Woodward report from Anch

When is the Ray’s trip?


No footage from Woodward this weekend. Several cameras were brought, none used. Typical. But I can summarize. The summary may even be better than some crummy footage anyways. Plenty of that shit online now anyways (read–shitty footage). Also, considering we saw ourselves on the video screen there, we already know how much we really, truly suck. Negative self-esteem after watching how bad were actually were. Not low self-esteem, negative. And we got too burnt and hurt to even get to a titty bar. That was just sad. 20’s to 30’s, rough transition.

Sick (literally) Friday, back hurt going in to the drive up. So we’re not even there yet and I’m already both (1) hurt, and (2), sick.

Arrive late with gang of idiots from MD and PA environs. Gross burrito for lunch at “alternative burrito”. Note: do not get burrito there again.

So session is already 1/2 over when we get there. Blizzard-like conditions add to the psyched-ness of riding heated and indoors. This psychedness will bite me real quick.

Hurt my back even more within first hour on some new drop into the foam. I got hurt in the f’ing foam! Now I can’t even move my neck. Begin doing ‘self massage’ on every pole I see for the next hour to try to salvage any sort of session, or to be able to take full breath, even. Now I can’t cough well OR get a full breath. Feel as though death is near, or should be. Eye up various Moms of Groms (MOGS, not MILFS) for sympathy back rub. Doesn�t happen. Continue the bear-scratch thing to be able to even breathe.

Others are in various states of being old, sucking, or a combination of the two. Oddly enough, the dude who didn’t ride his 20 for a year appeared to be doing exactly the same shit as the last time I saw him there. However, he rode 1/2 as much. And not at all Sunday. Reasons why follow. And it wasn’t even Frank. He came back Sunday and threw me into a wall. Literally, again. Back more more fucked up now. And he’s still drunk. Frankenstein, damn you. So I have to hit everything better than him to retain some sort of boss status. But it’s weak, at best. Like wearing AXE effect. Beejus.

Go direct to state college for dinner, get kicked out of bar for fondling the nubiles at 2am. Most women in the bar were handled prior to eviction, so it worked out, since they were closing anyways. And girls feel soooooo good. All squishy and what not.

Urinaring on cars, wrestling in snow. Wait, dudes are pissing on my car. We are driving back in. Brains working even less now. This is all within 10 minutes of getting to the car. Back hurt even more now. Friends not listening to my pleas to PLEASE leave my back alone. Pleas go unanswered. Consider leaving them in town to wrestle others as I drive back, but sadly there is another car to take them back to the Inn. Fuckers.

Wrestling ensues at the Inn at 3:30am with various levels of pathetic-ness. . Others hide, some commence to safety breaks under large “NO SMOKING” signs. Frank ends up giggling and falling out of bed, then leaving the room after snoring for two hours and not returning. When I got up for a pee break, he was not spotted in the hallway on the way to the bathroom or in the bathroom (cue visions in my head of sink vomit from that old CP house) It was reported he was seen sleeping on a chair in the hallway approximately 10 feet away from several open, unoccupied beds. Note said chair was not a lazy-boy type, but rather a little wicker thing with no arm rests. He weighs 240 pounds and looks like what a neo-nazi would look like in a scary dream. Even though he’s not, that’s the best description I can come up with. Even though typical neo nazi’s I see on the news look like they could spend a bit more time in life getting some sun and working out, neither of which franks needs any more of. But the big, scary description remains until I find a better comparison. I mean, dude was drunk and threw me like, like a discus. He may have even giggled as I arched back into my pain.

At breakfast others already asleep for the night report ‘entire building was shaking’ when we arrived.

Session Sunday is my best. Unsure why; perhaps trying to jew-out a few pennies of the cost to get to the fucking place and ride at all. Not to mention the drive time, dealing with etc, etc.

Team USA happy ending. Everyone shakes and is psyched. Unsure why, as we all reek of old pads and cigarettes, didn’t get more than a quick squeeze of ass, and are pretty much feeling like shit and are hurt and just need to go to bed.

Proof of my shit state is me sitting here typing this out for the last hour. Back doesn’t bend, and coughing up what appears to be discolored clumps of yogurt, but I can type.

Shred gnar, or just pretend to.

damn, my shit is weak

~ by milkman on January 27, 2009.

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