A Bowl of Stupid

With the exception of a few well place ‘Frenchies’ here and there, I’ve never been particularly fond of the French to begin with.

Admittedly, I was never one of those rabid folks (i.e., dumbass Americans) who started referring to my french fries as ‘freedom fries’. However, I always found the air of superiority wafted out by the majority of the French — together with a considerable amount of body odor, as well — more than just a bit distasteful.

If it weren’t for their considerable history of promptly surrendering to any (and all) of their neighboring countries on the continent, perhaps that attitute may be justified. As it is, however, I have more respect for the guys working the late shift at the local 7-11. Until I meet a thousand more guys like these two great blokes in the Philippines, my opinion stands. Sorry.

That opinion now seems even more justified after the run in (pun intended) I had yesterday with 3 of the biggest kooks — all French — that I’ve ever met in my life. Three Frenchies were out in the water yesterday hooting and hollaring (perhaps they were trying to surrender to the Sri Lankans), and just getting in everyone’s way.

One of them sat right in front of me while I was up on a really nice wave, looking me in the eyes and doing nothin else to move or otherwise allow me to maintain my position on the wave. I had to ditch.

Another dropped in on me while I was up on waves, not once, not twice, but three times in only a 1 hour session. Fucker.

The third of the group (part ‘trois’ if you’re counting in French, which I doubt, because if you’re French, chances are you’re off looking for someone to surrender to) ran right into me while I was in the whitewater paddling away from him so he could ride his wave in peace. But instead of riding the wave, he turned right towards me before realizing there was something in his way. Upon reaching that conclusion, he ditched his board, kicking it right at my head (perhaps he thought it the best way to surrender). I moved just in time for it to hit me square in my right calf, which is now sporting a huge muscle bruise.

No apologies, no nothing. He just paddled back out. Nice. Three more reasons for me to go out for some ‘freedom fries.’

Post script: My foot is now pretty well healed up, with the exception of the 1 or 2 remaining smaller spikes that are now poppin out randoming like zits on the face of a rabid Hannah Montana fan. Thanks to all for the concern (read: horror).

And in response to Jayne’s crazy question as to what body part I will injure next for my rapt (read: cold and bored) audience, I now have both an answer and a reason why: my right calf, and because some French kook with a surfboard ran into me out in the surf.

Given my current situation — between careers, waiting to hear back on a very promising job opportunity, just returning from a 3 day snowboarding trip to Lake Tahoe, and at a loss for good writing material — I am, of course, going to do what anyone in my situation would do:

I’m going surfing for 4 days in Puerto Rico over the weekend. We leave tomorrow, and if the following surf report is any indication, we should have spaghetti arms by noon on Monday.

THURSDAY: 2-3’+ becoming 5-6’ N swell for the N coast. Rincon is 1-2’+ becoming 5-6’ as N swell rises. Plus sets are likely late in the day at the top spots. Winds are ESE/E 11-16kts.

FRIDAY: 4-5’ N swell. Winds are ESE 6-11kts.

SATURDAY: 3-4’ ENE trade/N swell mix for the N coast. 2-3’ N swell for Rincon. Winds are ESE/E 8-13kts.

SUNDAY: 4-5’ becoming 5-6’+ N swell. Winds are E 10-15kts.

EXTENDED FORECAST OUTLOOK: Frontal activity off of the US East Coast is setting up a steady run of fun surf for the island. The N coast will see the largest surf from trade swell/background swell combo. A reinforcing shot of swell picks up early Thursday. This hold steady into Friday before coming down a notch for Saturday. By Sunday another reinforcing shot of N swell is expected. This swell holds steady Monday and Tuesday while rotating more NE by Tuesday.

This is a picture of the reef right out back of my friend’s house off of Rincon, where we will be doing the most damage this weekend. It goes off like a damn surf-machine.

Mr. Owl? How many complimentary cocktails does it take to get to the center of a snowboarding trip to Tahoe?

For anyone keeping score, I made it out of Lake Tahoe alive. And I had an awesome time … from what I remember.

There was some fantastic snowboarding, I had some really good food, it was nice to be back in California, and, oh yeah, I won US$500.00 in blackjack – so the trip almost paid for itself.

God, I love this country (and by “this country,” I mean the “United States” – not Miami).

Lake Tahoe Trip, Day One Tally:

Number of miles driven in single three (3) hour period: 196

Number of “Venti” Starbucks coffees consumed in single three (3) hour period: Three (3)

Average heartrate in single three (3) hour period: 1200 bpm

CD’s purchased (new favorite CD): One (The Shins; “Wincing The Night Away”)

Number of ski resorts ridden: One (Heavenly)

Number of hours on slopes: 3.5

Weather conditions: Excellent

New snow In last seven (7) days: 90 inches

Temperature: 35-42 degrees (F)

Number of trees collided with: 1

Number of significant bruises: 1 (leg)

Number of broken bones: 0

Amount of money spent on all-you-can-eat seafood buffet: US$37.50

Amount of discomfort my digestive system is now enduring: Significant

Amount of money lost at Harrahs casino playing craps: US$160

Amount of money won at Harrahs casino playing blackjack: US$100

Number of complimentary cocktails consumed while gambling at Harrahs casino: Unknown.

Caveat: Once again, I’m just guessing. I’m pretty drunk right now.

I wasn’t going to post any more videos today in lieu of writing substantive content, but in light of my impending snowboarding trip to Lake Tahoe, I figured this clip would be appropriate. Indeed, this particular video is especially relevant given my penchant for damaging various body parts. Moreover, as can be attested to by my friends, I have been injured snowboarding in the past.

Before I left California 7 years ago, I suffered a relatively minor injury while attempting to snowboard down that insane mountain John Cusack tried to ski down in Better Off Dead (“Do you have any idea of the street value of this mountain?? It’s pure snow!!”). At the time, I was about 20 pounds heavier than I now am, which tends to make any “mis-calculated” landings all the more treacherous as the added weight exerts much more stress on the body part(s) upon which it lands.

In this particular case, I landed, as usual, on my ass) — well, my tailbone, to be precise. Although it was fairly painful, I thought nothing of the injury; mentally tacking it onto the expansive list of my various other injuries. However, after about a week or so, the swelling on my tailbone had continued to grow and was pushing against my spine and internal organs.

What had apparently happened is that my fall had caused a contusion in the skin around my tailbone. This is not typically an issue, as broken blood vessels tend to drain (and coagulate) in the surrounding skin, thus causing “black and blue” marks. However, in this case, the layers of skin themselves had separated and the blood was not draining/coagulating in the skin, but instead filling the gap between those layers, causing it the area to swell like a water balloon.

The E.R. doctor was, quite possibly, on loan from “Doctors Without Borders” to the only Hospital in the small town where I was living. Upon diagnosing the problem, he felt the need to drain the blood from my spinal area with a really, really big fucking needle. He also wanted to treat me for malaria, but that’s neither here nor there.

Apparently, the pressure from the blood caused the needle’s reservoir to fill faster than the doctor anticipated. This resulted in the doctor echoing my rock-falling sentiments. Needless to say, hearing the words “Oh Shit!” spilling from the lips of the E.R. doctor who has an extremely long needle sticking into the base of your spine is not the most comforting feeling in the world.

The doctor, apparently not being accustomed to the sight of blood, was shocked at the geyser he had made of my lower back. God, how I love small town doctors. I’m just glad the kid didn’t faint.

No harm, no foul. It was a minor, albeit fairly disgusting, episode. In retrospect, at least.

On that note, here’s the snowboarding clip. And trust us, it’s a really safe sport.

See you guys when — and if — I get back.

(via Ursi’s Blog and Yes But No But Yes)

My business here in San Francisco concluded (hopefully, only briefly), my schedule is now open for the remainder of this week.

In addition, in order to maintain the lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed, I liquidated much of my stocks and other investments several weeks ago. As a result, after yesterday’s bloodbath on Wall Street, I am ironically one of the few people I know who can still afford both a coffee and a donut without having to panhandle for spare change beforehand — for the next few weeks, at least.

That being said, I am taking the advise of my good friends, TK over at Uncooked Meat, and Chez at Deus Ex Malcontent.

Allow me to explain.

For anyone following, both TK and Chez have, over what seems to be the past several decades, been discussing the horrible cold and snow that has been plaguing the Boston and New York metro areas, respectively. Therefore, in an attempt to bond with my blogging brothers in arms, I will be voluntarily subjecting myself to the same kind of weather conditions of which they have been complaining.

I’m going snowboarding in Lake Tahoe for the next 3 days.

Much love, my brothas. Much love.