Being so unphased with post-count as I am, I completely have been a let down this month as far as my blog is concerned. While getting back into the groove of school is no excuse (I infact have 2-blogs started, only to meet writer's block mid-way on each) I have been busy refurbishing the new room, blowing money on books, and suffering through my horrible language class.

Tonight, or perhaps, this morning - as I am now noticing it is 2:30am- I come to you with a rather... different post.

While I am aware that each person celebrates their own winter holiday, I myself do the Christmas thing. Looking back, I remember the inability to fall asleep. As you blink at the clock, you know that the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner the next day will be there.

I am currently in that state.

Tomorrow, I will be departing to one of my favorite destinations, Montreal. Until Sunday, I will be brushing arms with fellow riders at the 2nd year of the highly anticipated, International Freeskiing Film Festival. Stoked out of my mind, I look back and remember last year's festival. Although it was, without a doubt, one of the best ski events I have ever attended, I am eager to see how this year's will size up. As the clock continues to slowly click, and my room-mate soundly sleeps, I find myself thinking of The Night Before Christmas. Admitting to being extremely exhausted, and by no means in a good state to be making posts to an international audience, I present to you my hastily-written-horrible-rhyme-scheme-of-a-poem entitled:

'Twas the Night Before IF3

'Twas the night before IF3

and all through the East,

not a creature was stirring.

Not even the Yeti beast.

All the bags were packed into the cars with care,

in hopes that Montreal would soon be theirs.

The skiers were nestled all snug in their beds,

wondering why Cali P was sent home instead.

I packed the aspirin and Coll packed the water,

knowing that our livers were soon to be slaughtered.

Soon on my phone there was a small buzzing clatter,

and I rolled over quickly to a date on the calendar.

Up out of my bed, I flew like a flash,

put on my new Nikes and grabbed my indie sash,

to the thought of once again seeing some snow,

we went to our classes and were soon good to go.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear?

but "BIENVENUE AU CANADA" in letters so clear!

With my excited NS driver, so lively and quick,

we rushed to the 1080, to hail Sir Mike Nick!

Faster than snowboarders like Danny Kass,

we were excited to party with class!

With Tanner and Doug and the rest of the Office,

plus Anthony, Cedric, and Ahmet among us!

From the top of the balcony, to the far back wall,

one newschooler, two newschoolers, look at us all!

As the theatre darkens and the skiers begin to fly,

you see all the heads cranked up to the sky.

So up to high heights, all the riders they flew,

the best being red bull's Dumont, Fuck Mt Dew!

With heavy eyes, they begin to retire,

back to their rooms, though without Lyrical Faya.

The stoked level is high, with more to come,

as they dream of winter, forget sugarplums!

Dressed all in white from his head to his foot,

was the man of the hour, to the stage he did put...

...a bunch of shwag he had flung from his back,

and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes- how they reddened! His speech, how slurred!

as Mr. Bishop began to utter some words.

He looked at the crowd as they perked up with delight,

as beanies and stickers, became things of flight.

Once the lights again dimmed, and eventually rose,

The riders were amped, from their heads to their toes.

On their faces, broad smiles, their eyes full of joy,

As they knew the snow would soon deploy.

No sooner had it ended did we go back to the clubs,

To award the riders for showing their stuff.

We chanted and hollered as the Moment planks appeared,

Hoping our faves would win Movie of the Year.

And after the words, the DJ went to work,

Music filled heads and bodies did jerk.

I looked down the bar and what did I see,

But the writing boys, Schmuck and Rogge.

As the drinks were spilled, they chanted ‘shoe’

And immediately everyone knew what to do.

In the wee hours, as Montreal was blurred from my sight,

Yet I heard them exclaim, “SORRY FOR PARTYING!!!!” as we walked into the night.