Getting UNCOMFORTABLY PUMPED for this Northwest Road Trip...

An elite crew of adventurers are joining me for what will be known as "the greatest road trip ever achieved in the history of the Universe." Senator Nadkarns, X Mandeville, Scottholomew Hagerty, Colleen of the Kling Faction, and potentially Madam Surbhington the Third (more prodding is in order to nag her to accept) are joining me on my brainchild road trip that has been in the works for about a year and a half. And I'm getting way, way too pumped.

We're flying out to Salt Lake City on June 10, where we'll rent a car (kickass Ford Escape. FUCK YOU gas economy, we need leg room!). Over the course of 12 days we'll travel to the Grand Tetons, Yellowstone, Craters of the Moon, Portland, Mt. Saint Helens, Mt. Rainier, Olympic National Park, and flying back from Seattle. I know what you're thinking: "But Chris, that is WAY too much awesomeness for any mortal." Well, you are correct. But we are not mortals. We are fucking adventuretimes champions. The kind of champions that save you from all the zombie-raptors when you dream at night. The kind of champions that walk up to Cancer, kick him in the balls, and then send in a faulty version of his taxes so that the IRS audits the shit out of him. This is our plan:

Click on this map. If you dare.

In between boring things like sleeping, pretending to do work, and eating ALL the food, I spend most of my time getting physically pumped up for this trip. Like, I'll stomp around the apartment doing roundhouse kicks in the air and spitting ALL over the place. This one time I was making dinner, and I swear to god I punched my stir fry in the face. Or, where I'd imagine the face would be if stir fry had one.

In fact, just today, Scott and I spent the better part of ten minutes trying to come up with a name for the road trip such that the acronym would spell out something badass. We're tabling it for now, but what we have so far is TEARTITKU - The Epicest Adventuretimes Road Trip In The Known Universe. It has TEAR (that's what bears do!) and TIT (nice), so you know it has to be good.

So anyway, since this interblag was originally intended to capture the beautiful essence of America's greatest pastime - the road trip - I figured I might as well stay somewhat true to my roots and write some road trip bloggy kind of stuff. If you don't like it, then don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.

Polar Bear Swim? No Thanks.

Back in scout camp (for a week every summer my troop went to scout camp getting merit badges and camping and shit. Yep, I'm pretty cool.), we had to do the "polar bear swim" every morning, and it is complete bullshit. Here's a little rundown of what that magical activity actually entails:

- Our troop leaders would come by our tents every morning at the ass-crack of dawn and wake us up with their mind-numbingly annoying "time to make the donuts" shout.

- 10 minutes later, after we've already fallen back asleep, they would come back and actually start to prod and shake us to get us up.

- When we would object to getting up at a time in which THE SUN DOESN'T EVEN START HEATING UP OUR ATMOSPHERE, they would pour some water on us and force us to get up.

- We would brood and sulk and pout as we walked down to the pool area, where we would then jump into the freezing cold swimming pool (I was actually surprised every morning to find the water was in a liquid state, because it was easily below -100 degrees Fahrenheit. They must have done something weird with the pressure...) for NO REASON AT ALL and then go back to camp so we can change for breakfast. SO MUCH FUN.

Once my friends and I got older and wiser, we came up with a new strategy. A strategy in which we could live our lives polar-bear free. When the leaders came by to wake us up, we woke up immediately (this should have tipped them off that something was amiss, but I guess their initial faulty assumption was that we actually wanted to subject ourselves to a watery torture every day at fuck o'clock in the morning). We put on our swimsuits and ran down the path to the swimming pool while they were still waking up the other kids in our troop. "We'll see you down there!" No you fucking won't.

Once we were out of sight, we ducked onto another path which was a roundabout trail to the shower area. While our troop was busy hurling themselves into semi-solidified ice-water, we spent our mornings taking nice hot showers. It was the perfect crime. Our leaders never saw us because we "got to the pool early" and there were so many other troops there that it was easy to miss us, we got to take piping hot showers every morning without worry that the warm water would be out due to over-use, and we'd show up back in camp dripping wet from our "polar bear" excursion. Bwahahahahaha

With that said, I find it hilarious that in my twenties I am now opting to do the polar bear jump. On three separate occasions I've jumped into the freezing Boston ocean in the winter for... the fun of it? I don't know why. You can tell by my expressions in the following pictures that I was less than pleased by my decision...

First polar bear at Revere - Dodgeball House residents randomly going in the middle of January for no reason

Second polar bear at Revere with Michelle, Scott, and Zak. Michelle's Cupid Splash was moved, so we decided to spend our February afternoon leaping into the ocean JUST BECAUSE WE DON'T SUCK

First one in, first one out

LOOK AT CRONIN'S FACE. PRICELESS.

Before I'm 30

I've mentioned this or have shown this to a few people, but apparently having a list of things to do before you're 30 isn't all that normal? I don't see why. I have life goals, and the most opportune time to do most of them (due to being physically capable, having the time and energy, or just because of the terrifying idea that I might not be as insane as I am now) is before my 30th birthday. Plus, that is going to be a super depressing day, and I want to be able to look back at my life and be like "oh right, I forgot how awesome I am. Carry on." I encourage you to make your own, because it feels great crossing off these huge life achievements when you complete them. Like, better than that feeling you get when you push the "other" button down on a McDonald's soda lid. I came up with most of them the day after I graduated undergrad (literally the next day), but some I added when I heard of something so awesome that made me go "holy shit. I must conquer that. IT'S GOING ON THE LIST." So here is my list:

1. Oktoberfest in Munich - this needs to happen.
2. Get a dog - I'm going to name him Khan, so that whenever I call his name I scream "KHAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNN" SEE WHAT I DID THERE? roflroflroflrofl lolersk8s roflcopter
3. Skydive - COMPLETE (This is the epic coming-of-age narrative in which I punched the face of god and then jumped out of a moving aircraft)
4. Triathlon - potentially signing up for baby's first triathlon this summer? CALM DOWN it's just a sprint, not a full "all my bodily functions are failing me and I'm definitely going to have 17 heart attacks" all-out crazy triathlon. But still. w00t?
5. Climb Kilimanjaro - should probably start researching what that is going to require...
6. Go to California - COMPLETE (I kinda lived there for 4 months? And I kinda created this blogosphere to chitchat about it? The blag is literally named "Goin' to California." To my faithful readers in China: I know you probably didn't realize this, but yes, I completed that life objective.
7. Go to Yellowstone - I'm doing this in 3 weeks! (You'll probably see some journal entries in the future, or if you are a time traveler from the future, you already know this, but I'm going on a road trip from Salt Lake City to Seattle with some grade A chums).
8. Learn another language - FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU- I need to get on that...
9. Learn how to solo on the guitar - COME ON. When am I going to have time to "become proficient at skills I don't yet have?" Ugh.
10. Go to New Orleans for Mardi Gras - that seems pretty fantastic.
11. Go to Japan - seems simple enough. I think I need to start designing some pyramid schemes to build up enough capital to achieve some of these goals.
12. Eat the Vermonster - some of the D. Haus crew and I came up with that around sophomore year, but it never came to fruition. I need to build up a team to take down this mountain of ice cream THIS SUMMER.
13. Paint the Tufts cannon - I've actually never done this, how is THAT possible? But whatevs, it's happening this summer.
14. Drink around the world at Epcot - I heard about this through Jimmy (who actually did it on his honeymoon), and it sounds phenomenal. The idea is that at every "country" in Epcot, you get that country's signature drink. Apparently, it culminates to a tram ride back to the hotel in which you scream "I love you, dude!" in front of 20 children. SIGN ME UP.
15. Wear Greenman suit to a sports game - SO PUMPED TO DO THIS. The Phillies just need to get up to Boston and I need to get tickets so I can pull this off. Because I am NOT rooting for a non-Philadelphia team in the Greenman suit. That's sacrilege.
16. Eat the world's spiciest burger - COMPLETE (UGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH enjoy this link to the WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY SWEET YOUNG LIFE).
17. Get Master's Degree - FUN. I'm working on it I'm working on it.
18. Backpack in the Alps - I'm actually worried it will be too gorgeous.
19. Brew beer - I'm hoping to make a batch for the fall. And I want it to taste like FRIGGN PUMPKINS.

Not really a "before I'm 30" goal, but DEFINITELY a life goal: I recently ate so many cupcakes that I literally vomited. It was awesome. There was one with bacon brittle on it and pieces of actual bacon in the cupcake! WELCOME TO AWESOMETOWN, POPULATION: ME.

Wet Leaves

With the first camping trip of the year approaching (a bunch of us are heading up to VT to enjoy the outdoors, eat baked beans, drink beer, and play Spades ALL FUCKING DAY), I got to reminiscing about another one of our hilarious boyscout escapades. This one isn't as bone-crunchingly painful as the other story, but it does paint a very accurate picture of what our time in scouts was really like. This, boys and girls, is a story about urination.

It is a fact of life: peeing on something is simply the act of marking your territory. In fact, it is a legally binding act whereby you claim ownership of said "target." I once set the goal to urinate on every notable landmark in one week at summer camp one year (achievement unlocked). I set a similar goal to excrete liquid waste on every building at Tufts (yep, I pretty much own most of Tufts by now). TONS of well known places and landmarks are now my property (Mason-Dixon line, Tooth of Time in Philmont NM, Half-Dome at Yosemite, Angel's Landing at Zion, Harvard Statue - hahaha there is a picture of Shaq touching the exact location that I peed on, Mississippi River, Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, etc.) And when you camp a lot in scouts, you come to learn that peeing outside is better..... or at least more hilarious.

On this particular camping trip, we were training for our big backpacking trip to Philmont, NM. This campground had PERFECTLY GOOD LEAN-TO's, but our leaders did not allow us to shelter ourselves from the rain because we had to "practice setting up and taking down tents." Bullshit. Out of furious spite, we all decided that the floor of the unoccupied lean-to would be our urinal for the weekend. Whenever any of us had to go, we had to declare that we needed to "use the lean-to," and then we'd go to town. By the end of the camping trip, there literally was a puddle on the floor of this edifice in which other people would use as shelter whilst camping. Yes, world, we had our revenge.

But as we were leaving we realized that a puddle in the middle of the lean-to looked entirely too conspicuous, especially because it hadn't actually rained. In our brilliance, we opted to cover the puddle with a bunch of leaves laying on the ground. I don't know why we thought a pile of soaking wet pee-leaves in the middle of a dry floor looked any better, but we were satisfied. It looked hilarious. Just a empty, bare lean-to with a pile of soaking wet leaves right in the middle of it.

The best part is that as we were driving out of the campground, the rangers stopped us so they could "check the site" to make sure it was clear of trash. Jesus tapdancing Christ. They would immediately find our moist, leafy "gift," and in our minds we assumed that the only possible conclusion a normal human being could come to was that it was a pile of leaves used to hide a steaming puddle of piss that six teenage boys had created in the span of three days in order to get back at their scout leaders for making them set up tents. We thought we were doomed. Waiting in the backseat of the car, the tension was palpable. We were too terrified to utter a single sound; instead we sent each other knowing glances that said "the moment they come back and tell the adults what they've found, we're bolting from this vehicle and running into the woods, starting a new life as forest people, living off the land for the rest of our days." I think one of us may have vomited from the anxiety, I'm not sure. But anyway, the rangers finished their inspection and came back. The adults got out of the cars to make sure everything looked good so we could head home. As they walked back to the cars, we readied myself for the rapid vehicular exodus we were about to make. "Ok, everything looks good." How can this be? DIDN'T THEY SMELL THE PILE OF SOPPING WET LEAVES IN THE LEAN-TO??? I was flabbergasted. "Yeah, all they found was a plastic wrapper." Oh thank the heavens, we were off the hook. I am sure that we only got out of that by the skin of our teeth and by the fact that these rangers clearly don't have it all going on upstairs to have missed it.

"They said they found some wet leaves in one of the lean-to's, but it must have been the wind that blew them up off the ground."

"Heh.... heh... yeah. Probably. Just drive."

I almost died again...

Oh hay guise,

So remember how every so often I do something so reckless and awesome that I get the feeling "shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit, I'm definitely going to get naturally selected" but then miraculously survive? (reference jumping off a 78 foot cliff and eating the spiciest burger in the world). Yeah so I had that feeling again this weekend. It was amazing/terrifying. That's a normal combination of emotions, right?

My buddy Rich, from work, and I went up to Mt. Washington to ski Tuckerman's Ravine this past Caturday. We went up to the Tufts Loj with a few friends because, hey, I'll be damned if I ever hike a mountain in New Hampshire without being depressingly hungover. So yeah, it was a rough start to the morning, but I powered through, as I am wont to do when hiking Mt. Washington (note: the last time/only other time I've hiked Mt. Washington was with Rich and I was so hungover that I puked up a colorful-gummybear-mess about an hour before scaling the tallest mountain in New England). And hangover aside, this hike was exhausting. The trail was snowy/icy, so for every step forward, we slid half a step back. Also, we were trucking it up that mountain (made it to the top in less than three hours while carrying skis? what?), so I was so friggn tired.

We made it to the base of Tuckerman's Ravine, which is a huge snowy bowl with nearly vertical walls that you have to climb up in ski boots. You know, ski boots? Those things that make you look like you have a mental disorder when you walk? Those things that are in no way fit for scaling a vertical wall of ice? Fun times. So yeah, with our skis on our backs, we start climbing up this ravine wall, using our ski poles as ice picks so that we have more than just the toes of our FUCKING SKI BOOTS as points of contact. And it was terrifying. If your center of mass was just a tiny bit backwards (and remember, we're climbing a wall that is nearly vertical. I exaggerate quite a bit, but this wall was literally about 80 degrees vertical), you would absolutely fall down the entire mountain wall. In fact, we saw a few people that did end up falling. And when you fall, you can't just stop yourself. You fall all the way down. I think one guy broke his arm. I was not amused by my predicament.

Pictures do it no justice. This thing was nuts.

Getting up this wall was both physically and mentally excruciating. It was honestly the third most difficult hike I've ever done. At one point I was 20 feet from the top, clinging to whatever surface I could for dear life, too tired to keep going. Ugh. And when we got to the top, I collapsed. But oh wait, it is Mt. Washington, so it was freezing and all my sweat was now super cold and pissing me off. But my legs still felt like they were made out of jelly, so I wasn't ready to start skiing. Soooo about halfway before I would have been actually ready, I was forced to put on my skis lest I die from hypothermia. And the fun part is that it was so vertical at the top, that you literally had to jump to start skiing. It was like ten feet before my skis actually hit snow.

And the moment they did hit snow? They instantaneously crossed and I fell. And tumbled. And spiraled head-over-heels out of control. For the third time in my life, I, Chris Severino, thought that I was going to perish. LUCKILY, I was able to swing my feet out in front to control my slide, and used my ski poles to stop myself before I hit a HUGE FUCKING PATCH OF ROCKS. Great start. I had tumbled halfway down the friggn ravine. Rich was kind enough to bring my skis down so I didn't have to climb up the entire way again, and then I managed to survive skiing down the rest of the way. It was fun, but I think I was still all jacked up on adrenaline from the whole "almost-dying-via-smashing-into-jagged-rocks-at-Mach-2" thing.

Needless to say, my survival rate is still at 100%. But just barely.

I am the smartest

Ok, most people don't realize this, but boy scouts are fucking crazy.

We were on a camping trip when I was younger and had just joined the troop, so I was like 12 at the time. On this particular camping trip, my friends and I did the dumbest thing I've EVER DONE... before we learned how great fire was. The fire stories are great stories too, because all scouts are necessarily pyromaniacs, but we'll save the one where I melted off the soul of my hiking boots for another day. This is a tale of creativity, ingenuity, triumph, and traumatic levels of pain.

When we joined the troop (back in... 1998? Holy shit), we didn't have many responsibilities. We were carefree, young go-getters who would stop at nothing to attempt the most dangerous stunts that our semi-developed brains were capable of concocting.

We are also fucking adorbs. Oh the guy in the hat? That's my best friend Jimmy. HE IS A MARRIED PERSON NOW. WHAT.

So anyway, on this camping trip we had the entire afternoon free, so what do we decide to do? CONSTRUCT A GO-KART BY TYING TWO DOLLIES TOGETHER WITH TWINE. This is normal. But to our credit, we used really good knots. Our plan was to ride it down a nearby hill MOUNTAIN like an unsteerable go-kart. It must have been the steepest hill in Pennsylvania. It was a friggn cliff. We were SO pumped. So me, Jimmy, Geoff, and probably Olsen (I don't really remember) got on this XTREME death vehicle that we had constructed, making sure to sneak by the troop leaders (because they would not be too keen on the idea of four 12-year-olds careening themselves off the side of a mountain while riding two package-transporting devices tied together with string). The funniest part about this scenario is the fact that it took less than ONE SECOND for all four of us to simultaneously regret our rash decision.

After about 3 seconds were were hurtling down the hill at Mach 2. I'm not sure if we were screaming, because the sound would have been drowned out by the sonic boom surrounding our shoddily crafted and rapidly accelerating makeshift speed-rocket. And then we saw it. We were on an unchangeable vector heading toward huge tree. In that instant we all knew that we would perish. I'm not entirely sure what transpired in the next few moments because I kind of blacked out from sheer terror, but I think it went something like this:

Jimmy and Olsen somehow bailed off the rampaging death-mobile by throwing themselves off the sides and rolling over boulders and snakes and bushes or whatever to eventually slow down fast enough to avoid breaking ALL THE BONES. Geoff and I, meanwhile, were somehow locked to the craft, speeding faster than Escape Velocity towards a tree that clearly doesn't give a shit about us. Because even though we were nearing the speed of light, our 12-year-old mass was basically negligible when compared to that of a tree. We were sure to lose the battle of momentum. And we absolutely lost. Upon crashing into the monstrous vegetation, we hit at such an angle that I was hurled forward off the dollies, flying through the air for about 10 seconds, and smashing into the ground 50 feet from the tree (the actual hangtime may have been significantly less impressive. shhhh.). I'm not sure what happened to Geoff; it is possible that the force of the crash was enough to make him collapse into a Black Hole.

Miraculously, all four of us survived the ordeal. We all stood up, and by the grace of God our inevitably shattered bones must have instantaneously healed themselves. However, I had more blood pouring out of my legs than I was previously aware existed in my entire body. And the pain. Holy shit. My comrades were in just as bad shape; I think one of them accidentally swallowed a family of possums while rolling over their nest at 350 mph. But that's not to say that would wouldn't do it again... though it was enough to make us at LEAST reconsider participating in this activity. The worst part is that as we clambered back up the hill, dragging our broken invention and dignity behind us, the troop leaders were at the top waiting for us. They had heard our blood-curdling screams of terror and arrived just in time to punish us for our reckless and mildly retarded behavior. So not only did I lose 3 pints of knee-blood, but I also had to wash all the pots and pans after dinner. Screw that.