegrass" and I remember when I lived in Michigan I thought bluegrass was a bunch of old guys with huge beards playing away on home-made string instruments accompanied by one guy blowing on a jug. I'm going to let you know that it has actually become a quite popular form of music out here in the mountains.



Over this last weekend I attended a bluegrass festival. It is three days of non-stop bluegrass at the base of a ski resort where everyone camps out for the weekend. It is one of the most fun weekends of the year. I was never a fan of bluegrass until I went to this festival. There's something about being out in the mountains, being completely filthy, and drunk that makes bluegrass awesome.



It's like being a hippy for the weekend. Everyone wears tie-dye and hemp clothing while sporting sandals and a crazy hat. A tent village pops up in a matter of hours and everyone starts getting drunk. Then the music starts and the hoedown begins and doesn't stop for 3 days.



It's a sweet way to loose your mind for a weekend and forget about whatever it is you do for a job. Just let loose and start stomping in the mud with a beer in your hand the whole time.



I took a video I'd like to share with you. Let's see if I can figure out how to put that on here.

Uh....

Whoa...sweet it worked. Ok. This video sucks and I was drunk when I captured it, but maybe it will give you an idea of what it was like. Probably not, but you can hear me declaring how sweet the music is in the background.

Here are a few tips if you ever attend a bluegrass festival. First thing you do at a festival like this is set up camp and take off your shoes. You need your feet to be good and dirty. Also, showers are available throughout the weekend, but will rob you of a large part of the bluegrass experience; gettin' good and greasy. To forget about how dirty you are, you have to have a large supply of alcohol. Once you've started drinking for the day, you can't stop, you'll just get a headache. At the end of the weekend be sure to find a mirror and check your dirtbag-self out before you get clean for the real world again. You'll look real cool.

Jackson Hole Retirement Village

Beer…maybe the world’s most perfect beverage. Refreshing, tasty, and alcoholic. When I have it in a glass, I find it hard not to quaff it down as fast as I can. Its like it has a spell on me…I’m staring at it right now and getting lost in it’s beautiful bubbly yellow haze…it’s almost hypnotic…yeah…I’m gonna suck that beer down right now! No!! Wait! It’s better to enjoy slowly and in moderation, right? To drink it with quiet class and sophistication? Enjoying every sip? Too late, its already gone.

Now on to what I was really going to write about. During the summer, Jackson Hole is invaded by tourists and seasonal home owners (a.k.a. rich old people). I know that I wrote about this subject 2 years ago when I was here during the summer, but maybe you forgot, like I did, how painful the summers are here. As a full-time Jackson resident, it is my job to welcome the summer influx of humanity with a smile and a readiness to take their money. The summer season is the most lucrative for pretty much every business in town except the ski resort. So, when hordes of tourists come knocking for food, beds, and endless activities, the local businesses give them what they want at an only slightly inflated price than normal.

I get somewhat of an insiders look at how the seasonal elderly population enjoys their free time since I live in a neighborhood surrounded by them. I live in a well-to-do old couple’s guest house in the middle of a rich peoples’ neighborhood. I don’t think the people around here like me too much. When I’m driving home it is not unusual for me to receive blank and questioning stares from the neighbors. “Who is that guy? And what the fuck is he doing in our neighborhood?!” You see, old rich people enjoy younger people when they are getting them something to drink, or helping them up the stairs, or mowing their lawn. But if you are invading what they consider to be their safe-haven from young people, in this case, an upscale Jackson Hole subdivision next to a golf course, they don’t like it at all. If I was like, 10 years old they wouldn’t care; little kids are fine for the neighborhood, probably the neighbor’s grandkids. But I’m 26 and I have long hair and drive a dirty car while playing loud music at all hours of the night. Pretty much everything old people don’t like about young people.

I remember driving home in the early evening from work and waving at some people, who I assumed were neighbors, who were out walking their dog enjoying the sunset. As soon as they saw my car heading their direction they grabbed their dog to keep it from getting hit. Not that I was going to hit the dog or was I driving that fast, but to an old man who wants this to be his retirement neighborhood, I’m sure I was going way too fast. I smiled and waved while passing them and they just stared at me. Not necessarily angry stares, just stares of disappointment. Disappointment that all of their money still couldn’t keep young people like me out away from them when they finally decided to retire to an exclusive Jackson Hole neighborhood. They hate me. And really my only crime is being young.

Now that I’m here I guess they will have to get used to the idea that a young guy might be blaring music from his small guest house while they go for a morning bike ride, or that I might be lifting weights in my boxers in my frontyard, or that they have to watch out for a dirty Ford Taurus tearing down their road at 10p.m. I’m sad to say I might be ruining their perfect retirement. The good part is that come winter, they all migrate back to Florida. I appreciate their money, but they don’t really belong here. If you can’t handle a real winter somewhere, why bother showing up for the summer? Oh yeah, that’s right…they’re rich and they get to do whatever they want. Oh well. At least I get to take a small pleasure in the fact that my being young gives them something to grumble about every morning.

Jackson Cab Driver, A Portrait of

"How many pints of vodka and rum can I get for 100 bucks?" This was the question put to me on an otherwise normal night working at the liquor store.
"Uh...I'm not sure," I responded, since this is not the kind of information I keep in my already over-loaded brain. I took a second to look over who was asking this strange question. It was a large fat man, probably around 45 years old. He is one of those people who when you find yourself interacting with them, you don't forget it. This is not because of his eloquent speech or impecable good smell, however. No, it is because of his loathesome ugliness. (Maybe "loathesome" is too strong a word, he wasn't disfigured or anything, but I like that word so I'm gonna use it.) He was around 250 pounds, balding, unshaven, sweaty, and smelly...probably.

"100 bucks, let's see, I'd say like 8 or 9 pints of cheap booze," I guessed after pretending to do some mental math. I looked back at him, waiting for the next curveball this guy was undoubtedly going to throw me.

"Yeah I gotta use the full 100 dollars. It's for this lady's cab fare," he jerked his head over his shoulder, motioning towards a pretty lady standing behind him.

The lady decided to explain. "I got in a car accident and I have to get back to Alpine tonight and I don't have any cash, so I'm buying this alcohol for the cab driver." After realizing the situation she was getting herself into she quickly asked the cabbie, "You're not gonna drink it while you're driving are you?"

"Naw...I wouldn't do that. I'll save it for later." So this guy is a cab driver, I came to understand, and he is having this lady pay him for cab fare in pints of cheap alcohol since she has no cash and only a credit card? I felt sorry for the lady, especially since this was the cab that our store had called for her when she came in a few minutes earlier. Now after totalling her car in an accident, she had to buy 100 dollars worth of booze for a fat, disgusting cab driver, so that he would drive her the 45 minutes to Alpine. My mind was instantly filled with horrible ideas of the worst possible outcomes to this scenario, which I won't elaborate on here since they are pretty morbid.

I realized I had seen this cab driver before in our store. He had tried to buy a bunch of pints with a money order, which I had never had happen before.

"What is this?" I had asked him when he showed me a wadded up Western Union money order.
"It's a money order. You know, you go to the gas station and buy them. I buy them all the time. It's the same as cash."
"Uh...I'll have to ask my manager. I don't know if we take these."
"Why? I use 'em all the time. Of course you take 'em."
"Well I'm asking anyways, 'cause I have no idea what it is."
"You don't use money orders? How do you pay your bills?"
I have a checking account and also internet banking. No one uses money orders. Just you, you fat ass.

After we got that straightened out he asked if he could have a small box. I told him all we had was big boxes. He didn't believe me and insisted that I give him a small box. Then I insisted that we didn't have any and he could get them at the post office for a low price. He finally left.

So that is my history of the fat cab driver. I hope I never have to ride with that guy. He is scary looking and very annoying. I hope that lady made it home to Alpine okay.

This is a prime example of how I like to come up with horrible ideas about a person I barely know based only on their outward appearance and a few brief interactions. I could speculate on what that guy's life is like, but that seems pointless since I can sum it up in a single word, "pathetic." But for some reason I like writing about pathetic people, as you would know if you read this blog at all. They are a lot more interesting to me than writing about some rich guy I may have met who is the CEO of some multinational corporation, whose life has been nothing but successful. Who wants to read about that?

I'm Writing a Blog, Let's See What Happens!

Yo. I'm back ya'll with anotha blog post! So to all ya'll haters out there, you betta check yo 'self fo' you reck yo' self!

I've been listening to too much Ice Cube lately. Sorry. Welcome to this month's installment of my blog. I'm Jeremy and for however long it takes you to read this, you'll be inside my mind. And I'm gonna warn you, it's a strange and rapidly changing place. One second it could be pleasant and welcoming, and just as fast it can turn cloudy and chaotic. But I'm guessing most people are of the same disposition.

Writing a blog for some people infers that they have something interesting to say or that they at least think that their thoughts are interesting enough to share with the rest of the world. But I think that everyone is pretty close to the same, we are all made of the same weird stuff. Our brains mostly work in the same ways, sometimes they feel depressed, or have some strange insight into a strange situation, or enjoy critiquing cultural phenomenons. Everyone wants to be heard and the Internet now gives them a voice, so many people figure, "I should keep a blog. I'm a pretty interesting person. People like to hear what I have to say." I think that this is a tip-off that maybe you shouldn't keep a blog. I'd rather hear from the people that no one wants to listen to. Like hobos, psychotics, and drug abusers. Who wants to listen to another politician, they all say the same thing.

Just like everything on TV, they try to appeal to the status quo, or popular fad at any particular moment. I think we need some reality shows where instead of following around celebrities, they follow around a homeless dude. Maybe he's homeless by choice and travels the country completely free. This guy is shunned by society, but he probably has way more interesting stories than you or me. He didn't follow the same life path that all of us "normal" people did. He said, fuck that, grew a beard, sold all his possessions and hit the road. Some one should get these guys' stories. I'm sure someone else has probably done that already though. Somebody probably thought that hobos would all have cool stories to tell and that they could collect them all and put them in a book. But then in the middle of the project, I bet they realized that all hobos have pretty much the same story about how they become a hobo. It probably involves some sort of substance abuse and/or mental health issues. All the other stories would probably be completely made-up. Why? Because that's what hobos do. They make-up crazy shit to cover up the fact that in reality they don't do anything.

Maybe you're thinking now, that maybe I should go out and see if this theory of hobos is true. I've come up with all these thoughts on the lives of homeless bums, why not prove them as facts? Well the real fact is this will probably never happen, 'cause just like everyone else I chose to ignore hobos rather than talk to them, because in my mind, you can never trust a bum. You gotta be pretty crazy to give up all the sweet luxuries that modern technology provides for the rest of us. That's one fact I don't think you can ever rule out. Bums are crazy.

Why is it that so many of my blog posts start off normal enough but always devolve into a rant about bums? I think I have some bum issues to work out.

Anything else I feel like commenting on right now? Hmmmm...well, only that I think this is not a very good blog post and if you read the whole thing, I'm sorry for wasting your time. You could probably be watching something really cool on TV instead.

But, if you've made it this far, I might as well go on. I currently volunteer at a local community radio station. That's right, I get to put together playlists and talk on the radio. Not live. So far I figure I would be pretty awful at live radio. I'm not very good at pointless banter to fill air time. Instead my playlists are pre-recorded so I can do as many takes as I want. The end results so far are average, I would say. One thing is that I've realized I have a pretty monotonous and weird sounding voice. I always hated hearing my voice recorded and played back to me. To me I sound like a brainless slow-talking ogre. I hope that's not what other people think, but I guess why wouldn't they? But in the end, who cares? I'm on the radio and they're not.

Also I've starting taking lessons in Aikido, a martial art of Japanese origin. Aikido is some what like Judo, in that, it is mostly flips and joint locks. The difference is in the philosophies behind them. Aikido is meant to disable an attacker without killing them or severely injuring them. It is the first martial art I have ever studied and it is pretty fun. We get to do flips, learn throws, and spin around a big stick called a jo. It appeals to my childish ambition to become a martial arts master. Rolling around and learning to fight with a stick is pretty much what I did outside every Saturday as a kid, just without a teacher or any kind of philosphy behind it, other than the fact that I thought it was cool. I still think it's pretty cool, so I'm gonna keep doing it. So next time you see me, I dare you to challenge me to a stick fight!

Today is Wednesday

Keeping a blog ain't always easy. I find myself coming up with fewer and fewer good ideas and mostly filling this thing with crap about me being bored. That has grown to be a tired subject.

"I'm bored so I'm going to write a boring blog about being bored."

Pretty shitty reading. Am I really bored that much? Yes, but I think people are probaly tired of hearing about it. That is, if anyone actually reads this thing. I'd estimate my readership at about 3-4 people. Which is pretty pathetic for something that is on the internet for millions of people around the world to read for free. But hey, it ain't that great of a blog, so I'd say 3-4 is pretty damn good.

That's all I can string together for today. Try not to loose faith in my blog.

Off Season Boredom

Saturday night. Could be a good time in a big city. Here in Jackson in the off-season, there ain't nothing going on. I'm spending my Saturday evening in my bathrobe, drinking SoCo and watching crap TV. I could go to a movie or a bar or something, but those things cost money, which I'm trying to save, since I'm not making as much when I only work like 3 days a week. At least I have a ressession-proof job, selling alcohol. People will always buy alcohol, even if its their last dime, people gotta drink. I'd say everyday some guy will come in with a sack full of change and count out the exact penny to get him a 40 of Hurricane Malt Liquor. We're living in hard times and I can't say I blame these guys. Livin' ain't cheap. Some of you might wonder if I feel bad selling booze to the same alcoholics every day. The answer is not at all. If I didn't sell it, some other broke ass ski bum would.

Whoa...sorry to change the subject, but I just felt my intelligence step down a notch. My brain is slowly decomposing as I'm writing this from the toxic rays spewed forth from my television. My typing is slowing down...and I'm having twoble spewing sertain worDS...brain go slow...me think less...TV...funny...gggglgllllllllbbwwwaaaa...

SNARGLE!

The Death of a Ski Season

The ski season is over. This has been my third season here in Jackson and the end of the ski season is always a strange time. It is a little depressing since a lot of people leave forever and you can't ski anymore for another 7 months. Every year at this time I start thinking maybe I should cut my hair, clean myself up, and get a real job with some sort of career aspirations. And I usually land some sort of job with career opportunities, but by the end of the summer I'm usually so sick of it, that I quit just in time to work at the ski resort again in order to get free skiing for another winter season. Basically the only real conclusion I can come to is that I love skiing, but I hate work. My job will never define me. I might end up getting a job that I can tolerate and make good money at, but it will only be a job to me. At the end of the day I need to be able to go home and be as weird as I want. Corporate America is not for me. And once the winter comes along the temptation will always be there to quit my job and ski all season. It really is that fun and once the season is over, I regret all the days I took off from skiing. I should have skiied like everyday this season, but, I didn't. Damn it!

So the only thing I know for sure right now about my future is that I'm not moving for at least another year. Skiing in Jackson is the shit and I have few aspirations beyond that. I'm already living my dream and I don't see why I should move on to anything else. Lots of people move to a big city and get a high paying career job, work lots of hours, make lots of money, and raise a nice family in the suburbs. That's not for me. I will probably raise a family, but it won't be in the suburbs of a city. And the way I look at it, in the end, anyone could die at any time, why waste your life making money for some huge corporation. Fuck that. I'd rather waste my life skiing in the mountains. I literally can't get enough of it. It just sucks that it is taken away from me every April. I'll be waiting here for you, Winter, ready to go get after it again next season!

A Website to Look At

Check out this sweet website for a few breif, but beautiful minutes of entertainment.

http://www.badpaintingsofbarackobama.com

It's funny.

Live Blog

Hi, I'm writing this blog live, from the ticket office, where I work. Right now its at the point in my day where I have to tell people to wait for a half-day ticket. We don't sell them until a specified time and most people I tell this to, don't believe me. Like this guy here, I'm making him wait until the exact second my computer clock rolls over to 12:20. He is hating me for it. People can't stand waiting even 5 minutes to save like 17 bucks. "5 minutes? Uhh...geeze, uh...just give me the full day." Also, I love shooting down discount requests.

"Any Triple A discounts?" No.
"How 'bout student discounts?" No.
"Any specials at all today?" No, sir. Its my job to make sure you pay full price.

Ok, back to work. Ahh..shit! I just spilled coffee all over the keyboard! Look what you made me do!

Race of Death

I entered the first ski race of my life this past weekend and for a short time I thought I might actually place in my division. In order to cement my place on the 1st place pedestal, I decided on the final day of competition to go for broke and go as fast as I could. Just so you know, this race course was down a large ditch, full of sharp banked turns and jumps, but I was feeling pretty fearless and confident that I could beat the other guys in my division. On my final run of the course I was two turns from the finish line, when I had a mandatory jump on a high banked turn. I realized at the last second that I was going way too fast. The jump threw me into the air, completely off balance. In my memory it plays back in slow motion. I go full tilt off the jump, I have the “Oh shit!” moment while floating in mid-air, my weight is too far back and I realize I’m gonna crash, hard. Then I smash into the snow, one ski flies off immediately, my knee cracks into my helmet clad skull, and my body tumbles down the steep bank of the race course. It turns out I was only temporarily stunned and I was actually quick to get up and get out of the way, due to the fear of being run over by the next racer’s skis. It was a pretty big blow-out. I had to collect my skis and walk to the finish, feeling completely dejected. Definitely not the way I wanted to end the race, with a DNF for my score (Did Not Finish). My brain was definitely rattled as well. I had a significant headache and trouble forming sentences the rest of the day.

“Me crash. Hurt bad. No go doctor. Me go home. Drink beer.”

Did I learn anything from such a grand catastrophe? Uh…only that I am invincible. I can be hurt, but not broken. I’ve gone through the logic in my mind and I’m pretty sure my bones are laced with adamantium, just like the fabled comic hero, Wolverine. So, I’m for sure going to enter the race again next year, this time with the understanding, that to win the race, you have to go fast, but you also have to not crash. At least it wasn’t some shitty spin-out crash that took me out. It was a full-tilt blow-out by a guy who had no idea what he was doing except that he was gonna go for the victory and ski as fast as physics allowed.

No Fear.

Remember those T-shirts? I used to think they were the coolest shirts you could own in middle school. I had a couple of them with football themes, a sport I never played in any kind of organized form. Now I think about those and realize that they were super gay. They may have tried to convey some sort of ethos to live by, but all the kids I knew just liked them ‘cause they were a status symbol. I definitely lived with a lot of fear back then. Fear of bullies, fear of physical confrontation, fear of being different. I remember making fun of the kids with the cheap rip-off T-shirts, such as Fear Nothing and other silly slogans. But really, what was the difference? It just shows you how stupid kids are and how going to public schools forces you to become a conformist in order to survive.

Rockin' the 'Stache!

Lately I have let my hair grow long and my mustache fill in thick. This is a look that was popular in the 70s, and now is making a comeback here in the, uh…what are we in now? The 00s? Or is it the aught’s? You know, old time talk for zero? Like, “Back in 19 aught 6, the President was Theodore Roosevelt.” Anyways I’m not sure if it is really popular or not, I just know that I like it, and I’m not changing it for a while. One thing though, is that I have noticed a difference in what people will say to me now that I have long hair and a ‘stache. Back when I had a straight forward conservative cut, most people thought I was a square and some sort of conforming bitch. Now that I’ve let it all hang out, I’ve noticed many people from the fringes of society have less inhibitions about approaching me for things less savory. Plus I work at a liquor store, where inhibition and hedonism begin anyways.

Me: “Hello, sir, do you need any help finding anything?”

Shady Looking Customer: “No thanks, man, but hey, do you guys sell any pipes here?”

Me: “Pipes? Uh…no, sir. We don’t have any pipes here. This is a liquor store.”

Shady Looking Customer: “Right, well, do you know where I could get one?”

Me: “Hmmm…no, not really. I don’t smoke pipes. Maybe a tobacco store?”

Shady Looking Customer: “No man, not a tobacco pipe. You know, one for that other stuff.”

Me: “Sorry, I’m terrible at guessing games; can you spell it out for me?”

Shady Looking Customer: “Getting’ high, man! Come on! Is there any where I can buy a pipe for some drugs, man?”

Me: “Ooohhhh…I got ya. Well sir, the crack epidemic ended here in early 90s, but I’m sure you could fashion some sort of drug smoking device out of an empty plastic pop bottle from our dumpster out back.”

I find it much more fun to look the way I do and act like a completely upstanding citizen. I know it catches some people off guard. I was routinely asking one guy if he needed a bag for his booze and he jokingly replied, “A bag? Of what? How much? You sellin’ weed?”

Realizing his retarded humor, I replied, “Weed? What’s weed? I just want to know if you need a paper bag for your purchase today, kind sir.”

“Nah, man, I was just fuckin’ with ya. You need to loosen up.”

Another point for the moustache! The 70s porn star look also comes off as completely creepy to many women, which is also fun. I’ll just be doing my job and ask a young lady if she needs any help finding anything. And she’ll start by glancing up at me and doing a double take, then saying, “Oh…uhhhh…no. No thanks, I’m fine.” At which point it is my duty to reply, in a low sultry tone, “Well, if you think of anything…I’ll be standing right over here watching you, so...uhh...just let me know, okay?” At which point they usually leave the store.

So, yeah, if you have the chance, I suggest growing a moustache and long hair at least for a few months, it’s pretty fun. Plus every time you look in the mirror it looks so damn cool!

Blogging for Blogs Sake

I've done a little tweaking to my blog. I realized it was sort of drab and boring in appearance, so I added a picture of a monkey at a typewriter. I think it works well. A monkey could probably write better blogs than most people, including me. I thought about maybe adding a real picture of me or where I live, but I couldn't resist the monkey. Plus, I don't want all you freaks out there to know who I really am, though if you are reading this, you probably know me anyways.

I think I'm gonna go skiing today, at least that's what I told myself this morning and here it is near noon and I haven't left yet. I feel bad for people who have to pay to ski. It really has become a millionaire's sport. I work at the resort so I ski for free, which I think is the only way to ski. I could not afford to ski here in Jackson if I had to buy lift tickets or even a season pass for that matter. A season pass is like 2 grand, which is ridiculous. I like to think of all the other stuff I could buy with 2 grand instead of the services of a chairlift. I could go on a badass vacation somewhere here in the U.S. for 2 grand.

I work at a liquor store and yesterday I was trying to focus on some "up-selling." So while I was working the cash register I would casually ask people if they wanted a little something extra to go along with whatever else they were buying. Someone would bring up a 12-pack of beer and i would ask, "Would you like a pint of whiskey to go with those beers?" This didn't work how I thought it would and most people just asked me, "Why?"

Uhhh....'cause it tastes good and it'll get you drunk.

I probably just asked the wrong people. You gotta scope out who you're dealing with. Mostly it's the same people everyday, so next time I'll save my little sales pitch for the hardcore alcoholics. "You know what goes great with a 40 of Old English? A pint of Dr. McGillicutty's Mentholmint Schnapps. How 'bout it?"

"Ahh...sure what the hell."

For anyone who watches the Simpsons, this is indeed inspired by Apu and his up-selling inquiry of, "Would you like some vodka with that?" And the customer goes, "Ahh...sure what the hell."

Funny. Unfortunately most people who come into a liquor store know what they want and what they can afford. Lots of people choose to buy pints of alcohol everyday instead of saving themselves some money and buying a fifth or a half-gallon. Maybe they need a more discreet small bottle for drinking at work or while driving. That's my guess at least. And it's not really a guess.

Which brings me to another curiosity of the job. I always ask people if they want a bag for their booze and some people like to think they are funny and say, "Nah...I'm gonna drink it on the way home. Just kidding." For some reason they think I care. I usually tell them to go for it. Especially since I've heard this joke many, many times.

Okay...I guess I gotta go skiing now.

Blog Obama

Today I was bored, so I started browsing random blogs here on Blogger. Sometimes you have to check out the competition, and yes, writing blogs is, indeed, very competitive. I have to say, most of the blogs out there bored me to tears. Well, not tears, but bored me enough to mix another drink. Blogger has a “Blogs of Note” section, which is populated mostly by blogs authored by middle aged people reminiscing about the old days or how great the new president is gonna be.

Obama. Not gonna lie, I didn’t vote this election. I was out of the country and getting an absentee ballot proved to be more of a chore than I was willing to put in for. But, if I would have voted, I probably would have voted for Obama. The other guy, (what’s his name now?) McCain. He was pretty scary, he looks like Skeletor, He-Man’s infamous arch-nemesis. I don’t vote for anyone who so closely resembles a super-villain.

Anyway, Obama is like a fucking rock star now. I think people are really expecting him to actually use some sort of divine magic to solve all of America’s problems. People are forgetting that he's still a politician and it ain’t gonna happen that easy. I’d be ecstatic if he somehow got all of the troops out of Iraq in four years, which I deem wishful thinking. First thing he’s doing is closing Guantanamo Bay, which doesn’t make that much sense to me. Ok, so he’s closing a military prison where terrorist suspects were kept without trial, a place that will forever be connected with the mismanagement of the war by the Bush presidency. But this is completely symbolic. If the U.S. government closes their main military prison, of course they are going to open another one. So it won’t be Guantanamo Bay where terrorist suspects are made to pose for naked hooded photos, it’ll be some other place. What’s the difference? To me it seems like a waste of resources. The military is already there, they have a badass prison set up, why close it? So we can pay to build a new one somewhere else with a different name? They should just rename it, something like, “America’s Badass Terrorist Prison in Cuba,” or maybe, “America’s Sunshine Prison Where Prisoners are Happy!” Or something else along those lines, I dunno, I’m not a pro spin doctor.

Ok, I’ve grown bored of this topic. Today when I was waiting for the bus, this weird dude was talking to everyone at the bus stop, but no one was really listening. He was just talking, and he happened to mention how he wanted to start snowboarding, but he wanted his own custom snowboard with a graphic of a zombie cowboy and a zombie bull on it. I couldn’t help but start laughing at the idea. Just looking at this guy I could tell he was never going to learn to snowboard but I think he actually had put some thought into this idea. But after thinking about it a little bit, that would be a pretty badass snowboard design. Most snowboards and skis have pretty gay graphics on them anyways, why not a sweet zombie cowboy riding a zombie bull. I’d buy it.

Econo-Blog

Every time I turn on the TV or look on the internet now all I hear or read is how the economy is going to shit and we’d all better hold on to our butts. Not to downplay the economic crisis our country and the world is in right now, but I’m pretty sick of hearing about it. Okay so jobs are no longer plentiful and the American automobile industry is going belly-up; but are these things really worth worrying about? Most responsible hard working Americans, if there are any of those left, would say yes. I for one am starting to think that the economic crisis is being blown way out of proportion by the media. Every time you turn on CNN they have another pundit prophet of doom saying how the economy is going to get way worse before it gets better. I’m not sure if an economic expert had high hopes about the coming years if he would even get any airtime. For some reason people only want to hear or read about it if it is bad news. Anybody who wants to get on TV or be taken seriously has to predict the worst possible outcome.

Maybe some people are thinking, well if there was any good news they would report it. Doubtful. Good news doesn’t get good TV ratings. It’s stupid, but true. I really don’t even like watching the news anymore because it all seems like sensationalized bullshit. Even sports news, which I used to enjoy, has become mostly full of gossip and banter that has nothing to do with actually playing sports. The sports media is more concerned with how well the team gets along off the field than how they play on the field. Who cares if some guy is everyone’s friend? If he’s good at sports isn’t he doing his job?

Yahoo is the worst. For some reason I have Yahoo as my homepage, so first thing I read everyday is snippets on what the new best city to live in is and where all the recession proof jobs are. I hope people aren’t really falling in for all this crap and freaking out; but they probably are. I’m glad I live in the middle of nowhere away from all the “normal” people. I can easily ignore things. Sure the economy here isn’t as good as it used to be, but I got a job. It ain’t that bad…yet.

If it gets any worse I know where I’m investing my money. Guns and ammo. If we’re all gonna be living on the streets you better be strapped and ready to handle yo’ biznaz! Actually I figure I’d hightail it back to Michigan and join my family in a compound in the woods upstate. We’d be armed to the teeth and no one would screw with us. Especially the government. What’s that? The Michigan Militia already does that stuff? Crap. Hmmm…well I guess they’ve been right all these years. Those crazy rednecks were on to something.