Yeah, Groovy.

So I decided that along with saving loads of cash, coming to this lodge would be a good chance for me to work on my health. You know, a kind of escape, a place where I don't want to party 5 nights of the week. Like a rehab center! Except you get paid to be here. And you don't actually need rehabilitation. But let me tell you friends, waking up WITHOUT a hangover 3 days in a row feels great.

But I guess I am on my own when it comes to sobriety because all the rest of the people working here seem to have come prepared with very large weed and booze stashes. Between the six of them they have enough beer to send a small African village on a month long bender and there is so much wine in the little staff room they would surely put old Jesus and that last dinner party of his to a shame! Cool, right! Also I'm pretty sure Sarah Landers has a tiny bottomless bag of Palm Bay Coolers. She's like Mary Poppins endlessly pulling them out of her magic little blue purse. She's offering me one right now. No thanks Sarah.

I knew I wouldn't want to be stranded here with absolutely nothing so I brought one pack of Strongbows. 4 Strongbows + three weeks = clean liver.

At nights after work while the others hang out on the porch and drink and smoke and get stoned and laugh and talk about whatever and have an okay time I retire to my room with a cup of hot chocolate, a handful of candies, a book or a movie and settle in for a fantastic time.

However last night I decided maybe I should at least attempt to be social. All this sleeping was making me feel boring. Oh how I longed to know what it felt like to be hungover again!!!

There's a place over yonder called Kinbasket Lake. Do not be fooled by the name. This is not a real lake. Kinbasket Lake is less of a lake and more of a huge dry desert crater in the middle of the B.C. rockies. This lake is dam controlled by the Mica Dam and apparently it's closed or something because the lake is totally drained. There is a trough of water running through it and some muddy patches in certain places but it's more or less just a huge desert. It's so weird. I want to explain it better but I can't. It's like being on Mars or Mercury or shit I don't know! You know the scene in Star Trek where that evil villain dude is drilling a black hole into whatever that planet was called? And it's all dry and desolate and abandoned? That's Kinbasket Lake!

So after work a few co-workers, Dan, Gerran and Sarah Landers, decided they were going to go to Kinbasket Lake to smoke a joint and drink some wine. Much to their surprise I hopped in Dans truck with my last remaining Strongbow.

Long stupid story short, we got down there, got really stoned, and cracked a couple bottles of wine (they share with me). It was nice, just sitting around in the quiet, having chats and enjoying the strange scenery.

Suddenly Dan decides we need music. He has satellite radio in his truck! We can listen to anything we want! Anything at all!

He chooses the techno station. (It was preset in his top ten?)

All of a sudden I was at a desert rave with three strangers. I was so stoned. It was so weird. I might as well have been fucked up on ecstasy with some firesticks and no pants on. It made no sense.

Suddenly another truck drives down on the lake and the redneck starts ripping around like a fool. We watch while he drives himself right into a muddy ditch and we sip our wine as he spins his tires in the distance, attempting to free himself from the hole his front end is now completely submerged in.

Staring is rude so we hop in the rave-mobile and go over to help, energy dust whipping up behind us.

The man introduces himself as Duke. The Duke. Trippy.

There's not much Gerran, Sarah Landers and I can do so we grab the wine, move back about twenty meters, kick ourselves for not bringing chairs, and watch for an hour while Dan attempts to yank The Dukes massive shiny, very stuck truck out of the ditch with his much smaller, much older, very tired, beat up old techno-truck.

He failed. Miserably.

I started complaining because there is nowhere to pee when you are stranded in the desert and it was getting dark and the techno beats were starting to sound too good and we forgot our glowsticks and hoola hoops and finally everyone got fed up enough and we agreed the poor bum needed a tow-truck.

We dropped off The Duke at the nearest telephone, Dan changed the satellite station to Bruce Springsteen Radio and we headed back to planet earth.

I got back here and headed for the kitchen where I found a piece of cheesecake and a Kit-Kat bar. I looked at the clock. It was 11:15. I gathered my goods in a tiny bowl and went straight to bed.

Today I feel very hungover.

Here's a photo series of what I will be doing tonight while all you cigarette butts are off being drunken jerks at Music Waste.