Vicious Disclaimer:

This “Archives” section is HEAVILY UNDER CONSTRUCTION, so if you dig around in these old draplin.com blog posts, understand that MANY of the links are broken, and have been broken for years. Our hope is that the archived posts look like the original post, respecting the aesthetics of the old post, but there was just no way to go and update all the old links. Click lightly, people.

Best Viewed on Desktop Computer.

Trust me.

Monthly Archives

Search Result

Happy "Dirty Thirty" to

June 13, 2003

Happy “Dirty Thirty” to Pat “the eYe” Bridges. Not much more to say about this guy that hasn’t already been said on the deck of some halfpipe, or around fireplace of some ski chalet. We put a call in to the SNOWBOARDER Magazine headquarters earlier today to wish Pat some “Big Three Oh” cheer. As always, he was in high spirits, sounding all regal and shit on the phone, “I’m on my way up to Mammoth. Gonna get some riding in this weekend.” is what he had to say. We hope he has a good weekend up there.

That invert-doin’ motherfucker holds a high-ranking slot on the DDC Pro Team, for life.

- - - -

Rose turned 30 a month back. Not much took place. Campbell hit it back in April. Snell hit it years ago. Chief, shit, he looks 40! Jay Floyd, that sonofabitch, hits the big 33 tomorrow. Man, the years have took their toll on him.

(By the way, the photo above features Pat getting a big grizzly bear hug from Melissa. Hell, If I didn’t have her locked down, I have a feeling she’d pursue any one of my brothers.)

- - - -

I’ve got a good four months to go and I’ll hit the feared “30” plateau. I’m not gonna take it easy, either. The times fly by. I still feel young. I find myself wondering where the years went. Why worry? Futile. Did I make good use of my days up to this point? I look back at the people/place/good times/bad times and it all computes into one big ball of wax. A good one. Very thankful.

Facts are stubborn things: The times goes by, and there ain’t a fuckin’ thing you can do about it.

Either you do it right and hold yer head high, or you half-ass it and put the sobering realization–way back in a corner of yer empty head–that at some point you’ll look back and feel regret over wasted years.

Thirty. I guess you can look at it a couple ways:

1. Now what? I made it! A new decade. 10 new years ahead of me. Adults! Almost halfway to callin’ it quits!
2. Now what? I’m finished. I’m fucked. I’m old. I’m over. I’m over it.

Little bit dramatic, I know, I know. I spent the last ten years wondering if the 30 number was gonna be the end of it all. Bullshit. I look forward to it. Bring it on.

Daily