I've returned from Mammoth Mountain in one piece. I survived continued skiing for three days. I was originally supposed to be back in Los Angeles Thursday night, but the plans were scrapped since it's not very often I actually go skiing, and a chance to look like a baked potato in my ski gear.
Overall, the weather was fine. I say fine, since I don't do well in temperatures below 70 degrees. I know, I know... I am a big pussy, but growing up in an oven such as Tucson doesn't make you readily set for the snow and cold. Thank heaven for the heat in the room... even tho the lodge could smell like rusty stale farts at times. As immature as it sounds, it did!
Upon arriving back in Los Angeles, I finally took in a highly anticipated movie experience: My Bloody Valentine 3-D! I will say that I was pleasantly surprised and entertained. The pacing was well done, the acting was slightly higher quality for a slasher flick, and the 3-D trickery was, well, fucking spot on. Seeing blood spewing and airborne body parts flying from the screen was a treat in itself. I left the theater a happy little gore hound.
And the hand coming through the faux glory hole in the men's room after the movie was not so much of a treat than a rude awakening that evil lurks at every dark corner. Or in the guy in the other stall's case, a quite brightly lit and heavily traffic'd corner. Hence, why he was hanging out in the men's room looking for cock in the first place.
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