Well. Yeti don't glimmer. But then, you only really spot them in the distance. Particularly after a cold day of boarding and booze. Yes, we hit it. We hit the sauce hard, but then, we lived hard. I give no justice to drinking like we did in a normal life. You have anybody making jumps 40 feet high onto a sheen of ice that's not called a crimson grind for giggly shitfest, however, and they're not guilty.
Elysium is what we like to think of as. Well. Its like your old high-school gym where you broke your ankle. Does that help ?
Its like thanksgiving. Turkey day. Triptophen. Old friends, and dangers around every curve. At least thats what Mac says Thanksgiving is like. But then Elise says his thanksgiving consists of sodomizing a dead bird with bread stuffing.
I retorted that I'd been raised on Blood Pudding, among other things, so there was really nothing wrong with that.
Mac says its like Thanksgiving. I can't remember it without wincing. Unlike the rightous third place it now occupies on our Tricky Circuit, three seasons in, The original Season of SSX had the bone knawing rightous bitch of a mountain as a second course. I know it seems inane and out of it to say, mates...
But we've got it easy in Tricky.
I dunno. Maybe it's me experience to it all.
Rahzel didn't know what this race was gonna be like, but he played it up well enough. I never met the guy, actually... I wonder if he doesn't exist anymore. Oh well.
So as my estimed... Ah hell. As the other boarders jumped off the plane, I walked through it slowly. I wasn't about ready to smack her ass yet, but I was getting close. There's a fine line between nice freindship without flirting and heavy flirting to lip-locking to other things.
'Ey, You. Punk. Your underage. Give this back to your older brother and get back to trying to pilfer his pulps from 'is pillow.
I was hungry. There was Crapes. You know, there's not much more to be said about that.
It's rumored that I'm a bulimic, but really I've got a metabolism that makes me bounce. I was hungry. Coffee had pumped me up, but nothing beat Crapes.
You don't live in France for a month and not get onto crapes. Well, with that delectable fluffy crispy content.... oh right.
We jumbled into the center room of the townhouse. JP called his family and cursed at them. Apparently this was to let them know he was home. JP has had some problems. Probably why he turned out to be such a mean little bugger. Still. JP loves to show off. Showing off means Cognac instead of Brandy. Etc.
He had to show us the best restaurant he knew off, the owner who had apparently taken his brand of ruffiandry light-heartedly and saved JP's honor. That would also explain the remodeling that was why it was just now told to us.
I. Love. the place. French people don't know steaks ? Oh no ? French people don't know proper proportions, but they know steaks. mm. The Cow could have been complaining out back, it was so fresh and tender. Another great thing about it was it was on the slope. The row of restaurants and bars lined the slope. The bars were across the street, in front of a hotel that lined a ridge, with a cul-de-sac running up the back of the mountain. We all ate the late lunch, ambled around the back, and ended up renting some cheap equipment from the hotel, gliding down the side of the mountain. Once there we just shackled ourselves to the mega lift that rose us 2000 feet in the air, coming to our "Home" for the SSX season, the private home's rented out from the Arsenault dynasty.
But enough about food.
Onto the Elysium Race.