sábado, novembro 15, 2008
Foto roubada na cara dura do sempre la, surfline.
[Professional surfing is a weird thing. Especially in Hawaii where it’s regarded as an upper echelon sport by both her locals and the tourists that come here. But the NFL, it is not, and it never gets old when watching the folks that didn’t get that memo. “Who would have thought?” thinks the middle-aged Midwestern lady with the floral print shirt and oversized hat. “The nice young surfer boy that I just saw surf the swells went and peed in the same public restroom as I did.” At the same time, small herds of Brazilian girls in butt floss nestle conveniently in front of the competitor’s area, flashing scandalous smiles way too often. The announcers misidentify surfers in the water regularly or miss their waves completely — but nobody notices. A soundtrack of 12 really bad pop sounds repeats every hour during the awkward silent moments between commentary — but nobody cares. Even the surfers themselves are an odd bunch…what professional athlete slams a pint of Rockstar before heading out to compete? But nobody questions.
Except me, I guess.]
Senhoras e senhores, conheçam Andrew Lewis.
Leiam o resto aqui.