Oh, I'm not supposed to value the Carabao?
In English, 'Carabao,' if you split the word, it's Care About. And that's what we're doing here. We're caring about.
guehi’s homophobia is sabotaging our backline. we need the homosexual togetherness that arsenal’s back four has. that’s when we start the title charge.
Although really trying to beat Man City with Arsenal top of the league is just another example of Frank not understanding the club. Could be the final nail
Guy at work farted in the office so bad that we all cleared out and when we had a meeting about how people need to go outside to fart from here on, absolutely nobody laughed or even smiled. It was a fart so bad it made the entire concept of farts unfunny for all of us
I had a crazy client today:
My head was splitting this morning. Too many spicy margs at the Moose.
My client is "Brad." Private equity, NYC. He shows up late, yelling at his assistant on the phone, and snaps his fingers at me to carry his skis. He’s wearing a heated vest and brand new Kastles, but is already complaining about the grooming report before we even made it out!!!
First thing he says to me: "I didn't hire you for pizza-french-fry bullshit. I ski Chamonix and Aspen. I’m paying for line cutting and steep terrain. Do not mollycoddle me or I’m getting you fired."
He then proceeded to make a really gross comment about the teenage girl working the lift ticket scanner. Just a total piece of shit.
We pack into the Tram. Big Red is crowded. Brad is literally shoving locals with his elbows to get a window spot. He turns to me and says, loud enough for the whole car to hear, "So, do you have a real job in the summer or do you just mooch off unemployment?"
We get to the top of Rendezvous. Visibility is garbage.
"Alright Brad," I say. "You said you want the steeps? You said don't baby you?"
"Give me the scariest thing on this hill,"
I lead him straight to the edge of Corbet’s Couloir.
"This is the entrance," I yell over the wind. "Since you ski Chamonix, this should be a warm-up."
He looks over the cornice. It’s a 20-foot freefall into a 40-degree chute (particularly icy today).
"Where's the ramp?" he asks.
"Ramp's for tourists, Brad. You said no mollycoddling."
I don't wait. I hop turn, send the drop, stick the landing in the soft stuff, and rip giant GS turns all the way down to the Tensleep traverse.
I stop and look up. Through the fog, I see a red speck frozen at the lip. He’s side-stepping back up the ridge and blocking the drop-in for three Teton Gravity Research guys who are filming. They are screaming at him.
I skied straight to the Village Cafe. I’m currently on my third slice of pizza and drinking a pitcher of PB while writing this.
Hope you've having a powder day - JH is great at the moment, despite some rude clients!
Corbet's Couloir pic attached
I had a crazy client today:
My head was splitting this morning. Too many spicy margs at the Moose.
My client is "Brad." Private equity, NYC. He shows up late, yelling at his assistant on the phone, and snaps his fingers at me to carry his skis. He’s wearing a heated vest and brand new Kastles, but is already complaining about the grooming report before we even made it out!!!
First thing he says to me: "I didn't hire you for pizza-french-fry bullshit. I ski Chamonix and Aspen. I’m paying for line cutting and steep terrain. Do not mollycoddle me or I’m getting you fired."
He then proceeded to make a really gross comment about the teenage girl working the lift ticket scanner. Just a total piece of shit.
We pack into the Tram. Big Red is crowded. Brad is literally shoving locals with his elbows to get a window spot. He turns to me and says, loud enough for the whole car to hear, "So, do you have a real job in the summer or do you just mooch off unemployment?"
We get to the top of Rendezvous. Visibility is garbage.
"Alright Brad," I say. "You said you want the steeps? You said don't baby you?"
"Give me the scariest thing on this hill,"
I lead him straight to the edge of Corbet’s Couloir.
"This is the entrance," I yell over the wind. "Since you ski Chamonix, this should be a warm-up."
He looks over the cornice. It’s a 20-foot freefall into a 40-degree chute (particularly icy today).
"Where's the ramp?" he asks.
"Ramp's for tourists, Brad. You said no mollycoddling."
I don't wait. I hop turn, send the drop, stick the landing in the soft stuff, and rip giant GS turns all the way down to the Tensleep traverse.
I stop and look up. Through the fog, I see a red speck frozen at the lip. He’s side-stepping back up the ridge and blocking the drop-in for three Teton Gravity Research guys who are filming. They are screaming at him.
I skied straight to the Village Cafe. I’m currently on my third slice of pizza and drinking a pitcher of PB while writing this.
Hope you've having a powder day - JH is great at the moment, despite some rude clients!
Corbet's Couloir pic attached
I love how milk is so alive it’s almost schizophrenic. Put some cultures in and it yogurtfies. Add some acid, you’ve got cheese. Hundred of types of cheese based on just waiting times. Insane. Cook it and it caramelizes into thick nectar. Steam it and a cappuccino is born.
Ice cream. Sweetened condensed. Goat milk. Sour cream. Heavy cream. Raw. Buttermilk. Powdered milk. Milk chocolate.
We love milk so much we speak about percentages of it, like gold carats.
Milk is foundational. Biblical. Something maternal and natural and feminine about it. Milk is alive