How Not To Pick Up A Snowbunny

**Editors' Note: This guest post came in today from a Marine who prefers to remain nameless. We don't blame him.**

Years ago I was a marine stationed in Southern California. We did lots of things in our time off, most of them centered on finding girls and then trying to fuck them. Sexist and rude yes, but we were marines after all.

One weekend some buddies and I planned a snowboarding trip to a nearby ski resort. True to form, the intent was not really to snowboard (none of us were all that good anyway) but to lure sexy snowbunnies back to our cheap hotel room and yes, try to fuck them.

At any rate, we got up to the resort, rented our gear and donned our makeshift ski wear. My buddies wore U.S. issued fatigues and laughed at me as I stepped into my insulated one-piece Carhartt suit. Franky, I thought it had a certain honest, everyman appeal. The morning progressed and sure enough, we did locate and team up with a crew of attractive gals. We shared lift rides, chatted a bit as we cruised easy runs, and overall, things were looking good for our ultimate intentions.

At some point mid-day I ducked into the trees at the side of a run to answer natures call, i.e. take a big shit. I felt a bit rushed as I saw my buddies disappearing down the hill with the girls and knew that they had absolutely no reservations about ditching me for the rest of the day in the hopes of improving the odds with the ladies. I finished up, stepped back into my board and bombed the hill, getting to the gondola line just in time to cut my way up to our party as they crammed their way into the crowed gondola car.

The door shut and up we went. The first thing I noticed was that I was located directly under the heat vent and hot air was blasting me. The second thing was the distinct smell of human shit. Very soon it became evident that other people noticed it too.

Comments began circulating: Dude! Smell that shit? Bro! Who Shit themselves?! Clearly, I was the culprit. I checked my boots - all clear. My gloves - all clear. Snowboard - clear. Pants cuffs - clear. A glimmer of hope emerged. Maybe I wasn't the offender.

The ladies were obviously grossed out and embarrassed by the whole thing and by this point the warm air and intense reek had them breathing into their elbows. I knew we just had to get to the top and get out of this damn gondola into some fresh mountain air where I could do a more thorough check of my gear. Ah! the lift shack at the top of the line was in sight, just a few moments more and I was home free!

Suddenly, from just over my shoulder, my buddy, my buddy, the fucker that was supposed to look out for me, put his life on the line for me in battle, yells, no bellows at the top of his lungs -Dude! Dude! YOU SHIT IN YOUR HOOD!!!! HE SHIT IN HIS HOOD!!! and proceeds to begin laughing his ass off. He is very quickly joined by most of the other people in the gondola. Except of course, the snowbunnies.

The look on their faces was textbook disgust and embarrassment. A few moments later, the gondola docks, the doors open and the crowd stampedes out amidst laughter and nasty comments about the hygiene of the US marine corp. My friends are literally rolling on the ground, not even observing, or caring about for that matter, the rapid disappearance of our quarry. I admit, at this point I found the humor in the whole situation as well and joined in with belly laughs of my own. We spent the rest of the day reliving the gondola ride and pounding beers in the lodge, of course, only after I had ditched my trusty Carhartt suit.