Here’s an idea:
1. Cram half a dozen+ guys into a condo for a week
2. Have them shlep around a mountain ski resort, alternating sitting through 90 minute chunks of pretentious “indie” blige with waiting for a bus in sub-freezing temperatures.
3. Add copious amounts of 3.2 beer (I bring my own stash), bacteria and germs from such far-flung locales as Orlando, FL and Petaluma, CA, and sleep habits that range from “three-toed tree sloth” (Gore) to “ferret on DMT” (Campos).
4. Mix well.
5. Stand back and hope for a relative lack of violence. Oh, and maybe some occasionally coherent reviews.
I love it. God help me, I do love it so.
It almost killed me last year, after all.
I did indeed get the bed and Pete, did indeed come in last night and say “Why can’t I queet you, Don.” It was hot. Our room is called BROKEBACK BEDROOM.
I don’t know why you think you’re getting the bed, rookie.
And especially in the dark.
At least once a night, one of you has to say to one of the others, “Ah wish ah knew how to quit you!” But in a startling way, out of the blue.
I simply cannot wait to bust out a BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN quip on you and Michael since you have bunk beds in my room. My favorite so far is….Pete must be Ennis because he has the top bunk.