The other sadly ironic thing that happened on the ski trip was that while I was sick at Greg's place Friday and missing Day 1 of skiiing, his dog ate my cell phone. Apparently I made the rookie mistake of leaving my phone on the floor or low, reachable shelf overnight, which was all the excuse Greg's young pitbull-terrier needed to drag it into the yard and chew it to pieces. My search for it eventually led to the back yard where I found the dog sitting guiltily in the nest he'd made out of it.
What was further ironic is that I had especially purchased this phone to be indestructable. I have a tendency to break phones (this is the third one this year), be it from dropping them or from falling on them as I ride Scoot-Skates down large hills, so last time I went into Cingular holding my 5-piece phone set in my hand, I bought the model described by the sales guy as "the most invincible phone ever". Apparently you could drop it off a roof and it would be OK. But apparently you can't feed it to baby pitbull.
At least I broke the old record of how many pieces I can break a phone into - the new record is 10. At least I got a new phone, which Greg promises to pay for as soon as his dog stops eating people's stuff and he has the money; although at Pita Pit afterwards he promptly borrowed my new phone and dropped it onto the tile floor (it survived). And it least I got to leave an outgoing voicemail greeting along the lines of "Hey, this is Paul, and you've reached the small intestine of a small dog, where my cell phone now resides. Leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I get a new one. Oh, and leave your number, lest I have to wait for the dog to pass my SIM card and then go through the yard with a pair of rubber gloves."
What a great ski trip.
This was at a gas station me and Treem passed on the way to Colorado. If you're the one-millionth customer, you get 5 minutes alone in the Beer Cave.