Summit County, Colorado
Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column that’s looking forward to its first-ever hot-baked potato massage. In case you haven’t heard about this new treatment yet, it’s something like a hot stone massage, only better, because you can chow down on the spuds once you’re done enjoying the beneficial vibes of having oven-toasted potatoes resting on those chi nodes on your back.
MILLIONS OF SUMMIT UP READERS: “Really? A hot-baked potato massage? What will they think of next? Can we do the spud thingy right after we do our oatmeal bath and our apricot-pit facial scrub?”
SUMMIT UP: But of course! And let us be the first to tell you, you could actually win a hot-potato massage by joining in the Summit Daily’s new interactive photo feature, online only at http://www.summitdaily.com/travelphotos. All you have to do is submit a “mystery photo” and try and guess where other mystery photos were taken by leaving a comment in the comment box, below the picture.
We’ll look at all the cool shots, and by and by, when we’ve got a few good ones, we’ll publish ’em in the real-live paper version of the Summit Daily. Any questions can be e-mailed to our travel editor email@example.com.
MSUR: “Sounds pretty cool, We’ve got some pictures we’ve been itchin’ to show people. How do we sign up? And how do we get our pictures in there? We tried like pushing our prints into the disk slot on the side of our computer, but it didn’t do anything.”
SU: Very funny, ha-ha. You need to be logged into the Summit Daily’s ever-growing community of readers. Pretty easy. Then you just browse through all the zillions of digitized images on your computer and upload ’em. It’s just a couple of clicks.
MSUR: “Sweet. We’re hoping this is one venue where we can post stuff without being viciously attacked by some political hack who thinks that (insert name of least favorite president here) is the cause of all our woes, and that, by association, we are lower than pond scum.”
SU: Yeah, we’re hoping the same thing. We’ve conceived this to be a non-political, rant-free zone. And we’re thinking of giving away other fabulous prizes, like the world’s most colorful collection of dryer lint, recently inherited from our Uncle Angus, in Tulsa. We also have some pretty sweet needlepoint doilies. We’re not sure where we got ’em, but we’re going to offer them up as a prize, along with a boxful of semi-used AAA batteries, a dog-eared back issue of the Mountain Gazette and a pair of rusty tweezers.
And one day, when thousands of you are signed up and actively participating, in out little event, we’ll get a huge corporate sponsor lined up, maybe Orbitz, or Travelocity. And then we’ll be able to give a way a real prize, like a trip to Peoria!
MSUR: “Why Peoria?”
SU: Dunno, just sounds like one of those real exotic names. We’ve never been, but when we see Peoria in our mind’s eye, we envision noble peacocks strutting down streets of sparkly quartzite cobblestones, where wandering gollards with ivory lyres play medieval folk tunes and perform latin satire, whilst young lads and lasses in frilly outfits twirl around a wine-spurting golden fountain. It’s just one of those place-names that evokes, at least for us.
MSUR: “Hmmm, we’ve been to Peoria, and the closest we saw to all that were some golden arches. Oh, and we did notice a Ford dealership on the outskirts of town. But they weren’t selling any gilded chariots, as far as we could tell.”
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