Queerty correspondent Jimmy Im‘s certainly dedicated to his craft. And when we say “craft”, we mean boozing it up with thousands of hot gay guys at Whistler’s annual WinterPride.

In yesterday’s edition of “Gays Gone Wild: Whistler”, Mr. Im (pictured above with an equally adventurous friend) offered a bit of an introduction to the annual queer ski fest with a little Vancouver pre-gaming.

Well, today he finally makes it to the resort town for a some fancy hotel action, exciting ski action and, of course, some hot action action. Now that we think about it, we’re not exactly sure why we didn’t go, instead. Oh, right, court order…

Oh well, good thing Im’s got his eye on the gay prize. Read what we mean, after the jump.

A brisk early morning yesterday found us getting on a bus to Whistler, where we were fortunate to observe the remnants of yesterdays headlining landslide. While we could
have taken it as a sign, we literally trudged along with positive thoughts, looking forward to skiing and random sex (2,500 gays are expected to attend WinterPride this year; you do the math).

Speaking of sex, my friend Sam and I had orgasmic reactions to our
sweet suite at the Pan Pacific (see below), where we cruised the bounty of gays lurking in the lobby. Looks like we’re not the only ones who’s appreciating the Aveda bathroom amenities. Nestled safely (and warmly!) in our room, we leered down at some hot-tub happy gays as they finally bared a little skin.
While facing my acrophobia by zipping through the Blackcomb Mountains, I was happy to see that our hot Australian guide was strapped in pretty tight, revealing some boys that were eager to meet us.

The Gay Whistler group was on top of their mission by setting up riveting events for us. We were curious to explore the Men’s Singles and Sex Foods, a cooking party at a private residence at the ultra-posh Four Seasons Resort. We arrived to find several gays wearing chef hats that revealed the food they most closely resemble (I don’t do weird hats: but I would have been pig). The food – oysters, chocolate dipped strawberries, proscuitto-wrapped asparagus – was quite delish, but a martini party at Savage Beagle had reserved seats for the lush. “Martinis” were misleading, as good ol’ Canadian beer was the drink of choice.

The typical gay night ended with what seemed like contagious kissing and a round of meat-and-greet, if you know what I mean.

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