I can't believe this is for real:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5yqVnCAiWHw
This is probably not necessary to say, but I'm really glad this story wasn't among Peter Rabbit and Where the Wild Things Are when I was a wee babe. This is just what we need, folks . . . a bunch of toddlers running around telling people to "go the f*#k to sleep." Not like that doesn't already happen. SLJ can even attest to that. Ahhhh good stuff. Just warms my heart.
6/15/11
6/13/11
sunday drive.
As any normal adventure-seeker would, I spent my weekend away from home. This past weekend I experienced the thrills of the fine city of Albuquerque, New Mexico. It's been nearly two years since I've graced Duke City with my presence, so it felt like an appropriate time to re-visit. Naturally I was accompanied by my dear gentleman friend, so with that alone the level of fantasticness increased tenfold.
Day one included me driving down, guzzling two 12-oz. Red Bulls, scoring a really high energy buzz, and promptly crashing once Kyle got into town. Awesome.
Day two included sleeping until noon (WHAT? I know, right?), one of the best Whole Foods trips of my life, running 5ish miles up and down the side of a hill, then rage-facing in Nob Hill on Gay Pride Day. Score.
Day three included sleeping until 11 . . . yesssss . . . brunch, laying by the pool, then driving home. Oh. The drive home.
What started out as a quick thing to check off my Sunday to-do list suddenly became a freaking catastrophe, one incident after another.
First, I had a couple on/off issues with my overdrive. Whatever. These things happen people.
Next, as I was approaching Raton, NM (about the halfway mark), I was admiring a giant smoke cloud coming from the hills northwest of Raton. It was lovely, really. Huge, reddish-pink, spanning across about ohhh 3,000 acres. Well, next thing I know, traffic has stopped and cars are being detoured because the lovely cloud is a raging wildfire which has just jumped the interstate and thanks to Mother Nature's violent wind, is uncontainable. Sweet Mercury. SO. I start to head southwest. The exact opposite direction I wanted to be going.
My 6ish hour drive ended up being over 8. Gross.
BUT, on the drive I encountered all of the wildnerness wonders Colorado and Northern NM have to offer: a big dopey elk crossing (literally), ferrel cat crossing, gorgeous back-country (if only I could have seen it) with winding roads and plenty of oh-shit moments, about seven million cow crossing signs (really, CO?), deer.deer.deer.deer. antelope. deer.deer. antelope. deer . . . you get the point, but then. THEN. As I was passing an old pickup who was clearly and annoyingly abiding by the speed limit, I noticed a few blobs in my near distance. What.The.Fbomb.Is.That. Horses! There was a band of horses scattered on the road just south of San Luis, CO. Thankfully I was able to slam on the breaks in time to dodge a few of the less intelligent ones standing in the middle of the road before they scattered off, but I almost wet my drawers. Going through town there was no one in sight nor any open stores to notify of the horse issue going on behind me. I tried to flash my brights at oncoming traffic, but I'm pretty sure all that did was annoy people into flashing me back.
I made it home at the ripe hour of half-past-one and settled in for a short night of kitty nuzzles and George head-wraps (his new thing).
If I could have three wishes today, one of them would be for better weather in the southwest because I don't know if I can handle another 8-hour reroute through back-country Colorado. I'll keep my fingers crossed.
Day one included me driving down, guzzling two 12-oz. Red Bulls, scoring a really high energy buzz, and promptly crashing once Kyle got into town. Awesome.
Day two included sleeping until noon (WHAT? I know, right?), one of the best Whole Foods trips of my life, running 5ish miles up and down the side of a hill, then rage-facing in Nob Hill on Gay Pride Day. Score.
Day three included sleeping until 11 . . . yesssss . . . brunch, laying by the pool, then driving home. Oh. The drive home.
What started out as a quick thing to check off my Sunday to-do list suddenly became a freaking catastrophe, one incident after another.
First, I had a couple on/off issues with my overdrive. Whatever. These things happen people.
Next, as I was approaching Raton, NM (about the halfway mark), I was admiring a giant smoke cloud coming from the hills northwest of Raton. It was lovely, really. Huge, reddish-pink, spanning across about ohhh 3,000 acres. Well, next thing I know, traffic has stopped and cars are being detoured because the lovely cloud is a raging wildfire which has just jumped the interstate and thanks to Mother Nature's violent wind, is uncontainable. Sweet Mercury. SO. I start to head southwest. The exact opposite direction I wanted to be going.
My 6ish hour drive ended up being over 8. Gross.
BUT, on the drive I encountered all of the wildnerness wonders Colorado and Northern NM have to offer: a big dopey elk crossing (literally), ferrel cat crossing, gorgeous back-country (if only I could have seen it) with winding roads and plenty of oh-shit moments, about seven million cow crossing signs (really, CO?), deer.deer.deer.deer. antelope. deer.deer. antelope. deer . . . you get the point, but then. THEN. As I was passing an old pickup who was clearly and annoyingly abiding by the speed limit, I noticed a few blobs in my near distance. What.The.Fbomb.Is.That. Horses! There was a band of horses scattered on the road just south of San Luis, CO. Thankfully I was able to slam on the breaks in time to dodge a few of the less intelligent ones standing in the middle of the road before they scattered off, but I almost wet my drawers. Going through town there was no one in sight nor any open stores to notify of the horse issue going on behind me. I tried to flash my brights at oncoming traffic, but I'm pretty sure all that did was annoy people into flashing me back.
I made it home at the ripe hour of half-past-one and settled in for a short night of kitty nuzzles and George head-wraps (his new thing).
If I could have three wishes today, one of them would be for better weather in the southwest because I don't know if I can handle another 8-hour reroute through back-country Colorado. I'll keep my fingers crossed.
6/10/11
thursday night sesh.
Last night after getting Jen some squeaky new tires and getting her alignment all set so that she's no longer a crazy knock-kneed redhead, I had to burn off some steam sooooooo I headed to one of my favorite hang-outs: the gym. Duh. It was full of only Denver's finest as usual. I saw meathead after meathead, flexing in the mirrors, giving me weird looks while I was doing push-ups (come on, they're gonna look a little awkward. I'm a girl.), and barking at each other. No, I'm not kidding. But I wish I were. Anyone who even remotely appears attractive can pretty much bank on shooting themselves in the foot with that by barking in public. Just sayin. Not like I wasn't amused though . . .
So after a few miles on the old treads (mind-numbing) and a little upper bod biz, I decided my shirt was sweaty enough to go home. The rest of my night consisted of eating ham and eggs while chatting with my Pops (SEE--> Papa Bear and you'll know the convo was awesome), then pouring an XL glass of vino and settling in to watch an epic Lifetime account of William & Kate that my co-worker lent to me. (Side note: I'm not proud to admit that this was how I spent my Thursday evening, but I'm also really not too concerned about it. Such is life.) She's all sorts of jazzed about the Royals, so she wanted me to share in her delightful indulgence. I unfortunately could almost care less (yes, they're gorgeous and will rule England and that's rad, but come on . . .). I applaud Lifetime for their efforts but can't help to think it's a little weird how infatuated American media and entertainment groups have become over this couple. It was hard enough for me to keep a straight face while watching that, so I can't imagine what WillKate thinks of it.
In other news, I just watched the CEO of my company chase her dog around the office. It was fantastic. Silver linings, people. Silver. Linings.
So after a few miles on the old treads (mind-numbing) and a little upper bod biz, I decided my shirt was sweaty enough to go home. The rest of my night consisted of eating ham and eggs while chatting with my Pops (SEE--> Papa Bear and you'll know the convo was awesome), then pouring an XL glass of vino and settling in to watch an epic Lifetime account of William & Kate that my co-worker lent to me. (Side note: I'm not proud to admit that this was how I spent my Thursday evening, but I'm also really not too concerned about it. Such is life.) She's all sorts of jazzed about the Royals, so she wanted me to share in her delightful indulgence. I unfortunately could almost care less (yes, they're gorgeous and will rule England and that's rad, but come on . . .). I applaud Lifetime for their efforts but can't help to think it's a little weird how infatuated American media and entertainment groups have become over this couple. It was hard enough for me to keep a straight face while watching that, so I can't imagine what WillKate thinks of it.
In other news, I just watched the CEO of my company chase her dog around the office. It was fantastic. Silver linings, people. Silver. Linings.
6/9/11
papa bear.
I've mentioned my pops before and although my tone sardonizes at times (I just decided that's a word), I speak only in the most endearing of fashions. As my years on this giant ball continue to increase (twenty-FOUR-woof), the realization that I'm a lot more like Rad Dad becomes increasingly evident. One thing in particular I can point out right away . . . channeling our inner child. Before I think this was completely misunderstood between the two of us. Need an example?
"What!? No, you can't quit the middle school band. If you quit the band now, you'll be a quitter your whole life."
Ouch, Pop.
"But Daaaaaaaaad, I hate it and can use my time more effectively in study hall (yeah right). I need to learn."
Bullshit, Daughter.
"Fine. Do what you want but I think you're making a big mistake. Think about your future."
Whatever. I was just sick of the political BS that went into middle school band, even if I was a favorite in the percussion section. I needed some freedom dammit. Two days later I re-joined the band and Pops and I went along our merry awkward way of misunderstanding.
But then I began to realize our similarities. Our ridiculous similarities.
You get the two of us in a car together and here's the typical scene:
Him: We should probably stop for gas first (totally planned) . . . and I could use a Diet MD (ugh, groooss Dad) and some munchies for the road.
Me: Totally. You read my mind, sir.
Gas break. He grabs a DMD, I grab a Diet Coke or something horrible unhealthy like a Frappuccino, he grabs Andy Caps Flaming Hot Fries or Wasabi trail mix, I grab Peanut M&Ms. Shit, it's clockwork.
You've never seen happier little clams than when we're back in the cab, nestled in for a two-hour snack ride up north to his lake house. Don't even get me started on carrot cake . . . that's another story for another day.
With all this in mind, I couldn't have been less surprised last month when he called to tell me about the new rad '82ish hog he bought. It was all I could do not to laugh listening to him rave about it, all the while I was picturing him buzzing down the open road, rocking his flame bandana and skull cap helmet, holding a bag of Andy Caps in his left hand. Top day dream right there. So then I was even less less surprised when he called me last week to tell me he's trading in his 'bike' for this weird go-kart/gator/4-wheeler thing. And so began another fantastic chain of day dreams . . . Pops and Co. buzzing through the woods, crawling over rocks and roots, splashing mud on angry beavers and chasing bunnies. I could hardly contain my elation.
Needless to say, for Father's Day Pops is getting one wicked American Flag helmet. Oh, and you better believe he's gonna be stoked.
"What!? No, you can't quit the middle school band. If you quit the band now, you'll be a quitter your whole life."
Ouch, Pop.
"But Daaaaaaaaad, I hate it and can use my time more effectively in study hall (yeah right). I need to learn."
Bullshit, Daughter.
"Fine. Do what you want but I think you're making a big mistake. Think about your future."
Whatever. I was just sick of the political BS that went into middle school band, even if I was a favorite in the percussion section. I needed some freedom dammit. Two days later I re-joined the band and Pops and I went along our merry awkward way of misunderstanding.
But then I began to realize our similarities. Our ridiculous similarities.
You get the two of us in a car together and here's the typical scene:
Him: We should probably stop for gas first (totally planned) . . . and I could use a Diet MD (ugh, groooss Dad) and some munchies for the road.
Me: Totally. You read my mind, sir.
Gas break. He grabs a DMD, I grab a Diet Coke or something horrible unhealthy like a Frappuccino, he grabs Andy Caps Flaming Hot Fries or Wasabi trail mix, I grab Peanut M&Ms. Shit, it's clockwork.
You've never seen happier little clams than when we're back in the cab, nestled in for a two-hour snack ride up north to his lake house. Don't even get me started on carrot cake . . . that's another story for another day.
With all this in mind, I couldn't have been less surprised last month when he called to tell me about the new rad '82ish hog he bought. It was all I could do not to laugh listening to him rave about it, all the while I was picturing him buzzing down the open road, rocking his flame bandana and skull cap helmet, holding a bag of Andy Caps in his left hand. Top day dream right there. So then I was even less less surprised when he called me last week to tell me he's trading in his 'bike' for this weird go-kart/gator/4-wheeler thing. And so began another fantastic chain of day dreams . . . Pops and Co. buzzing through the woods, crawling over rocks and roots, splashing mud on angry beavers and chasing bunnies. I could hardly contain my elation.
Needless to say, for Father's Day Pops is getting one wicked American Flag helmet. Oh, and you better believe he's gonna be stoked.
6/6/11
wedding bells.
Wedding season has begun . . . and holy cats has it ever. This past weekend el capitan and I trekked westward to Steamboat Springs for a delightful occasion uniting two insanely fantastic spirits. (Last night I found out that the bride legally changed her middle name to Fire. Like I said: insanely fantastic.)
On Saturday we awoke to one of the most gorgeous days ever created, so what did we do? We bought caramel apples, then headed over to the alpine slides. Acting like a kid has never felt so great. I should probably admit that I had a few butterflies pre-slide, but I couldn't decide if those were nerves or freaking-out-excitement for what we were about to do. And great news: nothing about those slides let me down. I've been telling and will continue to tell everyone who missed out on that adventure how imperative it is they get their butts to a slide and let loose.
I haven't had as much fun at a wedding where I knew only a handful of people as I did at this last wedding. Here's the rundown, checklist style:
1. Make awesome "couple" friends and drink with them sitting on horse blanketed hay bales during the ceremony: CHECK.
2. Hear one of the best liturgies ever spoken at a wedding ceremony, then find out the officiant was later canoodling with his ladyfriend behind the tent during the reception: CHECK.
3. Sign a guestbook that was a Coloradan outdoor picture book and come across some extremely graphic stick drawings of the bride and groom: CHECK.
4. Dance all night to reggae: CHECK.
5. Meet sweet people from all over the country whose only two objectives were to drink heavily and be awesome: CHECK.
6. Introduce myself to my friend's dad who introduced himself as only "Smitty" (I still don't know his first name): CHECK.
7. Watch the bride drag a borrowed wedding gown through mud and not give a damn: CHECK.
8. See the most wild array of facial hair humanly possible in one room: CHECK.
9. Have the second best date (sorry, Smitty took the cake on numero uno) but definitely most attractive at the party: CHECK.
10. Buy a post-wedding brocho (drug rug?) and rock it awesomely in the grocery store while buying kitty litter: CHECK.
Long story short, this was the best kickoff to wedding season yet. I hope the other nuptials live up to the debauchery of the 'Boat.
On Saturday we awoke to one of the most gorgeous days ever created, so what did we do? We bought caramel apples, then headed over to the alpine slides. Acting like a kid has never felt so great. I should probably admit that I had a few butterflies pre-slide, but I couldn't decide if those were nerves or freaking-out-excitement for what we were about to do. And great news: nothing about those slides let me down. I've been telling and will continue to tell everyone who missed out on that adventure how imperative it is they get their butts to a slide and let loose.
I haven't had as much fun at a wedding where I knew only a handful of people as I did at this last wedding. Here's the rundown, checklist style:
1. Make awesome "couple" friends and drink with them sitting on horse blanketed hay bales during the ceremony: CHECK.
2. Hear one of the best liturgies ever spoken at a wedding ceremony, then find out the officiant was later canoodling with his ladyfriend behind the tent during the reception: CHECK.
3. Sign a guestbook that was a Coloradan outdoor picture book and come across some extremely graphic stick drawings of the bride and groom: CHECK.
4. Dance all night to reggae: CHECK.
5. Meet sweet people from all over the country whose only two objectives were to drink heavily and be awesome: CHECK.
6. Introduce myself to my friend's dad who introduced himself as only "Smitty" (I still don't know his first name): CHECK.
7. Watch the bride drag a borrowed wedding gown through mud and not give a damn: CHECK.
8. See the most wild array of facial hair humanly possible in one room: CHECK.
9. Have the second best date (sorry, Smitty took the cake on numero uno) but definitely most attractive at the party: CHECK.
10. Buy a post-wedding brocho (drug rug?) and rock it awesomely in the grocery store while buying kitty litter: CHECK.
Long story short, this was the best kickoff to wedding season yet. I hope the other nuptials live up to the debauchery of the 'Boat.
6/3/11
NDD.
Ohhh my life. Today is National Donut Day.
And of course as I was walking into the office this morning a huge group of my coworkers was leaving to snag up boxes upon boxes of delicious, sugary, glazed, sprinkled and creamy donutness. Then about two hours later, my friend emailed me and here's how the convo went down:
Her: Come get a donut!!
Me: Noooooooooooooo!! Moment on my lips, lifetime on my hips and my gut and my triceps and my cheeks and armpit boob things. But maybe I will . . . maybe.
Her: Yeaa about that - you only live once and it's Friday!! (touche to the cliche?)
Me: You're a bad influence.
Her: At least come hang out!
Fine. I'll come hang out. And pick up a donut while I'm at it. Ugh. I meannn, while it's just sitting there . . . right?
Oh, but it was good. I shared it with the trash can.
And of course as I was walking into the office this morning a huge group of my coworkers was leaving to snag up boxes upon boxes of delicious, sugary, glazed, sprinkled and creamy donutness. Then about two hours later, my friend emailed me and here's how the convo went down:
Her: Come get a donut!!
Me: Noooooooooooooo!! Moment on my lips, lifetime on my hips and my gut and my triceps and my cheeks and armpit boob things. But maybe I will . . . maybe.
Her: Yeaa about that - you only live once and it's Friday!! (touche to the cliche?)
Me: You're a bad influence.
Her: At least come hang out!
Fine. I'll come hang out. And pick up a donut while I'm at it. Ugh. I meannn, while it's just sitting there . . . right?
Oh, but it was good. I shared it with the trash can.
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