Thursday, January 6, 2011


Quick! What goofy twat recently, on the last wave in the last minutes of daylight on the last day of the first decade of this century, after completing a cheater-five-to-switchstance-cutback-to-parallel-iron-cross maneuver in belly high shore dump, jumped, or more likely excreted himself off his board into foot high water landing straight on his head? You got it! I got up a little wobbly, a crick in the neck, but felt much better about myself (for a while) after the hooded beach comber, whom I subsequently imagined must be a long lost surfing superstar, said to me as I walked back up the beach "Nice riding," only to realize, as I presented myself moments later, dripping salt water and momentarily satisfied to wifey, re-watching for the third time the first season of Friday Night Lights as she observed, "Looked like you were having fun out there, what did that homeless man say to you?", the not-too subtle realization that I too could be my very own Jason Street. Don't try that goofy crap at home kids. And adults, try not to rib me too hard next time you see me. I mean, it really was a good wave. It really was, as they say in nearly every television advert on T.V. these days, awesome. Even if subsequent nights of tricky sleep on a dodgy neck hasn't spoken highly of it.
On the flip side, being back in town with a slightly pinched nerve and lots of new yearish errands to run, I bumped into this place across the street from my mechanic. I got real excited before looking closer to spy that each and every dinged, dented and yellowed board comes with a price-tag of at least $1600. You can buy the seat but you'll only use the edge.

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