teletubby-warrior
Da Superfan
The 17th annual X Games have come and gone. The competition, as usual, was totally fucking badass to the Xtreme. There was a plethora of the 3 things I love and admire most- sick jumps, gnarly tricks, and hella energy drink advertising. Locking myself in my roommate?s bedroom for the entirety of the weekend with nothing more than my trusty flat-brimmed hat, a case of Four Loko, and a pack of cigarettes I stole from my grandmother, I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of X Games 17.
One moment in particular, however, really caught my attention. As I regained consciousness for the second time, a new event called Moto X Enduro Women?s flashed across the screen. After a few minutes of careful deciphering, I discovered this was actually Women?s Motocross Endurance Racing. At first, I was a bit angry I had been forced to use context clues for the first time since 4th grade. Then, after vomiting a rainbow of caffeine and alcohol, I realized it was a pretty freaking awesome name and all grievances were forgotten.
Anyway, my world was literally and figuratively blown as I witnessed woman after woman brave a brutal course, seemingly built to painfully highlight their clear inadequacies in motor skills, balance, and sense of direction. I was so inspired by this showing, I vowed to try really, really hard to be motivated about something other than Xtreme sports and salads with tons of those awesome crunchy croutons.
Watch below as these tenacious women act as our little determined Virgils, totally guiding us through the Ramp of Depression, the Rocks of Hatred, the Pond of Acceptance, and the Logs of Futility:
Fuck yeah, Maria. You hung in there like that cat. You know, the one on the posters. No, not Garfield. Nevermind.
One moment in particular, however, really caught my attention. As I regained consciousness for the second time, a new event called Moto X Enduro Women?s flashed across the screen. After a few minutes of careful deciphering, I discovered this was actually Women?s Motocross Endurance Racing. At first, I was a bit angry I had been forced to use context clues for the first time since 4th grade. Then, after vomiting a rainbow of caffeine and alcohol, I realized it was a pretty freaking awesome name and all grievances were forgotten.
Anyway, my world was literally and figuratively blown as I witnessed woman after woman brave a brutal course, seemingly built to painfully highlight their clear inadequacies in motor skills, balance, and sense of direction. I was so inspired by this showing, I vowed to try really, really hard to be motivated about something other than Xtreme sports and salads with tons of those awesome crunchy croutons.
Watch below as these tenacious women act as our little determined Virgils, totally guiding us through the Ramp of Depression, the Rocks of Hatred, the Pond of Acceptance, and the Logs of Futility:
Fuck yeah, Maria. You hung in there like that cat. You know, the one on the posters. No, not Garfield. Nevermind.
Oh God, you're killing me!