Paddling Since: 94
Join Date: Oct 2003
Chunderboy Thanks The Hippies
To all the hippie nerds out there who were so kind to fork up five dollars per balloon at Widespread Bullshait last weekend the Chunderboy thanks you. Thanks to your overwhelming generosity, I now have a brand new Kingpin 6.1 to play with, and Jeter and I are thinking about taking a little trip south of the border to celebrate our new cash flow. I'd also like to send a shout out to the Denver Medical Ctr, for without their half assed security, none of this would have been possible. Ironic isn't it, that the very people for whom the Chunderboy harbors the littlest amount of respect, the front rangers, could unwittingly finance a new boat, and a trip to Central America? A true player profits from the ignorance of his enemies, and the Chunderboy, as we all know is a true player. Thanks again everyone. Oh yah, I almost forgot, Elmer and I dialed the right line yesterday on the Death Ferry rapid at Cross. We decided to rename the rapid the Chunderferry. If any of you choads out there think you got what it takes to hang in my crew, then give the Chunderferry a shot....it's pure gnarl one slip up and your ass could be Kavorikianed for good, later biatches!
Chunderboy’s Cross Mountain Adventure
Hey Brahs! Thought I'd fill you dorks in on a little adventure me and my Steamboat posse had yesterday out at Cross. We set out of the Boat at about 3PM-(standard slacker time for laid back brah crew), anyhow, after a flat tire, and some Craig City Market fried chicken we were off to run the canyon. At 4 grand its obvious that one needs to bring their A game to Cross or suffer an ass kicking of the first order. After dialing Dowd Chute and Lower Mish at high water the Chunderboy was up to the stout challenge, sorry to say, others in the group where not so lucky. After I greased the Osterizer ,(up the gut- like you didn't already know, Chunderboy always runs the meat, sneaks are for Chachies and Front Range park and play wimps), I sat down upon a rock to eat some Kremling jerky, and check out my brah's lines. Elmer's been having a bad season, 15 swims, all class 3 and 4- he got #16 on the sneak line of all things and yard saled his boat and one of my many AT paddles. My boy took off after the boat with our rookie prodigy, Jeter, in tow. One guy broke his paddle and, and Jeter pulled out and went swimming blind toward Death Ferry. I flawlessly paddled the Death Ferry (no scout needed) and rounded the corner to find Jetter puking his guts out and playing with his nut sack, he was humming some 80's Howard Jones and seemed all together to be rather out of it. Had my boy suffered a concussion? As I pondered the brilliance of my own solo line, and the wave I had been forced to bypass above the Ferry, I couldn't but to smile, Chunderboy is getting it done, so what if Jeter was sitting there singin' " Whoa oh oh oh ah oh ha, thing can only get better...", I had dialed my line! After much puking and some peculiar nut fondling, Jeter came to and was ready to walk his sorry ass out of Cross. My boy with the broken paddle was there to lend moral and physical support to the hobbled Jetter on the two-mile walk out. As for myself, I was back on the river, basking in the glory of my radness, look out all you fine Biaches, Chunderboy was wave wheeling and donkey flipping his way to the take out. Ironically, what was waiting for the Chunderboy at the take out was not Vivid Contact Girl Kobe Tai, but some choad Ranger from Maybell with a mullet to beat the band. The guy looked like the bass player for 38 Special, and given his backwoods, Deliverance-esc accent, I wonder how the sorry bastard ever got his patches (no badge on this beer gutted piece of Moffat County trash). The guy had the nerve to act concerned about Jetter, it seems some redneck fisherman had called the police when Jeter's Medieval ( covered in sponsorhip stickers) came floating solo out of the canyon. He ran all our IDs and went on and on about some stupid jet boat, I noticed a tiny bulge starting to form in the crotch of his Wranglers as he discussed the way the jet boat can navigate the first 100 yards of the canyon. Unbeknownst to the Chunderboy Ranger #### had more on his mind than our groups welfare- my youngest brah, Darrell had an outstanding warrant for underage drinking- the Ranger was getting a stiffy thinkin' about having a young boy toy like Darrel all to himself in the Moffat Cty jail. At around 8 PM Jeter came out of the canyon and we all headed back to Steamboat. At about 8:30 PM we were pulled over outside the Brown Nugget Motel in Craig. Ranger #### was there, little bulge and all, he was foaming at the mouth like some demented rabid dog, he cuffed and stuffed Darrell, and after giving me a roadside sobriety check said it was OK for me to drive the truck to the ATM- to get the meager $300 this whole ordeal was about. 4 and half hours later, 1AM, Craig’s finest had succeeded in filling out the necessary paperwork, and Darrell, thanks to my monetary affluence, was able to avoid the old broomstick up the crack routine. A dejected and blue-balled park ranger would have to go home to his doublewide and dream of what might have been. Final score- Brahs win, pigs lose. Maybe next time losers, have fun livin out there in Moffat and stoking your peckers- Chunderboy rules, you guys still suck-later biatch!