Honestly, I lead a very dull existence here in the boonies of New Hampshire. For Christmas I got the comfy sheepskin shoes--not slippers, mind you--that I wanted, I learned that my house at school owes $280 to the cable company through our own fault and other extenuating circumstances, and I've spent time outside--you guessed it--snowshoeing. I've also learned a few things from the New York Times website. First, as you may all know, Bhutto was assassinated. This is disturbing on various levels. For Pakistan, it almost certainly spells doom, or at the very least, some good old-fashioned political turmoil. For the (Western) world it almost certainly spells political turmoil, but possible doom should Islamic militants gain control of the government which has in its possession nuclear arms.
But, fear not. I have much more exciting news to share. Kiwis aren't actually dead! Not only are they not extinct, but they're making a comeback! Maybe it was just me, confusing them for their kin, the dodo, which is in fact extinct, but I was pretty pumped to see this. I'm not saying kiwis can counter the havoc a few Islamic fundamentalists (or Christian Bushesque fundamentalists, for the matter) could wreak with a couple of nukes, but it's good to see the little guys make a comeback.
In other news, Guitar Hero is addicting. Consider yourself warned.
Otherwise, really not much to report here. Just biding my time here in the Arctic Circle that is New England in winter. I have a Nantucket visitor arriving tomorrow and staying until New Year's Day which should be a great deal of fun. The day after I have a phone interview for a job with Grassroots Campaigns, this kind of guns-for-hire organization for, well, grassroots campaigns. They organize and train workers for various progressive campaigns both political--DNC, Moveon.org--and social--Sierra Club, ACLU. It'd be great to have a job after college set, leaving me much less stressed out during the final term of senior year.
Anyway, before I leave, check out this Youtube Clip of the Day. Giving him the business. Word.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Of ski hills and beer
(Disclaimer: neither Harpoon Brewery nor any of its employees influenced this post in any way whatsoever.)
To start off today, have you all seen the new Batman trailer? It looks really sweet. The Dark Knight pits Christian Bale's Batman against Heath Ledger's Joker (yeah, it really is Ledger which is kind of nuts) in what looks like an epic flick. I'm really liking this rebirth of Batman with the grungier, colder, more I'm-Batman-and-I'm-going-to-fuck-you-up feel. I think this is exactly the injection of new energy the series needed. Similarly, while I feel that perhaps the new Superman movie was a bit, well, boring as fuck all and an insult to the series, Casino Royale was a phenomenal rebirth of what is already my favorite film franchise ever, with Daniel Craig's Bond also displaying a grungier, colder, more, I'm-Bond-James-Bond-and-I'm-going-to-fuck-you-up feel. Now, I do not pretend to be a film critic, and I know I'm not one of those lame middle-aged men who live in an apartment above their mother's house debating Lord of the Rings trivia in chatrooms with other cyber-geeks from Stockholm, Sri Lanka, and all points in between--thus, I will say nothing more on the upcoming Batman movie. Just watch it yourself here.
So as I was discussing the other day, we have snow. Lots and lots of it. And so, as our local ski area, Whaleback, opened yesterday, it was only fitting that I go appreciate the only thing worth crawling out of bed for in the wintry months: fresh tracks. For those of you who don't ski, fresh tracks are for a skier what blow jobs are for a high school kid: they're a lot smoother and a hell of a lot more enjoyable than the usual fare. With the promise of fresh tracks and free skiing (from 3pm until 7pm under the lights), my brother, my friend Ryan, and I all piled into Ryan's Subaru and made the pilgramage out to our first ski day of the 07-08 season.
Oh, and I had never night skied before. It turned out to be pretty cool, but not all that it's cracked up to be--kind of like that first blow job.
The skiing itself was pretty good. I got to lay down some fresh tracks on one of the more main trails on the ski hill (yeah, it's really much more of a hill, serviced by a single two-rider lift) as well as cruise some of the smoother groomers. But I tell ya, after only six runs, my knees and quads were pretty tired. I'm becoming an old man.
...Old enough to drink, that is! For the better part of a decade I've read articles in ski magazines about fantastic powder bowls and off-piste adventures, which are always followed by articles about the best après-ski bars and saloons. Finally, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, I was able to take part in one of skiings most sacred rites. (I mean, after Tuckerman Ravine, what else is there? Beer and babes, that's what.) Luckily, Ryan had only just turned twenty-one less than a week before, so I had a drinking buddy. And my brother, well, he's only eighteen which made him the DD. Word.
The bar was pathetic by most bar standards. The stage was run down and the bar itself didn't even have limes! But it did have Harpoon on tap and that, my friends, along with its location not fifty yards from the ski slopes, made this bar perfect for our purposes. This was Ryan's first time out buying pints without mommy and daddy around and it was only appropriate that his first legal beer be of the local, Harpoon Brewery, variety. While their Winter Warmer was a tad too nutmeggy for our liking, their Brown Ale was quite good indeed.
A few pints and a couple of hours later, Ryan and I were ready to be driven home. As fate would have it, my brother decided to stop off at the Mobil station to get some of those big-ass iced tea cans he's so fond of. I followed him in, more-or-less coherent, to see what beer selection they had. One by one I nixed one beer after another: Bud (doesn't even count, really), Heineken, Molson, even Samuel Adam's Boston Lager--nothing seemed to satisfy my needs. Then I saw it. Harpoon's UFO Raspberry. I swear to God, this beer is incredible. It's an unfiltered hefeweizen with a bold raspberry undertone that makes it the ultimate summer beer... or the ultimate beer for anytime that one is getting tanked far too early in the night. Needless to say, my night, which started with me downhill skiing, continued in that direction--downhill.
I woke up this morning feeling a little groggy, but otherwise in perfect shape to take on today's adventure: a guided tour and tasting at the Harpoon Brewery in Windsor, Vermont. More to follow...
Oh yeah, here's the Youtube Clip of the Day. It's warmer, fuzzier remix of a classic, albeit a tad shorter. Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy New Year, Happy Birthday, Happy Anniversary... Yeah, word.
To start off today, have you all seen the new Batman trailer? It looks really sweet. The Dark Knight pits Christian Bale's Batman against Heath Ledger's Joker (yeah, it really is Ledger which is kind of nuts) in what looks like an epic flick. I'm really liking this rebirth of Batman with the grungier, colder, more I'm-Batman-and-I'm-going-to-fuck-you-up feel. I think this is exactly the injection of new energy the series needed. Similarly, while I feel that perhaps the new Superman movie was a bit, well, boring as fuck all and an insult to the series, Casino Royale was a phenomenal rebirth of what is already my favorite film franchise ever, with Daniel Craig's Bond also displaying a grungier, colder, more, I'm-Bond-James-Bond-and-I'm-going-to-fuck-you-up feel. Now, I do not pretend to be a film critic, and I know I'm not one of those lame middle-aged men who live in an apartment above their mother's house debating Lord of the Rings trivia in chatrooms with other cyber-geeks from Stockholm, Sri Lanka, and all points in between--thus, I will say nothing more on the upcoming Batman movie. Just watch it yourself here.
So as I was discussing the other day, we have snow. Lots and lots of it. And so, as our local ski area, Whaleback, opened yesterday, it was only fitting that I go appreciate the only thing worth crawling out of bed for in the wintry months: fresh tracks. For those of you who don't ski, fresh tracks are for a skier what blow jobs are for a high school kid: they're a lot smoother and a hell of a lot more enjoyable than the usual fare. With the promise of fresh tracks and free skiing (from 3pm until 7pm under the lights), my brother, my friend Ryan, and I all piled into Ryan's Subaru and made the pilgramage out to our first ski day of the 07-08 season.
Oh, and I had never night skied before. It turned out to be pretty cool, but not all that it's cracked up to be--kind of like that first blow job.
The skiing itself was pretty good. I got to lay down some fresh tracks on one of the more main trails on the ski hill (yeah, it's really much more of a hill, serviced by a single two-rider lift) as well as cruise some of the smoother groomers. But I tell ya, after only six runs, my knees and quads were pretty tired. I'm becoming an old man.
...Old enough to drink, that is! For the better part of a decade I've read articles in ski magazines about fantastic powder bowls and off-piste adventures, which are always followed by articles about the best après-ski bars and saloons. Finally, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, I was able to take part in one of skiings most sacred rites. (I mean, after Tuckerman Ravine, what else is there? Beer and babes, that's what.) Luckily, Ryan had only just turned twenty-one less than a week before, so I had a drinking buddy. And my brother, well, he's only eighteen which made him the DD. Word.
The bar was pathetic by most bar standards. The stage was run down and the bar itself didn't even have limes! But it did have Harpoon on tap and that, my friends, along with its location not fifty yards from the ski slopes, made this bar perfect for our purposes. This was Ryan's first time out buying pints without mommy and daddy around and it was only appropriate that his first legal beer be of the local, Harpoon Brewery, variety. While their Winter Warmer was a tad too nutmeggy for our liking, their Brown Ale was quite good indeed.
A few pints and a couple of hours later, Ryan and I were ready to be driven home. As fate would have it, my brother decided to stop off at the Mobil station to get some of those big-ass iced tea cans he's so fond of. I followed him in, more-or-less coherent, to see what beer selection they had. One by one I nixed one beer after another: Bud (doesn't even count, really), Heineken, Molson, even Samuel Adam's Boston Lager--nothing seemed to satisfy my needs. Then I saw it. Harpoon's UFO Raspberry. I swear to God, this beer is incredible. It's an unfiltered hefeweizen with a bold raspberry undertone that makes it the ultimate summer beer... or the ultimate beer for anytime that one is getting tanked far too early in the night. Needless to say, my night, which started with me downhill skiing, continued in that direction--downhill.
I woke up this morning feeling a little groggy, but otherwise in perfect shape to take on today's adventure: a guided tour and tasting at the Harpoon Brewery in Windsor, Vermont. More to follow...
Oh yeah, here's the Youtube Clip of the Day. It's warmer, fuzzier remix of a classic, albeit a tad shorter. Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy New Year, Happy Birthday, Happy Anniversary... Yeah, word.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Innaugural posting
Here I am, finally jumping into the world of blogging, a realm where anyone with a laptop is afforded a cyber soapbox from which they can rant about whatever they desire and assume people from all over the world give two shits about what they have to say.
I guess I'm one of those people. Damn.
As I begin my last winter break, possibly ever, I find myself sleeping those long hours that college kids only dream of during the term and yet have no idea where my days go. Not only that, with the waking hours I do have, I find myself wondering how the hell I've A) accumulated so many random, useless books that I never intend to read again over the course of three-and-a-half years at a northeastern liberal arts school, and B) why the hell I even bother selling them for, more often than not, less than ten dollars a pop. Buying books at full price and then selling them for nothing at all. I may have only taken one macro class my entire college career, but I still know that this is poor economics. Oh well, desperate times of a broke college student call for desperate measures I suppose...
Winter break isn't all bad though. While global warming has in recent years deprived us of White Christmas conditions, this year we've been blessed with snow by the metric buttloads. It's nice in a sentimental sense, even for me, an apathetic white kid from rural New Hampshire who hasn't really gotten so jolly in recent holiday seasons. Though, I will say, driving from Boston the other day was rather nightmarish, and could have been lethal had I not had an empty coffee cup and the audacity to use it, cupful by cupful, to relieve nature's call whilst driving 35 mph on I-93. The snow has given me the opportunity to enjoy one of my newest passions: snowshoeing. And I know what you're thinking, that "passion" is a pretty strong word to describe an activity that pits man against nature, with man wearing ridiculous tennis racket-like contraptions on his feet. Clearly, even if man were to win this epic battle, nature gets the last laugh: no one dressed nature up like that. But seriously, I know it sounds kind of lame, but there's really nothing more peaceful than being out in the middle of the woods in the snow. There are few, if any, birds to break the silence, allowing one to get some good, old-fashioned self-reflection done. And, there are endorphines which are nice, too. Word.
In any case, I need to move on with my day and off of the couch sitting here next to my brother who is also on his laptop, videochatting with some hottie with blue eyes. I will leave you with this Youtube (Political) Clip of the Day: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEouauH_mIw
Yes, Ron Paul, I want to bet every cent in my pocket that you're a stupid old bastard.
I guess I'm one of those people. Damn.
As I begin my last winter break, possibly ever, I find myself sleeping those long hours that college kids only dream of during the term and yet have no idea where my days go. Not only that, with the waking hours I do have, I find myself wondering how the hell I've A) accumulated so many random, useless books that I never intend to read again over the course of three-and-a-half years at a northeastern liberal arts school, and B) why the hell I even bother selling them for, more often than not, less than ten dollars a pop. Buying books at full price and then selling them for nothing at all. I may have only taken one macro class my entire college career, but I still know that this is poor economics. Oh well, desperate times of a broke college student call for desperate measures I suppose...
Winter break isn't all bad though. While global warming has in recent years deprived us of White Christmas conditions, this year we've been blessed with snow by the metric buttloads. It's nice in a sentimental sense, even for me, an apathetic white kid from rural New Hampshire who hasn't really gotten so jolly in recent holiday seasons. Though, I will say, driving from Boston the other day was rather nightmarish, and could have been lethal had I not had an empty coffee cup and the audacity to use it, cupful by cupful, to relieve nature's call whilst driving 35 mph on I-93. The snow has given me the opportunity to enjoy one of my newest passions: snowshoeing. And I know what you're thinking, that "passion" is a pretty strong word to describe an activity that pits man against nature, with man wearing ridiculous tennis racket-like contraptions on his feet. Clearly, even if man were to win this epic battle, nature gets the last laugh: no one dressed nature up like that. But seriously, I know it sounds kind of lame, but there's really nothing more peaceful than being out in the middle of the woods in the snow. There are few, if any, birds to break the silence, allowing one to get some good, old-fashioned self-reflection done. And, there are endorphines which are nice, too. Word.
In any case, I need to move on with my day and off of the couch sitting here next to my brother who is also on his laptop, videochatting with some hottie with blue eyes. I will leave you with this Youtube (Political) Clip of the Day: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEouauH_mIw
Yes, Ron Paul, I want to bet every cent in my pocket that you're a stupid old bastard.
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