Monday, January 30, 2012

Exes and Me: An Introspection

I wrote this the other day. I've discovered a new website entitled and I'm determined to get all up in that. So I sent this in, but I like it too much for it not to hit the Internet.

Exes and Me: An Introspection

Look, I’m a nice guy. Always have been, despite my hardest attempts at reversing this personality trait. That says something about society: why is it such a bad thing to be the White Knight, the guy that doesn’t cheat, the guy that will tell someone if they dropped a twenty.
I’m totally serious when I say that I have lost count of the girls I’ve met who are looking for a great guy, then when I offer myself to the holy Boyfriend altar for sacrifice, either they aren’t interested, or I’m the “friend”. And I don’t get it.
Once in a while it works, for a little bit at least, and it’s awesome! Talking to someone who just gets you, no awkward silences, and sex where you can explore, discover each other’s wants. Then it fizzles. And that sucks.
I rarely get close to a girl emotionally, thanks in partial to an erstwhile Australian girl calling me up early one November morning a couple years ago and telling me she doesn’t love me anymore, and maybe I should reconsider moving to Melbourne. (Which was awesome, by the way.)
So while the odd one night stand is always welcome, it’s uncommon that I progress it further than that. I live in a community where the girls are heavily outnumbered, many are bar-stars, and the rest are already taken. So when that special girl does cross paths with me, I really try hard not to screw things up. So when they inevitably do, my Facebook feed becomes a minefield. My mind runs a gauntlet every time I see “Possible-Love-Of-Your-Life is now friends with Some-Unknown-Dude-Who’s-Probably-Cooler-Than-You-Because-He’s-Talking-To-Her-And-You-Aren’t.” Is this her new guy, even though she told you she’s “not ready” or “too busy” or “looking for something different”?
I’m that guy. And I’m tired of hearing about all the assholes in town, and asking where the nice guys are that don’t smoke weed all day.
In economic terms, I’m a hot commodity. I’m oil in the Middle East, water in the desert, vodka Red Bull in those douchey clubs on that Jersey Shore show. I’m the long straight Tetris piece, the elusive MewTwo, the Stanley Cup. (Actually, maybe the Conn Smythe Trophy; I’m not rich, after all.)

So why is nobody buying stocks in Tall, Literary, and Handsome?

Answers on the back of a postcard.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Thoughts on Burke

Lately, there's been a lot of talk on the hockey front in regard to concussions, and while this certainly is an important topic of discussion, there's something more pressing to discuss.

This week marked the passing of a living legend, a pioneer in her field, and an incredible athlete. Sarah Burke was just a year older than I, and her sudden and unfortunate death yesterday has sent shockwaves through Whistler, and the skiing community at large. Last week, she was put into a medically induced coma after a particularly horrific crash in Salt Lake City, UT, and though doctor's were able to contain the ruptured vertebral artery, there was irreversible damage done to her brain. Had she survived, there is no question that she wouldn't be the same.
Granted, the circumstances were exceptional, competing in an event by Monster Energy. Nonetheless, it highlights the importance of safety on the hill. Yet today, after just a couple of runs on Blackcomb, I noticed the continuation of a particularly scary trend.


Seriously. It's all these d-bags in the park who think they're invincible. I wear a helmet all the time, a Sandbox helmet with a small brim. One time I was riding from my house to the chair and the damn thing flew off. Like, just lifted off my head. I need that damn strap. Never mind that this season I have sustained both major whiplash and a minor concussion (separate events). And I was wearing my helmet.

Everyone, it seems, has a helmet on the hill; not everyone is keen to fasten the strap. It's exactly the same as a seatbelt: it's there for a reason. Why not just get rid of it altogether? Oh right. "Sponsorship" stickers. Look, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you aren't that good. And if you were, you'd be playing safe.

You don't do it up because you don't fall? Alright, fuck you. You aren't trying hard enough. And rails hurt like a sonovabitch when you hit it with your head.

Hopefully, Sarah's passing will raise a lot of concerns for skiers and snowboarders. I would love to see a helmet mandatory WB, and fines for incorrect use. But hey, that's just me.

So long, Sarah. This town has lost one of its heroes... again.

Friday, January 6, 2012

Happy 2012, here's to the end of the world.

Well, what a Christmas holiday, or rather lack of. I have worked in one way or another since Dec. 21st, and now, JAnuary 6th, I have the night off. I really shouldn't do anything, as 1) I have friends from Vancouver heading up tomorrow looking to party, and 2) my pops gets here on Sunday for a week, and I'll need some money for that. But hey, I'm not going to meet exciting people in my living room!
Weather wise, La Nina is taking her sweet time... Just like a woman, to think it's totally fine to show up late to the party. But, slowly and surely, we're getting the snow. About time too; if I don't get into the steep stuff soon, I'm liable to really hurt myself by skiing recklessly. Since Christmas, I've sustained a minor concussion, severe whiplash, and today I shoulder checked a tree. To cut a long story short, I need some fucking powder.
Let's see. was voted Whistler's Best Website of 2011... Oh! And I wrote a Top Ten Albums of 2011 for so when that gets posted you should check that out. But I don't have it yet.

That's pretty much it.

Check out, and feed some people. While you learn new words. It's win win.

*Mic Drop*