lack of communication makes for a "shitty" situation

On new year's day FH and I headed home from Steamboat, but first we stopped for breakfast at Nora's, and FH had three cups of coffee. As we were traveling down highway 40, a desolate stretch of road, FH had to poop. There was no place to stop though, so he suffered along until Kremmling. I was suffering too because he was farting up a storm.

We got to Kremmling and then decided to continue on to Frisco because FH was hoping for a nice Starbucks bathroom. But there wasn't a starbucks directly off the highway so we ended up finally stopping at Georgetown. Luckily it was warm outside and I was able to crack the car window, otherwise I might have died from the farts. Regarding that gas station just off I-70, I personally wouldn't go into the men's room for at least another month (assuming it doesn't get razed to the ground in the mean time because the stench won't go away).

FH got back into the car and I turned on the heat to warm up my feet. I smelled farts again so I was like "why are you still farting???" and FH was like "I'm NOT farting!" I thought maybe his clothes had been fart infused so as soon as we got home he changed his clothes and then we headed to an irish bar for a new year's drink (the idea being to hit the bars before everyone else showed up so we wouldn't have to deal with a crowd).

I was sitting on a bar stool when suddenly FH said "I smell the farts again and it's coming from you!" I was like "dude, I am NOT farting". We puzzled over the situation, wondering if somehow my clothes also had gotten fart infused (I didn't change because I didn't have any other clothes to wear). I also worried that maybe our sense of smell had been destroyed after over an hour trapped in a car filled with noxious gas.

Then FH said "let me see your shoe". Turns out, I had dog poop on my shoe and that's what the smell was. He said "you must have stepped on that dog turd behind the car when we were packing at the motel". I was like "what dog turd?" FH had noticed it the day before but didn't tell me. I didn't see it when we were packing the car up because it had snowed.

We both started laughing like 5 year olds. I eventually got the poop off my shoe. And FH said from now on he will tell me if a dog poops behind my car.

happy new year!

rabbit ears

Staying at the Rabbit Ears motel up in Steamboat. It's kind of like a noisy, shitty hotel combined with weird satanic neon and a logo that would not be out of place at a strip joint.

if bugs bunny did acid

But it's centrally located, and I like to walk, so I shouldn't complain.

FH did a back country ski but I wasn't allowed to because of my blisters (will spare you the pic of the blister on my left ankle, which isn't as big as the one on my right ankle, but still gross). Then we went to find a pair of shoes I could wear that don't have a back on them because I was getting tired of walking around town in my slippers.

one more person ask if I'm wearing slippers....yes I am FUCKING WEARING SLIPPERS

Embarrassingly, I bought two new pairs of shoes. But one pair was on sale.

ugg slippers that are meant to be worn outside - perfect for post skiing, climbing, etc.

I will be so happy if I wake up a few days from now and my blisters don't look like red dwarfs.

saddles and saddle sore

Yesterday I made a mistake. Well, two mistakes. The first involves a hike. My right ankle was so swollen from my now somehow infected blister (even though I put nu skin on it) I couldn't ski. So I decided to hike a trail at Cache Creek while FH and his sister skied it. The last 2 miles, heading towards the car, I was feeling pretty good (well, it was fucking cold outside and to be honest I couldn't feel my feet since I was hiking in my summer trail shoes - bad packing on my part - I didn't expect to be walking anywhere, only skiing) so I decided to run back to the car. Which was awesome until I got to the car and realized, as my feet were heating up, that my right shoe was full of a bunch of soupy shit from the blister.

At which point I probably should have told FH that I didn't think I could skate. But I wanted to practice more hockey stuff...so...I went skating.

By evening I could barely walk. So we went to the million dollar cowboy bar for some pain killer. FH insisted I sit on one of the saddle seats. For the record, I only sat side saddle.

drinking million dollar cowboy beer on a saddle - for real

By the end of the evening I was in excruciating pain (from a blister - give me a fucking break). Didn't get much sleep last night.

who's the dumb ass who decided running 2 miles in the snow on a blister was a good idea...um, me

Just got a text from my dad (sent him the above picture asking for advice). He said "just saw the pic (of my blister) - definitely gross!!!" Hahaha! Blood usually makes him throw up.

Had a painful ride from Jackson to Steamboat, where I was supposed to do a back country ski tomorrow (we'll see what the heal looks like tomorrow). FH found the tv remote funny (we were watching the broncos game - blood bath).

Fisher Price - my first TV remote