Playful, elegant, and not above the judicious use of the word “shit."

Moonbeam Lift, Solitude Ski Resort

  • Sorry, ‘Manda. What’s the penalty for missing a Python reference?

    Please be gentle with me. And by that, I mean, flog me like a rented monkey.

  • Did you guys ever fantasize about Count Chocula, Frankenberry, and Boo-Berry in a slippery gay threesome involving a bowl of milk?

    Or, uh, was that just me?

  • Wait. They brought back Count Chocula? Frankenberry, too?

  • Well, I sure wouldn’t bite the bottom on a hand-crank donkey.

  • If they bring back the Count and Frankenberry, can Boo-Berry be far behind?

  • Ern

    Hey, ‘manda B.!

  • Hi all – where are the drinks?

  • Ern

    Wooo-eeee, BFE, that was a strong one!

  • Bucky! You electric donkey bottom biter! 😀

  • The thumbnail changed, and for some reason, the pic for next Saturday is its target.

    Donde esta, casa de pepe?

  • Ern

    And Shakespeare? Where’s the usual poop and bloody ice cube discussions!?

  • Aaaah, you people who got the day off: I FART in your general direction!

  • Ern

    If Part-timer is still here, thank you very much, I had a lovely weekend with my awesome grandmother-in-law. And we both had some black, strong coffee!

  • squish

    A little weird…kind of fun!

  • Ern, you want the ice cube talk, it can happen.

  • Ern

    I just commented on a picture that says Saturday Feb 26th. Huh? Confused Ern!

  • squish

    Am I in a twilight zone episode? What happened to Grandmas house? Was I BLACKLISTED?

  • Ern

    I’m back,
    I keep commenting and then bouncing around to other sites with a severe case of holiday weekend ADD.

  • Susie

    Hey, I wanna play, too!

    “Love is not love
    Which alters when it alteration finds,
    Or bends with the remover to remove:
    O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
    That looks on tempests and is never shaken;”

    Shakespeare Sonnet #116 (also inscribed on a locket my husband gave me; that’s why I know it)

  • Dang- You are weird. I like you.

  • Hey guys. That’s all. Hey!! Can’t read all the fucking comments these days. But HEY!!

  • And don’t worry Circus K, I too have no speeches to spout. The ones above sure are pretty though.

    Besides, Dooce=Culture. So you’re covered!

  • it doesn’t really matter but…

    isn’t it ‘sic’ in the pow. i mean, unless you actually were sick…which I hope wasn’t the case:)

  • Rock and roll man ROCK AND ROLL!

  • CK- I just like to read, and i got bored one summer and all i could find was my grandpa’s copy od As You Like It. this did lead to me reading more, and then i had to read some in HS. now, i am going to school in Cincinnati, and i can usually find time to usher at the Cincinnati Shakespeare Festival, which lets me see the plays for free. i just got lucky.

    and if you want access to shakespeare look here
    http://www-tech.mit.edu/Shakespeare/works.html

  • Dr. Johnny Fever,
    Tangent, but speaking of Octopussy,have you seen these Socktopi?

    http://www.buyolympia.com/q/sid=991432688/Item=deluxsockto

    I love you Mr. Socktopus!

  • Damn Dang… you’re awfully long winded… I thought you’d never finish that damned soliliquy… 😉

  • LilyOTF: That is beautiful. I feel so… lacking in culture. I don’t even have a favorite speech.

  • Ern

    Hi, all. Hope everyone had a good weekend!

    I haven’t read all the comments, but that picture makes me HURT I miss the Utah mountains so much. Oh, beautiful snowy Big Cottonwood Canyon.

  • Great photo!

  • Hey Ern!!! How was your weekend with your borrowed awesome grandma?

  • My name peaked in the 70’s. Woo.

  • i had to. that is my favorite speach.

  • Matt Damon

    Geez, Dang.

  • Ben Affleck

    Oh lighten up Matt..

  • jeff c.

    Oh Yeah!!! Been there, done that. Loved Solitude!

  • *To those who dream*

    O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
    She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes
    In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
    On the fore-finger of an alderman,
    Drawn with a team of little atomies
    Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep;
    Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders’ legs,
    The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
    The traces of the smallest spider’s web,
    The collars of the moonshine’s watery beams,
    Her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash of film,
    Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
    Not so big as a round little worm
    Prick’d from the lazy finger of a maid;
    Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
    Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
    Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers.
    And in this state she gallops night by night
    Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love;
    O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on court’sies straight,
    O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees,
    O’er ladies ‘ lips, who straight on kisses dream,
    Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
    Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
    Sometime she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose,
    And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
    And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail
    Tickling a parson’s nose as a’ lies asleep,
    Then dreams, he of another benefice:
    Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck,
    And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
    Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
    Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
    Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
    And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
    And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
    That plats the manes of horses in the night,
    And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
    Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
    This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
    That presses them and learns them first to bear,
    Making them women of good carriage:
    This is she–

    True, I talk of dreams,
    Which are the children of an idle brain,
    Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
    Which is as thin of substance as the air
    And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
    Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
    And, being anger’d, puffs away from thence,
    Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

    Exeunt

  • Nickie

    Long time reader, first time commenter (heehee, always wanted to say something like that).

    I just wanted to commend your bravery. I have this completely rational fear of going up in a chair lift and forgetting to get off (okay, being too scared to do it) and getting dumped off the top and plummeting some distance (during which my ass would magically be on display) a’la A Christmas Story (the plummeting part, not the ass part).

    So kudos to you, oh brave one.

  • *Dang Cold enters the empty stage as Hamlet and begins*

    To be, or not to be–that is the question:
    Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
    The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
    Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
    And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep–
    No more–and by a sleep to say we end
    The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
    That flesh is heir to. ‘Tis a consummation
    Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep–
    To sleep–perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub,
    For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
    When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
    Must give us pause. There’s the respect
    That makes calamity of so long life.
    For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
    Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely
    The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,
    The insolence of office, and the spurns
    That patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,
    When he himself might his quietus make
    With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
    To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
    But that the dread of something after death,
    The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
    No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
    And makes us rather bear those ills we have
    Than fly to others that we know not of?
    Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
    And thus the native hue of resolution
    Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
    And enterprise of great pitch and moment
    With this regard their currents turn awry
    And lose the name of action. — Soft you now,
    The fair Ophelia! — Nymph, in thy orisons
    Be all my sins remembered.

    –flourish–

    *Exit*

  • James, shouldn’t you be home picking the lint out of your Octopussy?

  • There’s a lot of Katie/Katy/Kate girls here. I’m a Katy meself (from Kathleen).

  • James Bond

    nice pic….NOT!!!!

  • Lily – I haven’t read a SW book since the original (still have my very yellowed copy from 1977). I read a lot, but very little science fiction.

  • CM- so, do you read any of the books, or do you just like the movies. i used to like all the books, and then they veered of into the New Jedi Order series and they killed Chewbacca. They lost me after that. R. A. Salvatore should have been stopped, or shot.

  • I’m missing so much and it’s bathtime. Back later. Hi guys!

  • Ashik said: “My name didn’t make it at all. :(”

    You should be proud! Your name is totally unique.

  • Lily, I love you, you big geek.

  • Thank you CM. I never thought all that reading would pay off. (Exept as a Jeopardy question)

  • Snow makes me feel delicious. Especially when I pour vodka over it…then I’m not only delicious, but I’m also a professional stripper as well. Well, that what they say down at the farm. Errr…the farm being my house, in my bedroom, with my boy.

    that is all.

  • Kashyyyk is the Wookie home world, for those of you that have not spent away too much money on sci-fi books.