Kindred Spirits and Fickle Minds

Sorry for the delay in posting, my few but devoted readers. Yesterday was Gaper Day. I bitched out on last year's post, but I am determined not to repeat the lack of performance for 2012.

 It was cold, and a little wet, and I broke my old Kemper binding clean off my Mambo board, but I got drunk with friends, and I still got to go snowboarding so all in all I had a great Monday. My Tuesday was somewhat hungover, but not nearly as bad as my associate, Dave. Jules, I think the only person NOT dressed up in offensively retro ski gear, had never experienced a Gaper day. Indeed, one older skier saw all 150 of us and exclaimed "Who ARE you guys?!"

 This is why I'm here. It's all about the ski; the fun of the hill, and sharing the insanity with friends. We lost a lot of good people this winter as a community, and days like yesterday are the days I'll remember when I'm old and maybe too decrepit to ride 85 days a year. I may not be filling the bank account, but I'm truly happy. I know that the percentage of friends outside of Whistler that can honestly say that can't be higher than 10%.

 Speaking of people I get on with... I've known about Waiter Rant for a couple of years when I received his first book for Christmas, but I finally got around to checking out his blog, the one that started it all. I started at the very beginning, and as of now I'm at April 15th, 2008's entry. An anonymous writer in his late 30s, "Waiter" tells all the sordid stories that I know only too well. It's funny; the more I read, the more I realise how many idiosyncrasies I share with the protagonist:

 He serves tables, I tend bar.
A penchant for whisky, fancy words, red heads, and a good book.
A fantastic writer (hey, it's MY website. I'll say what I want!)
Prone to singledom infused minor bouts of depression, which he is all too happy to divulge with his readers.

 The list goes on.

Frankly, if you like my stuff, you'll LOVE his. You'll get a feel for the other side of the fence with respect to going out to dinner. If I get a chance, I'd love to buy this man a drink and give him a couple of stories of my own.

Finally, I'm watching the Billboard Awards, and I gotta say: seriously? Chris fucking Brown? He hit his woman - Rihanna, no less. He gets best R&B artist of the year? Do people not remember his past indescretions? I'm surprised he didn't thank his attorneys in his acceptance speech. I know I'm late to the party with this, but it just gets my ire up. Guys who beat their lady are weak and insecure, and there's no excuse for taking it out on anyone except a brick wall or the heavy bag at the gym. Fuck you, Brown. I honestly hope you read this. Go die painfully.

 Keep fighting the good fight, my friends.