Jmac and cheese

guilty measure

i just read shafe's blog and it made me feel bad about myself (and my blacked out name), so prepare to read a guilt-inspired blog. don't fret too much, fun things have been going on here.

last weekend bess came to visit. i think we were both kinda nearvous about this, but everything (at least in my book) was jelly. We experienced a lame version of the night life on thursday, then on friday, after i had my classes (bad planning, she watched 4 hours of opera class) we went camping (boo ya ka sha!). i have wanted to mountain camp since i got to denver, and this was my desire realized. bess, me, and as many other people we could fit uncomfortably in a car came along for the ride.

mountains = cold as balls. holy shit. even with fire, and even with the hands in the crotchel section technique, we were frozen solid.

^this is us having fun

^this is DU! written in urink in the snow

as we were leaving the next morning, some deer decided they wanted us to see them. one (Roy) let me take a picture of him.

thanks Roy.

in other news, ive decided that i enjoy chicken more than i previously assumed i did. my mother would make it far too often at home and i never wanted to eat it elsewhere due to the frequency with which i ate it, but since i am sans a chicken making mother at the moment, my tastebuds thank me when i consume the delicious bird.

now that my english paper seems writable and that my name is a bright hue of red, i bid you adue.

they say hes got an altitude problem

This last weekend could easily be classified as schway city. The Lamont Chorale had a retreat to La Veta/Cuchara to practice for a weekend and sing at a church on Sunday. The barriers of awkward between the new kids and the old were broken down with a force previously demonstrated only by Andre the Giant in The Princess Bride. As Cuchara was donned "The Cuch (pronounced COO-CH)" and as our director prefers to be called Dick, many immature sexual jokes were made going in and out of the cuch (tee hee). Saturday was Oktoberfest, meaning that all students of legal age could drink themselves silly while the rest of us could eat polish sausage and find something else to do. Me and a couple other underagers ventured up in the mountains past the location of our lodge. Here are some cou pictures taken from the peaks north of the cuch (tee hee).

I like Colorado.

In math, it can be equated that Oktoberfest + a birthday + Night Practice = Bad news. Literally everybody who had the opportunity got messed up (including mega-Christian-read-the-bible-at-night-instead-of-going-out-and-having-fun people!) The most hillarious practice followed the birthday bonanza of booze. The downside to this was a verbal beat down from Dick. In the midst of drunken awful practice, we still did a pretty good job the next morning.

I put this up in my dorm the first week of school. Still goin strong.