This is not a sequel! This is a franchise reboot.

My savvy readers may notice that I have renamed my blog. They will then notice that this name change was not accompanied by any new material. But before you cry out, "but Carlin! Even Rihana did better than that when she repackaged her Good Girl Gone Bad album! She added a few new tracks!" I would like to stop you there. I am not here to turn the syllables of the word "umbrella" into a hit single that would create such deep joy in this Youtube commenter.

"love it to hi Rihanna - Umbrella sexy songs lovelovelovelovelovelovelovelo veloveitititiititititit kisskisskisskisskiss"

Instead, I am here to explain the logic behind changing the name of my blog. Unfortunately, my basketball season ended roughly 10,000 years ago, and so I don't have an official purpose (I use the term "official" loosely, and also the term "purpose"). So "Pine Rider Exclusive" would be a difficult title to explain outside of the world of sports, unless this were a blog about my misadventures as a Greenpeace activist. But alas, it is just about my life, making me about as original as the next guy in the "blogosphere". By the way, I am having trouble bridging the gap between the word "blogosphere" and the word "atmosphere" on which it is based. The atmosphere produces rain. The blogosphere produces people complaining about their jobs and describing everything they did on their camping trip to Lake Mosquito. I honestly don't see the connection. However, this word is in the dictionary (but then again, so is the word "gaydar").

So, consider the name change a reboot of Pine Rider, and hopefully one that I will update more often.

I'm Still Kicking!

Whats up everyone? And by that I mean all 7 of you! Since I haven't updated this thing in nearly 3 months, I figured I do a little teaser. Basketball season is long gone, so now I will have to play the part of the ancient old man recounting his tales of days gone by.......but not today. Today, I will tide my followers over with an example of some of my video's from days gone by.

This was the first real video I ever produced. I was a hot headed youngster of 12. Actually, I just realized this, but I technically will always be "hot headed" because I have red hair. Haha, it's a pun. Anyway, back in those days I had a sick fascination with Bisquick.




Next, these are the bloopers of a zombie movie I made in junior high. I use the term "made" loosely. If I wanted to be precise, I would say "slapped together". I put music to it, so now I guess I'm "slapping" with rhythm!...................................Wow, in retrospect, I shouldn't have wrote that last part.





I would post the actual movie trailer for Secrets of the Dead, except apparently I used some copyrighted music, and they disabled the audio. I spent about 6 hours on that thing! If I wasn't a capitalist, this would segue into a massive rant about the ills of society. Tempting.............but no.

My next video was done for a Grade 11 English project. We read Lord of the Flies, and had to focus our projects on "The Beast" that the children think lives on the mountain on their island. This was completed (by the skin of our teeth) in one evening, by 9 pm, the blooper reel was massive and we were running out of daylight.



Bonus points if you caught the "Lost" reference at the beginning. As a side note, some idiot, apparently a William Golding purist, rated my video 1/5 stars. Now, I would be alright with that, if it wasn't for the fact that some guy's video called "Bisquick. Now with 20% less anal leakage!!!!!!!" recieved a higher rating. I am just barely holding back on that rant..............but I can't. I have to remain faithful to the purpose of this sacred blog.

Fianlly, here's the aforementioned massive blooper reel for the Lord of the Flies spoof. Enjoy that, and the promise of more videos and stories to come.

A Night in the Hat (Part 2)

(This is a continuation of my earlier post entitled "A Night in the Hat", if you have not read that post yet, it would be highly helpful to your understanding if you did that first. I know, scrolling down sucks.....I've been there, I feel your pain.)

While the JV's were learning their life lesson, the seniors expended all possible options for amusement, which included exploring the identical hallways, and getting a huge bucket of ice from the ice machine. When we filled said bucket, it was then that we realized we had no real use for this ice, it just sounded like a good idea at the time. The next 15 min were filled with grunts of surprise as no one escaped a certain cold wet feeling down the back of their shirt.

Finally, the hallway littered with ice cubes, we turned our collective attention to food. Cletus was buzzing around my laptop like a fly, with the appearance of someone in deep thought. That got me wondering what was putting him in this state of intense focus....was it our new offensive play, was it his free throw technique? When I asked him what he was pondering, he asked me if we could visit Pizza Hut's website, so he could begin to plan the largest order of our lives.

It all seemed like a blur after that. Soon I had about 8 guys crowded around my computer screen, taking in the deliciousness of the internet images in front of them. Hunger was gnawing at everybody. Cletus, with the authority of someone responsible for the fate of the universe, picked up the phone, dialed the number, and began to order. I don't know what it was, maybe everyone assumed the food available was just as small as the pixels on my screen, but everyone just kept on ordering....and ordering....and ordering. All those years of my parents telling me I was a bottomless pit increased my confidence. We needed more! Pizzas? Pzones? Wings? Brownies? Cinnamon Buns? Root Beer? Bring it on! I looked over at Alec, spewing out suggestions like a high school guidance counselor. I watched the glee in his face increase every time Cletus added something to the order. Everyone was smiling. I knew this euphoria wouldn't last.

Sure enough, about 5 seconds before Cletus hung up the phone, he suddenly changed. He became grim and serious. He told everyone to get out their money, to put in everything they got...because we just spent $273 on one meal. Only Alec kept his grin, for the rest of us, it was a mad dash for wallets, pockets, gym bags, and ATM's. There was mumbling along the lines of "I should have gone to @!&$@ McDonald's!". People were calling in previous debts and exchanging money on a massive scale. The pizza hut manager called, asking if this order was a joke. We assured him it wasn't. We may be going broke, but something in all of us wanted to see this through to the end.

The delivery people arrived. I felt a sudden shot of sympathy for them. I only got a quick glance, but I could have sworn they borrowed a luggage rack from the hotel to accomplish their task. When it was all said and done, we laid out enough boxes to completely cover the table next to the TV, AND one of the beds.

Those on our team who didn't participate in "The Order" (referred to from here on as "The Outsiders") caught the whiff of pizza and congregated around the doorway, hoping against hope that we were so far in over our heads that we could spare them a piece. For the first 45 minutes, this was the situation:

(The birds did not pay for that crumb, and that was an expensive crumb.)

Eventually, it was all over. We had to let the Outsiders in on the pizza bonanza. I could pinpoint the exact minute this happened. When Cletus took one look at the chicken wings and said he wanted to puke, we knew we could not eat another morsel of food. ANY OF US. As a side note, Cletus was quoted a couple of weeks before this tournament saying "I'm going to go buy a bucket of chicken to make me feel better". It's official, we were done.

Who would we blame for this colossal waste of funds, cheese, and tomato sauce? Well, why blame ourselves, when there is a perfectly good pecking order with which to transmit the blame? Inevitably, the blame landed on Russell. Russell is a JV, and also a member of the Outsiders, and so was not involved in any way, shape, or form with the ordering of the pizza. But it was his fault. If you want to know why, take one look at this visual aid.

(Russell and Filatoff. No further explanation is necessary.)

There was one final stop over at the mall Saturday, and since everyone was still avoiding food like the plague. We spent our time buying flashy accessories. Well, except Cletus, who was obviously so devastated from not being able to eat chicken wings that he had to sleep it off (In the middle of Sears, on a Sears-o-Pedic mattress.)

(He still swears he had no idea where that ducky came from)

A Night in the Hat

Due to popular demand (or perhaps the lack of anyone opposed to this) I will tell a sweeping tale of the (mis)adventures of one dysfunctional basketball team forced to spend a night in the far away land known as Medicine Hat.

My tale begins with everyone in a state of anticipation. Unlike our previous hotel stay in Taber earlier in the season, everyone was expecting to stay the night, instead of having it forced upon us by the not-so-graceful hand of mother nature. As such, everyone was laying out plans not to win at basketball, but to do something EPIC enough to stick this weekend in our memories for some time to come. Notice, when I said everyone, I was specifically referring to Alec. Why Alec, you say? Well, If you haven't guessed what he is like from my previous post, well then shame on you....But seriously, these visual aides should complete your mental picture of the guy....

(Alec in a nutshell)

It was safe to say Alec was quite excited. When we arrived at the oh-so-lucky hotel that would be hosting a team of 15 teenage guys, we discovered, much to our dismay, that coach Clayton had assigned us rooms, as opposed to us choosing them. Perhaps coach still remembered "The Taber Incident" (for the sake of my readers, I won't go there). It was a small setback, but everyone eventually worked around it. Sure, we had to sleep in groups, but we don't have to hang out in groups. I already counted my weekend lucky, because my room was spared the calamity of the whole team being in it at once.

We played a game Friday night, but for me to describe how we played would be an insult to this blog and everything it stands for. Instead, I will describe an unusual situation that occurred in that game, and continued into Saturday's games. We were so short on players, that I was required to be in the games regularly. I was to switch playing and sitting the bench with Tyler every 4 minutes. After I got over the initial shock of not having time to pick out the best looking female spectators, I realized it would actually be good for me to get the court experience. I think it was safe to say I was excited. Now, before I describe this situation, I would like to give my readers a little background on who Tyler is......this calls for another visual aid!

(Not actually Tyler, but still Tyler in a nutshell)

So after putting in my 4 minutes, I returned to the bench, to be replaced by Tyler. This was at 6 minutes remaining in the 1st quarter. Later, I am pulled out of basketball mode by Tyler, and at that point I figured I could take a look at the clock. I am shocked to see the clock at 2:30 remaining in the 1st quarter! I was jipped 30 seconds! My mind raced, but I labeled it an honest mistake and moved on. It took me another 3 shifts that were either too long, or too short for my brain to connect the dots. I am going to assume from this point forward that Tyler missed his kindergarten class on counting by 4's, because I'm nice like that.

I will stop rambling on about actual basketball at this point, because the actual fun began afterwords. We arrived at the hotel, milked the cable channels for all they were worth, (if anyone would like to know, that's about 30 minutes), and then everyone (not just Alec, but especially Alec) wanted something new and amusing with which to amuse ourselves. By the way, I know that my last sentence was horrible. I won't have a problem with people correcting my grammar, as long as they don't take it as far as this guy.......

Now I'm sure you won't believe me, but someone in our group found a group of girls to flirt with. It's almost like teenage boys have a radar for that kind of thing. Now the seniors, including I, had no trouble dipping ourselves into the conversation with these girls, but we became suddenly less enthusiastic when they revealed their ages to be considerably younger than ours (the whole process did seem a bit easy). However, this was good news for our JV's (Juniors), who were much more compatible in terms of age. It really was a shame that their girl detector radars hadn't quite evolved yet. Tyler, despite being unable to count by 4's, had a stroke of genius at this point. He suggested we tell our JV's that these girls wanted to see them with their shirts off. Of course, the JV's all believed him, and came waltzing into the lobby shirtless, hoping to create a magical spark of attraction. Little did they know that girls are slightly different from boys, and that day, they each learned an eternal truth of life, summarized by this visual aid.....

(Keep your eyes peeled faithful readers, Part 2 of A Night in the Hat is in the works and will be posted soon!)

Brand New Blog! Oh, and Febreezeiolis.....

Ill keep this introduction brief, because Im sure your all eager to read my awesome material. My name is Carlin, I attend FP Walshe High School in Fort Macleod, and amoung other things, I sit the bench for the FP Walshe Flyers basketball team. This blog will begin by detailing various misadventures that come from riding the pine.

Well, now that we’re back in the daily swing of things, its time to reflect on the epic nature of our last tournament. The first day went a little like this: after braving about 6 vehicle rollovers in the Southern Albertan winter wonderland, we casually enter Willow Creek Composite High School. Well, when I say we, I don’t mean the starters. Andrew, McCauley, even Zach and Cletus had their heads to the floor, apparently in deep thought about how to efficiently draw a foul without looking like a pansy. No not the starters; it was I and the other benchers who waltzed in like we owned the place. My reason for this is simple: My energy has to be devoted to looking imposing. When you don’t have the luxury of showing off skill, skill has to basically come out of your sweat glands. Body language is the keystone of being a benchwarmer.

As far as actual basketball, we came in 4^th place. But notice how I said the tournament was epic in the last paragraph, and I meant it. It was filled with sword fights, defense chants, and discussions on the nature of Febreeze. I didn’t come away with detailed knowledge of the next play, but what I did come away with fresh smelling (although soggy) shoes.

Saturday reminded me of something straight out of The Breakfast Club. After a noon-game (which we lost, and blamed on the fact that we hadn’t woken up yet) we were treated to the wonderful privilege of staying in Claresholm for another 5 hours (I really brushed up on my sarcasm lately). So, I was in a bit of a pickle. I had to replace the warm embrace of a basketball bench with something else in that god forsaken school. So we embarked upon a journey to save our cozy buttocks.

Courtesy of Zach, we found a secret room in an ancient and obviously untouched library. This secret room was referred to on a sign as “the Hawks Nest”. To my surprise, there were no bird droppings, and no angry hawk dive-bombed Tyler’s face when we entered (unfortunately). Eventually, probably due to my charm and animal magnetism, the whole team eventually relocated to this room, which contained two couches and the same amount of leg room as the back seat of a Smart Car (if the Smart Car had a back seat……..think about it!). Now, since rooms generally get stuffy they have people in them, the team numbers dwindled down to 3: Tyler, Alec, and I.

Now, for some reason I can’t explain, none of us left that room. Perhaps it was a sick competition to see who had the highest tolerance for low oxygen; perhaps it was the whole Breakfast Club vibe, where like John and Claire, we thought we had some non-existent principal breathing down our necks. Either way, instead of developing an exit strategy, we found a minty-fresh can of Febreeze in one of the drawers. Or maybe it wasn’t minty; I couldn’t exactly pin down the scent, although it did get pinned down my nostrils multiple times. It really does bring a new definition to the phrase “trigger-happy”. Anyway, I’m sure you can guess what we attempted to do with this Febreeze, given the fact that all of us, as a rule, don’t read the back of aerosol cans (honestly, with the tiny printing, who would?). Soon we realized that it actually was intended for fabrics, as opposed to shoes…..or skin.

By the two hour mark, we had lost all connection to all logical thoughts. We stopped wondering why no one cared that we were not present at an actual basketball game, and started wondering why the Morpheus get-up I purchased at Fields earlier that day (don’t ask) wasn’t giving off the same vibe when I wore it as it did for Lawrence Fishburne in the Matrix movies. I could never really pin that down either. Is it true that the clothes make the man? I used to think that, but these days that theory is in doubt.

Soon after, once the “Febreezeiolis effect” (I’ve just coined that term, trademarks are coming) wore off, we discovered something else to keep us amused. And no, it wasn’t the mountains of books that surrounded us, or even the lonely workstation computer in the corner, it was something even more simplistic. It was a piece of the magazine rack that was wooden and formed the general shape of a sword. The particular name of that piece of wood escapes me, but that didn’t matter once I picked it up and realized that it makes a whoosh sound when I swing it.

What followed was about an hour of perfecting the same 3 repetitive moves with Alec holding the other sword. We figured we would do it the Hollywood way, which is to perfect these moves until they are so fast they actually look badass. By the end we were drawing glances from the other side of the portal to the “real dimension” (read: from outside the library). The best part: some of these glances actually came from the fairer sex, and no, they weren’t “What are these idiots doing?” glances, they were “Wow, they’re actually pretty good” glances. Benchwarmers: 1, Starters: 0.

It’s like I said, when you sit the bench, body language is the name of the game.