We picked these up yesterday at the swap meet. Two for a buck. Heaven.

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Ryno Week came to an end today, quietly, with little to no fanfare. Basically none.

Let’s just say that the sonofabitch used up his allotted amount of “Ryno Points” well before the slated departure date.

Usually, I can only hack the sumbitch for about three good days, and then, I want to kill him, or, knock out a couple more of his teeth.

So, we had a good run this time. Lasted about seven days, and then, due to professional obligations, Fink issues and Gary time, I had to pawn the horse thief off on Kurtie.

Anyway, have a good trip back to Minneapolis, you prick.

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The Snowboard mag crew is assembling up in Whistler right now. All of them. Big plans. Lots of cylinders firing.

What part of, “I’m not fucking coming up there…” don’t you snowcones understand?

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Fink left early this morning to get back to the loving arms of L.M. He might be missed. Maybe not. We had a nice supper with Seaone last night, talking shit and eating burgers down the street a spell. Tucker rounded off the night with a visit and a cold Tecate. Thanks. Sandy Boulevard, Represent.

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Gotta get the house cleaned up with a focused spitshine, and man, we are going to roll up the sleeves and kick the week’s ass. Really.