As long as I've been a college football fan, I've wanted to attend Rose Bowl week. Floats made of flowers, a matchup of 10s and a New Year's Eve spent in sunny SoCal—is there a better way to kick off the new year? I didn't think so.

And now, after spending the first week of 2008 on assignment in Los Angeles, I can say I know so. Here are 10 reasons why (and a few random thoughts) ...

10. My reason for being in Los Angeles was to report the second of a six-part "This Way to the Draft" story on USC quarterback John David Booty. My photographer friend Mike and I showed up at media day on Sunday to observe the media crush on Booty. Only problem was, there was no crush. Apparently, media types are over the "USC plays Pac-10 underdog" line and opted to cover the Mary Kay Cosmetics Bowl instead. So I listened to Booty answer the few questions thrown his way, and observed how he handled the press (the focus of my story). What I noticed, and found quite interesting, was how easily this city can turn a LA (Louisiana) boy into an LA guy. (How many QBs from Shreveport own Emporio Armani shoes, Seven jeans and designer track jackets?)

9. The Rose Bowl stadium is deceptively ginormous. Being an SEC gal, I've logged the most game time in stadiums built to create the loudest possible atmosphere (Florida, LSU) while taking up the least amount of space. Wanna go bigger? Go vertical. The Rose Bowl, however, is built entirely on one level (much like Michigan's stadium), with rows of seats spread out like a blooming flower. The downside: at times, it might actually be possible to hear a pin drop. The upside: no shade spots and all 93,000 folks have a view of both the field and the mountains surrounding the stadium. I see why players are wooed to this place.

8. Pre-parade festivities. In New York, we have the pre-Macy's parade tradition of watching the blowing up of giant balloons in Central Park. That has nothing on the carnival around float building in Pasadena. Cali folks take their parades very seriously. Us New York folks, on the other hand, were super excited to watch our first Tournament of Roses Parade in person, until we found out it started at 8 a.m.—on New Year's Day.

7. Number 7!

6. USC is in Los Angeles; the Rose Bowl is in Pasadena. It's good info to know.

5. Even a snoozer of a Rose Bowl game has its moments. Like Desmond Reed's front flip into the end zone. Take that, Penn State drum major. Dude's in full pads.

4. I think the media assistant charged with typing game notes giggles every time he types "Booty play action". "Booty, fake" ranks a close second.

3. A roller hockey player is the manager of LA's swanky Sky Bar. Learning this was a crucial step to a silly fun New Year's Eve. Nice one, Lindsay.

2. There are, at last count, around 1.5 million women named Jen Smith living in the greater Los Angeles area. But I'm pretty sure Lindsay, Mike and I had the best one guiding us around town.

1. One of the best things about this job is that, on your travels, you get to spend time with friends who've moved away, and make friends around the country. And sometimes just take friends from home on your trip with you.

Sorry, I couldn't think of a more snappy headline. I wanted to get to the point.

I've been covering action sports at the magazine now for almost three years. And in that time, I've had two very cool experiences/honors. In August 2005, my first cover story, on Mat Hoffman, was the first time ESPN The Magazine put an action sports athlete on the cover.

Now, when the new issue hits newsstands today, Gretchen Bleiler becomes the first female action sports athlete to grace our cover. In 10 years, only a handful of female athletes have been featured, alone, on our cover. And only three action sports athletes. (Shaun White was the third.)

I can't think of a more deserving female athlete. Scratch that. Athlete. Period.

This weekend, I’m in Park City, Utah, for the X-Dance film festival. Think Sundance, but for action sports films. The festival runs alongside Sundance, but with no affiliation. Some great documentary films make their debut here, as they do at Redford’s festival. (At Sundance, ESPN purchased a great documentary called Kicking It, about the homeless soccer world championships. Look for it sometime this year.)

I’m here for the North American premiere of Bra Boys, a film narrated by Russell Crowe about a group of surfers from Maroubra Beach, Sydney, Australia. This is the group of guys I visited in early December and will write about in the magazine in March. Travis Pastrana’s film 199 Lives also premieres here at the festival, on Monday night. Unfortunately, I’ll be on my way to Aspen by then.

The Saturday-night premiere of Bra Boys was the first sell-out in X-Dance history, and the movie was well received. Since it’s already been purchased (by Crowe, Brian Grazer and Imagine/Universal), the filmmakers had no pressure to sell the movie to execs. At the end of March, the film will be released to about 100 theaters across the U.S.

It doesn’t take long to realize Park City is a weird place during Sundance, and much different from the quiet, everyone-knows-everyone ski town it is most every other week of the year. On Sunday, I watched the playoff games at the ESPN party (the second being one of the most fun football games I’ve ever seen), while sitting next to Reggie Bush (the host) and Jamal Anderson (who’s been eating a few too many free desserts) and chatting up a couple of movie producers (and Giants fans). We decided that had they scripted that Giants-Packers game, it would be the most un-sellable sports script in Hollywood. Way too Mighty Ducks to be believable.

At halftime of the Giants-Packers game, Paris Hilton stopped by the party, and so did Matthew Perry and an actor from Dodge Ball whose name I do not know. I ran into a pregnant Jessica Alba on my way to the bathroom, and then saw her practically attacked by a horde of “fans”. I learned that Sarah Jessica Parker is maybe the tiniest person in the world, that Dave Matthews drinks light beer and that Adrian Grenier is one talented guy. After seeing Maroon 5, Velvet Revolver, Little Jon and will.i.am, we caught Grenier’s band, The Honey Brothers, late-night at the Green House on Main Street. He sang, and then played drums, lead guitar and a mean harmonica. And, let's face it, he’s not bad to look at.

Driving from Park City to Aspen always sounds like a good idea, until you’re four hours deep into a six-and-a-half-hour drive. But that’s what my friend Carrie and I did Monday night. It’s sort of a tradition now.

Carrie, a former member of the U.S. Ski team (and a 1994 Olympian) is headed out to Aspen to cover the Winter X Games for EXPN.com, and I’m headed out for the magazine. All in all, it wasn’t a bad drive. We took the long, southern route and avoided icy roads—and basically all people. There were a couple of hours when we didn’t pass a soul on the road. I have to say, after the craziness of Sundance, it was a welcome pace change.

Winter X begins tomorrow afternoon, and the city is starting to fill with athletes, industry folks and fans. (I was a guest on the ESPN The Magazine show on Sirius yesterday, hosted by my bosses Gary Hoenig and Gary Belsky, and talked about the event, and our choice to put Gretchen Bleiler on the cover.)

Carrie and I ran into half the Skier X lineup at the grocery store last night, stocking up for the week. Everyone is excited about the event this year. The largest prize purse in its 12-year history ($1 million) could have something to do with that.

Check out www.expn.com for hourly updates on the events, starting today. They also have a ton of writers out here blogging four to five times a day. They're putting me to shame.

Yesterday morning, the women's snowboard superpipe qualifiers were held here at Winter X. After the contest, a press release went out announcing the scores, and that the top 10 women had advanced to finals. Bleiler qualified first, followed by last year's winner Torah Bright, Kelly Clark ...

Then, about an hour later, a second release went out with a correction: Only 6 women would advance to finals, and in turn, make the television broadcast on Friday night. Six women. Looking at the scores, a "natural break" happened in two spots: at 8th place, and 12th place. Which means some very talented, deserving women will not make the final and will remain unknown to this mainstream market.

The rumored reason for the cut (10 women made finals last year; 10 men make finals this year) is that the X Games wanted to give each woman three runs in the final, instead of two. It's a fairly standard snowboard contest format, and is a positive step forward in the progression of this event. But it shouldn't be a trade-off: more runs for fewer girls. Unfortunately, that's the nature of this "live" format. There's just not enough time to develop new names or new story lines.

But that's what makes mainstream sports exciting—knowing that, each year, a rookie class is coming through with the potential to upset the major stars. Gretchen Bleiler becomes a much more interesting story if those watching know that 16-year-old Ellery Hollingsworth is capable of landing a backside 900 at will, and that youngsters Claire Bidez and Jamie Anderson have the ability, and the desire, to knock her off the podium. What good competition doesn't have a dark horse?

Instead, viewers will be served the same women they've been watching for years, without knowing there are other women out there worth caring about. The organizers believe this format makes the contest more "elite."

Sure. But it also makes it something else: boring.

Today is the final day of the Winter X Games, and so far, it's been my favorite. It started at Poppycocks, my favorite breakfast spot in Aspen. About halfway through breakfast, my friend Seth pointed out, very nonchalantly, that MTV reality TV star Scott Baio, the actor formerly known as Charles, was sitting at the table next to ours. Talk about a weird Winter X celeb sighting. Last night, Ryan Sheckler and the cast of Life of Ryan were hanging out watching men's superpipe qualifiers. It's an MTV reality fest.

After breakfast, we headed to Snowmass, my favorite Aspen mountain, to snowboard for a few hours. The conditions vacillated between sunny and warm to white-out blizzard (mainly at the top of the lifts). I was nearly blown off the lift at one point. Not kidding. After braving the first few hundred yards of a run, the winds died down and we had a fun time riding in the trees, where the wind wasn't so blustery.

Then we hopped the bus and headed to Buttermilk Mountain to catch the ski slopestyle and skiercross contests. So far, the athletes we featured in the magazine have done really well, which is always fun and makes us feel smart. Gretchen Bleiler, our cover girl, won women's superpipe. It was one of the best, most progressive women's snowboard contests I've ever seen. Maybe that's ever taken place. Kelly Clark came damn close to becoming the first woman to land a 1080, but she sketched on her landing. Torah Bright landed a super-technical switch backside 720. And Bleiler did exactly what she promised and added the technical tricks and amplitude she knew she needed to outcore Bright and Clark. On Saturday night, Torstein Horgmo won snowboard big air and 16-year-old Jamie Anderson won snowboard slopestyle. We sure can pick 'em.

Right now, we are bracing for a monster of a snowstorm and hoping the men's snowboard superpipe contest will end before the clouds open. Those of us with flights out of Aspen tomorrow will not be flying out of Aspen tomorrow. So another day stuck in Aspen, snowboarding in 10-20 inches of fresh powder.

On second thought, tomorrow is shaping up to be my favorite day.

PASS BEYOND THIS POINT AT YOUR OWN RISK. BACKCOUNTRY RISKS INCLUDE DEATH.

This is the decision that began today's adventure.

I woke up this morning, slept through my 7 a.m. alarm and ignored texts from my friends insisting I "must be on the first chair". Last night, Aspen received almost 10 inches of new snow, and it seemed sacrilegious that I was choosing a couple hours of extra sleep over first tracks. Looking back, thank god for the rest—and the Poppycocks breakfast.

I got to the Aspen Mountain gondola at 11 a.m., ready to meet up and ride with some friends who work for Red Bull. But the gondola was closed due to high winds, so I took the long route. Four chairlifts and an hour later, I found my friends at the bottom of the Gent's Ridge lift. As I was saying my hellos, Ryan received a phone call. Apparently, Red Bull had recently purchased a company cat, and today was its inaugural trip to the backcountry. "We've got an extra seat," he said. "You want it?"

Did he really need to ask?