2008, The Beginning
The year two-thousand and eight has arrived. Yet again the Earth made it's way around the sun in a predictable, circular fashion. It's still rotating at a rate of 24 hours a day and still wobbles on its axis and is still free of collisions with other large celestial bodies. After nearly 28 years on this rock, I'm getting a little tired of this hackneyed routine. I'm waiting for a day when the Earth is all, "You know what? Fuck this. I'm over this gravitational pull. Time to get my groove back!"
Robin and I went up to Portland the Saturday before the Monday that would be the New Year's Eve. Eight of us (not including Robin) decided we needed to take a ski trip to Mt. Hood Meadows. Phoenix and I got separated from the rest of our group who decided their time was better spent without us so they totally didn't wait for us to get ready and instead got into line for the bus and headed for the slopes leaving us to wait for the next round of buses which wouldn't come until 20 minutes later by which time the rest of the group had disappeared onto the mountain. It was actually a blessing in disguise, because the majority of my "friends" with whom we went wanted to go snowboarding. That wouldn't necessarily be a problem except for the fact that they were still learning to snowboard and I wanted to ski. I have never tried snowboarding but I know the first day involves a continued and bone crushing acquaintance with one's tail bone. My hypothesis (which is now a scientific Law) was that if I was paying $54 to go skiing for 6 hours, not to mention the $25 equipment rental fee, then I was going to tear that bitch up. And by bitch I mean mountain. And by mountain I mean vagina.
To sum up the day in a pithy narrative wouldn't do the unspeakably awesome nature in all it's glory justice. Considering all the factors (conditions, company, equipment, number of people on the mountain), I had the best skiing day of my life. For reals. Phoenix is a Mt. Hood Meadows veteran, so I followed him. Every time he asked where I would like to go next, I just shrugged and said, "I don't care so long as I'm tearing this bitch up." He snowboarded while I skied behind, floating effortlessly upon the cloud of fresh powder, continually refreshed by freshly falling snow. By the time we carved a run betwixt the Douglas Firs and reached the bottom, our tracks would be newly covered, as if nature herself were rewarding us for being so rad.
The New Year's Eve party was off the hook. I hope your New Year's party was also off the hook, but let me just say that ours wasn't even still in the closet. It was off the hook and dancin' under a disco ball, yo. We rented out the Old Market Pub, we had a fantastic DJ, I won the door prize, and I maintained my level of drunkenness as only a professional can do. We had friends from all over raising the roof with us, some from as far as Hawaii and North Carolina. Friends of friends came because they heard of how amazing the party would be. Might I say, we didn't disappoint. Last year, we completely thrashed Scott's house so it was nice to thrash somewhere else and let them clean it up. To the Old Market Pub: you're welcome for us inviting our alcoholic friends who spent so much goddamn money, you're probably still rolling around in it.
We took down our holiday tree yesterday. We gingerly removed the priceless ornaments, wrapped them in the finest newspaper, and lulled them to sleep until the next winter holiday season. I have unpacked and put away all our presents which were plentiful and given by very generous families (in some cases, "given" means "stolen", but you should see our new bed set!). Looking forward from the middle of December 2007, it seemed as though the list of activities would never end, yet now I can't figure out how it's already the 7th of January, 2008. I suppose if I laid off the heroin for awhile my memory would improve, but all who know me know the likelihood of that happening.
In conclusion, I must admit that I'm not really a "resolution" kind of person. However, being one that holds tradition in a higher regard than his own well being, this year I resolve to care more about places such as The Iraq, such as.
Robin and I went up to Portland the Saturday before the Monday that would be the New Year's Eve. Eight of us (not including Robin) decided we needed to take a ski trip to Mt. Hood Meadows. Phoenix and I got separated from the rest of our group who decided their time was better spent without us so they totally didn't wait for us to get ready and instead got into line for the bus and headed for the slopes leaving us to wait for the next round of buses which wouldn't come until 20 minutes later by which time the rest of the group had disappeared onto the mountain. It was actually a blessing in disguise, because the majority of my "friends" with whom we went wanted to go snowboarding. That wouldn't necessarily be a problem except for the fact that they were still learning to snowboard and I wanted to ski. I have never tried snowboarding but I know the first day involves a continued and bone crushing acquaintance with one's tail bone. My hypothesis (which is now a scientific Law) was that if I was paying $54 to go skiing for 6 hours, not to mention the $25 equipment rental fee, then I was going to tear that bitch up. And by bitch I mean mountain. And by mountain I mean vagina.
To sum up the day in a pithy narrative wouldn't do the unspeakably awesome nature in all it's glory justice. Considering all the factors (conditions, company, equipment, number of people on the mountain), I had the best skiing day of my life. For reals. Phoenix is a Mt. Hood Meadows veteran, so I followed him. Every time he asked where I would like to go next, I just shrugged and said, "I don't care so long as I'm tearing this bitch up." He snowboarded while I skied behind, floating effortlessly upon the cloud of fresh powder, continually refreshed by freshly falling snow. By the time we carved a run betwixt the Douglas Firs and reached the bottom, our tracks would be newly covered, as if nature herself were rewarding us for being so rad.
The New Year's Eve party was off the hook. I hope your New Year's party was also off the hook, but let me just say that ours wasn't even still in the closet. It was off the hook and dancin' under a disco ball, yo. We rented out the Old Market Pub, we had a fantastic DJ, I won the door prize, and I maintained my level of drunkenness as only a professional can do. We had friends from all over raising the roof with us, some from as far as Hawaii and North Carolina. Friends of friends came because they heard of how amazing the party would be. Might I say, we didn't disappoint. Last year, we completely thrashed Scott's house so it was nice to thrash somewhere else and let them clean it up. To the Old Market Pub: you're welcome for us inviting our alcoholic friends who spent so much goddamn money, you're probably still rolling around in it.
We took down our holiday tree yesterday. We gingerly removed the priceless ornaments, wrapped them in the finest newspaper, and lulled them to sleep until the next winter holiday season. I have unpacked and put away all our presents which were plentiful and given by very generous families (in some cases, "given" means "stolen", but you should see our new bed set!). Looking forward from the middle of December 2007, it seemed as though the list of activities would never end, yet now I can't figure out how it's already the 7th of January, 2008. I suppose if I laid off the heroin for awhile my memory would improve, but all who know me know the likelihood of that happening.
In conclusion, I must admit that I'm not really a "resolution" kind of person. However, being one that holds tradition in a higher regard than his own well being, this year I resolve to care more about places such as The Iraq, such as.
posted by Infused Confusion at
3:00 PM
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