Sking

Skiing is hard. Skiing is hard and dangerous. Therefore, skiing is perfect. Thanks to an ingenious plan hatched by Kim in the comment section of my last post I had finally hatched a way out of bridge inspections for the next three months. Having never skied before, hurtling down a mountain on a sheet of ice was a sure fire way for me to sustain an injury serious enough to keep me confined to my awesome desk with my work bff, the internet. Everything was set up perfectly. We had a sweet house on the lake, everyone was having a great time, I got pretty drunk the night before so the hangover was throwing my ski game off a little bit. Even my right boot was too small resulting in intense arch pain most of the day. I was certain to fly off the side of a mountain and break a bone. It was going to be awesome. There’s only one thing that wasn’t factored in, my superior athleticism. I forgot that I’m money at most things I try*. I had a rough start but by the end of the day I was kicking ass. Skiing is totally easy, it was really a forgone conclusion. Dammit, I can’t even suck at something right. I was pissed. And you’re reading comprehension is not off, I’m might be the only person you’ll ever here express disappointment in not breaking a bone. Now I have to work outside dodging pigeon shit for the next three months. It’s going to suck.

This creates an interesting anomaly that is my life, my friends were kind of enough to point this out for me. How is it that I’m pretty good at most everything I try, and yet suck at life as a whole? Is that even possible? Apparently it is.

There is one great thing that came out the weekend. Most of the car ride up, because I’m super arrogant, I keep telling everyone how easy skiing is and how awesome I was going to be. It got to the point were a lot of people were eagerly anticipating see me fail. They would’ve taken a lot of pleasure in watching me fall on my ass all day. They were pretty pissed I was good. It was great. It almost made pigeon turds and sucking at life tolerable for a few hours.



*Except golf. Golf confounds me. Why is it that I can (could) hit a ball hurled at me at 80-90 mph but I can’t hit a stationary one sitting right in front of me? It might be the most frustrating thing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve been to a driving range 3 times. My best golf shot ever, one of the few times I’ve actually made solid contact, was when I threw a ball up in the air and swung away. I suck at golf. It’s killing my ass kissing ability with my bosses.