WhutsHappening

Glorious Oregon pt.4 (Part One)

We awoke in a little bit of a daze and donned sunglasses to go the The Black Rabbit Grill for breakfast.  I think I got an omelete but I can't really remember.  I know I got a bloody mary.  This and a smoke started out the day right, and after a little hanky-panky back at the room, it was time for golf.  I'd been trying to train for the occasion by golfing my local course, but it turned out it was just a pitch and put.  I borrowed a sand wedge and putter, bought a couple cigars, and yes, a pint, and we were on our way.  Sara chose to come out with the boys instead of tie ribbons with the girls (which later became a small point of contention.  Bridesmaids, keep in mind that to be a good Bridesmaid, you must not only satisfy the brides verbal requests, but also read her mind!).  It was me and Sara, Dane, Sara's cousin (all 6' 7" of him) and Chris, one of the other BM's fiance's (why is it that marriage seems to spread like a virulent infection.  Really...).  Chris was kicking all of our asses at first, basically by not playing like an idiot while we did.  It is amazing how hard a simple par 3 course can be if your first shot sucks.  The raging Oregon sun sucked the beer from our veins so we looked over every rise and fall for the drink cart, but lo, it was not there.  Somewhere around the 10th hole (of 21) we sent the now over-golf Sara back to the beer shack.  Now mind you we had some dozen foursomes on the course, all dudes, and all experiencing the same beer-withdrawals; but somehow my baby made it past the $100 dollar bribes to bring us two pitchers of Rubenator across the rolling hills-she may have had a halo, at this point, I believe. 

After giving up on whacking the little white balls, Sara became the ball retriever/discoverer.  I believe she found an average of 3 balls a hole over the last 10 holes, with the bramble-cuts to show how commited her search had been.  I worried about her bleeding, she worried about what the bride would say...

After a bit of time to clean up, the reception barbeque was fast-approaching.  Sara and I got into our slightly fancy clothes (once you move to the islands, your 'dress-up' clothing doesn't go beyond linen pants and a button-up shirt-a fact that I have no problem with) and decided to, you guessed it, grab a drink.  True to McMenamins high standards of random perfection, right past Sara's mom's room was a tiny little pub (called such, I believe).  We split a beer and a quessadilla, but were caught by Nicole, who kindly hid her concern as she explained that there was going to be lots of food at the barbeque.  We felt mothered, but understood.  It must be hard being a bride-kind of like putting on a show for your whole family, with a cast that only gets to practice once, and it is taped, live.  Salon.com had a great article on drawing the line as a bridesmaid that talked about requests for cosmetic surgery, and/or fitness programs.  My favorite was the bridesmaid for a mormon, who wasn't a mormon, and was asked to stand outside the church and ask people "Are you a believer in Jesus and the Book of Mormon?" and if not, not let them in the temple.  I am sorry, but Mormons just don't make any sense in the end, no matter how rich they are...

The barbeque was dank, and though it was just gourmet burgers, potato salad and chips, I'm sure it was like three grand, not counting the open bar.  I was in charge of the music, and I found an outlet and hid the Ipod dock in the shrubs.  Dire Straits, Jack Johnson and others played while the guests took thier seats.  Another priceless feature of weddings is the slapdash variety of ages and types of people, and the desultory development of thier interactions.  Sara and I sat next to Chris and Verinda, as well as the random cousins who spent most of the time discussing thier Magic Cards tip books, and the corresponding powers of thier main characters.  One of the kids was probably 12, and the other, of course, was only like 9.  I tried to talk magic with them to no avail-sometimes I am such an ignorant bastard.

TBC...

Glorious Oregon Pt. 3

International Week

So for those of you who have been die-hard Wuts-Happening fans, you may have noticed we've limited our little travel stories to places in the 50 US States (except for Ryan's trip to Rosarito, but that doesn't really count because Baja Mexico is basicaly just a dirtier southern extension of Imperial Beach).

Well, now it's time to go global baby!

Summer's coming up and what better time to do a little traveling than during those couple months between the end of school and the beginning of not being able to use school as an excuse? I can think of none.

So get ready for us to share the world with all of you dirty little bastards. We're talking joints in Rome, chicks with armpit hair, debauchery down under and everything else that makes this world truly a fascinating and diverse place.

So check back in tomorrow for Billie B.'s blog about OZ and get ready to do a little globe-trotting without leaving your living room, right here on your favorite little travel blog www.wuts-happening.com.

Thank you for your attention and cooperation,

The Management

Wut's happening now?

Okay, for the couple die hard WH fans out there - and the hundreds of people who hate our little site but, like a donkey show or a bad car accident, can't look away - you might have noticed a few changes. We look a little more professional, we've added more categories, and if you looked closely you might have even noticed a few new writers. That's right, our humble little 2-person blog has become a full blown, 4-person blog; yes, we've doubled our staff and that means we've doubled our scope. These two crazy new bastards come from two complete opposite sides of the country and have two completely different ways of viewing travel. They do share one thing, though: an addiction to off-the-beaten trail, authentic and comical, satirical, and at times dark stories to recount about their various travels all over this rotten country - and the world.

The first new guy we added, Billie B., is Oregonian by birth, Marylander by family location, and Hawaiian by choice. He lives in a little beach shack, or so he says, on the beach island and eschews such mainstream conventions as television and a girlfriend who lives on the same continent. He's lived in like Europe and Australia, plays guitar in some damned hippie surf reggae band, and used to get lit off Pepe Lopez tequila with Ryan back in the day when we were both first learning to play the git box. He's an explorer in every meaning of the world; possibly a little more respectable, a little less interested to the substance abuse embraced by the rest of us, but nonetheless subversive in the fact that he's looking to live as far outside of the box as possible.

De(V)ito is a fiendish East Coaster with an unquenchable thirst and hunger for experiencing the creme de la creme. A connoisseur of the finer things in life, his posts are always a tour of the finest ballparks, the best local foods, and the most perfect microbrews in every random corner of this great country. And he's a true authority on these things, an obsessive cataloguer who's always had the most refined palate for the good life - for fuck's sake, this kid started a Gentleman's Lounge in his bedroom in high school, a place where all the who's who could hang out, drink sophisticated booze drinks, and smoke Bob Marley cigars. His posts are full of the right meals, drinks, sporting events or concerts spliced in with a bit of humor to bust your gut.

And of course there's still Kyle and Ryan. Those two bastards are still at it, still pumping out their twisted little tales of debauchery spanning all corners of this great country. Keep up to date on these two crazy brothers' blogs in Uncle Ryno's Campfire Stories or whatever gay name he gave it and Pile of Kyle. And for fuck's sake, share this goddamned blog with your friends!!!!

Thank you for your readership - we promise we'll keep getting better if you promise to keep reading and spread the word.

Keep the hope and remember, fuck the gapers!!

- The Management

SPRING BREAK!!

It's currently 80-some degrees out here in California, March Madness is just around the corner, and these two come together to mean one thing - it's time for Spring Break!

Now there may be those of you saying "Spring Break - That's only for college kids." And while you would be right that college kids go on Spring Break, you would be wrong and an ignorant asshole to make an asinine comment saying that they own its exclusive rights. Along those same lines, we're not really talking about that Real World Cancun/Dirty roided out frat dudes and retarded sorority girls ( no offense to any members of the Greek system, I'm referring to the other ones, not you) get-drunk-on-a-beach-for-a-week-while-throwing-gorilla-pick-up-lines-at-STD-filled-co-eds trips. While they may be fun to watch on Girls Gone Wild, they make for some lousy travel stories.

Spring Break is about that epic release after a long harsh winter (yes, the winters in California do get kinda cold and recently we've been going through monsoon season). It's an arbitrary excuse to travel when you don't have the open window of a college week off to dictate your purpose but it being Springtime is as good as any reason to buy some tickets somewhere fun and spend a week getting absolutely twisted wtih friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, animal friends, and even your drug friends. Because, hell, what are drug friends for if not Spring Break, right?

So for the rest of the month, we're gonna be throwing together a couple dirty little excuses for some rotten voyages of debauchery. From Caribbean islands to A1A, from the mountains to Vegas and everywhere in between. We'll be recounting it to give you some ideas of where to go, what to see, and set that bar for how far you can take your debauchery. Because really, that's what Spring Break is all about - an enormous mental shit, fueled by substance abuse and the adrenaline of travel, to propel you through the remaining months of your school year, your kid's school year (Jesus, who has kids?), the rainy season back East, or  . . . uhh . . . well just to go somewhere exotic and get shitfaced for a few days for those who live in California (where, admittedly, it's basically Spring year-round).

So check back in tomorrow to read the first story, about alcohol poisoning, tits, and tires in Daytona Beach, Florida.

And remember: he who travels like everybody else only sees what everybody else sees. But those who travels on their own path - they're the real winners.

Cheers! (Spring Break 2k8!!!)

RA & KA

The End of Snow Week

Like all epic Snow Trips, benders, and Brit-Brit's career, snow week - although stretching out to actually 2 weeks - must come to an end.

When we first started this blog, our main goal was based around the idea that the average tourist guides, whether it be Outdoor Magazine or aol Live seemed to be catered to middle-aged divorcees, mid-30's yuppie couples, or respectable, clean, old-fashioned sober and drug free athletes. Which we are not. We wanted to read about people who want to experience everything about a place, not just the wheres and the hows but the whys and the huhs? - all while altering their vision and slurring their words so as to completely change the worldview and perspective. Traveling's like music. There are only so many chords and most people are content to slided up and down the G scale for the rest of their lives. But what about those who venture outside the rules of harmony and scale to create something uniquely dissonant? We'd like to think of ourselves as those people.

While ski trips are about skiing, first and foremost, they should also be about sucking the life dry out of every moment in the high alpine, shredding every run, finding every hidden nook and powder stash, drinking every shot, pounding every beer, and dancing at every bar while every dirty hippie musician plays acoustic guitar for a packed house full of mountain-dwelling derelicts.

We hope these stories, while somewhat funny and interesting, opened your eyes to a few new mountains, a few new  runs, and gave you a few new ideas about how to best enjoy your trip - and how debauchery and epic shredding really do go hand in hand.

So get out there, plan your trip, throw your friends in the truck with a few cases of beer, an eighth of dank, and a bottle of Jack and drive! goddammit, DRIVE! Full speed with the wind in your hair and the drugs in your bloodstream and every intention of charging life, and in this case your nearest mountain, to the fullest. And most importantly, remember DON'T BE A FUCKING GAPER!!!

Thank you for reading our shitty little blog. Spread the word and if you have any good stories usually told around the campfire after a few beers and a phatty bowl, please send them our way.

Happy travels you fucking derelicts,

Ryan and Kyle Ariano

AKA "The Management"

Snow Week

So with President Weekend just a few weeks away (and inspired by all this fresh SoCal snow and the X-Games), we decided to share a couple funny stories that might just give you some ideas for that legendary 4-day mid-ski-season weekend. And remember, Valentine's day takes place just before  - what better way to treat that special somebody the way they deserve than by dropping them off with professional instructors while you go off and enjoy the only sport that's more fun when you do it on your own. Everybody has a great day and at night, there's nothing better than a good steak, some good booze, and a little hot-tubbin' with the one you lov . . . er, your Valentine. Of course, if you're a guy on the prowl, there's no girl better than a snow-bunny  - and if you're a girl on the hill, snowbros know where it's at. And these breeds of the opposite sex, those who live for the adrenaline and clarity of the high alpine, are legendary for getting after it way into the latenight. 'Cuz fuck, what's a better cure for a hangover than a Bloody Mary and some freshies? And what's a better cure for sore muscles and bruises than lots of booze?

For all of these reasons, we are dedicating the next week or so to the pursuit of the fresh white stuff. East Coast, West Coast, Rockies; flights, roadtrips, and local stories; respectable All-American kids riding down hill as well as ski-based, substance-drenched mountain debauchery. We'll report on it all - make sure to keep checking each day for some new mountain locale, profiled, as always, in Whut's Happening.

And if any of you have some good trips of your own, please don't be shy to share. Add your story as a comment - we may even repost it the next day and then you can say you're a famous blog author like Perez Hilton and that foreign chick with the political blog.

Tomorrow: A roadtrip to Killington, Vermont with two dirty Marylanders and a respectable Philadelphian. Make sure you don't miss it.

Enjoy - The Management

What the hell is this shit?

Two summers ago in August of '06, two brothers went to Vegas on a shoestring budget and $200 available on their mom's credit card. Their final day in town, while standing in the Desert Walkway of shops in the Aladdin (now the Planet Hollywood Hotel) watching the lamest fake rainstorm attraction two people ever waited a half-hour for, they decided that they needed to create something that had a purpose, that was valuable to society, and that they could run without spending too much time in R&D.

The two then slid into telling stories back and forth about different travels they'd had, Ryan mostly in throughout the Southwest and Kyle up and down the Eastern Seaboard. They talked about certain spots each of them had found while living in or visiting some rad locales all over the world and then they mentioned the fact that the best and most memorable places are off the beaten path. Sometimes way off.

Ryan mentioned how the biggest thing he learned by living in Steamboat and Jackson Hole is that it pays to be a local and to know the locals. Kyle mentioned how the local Kiwis had shown him how much better a place can be when you don't follow the tourist books or the "AOL Live" location websites. Thus was born a subversive travel site, geared towards letting people like them - that is, people who like to party, who like to explore, and who absolutely don't ever want to be seen even somewhat close to a tour guided group. They decided to go online and search all the best locations in the US and find good websites that outlined the good bars, music, all that shit - basically sites that were the most tied in to the legit local scenes that derelicts such as the Arianos and their merry bands of miscreant friends might find amusing if stuck in a city following a sports team or on a business conference - or just looking for a rad experience on a vacation.

So open that shit up and you get two boys who wanna share local and random travel knowledge to the likeminded subversive travelers out there. The next step - let's get some original content in there. So the Arianos started writing up some of their travel stories, sharing travel photos and posting some geographic video footage, hopefully giving people some good ideas or at least something to take people out of their sedentary cubiclated lives for a few minutes every day with satirical, insightful, and downright subversive travelogues.

So the final step (and the one you can help with): your stories and shit. Do you have a decent travel story, a ridiculous accounting of a voyage to a wild destination, or just some simple local knowledge you wish to share with the management, send it in. Same goes for those hours of footage or rad little pics somebody might think interesting: If you know us, just e-mail it to us or MySpace or Facebook message it to us. If you don't, add it as a comment under the last travel story. We'll check it out and if it works, we'll repost it the next day. If not, we'll delete it. Sorry, that's just how it goes.

Just FYI - for now, let's keep it to just the US - there's enough here to explore, we'll wait a bit before tackling the rest of the world.

Hope you enjoy and if this doesn't help your travels go any better. hopefully it's at least somewhat amusing for those of you who think that life is a journey worth exploring to the fullest.

Remember: true travel is nothing more than getting lost in an organized fashion. If you do it right, you'll soon find yourself in a much different world than the one you left in the first place.

Happy Travels you disreputable fucks,

R Ano and K Ano, 1/'08