Here is a photo of ERGO’s California account manager, Corban Campbell, boosting a sick one from a recent swell that was posted on SURFLINE.
When the gentlemen at ERGO decided to send the whole team out to Vegas, it almost seemed like a fairy tale. Las Vegas. The place that even Barbara Streisand can always sell out. The place of Eastern European folklore. The place where people come and try to woo women with the massive amounts of money and foolish bets, failing to realize we all pay the same price for hookers anyway. And most importantly, the place where the Blue Man Group finally found their home. And we were all to be sent out there to enjoy a week of…Vegasness.
Contrary to popular belief, nothing that was anything like “The Hangover” happened. However, in the name of stupidity and negligence of most forms of responsibility being cool, here is a list of things that did happen:
- Scott, the intern, rode home on the roof of Joe Mac’s car, grasping on for his life along the 50 mph road. (without anyone in the car knowing)
- Popular rap artist Juelz Santa tried to fight me.
- Dingus flipped the dune buggy.
- Rob Brown skated hard every day, resulting in a series of half-conscious groans on the last morning as he twisted and turned in bed, always finding a new area of his body to aggravate.
-Norman Woods and Kris Markovich had a highly anticipated beer drinking contest. Kris won all rounds, but Norman would still make 99% of the population look stupid. (Video coming soon)
- Lil D entered a surfing competition at the Mandalay Bay wave pool. After taking 1st place and a $500 check, he decided that he would use the money to go to Hawaii to tackle the big waves of the North Shore.
- Everybody went out under the blank of Las Vegas’ arid heat, gambling and sweating and sinning, enjoying every breath of the oxygenated evil jungle. Some went home with extra money. Some went home in hawaiian shirts. All went home with a smile
Go Skate Day was a day of epic proportion. We rolled up to Republik of Kalifornia in the quite little town of San Clemente. We opened up the ERGO van, plopped the grill down on the side walk, and kicked off go skate day. The day was full of sunshine, good times, eating more hot dogs than any of should have, and of course a fun skate session at the San Clemente Skate Park. Ill let the photos tell the rest of the story. Here a photo of local shop kid Donavon doing an old hippie over chair with Dog in Hand and check out Jose Magra sickness frontside Indy’s. That definetley deserves a dog!
Baja California is like a backyard sports game, the most basic form of international travel. Subdued realities of your change of environment fail to register as your conscious mind is more attuned to the kid cudi blasting through your speakers rather than then the harsh realities that lie just up the road…
Shit, did I just blow through a toll booth while I was digging the beat to this new cudi? No, actually that was the border… The absence of things like long customs lines and give-the-ceo-a-dollar international airline taxes blur the lines of a border as if in the head of border patrol’s worst nightmare. The easy access and nonchalance of crossing the border serves as a great contradiction to the life threatening risks you face in the land where you can’t drink the water. As I am told, someone dressed up as cop might rob you naked and/or kill you. Sounds like today’s backyard game is the good old classic cops and robbers. I’m pretty sure the Mexican version is a bit more consequential, although I haven’t played in a while.
Introductions are always so lame. You’d think that I was trying to impress some trendy chick in a beanie ordering a latte at starbucks after reading that. Here are some photos from last week, when ERGO’s Corban Cambell and I went down to Baja. I’m going to caption them, which probably means misconstructed attempts at childish humor. All photos are by Jeremiah Klein.
I don’t even know what a latte is, which would be the grounding of my argument if anyone was to ever accuse me of being a homosexual.
Pretty nice boat, huh?
They say the key to safety in Baja is to be as low key as possible. Corban makes sure he stays low key by…. Well, there’s two routes to go here: 1. The beaten to death cliche caption of saying someone sought shelter in a tube. or 2. Making fun of dickhead’s bright red suit.
That said, looks like el diablo found himself a tube.
I took off on a wave and did a jump.
El diablo again, keeping it low key with a slob grab. (Stalefishes are too loud.)
Corban dances in the sky at sunset.
We even learned some basic arithmetic. This photo =
I ramped out in Baja.