They call it Snowblading

I don't know about you people out there, but today I'm going snow skiing! Yeah! Heading to West Virginia to hit the slopes in Style. But I won't be using skies this time, and unlike my friends I won't be trying the snowboard: I'm gona go snowblading! (snow blades are those very short skies that have the shape of a Coca-Cola bottle, or the shape of a girl if you prefer, and don't require poles).

I was thinking about trying the snowboard this time, and for weeks I pictured myself going down those black diamonds with my two feet attached to that board, but the moment I walked into the rental place I changed my mind. I had like a divine intervention, a voice that whispered in my ear "go for the blades dude" while my friends were protesting my change of heart.

Oh, and my so-called friends; the ones I'm hanging out with today: they've never skied before, ever, and they're gona try the snowboard head-on. You'd think that they like to take risks, but the truth of the matter is that they're not very clever. For instance, they believe that you can put the snowboard under your arm and catch the lift. . . and that if you ask nicely, you could ride the lift back to the base of the mountain. I did my part explaining how things work once you're there, but they think they can bend the rules. We'll see. You either have your skies/snowblades/snowboard attached firmly to your feet or your going no where in that lift; and by the same token you can either ski down the mountain or fall down or crawl down, but you ain't ridding that shit back (it is technically impossible!).

So I don't know about you, and I really don't know about my skiing buddies. . . but I'm gona take this handsome 5'7 Latin Lover body I'm trapped in, and push it to the limit going down the mountain!

Cheers!