Local Legend Part Deux

There are many theories in circulation as to how Dogballs got his name. One version claims that upon the moment of his birth, the Wikopi shaman presiding over the affair stated loudly, “This boy shall heretofore be known as Dogballs.”
“Why Dogballs?” Dogballs’ father asked.
“Because his balls look like my dog’s,” the shaman replied.
The Wikopi are a literal people.
Another version has Dogballs' early vocabulary limited to these two fateful syllables for the first four years of his life. It was the response to every query (“And how old are you, little guy?” “Dogballs!”), the source of every frustration, the proud exaltation of every private joy. Identity is formed in strange ways.
The third theory involves a hot day and three pounds of ground lamb, but I’d like for my blog to retain it’s Family-Friendly rating, so we’ll leave it at that and instead enjoy this nice shot (taken by Dogballs!) of his new stick nestled amongst the poppys.
Either way, Dogballs is an aficionado of The Glide and rips on all kinds of surfcraft, so he deserves his own model (he’s also 5’18” tall, weighs more than me holding a full-grown St. Bernard with a fifty-pound weight in its mouth, and fires a Browning 12 gauge with a shocking absence of safety considerations). This one's 8ft, features a trim-and-shred style bottom contour and rocker, and a bevy of fin options for the tinker-minded schralper.
Glassing, of course, by Leslie Anderson of Fatty Fiberglass.
Speaking of which, rumor has Leslie relocating to a point waaaaay up north, so if you've been holding out on having her glass your next board, better get to it ASAP. Like, now.

Bad Metaphor Monday (now with more board p0rn!)

Recent claims in HeadHighGlassy that now seem foolish in retrospect:
1. The heat. I recently called out the red-wine-only drinking elite by singing the praises of Chardonnay, an overpurchased and overciticised varietal if there ever was one. Sort of like the Jessica Simpson of beverages. Now that it's raining and 48 degrees inside my house, that seems kind of dumb.
2. Establishing a link between swine flu outbreaks and democratic presidents. This one wasn't me, but it's dumb enough to have made its debut on these very (electronic) pages.
Recent claims in HeadHighGlassy I solemnly stand by:
1. A little board porn always takes the edge off a Monday, even if it's posted after midnight EST.
2. Spring brings out the resin tints like colored boards are ants and spring is a honey-covered dipstick.
Exhibit A: a 7'10 egg for Dexter enthusiast, father, and stoked surfer Danny who sent this picture to enchanting glasser Leslie Anderson. A likeness was requested.
An interpretation, in full resin, gloss, and polish was delivered.
Lokbox rail fin boxes+long center box= more possibilities than a lazor hair-removal technician in a room full of my relatives.
Pointbreak foil.
Pointbreak-friendly orange deck.
Pointbreak-destroying 101 FinCo bamboo quads.
Everything in the above picture was made by hand in California. Even the gravel driveway originated less than a stone's throw (sorry) from my house. I shit you not.