Post-SOPA White-Out

I bought a snowboard off my little brother figuring if I go even once this year it pays for itself.

Mostly I just stare at it in the corner, wondering when I turned into such a dude, with my extreme winter sports and extra guitars and red furniture and fine art.

Thank God for the Optimus Primes in my closet.

On Snowboarding

Sean White may look like Carrot Top's butch sister, but
the guy certainly knows his snowboard jackets.
Also, I guess snowboards.

I went snowboarding yesterday. With boots and a board and a ski(?) left and everything. I paid people to make fake snow for me. It was wonderful. I loved pretty much every single minute of it.

I mean I didn't enjoy the several minutes of combined time I spent in complete agony, but I enjoyed the experiences that cause them. Yeah, I busted my ass and, yeah, I probably sprained my wrist, but totally worth it. Hell, the wrist thing happened during the lesson part of the trip. Honestly, I can barely wait to heal up and go back.

And this from the guy who gets winded walking from the dugout to home plate.


Oh, god! I just realized something: I was about to make a "Typing with one hand" joke–something about it not being an under-practiced habit–but, truthfully, my hand doesn't hurt bad enough that I can't type. More worrisome, though, I do think there would be some problems if I tried to test that joke.