Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Ingredients en route
a purse.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Google Maps
As second semester seniors, I'd be lying if I said that we all didn't have a lot of time on our hands. Just yesterday Colin and I were discussing taking a couple of days off of school to do a road trip to Alaska. Tobin happened to walk in right when we were talking about it, so it looks like he's coming too. Anybody else down? I even looked up directions on google for it.
Mansuite Blues leads to Salvation
Mansuite has seen some of its darkest days yet. Ski team has torn the very fibers of unity that bind us and turned them into nothing but the memories of spaghetti carbonara shared in days of yore. Rations have been scarce, the freezer has been without frozen fruit for days, the Magic Bullet hasn't whirred into action in a week, midweek beer has not flowed, a good lunchtime sandwich shared with the boys has been all but a dream, we've been forced out of necessity to use Jordo's Cabo themed disgusting Caribbean flavored toothpaste, and worst of all, the Party Duck has turned her ever so cold shoulder as we confined her to 'Party Off' position and failed to let her stretch her wings and point her nose towards the horizon of 'Party Duck PTI: ON' optimism.
When it seemed like nothing could save us from the late February blues, Michael and I heeded the call to duty and trekked to the northen limits to find Mansuite salvation. An absolutely disgusting refusal on the part of the suite to follow the "I can't go to Fairway because..." flowchart had gone too far, and something had to be done.
As such, we walked into the cold winds in search of the very elixir that has provided the nourishment and sustenance that has come to define the figure and shape of the Mansuite man: a full throttle, healthy 8 million calorie per day diet of Fairway culinary magic.
Once again, it was meant to be, and it now is, once again. WE ARE SAVED.
Another colossal Fairway shop afforded us the forgotten luxury of a serious burger.
Behold! The Tom-Jon Canadian Extra Sharp Cheddar Cheeseburger Special with Sauteed Onions, Fried Egg, and Tomato on a Kaiser Role with a side of grilled Green Beans with garlic and special Hawaiian salt. (I also enjoyed a large and savoury fruit smoothie, not pictured) --
Its a good thing...
The grill has roared to life,
our longing hands have weilded knife;
The cupboards once bare,
now full, no room to spare.
The Magic Bullet has whirred,
the Party Duck has stirred;
Mansuite, once sad and distraught,
now content with the food its bought--
Can lift up its arms once more,
grasp again a beer to pour,
And bring to you, our dearest friends,
all that you've counted on us for.
When it seemed like nothing could save us from the late February blues, Michael and I heeded the call to duty and trekked to the northen limits to find Mansuite salvation. An absolutely disgusting refusal on the part of the suite to follow the "I can't go to Fairway because..." flowchart had gone too far, and something had to be done.
As such, we walked into the cold winds in search of the very elixir that has provided the nourishment and sustenance that has come to define the figure and shape of the Mansuite man: a full throttle, healthy 8 million calorie per day diet of Fairway culinary magic.
Once again, it was meant to be, and it now is, once again. WE ARE SAVED.
Behold! The Tom-Jon Canadian Extra Sharp Cheddar Cheeseburger Special with Sauteed Onions, Fried Egg, and Tomato on a Kaiser Role with a side of grilled Green Beans with garlic and special Hawaiian salt. (I also enjoyed a large and savoury fruit smoothie, not pictured) --
Its a good thing...- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The grill has roared to life,
our longing hands have weilded knife;
The cupboards once bare,
now full, no room to spare.
The Magic Bullet has whirred,
the Party Duck has stirred;
Mansuite, once sad and distraught,
now content with the food its bought--
Can lift up its arms once more,
grasp again a beer to pour,
And bring to you, our dearest friends,
all that you've counted on us for.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Famine Day 5
The long hungry days have stretched into their fifth diurnal passing of the sun. We grow lethargic, the internal restlessness manifests itself in the eyes only. The exertion of more is prevented by the dearth of energy within the suite.
How have we let it come to this? A completed Hamdel gold card lays just out of reach by an overturned lamp.
If only I could--
reach--
delivery number--
I can't.
I will dedicate the last of my strength to the endeavor of creating a flowchart to divert blame. Tell the world what happened here. Tell the world my story.
How have we let it come to this? A completed Hamdel gold card lays just out of reach by an overturned lamp.
If only I could--
reach--
delivery number--
I can't.
I will dedicate the last of my strength to the endeavor of creating a flowchart to divert blame. Tell the world what happened here. Tell the world my story.
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could nor laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
And cried, Fairway! Fairway!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Origins
Yesterday, we were linked to on the Bwog, which mentioned a short play about the origins of our blog. It was actually a short screenplay, reproduced here:
INT. MANSUITE COMMON ROOM - DUSK
TOM hovers over the oven while MICHAEL, JORDAN, JON, and WINSTON wait expectantly at the table. Michael is particularly enthusiastic, his napkin tucked into his shirt, his knife and fork aloft, grinning like a puppy at play.
Tom pulls a Pyrex dish out of the oven and turns, revealing it's contents. A bed of roasted potatoes and garlic awash in a piquant broth support two steaming golden birds.
Both Jon and Michael get up. Jon goes to the island and stands next to Tom. They both pick up knives and start to carve the meat. Michael reaches up above the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of red wine, then takes a corkscrew from the drawer. Suddenly, COLIN flies into the room on a scooter.
Colin's scooter wobbles, and he overcorrects, careening into the coffee table. He flips over and his legs fly into the air, launching the scooter toward the kitchen. It hits the island and Tom reacts with lightning quickness, moving to protect the chicken. He grabs the Pyrex and pivots away, knocking into Jon, who throws his arms up in surprise. A knife flies out of his hand towards Michael, who is just now pulling the cork from the bottle. As the knife sails forward, it slams into the cork on the corkscrew as it passes in front of Michael's body, stopping the knife mere inches from his chest. He looks down at the knife, then over to the wine bottle in his hand.
Tom, meanwhile, continues to rotate, and the chicken dish knocks into the wine bottle, which sails through the air spewing liquid. Winston leaps to his feet and dives across the table to grab it, which he does. Some of the wine, however splatters over the island and onto the floor near the scooter.
INT. MANSUITE COMMON ROOM - DUSK
TOM hovers over the oven while MICHAEL, JORDAN, JON, and WINSTON wait expectantly at the table. Michael is particularly enthusiastic, his napkin tucked into his shirt, his knife and fork aloft, grinning like a puppy at play.
Tom pulls a Pyrex dish out of the oven and turns, revealing it's contents. A bed of roasted potatoes and garlic awash in a piquant broth support two steaming golden birds.
TOM
Chicken's done!
JON
It was supposed to be done 20 minutes ago.
The stuffing is getting cold.
TOM
Well, it's ready now. You can't rush these things.
JON
I know, I know. Here, I'll help you cut it.
MICHAEL
I want wine.
Chicken's done!
JON
It was supposed to be done 20 minutes ago.
The stuffing is getting cold.
TOM
Well, it's ready now. You can't rush these things.
JON
I know, I know. Here, I'll help you cut it.
MICHAEL
I want wine.
Both Jon and Michael get up. Jon goes to the island and stands next to Tom. They both pick up knives and start to carve the meat. Michael reaches up above the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of red wine, then takes a corkscrew from the drawer. Suddenly, COLIN flies into the room on a scooter.
COLIN
Dinnertime...wooooaaah!
Dinnertime...wooooaaah!
Colin's scooter wobbles, and he overcorrects, careening into the coffee table. He flips over and his legs fly into the air, launching the scooter toward the kitchen. It hits the island and Tom reacts with lightning quickness, moving to protect the chicken. He grabs the Pyrex and pivots away, knocking into Jon, who throws his arms up in surprise. A knife flies out of his hand towards Michael, who is just now pulling the cork from the bottle. As the knife sails forward, it slams into the cork on the corkscrew as it passes in front of Michael's body, stopping the knife mere inches from his chest. He looks down at the knife, then over to the wine bottle in his hand.
MICHAEL
I guess this stuff is good for your heart.
I guess this stuff is good for your heart.
Tom, meanwhile, continues to rotate, and the chicken dish knocks into the wine bottle, which sails through the air spewing liquid. Winston leaps to his feet and dives across the table to grab it, which he does. Some of the wine, however splatters over the island and onto the floor near the scooter.
WINSTON
Gotcha!
JORDAN
Nice grab, eh!
Colin looks up, his face a mixture of fear and anticipation.Gotcha!
JORDAN
Nice grab, eh!
Just then, Jordan sees the bowl of risotto, which Winston has knocked out of the way, teetering on the edge of the table.
JORDAN & MICHAEL
I got it!
I got it!
They knock into each other. The bowl falls to the floor and the knife/cork/corkscrew in Michael's hand is dislodged. Just as Colin gets back up on the other side of the island, the contraption flies toward him and he ducks down just a moment too late. It glances off his head and arcs upward, hitting the projector, knocking it askew and flipping the power switch. It whirs to life.
There is a moment of stunned silence, then everybody slowly regains composure.
There is a moment of stunned silence, then everybody slowly regains composure.
WINSTON
Is everybody alright?
COLIN
Yeah, yeah.
TOM
Chicken's good.
(beat)
That was close.
JORDAN
That was lucky.
COLIN
It may have been more lucky than we think...
JON
What do you mean?
Is everybody alright?
COLIN
Yeah, yeah.
TOM
Chicken's good.
(beat)
That was close.
JORDAN
That was lucky.
COLIN
It may have been more lucky than we think...
JON
What do you mean?
Colin looks down at the floor.
COLIN
I think it was a sign.
I think it was a sign.
Everybody leans forward to see what he sees. lying on the floor is the fallen scooter, the upturned risotto bowl, and the spilled wine which forms a curious shape. In front of all this, the beam from the projector displays a frozen frame of Gossip Girl on the floor.
MICHAEL
What? That we shouldn't ride scooters
at dinner?
COLIN
(still looking down)
No...look.
What? That we shouldn't ride scooters
at dinner?
COLIN
(still looking down)
No...look.
Michael is confused.
COLIN (cont.)
They're letters! The scooter makes an 'L',
the bowl is an 'O',and the wine looks like
a 'G'!
MICHAEL
Log? That doesn't make sense.
JON
What about the Gossip Girl?
They're letters! The scooter makes an 'L',
the bowl is an 'O',and the wine looks like
a 'G'!
MICHAEL
Log? That doesn't make sense.
JON
What about the Gossip Girl?
They all think for a moment.
TOM
(suddenly)
It's B! On the screen...that's Blair! Her
nickname is B.
MICHAEL
B-Log? I don't get it.
(suddenly)
It's B! On the screen...that's Blair! Her
nickname is B.
MICHAEL
B-Log? I don't get it.
COLIN
Not B-Log. It spells BLOG.
Not B-Log. It spells BLOG.
SMASH TO BLACK
True Lies, signage edition
Dear Columbia Dining,
Thank you for clarifying the phrase "Free Sample," it saves us the trouble of having to steal your bread rolls anyways.
Dear Fairway,
Thank you for supporting the majority of the our agricultural sector and GDP. Your business is appreciated.
Thank you for clarifying the phrase "Free Sample," it saves us the trouble of having to steal your bread rolls anyways.
Dear Fairway,
Thank you for supporting the majority of the our agricultural sector and GDP. Your business is appreciated.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Pasta alla Carbonara
Ciao. Tonight's menu @ Mansuite: Pasta alla Carbonara, with a special twist.
Buono buono.
Buono buono.It's come to this
In the famous words of Tom, "WE HAVE NO FOOD!"
Alas, my ham and cheese sandwich today is not as satisfying as usual.
We must go to fairway boys- before we starve!
Alas, my ham and cheese sandwich today is not as satisfying as usual.
We must go to fairway boys- before we starve!
Mansuite: A multi-part virtual guide
Today’s segment: The Opium Den
Suite tours are available by appointment Mon – Thurs 11am-6pm
Opium Den tours are available by surprise Fri 2:46am-4:11am and Sat 3:24am-5:05am
It was the end of summer. Spots of clouds drifted by sluggishly, languishing in the last breaths of warmth and in defiance of the coming Autumn. Two weeks before the official start of school, we arrived on campus rejuvenated by the summer and ready to tackle the last best year of our lives—the climactic point from which life is a downhill slide to wives, denture glue and death.
Upon entering our suite for the first time, we scampered like kids on Christmas morning to our respective rooms to fantasize over the infinite decorating possibilities and to ceremoniously unplug our ROLM phones. ROLMs in hand, we converged in the hallway to seek out the deepest, darkest recess to which we could banish the phones and the evil autodialing alumni-relations spirits within.
As if by coincidence, we had gathered directly outside one particular door that nobody had noticed before.
Seemingly drawn by some mysterious force within, Colin approached the portal and swung it open; light spilled from the hallway seemed to be absorbed by the infinite expanse that lay within.
“Dibs!” Shouted Jon. Nobody else had the courage to contest him.
We donned our headlamps—yes, we all own headlamps—and took our first tentative steps inside. A first look at the floor suggested that either Jackson Pollack began his career here or something far more sinister had taken place.
Predating Pollack’s work by at least several years, Neolithic cave markings were scrawled across one side of the room. Deciphering these ancient characters has so far proved impossible.
And at the farthest expanse of the room we stumbled upon treasure we could not have possibly fathomed:
“What are these strange devices?” remarked Colin at the front of the expedition.
“They appear to be goggles, or some other form of protective eye covering,” answered Winston authoritatively.
“It looks like they were designed to carry things, like a bocce ball set maybe,” puzzled Tom.
“That’s nonsense. This room definitely must have been a cell of some sort and these were used to restrain people. See? They lock-- nobody would be able to undo this type of sophisticated latching mechanism,” interjected Jordan.
Everybody mumbled in agreement with this theory as we all individually concluded that we must be standing on the site of a defunct holding cell for delinquent artists. It would also do perfectly as a converted burial ground for our possessed ROLM phones. Utilizing the restraining devices to lock the earpieces to the keypads, we placed the phones in the end of the tunnel at the far end of the room.
Luckily I recalled the ancient mantra to ensure the autodialing spirits would stay entombed forever:
“Seek two bed frames, a mattress, four pairs of skis, a bicycle pump, a mini-fridge and as much cardboard as you can find. Mash them into the chamber as haphazardly as possible. Only then will the curse of the ancient relics remain at bay.”
Suffice to say, we followed these instructions to a tee.
Suite tours are available by appointment Mon – Thurs 11am-6pm
Opium Den tours are available by surprise Fri 2:46am-4:11am and Sat 3:24am-5:05am
It was the end of summer. Spots of clouds drifted by sluggishly, languishing in the last breaths of warmth and in defiance of the coming Autumn. Two weeks before the official start of school, we arrived on campus rejuvenated by the summer and ready to tackle the last best year of our lives—the climactic point from which life is a downhill slide to wives, denture glue and death.
Upon entering our suite for the first time, we scampered like kids on Christmas morning to our respective rooms to fantasize over the infinite decorating possibilities and to ceremoniously unplug our ROLM phones. ROLMs in hand, we converged in the hallway to seek out the deepest, darkest recess to which we could banish the phones and the evil autodialing alumni-relations spirits within.
As if by coincidence, we had gathered directly outside one particular door that nobody had noticed before.
Seemingly drawn by some mysterious force within, Colin approached the portal and swung it open; light spilled from the hallway seemed to be absorbed by the infinite expanse that lay within.
“Dibs!” Shouted Jon. Nobody else had the courage to contest him.
We donned our headlamps—yes, we all own headlamps—and took our first tentative steps inside. A first look at the floor suggested that either Jackson Pollack began his career here or something far more sinister had taken place.
Predating Pollack’s work by at least several years, Neolithic cave markings were scrawled across one side of the room. Deciphering these ancient characters has so far proved impossible.
And at the farthest expanse of the room we stumbled upon treasure we could not have possibly fathomed:
“What are these strange devices?” remarked Colin at the front of the expedition.
“They appear to be goggles, or some other form of protective eye covering,” answered Winston authoritatively.
“It looks like they were designed to carry things, like a bocce ball set maybe,” puzzled Tom.
“That’s nonsense. This room definitely must have been a cell of some sort and these were used to restrain people. See? They lock-- nobody would be able to undo this type of sophisticated latching mechanism,” interjected Jordan.
Everybody mumbled in agreement with this theory as we all individually concluded that we must be standing on the site of a defunct holding cell for delinquent artists. It would also do perfectly as a converted burial ground for our possessed ROLM phones. Utilizing the restraining devices to lock the earpieces to the keypads, we placed the phones in the end of the tunnel at the far end of the room.
Luckily I recalled the ancient mantra to ensure the autodialing spirits would stay entombed forever:
“Seek two bed frames, a mattress, four pairs of skis, a bicycle pump, a mini-fridge and as much cardboard as you can find. Mash them into the chamber as haphazardly as possible. Only then will the curse of the ancient relics remain at bay.”
Suffice to say, we followed these instructions to a tee.
Take Your Daughters to Sugarloaf / Shredfest
This past weekend, Mansuite was able to send only two representatives up north to Sugarloaf for the first Ski Team overnighter. Despite the disadvantage of playing four men down, Michael and I were able to start a family and a new life in Maine. It only took us a couple of minutes to produce four daughters. See below.
Dad, Dad, and the kids.
With our new household sturdily in place, all of society's nuclear family demands fell immediately to the wayside and we were able to charge the mountain with an air of confidence that only comes with the comfort of knowing you have a family waiting for you back at your rental condo. The result: action shots ---
Carve
Shred
Addendum: Partial list of beards honored in during the beard game on the bus home--
The beards of...
Tom Selleck,
The Pringles Guy
Robert E. Lee
Odysseus
Captain Hook
Jordan Keenan
ZZ Top
Confucious
Dad, Dad, and the kids.With our new household sturdily in place, all of society's nuclear family demands fell immediately to the wayside and we were able to charge the mountain with an air of confidence that only comes with the comfort of knowing you have a family waiting for you back at your rental condo. The result: action shots ---
Carve
ShredAddendum: Partial list of beards honored in during the beard game on the bus home--
The beards of...
Tom Selleck,
The Pringles Guy
Robert E. Lee
Odysseus
Captain Hook
Jordan Keenan
ZZ Top
Confucious
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Long distance relationships - Part 2
I was also absent this weekend, on an excursion to Harvard. Officially, I was traveling with Fruit Paunch to attend an improv festival, but secretly I wanted to see how Harvard housing matched up to the Mansuite!
Luckily, I got a chance to stay at the legendary* Mather House. What a wonderful opportunity for comparison!!
The first thing I noticed upon entering the lounge were the colorful banners adorning the walls. They gave the room an exotic flair, and I reckon if you're not going to paint your suite, this is a pretty good way to go. It did make me wonder, with all the walls covered, where they projected their movies, but my curiosity didn't last long. Spotting a small television on one side of the room, it dawned on me slowly and painfully that this room had no projector!!!
Well that was quite a blow, and I had to sit down to collect myself. Good fortune! The couch was firm but comfortable (and unlike our own sadly short sofas, capable of fitting a fully recumbent man), and in its warm embrace I begin to look more favorably on the lounge that would be my one-night roost.
Sure it was small, but it was a junior residence, after all. And it seemed the inhabitants were crimson mavericks: a safety inspection report taped to the door indicated that the Mather men had audaciously blocked a fire exit!
Their reputation was upheld that evening when they hosted an unregistered party for us (how they knew it was party time without a PartyDuck Party Time Indicator I'll never understand). Though low-key, the party was highly fun, and when we finally called it a night (around 4 to 2—we were pretty tired) we all slept soundly.
I enjoyed Mather, but it was nice to return home. Many thanks to our hosts; I encourage you all to come visit the Mansuite before the semester is out!
*In the 1986 film "The Legend of Mather House," a band of cocksass Harvard freshman, unwilling to wait four years to join a finals club and get laid, decide to turn their dorm into a love den in the hopes of scoring more immediate gratification. "Players can't be choosers," was the tagline, and the plot, though haphazard, was riddled with hijinx and hickeys. Perhaps most notably, it featured several cameos. Tom Cruise, Sigourney Weaver, and Ron Howard all appeared in the film, and a young Renee Zellweger was even decapitated!
Luckily, I got a chance to stay at the legendary* Mather House. What a wonderful opportunity for comparison!!
The first thing I noticed upon entering the lounge were the colorful banners adorning the walls. They gave the room an exotic flair, and I reckon if you're not going to paint your suite, this is a pretty good way to go. It did make me wonder, with all the walls covered, where they projected their movies, but my curiosity didn't last long. Spotting a small television on one side of the room, it dawned on me slowly and painfully that this room had no projector!!!
Well that was quite a blow, and I had to sit down to collect myself. Good fortune! The couch was firm but comfortable (and unlike our own sadly short sofas, capable of fitting a fully recumbent man), and in its warm embrace I begin to look more favorably on the lounge that would be my one-night roost.
Sure it was small, but it was a junior residence, after all. And it seemed the inhabitants were crimson mavericks: a safety inspection report taped to the door indicated that the Mather men had audaciously blocked a fire exit!
Their reputation was upheld that evening when they hosted an unregistered party for us (how they knew it was party time without a PartyDuck Party Time Indicator I'll never understand). Though low-key, the party was highly fun, and when we finally called it a night (around 4 to 2—we were pretty tired) we all slept soundly.
I enjoyed Mather, but it was nice to return home. Many thanks to our hosts; I encourage you all to come visit the Mansuite before the semester is out!
*In the 1986 film "The Legend of Mather House," a band of cocksass Harvard freshman, unwilling to wait four years to join a finals club and get laid, decide to turn their dorm into a love den in the hopes of scoring more immediate gratification. "Players can't be choosers," was the tagline, and the plot, though haphazard, was riddled with hijinx and hickeys. Perhaps most notably, it featured several cameos. Tom Cruise, Sigourney Weaver, and Ron Howard all appeared in the film, and a young Renee Zellweger was even decapitated!
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Long distance relationships
I hope you are enjoying New York! Maine is nice, Tom and I have
started a family together. I hope this doesn't complicate our
relationship at all.
I had an idea: after the matching robes, can we get team ski
jumpsuits? I liked this one in the lifeliftline today; note the guy
getting whapped in the crotch:
Friday, February 20, 2009
Brought to You by Red Bull
Mansuite appears to be unofficially sponsored by that bubbilicious caffeinated beverage that gives you wings.
And with that much Taurine per square foot in one common room...
plus A-Funk Hawkins and his notorious carousing cronies from Hamilton...
a private dance party was clearly in the works.
A private strobe light dance party...
hyperspeed.
And with that much Taurine per square foot in one common room...
plus A-Funk Hawkins and his notorious carousing cronies from Hamilton...
a private dance party was clearly in the works.
A private strobe light dance party...
hyperspeed.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Shower survey
A loofah, fine. Pumice stones and designer shampoos I can deal with.
But, seriously guys?
But, seriously guys?
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
I have no pants
Ever since last saturday I've been unable to find my regular jeans. Combine that with the fact that I SPLIT my 2nd pair of jeans while dancing, I no longer own any jeans. So if you have my pants, please return them.
Kitchen is Kleen!
I've been really really sick, but now I feel better. As a test of my returning strength and an exhibition of my unyielding commitment to the upkeep of this living space, I have vanquished dirty dishes, buffed tarnished pots, scoured the countertops for crumbs and tap danced a thin sprinkling of manlove about the common area.
The suite is clean.
The suite is clean.
Idolization of the Masculine Form
Much like a maximum security prison, Mansuite is a place where testosterone runs rampant and letting one's guard down, even for a moment, will ensure relegation to the depths of the complex social hierarchy within the suite. And life as prey is short and unrewarding...
Caught up in the idolization of the masculine form, Michael celebrates his virility in a maneuver known within Mansuite as "docking." Recognizing his slim chances of successful escape, Colin immediately acquiesces.
Caught up in the idolization of the masculine form, Michael celebrates his virility in a maneuver known within Mansuite as "docking." Recognizing his slim chances of successful escape, Colin immediately acquiesces.
Remembering Fall Excursions Part II
Election Day Weekend (our fall break) Michael, Winston, Jason, Ekaterina, Genevieve, and I ventured into the woods. It was very cold, very snowy, and very fun. Not pictured are: old man Dink, broken Snow-stacked action-packed snack-attack YakTrax traction straps, Cheesy hot chocolate, and the abandoned mining town where we spent Halloween.
Mandatory super cute summit shot
Arriving at the summit
Gorp attack
Winston is missing
Frozen Socks!
Beautiful campsite
All together now
Freaked out in the ghost town, Halloween night
Mandatory super cute summit shot
Arriving at the summit
Gorp attack
Winston is missing
Frozen Socks!
Beautiful campsite
All together now
Freaked out in the ghost town, Halloween night
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