The workweek to came to a welcomed end today. The winters list of magazine projects is behind me. The first products are starting to filter in, little rewards, little reminders of that hectic file you sent off a week ago. Y’know, you complete it and pass it off and you move onto the next. All the drama and shit involved gets erased once the piece is finished. Delivery time: the printerman brings it in. Much like a proud father I hold the piece and reflect on its conception. Uh, yeah.

So I extremely relieved to have all of this behind me. I started the celebration a little early today with a plane ticket reservation. I fly out of Orange County next friday up to Vancouver. Make a little pitstop in Frisco on the way up too. I’m going riding with the dudes from the magazine. Whistler, British Columbia!

Dudes: The mag’s crew is holed up real good. We have an official “magazine staff compound.’ in full operation. They’ve all been up there for a good month or so. So I’m gonna join ‘em for 12 days of snowboarding, sleeping inn, chowing, fightin’, brainstormin’ and other unmentionables.

All I’m gonna have to worry about is being a dude. No freeways. No concerned girlfriends. No parole officers. Nothing. Just a bunch dudes bein’ real fassy.

Fass is dude word. Fass is a macho word. Fass is the real thing. Fass is a special word conjured up on a Jackson Hole Hellride a good 3 years back in the company of Embry Rucker, Tony Mancino, Jason Mcalister, Jeff Mollencop and Jason Shurtz. Good crew, ugly hotel room.

Here’s why: “Fass” means: “feet” and “ass”, all in one word. A gamey, putrid combination of man’s excretion arts best experienced after long days on either: 1. The road, 2. The hill, 3. A train in Alaska.

Gonna spend some time bein’ fassy with the dudes. You bet. Lookin’ forward to bein’ with the team, representing Snowboarder Magazine’s “finer points.”