THIS IS SCIENCE!!!

Hot, tasty, determined-via-a-rigorously-tested-hypothesis SCIENCE!!!1!

My dear friend Lovey Thurston Howell III and I just saw the movie Juno. Great film. (SUMMARY - NO SPOILERS: Wes Andersony-ish, great soundtrack of obscures, people being way more fantastically articulately odd than possible but still human enough to relate to, etc.)

Anyway, let me fruitlessly bitch about the drivers we encountered on the road instead of raving about a movie you've all already seen. Lovey Thurston and I have realized after extensive research:

Dodge Caravan drivers = dillweeds

Pontiac Grand Am drivers = fuckwads*

Toyota Corolla drivers = jizzdangs**


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*Which we all already know.
**UNLESS that Corolla is a 1992 or older, in which case, the drivers are often hot and rad.

weekend update

The weekends here have been great.

• Exhibit A: Two weekends ago we skied/snow-tramped into an abandoned caboose just outside Skagway Alaska and slept in it. I'll post pictures from that in a bit. Some of us hung out in our Selk Bags/Gumby Suits (articulated sleeping bags), some of us just sipped a lot from the flask.
  
  
• Exhibit B: One weekend ago my sister and I and a pal skied from Fish Lake into Whitehorse over a little pass in the mountains. I discovered that putting hot-shots in your bra helps keep all the important tender bits toasty!
  
  
• Exhibit C: Just this last weekend, after a night of karaoke at the skivey Boiler Room and an unforgettable rendition of "Black Magic Woman"* we drove up to Kluane and skied the Oriole Trail, a little 15-km up and down dealio. Very pretty. I still have to download the photos.**

Here are some from Exhibit B. Going up from Fish Lake:






Skiing through the pass:


Skiing down the other side, heart POUNDING, quads BURNING, nipples FROZEN (it was -20 degrees Celsius)***:



I'm heading back south to my usual location on Wednesday morning. Hello, sunshine! I've had a great time up here but I would like a taste of Vitamin D please!


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* Look, HE'S the singer -- YOU'RE the dancer, the douche-who-takes-his-job-as-karaoke-coordinator-WAY-too-seriously said to my sister, (who was fantastic, for the record).

** Yes, fat camp is ongoing, unrelenting, exhausting.

*** I believe coming down the other side for several kilometers at breathtaking speed in the cold with the spectacular scenery and everything in my body burning with either lactic acid or frostbite, I might have been heard to exclaim "Geez Lou-fucking-WEEZ!!!!" several times through my ice-encrusted balaclava.

morning in the Horse

At 9:52 AM today, my sister and I were driving down Two-Mile Hill into town and there were pinkish-orange sunrise clouds in the sky. It has been light for almost two hours, but dawn itself happens late. Sun still isn't up, but there's that cool golden light making very very long shadows for everything. This is all very normal for the tens of thousands of people who live in the north. For me, after almost five weeks here, it's still a strange phenomenon. It's also the first time in my life that I've been up at the crack of dawn so many days in a row.

hey, these moves are real

So I've finally figured out how to really split wood. I'm short, see? So I can't get the same amount of momentum with the axe that say, my 6'4" quasi-bro-in-law can. So what I do is this little hop, just before I bring it down in an arc. It's a LOT like a WWF move, like the drop with the elbow thing. Whatever that's called.

I wish there was a picture of me going "HAAAAAAIIIIIIIII-YAH!" because I'm pretty sure I look really fierce and like I'd be able to split logs with my laser beam eyes, but this fairly mellow one will have to do:

everyone is welcome at the Whitehorse Canada Games Center!

Last night we went to the pool to do a core strength workout (I just swam laps, about a kilometer) and then went up to the weight room to make our abs scream. All part of Fat Camp.

The workout room looks out over a hockey rink. My sister asked her boyfriend, "Are those guys down there?" and he absent-mindedly answered "No".

"Girls then?"

"No." (He was totally spaced out.)

"Hermaphrodites then?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, suddenly waking up, "it's the hermie hockey league."

"Chicks with dicks with sticks!"

"Right on."