Mike B and Ms Sundae are currently passed out on the sofa. The divine Ms U and I hit the slopes at 8, smiling cheerily at employees of Whistler Blackcomb who clearly wished they were elsewhere while we fought off the waves of nausea that drinking far too much alcohol the night before brings.
Skiing with a combination of a hangover and still being drunk is something everyone should do once. And if your level of skiing is the same as mine, then the odds are you will do it only once. And then spend the next year in physiotherapy.
So what of the night before? Its hazy, although I'm pretty sure I had a good time although I sadly didn't wake up 'sticky' as one of our group delicately put it (a euphemism for spotting drunken carnal relations the memory of which is obscured by alcohol, I understand.)
We went to the Amsterdam Cafe, where the bear took a turn. Once with the waitress (see below)
And again with a chap who clearly misunderstood the meaning of the phrase "giving head" (see below)
Other bear related images are sadly censored in order to protect the anonymity of our party. I tried pretty much every drink on the menu before we staggered out into the winter air and back to the hotel to allow the ladies to prepare themselves (being a guy, my preparation consisted of sitting down and saying "are you finished yet?" at regular intervals.
Things went downhill rapidly thereafter. There was a bar. There were shots and then I figured I needed some air. And couldn't find my back to the bar. I'm pretty sure I went somewhere else, did some drunking dialling and somehow made it back to the hotel where it appeared I decided that falling asleep in the lobby was a great idea. Which brings us to the present.
So, all told, a good new year. Although I'm not sure my companions will agree.
