I’m not an athlete.  I’ll come straight up and say it here because its true.  If you were to give me a baseball or a basketball, I would probably look at it and be like: “Why did you just give me a baseball or a basketball?” (Oh, damn.  That was the most fantastic sentence you have ever written.  And it made sense.  Sarcasm.)  However, there is one sport that I am a natural at: skiing.  When people see me flying down the mountain, they either faint from an overdose of swag or they call their friends to tell them that they have just seen God.  Seriously, it happens.  (No it doesn’t. Excuse me.  You’re imaginary.  I leave you at home when I ski.  You get locked in the closet. True.)  Actually, as I write this, I am on a skiing vacation in Colorado, in Beaver Creek.  It has not gone as planned.  I wasn’t able to ski for two days because the resort was closed.  Supposedly, they had received thousands of reports of large quantities of swag overtaking the mountain.  It was a shame.  In all seriousness, I’m not that great at skiing.  I mean, I do go on blacks and stuff (Racist.) but I’m not an expert.  I don’t go on jumps because I’m too afraid, I don’t go to the terrain park because I’m too nervous about what the snowboarders think of me, and I don’t go to the bathrooms because I’m scared of the diseases that I could contract.  That basically sums up my skiing experience.  Now if you’ll excuse me, the National Swag Association is here to test me to see if I was the source of the situation on the mountain.  I’ll try and play it off, but they aren’t stupid.  I’m obviously the culprit.


About julian822

This blog is informal to say the least. It's almost like an online journal, filled with stories that I find funny, interesting things/links and anything else that comes to my mind. Enjoy.
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One Response to Skiing

  1. norm says:

    Hi, I’m with the Nat. Swag Ass.

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