I'm ba-ack. The trip home was hell. The bus was packed and the driver seemed to be pressing on the gas in slow motion. It took forever but gave me more time to take in the view.

I sat next to another hot boy, but I couldn't bring myself to imagine he was my boyfriend this time round. I'm all sexed out (but I think I'll save those particular details for my upcoming cover story). Don't judge me! It's Pride. If your ass isn't leaking glitter, amongst other things, then you just haven't done it right.

The circuit queens arrived on Friday for the weekend, boosting the village energy. Of course, you wouldn't notice on the slopes since most of them don't ski and are just in town for the parties. The receptionist at my hotel said that basically everywhere in Whistler was booked for the weekend. 

I interviewed some ski-week participants using my deep-throating skills to extract quotes (hey, Barbara Walters has her tactics, and I have mine). I also interviewed ski-week organizer Dean Nelson, who talked about celebrating the event's 20th anniversary and responded to accusations by some Vancouver promoters that ski week is monopolized and not all-inclusive (what's Pride without a little drama, right?)

For my full WinterPride story, check out the upcoming issue of Xtra. 

So yesterday I was trying to be zen about having to change hotels, but this morning when I had to wake up and pack all my shit (which was thrown all over the place, naturally), with a red-wine hangover, a sore asshole, sleep crust in my eyes, and my skin reeking of chlorine (pool party!), I was less than thrilled.

They wanted to send me to a hotel located in "Upper Whistler," which I was okay with at first because upper usually means richer. And I'm on a hunt for a mountain sugar daddy! I'm telling you, all people do here is ski/snowboard, hot tub and get wasted. I don't ski or snowboard (or do anything athletic beyond plucking my eyebrows), but I do love sleeping with snowboarders, so I could get used to this!

I was all set for Upper Whistler until I realized that everywhere I need to be is in the village, and I am not taking taxis or (protect your eyes!) public transportation. It took only one petulant sigh for them to miraculously find me a more accommodating abode. I just have to wait for it to be cleaned, so I'm hanging out in the village un-showered, half-drunk, and did I mention my ass is sore?

I met an Aussie at the pool party yesterday. An Aussie! That's one thing I can cross off my bucket list. He was the cutest blond there (besides me). We started in the pool and ended in his bed at the Hilton. Of course, I interviewed him for my cover story before I put his dick in my mouth. I'm a professional!

The comedy show was fun, too (although about nine uncut inches less fun than the pool party).  

Today's to-do list:

2pm: The Mr Gay World press conference at the Conference Centre. The boys are getting tested on their publicity skills. Easy. Whoever takes off his shirt first will be the obvious winner. 

3-6pm: The Tea Dance directly follows the press conference. DJ Tom Jones and "tasty libations of Finlandia vodka, Barefoot wine and Whistler beer."

9pm-2am: Celebrities Snowstorm in Whistler. Celebs brings it to the mountain at Garfinkel's. Vancouver's DJ Betossi and drag star Syren DeMille are in the house.

9pm-2am: Purrlesque at Garibaldi Lift Co. Hosted by Samantha Mack and starring Burgundy Brixx, followed by a DJ set from Vancouver's Kasey Riot.

I arrived this afternoon for my three-day vacay (or, err, "work trip") in Whistler for WinterPride! I'm doing the cover story for Xtra's upcoming issue. I'm a cover boy! And I didn't even have to sleep with my editor!

I took a Greyhound and had to sit at the back next to the stinky toilets, but I was more worried about being decapitated like that poor boy in Portage la Prairie a few years ago than I was about the eau de toilette.

The last time I took a Greyhound was from Winnipeg to New York City, almost five years ago! That was a three-day trip from hell, but I needed it to calm my nerves and prepare myself for what exactly I was getting into. The Prairies to NYC is a more drastic change than Kansas to Oz, because there are no munchkins or good witches to guide you. Just a bunch of power-walking Yanks who wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire (although they might if you try to steal their cab).

I didn't care where I was sitting when a gorgeous snowboarder sat next to me. He was all like, "Is this seat taken, bro?" And all I could do was blush and try to conceal my hard-on. Needless to say, I spent the entire two-and-a-half hour voyage up the mountain pretending he was my boyfriend. I didn't strike up a conversation because I'm a pussy (and well, I was trying to keep our "relationship" realistic; we probably had nothing in common except wild après-ski sex). Unfortunately, I could tell when our arms accidentally touched that he wasn't same-sex oriented (he flinched, I pre-came). Story of my life!

I'm staying at Blackcomb Lodge in a beautiful suite because the WinterPride organizers booked the wrong dates for me to be here, so the hotel had to make some last-minute rearrangements. Upgrade! Unfortunately, it means that they have to transfer me to a different hotel tomorrow since they're all booked up -- but I learned that all good things must come to an end a long time ago. When I was 16 years old, in fact, after doing a line for the first time (and 15 minutes later started tweaking like I'd just been kissed by the angel of death). 

The Pride march was this afternoon, followed by Whistler Mayor Nancy Wilhelm-Morden saying a few words in celebration of WinterPride's 20th anniversary at the Conference Centre. 

There are a few gays wandering the village, but most must still be on the slopes because the straights dominate. I can tell they're straight because hetero dudes always stand a little taller when I walk past. I think it's because deep down they know they would let me blow them if they were wasted enough . . . Fuck stilettos, girls; nothing gives height like repression!

Gay or straight, these rosy-cheeked mountain babes are worth the bedbugs I probably picked up on the Greyhound. I'm glad to be here! Fill you in on my adventures more tomorrow.

Tonight's to-do list:

1. Comedy Night: Going to see Vancouver's own Symone Says host a comedy show, with opening comedian Julia Stretch (Vancouver), followed by comedian Jason Stuart (Hollywood)!

2. Pool Party: Late-night watersport fun at Meadow Park Sports Centre. Gonna get wet 'n' wild . . . jealous, dear diary? 

I know many of you are heading up to Whistler this week for WinterPride. Here's a little something something I lifted off the gaywhistler.com website:

This is the Xtra-sponsored event at this year's WinterPride. As you can tell by the photo above, there are going to be A LOT of balls there. Get your tickets here. 

Turns out a local tour company (Destination Tours/Destination Snow) has stepped up and is trying out an LGBT tour package for 2011 WinterPride (Feb 4-6) in Whistler, specifically targeting queer UBC students. I've gone the last two years and had some of the best winter fun of my life. I can only imagine what it would be like with a bus full of university students. Call me!

Why am I posting this in October? Well, I can't plan my way out of a paper bag, so here's my attempt at helping you help yourself. Or something. I also went on an Okanagan tour with this company this past summer and had a blast.