Flavor of Puke III

Seriously, had I know Flavor Flav was going to have a third episode of that repulsive show of his, I would have run his ass over when he parked in front on my house this summer. I mean really, how is it possible that "Flavor of Love" actually has a big enough audience to warrant a third season. Doesn't anyone else find this troubling?

All joking aside, what does it say about our society that this show is on its third season? I'll tell you what it says. It illustrates that average intelligence in this country is not a 100 i.q.... unless of course we consider that this less than random sample of women is just of lower intelligence (which is indicated by their simply agreeing to be on FOL 3). But this whole situation where women are COMPETING for Flavor Flav, I mean, its like a human rights violation.

Everyone on that show is a train wreck. Say what you want about Britney Spears, but she's light years ahead of those women. I mean, honestly, I don't care how much money Flavor Flav has, he is one of (if not the most) unattractive men I can possibly think of- and believe me, I've seen some pretty big messes myself. Ewwwwww... really, he's just gross. Come on people. Come on ladies! I feel like I need to call Amnesty. Ick.

Now My Body Is Starting To Quiver, And The Palms Of My Hands Getting Wet

I got no reason to doubt this, baby. Its' all a terrible mess.

There is only one other thing (snowboarding) I can think of, that gave me this feeling. The deep feeling of satisfaction that follows great anticipation. When I was a kid, I knew in my heart, that snowboarding would give me something that nothing else could replace. The day I first rode, I knew we would be together forever. But somehow, I've found something I think I love just as much.

An ATV, and it's bliss. Unadulterated bliss. Its beautiful. The ground beneath my wheels, speed awakening my mind, as I ride through a beautiful forest. The threat that only eminent physical danger can deliver. It tastes good, like satisfaction.

I first started riding quads in my Dad's hometown (yeah right stalkers). Perhaps it's my country heritage. But something about riding quads delivers what's been missing. The link that bridges my craziness to my sanity and connects me with the earth.

I ride in the country, the very same property where my dad was raised. A very redneck (is that p.c.??) man comes out and threatens me with his shotgun, because I'm trespassing on precious territory. My cousin's ATV gets caught on the barbwire. Every inch of this is rewarding. I floor my quad, I feel uneasy, but perfect. I'm gravitating over the land that my grandfather called home. It's beautiful, even the though there's cow dung, everywhere. But isn't that life???

I return home. Not to my home, but it's home. I inherited this. It's in my bones, my blood. I'm so thirsty for more. I just want you to understand the way Tom Petty understands. Unadulterated freedom. I take a deep breath.

Like the Mountains Miss the Snow

For the past 15 years, I've been riding RIDE snowboards. Perhaps because my first board was a RIDE, and due to my loyal aquarius nature, I have remained with RIDE. Up until now.

Lately, I have been in the market for a new snowboard. And while I am set in my ways (stubborn), I've had my eye on a Burton board. At first I was hesitant. This board was nothing like the board I was used to riding, but the sales clerk was so convincing, that after months of hesitation, I decided to go for it. Something about this particular board drew me in, and I decided it was worth the risk.

Putting all my trust into this Burton, I took it out for our first ride. I admit, that on this particular day, I was struggling with some personal stuff, debilitating my sight and judgment. But snowboarding sets me free, and I could not wait to feel my board carving through the most delicate powder, releasing my turmoil into the earth.

I drove to the mountains with anticipation, knowing my passion would settle my troubled mind. I needed this. I needed a change. There is something to be said about experience. It was time to bury the past and experience Burton's ride. As I looked at the aesthetic beauty of my new board, it was hard to imagine that I had resisted it for this long. This board was pure, unaffected.

I arrived at my destination. The smell of cool mountain air refreshed me from sleepless nights, and I began to feel the hunger I lost. I strapped in, and started down the mountain. The snow was powder, the wind was soft, the ride was perfect. I rode for hours without inhibition, forgetting every seasons' injuries (a couple of broken bones will really fuck up your ride for a while).

Evening came, and I felt tired and hungry. Satisfied, I decided to go home. That night, I slept, deeply. I dreamed about Mt. Hood, Breckenridge, and Mammoth. I dreamed about 360's, ollies, and tail rolls. It was delicious.