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12 Signs Being Ladylike Is Not Your Forte

How awesome is this woman?

They rockin' those stingy-brim hipster helmets*, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

An Atlantic City casino security camera shows Baltimore Ravens running back, Ray Rice, dragging his unconscious fiancé out of an elevator right after witnesses reported seeing them fighting. It’s so bad, Rice, may have to become a Cincinnati Bengal.

The Russian hockey team lost to Finland in the quarterfinals, 3-1. In an ironic twist, the Russian gold medal hopes were successfully flushed down a Sochi toilet.

Russian hockey fans are crying so hard their eyes are redder than Bob Costas’s.

Thousands of Hot Pockets had to be recalled due to containing diseased and unsound animals; didn’t the band Diseased and Unsound Animals open up for Pussy Riot?

Chicago Cubs owner, Tom Ricketts, said he feels this Cubs team could go to the playoffs; do you realize what this means? He is over-taste-testing the beer vendor samples again.

* Attention hipsters. Unless you play the bass or have the first name Justin and the last name Timberlake, lose the pork-pie doofus caps. 

Since you asked:

This story should be prefaced by saying, when I snowboard, I am a man without a country. It is a given skiers don't like me because I snowboard, but snowboarders don't like me either because I am older and wear ski clothes. 

That's OK, because I neither like the snotty skiers nor the rude snowboarders. (Not to wishy-wash, but 70% to 80% of both skiers and snowboarders are great. But the 20% to 30% that are not are so obnoxious, they seem like a higher percentage) 

Truth is snowboarders don't like most other snowboarders. They are rude to everybody, including other snowboarders. And why wouldn't they be? Many snowboarders are just skateboard punks on snow. 

Fact is, I have had way more skiers cut me off and act like jerks than snowboarders. Many skiers really, truly hate snowboarders. Snowboarders don't really care about anyone. 

It is a beautiful day in Park City and I pull up to the long main lift line at the lodge. Two retired, well-to-do skiers right in front of me are looking at me. After I say hello, they give me the long skunk-eye.  Then, rather loudly, one says to the other; 

"This place hasn't been the same since they let these lousy darn snowboarders in." The other replies;

"Yeah, they ruin the runs and push off all the damn good snow."

Which is, I have to say, kind of true . . . 

They went on to make a few more disparging comments about snowboarder's lack of respect and questionable clothing choices. There are more than a few snowboarders in line, so the mood is quite tense. So, not able to let this go, I respond even louder;

"Well, at least snowboarders have better manners than talking sh*t right in front of someone."

This gets a smattering of tense giggles followed by a long silence. It was at this point when I think the old guys figured out how much bigger I was than they, so they suddenly became quiet. 

To cut the frosty tension, and feeling slightly guilty as a representative of the snowboard contingent, I say;

"How you guys doing, you having a good day? You look good. Isn't it beautiful today?"

They responded to my peace offering with more angry, icy glares. More tense silence. Fine. Clearly these guys are a couple of cranky a-holes. Now it is game on. I let fly with;

"So what time are you guys filming; "Grumpier Old Men 3?" What's Walter Mathau really like?" 

This cracked up the entire line - except for the two old, bitter guys - and got me a high five by the Park City lift-guy helping folks with the chair. When I sat down on the chair lift, I took off up the mountain to the muffled sound of gloves clapping behind me and I left with a classy no-look "thank you" wave.

My job was done there.  

There is a scene in “Lonesome Dove,” after they bury their beloved fellow Ranger, Deets, (Danny Glover) where Call (Tommy Lee Jones) laments he should have shot sooner to save Deets. Gus (Robert Duval) replies;

“I can’t stand to think about all the things we should have done for this good man.”

Right now I can’t stop thinking of all the good things I should have said to my departed old friend Steve "Big Lew" Lewis.

Heart-broken, is what I am. 

Lots of discussion on if NBC's Christin Cooper went too far and got Bode Miller to cry. Although I am sure she meant no harm, she did push it too far. I mean, come on, after the interview, Bode's eyes were redder than Bob Costas's. 

Neil Young - After The Gold Rush

Big Lew. My word. How many games did we play together? Touch football. One-on-one hoops. Horse. 8th grade basketball team. 8th grade football. Frisbee tag at Tower Beach. The winless Crow Island football team. (Winless? Hell, we never got  a first down)  You threw a football so hard, my left little finger still sticks out a little. Just enough so that I hit the caps lock key instead of the a. So that means I get to think about Lew just ABOU . . .  about everyday.

In Fourth grade, another great friend of mine, Howie Detmer, and I were laboring under the misconception that, if you were a big, tough athlete, you had to be a hard case. It was Lew who taught us it was much better to be our own funny selves. Nobody was a bigger or better athlete than Lew. Nobody was funnier than Lew. Nobody was a better friend. 

They don't tell you at the time, but you only get so many great childhood friends.  


Rest in peace, Lew.  Incredible father of three angels and a devoted husband to beautiful Liz. You will be missed.

This Poem Sucks (So I Married an Axe Murderer)