Random Ski TripThoughts

I have to disagree with one point Phil made on his blog post about the ski trip. I did bitch about the single guy bunks. I bitched a lot. I will probably still be bitching about the bunk beds until next year. Because that's what I do. They would have been small for a normal person, but were really uncomfortable for those among us who fall into the less than skinny category.

Other than that, the only thing about the cabin I would've changed was the TV situation. With the one common TV being in a rather cramped area, viewing for the games could have been better. Plus, if you're trying to catch the end of Die Hard With A Vengeance, you don't want to have to listen to Brett snoring because he's fallen asleep on a couch in the middle of the day. And you know that's going to happen.

One big plus about the cabin was internet cable since that was the only way I could keep up with the Louisville basketball game. The only drawback was Kevin borrowed my computer while I went to take a shower. I'm afraid to check the history to see where he surfed. Hopefully Norton's kept spyware from downloading from some shemale porn site.

I'll join the bandwagon and thank all the people who cooked. God knows if I had been in charge of cooking, there would have been a lot of meals consisting of Vienna Sausages and Golden Grahams. And probably a lot fewer 2 liters of soda. And most likely we would have found out if the pizza delivery guy would be willing to drive up the hill.

From some of the post ski trip emails, I'm thankful that I don't like beans and won't eat anything with them in it. I had no gastrointestinal problems.

Not to ridicule anyone's belief system (unless you're Muslim, Scientologist or pick up snakes), but why are people worshiping the bear? It's not even a Grizzly.

Best advice from the weekend (from Dave Spitzer) - check out the video of Glenn Danzig getting punched in the face. Nothing like seeing a pretentious prick get punched in the face. Well, unless I'm that pretentious prick. As a bonus, it led me to the greatest Lego video ever.

Worst advice from the weekend (from Brett early Sunday morning) - let's watch Three's Company.

As a product of the '80s, I'm a big Journey fan. However, I must ask a pertinent question. Phil, doesn't that part of your iPod have room for more than 10 songs to shuffle through? Nothing against Damn Yankees, but listening to their one hit 83 times was more than enough.

Take a close look at that foosball table. There's a white (well, tannish) player on the black team. I'm not sure what it means, but it must mean something. Probably that the cabin is run by a bunch of cheap bastards who bought the table at a yard sale.

I've discovered why cornhole is a popular tailgating activity. I play much better while drinking beer over bourbon. Beer is the better tailgate drink. The only time I drink hard liquor at a tailgate is if it's an early game and I have less time to get a buzz on which I need because I don't want to blow $6 on each beer inside the football game but still want the excuse for my obnoxious behavior when I scream obscenities at the cotton candy guy for getting in my way and then promptly vomit on the little old lady who sits in front of me. That's not true. No little old lady sits in front of me. But I digress. I couldn't hit the hole (heh, heh, heh) while drinking bourbon, but did fine with beer. And sobriety doesn't help because Leslie was terrible at cornhole and apparently she doesn't drink.

I was once again astounded by the level of violence associated with Nerf Hoop (and I'm not talking about the anger generated as two unnamed handymen were trying to put them together). It's a wonder no one was seriously injured (although I tried my best).

I had a witty (for me) comment relating the way Cora is holding this bottle to instructions from my high school rifle team on how to fire a weapon properly (it involves something along the lines of "squeeze it, don't jerk it"). On further review, I'm just trying to figure out what headless Melissa is doing in the background. I'm not sure if I would call it a personal failing of mine (actually I find it to be an admirable trait and have no personal failings), but hands on boobage always attracts my attention. Although normally I like it to be my hands on boobage.

Looking through all these pictures, I see a stereotypical Pocahontas wig and a Chinese hat with a Hop Sing like rat tail coming out the back. Quite frankly, I'm embarrassed by the hidden bigotry in all of you. I would elaborate on that, but I'm too busy purchasing some bean soup for next year's ski trip since everyone seems to like beans.

Trivia question: who sang the theme song to the funniest western of all time, Clint Eastwood's TV series and the greatest non-Eastwood/Wayne western movie?

Someone was supposed to break down my barriers on the ski trip, but didn't get around to it. I'm not exactly sure what my barriers are. Or even what the Hell that means. It almost sounds like I'm mentally disturbed. I really don't have a problem with that characterization, but I'm not sure I want my barriers gone especially since I'm not sure what they are. And I'm sure I would miss them when they're gone.

I still haven't found my hammer.

Who the Hell let Jon in this picture? It makes it completely off center.

I was surprised by a picture Phil put on his blog. The one with Vic wearing a UL football jersey. I guess Phil is more tolerant this year. Last year he demanded I take off my Orange Bowl shirt (which made me feel very uncomfortable in his presence). Thumbs up, Phil, for finally learning some tolerance for people whose beliefs are different from yours. At least towards someone who could probably pull your arms out of their socket.

I think a lot of people leave on Sunday so they don't have to be involved in the Monday morning cleanup so Phil doesn't get an extra charge on his credit card. I don't know why they don't do like I do. Stay up late and get up in just enough time that others have already pretty much cleaned up everything. My cleaning skills are about as developed as my cooking skills. If getting the kitchen cleaned up was my responsibility, there would have been a lot of dishes tossed into the woods. After all, my name isn't on any rental paperwork.

Phil often accuses me of blogging while drunk. That is a complete overstatement of fact. However, since sobriety is not expected on ski trip weekend, why should blogging about the ski trip be done while sober? Especially when done while UL is kicking Georgetown's ass.

Finally, I saw a funny sight on the drive back. I looked into the back seat of the Rendezvous, and I saw Phil with his head between his legs. My first thought was I was going to have floorboard stains with vomit being the better option. Then I realized he was just falling asleep. I told him he could lay across the bench seat, but he mumbled something about never taking his seatbelt off while I was driving. It may have had something to do with the fact that I wasn't looking at the road while doing 85 mph in a driving rainstorm. Or it may have been the crank I did while waiting for Dickie's 15 minute bathroom break at Pilot. I mean I did have to stay awake for the drive home. It just reinforced my belief that Phil can be a wuss sometimes. After all, he made it home in one piece.