Hell Yeah

Skiing was AMAZING. I couldn't believe how much I liked it. I expected to spend half the day on my ass with little kids jumping over my head, but it wasn't like that at all. The coach from school that organized the trip told me that if I helped him out with the kids I could go for free (result!). After we got to Mt. High I figured out that everything I got (lesson, equipment, lift passes, etc.) was worth almost $80. The only kid that went that I really knew was Ivan, who I recently expelled from my class and moved into the no-nonsense veteran teacher's class. Anyway, he didn't seem to hold a grudge, because he followed me around most of the day and skiied several runs with me and went on the lift with me 5 times. I was a HUGE source of entertainment for him, and he kept screaming my name across the slopes. "Miss FLANSBURG! Over here! Come on!" People looked a little confused that I kept catching up to the little ghetto black kid with poor grammar and coasting onto the lift with him. "Are you two together?" eyebrows-raised-lift-operator inquires. "YES!" I grinned proudly.

Ivan was my own personal cheerleader. On the ride up he told me about how he used to live in a mini-mansion, but things started getting bad when his dad went to jail. He thinks his dad went to jail for speeding. "Every single time my dad went to jail it was for speedin', Miss Flansburg. And then a man stole $3000 from my daddy and we couldn't pay da bills." But his dad taught him to ski and his mom has been making sure he goes on all the school's ski trips, so he's a happy kid.

When we first got there Coach and I had to do a lot of paperwork. All of our kids were underage so we had to sign their equipment out for them. That took almost an hour. Then we lugged all of our stuff up to the slopes and Coach said he would teach me how to ski or I could go join a class. I opted for the class. I would rather be embarassed in front of people I don't see most days of the week. So I went up and joined the beginner class. It was me, a teenage girl, two bad-ass teenage boys, and a group of Japanese tourists. Scott was our ski instructor. So we put a ski on, figured out how to take it off, swapped it onto the other foot, slid around a little. It was a slow beginning. Then we tried to do the wedge deal. I concentrated really hard and had it altogether until I turned at the bottom of the slope and fell over. I wasn't embarassed, though. I figured there was no way to figure it out without toppling over a few times. But then I got up, dusted off, tried to turn around, and toppled over again. The turning around was REALLY hard. So Scott says, "Kate is having a little trouble but she'll sort it out soon. This is a good time to learn how to turn around." So then he showed us the 12,000 step process for turning around when stationary and I didn't fall anymore. As the lesson wore on I started to notice something. Scott kept looking straight at me when he delivered his lecture. Hmm... Maybe that's because I'm one of the few here who speak English. Yeah, that is it. Then I realized that he was saying my name ALL the time. "Excellent, Kate. You got it, Kate. Don't worry about falling on your head, Kate." Um, why didn't he ever say anyone else's name? Two of the Japanese tourists simply could not get it and basically rode the slopes on their asses for the next half hour. He told the rest of us to go up the little moving ramp thing that would deliver us to the top of the bunny slopes and try a couple of runs. I did three while the Japanese ladies were getting hauled around by Scott, and by the time that was over I was super-confident that I could go pretty fast without falling down. I couldn't slow down as quickly as I wanted to, but if I got desperate I knew I could just topple over. Then we all went over to the lift and got in line. I was at the front and Scott skiied up in all his expert-glory and explained to us how to ride the thing. I was intimidated. I felt certain I could ski up to the red line but then I wouldn't be able to stop and I'd fall over and get knocked in the head by the moving chair and, well, you see where my mind was wandering. So Scott is like, "I'll ride first with Kate."

Um, OK. So then we get on without incident and I was soooo relieved. I was holding my poles really stiffly in one hand and clenching the sidebar with the other. We were sooooooo high and the seat was pitched forward like if you didn't grip with your ass cheeks and your hand you would plunge straight down. So Scott reaches over and grabs my hand that is clutching the poles in a death-grip and gently pushes it back toward my body nearly right into my boob and laughs and says, "Relax! Just enjoy the ride" I didn't jerk away or give him a dirty look. I just laughed and started babbling about how fun it is to ski and isn't it a gorgeous day and how many times have people fallen off the lift this year? He was laughing really hard and then he reached over and GRABBED MY THIGH. I was like, did he just touch my leg? What the hell? Then he starts telling me about people who have fallen off the lift and then I am REALLY, REALLY concerned. I'm clinging for dear life. Then he keeps talking and grabbing my thigh and patting my leg every couple of seconds. I just pretended not to notice. Besides, he was kind of sexy. But the whole stereotypical-womanizer profession was a bit of a turn off. Then, just when I thought I could convince myself he was just being a friendly ski instructor, he reaches into his zipped up pocket and pulls out a business card and tells me, "If you ever want to do a one-on-one lesson, give me a call. You'll get a lot farther working alone with me." My mouth gaped. I just took the card and put it in my pocket. I was mildly annoyed because I had to remove my hand from the bar that I was convinced would save my life, but I was flattered nonetheless. After we got to the end of the ride I "unloaded" without incident. This skiing thing seems to be my bag, baby. Then the rest of the group arrived, two by two, and we laughed our asses off watching them try to stand up and glide off, but failing miserably and landing in piles and heaps and trying to crawl out of the way of the next people.

Then we all went down the mountain and I was HAULING ass and didn't fall once! It was awesome. After that, Ivan was my playmate on the slopes and we had a great time. He kept trying to get me to do the jumps but I didn't feel ready by a long shot. Once, I wiped out and he nearly choked to death laughing at me. "Miss Flansburg! When you flipped over I was laughin' so hard that I fell down, too!"

So it's two days later and the only muscles that really hurt are the ones in the back of my arms. Probably from pushing off with the poles. But I have bruises ALL OVER my body. I look like a battered wife. It's crazy. I thought I was going to have mad blisters, but there is barely anything tender about my feet. Hmm. I don't know how I got this inner thigh bruise or the one that looks like a finger mark on my upper arm. Crazy stuff. Oh, and of course I got sunburned. I put on sunscreen but I'm just too white. I burned my nose, forehead, and the worst is my scalp where I part my hair. I wish I had found a hat!

I have a lot to say about Sunday, too, because I hung out in Ventura with Justin. I really like this guy. He is smart, funny, blunt, and HOT. Right before I left he kissed me. He is a great kisser and his body is like a brick wall. I touched his waist when he was kissing me and I seriously gasped and said, "You are so hard!" And then, of course, I wished that I had thought a little before I spoke and he roared with laughter and said, "Not yet!" It's seriously mind-boggling, though. I didn't know a living thing could feel like that. And there wasn't anything between my hand and his skin, so there's no doubt he is fit as hell. I'm gonna ask him what he lifts. It must be some insane amount. After we finished making out I had to smile because the entire bottom half of his face was covered in glitter. I gave him the heads-up. Brandy will have a field day teasing him abou that. It was from my Lancome gloss. Oops.

Umm, what else to tell about date number 2... I met his roommate, Brandy, who is dating his good friend and who took Justin's picture for the online-dating profile. She seems lovely. She smiled and shook my hand and then took off like all good friends should do when it is completely obvious that you're about to make out with a chick in a parking lot. I saw their apartment. It's huge and very close to the beach. The complex has tons of birds-of-paradise flowers so it looks really exotic.

Justin said he wants to come out to Palmdale, so I have to design something for us to do that isn't completely boring. I might just meet him in Santa Clarita. It's halfway and there is more to do there.

What else... We drank margaritas. Oh, I like that. He drinks and I drink and everyone is happy. And we walked along the marina and looked at boats and he told me a lot about them because, duh, he's in the navy so he knows. He wants to go whale watching and maybe camp out. Fun stuff!

Oh, oh! This is the best part. I told him that I shot skeet once and I really liked it and he said that he can get me on base and we can shoot skeet there! So I am mega-excited about that and I hope we go soon.