I think i have forgotten a lot of very funny things over the years, may or may not be in part due to alcohol use / abuse. I would like to hear about your best / funniest atlantic canadian ski related story. Extra points awarded to stories which, in some way, incorporate john and his gerbil farm.
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Best Ski Story
- Thread starter davixxx
- Start date
stilloffthewall
Member
this is one thing Im not getting dragged into, this is going to get damn messy.
The first thing wrong with the trucking industry in NS is that they think a transport truck is called a 'transfer truck'...that's the first problem...
person 1 : 'I can hit the parliment building with a rock from my house'
person 2 : 'Well I can hit it from my roof with a double A battery'
person 1 : 'I can hit the parliment building with a rock from my house'
person 2 : 'Well I can hit it from my roof with a double A battery'
the episode
one time i thought i was a good skier and was going into a slope comp. maybe i can win a sticker and cool dude tshirt i thought to my self. then it happened.......i got thirsty. well let me tell you all a short story about gettin thirsty in a special place like wentworth...the milk is usually sour from all the overweight women too lazy to close the door..the fountian pop is last years melted artificial snow..and the power-ade is the stuff that makes the olympic atheleletes get DQed.
WELL YA ALL KNOW WHAT THAT LEAVES..
sweet nectar from upstairs...and im not shalkin up a story about the young broad with a wide diameter ass and funny teeth, either.
were talkin smooth shoots of rum and pitchers of beer at 10 am sharp..just as the crisp layer of frost is broke with the yelling of 4 jack ass trying to ski like a bunch of banshies after more liquer you would see at a phrat house...12 hrs later hit and your at chateau Englay...for a few more 'smooth ones' next thing you know your seeing first hand how a septic tank in great village works. oh what set up!! god i love that dog..you know the one duncs..
then it struck...the SUN. the devil you would think..but no, the sun and more frost. this time things feel different though..the bodie isnt functioning so you get all hope up on rockets... then your memory slowly fads back...not the thing you wanted back..
next
a strapping young racer with his short shorts approach (and sweet little tights), yelling some jibberish that makes you feel hazy again....
he brings the previous night back to life.
' I went to my room cold after seeing two fat girls hit on me.' he says, then 'i went in and there was nothing..not a sheet, not a picture on the wall..not even f___ing toliot paper..'
well if that wasn't some story i thought to myself..then it hit..
REALITY SUCKS
the rockets had be bouncin like a pigeon going after a fallin sausage on a saturday night sex romp.
ya i think something like that..
well this is when things fet tight----
oh beer just showed..see ya in chapter two
one time i thought i was a good skier and was going into a slope comp. maybe i can win a sticker and cool dude tshirt i thought to my self. then it happened.......i got thirsty. well let me tell you all a short story about gettin thirsty in a special place like wentworth...the milk is usually sour from all the overweight women too lazy to close the door..the fountian pop is last years melted artificial snow..and the power-ade is the stuff that makes the olympic atheleletes get DQed.
WELL YA ALL KNOW WHAT THAT LEAVES..
sweet nectar from upstairs...and im not shalkin up a story about the young broad with a wide diameter ass and funny teeth, either.
were talkin smooth shoots of rum and pitchers of beer at 10 am sharp..just as the crisp layer of frost is broke with the yelling of 4 jack ass trying to ski like a bunch of banshies after more liquer you would see at a phrat house...12 hrs later hit and your at chateau Englay...for a few more 'smooth ones' next thing you know your seeing first hand how a septic tank in great village works. oh what set up!! god i love that dog..you know the one duncs..
then it struck...the SUN. the devil you would think..but no, the sun and more frost. this time things feel different though..the bodie isnt functioning so you get all hope up on rockets... then your memory slowly fads back...not the thing you wanted back..
next
a strapping young racer with his short shorts approach (and sweet little tights), yelling some jibberish that makes you feel hazy again....
he brings the previous night back to life.
' I went to my room cold after seeing two fat girls hit on me.' he says, then 'i went in and there was nothing..not a sheet, not a picture on the wall..not even f___ing toliot paper..'
well if that wasn't some story i thought to myself..then it hit..
REALITY SUCKS
the rockets had be bouncin like a pigeon going after a fallin sausage on a saturday night sex romp.
ya i think something like that..
well this is when things fet tight----
oh beer just showed..see ya in chapter two
jeff, your the king. little update: that kick ass dog was shot by the friendly nebourghhood dog catcher last year. fucking pricks... let me tell you a short story about dog catchers....
i'll tell you a short story about a trip to poley too. another comp., and as in jeff's story, the beer was flowing like monsoon season, i could hardly piss fast enough to keep up. long story short, drunkenness insued, snowboarders were barred from their own podium, ECFSA cleaned up. duncan jibs a lunch tray through subway, jeff gets a tour of the kitchen. mis-read signs lead us 1/2 way to st.john, erin was succesfully decieved into thinking that no alcohol would be consumed in the moving car. the end. ps. jeff is king.
i'll tell you a short story about a trip to poley too. another comp., and as in jeff's story, the beer was flowing like monsoon season, i could hardly piss fast enough to keep up. long story short, drunkenness insued, snowboarders were barred from their own podium, ECFSA cleaned up. duncan jibs a lunch tray through subway, jeff gets a tour of the kitchen. mis-read signs lead us 1/2 way to st.john, erin was succesfully decieved into thinking that no alcohol would be consumed in the moving car. the end. ps. jeff is king.