Sorry for Partying with WFTC 2 & Jon Stark

Men grow facial hair because we get bored of shaving and giving a fuck. 

About a week ago Jon Stark, the man behind Work for the City made plans to visit Chicago, and me. Somehow, even after this message was made clear to Yobeat, we sorta blew it. Luckily, we ran into Jon on the street, shared hard laughs and made plans to catch up, talk about whatever he’s doing and grab a normal amount of drinks later. Unfortunately, all we really managed to do was meet up, grab too many drinks, bitch about snowboarding, how we’re getting older and how kids today kind of suck.

A sleeping Jon Stark has let out two super loud farts during the creation of this trashy article. 

Jon rolled into town with a fresh buzz. Apparently Jonas Michilot gave it to him, and he’s pumped about it (let him know how you feel below). Anyway, we got right into the important stuff. How’s WFTC going, what bar has the best beer+shot deal, and why Jon feels, “If something doesn’t change in snowboarding, we’re just going to have a generation of Ryan Paul’s.” Which I thought was the funniest comment of the year.

Sneak peak at WFTC2. 

Thankfully my camera phone sort of ruin his phone’s image, because that’s top secret WFTC 2 footage. (Spoiler Alert: There are two clips of Kyle Fischer eating shit, on the same rail, that Eric Fernandez crushed years ago.) Working for the City 2 is shaping up nicely though. The boys managed to crush the midwest this year, and put a ton of footage together even though it snowed a whopping two inches globally this winter. Oh  yeah, Kent Leng was with us, but he had to go home at some point. Something about school and not understanding that Thursday is basically the weekend.

Pigeon food, bum food, thing to avoid while walking. Puke happens. 

We had just left bar number one when Jon Stark puked his guts out. It was a clean and quick puke. Efficient, with fair warning and good placement. Prior to his dinner’s departure he looked mildly shaky, and possibly made a comment about turning in. But, we had promised to party, and I didn’t have enough pictures yet, so I convinced him to give the next bar a run for it’s money. He felt fantastic after his puke. I’m paraphrasing here, and kind of reaching toward empty, booze-laden memories but I believe he ate a lot of seafood that night.

New shoes no more…

Jon has spent countless dollars, and put his life on hold to create Working for the City. It’s a dedication that comes from a love and respect of snowboarding, the culture and the people in it. Unfortunately, his first video didn’t break the blockbuster charts like The Avengers, and his second was not exactly cheap to make. All of this leads up to him waiting in Chicago all day for a box from RVCA, so he could wear jeans, his new and only pair. This is funny because they, and his brand new Koston’s are covered in puke blotches.

Not sure why the dude went for it, he for sure wasn’t asked to…

Post puke and feeling great we ventured into the next bar. Here things got a little odd, and I figured out that if kids were willing to pay .99 cents for snowboard movies we might be able to A) support the little guys b) grow and nurture talent as a community and C) force the video companies with money to stop making the same tired shit year after year. Just something to think about. That, and man boobs.

Girls just want to be on MTV.

There were girls and tattoos and other nice things in this bar. Fun fact though, what Jon Stark hates more than anything else are guys who wear backpacks into the bar. I’m sure there are exceptions tot his rule, but in common practice, if you wear a backpack into the bar, Jon Stark hopes you get hit by a bus on your way home. Preferably on your stupid bike.

“Dude, that guy brought fucking Bugles into the bar. That’s fucking weird. ” – Jon Stark

“He’s got a permanent sharpie tattoo, I think he has bigger problems.” – Nick Lipton

Jon thinks this girls hair (green, orange, red, large in the back and adorned by a large fake flower) would take two hours to put together. I thought 15 minutes max. Either way, all I can look at is the girl’s eye in the corner. We were drunk at by this point. Snowboarding conversation had taken a backseat to awkward life commentary and at this point I was fully convinced I would be riding at Raging Buffalo next season. (Who’s helping me get there?)

I can hear snickering when I look at this photo. 

I feel like our intern would make this weird hip-hop pose, too. Ironically, I think Jon is just wiping puke from his beard as he tries to talk to the beer guzzling beauty, but our intern would do it because A) He’s got a hot girlfriend and wouldn’t want her freaking out over a pic like this (girls do that) B) He’s a legendary Burlington rapper and C) He’s naturally lanky and I don’t think he can help it. Check out Intern’s new comic book column HERE!

Tamale man showed up. I don’t get how these dudes are allowed to just float in and out of all types of establishments selling their rolled up ass-blast medication. Must have something to do with not giving a fuck about Gringo law.

My camera probably started to get annoying as I got drunk. As 4AM began to loom overhead Jon felt inspired though, “Dude, wait, check this out, ‘Midwest’.” Too bad for Jon, he sorta blew it and his hands spell West Mid at best, and West Mid plus Thumbs at worst.

This sort of shit gets liked on Instagram and Facebook so we thought a little guerilla marketing might help Jon out. I mean, all zero snowboarders in this Chicago hipster hangout will Google Working for the City 2 Karl, right?

Eventually we got back to my place. Jon’s brother lives somewhere in town but that dude had been gone for hours. So, sorry for partying, but Working for the City came to town, we went out, we got drunk and you all you found out was making snowboarding movies costs a shit ton of money, Energy Drinks run snowboarding now, Kent Leng is good at snowboarding, Jon Stark sucks at not puking and Working for the City 2 is going to be awesome. Kyle Fischer’s ass-tastic slam session is worth the wait alone.



Party Snake 4/Bucklove FULL MOVIES

Canadians don’t fuck around.

Partysnake 4

Buck Hunter’s Bucklove

Party Snake 3 Teaser

Canadians know how to party.

Rutland Bar Tour Through Distorted Vision.

by Rachel Cotton

Make sure you read this first so you understand what went on. You have? ok Go.

We are young firecrackers. We sit on second-hand couches and write on each other with markers. To drink, we play games, bend red and white cans that are later thrown at each other’s heads and binge. Destinations are reached in an unsteady shuffle where feet are slipped off curbs and approaching cars are taunted with vulgar comments and subdued caution. Nothing strong and overbearing can hit us like this.

We went to bars. This is where the talk happens. A lot of times, I make up stories about myself because that’s what people want to hear. I have fights and insult others because I am suddenly courageous and cynical in regard to most conventions of life.

Middle 30’s shows up with a skateboard in hand wearing what I guess to be Marithe Francois Gibaud jeans.

“You skate?” I say

“Yeah, I just bombed that hill (pointing)” says the jeans. “This is a good little town you got here. I’m coming from the city.”

“Oh yeah? Where?”


“That’s not the city. I used to live there.”

“Before that Oakland.”

“Yeah, ok”

“So you girls are skateboarders? You know Jake Phelps, the photo editor at Thrasher? He’s my NIGGA.”

“This isn’t the city. You can’t have NIGGAZ”

Later I heard that guy tell his friends he brought his “rain board” due to the impending doom of cloudy skies. GOD BLESS HIS HEART. Someone told me to leave. I didn’t really listen, but I eventually obliged.

Wherever we went next was cheap and quiet. People were throwing darts. When I went to the bathroom, someone started pounding on the door, but I didn’t open it so she broke it open and puked. Then she got thrown out. I felt bad. I tried to talk the bartender out of his decision, but he was pretty convinced that she couldn’t drink or walk appropriately anymore, and so she had to leave. He gave her back her dollar, as though she cared. IM SORRY JENNY B.

We wandered, were accused of being 16, went into places that looked like they should have been part of people’s houses and maybe they were. In some books that I read, people live in rooms above the saloons they work in, where they stand on their feet all night and their wives cook the dinner. A hired boy works in the kitchen. Men come in after hard days of work, sit down, have drinks and tell stories. Women do, too. Then these guys who the place is named for basically watch the night everywhere end as they count the cash in the register and are so tired. They stumble upstairs to fall asleep as the sun rises. People like this would be worried about serving underage kids even if they have IDs. I get it.

Sometimes there are distractions. Flashing lights, neon cacti, imagining line dancing, cowboy boots and horseshoes on the walls serve as distractions to me. So a place like Ollies was perfect, because in a perfect world and from the outside looking in, this bar appears to be an embodiment of all my gaudy daydreams. You really did have to be 21 to get into the place, so we lost everyone we were with. It was okay. I bought Brooke a Labatt and we sat down and watched what people do when they are single or sad and over 40. Blonde, platinum best mullet ever stood at the bar and shook each buttock, alternately in time, to grateful dead covers. Apparently, an AC/DC cover band also plays here on some nights. We’ll have to go again. I like places where nobody cares about me because I am too young.

Next we went back to the first bar, where I was denied service because I broke the rules the first time around, brought beer in my bag and gave it to 19 year olds while drinking some myself. The bartender was fairly cool about this and simply refused to serve me again, but some terrible woman came up to me and started screaming at me to leave and asking me if I wanted her to lose her job. Like I said earlier, don’t try to talk to me if I have been drinking and I don’t want to hear it. I took my sweet time, finished whatever meaningless conversation I happened to be having and went back to the lair of underage indulgence. After cutting through the woods to get back on track, we drank more and did more stupid things.

I won’t lie and say I don’t like how certain people look. Most popular male attire of the evening: mesh hat. Female attire of the evening: dilated pupils.

And that was that. Tune in for leg 2, when we make more friends and fewer enemies. Until next week. -RC