Tuesday, January 13, 2009


Look at me getting my pretentious on.

Our upcoming two-day ski trip to little ol' Massanutten has reminded me yet again that I do not have appropriate ski (and apres-ski) gear, so I've been working on getting it.

I've never owned the ski pants that are flattering...when I first learned to ski I had those awful bibs. (True story: I went on a ski trip to Mount Tremblant, Canada with a bunch of people from my high school when I was a sophomore. My parents bought me a gorgeous ski jacket, but for some reason, I also bought those awful plastic-y bibs that make the skinniest person look like the Michelin Man. And the ones I bought were very, very tight (yes, it was a good look...jealous?). I was skiing on one of the trails that was about four miles long and had just learned to do that little maneuver where you kind of hop in the air and turn your skis sideways to stop -- and as I did this, the inseam on my too-tight bibs ripped from ankle to ankle. It seemed like it was in slow motion and was quite cartoon-like. Of course, I had only long johns underneath...so I skied for two miles with bibs flapping like giant flags in front of and behind me. I didn't have a boyfriend in high school. Coincidence, no?)

Another true story: because we were in high school, all of our evening activities revolved around trying to find ways to drink. Some of my friends and I went to a strip club because we heard that our fake IDs would work there. My memories of this place include seeing one very-pregnant dancer and ordering a strawberry daiquiri (nothing screams "I'm an of-age sophisticated drinker" like a strawberry daiquiri), and being served strawberry milk with vodka in it.

Anyway, I recently bought some nice ski pants, and even went so far as to find some totally cute apres-ski boots. Total overkill for two days in Massanutten where I'm guaranteed to spend 100% of my time on the bunny slope with Avery. I don't care, as long as I end the day with them intact.

(P.S. I just ran this through spell check and learned that I spelled "daiquiri" wrong initially...I'll wear that as a badge of honor.)


JenBC said...

Love the flapping bib visual. At least you were wearing underwear. I still can't believe that some people ski naked in CO in the spring. Or maybe their bibs all just "happened" to rip off like yours.

Hope you all have fun on the slopes!

Ri. Short for Maria. Not pronounced like the bread. said...

Ahhh, the Mount Tremblant trip! The one I SOOOOO wanted to take, but couldn't because my parents clearly hated me and wanted me to have no social life WHATSOEVER. Thanks for mentioning that, oh great-bearer-of-salt-for-wounds.

Here's to all your pre, during and apres gear remaining whole, and family fun abounding. Bring back photos...and a sweatshirt.

Wait - there's SPELLCHECK...?

Brutalism said...

Let's review, Ri, your parents saved you from a lifetime of humiliation (and subsequent therapy). It took years to erase that awful experience from my memory. (Okay, it took about 30 minutes and a few strawberry milk-n-vodkas)...

Dilettard07 said...

Why would a strip club have Strawberry Quik on hand? Just wondering out loud here.

Brutalism said...

Dilettard07 - love that your comment on the strip club is not about why they'd have a very pregnant stripper (hott!), but why they'd have strawberry Quik (registered trademark) on hand. They prolly kept it on hand to serve to 16-year-old Americans who would not complain as long as they were getting alcohol along with it. Quite a business model, actually.

Dilettard07 said...

Actually, since you mention it, the Strawberry Quik was probably for the strippers' kids normally. There was probably a daycare room in the back. That kind of socialist stuff is probably mandated in Canada.