Sunday, March 13, 2011

Shoulder Fail

Growler and the Hand of Rock

Old Death Whisper

Fellow retards and tardette

Bakoda...making the dope shit in 2003

I am da night rider

Winning in 2001

From now on, any time I even hear the words "cat" or "skiing" or "trip" I'm just gonna immediately grab the nearest baseball bat and smash my own collar bone. It'll end up being cheaper in the long run. Last night, in Grand Targhee, after a long day of driving, shredding, boozing, and rocking out to Old Death Whisper, somebody in our group had the brilliant idea to sled to the top of the mountain and shred down. After some towing issues and falling problems we made it up. It was absolutely breathtaking looking over the Targhee Valley (or whatever the fuck you call the giant plains before the Tetons). Down below we could see the base lodge, Tetonia, mormons. Then were off and I wiggle my way into a pitch black snowbank shoulder first. So instead of spending today whooping up and shooshing, then manana cat skiing, I'm now home with a bottle of Vicoden and either a bone chip or a rotator cuff blowout. If at first you don't succeed, winning might not be your thing.


  1. That's what I said as I locked my arm to my side for the painful slide down to the bottom.

  2. This is not a good update. PT Dr, Phy Ther. hlms. Paddle stengFH will be due sooooon....