December 3, 2002

quiz time

“It illuminated the entire forest with a white light,” he added. “The object itself had a pulsing red light on top and a bank of blue lights underneath. The object was hovering, or on legs.”

This passage describes a…

a) Honda Civic

b) Wooch! Expedition

c) UFO

d) Jesus

Check your answer.

What are 16-year-old boys doing with axes these days?

a) killing pets

b) killing themselves

c) killing blind men

d) chopping wood.

Check your answer.

Where are we putting cameras?

a) in shopping malls

b) in your bedroom

c) in outer space

d) in our bowels

Check your answer.

What makes you impotent?

a) radiation

b) mountain biking

c) Austria

d) that guy’s hair

Check your answer.


December 2, 2002

half full/empty/baked

Lately I’ve been getting headaches from sitting in front of the computer six hours a day, five days a week. If I ever want to make it in the working world (which I’m not sure I do, and I’m currently entertaining dreams of being a windsurfing/snowboarding/rock climbing bum post-graduation) I need to remedy this maladie. After performing an amateurish eye exam at a Culver’s in Madison, we decided that I probably have a stigmatism. It sounds painful, what with Christ and nails and blood and everything, but really it’s just achy and annoying.

Well, really achy, really, and I need to do something about it. Since it ain’t something simple like far-sightedness or near-sightedness or eye-loss I need to get prescription glasses. And that’s where you can be helpful, dear reader. Is there any sort of eye place up here in the Twin Ports area that people absolutely adore? I have heard awful things about Pearle Vision, which has an establishment at Miller Hill, but besides that this is a completely foreign realm to me. Short of poking my eyes out with sticks and stumbling around with a cane, what other options does the Duluth/Superior area offer?

Yes, I’m fully aware this is a blatent shirking of responsibility on my part, but I’m a busy, busy man that needs to stay glued to this headache machine.


December 1, 2002

buzz

When I was a wee youngin’ and learning to ski, my family would always go out to Powder Ridge in Kimbal, Minnesota. The hill was an improbable nub of rock jutting out of an endless sea of farmland. It wasn’t a great ski hill by any means, but if you were a seven-year-old sprite with limited knowledge of gravity and muscles to burn, it was about as close to heaven as you could get.

We always went on weeknights, probably because it was less crowded and less expensive than a weekend jaunt would be. I never saw the place in daylight, but that’s just as well. It enhanced the mystery. Their floodlights worked to keep the darkness of winter at bay. I always hear their buzzing floodlights.

I had some old skis that were made before bindings came rigged with stopping mechanisms, so I had to wear leather straps that snaked around my legs. One time I got tired of carrying those skis and left them at the hill. I insist that I left them behind because I thought my parents would pick them up. My parents insist I left them behind because I hated those skis. We’re probably both right.

When we got cold we would go into the chalet for donuts with sprinkles and hot chocolate. They had two orange boot-warming machines that I found fascinating, but my dad would never give me quarters to try it out. They also had an arcade with Streets of Rage. You got to punch people a lot.

Once I became mildly competent at skiing (and I got some new skis) I would often run off on my own. I liked to ski through the trees and fly off jumps, and my dad liked to disapprove of these antics. Once when going up the chairlift alone I saw someone pull a 360 off a neat jump. When I got off the chair I waddled over to the chute, and after getting my nerves up I burned downhill and shot off the jump. It was after I got some serious air that I realized the jump sat a good ten feet above the landing. I flew about fifteen feet through the air and crumpled face first into the snow, losing my poles and skis to a full-on yard sale. Some kids on the chairlift howled encouragement. I smiled.

When I met back up with my parents they were talking about seeing this one kid bite it off a jump. I said that was me. They looked at me funny. People have looked at my funny ever since.