The Kjaorn Supremacy

Whip your hair...

Delving deep into my mind's eye in an attempt to paint a picture of the type of person who might push an '85 Volkwagon Cabriolet, I picture a youthful and free-spirited young woman who probably rocks leg warmers and a side ponytail. She listens to Bon Jovi cranked to 11 as she rolls top down through her local streets and aves. BUT, dear friends, this is hardly the reality - as I learned yesterday.

While approaching a stop sign on my way to the local Blockbuster I happened upon one of the finer existing examples of a mid 80's Volkswagen Golf Cabriolet. As I rolled to a stop I noticed the 40 something, mullet rocking, burnout looking at me in his rearview. I stared back, and began a telepathic dialogue with him that went something like this:

Me: Hey, sweet Cabrio, bro.

40 something burnout: Shes my baby. Bought her brand spankin' new off the show room floor back in '85.

Me: That was kinda the pinnacle of your life, huh?

40 something burnout: Yeah.

Me: Sorry. 

My Gift To You, World

PUSH PLAY! DO IT! Let's set the mood, friends. Let's make it sexy. Kick off yer shoes. Take off that blouse. Dim the lights if you'd like...

 

Only moments ago, after lovingingly cleansing my body (with extra special attention paid to my genital region, and more specifically, my penis) I stepped out of the shower, dripping wet and reaching for a towel WHEN in my periphery I caught a glimpse of what many, if not most, would consider to be the best looking man of all-time. OF ALL TIME! I was looking in the mirror, ya'll. It was me. 

Anyways, that's ONLY HALF of my revealing revelation of revelous revelry. I have no idea what that means. So, after briefly getting lost in my own eyes, I, as per usual, gave my mustachio a quick part when I realized that it's basically a ribbon, or a bow, a fucking bow, if you will? that you grow on your face. It's gift wrap for your god damned face! What I'm trying to say is, simply, and in essence, that my face is basically like a present to all of mankind. A neatly groomed, drop-dead handsome present for the whole wide fucking world. 

Do I consider myself a philanthropist of sorts, well - yes. Absolutely. It's a lot of work, kiddos. But the smiles I put on yer faces time and time again make it all worth the while.

Enjoy it, errybody. Enjoy it hard. And 4eva.

That's all.

I love you.

Jake's Hella Awesome Sauce...

Today I sent my stuff off to Goodby, which triggered a response email which asked:

If you had an opportunity to create/start whatever you wanted and were given 1 million dollars and 6 months what would this thing be and how would you go about making it happen?

This is what came out. Pretty sure they'll think I'm a lunatic, but it was pretty fun.

I'd buy a little farm. I'd grow hella tasty veggies, like tomatoes and onions and habaneros and cilantro and garlic, and other secret ingredients that aren't really any of your business. And with those veggies I'd make the greatest salsa the world has ever tasted. Ever. And I would call it "Jake's Super Awesome Sauce." Or, "Jake's Hella Awesome Sauce." Or something like that. Hella. I probably need to work on the name. I'd bottle it up proper, and sell it from my salsa truck, to start. It would be just like an ice cream truck, but it would play something spicy and awesome - just like my salsa. It would probably play salsa music, in fact, but like salsa music remixed by Tiesto 'cause even his name sounds pretty spicy. And the kids would all come a runnin' when they heard it and I would sell 'em the salsas, which would come with free high-5's. They'd call me Papa Jacobeo. And I'd grow a big, majestic mustache just like Jason Schwartzman's in the Darjeeling Limited. And then I'd figure out a way to put it on a stick, the salsa, not the stache, because everybody's always getting super stoked on stuff that comes on sticks. It wouldn't be long before I had the entire salsa market cornered. And I'd have like 7 or 8 salsa trucks or something. And even Pace Picante Sauce wouldn't know what hit 'em, and they'd be all like, "Mother fucker!" 'Cause my sauce was sooo much better than theirs. And then with my profits I would build a super bitchin' tree house, and live in it for the rest of my days with my wife, Zooey Deschanel, whom I would seduce with my super awesome sauce and mustache. Duh. And then we would have bunches of babies to help make the salsas and drive the trucks, and stuff. Unless, of course, they wanted to pursue their own dreams, like being professional Marine Biologists, or something - because in that case Zooey and I would be mad supportive 'cause we're just pretty cool like that. And we'd just be as happy as clams for 4-eva and eva. Or something like that. And I might just do that anyways, if this whole copywriting thing doesn't pan out. I love you.

GAY PRIDE!

It's gay pride week or month or something here in LA, and more specifically here in W. Hollywood - which is the mecca for hot guy on guy action. It's insane down here. Try and imagine the gayest thing you can think of and then multiply that by 47, carry the 1 and then square it. Yeah, man. Ish is off the hinges. You've never seen so many pink polos with the collars popped in your entire life than right here and right now. As I sit here and write this little ditty hot techno beats are blowing in my window with the cool Santa Ana winds from the huge celebration going down just up the street. If it's not hitting at at least 150 bpm, forget about it. I'm not sure I'm going to ever be able to sleep again without techno bumpin' and police sirens in the background after laying my head here in W. Holly for the last few months. I figured since this weekend is the Pride Celebration I would share my gayest story from my time here so far. Here goes...

If you're not down with the get down let me get you up to speed. I am currently renting a living room from a bi dude named JC. He's kind of a weird cat, but a good dude nonetheless. We share the apartment with another dude, Christopher, who also loves the cock. He's a cool cat too actually. Funny dude - always calling his boyfriend and JC fags. It's pretty hilarious, trust. So here I am in the heart of the gay capital of the world living with 2 gay guys - it's been different, but not in a bad way mind you. Not at all. Just different from what I've experienced in my life till now. I know people like to pretend that Eugene is some thriving cultural melting pot, and teeming with diversity, but come on, look around - It's white people on top of white people. There's not a place in the World where you will see more "Love Sees No Color" tee shirts, and yet where you can go days without seeing a single black man. Eugene is a hot spot for hippies and that's it, but I digress. Back to the story, my story, my gay, gay story.

Two weekends ago I was chillin' on my bed reading when JC was like, "Hey Jake! We're having a little pool party! You should totally come down!"

I wasn't too stoked on the idea because, why would I be? Way too many dudes in really small shorts. I'm just not trying to kick it with hella dudes in Speedos, ever - regardless of race, religion or creed and etc. It's just not my idea of a good time, so I politely declined, and continued to dig into my book. However, JC would not take no for an answer and continued to encourage me to come down, and finally I agreed. I had $1.18 in my checking account at the time and figured, fuck it, at least I can get my grub on, so I headed down to the pool. Upon arrival I was met with just about exactly what I had expected - about 15 dudes huddled in and around the pool and all in Speedos or something very similar. The stuff dreams are made of, that is, if you happen to be Ricky Martin. So I roll up in there and am immediately eye fucked by at least half of these dudes like, "Who's this fresh piece of man meat." Ha. For real though, not a minute after walking up this guy says to me, "Heeeeey! Who are you???"

Before I could even say a word JC blurts out, "He's straight. Don't bother."

So instead of shaking his fist at the heavens for making this fine piece of A a fan of the ladies he says, "Oh. I don't mind. I don't mind at all! You're cute!"

"Uh, thanks," I responded.

"What are you up to tonight? Wanna come over?"

"No thanks. I think I'm gonna chill."

"Okay, well you can come over anytime. I'll leave my door open for you!"

"Uh, okay. I wouldn't hold your breath."

So that was a little uncomfortable, but he was a funny dude and was mostly just messing around, as was I. So I went ahead and hooked up a fat plate of bbq and a tall glass of Kool-Aid. Believe it or not shit was delicious. Smoked ribs, burgers, sausages (obviously), lobster mac and cheese, chips, salsa, Kool-Aid, and that fucking Kool-Aid was the finest god damn glass of purple I've had this side of Papa's Soul Food Kitchen. Shit was that ill man. Word bond to my mother, man. So as I finished my food and tasty cup of purple, and was about to leave when the gentleman with the man crush continued, "But seriously, you should totally come over sometime. I know you said you don't want to, but I'm going to leave my door open just in case you change your mind."

I just laughed. "It's nothing against you, it's just that I love the titties and vagina. I just do. I'm sorry."

What happened next I will never forget for as long as I live, but first a commercial break... This dude then brought his hand up to his man boob, his moob and gave it a little flick and said, "I got titties!" He then looked up into my eyes, right into my eyes, and with no hesitation says, "And I PROMISE you that my hole is WAY tighter!"

I shit you not. Word for fucking word. I can only imagine the look on my face at that moment in time. Shock. Disbelief. Wow. Is this what it's like to be a mama? Vulgar come-ons and the like? Personally I'm not that forward with the ladies, but I'm thinking there are probably a lot of dudes that are. If so, I'm thoroughly sorry because that shit was traumatic. Makes for a good story though I guess.

Love you.

Your Extraordinary Mind...

Stumbled on this yesterday and thought it was just so damn darling. Not sure what romantic comedy this asshole is living in, but it's a sweet sentiment anyways. Maybe I've just been hardened on these filthy LA streets and aves. It's hard out here for a pimp, mang. Also, I would argue it's missing a crucial caveat.

 

*Does NOT apply to Los Angeles, CA and surrounding areas

Hey! Give me my privacy back, bro...

I'm about to fuck you up with some truth. Nobody gives a shit about you. Sorry, it's sad but true. Nobody cares that your favorite quote is some dumb shit from Anchorman. Guess what else? Nobody cares that you thought Tropic Thunder was effin' hillarious. P.S. That movie is not funny. It's fucking stupid. I know what you're thinking, but Tom Cruise was like all fat and dancing and stuff. Nope. Still dumb. Guess what else? Nobody gives a shit that you totally adore scrap booking. You listen to The Novemberists. Sweet. Nobody cares. You went to Cancun for Spring break and did some beer bongs? Awesome. You just became a fan of Goose Shits? Uh, ok. Titties. You found an abandoned penguin? Fuck yer face. Nobody cares.

You know who really doesn't care? Mark Zuckerberg. You know why? Because he's a 25 year-old bro that is worth 4 billion dollars. You know what Mark Zuckerberg is doing right now? A line of coke off of some super hot stripper's labia. You know what he's going to do after that? He's going to take a huge bong ripper out of his diamond encrusted golden bong. Know what he's gonna do after that? He's going to invite over some supermodels for a gang bang, and Hot Carl 'em when they crash out on his Siberian Tiger skin rug just 'cause he fuckin' can and he thinks that shit is hilarious. He's worth 4 fucking billion dollars. He can do whatever he wants, and I can assure you he's not creeping on your stupid Facebook messages about the frat party you got drunk at and blew 4 bros. Don't worry - nobody's ever going to know. Well, except Jesus. Well, and maybe Santa Clause. He knows fucking everything. Fat prick. Matter of fact, that's who we need to be worrying about. Fucking creeper Clause. He's probably sitting on the toilet right now rubbing one out while he's watching you sitting on the toilet rubbing one out while you're reading my dumb blog. Sick, sick fucks. Both of you.

What's the big conspiracy theory anyways? Facebook is going to sell everybody's super interesting profile info to marketers/advertisers. Guess what? I'm an advertiser guy, and I don't give a shit that you heart Glee and have yer girlfriends over every Tuesday and pop popcorn in yer p.j.'s and giggle yer titties off 'cause it's like the hottest shit on television.

It's all entirely laughable, and you know what? What if Facebook does give up everybody's info to some 3rd Party shitbirds? What can they do with this garbage? There are 500 million people on Facebook. 500 fucking million. You couldn't possibly be more anonymous than 1 in 500,000,000. 8 zeros kids. Fuckin' 8 of 'em.

Don't be a dumb shit. Don't put yer Social Security number on your Facebook and you'll be straight. I promise you. Hope you can sleep at night now. If not, come on over and we can build a blanket fort and have a tickle fight. Maybe mom will make us some hot chocolates. The kind with the darling little marshmallows. Mmmm. Tasty. Mallows.

Peace. Love. And Seahorses 4 mutha lickin' eva!!!

Sorry for all the eff bombs, ma.

Love you.

DID YOU USE MY LOOFAH?

Living in a new place can be scary. New people. A new environment, and etc, but that stuff doesn't freak me out too much. I fancy myself pretty versatile in being able to adapt to many kinds of people, environments and situations.

The truth is, the most frightening part of my day is when I step into the shower and look down at my loofah. Yeah, I use a loofah and I dig it, so up yours. My skin is silky as fuck.

A loofah isn't inherently scary. They don't have teeth, or a meth habit and a six-shooter, or beady little eyes and a pencil mustache. What scares me, terrifies me about my loofah is the thought of my roommate lathering up with it. You see, my roommate doesn't have a loofah. Fuck, maybe he's never even experienced the joy of scrubbing up with one. Seems like something you'd want to try at least once, right? But you don't want to buy one without testing the waters - you want to take that spongey little morsel for a test drive first. Every morning I'm rattled with this thought. I examine my loofah thoroughly for stray hairs and the like, and give it a quick sniff to make sure it still smells of my essence. I always end up using it anyways because it's hard to imagine anybody would have the audacity to use another mans loofah, but you never know. My roommate is a strange cat.

And what do you say if you do suspect someone has used your loofah? Hey, so I was wondering if you've, uh, used my loofah because I gave it a sniff this morning and something wasn't quite right? Or do you just lose your shit and be all like, Hey homes, if you touch my god damn loofah again I'm gonna kick you in your fuckin' tits you fuckin' shit bird! Do you simply place the suspect loofah in the middle of their bedroom floor and drop an accompanying duece next to it for good measure? I really don't know? Enlighten me friends.

Don't even get me started on my tooth brush. Fuck. The horror.

I love you.

IT'S THE CITY I LIVE IN, THE CITY OF ANGELS...

Hey Mom,

LA is great! I'm having the bestest time ever and the truth is there's no place I'd rather be. The sun is always a shinin' and there are bunches of pretty girls as far as the eye can see. I'm thinking I'll start working on getting you some grand kids real soon. Well, I'd actually like to practice making 'em a little more to make sure I can make you a really, really good one, so don't get too excited just yet.

Work is great. The people are totally tubular (I'm trying to pick up on the local lingo). They're all very creative, smart and super nice folks. On Friday I got to experience my very first FREE FOOD FRIDAY and it was great! There were hamburgers and hot dogs and chips and dips and beers (don't worry I only had 3). It was all very tasty. We all sat out in the sun and ate and drank and talked and had a very swell time. I pitched some ideas the other day too, and my boss really seemed to like one of 'em. I'm hoping to do some really great stuff here, mom. It's really very exciting.

I found a place to live too! It's in West Hollywood and it's pretty nice actually. I haven't even got shanked once, and as a matter of fact all the guys around here are exceptionally kind. There's this club right down the road and it's always jam packed full of guys just having the best time ever. Every time I walk by it seems someone always says, hey handsome, wanna party? I normally just tell them that I appreciate the kind offer, but I'm trying to be frugal. One time a guy even complimented me on my behind, which was very nice since I've been feeling awful self-conscious with all the super skinny and tanned folks around here. It was a pleasant surprise to learn that people in West Hollywood have an accent too. I had no idea! They all sound very enthusiastic all the time - kinda like Richard Simmons, and they call everybody girlfriend and think everything is just fabulous. It's all very good fun.

The apartment is nice. We have a deck out back with a BBQ and a hammock and the time just flies when I'm back there reading and getting some sun on my titties. It's really great. It's all so very exciting.

Well, I think that's about all for now, but I'll be sure to write again soon and often. I hope life is treating you handsomely as well, mom. Take care.

Love always. Your son,

Jake

Today Only on The Kjaorn Supremacy

You can bedazzle the ish out my site. Get this mutha shinin' like a cot damn Ed Hardy tee. Unicorns fuckin' galore! Pretty colors, rainbows, glitter and the like. If it doesn't look like a My Little Pony skeet, skeet, skeeted all over this mutha licka - you ain't doin it right.

Hit the button below to cornify it. More like Kjaornify. ZING! I love you. Bye-bye.

No way, crack is awesome for you!

Nate Bloch is funny.

Dear Zooey Deschanel...

Please stop dancing or I will be forced to fall out of love with you. That's all.

Love always,

Jake

I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Zooey. Zooey! Come on? I love you. I fuckin' love you! Let's just run away together? Forget about all this silliness? No? NO? Up yours Zooey Deschanel. Up yours! I'm sorry. Sorry, okay? I love you.

Seahorses 4eva. I'm an idiot. Bye-bye.

GET YOUR TICKETS FOR THE RIOTS OF SPRING

This is going down in a week, kids. Cop those tickets before they're sold up. Do it.

The birds are a singin' and the flowers are a bloomin' folks. Spring is just about upon us, and in their second bout of this young season our Emerald City's finest will be lacing 'em up once again for the Riots of Spring.

The young and zealous bunch that is the Church of Sk8in will be mixin' it up with the accomplished and always captivating Flat Track Furies in a face-off that is sure to swell your dopamine levels. The delicious Ninkasi brews will assist in gettin' those lobes poppin' off as well. Be sure to watch for Sk8in star Pow Wow to dawn the jammer cap and put some big points on the board. For the Furies, look for veteran jammer Darrah-lict to gracefully spring through the pack and make some big points of her own. This bout will be a cat fight till the last whistle. Believe it.

In the headliner Emerald City's 2009 League Champion Andromedolls will lock horns with Idaho's own Treasure Valley Roller Girls in a blitzkrieg for bragging rights. Look for the Dolls to control the pack while star jammers Bullet Brains and crowd favorite Sirius Smack overwhelm the Boise girl's defense. Don't sleep on those potato fed mamas from Idaho though, they'll be looking to raise pulses in this one, so keep your eyes glued.

Scantily clad mamas. Beers. Tunes. Nuf said. Go buy some tickets, dummy. Lot of 'em.

It's all goin' down Saturday March 27th @ 6, so get those calenders marked.

I love you

Applebottom Jeans, Boots with the Fur...

If you're a MAN and you're rockin' pockets that look anything like these - immediately pull a man card out of one of those fruity ass fuckin' pockets and burn that shit because you aren't gettin' it back. Not fucking EVER. NEVER. There is no redemption. None. Period.

And next time you go to cop some hot new denim ask yourself this, could I see Clint Eastwood rocking these shits? If the answer is no, keep movin'.

If you're a lady it's a different story. Feel free to rock 'em, although, personally, I'd rather see that ass in some Seven Jeans, but that's just me.

I love you.

Happy Valentines Day

My dearest Jake,

You are soo good looking
And brilliant
And funny
And good looking.

I can't think of a single person I would rather share this romantical day with than you. You're amazing, and also really good looking.

Be my Valentine?

Love always,

Jake

P.S. That H.J. you gave me the other day was effin magical.

In case you're wondering, I totally accepted.

Scattered Aesthetics...

I'm feelin' this mission statement:

OUR MOTIVE:

We are not one thing. We are everything. We're the masses and the opened minded. Our bodies in many respects have been despoiled. We're a million little pieces and we're giving ourselves to you. This is all practice for something bigger. We're constantly rollin' with the punches and jivin' at bars and parties. Like most people, we're the seekers, the movers, the malcontent, and at times we're also stupid hell-raisers. We are those you meet that can change you, sometimes so profoundly that we're not the same afterward. We are the Periodical Erotic Frenzy©, The porn hidden under your mattress. We're what your brain lusts for when its not inspired. We're the lounge lizards in the back of the bar or the party crew all up in your face. We are the mad. We are the right words to tickle your fancy. We are the eye fuck and the insightful youth. We are the wolf's teeth, and the sheep's lips. We are dreamers of the day and we aren't afraid to dream with our eyes open. We are the morbid. The crude. The funny. The tomboys. The nerds. The pot heads. The steez hunters. The movie quoters. The music seekers. And everything else in between. We are SCATTERED AESTHETICS© and we’re just warming up.

Peep the site here: Scattered Aesthetics

DogFunk.com: Beater Vision

Be on the lookout for Beater Vision Part Mutha Flippin' Deux starring yours truly. Should be epic.

I love you.

Emerald City's finest back in action...

The skates have been dusted off, the fishnets have come out of the closet and the ladies of the Emerald City are once again ready to put on the sexiest, fastest and most brutal show on 8 wheels.

This bout will put last seasons undefeated league champs The Andromedolls against the young and hungry Church of Sk8in in a match that is sure to please. Also on the docket is the always exciting Flat Track Furies, who after losing last years championship bout in overtime, have something to prove. Look for them to be skating as amazing as ever against the Bad Reputations of the Terminal City.

As usual, the Ninkasi will be on tap and delicious as ever. The tunes will be cranked to fuckin' 10! And the ladies, oh the ladies. That's all I'm gonna say. Be there or be square, and stuff.

Get your tickets here: Brown Paper Tickets.

And if you have yet to join the Sirious Smack Fan Club, what the eff are you waiting for? Check it out: Sirious Smack Fan Club. She's totally effin radical.

Love you.

YO! 8MILELIFE

This video is super rad too. Well, if you're into crazy powder slaying, cliff droppin', tail-tappyin', buttery-ass double-cork throwing shredtasticness. The soundtrack is legit as well. I like your butt, wimp. Call me sometime.

YO! 8MILELIFE from Randy on Vimeo.

Love you.

Hitler discovers truth about Banana Tech Reverse Camber Snowboards...

Banana Tech is so hot right now! I've actually demoed a couple reverse camber boards this year, and haven't been super impressed.This video is hilarious! Thanks for the heads up Gary Knight. Enjoy friends.

I love you.

HOLY FUCKING CHRIST!

My head just exploded. Be careful kids. The amount of awesomeness you are about to experience is not healthy.

The dudes are Rad Omen. The video is Rad Anthem. The site is http://radomen.com/

Prepare for awesome. You're welcome.

RAD OMEN - "Rad Anthem" from Nicholaus Goossen on Vimeo.

Emerald City Roller Girls: Inaugural Brawl

Hooray for the roller derby! Oh yeah, it's that time of year again, folks. The skates have been dusted off, the fishnets have come out of the closet and the ladies of the Emerald City are once again ready to put on the sexiest, fastest and most brutal show on 8 wheels.

This bout will put last seasons undefeated league champs The Andromedolls against the young and hungry Church of Sk8in in a match that is sure to please. Also on the docket is the always exciting Flat Track Furies, who after losing last years championship bout in overtime, have something to prove. Look for them to be skating as amazing as ever against the Bad Reputations of the Terminal City.

As usual, the Ninkasi will be on tap and delicious as ever. The tunes will be cranked to fuckin' 10! And the ladies, oh the ladies. That's all I'm gonna say. Be there or be square, and stuff.

Get your tickets here: Brown Paper Tickets.

And if you have yet to join the Sirious Smack Fan Club, what the eff are you waiting for? Check it out: Sirious Smack Fan Club. She's totally effin rad.

Love you.

Dear Fox News...

PLEASE STOP!

This is fucking ridiculous. Buddhism sucks? You want Tiger to find Jesus? Really? Come on. Just report the fucking news.

Top 5: In The Snow

1. It. I've never actually made sweet, sweet love in the snow, but it is typically the funnest thing to do in most situations.

2. Snowboarding. Duh.

3. Getting sideways in the whip. Can't hardly beat doing cookies in a snow covered parking lot.

4. Sledding. Multiply the fun with a sixer of your finest local brews. Ninkasi really needs to get a brewery down here in the SLC. Winter, make it happen!

5. Snow ball fight. I love a good snow ball fight. Watch out for your boy. My cannon is comparable to Raul Mondesi in his prime. Believe it.

Honorable Mention: Build an igloo. Haven't done this yet. Want to fuckin' bad!

So friends, come on over. We can make most of this list happen in a day. If you don't want to do it in my igloo, that's cool I guess, but say you'll consider it? Say it...

Love you.

Crazy Carpenters...

As a former construction worker I find these to be pretty funny. There's been a few times I wish I would've had a camera on the job site to capture my displays of awesomeness. I got a few tricks up my sleeve, believe it.

Tape Measure Awesomeness:

Big Steve:


Love you.

Powder & Rails w/ Noah Salasnek 2 of 2

Lovin' Powder & Rails. Old school rippers. Learn about it.

Merry Christmas...

to you and yours. Love you.

Visiting the past without a DeLorean. . .

I'm something like a modern day Marty McFly (minus the Oedipus Complex). Mosly 'cause I'm soo fly, but also cause I like to visit the past from time to time. Reminisce a little. Have a cup of tea and a good cry. Ya know?

I was perusing through one of my beat-up ol' Field Notes and found a conversation I had with my sister 2 years ago TODAY! That's right.

This is that conversation:

"You're an asshole, and I'm not getting you a Christmas present!" Christine volleyed.

"See if I care. I don't want your shitty Christmas present. Christmas isn't about fucking presents! It's about Jesus. . . and the fact of the matter is. . . I don't give a shit about him either, so fuck Christmas, fuck Jesus and fuck you!" I returned for the cross-court winner. Game. Set. Match, biaaaatch!

How do I feel about Christmas 2 years later? About the same actually; however, I do really dig mistletoe? Who wants to French kiss? Anybody?

Merry Christmas friends.

Love you.

I Just Want My Childhood Back

I want this tee shirt. Well, and my childhood back.

The McKenzie gets PWNNNED!

I've played sports since I could crawl. All of 'em. These days I lean toward the action or extreme sports variety. Why? Beating, dominating other people, humans, it's too easy. How many times can I take some hooper to the rack and be all like, "I broke ya ankles!"? I mean, it's fun but I feel like a broken record sometimes. These days I need to dominate a landscape--a whole fucking eco-system. Sunday I took on the majestic McKenzie River with a couple of my compadres. I think the pictures tell the story. You be the judge.

Droppin' in. Focused.


Killin' it. The river is at my mercy.


Piece of cake. Didn't even break a sweat.


Nice try McKenzie. Really good effort. Keep your chin up. Maybe next time?

I'm going, going, back, back, to Cali, Cali!

I've been distant. I'm sorry. Oh, come on? Don't do that. I'm sorry. Sincerely. What can I do? Please? What can I do? Just tell me. It's not you. It's not. It's me. I'm not just saying that.

For real though, I suck at blogging. Haven't updated in a minute, so here ya go.

I've been a real busy boy. I swear. Working way too much. I've just about had it with the man. Making pretty houses for rich people. Hating every second of it, well not quite, but almost. Being reminded everyday why I went back to school. Wishing that would start paying dividends soon. Real soon. Got student loans to pay. Lots of loans. The dream is still alive, but in the meantime--a brother's gotta eat.

It hasn't been all bad. I have a little fun here and there. Last weekend I took a little trip down to Eureka, Ca. with my favorite girls in the whole world--the Emerald City Roller Girls--who took on the Redwood Rollers. Here's some pics from the trip:

Me being really cool, again. This was a vista point somewhere between Crescent City and Eureka. Beautiful. After leaving this spot I asked my fellow travelers, "What if the Govinator changed all the vista points to hasta la vista points?" Crickets ensued.

Serious Smack aka Your Mom aka Suzy Ninja Pants and most recently Serious Cliffhanger acclimating to Eureka quite nicely. Pretty much a seamless transition.

The Skatesaphrenics huddling up. This is moments before they gave the Redwood Rollers the beating of their lives. With this bout they finished up the season a perfect 5-0. Very proud.

Lamp Lumps pourin' some delicious Ninkasi for the homies @ the pre-after party. Gangster ish.

Trinidad Beach. Prolly the most beautiful beach I have ever seen. The iPhone camera doesn't do this place any justice. Really. Check it out if you're in the neighborhood. Trails, surfing, tidepools, etc... Two thumbs up.

Ma lady and I at the beach. No, you can't have her.

Couple of Ochre Sea Stars making sweet love, or maybe they're just cuddling? A bunch of anenomes, and a lone chiton. Love the tidepool! Nature, buddy!

A cute little Lined Shore Crab.

All in all, it was an amazing trip. Some camping in the Redwoods, a little roller derby, the after-party, the beach, amazing company... Good times. Good times.

I love you.

Be Mine?

Or I'll judo chop you right in the tits. Yep, right in the ol' fun bags. Uh. . . PLEASE! I love you.

Happy Valentine's Day kids.

The majestic McKenzie

Headed over to the McKenzie for a little trout fishin' today. Hooked into a whole bunch of those suckers. A good time was had. Here are some pictures of the adventure for your viewing pleasure.

*Fish were harmed in the making of this blog. Sorry. Mom said they sure tasted good though*

7 in the morning and not too pumped yet.

Okay, now I'm gettin' happy.

This beauty put the ultra-light to the test.

Two Cunts in a Kitchen: I'm just not feelin' very fresh lately?

So I was just stumbling Wikipedia and I got hit with "Two Cunts in a Kitchen." Apparently this is a popular advertising term. Leave it to the ad industry to have a term like this. I'm not going to lie, I'm a little disappointed that I didn't know this already. I drop like $60,000 to get a good education in advertising, and I'm just now learning this. What the fuck? Thank God for StumbleUpon and Wikipedia I guess. Anyways, it refers to a tv spot in which two women are placed in a scene using, discussing, etc. an advertiser's product. Oftentimes a household product or feminine hygiene product.

Here's the link: Two Cunts in a Kitchen.

I think this qualifies:

This actually reminded me of another term that includes female genitalia. I sure do like female genitalia. Sorry. Not surprisingly, it's a roller derby term.

Runaway Pussy (noun):  An attempt by a group of blockers (may also include the pivot) to outpace a jammer to prevent her from scoring.

Vagina, vagina, vagina. That's all. Love you.