Chocolate chip theivery

This is your Christmas post for the year, so let Bolts of Thunder wish all of you a very warm Merry Christmas!!! So this last week I was reminded of a funny incident when I was a child. I don't know if I've told other members of my family, so this might be the first time they've heard this story. But it wouldn't shock any of them, that's for sure...

The worth of chocolate to a child is equivalent to the worth of gold to an adult. That being said, you could imagine my thrill as a 10 year old when I stumbled upon a couple gallon container filled to the brim and overflowing with chocolate chips. My mom had obviously found them on clearance at Price Club and had stocked up on them. A couple years worth of chocolate chip cookies right there. She hadn't anticipated on her kids snooping around in the walk-in pantry, so they were not too heavily guarded or hidden. I found them during a game of hide n seek, and I had been staking out in the pantry for quite some time. I guess I got a little curious... So I opened this container, found the chocolate chips, and knew right then that the universe wanted me to find those chocolate chips. Not wanting to offend the universe, and figuring nobody would notice if a handful or two were missing from the pot, I helped myself to a few healthy servings of chocolate chips. More than a few. I went crazy. Not wanting others to discover them and consequently having to share with others, I hid the chocolate chips and decided to come back later for more. Over the next week, I made frequent visits to the pantry where I locked myself in the dark, quickly shoved handfuls of chocolate chips in my mouth, dropping a few on the ground in my haste, and getting out of there before anyone could find me. I remember playing legos with Matt one time in our room, telling him I had to do something downstairs, running down there to help myself to a handful of chocolate chips, then coming back without saying anything to Matt. Or this other one time someone walked through the kitchen when I was in the pantry, and I prayed they wouldn't open the door on my. And let me tell you, that little boys prayers were answered that day.... I remember thinking to myself as I walked out of the pantry, checking to make sure the coast was clear, "why do I got to such risks to eat chocolate?" But it didn't matter. It was too late. I was addicted.

You'd be surprised how fast a big bucket of chocolate chips can get eaten by a 10 year old. I seriously ate about half that bucket in a weeks time. We're talking the equivalent of 10+ bags of chocolate chips. Man, I feel so ashamed writing this right now... This story is all too familiar. One time I ate an entire jar of marshmallow cream while hiding in the pantry (I found it after I found the chocolate chips. The chocolate made me curious as to what other goodies I might find in the pantry. I stumbled upon a jar of marshmallow cream. Yeah, that stuff comes in jars). I felt really guilty after but lacked the courage to turn myself in. So I simply put the empty bottle of marshmallow cream back into the pantry hoping the whole thing would just blow over. It didn't. My mom found it a couple days later and has refused to let the issue drop since then. My Christmas present from her last year was an empty jar of marshmallow cream in some sort of act of strange, cynical payback. Anyway, chocolate chips.

So I finally had to come to terms with my addiction and stop eating them. I decided to go into the pantry one last time for a good bye session of chocolate chip snack down, but my mom must have picked up my sent and moved the bucket somewhere else where I couldn't find them. I was so sad and relieved at the same time that I didn't have to eat that chocolate anymore. But that's when I discovered the marshmallow cream...

I don't know why I've decided to share this story, but I did mention Christmas in it, so there's my tie-in. But I will be honest in saying that I try to share now. Much more than I ever did then at least... Merry Christmas!

AJ's skate park edit

Disclaimer: While this video does, indeed, feature members of Bolts of Thunder, this is not a Bolts of Thunder Lucas Art production. Any opinions or views expressed therein are not representative of Bolts of Thunder and its affiliated subsidiaries.

Happy Birthday

Bolts of Thunder would like to wish a very happy birthday to two of Bolts of Thunder's hall of famers, Nick and Dan!!!! It was Nick's birthday yesterday and Dan's today. I don't even know when Dave's birthday is... Dave, when's your birthday? And I call myself a friend... In memory of our two shirtless crusaders, I've got some of my favorite pictures of each, including the Nickcentric Universe (which, in my theory, explains a lot of mysterious roof-hopping skills and front rocks in unfriendly ditches) and the meanest Dan Eastwood snarl you're ever going to see. The rest is exactly what you'd expect: Dan catching airs and grabbing his board whilst demonstrating the power of Shaw DNA and Nick finding himself between a rail and a hard spot and grinding his way through. Happy birthday, guys!!!

Take that finger and stick it some place else!

I had no idea that 7 year old girls could be so detrimental to one's confidence. But in reality, they're probably the most detrimental of all demographics. Just ask Matt about being tormented by these seemingly harmless first graders as he tried to sell them reasonably priced ice cream. Don't get me started, or I'll tell Matt's ice cream man story again... So we were skating a week or so ago, and these two little girls walking down the sidewalk flipped me off after I apologized to them for startling them as me and Zak rode by to film a line. It was truly a sad moment in my life to see such innocence trampled on by middle fingers in an act of pure, unadulterated revenge. But so you know, whoever you are you little 7 year old girls, you'll never break, never break, never break, never break... this heart of stone.

To lighten up your winter day, let Matt smile at you as he reminds you that yes, he has graduated from college.

Oldie but Greatie

Before viewer ratings drop significantly, I thought I'd put something up. This is an oldie but a greatie. A classic Matt, Nick, Jon, and scooter combo is something to be treasured. Nobody would know it, but Matt put his life at great risk to get this picture. That little scooter kid is just a random kid that we met at the park that day, and he is directly over Matt's head. I don't know why we even thought of letting the kid jump over Matt that way, but Matt held the  pose perfectly every try, then let out in horror after the kid landed.

So this picture was pretty hard to get. These were the days before smart phones were really smart at all, and Nick had a camera on his phone. But it was the unpredictable kind that had like a 3 or 4 second delay on it. So we kept trying to take the picture, but the kid was long gone by the time the camera even took anything. We had to measure the kid's speed, the camera's delay, add some wind variation and what not in there, and we discovered that if Nick pushed the camera button when the kid had ridden about a foot down the bank on the other side of this launch, the camera would take the picture at just the right moment. It finally worked, and this wonderful piece of art and memory is the direct result of hard work, planning, and perseverance. Three principles that are fairly new to Bolts of Thunder but might prove useful at times... I would like to end this post by drawing attention to Matt's controlled facial expression while unproven aggression floats hazardously overhead. The sign of a true master.

Words of wisdom from a wise man

"So I've been reading your Bolts of Thunder blog man. I hereby ordain you, master story teller of the universe."        - Kieth Birkett

Game Changer

So I've got some strange news for you all. Apparently this blog has a limit of how many pictures I can add, and I've hit that limit. So I won't be able to add anything new to it unless I pay money, and we all know that that's never going to happen. So I've put up a couple pictures that have already made their way onto this blog. So I'm not quite sure what to do, but I'm thinking of starting a new blog where I can keep putting up pictures for free. But I don't know, and I guess we'll just see.

Also, I'm still in the process of moving in to my new place and getting used to American food, so I haven't been writing much. When I'm not so busy digesting processed foods or moving boxes around, I'll start writing more. Just to give you fair warning that I might not be writing much in the next little bit. But then again, what do I owe anyone? Absolutely nothing. So consider every post from here on out a gift, a gift that should be cherished with your entire being...

Deal with it

Yeah, that's right, I don't write as much as you want me to. Deal with it. Good news. We have a Bolts of Thunder skate session set for this weekend. There's even talks of cameras being present, which we all know means one thing. A Bolts of Thunder video in the works... maybe just maybe. Pictures and comments to follow soon.

The boys are back in town

Today I have set my first steps on American soil in 3 months! Now that I'm not in Italy, I miss the place. Especially the food. If there's one thing Italians know, it's their food. If there's one thing they don't, it's their driving. They sick at driving. Real bad... Anyway, this post is a round up call to all thunder bolts. The boys are back in town, and we're hitting the streets hard. Pictures to come soon...

Momma, momma I'm comin home...

I haven't much time... We'll just say that Italian internet isn't the friendliest, and I've got to get this post up before the internet decides it's worked enough today. Folks, I just got back from Rome. To put it in words that you'll understand best, I like to think my reaction to Rome was not much unlike the Fellowship's reaction when they reached mines of Moria; the feeling of being so little and insignificant in the sight of such grandness, tired at the thought of walking so much, a perpetual feeling of hunger, and maybe a little afraid of someone following me. Going into the Pantheon was especially like when the fellowship entered the realm of the kingdom of Moria. You know, the part with all the columns, and Gilmly of Gloin sees the open door that has the tomb of Barum. Come on, you know what scene I'm talking about! That scene, that's what it was like for me going into the Pantheon. Amazing stuff. But I think I've gotten all or more of the mileage I ever should have out of my analogy, so I'll stop there. Suffice it to say, Rome is amazing.

So I'm going back to Provo this week! That's right, my Italian adventure has come to an end. I even gave my skateboard to Francesco, the 12 year old ripper here in Siena, which means I'm ready to go home and hook up a new board. So I'll be reuniting with the Bolts of Thunder crew there and we'll get working on our next project. See you in Utah!

Ninja instincts ready to burst

I saw this picture on my flash drive at work today. I forgot that I have a folder with a whole bunch of skating pictures on it, and I saw it earlier today. They're all older pictures, at least 2 years old. A bunch of stuff from the first Bolts of Thunder video, and even before. So this is a picture of Nick doing what Nicks do best. It represents times past, a time when skin was smoother, whiter, less wrinkled, and untainted by all the second hand smoking I'm doing these days. Man, if you could stop me from venting right now, I wouldn't do it. But you can't stop me, so I'm unleashing right now. Actually, partly unleashing. Every time I smell someone's cigarette that's getting wagged in my face I start swearing at them and Pulp Fiction Samuel L Jackson quoting scriptures while pointing a gun scenarios start running through my mind and I wonder how dangerous I'd be right now had I started/stuck with martial arts as a child. This picture represents a time of innocence, before I was consuming tons of smoke every day. Although I was in Geneva when Matt sent me this picture, so I was surely second hand smoking like a chimney then too... But still, this picture keeps that dream alive. The dream where people don't piss you off by blowing smoke in your face... My minds getting going right now and my heart rate is up. I'd better stop talking about people smoking...

Anyway, I wanted to put up this picture of Nick rockettering above the skyline. Or the coping line? I can't remember which. Not important. Let the ninja inside you go, Nick. Fly out of that coping...

Watch and tremble

What is that I hear you say? A possible trailer for another Bolts of Thunder video? I thought trilogies traveled in packs of 3?... When in Bolts of Thunder land, we do what we want... Here's a trailer this kid in Siena made of a skate session we had off a 2 stair. Epic.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pzfb_PbSs3w

An Eff word runs through it

That's right, I'm writing again today. I believe this is the first time in Italy that I've had more than one post a day in me, so consider this a special day. So if you haven't already read this morning's shocking post about our readers doping it up, make sure and read that. It's a game changer... I was going to write this later some time next week, but I need to get it out while it's still fresh in my mind. I don't want it to lose its flavor, its life, its essence. So I'm getting it out now. This is a story, children, a story of good versus evil, and quite possibly evil triumphing over good for a very short moment. Then lots and lots of laughter resulting from it. But I will tell you this, I never lost my cool. No, not once...

So what am I writing about? I'll tell you. Let me prep this by saying that swearing in another language does not have the same kick to it as swearing in your native language. When I hear someone swear out wrath and punishment in English, I hear all the meaning that comes with it. Hearing it in another language doesn't mean all that much. But hearing a foreigner that doesn't speak English swear in English is just hilarious. It sounds like a a three year old with a speech impediment and an old person's deep voice. It doesn't happen all that often that I hear old foreign people swearing in English, but when it comes out, I have to fight to keep back the laughter/tears. It's just too much for me...

With that little intro, let me recount my day at work yesterday. I've been working on writing this speech for the president of province's environmental and energy bureau for the past couple months. I've put a lot of time into it, and the president was finally reading the speech for the first time. I just wanted to see what he had to say so that I'd know how to change it or whatever, and I had been waiting for this meeting to happen for quite a while. So with a lot of anticipation and attention I was in this meeting, listening to a man that can't speak English read a pretty detailed summary of the province's energy situation in English. He would give comments on parts of the speech that he liked or didn't like, which would usually result in some long-winded tangent about how power points are not user friendly, which would lead to he and the secretary discussing the women's clothing that made the power point, which would result in him and them violently shaking their hands at each other in Italian fashion and yelling, "momma mia!" at each other (no joke, I'm not making that up. Every stereotype you've ever thought of Italians is completely true. They never let me down...). So this meeting had been going on for a while now, over an hour, and we were only like a third of the way through the speech. One comment led to a tangent which led to another, which led to the president of the bureau talking about how to translate the Italian expression for "come on!" So I told him how to say it. Then this is the conversation that ensued:

President (speaking in Italian) "Is there a lot of slang or expressions in English? There are so many in Italian."
Me: "Yeah, English is just like Italian, it has a lot of slang and expressions. But I hardly know any in Italian, just the common ones like 'mamma mia.'"
Pres: "If you want, I'll teach you some."
Me: "Alright!"
Pres: "Like this one, '(says something in Italian that I've never heard before)'"
Secretary: "NO! Don't teach him that one!!"
Me: "What?! What is it?"
Pres: "(speaks in English to me. Imagine old Italian smoking since he was 5 years old graspy voice and super strong accent. When I write him speaking in English, I'll add 'a' before and after most words because that's how they speak English. They add the little 'a'. Think Mario speaking from Super Mario Brothers) Isa aHowa aYoua saya in English....   ... aF***a  aYOUa!"
Me: .....
Pres: "Ia aSay  aGood? aF*** aYou?"
Secretary: "aF***a aYoua?"
Me: (not ever having had a local government leader say this to me, I'm not quite sure how to respond) "yeah... yeah, that's right."
Pres: "aF*** aYOUa!..... F*** YOU!"
Me: (considering whether or not he's really pissed at me and saying that for real or if he's just trying to brush up on his English) yeah... yeah, uhu, that's how you say it... yeah
Pres: (starring straight faced at me and looking deep into my eyes) "aF*** aYOUa!"
Me: ".... great... cool...."

I can't remember what it was, but something broke the dude's concentration. The conversation, by some strange miracle, ended up going back to the speech we were working on, and we plowed our way through. A long and painful hour later I told them that I had to get going, and I packed up my gear. Things were said in that meeting that cannot be erased; things were done that cannot be undone. Everything I have ever worked for is dead, everything that I have ever hoped for has vanished. I'm alone with myself, starved, naked, and trembling. Everything I've ever known converges into one, then an eff word runs through it. I'm haunted by eff words...

Are you not entershamed?

So I've been a little suspicious the last couple of years ever since Matt won our reader's choice awards for most preferred Bolts of Thunder member to be with on a desert island back last summer. Then Matt shocked the world again when he swept this years awards for the zombie apocalypse. I've never let the issue to rest, and this week I stumbled upon the truth that is going to shock the world...

You, the reader, have been doping!

That's right. You've been sucking brain juice out of your head and injecting it back into your brain to increase cerebral activity. If you hadn't been thinking straight, you would have chosen someone else to be on the island or in the zombie apocalypse with you... Like me... you would have chosen me. But due to your increased brain activity and your dendrites connecting faster than they naturally should, you saw through my facade  and you went with the wiser choice. Matt. But after seeing what happened to Lance Armstrong getting his metals taken away for doping, I've realized that the only right thing to do would be to strip Matt of his two titles and give them to the person that you would have chosen. Me.

So sorry, Matt, for having to do this to you publicly, but I'm now ripping the badges off your little Bolts of Thunder sash you've got draped over your shoulder, and I'm hot gluing them onto my sash. I now pronounce myself the Bolts of Thunder reader's choice award winner for most preferred Thunder Bolt to be with on a desert island or in the zombie apocalypse. It's too late for you to rebuttal, too, because I've already said the Bolts of Thunder law, motto, and oath (I just like to say it all at once as the mloath. You just chant 'what would Dan do? over and over in your head), and I've graciously accepted your votes for me. Thank you, readers, and sorry Matt, for doing this to you in such an unprofessional and unashamed manner.

AcroMattics

This is just a quick post to remind you all that my boy Matt still holds the record for most limber and equilibrium-inclined member of Bolts of Thunder, hands down. He could stand one legged on a half-inch diameter tree branch to get a good shot, and he did it for the love of the game. Just remember that, kids, when you're watching our great productions and thinking, "I want to be able to film like that one day." Dangerous stuff.

Drama

So a funny memory of skating with Dave at this park a couple weeks ago. We were skating this rail down a double set, and this local kid slammed pretty good trying to crooked grind it. It was more than your average fall, so it was in the slam category. I'd give it a 7 out of 10. You know the slam; he was going for a crooked grind, missed the rail all together and went straight down to his hip. So he slammed, and me and Dave waited at the top for the kid to eventually move out of the way so we could resume skating. But the kid didn't move. He kept lying on the ground and sort of slow wiggling. Now I've seen some hard slams in my day, and some of the very hardest I've ever seen are from Dave himself. Now this was not a slam to be overly concerned about. But the kid did a very good job of making it really dramatic. He gathered a crowd of sympathetic friends that helped the limping kid up and carried him off the park. Then Dave said, "leave it to a French kid to make such a scene. Now we're not tough guys or anything, but you or I would crawl out of the skatepark before we'd make such a big scene over a fall like that." Having seen Dave crawl of out bushes, not being able to breathe and possibly having broken a couple ribs, I know that he really meant it.

Anyway, I think one of the biggest things I'm going to miss about Europe (Italy/France) when I go back to Utah in a couple weeks is the drama. Everything that happens here is 10 times more epic and dramatic than it ever could be in America. I constantly think people are yelling and fighting with each other when they're just talking about the weather. The smallest things get totally blown out of proportion, and everything is such a big deal. It could be really annoying if it wasn't just so funny. So thank you, skatepark kid, for setting the example of the drama that exists in Europe these days. My life hasn't been dramatic enough lately, and I need a little fun every now and then.

Your inspiring energy drink commercial for the week

"Thunder Juice gives me 10 hours of energy and brings my standing heart rate up to 100 beats per minute!" - Dave McDonald, Thunder Juice addict

Random spot

That's not really a 5-0 in the last picture, it's just me coming off the ledge. The funny thing about this spot is the ledge up against the wall is waxed and has been skated. But right across the street there's this perfect granite ledge that you can grind or do slides on, and me and Dave were the first people to ever skate it. Whoever skated this ledge against the wall failed to recognize the miles of flat bars that are right down the street bordering the park, and the granite ledge right across the street. It was always like that when I was in Geneva; these perfect spots I'd find had never been touched while alright spots were the most popular ones.

I guess I really don't have much else to say other than that. Due to bad weather, I haven't skated in a week. But it's supposed to be nice tomorrow and Saturday, and I've got a couple spots on my radar. Hopefully it goes well.

My boys making me happy

You know me. Nothing makes me happier than seeing my boys out there and ripping it. So you can imagine how happy I was the other day when these two pictures and an accompanying video showed up in my email inbox. I have to thank Brandon for always being on the ball and sending this stuff to me. So here they are, twins separated by different sets of parents, Brandon Miller and Dan Shaw. The top is Brandon, coming in with a sidewinding 50-50 across a pool, and the bottom is Dan, coming out with a frontside air a good couple feet out of the pool's coping. If you read the Thunderbolt motto and law post from the other day, you know what I'm talking about now... 

so so much fun

Ain't it the truth...

Thunder oath, motto, and law

Here are some more shots of Dave doing what he does best. I'm not even going to tell you what that is, because you should know by now. Shame on you if you don't know... So any time us old Thunder Bolts get together, we like to talk official Bolts of Thunder business. After talking the talk with Dave last week, I've realized that Bolts of Thunder has left a few major items of business unattended. I realized that we have not publicly stated the Bolts of Thunder motto, law, legend, symbol, any of that. If you're a Thunder Bolt, then all of these are obvious and inherent deep inside you. But for those of you new to or unfamiliar with what we stand for, allow me to enlighten you...

The Law: Dan is invincible

The Motto: What would Dan do?

Oath: Do a Dan thing daily

Legend: Dan Shaw

Like I said, this is completely inherent to all those familiar with Bolts of Thunder, but I thought I'd educate some of you. Also, Bolts of Thunder's symbol is Nick's mustache colored in gold and in the clenches of a bald eagle. That just made me think of the dying eagle song we had to learn in 4th grade. If you don't know what I'm talking about, google the lyrics "There on a mountain high, wounded eagle waits to die". We had to learn this song in 4th grade, and I always wanted to cry when we sang it. Sad stuff...

A little nothing

I'm not too clear on what the rules are on cheering for yourself when you land, but I'll tell you what, my arms were up in the arm for myself today. I actually think it's alright to smile and be happy when you land a trick. And to move your arms. I think too many people think you have to look like you're pissed when you land a trick when really you're beaming with joy inside. Anyway, not what I was intending on writing on today.

So I've been skating quite a bit lately here in Siena. We've been blessed with really good weather for the past month or so, and Rachel and I go every day to one of two spots. One of them is the one in the picture above. It's a super smooth spot that's covered. There's even a ledge on the other side of the building that goes down a ramp that you can skate on Saturday. The flat area is just outside an old people's hang out place, and they all come up and watch you skate when you're there. I have yet to get the boot from anyone here. The other spot we go to is closer to our home, so we go there more often. It has ledges to skate and enough flat ground to get in some good practice. And that's it. Those are pretty much the only spots we have, but I still have good fun. I've even been learning new ledge tricks as of late, so that's fun. Anyway, that's all I have to say, so enjoy the picture. Varial heelflip, with love...

Garrett's quick clip

I'm a fan of Garrett. Always have been, think I always will be. I saw on his blog that he put up this video that he made with some older footage, and I liked it. So here is the link for you to enjoy:

http://www.workingonskating.com/2012/10/nostalgia.html

Gli Amici Italiani

Ecco, i miei amici qui a Siena. Facciamo lo skate insieme... So these are my homies that I skate with in Siena. It was weird when I met them because they are the ones that came up to me and asked me if I skated. I was carrying my board, so it was a pretty sure give away. But still, I'm proud of them for taking some initiative. I've been in their situation many a time, and most of the time I've been rejected. But every now and then, one of the people that I street contact sticks around, and we become good friends. That's what happened with Ben and AJ, for example. It's rare, but it happens. Most of the people that I meet that skate never return my phone calls and refuse my relentless solicitations to be my friend, so I can appreciate when someone street contacts me and wants to skate. Anyway, I head out with them usually once or so a week depending on everyone's schedules, and it's always a good time. The last time we skated, they took us to this awesome spot with marble ledges and stairs and ledges going off of stairs. It was way fun, and I'm going to go back again with my video camera next time and get some footage. Should be fun...

So that's Denis up top busting a 360 flip down the stairs, followed up with a kickflip crooked grind and a kickflip noseslide on the ledge. That's Angelo with a massive fakie ollie and a big smile. And I forgot the other dude's name with the ollie down the stairs, I've only met him once. Sorry...

Ultimate throw down, Parisian style

For those of you who could not pick up on my less than subtle elbow nudges yesterday, I will just come straight out and say it. I went to Paris this last week and hung out with Dave. That's why I didn't write at all. I traded my time with you to be with Dave. It had to be done... So when you skate/hang out with Dave, you're guaranteed at least three things: 1) Dave will do some crazy stunts for you. He just can't help it. 2) Something funny/crazy will happen out of the blue that would never happen if you were with someone else. 3) Your jaw will be tired at the end of the day from laughing so much. These are known as Dave's Laws. Not to be confused with David Law. He's different, although in many ways he fits into these same categories... I'm confusing you. Moving on.

So one of our many memorable moments from this last week in Paris was Dave getting thrown around by the ticket checkers in the metro. Just to clarify, the ticket checkers have no real authority other than to harass you and see if you have a ticket. If you don't and you refuse to pay, then they can call the cops and then the cops can throw down on you. But the ticket checkers are just toothless guard dogs that feel tough when they hold a note pad and pen in their hands. So we were on our way to see Notre Dame and yell "Sanctuary!" from its highest towers when we were stopped by the metro ticket checker group. They wait right in front of the exit of the metro where you don't expect them, then they jump out at you, ensnaring you in their evil designs. They were waiting at the top of these escalators, and before we knew it, they had grabbed Dave and were interrogating him. Now my purpose in writing this post is not to accept or deny Dave's innocence. That is beyond me. As the great philosopher Tupac once said, "Only God can judge me now." I believe that to be a universal truth for all men, and I thereby grant Dave ticket judgement sanction. He will answer to none of you as to his innocence.

So these two butch woman grabbed Dave and cornered him up against this wall. For a couple minutes they demanded to see his ticket which he had apparently thrown away after entering the metro. Why would he want to hold onto that thing? This went on for a few minutes, and then another large, butch woman with a nice masculine flat top came up and interrogated Dave some more, threatening to have the cops arrest him and take away his passport and what not. After several minutes of putting up with them, Dave finally decided he'd had enough and we should be going now. So he told them that he was leaving and started walking off. But the three women, taking this as a threat to their existence, created a large, soft wall of body fat between them, and one of them yelled out in her best wizard's voice, "You Shall Not Pass!" Well, that part's a little fuzzy, and I don't remember if that's really what happened or what I wanted to happen, but either way, the way was shut before Dave. Then one of the dudes, seeing that his fellow ticket checker people were struggling to keep Dave at bay, jumped into the scene by grabbing Dave and throwing him  up against the wall. The dude had a good  hundred pounds on Dave, so he slammed him pretty hard up against the wall. His hair was flying up and everything when he hit the wall, making the scene look even more dramatic. I remember thinking, "Everything Dave does, he does it epicly. Even getting thrown against the wall..." So then Dave just kept walking forward with his hands in the air so that they knew that the cameras would see that he didn't have a weapon and that they were illegally throwing him against the wall. He just kept walking forward a couple times and got slammed against the wall several times until finally he broke his way through the wall of fat and bitterness towards years of lacking real authority, and he made his ways towards the exit doors. Then one last dude ran up and tried to assert some of his authority, and he pushed Dave too. Except he didn't think about which way he was pushing Dave, and he pushed him straight out the doors. So there, we were out.

As we made it out, we saw some cops getting out of their cars and making their way toward the metro entrance, so we thought it better to just get out of there. But I'll tell you what, Notre Dame was pretty that night... There's Dave up above shredding what he shreds and showing you the proper way to hold you jaw when you burp.

Strange mysterious things

So as you may or may have not noticed, I have not written anything in a week's time. Think of this as a little silent treatment from me to you, Bolts of Thunder style. I wouldn't talk until at least one of you spoke first. Then two of you spoke. Thank you Gin and Zak for breaking that silence and allowing me to continue on my writing rampage that we all know as the Bolts of Thunder blog...

To be completely honest with you, there is a legitimate reason that I have not written the last week. To sum it up, I will post a picture and present a little puzzle for you. I will leave it to you to try and put things together until my next post when I divulge the earth-shattering truth behind the mystery of my absence...

If you were to exclaim in disbelief, anger, or hatred, "that's Dave McDonald front blunting that ledge!" then you'd be 100% correct. Then, to follow up that first exclamation, if you were to once again yell out, "but he lives in Paris!" then you would once again be correct. Then where did this picture come from?... Think of that little picture as adding the corn starch into the little broth I've been stirring in this here post. Yeah, the plot just got thicker...

When in Rome, skate what the Romans skated

And you ask me, "have ye not shame for skating this antique wall?" To that, I answer with a swift and confident "No." If this wall has survived two world wars, several civil wars and revolutions, Fiats and Vespas driven with no regard for human life, and several centuries of general Italian tender love and care, then my little skateboard shouldn't leave a scratch. And if it did, nobody could care less. Point made.

Sasquatch sightings in Italy

Speed 3

Speed took place on a large transit bus in Los Angeles. Speed 2 took place on a boat somewhere in water with Sandra Bullock. Speed 3 took place on a little transit bus in Siena, Italy. And it happened yesterday. I've been in a couple accidents, and there's a feeling you get in your bones when you see it coming. The hair on discreet parts of your body stands straight up as it attempts to abort ship, and you embrace for impact. That's how I felt the entire bus ride home yesterday, except we made it home without getting in an accident, despite the bus driver's best efforts.

It all started when bus drivers in Milan and Rome decided to stick it to the man yesterday and striked all day. Nobody knows what their demands were because they never specified, and I'm pretty sure they didn't know what their demands were either. Just a holiday at the beginning of October, I guess. Deer hunting day, that's what it was... So Rome's little cousin Siena caught wind of the strike, and some drivers thought they'd get in on the taking it to the streets action by keeping their buses off the streets. But some drivers gave in to corporate greed and what not and decided to stick to their normal routes. Or maybe they just thought they'd help out the city like they do every day and drive their buses? Whatever their rational was, I'm very grateful for the drivers that did come, because that saved me from hitching a ride or walking.

The story then continued into the afternoon as Rachel and I decided to head home after a group of one legged pigeons tried to steel our pizza. Don't trust a one legged pigeon. We saw the bus that goes closest to our house right in front of us, and we considered ourselves lucky to have a bus given there was somewhat of a strike going on. As our bus left the stop, this lady walking by on the side of the road yelled out in disgust at our driver, "I thought there was a strike today!" Apparently she was disappointed that the all-mighty dollar had won over a few hearts. The dude grumbled something back at her, but he obviously wasn't happy. We continued our adventure through the city until this girl and lady, who had been talking obnoxiously loud the entire ride, started yelling out, "Stop! I want to get off now!" Usually you're supposed to push the stop button on the bus, and it goes to the next stop. But this girl took ess into her own hands (that's a disgusting image of a girl holding poop in her hands. sorry...) and started yelling "Stop!" when there wasn't even a stop. The driver, looking confused and a little startled, slowed down real quick for the girl to get off. Then the girl said, "No, not here..." So the driver kept driving. But then literally 30 feet later, the girl yelled out, "Ok, here! I want to get off now." The driver, already upset at his apparent selling out for driving a bus and the old lady on the street giving him grief for it, was angered even further with the girls disrespect for the bus system. "I don't get what you're trying to do! Do you want to get off or stay?!" Then girl, who displayed no remorse for her disruptive behavior, casually answered that she wanted off, thus angering the driver even further. He let her off, but shared a few words with her first that I couldn't understand all that well (I don't know how to swear or insult people in Italian...). But after the girl got off, the incident wasn't finished there. The man decided to take out retribution on her friend that was in the back of the bus and yelled at her a couple times. Then the man decided that he, too, was sticking it the man, and he was on strike. Except his form of strike is the scary kind. Not the kind where you just quit driving your bus, but the kind where you lock everyone that's already in the bus in, and you don't let anyone else on. Then as a passenger, you hope the guy doesn't have a concealed weapons license and decide to completely snap that day.

So the man decided he was no longer at work, but that he was the main villain in his own version of Speed 3, and that the bus could not drop below 15 mph an hour. This usually isn't fast at all, but it is when you're driving through streets that were built 800 years ago with no intention of cars driving on them. They are super narrow and covered with people, and when you have an 8 foot wide bus creeping through them and refusing to stop, you're looking for an accident. But don't get me wrong, the guy didn't keep it at 15 mph, he did his best to get it up as fast as he could through the streets, probably reaching 40 or so on this one longer stretch of road. I was praying that nobody would step in front of him because he wasn't stopping. He also stopped yielding around blind corners, he ran a red light through this skinny little gate, and he refused to pick up the people that were waiting at the stops. At the first stop where I noticed he missed people, I told him that there were people there. But he responded with, "I'm striking today!" I was confused as to why he was still driving his route if he wasn't going to pick up anyone, but I guess old habits die hard... But then I wasn't sure if he was going to drop us off or not. So the lady that he yelled at earlier started asking him what in the aitch he was doing and if he would drop her off at her stop. He refused to answer her after she asked 3 or 4 times. He just kept driving like a madman, refusing to stop or slow down. He asked me where we were going, but he didn't say if he was going there or not. But as he made it close to our stop, I gave him the good old fashioned ring of the bell, and he stopped for us, after he almost ran head on into a semi truck that had veered into our lane. I was happy to know that the bus could, in fact, go slower than 15 mph without setting off a bomb, and that he let us off at our stop.

I had Rachel sneak off a couple shots of him driving the bus, because I knew this was prime time blog material. It's all I've got... So that's him driving up top and me holding on to what I've got.

Cats

This is what happens when you pass time in Italy. You torture animals. Little does this poor cat know, it's never going to catch that stick... So the family we live with has 4 cats that protect us and give us their blessing every day. Every time we go outside, this little orange and white cat follows us around and plays with us for hours. It's way fun to watch it try and sneak attack the other cats, get beat up, then try it again. Always a guaranteed good time.

Help me stop second hand smoking

Same trick, different side. So that's the woman herself. Rachel. She's my filmer, photographer, conversationist, journalist, protagonist, friend, and wife. She's amazing because she loves to come out with me and watch me skate more than just about anything. Or at least that's what I like to think. So I have to thank her for taking all these pictures of me when I skate.

So a dirty little addiction I've picked up since being in Italy is second hand smoking. Can't seem to get enough of it. Any time I finally get a wiff of fresh air, someone's sure enough to come along waving a cigarette in my face. I've lost a couple extra days or so of my life from all that smoke. I guess I'm going to have to quit second hand smoking when I go back to Provo. It's hard to second hand smoke there unless you hang out at the provo skatepark on Geneva road (there you can second hand smoke all day long with 15 year olds that are bigger and stronger than me and push mongo. They're a dime a dozen on the other side of the freeway), so I'll probably have to quit it cold turkey. When I came back from Geneva I had to quit second hand smoking, too. Woke up at night in cold sweat, yelling and cursing at the universe. I don't know why I'm talking about this, but I guess I need your help in order to quit, because I can't seem to stop second hand smoking over here in Italy.

I refuse to explain

I know what you're thinking: didn't you already put pictures of that trick on? and: what are you up to? and: where have you been the last couple days?

I can explain. But I won't.

Thanks, Zak, for getting in touch with me pronto style. I'm glad to hear from you, and I hope you're doing good. Anyone else I may have forgotten, I also hope you're doing good. Enjoy today's post.

Searching for Zak Smith

I was trying to get a hold of Zak Smith. You know him as Zachary Smackery from his comments on this blog. Anyway, I wanted to say what's up to him, but I realized I don't have his email, and I can't find him on facebook. So, Zak, if you're still around, or if anyone knows how I can get a hold of him, please tell me. Thank you for your help... Now enjoy this massive hubba grind:

Gin, Thundie of the week

These are a couple spots I've found here in Siena. Actually, they're all the same spot. It's this bank, it's the oldest existing bank in the world (not the first bank, but the oldest bank still in function. Get what I'm saying?...). They don't car at all that you skate the ledges there, which is completely foreign to me. Like I've been there at 3 in the afternoon on a weekday, and I'm expecting to get the boot, but nothing. Nobody. Maybe it's because they're already done working for the day, which is extremely likely... Anyway, these are a couple ledge friends that I've made here in Siena. The top is a kickflip noseslide, the last is a noseslide, no kickflip.

Now I would like to publicly thank my little sister, Ginger, for her consistent and insightful comments on both this and Rachel's blogs. For being so dedicated, she gets special recognition and wins the award of "Thundie of the week", quite the prestigious award. Thanks, Gin! Keep them coming.