Duff & Duff for all the Ya-Ya’s
Looks like we have some catching up to do--I have been away for bit...a few at Mammoth, a few more at Baldy and one at June…
So, yet again His Dudeness arrives in cyberland with more blatant written garbage for your visual displeasure...but it is finally here once anon in its full anti-glory, none-the-less.
Photos:
Pictures of Mammoth Dec 11-12, 2004
Abridged Version: The anthill is again in need of new snow, lots of pow-pow would be kind. But never give up on the hill, no matter the conditions…Stay positive and remember how lucky we all really truly are...
*Insert my standard quid-pro-quo here, please.* If you do not like me, my verbosity, or my extra-lengthy tales upon the sweet whiteness...umm, duh, I repeat...DUH, do not read any further.
So grab a chalice of java, or perhaps a fine malt beverage, or maybe just some other drink of choice...kick back, prepare to be put to sleep with my usual nomenclature of excessive adjectives, descriptors, similes, metaphors, and slang that no one understands fully, 'cept this mondo SoCal kook...
Away we go on the journey into the mentally inane workings of BodhiSnowdude...
Let me get my bitching rant here out of the way pronto, so that I can drop the whining, bitch-slap myself on the cheek, and get on with some uplifting enlightenment of pleasures on the sparkle and fade…
For the drive to Mammoth from SoCal, I am torn between the two camps:
1. Doing the trek Friday afternoon and adding two hours because of traffic, and
2. Hitting the road in the wee-hours of Saturday morn and hitting no traffic.
Option one gives me a decent night’s sleep before hitting the slopes, but creates unneeded frustration and risk of being on the road at the same time as everyone in California. The extra drive time can be as much as 2+…
Option two allows for a serenity drive in less then 5 hours from Temmy, no traffic, no worries, smooth sailing all the way up the 395, but leaves one a bit groggy for the day on the slopes and wiped out by dinner time, unable to partake in any evening proclivities.
Most of the time I opt for the early-am departure, but this past w/e I chose to bail right after work…so I bolted home at 3:00pm, ate some grindies, packed the gear, stocked the cooler, loaded the truck, gave Dude (my pup) a hug and a chewy on the way out the door, and was on the street by 4pm.
Btw, Blondie was a last minute ditch-bitch, needing to get some X-mas shit accomplished around the house and in the malls without my presence in the near-by. I tossed about the idea of kidnapping Dude and taking him to the mtn with me, but figured it would piss off the old lady too much since I had the feeling she wanted to spend some quality time with him over the w/e…esp since he spend more time thru the weekdays with me, me-thinks she was trying to get his favor more in her direction, she thinks he tends to me more than her…jealous chicks, eh? Besides that, if I took Dude without her actually knowing it, I would probably not get laid until Christmas 2005…behold the evil power the ladies hold over us guys…
Fucking traffic—damn, SoCal dolts behind wheel. TMC syndrome for the past ten years here and it is getting worse by the day seems. Millions of aimless simpletons (like myself) drudging their way to their little pieces of the world---all at the same time—block’o-ing up the route like constipation in need of an aenima. And Southern Cal could definitely use an aenima.
For the life of me...I could not get out of my little burg! Wish I had the power of Bruce Almighty and could have moved all the cars out of my way, and blasted a line right down the middle…BION, Took me 35mins to get to Murrietta, when it should have taken me only five…honestly, I could have done the trip faster on my Marin.
Trucks and Cars…mostly purposeless SUVs everywhere…plus, add in the spice of crazy maniacles on crotch rockets scooting threads between lanes narrowly missing side mirrors abounding everywhere…change lanes w/o looking over your shoulder and you’d layout one of the fools on their heads—spat! Avant-garde red pavement. Maybe that would be Darwinism working magic, but I do not need the headache of manslaughter on my record…then I would never get back into Canada, eh?
I am usually a mellow calm dude “who takes ‘er easy” 24/7 with positive thoughts humming about my brain…but sometimes while on the pavement, evil transgressions of aggression float by on the forefront of consciousness and block out my peaceful easy feeling of just simply and softly cruising down the lane jamming to kind reggae rhythms…so, dammit be to those forsaken souls who make me get vile in my mind’s eye. I hate them all…
”Hey dork! How does my exhaust smell? Think I’ll pass the smog? Maybe you should just give the pipe a blowjob since you are up my ass so much…dick.”
“Ahhh, such a pretty-pretty girlie—you little size three tight-bod solo princess, with your seat pushed up all the way to the steering wheel, in your gargantuan SUV that is pointlessly redundant with no 4WD…I want to thank you, thank you very much, for warning me by hitting your brakes nine million times…just keep pumping those brakes on each and every slight downgrade, so that everyone behind your pretty little ass has brake panic. And in turn they hit their brakes a little bit harder, and then the person behind them hits theirs a little bit harder, then the person behind them…and so on, and so on, until we are all at a complete stop…I appreciated your efforts you dumb soccer mom-twat. Go back to Connect-i-cunt with your Mass-hole hubby, 2.5s, and dog while you still can.”
Hell, I deeply wish we had roadway emicons, ones that we could flash out to all the idiots…sort of like “Bat-Signals” projecting out from headlights and tail-lights…expressway expressionism via illuminating illumination…for it seems in our cut-throat world of the commuter age, sign language does not cut it anymore; blowing your horn only adds to the huge noise pollution; and obvious drastic maneuvers only add more psychotic episodes of unneeded chaos to the freeway (which is no longer free here in Cali).
So I had no choice but to creep along as one sand granule in the hourglass freeway…Temecula thru Murrietta, Sun City, Perris, Riverside, San Bernardino, the merge back on to the 15, up the Cajon pass…then broke into the clear when the 395 exits the 15 in Hesperia, then the same old--swear that I know every nook and cranny in the road sometimes—passing Adelanto, the death whoop-de-whoops, CA58 at four corners, the old fed prison, red mountain, Johannesburg, Ridgecrest, Inyokern, Pearsonsonville, Little Lake, Coso jct, Dunmovin, Olancha, Cartago, Lone Pine, Independence, Big Pine, Bishop…
Pulled into Vons in Bishop, ran into AsandyGal and Skier11053 plundering some sin supplies…strolled around the store aimlessly in flip-flops and board-shorts, looking for God knows whatever I did not know to eat. I was still road drunk from the l-o-n-g inoculating drive. Seemed like yesterday that I left home…
Then up the Sherwin Grade, Toms Place, Lake Crawley…made it to the CrabCooker around 11pm…really needed the 4wd to get back to my favorite little natural tub—the road had ice and tons of wash-out, but got there none-the-less with no hitches…but I decided to hit the hay on the futon in the back of the truck and soak in the tub in the morning…
[continued below...I actually exceeded the 10,000 character post limit (those that know me, go figure, eh?)]
peace,
BS.
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