bə-lō'nē mō'gəls(n.pl.) 1. A group of drinkers with a shredding problem. 2. The combination of snow, booze, and metal.


Spicy Boule, Onesies, and the Snow Lake Lodge

The season's first expedition to Mount Snow and the lovely Snow Lake Lodge (SLL henceforth) started in epic fashion: Kathleen (our newest recruit) was puking in the parking lot, BP gave me a right hook to the mouth, and we all partook in many Coors Originals. Then things got really interesting.

The early season conditions were good, but most of the mountain was not open which was bad. BP was a giant skittle with a sweet ass rainbow vest, one which he received many comments about.

Lunch that day was a trainwreck of profanity, intoxication, Kyle sexually harassing the busboy, and one cold bread bowl of chilie that has christened the raunchiest sexual act ever devised, the spicy boule.

From across the mountain - all weekend that is - we were continually greeted by Crusten's lovely interpretation of "Kyle" which generally included significantly more syllables than one would imagine, and at a pitch that could best be described as one that would offend a dog's ear.

As riding concluded for the afternoon, dumb and dumber (Sweater Vin, a rare Vin T that only appears in mountainous conditions, and "I puke in parking lots" Kathleen) had deaded BP's car, and then spent nearly two hours getting it properly jumped.

We proceeded back to the exclusive SLL, made our trips to the fine local establishments (7-11 and the pizza place) and commenced a classic Boloney night. Many beers were had. Bottles of wine were "crushed." Finlandia was consumed. Yuka and Brian O'Brian arrived to check out the neighborhood brothel on the first floor while simultaneously terrifying, two guests, and I emphasis terrify. And the greatest cover band EVER played the snow barn.
BP also had the great idea of bringing up a dog collar that zaps one if they yell. Many shocks were given, mostly to bad interpretations of The Darkness' "I believe in a Thing Called Love." Last year it was snaps, this year it is voluntary electrocution.

Saturday was a subdued day of calmness and tranquility on the mountain. NOT. It included myself in a red and neon green onesie throwing POWER SEENs all over the hill and some sweet grabs. Kyle got a solid rail in the A and damaged his pride more than anything. DK was rocking the sweet green sweater he is well known for. Brita purified the hills with her sweet filter style. In two hours "Ring 'em out" Kath went from being the a non-skier - to a proskibum with the sketchiest style I have ever seen. She french frys when she should pizza, and does it with style. BP's 210s made an awesome appearance and awed all those on the mountain.

After a final run, cocktails were had at cousin's and the long ride home began. I ate a ton of 'toids and drank a bunch of eggnog.

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