Monday, September 22, 2008

30 is the new 60

Back in March I visited my P.O. box daily, eagerly anticipating a flood of cards containing money, checks, and "a little something" to commemorate that most monumental of birthdays, the 30th.

Sure, I got some bucks. But I also got this sharp kick to the shins:














I'm not really sure if I can say much more. It's old news, sure. But then again, apparently, so am I.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

"he did this."

Tromping through and disfiguring, rather than following in, Gore's footsteps: Ladies and gentlemen, John McCain, inventor of the Internet BlackBerry.

Friday, August 22, 2008

giving myself the finger

I've been having a fantastic time crashing my mountain bike lately. In the span of four days I've managed to costume the right side of my body as a Kaleidescope of Ow: minor hematoma on the kneecap, chain-ring swipes on the calf, the rumblings of a grapefruit-sized bruise on the hip, and various other bloody scrapes in the shapes of rocks and sticks. Did I mention the exfoliating power of volcanic pumice? The trophy boo-boo of the week, however -- a jammed middle finger now swollen to the dimensions of a Lil' Smokie, and approximately the same shade -- I earned on a ride two days ago whilst poaching the Mammoth Mountain Bike Park.*

Thursday, August 14, 2008

nbc? try "wtf?"

Candid photos of athletes in less-than-flattering poses mid-play? I get that. In fact, I believe an entire DVD empire has been built on such unintentional farce. But for this, NBC's sports desk ought be forced to relinquish their Olympic press credentials and relocate their offices to Maxim HQ, where they can swap fart jokes, make loud announcements about "the tits on that new chick in HR!", and generally wax misogynistic to their hearts' content.

Seriously, where's the gallery of the U.S. Men's Olympic Swim Team with their Speedos up their asses?

Thursday, August 7, 2008

trolleys and trails

This past Monday, I took part in something I'd never before experienced: an all-girl mountain bike ride. Thanks to the efforts of the dudes at Footloose Sports here in Mammoth -- yes, dudes...no women in the bike shop yet -- a gang of local ladies were treated to Trolleys and Trails: a shuttle up to Minaret Vista, your choice of a road, beginner MTB, or advanced MTB guided ride back to the shop, and on-trail instruction from Footloose employees along the way. Post-ride, a magnificent array of cheeses, fruit, crackers, and -- oh, yes -- wine awaited the hungry pack. You should see the pictures.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

here's what a little public speaking gets you

me2.jpgA while back, I wrote a short column expressing my incredible appreciation for these two girls in Pembroke, MA, who'd successfully petitioned their local Board of Selectmen (Town Council, basically) to build a skatepark in their town (written also to acknowledge the sense of the original article's writer in not gushing about the petitioners being female). Well, slap me silly and call me Susan -- those two articulate and passionate young ladies have one-upped themselves.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

extra! extra! read all about it...eventually

newsboy.jpgI've scribbled before about how I slog through 389789020924 stories a day to keep the GLTR news section fresh. What I may not have disclosed, but you've probably noticed, however, is that most teasers on our site have been edited to highlight the lady-related bits. Once you click through to the actual article, this info is likely to be buried near the end. And the chances of the woman in question's name showing up in the "real" headline probably ain't so good. Contest wrap-ups are the worst offenders -- you're usually clobbered by descriptions of Ricky Ripper's super-sick winning run from the headline through the first eight paragraphs before Rita Ripper's mere presence at the event is acknowledged.

the internets is a thicket of distraction

istock_concert-crowd.jpgThis is why I couldn't write my column this week.

This is the other reason.

Starsky Communication Dynasty, anyone?

P.S. You've bookmarked this already, right? Okay, good.

clothes horses, yes. clothes hangers, no more.

Photo: Reuters, via ibtimes.com        
A week-and-a-half ago, I had oral surgery. Groggy from the IV drip, I blurrily scanned my post-op directions as my dude prepared to drive us two-and-a-half farm-filled hours back to Mammoth from Carson City. (See, we have a hospital here, and a dentist or two, and a robust physical therapy clinic where you can rehab every broken piece of your park-beaten kneecap, but you're sort of out of luck if you need glasses, or braces, or your gums sawed open in the name of periodontics.) Apparently, I was to stick to a strict diet of smoothies, soup, and protein shakes for the next week, so as not to disturb the very delicate nature of my fresh wound.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

reunited, and it feels so good.

chicken-jam-08.jpgAfter two weeks of knitting my brows over one injustice or another, I'm kinda worked. Good thing one of my favorite occasions in snowboarding rescued me from a run of the mean reds this weekend: The Contest.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

our top(less) story tonight

newspaper3.JPGAs editorial director of this fine online publication, it's my job (and pleasure) to scour headlines. Every day, I filter through scores of stories and select which bits make it to the GLTR News section. Keyword searches make this task a fair bit easier than it sounds; type in "women's action sports" or "girls' surfing" and an avalanche of results rumbles forth. Most of these articles are relevant, even interesting. Sometimes, however, the mighty power of the Boolean search fails me and turns up something so confounding, I contemplate reenacting that scene in Garden State where they scream into the chasm.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

30 is a number you can say with your teeth clenched

Part of living in a ski town is watching the annual October influx of eager young things parade into your ZIP code with shred-sticks in their hands, mountain-job season passes on lock, and a telling lack of sun damage. Though I’ve been in the mountains only a couple of years, I got here kinda late, so maybe I notice the under-25 set more readily than I would have if I’d been part of it when I moved here. Regardless, there’s a seasonal moment that never fails to smack of Matthew McConaughey’s oft-quoted line in Dazed and Confused: “I get older, they stay the same age.”

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

two birds, one stone.

I'm all about recycling. especially my own verbiage. this here's a reprint from my alter ego at girlslearntoride.com. Get used to it.

me1.jpgHello. Welcome to what will hopefully become a regular letter from the editor(ial director).
Though I often kick myself for not blathering pontificating here more often, I was inspired this morning to put down the coffee and type some. In an age-old show of DIY spunk, two eighth-grade girls in Pembroke, MA, took it upon themselves last week to approach their local Board of Selectmen (i.e. elected officials) with a proposal to build a new skatepark in their town. (You can read the story here. Make sure you peruse the entertaining comments from the readers.)