Gear Review

It was at a small, relatively spartan ski resort in Colorado that I spent my spring break. No fully-enclosed gondolas or mid-mountain lodges to pamper me. It was mountain versus man and into battle I could only bring my gear. It would be an understatement to say I survived the week; irresponsible to say I deserve all the credit. I had good gear. So, bravely, I'll share with you my secrets in case you're planning to battle a mountain in wintertime.

Lange World Cup 130 Ski Boot

Purchased online, I was nervous how they would fit. Luckily they stayed true to Mondo sizing and they fit my feet well. The notoriously difficult entry/exit is acceptable considering the extreme comfort my foot enjoyed all day. Good ankle angle for all-mountain shredding and roomy toe-box for warmth made me forget I was wearing ski-boots. I have narrow (but manly) feet, and this kick was just right, so if you've got Frodo feet, bind 'em then buy these boots. They're fantastic. Plus you look macho.

Marker M 11.0 TC Free Binding

Park binding for park skiing, race binding for race skiing. Bindings should purchased for function. I didn't do that. I purchased for price. Luckily they fit my style of skiing (epic) and I can only give these a glowing review. In the one real instance when I needed them to breakaway (sixth gear into waist-deep powder, avoiding trees (I think razor-oaks)), they were flawless. Otherwise, they gave lots of response on the groomers, and stayed tight when the temperatures spiked and made stuff messy.

Rossignol S3 Pommier Ski

Classified as a twin-tip, and called an all-mountain sled with park capability, the S3 can hold it's own anywhere. My 170s had a toe/waist/heel of 122/92/115, making them ultra versatile. They're the SUVs of skis. With less chance of moral judgements being thrown at the owner. While I did spend some time in the park, let's say my quest to see if the skis could handle a triple-Salchow-magnum-pipe-tanker-twist is yet unanswered. There are certainly skis out there that handle speed better, or handle the park better, or handle the trees better, but there are probably few that do all three better. The S3 is like a German Shepherd.

Rossignol Phantom 7000 Ski Poles

They're ski poles. They're all the same. Like men. (WHAT'S UP LADIES!!! Look how funny and self-aware I can be.)

In conclusion, I only gave praise; no critique. If I watched the show, I would make a hilarious American Idol reference here.

Yes, that's an udder:

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All Cougars Were Once Cubs

You know what a Cougar is. Demi/Ashton, not Bagheera/Mowgli. I think my hangout (the gym) is the Central Texas Cougar breeding ground.

So of course there's the blonde hot desk worker lady. Probably 25 years old. She greets members as they enter the facility and changes the trash bags. And she's hot. And until recently I thought that was the extent of her job description. Silly me. How foolish I was to think that this flaxen vixen wasn't up to something much more sinister. You see, where a Cougar preys on the younger man, this specimen (speciwoman?) seeks out the older, decrepit male population. She's a Cougar Cub. I noticed it for the first time last week. Then again twice this week. And finally again today. Four times is no coincidence. She's systematic. (I know this isn't the first ever case of young-lady/old-man, but this is so close to home. It's home-grown Cougarism) There's even a specific spot in the gym (the recumbent bikes) that she stakes out. She's like an actual cougar laying in the tall grass, waiting for some dopey dear at a watering hole. She waits for the old chap to settle in, break a light sweat, then she pounces. Sure, to the untrained eye it looks like they're having a pleasant conversation, but I'm not convinced. I refuse to believe that she's concerned about the patrons of her employer and that it is in her best interest to make sure they're comfortable. Bull.

While I can't technically substantiate any of these allegations (I always have headphones on. Angry gangster rap blaring. It scares me, and fear is a natural muscle builder. Read a book.), I'm working on my lip-reading skills. I'm still a novice but I think today Cougar Cub asked the unsuspecting fella (anything I write here will be misconstrued as inappropriate sexual innuendo so I'll take the high road and end the sentence now. Sicko.).

The only remaining chapter to be written in this story includes the tale where I, in a slip of the tongue, accidentally call her "Cougar Cub" to her face. Stay tuned.

NASCAR doesn't need you.

As I lie in bed sick listening to the Tony Kornheiser Radio Show on podcast while slamming O-Juice and wheat crackers with natural peanut butter (my usual routine, sans the natural peanut butter), I'm reaching my limit of "NASCAR has ruined itself with the Daytona 500 debacle last weekend" drivel. If you didn't see what happened, here's a quick recap. On lap... whatever, a pothole formed on the track like a melanoma on a nudist skier. And like a melanoma on a nudist skier, you can't be surprised that a pothole appeared. Apparently the track hadn't had a complete resurfacing since the 1970s. The race had to be stopped a couple times for a combined total of roughly 2.5 hours, while allegedly incompetent road crews patched the pothole with a mixture of sand and toothpaste. The whole thing was televised. Nationally. The race finished in the dark. The sports-voices have been crucifying NASCAR for mishandling the situation, embarrassing themselves on national TV during what was their Super Bowl event. "It was NASCAR's chance to connect with the general viewer and they ruined it."

Was it inexcusable that a pothole formed during the Daytona freaking 500? Yes. Once the hole formed, was the situation embarrassingly mishandled? Probably. But I have one message for the NASCAR-haters, those who think NASCAR's image is irreparably marred: NASCAR doesn't need you. Keep berating NASCAR. Keep criticizing. See if they care. I'll quote myself from earlier in this article (this needs to be done more often- quoting oneself from the very article in which one is still writing): "the track hadn't had a complete resurfacing since the 1970s." That means they've been racing since the 1970s. At this point, that's like 40 years. That's the better part of 51 years, which is the better part of 100 years! 100 years!!!!

Look, NASCAR has been kicking for a long time and has a deep (and more importantly, loyal) fan base who aren't going to be ultimately put off by a few extra hours of maintenance during a race. So to sports-voices having a hate-field-day over NASCAR and its forever-damaged image, you need to be cut off like a melanoma on a... you know.