Clearly

I was just looking through my pictures and found one of my favorite ones of Bonnie and Hannah.

It clearly reveals why I always talk about what a little diva Bonnie is and why Hannah is my little wallflower (obviously, her sister gives her no choice in the matter).

You Know When...

So, you know when it's FINALLY a nice day (sunny AND warm... what a concept) so you decide to take the dogs out before heading to the gym for a little pre-gym warm up and so that your Aussie Shepard stops giving you death threats (she makes eye contact with you then looks at the leashes and then moves her paw across her throat in a fairly grotesque yet obvious fashion that lets you know that it's either a walk or certain death). And you're walking and enjoying the weather and minding your own business and your letting the dogs roll all over the grass and snow because you figure they really don't have a lot of grass to roll around at home and then you look down and realize that they are not rolling in grass and snow as much as they are rolling in grass and snow and a dead animal. And you scream "Oh shit!" and pull your dogs off of the deceased creature and they're upset because it was the most wonderful thing that has happened to them in a while but they get over it because they're dogs and have a short-term memory of three seconds (or is that the goldfish?) but either way they get over it and just go back to rolling around on the grass and snow that isn't covered in dead animal. And then you look at the dead animal to make sure that it's actually dead and not covered in maggots or anything and at first you think that it's some sort of monster like THIS and you get grossed out but kinda excited because you think that you just discovered a new organism and you think you'll be famous and people other than your immediate family will ACTUALLY READ YOUR BLOG because you discovered this animal (though, of course, you'll have to give some credit to Bonnie and Hannah because they were actually the ones who discovered it by insisting on rolling in it) and you are now famous. And then you look again and realize that no, it's just a plain old raccoon and nobody is going to make a fuss over a mushed raccoon even if your dogs did roll in it and even if it looks like a monster now. So you think wow, maybe I should blog about this because there's really nothing to blog about but then you realize that nobody will want to read about how your dogs rolled in a dead raccoon even if it could have been a monster but then you realize that sometimes you just have to share so you end up writing a number of run-on sentences about the raccoon.

But you can't write about it right away, no, because you have things to do. First you have to contemplate washing your dogs because they rolled in monster/raccoon and they probably smell bad but you aren't positive because you really don't want to test the theory and then you look outside and see that the dogs are rolling around in a pile of snow in the backyard and you think wow, what good doggies they are giving themselves a bath so that's one thing you can cross off of your list. And then you think, OK, now I can blog about all of this but then you look at the clock and realize that you need to get to the gym because Law & Order: CI is starting and you like to watch it on the gym televisions while you are on the elliptical so you really need to get going. So you decide to take your computer with you and treat yourself to a sandwich and skinny iced chai after Law & Order: CI while you blog about all of the exciting things that have happened that day. But then you decide to go to a coffee shop that you've never been to and even though it's really nice you end up spending over ten bucks on a extra small skinny iced chai and tiny sandwich and you get a little upset because it's not like you have a job but then you convince yourself that it's OK because it's Friday and you haven't really spent any money this week anyway so it's all good.

And then you remember that there IS something semi-interesting to write about but you've forgotten about it up until now because the whole dog-raccoon-slash-monster-Law-and-Order-expensive-food-and-drink-fiasco that is your life distracted you.

Since my brother is traveling Oceania, my mother is on her way to see said brother and then to stay a week on an island in Fiji that has 12 private beaches for a total population of 14 couples and my father is about to visit all seven continents... well I figure I need to do something otherwise I'll be the total laughing stock of my family and I should just get the pint of ice cream right now to let the self-loathing begin. But no, I'm going to travel the country and experience life and do something oh-so-crazy.

So I'm going to Nashville (which sounds like kinda a let down when you compare it to what the rest of me family is doing but that's OK).

There's a conference there for women who blog and so I decided to go and see what it's all about and hopefully get to have a drink with the fabulous Jen Lancaster who will be the keynote speaker and I figure that even if it blows it'll at least give me something more interesting to blog about than my dogs' affinity for dead animals.

Whew...

(PS: I know this isn't my regular style of writing but it's been one of those days where I'm thinking without punctuation and I downed that skinny iced chai super fast and therefore am having major caffeine overload. Plus I've been reading a lot of the bloggess and this is how she writes so I wanted to try it because she's hilarious and I want to be funny someday, too.)

Guilty Pleasures

We all have things that we indulge in that we are not all that proud of.

We just don't want to admit that we like certain things.

Whether it's trashy romance novels, the occasional soap opera, or the Spice Girls, we try to keep it under wraps that we are fans.

(No I don't watch soap operas... yes, I will always love the Spice Girls...)

(Girl Power!!)

Well... my guilty pleasure is the awesome, the disgusting, and the truly remarkable reality contest: Rock of Love Bus with Bret Michaels.

(I'd like to say that I enjoy the show because of my background in sociology: it's truly amazing to examine the societal structures and interactions at play on such a show, especially from a liberal feminist perspective... but it'd be a big fat lie...)

Now, don't judge me.

I don't smoke, don't drink, don't take part in illegal substances, and I don't watch American Idol.

I am allowed one vice.

And I choose Bret and his cast of crazy-ass biahtches.

I wasn't even going to post about it, but I can't deny myself this purging of my feelings any longer.

(Plus, Bret was on The Today Show this morning. I figure that if they can talk about it, so can I...)

For those of you who don't know what Rock of Love Bus is, let me quickly fill you in.

Bret Michaels, the lead singer of the eighties hair-band Poison, is in search of his other half. The man just wants someone to share his music, his home, and his mascara with. He wants a woman who is ready to party with him, worship him, and participate in groupie threesomes with him.

Now, the poor guy was not having much luck, so Bret and VH1 teemed up to find him his true love. There have been two seasons, and he has still had no such luck.

(*tear*)

Then, this season, it hit him that he's on the road 300 days a year (where? I have no idea... who goes to a Bret Michaels' concert?), so having these women compete for his love while stuck at home in a mansion must be the problem with the whole reality contest = true love equation.

And so, this season Bret has commandeered two extra tour buses to cart his 20 lovely ladies around the country with him (to really classy and exciting places, like Kentucky and Indiana).

The women will compete for one-on-one dates with Bret, and at the end of each episode, Bret has to say a tearful (/hilarious) goodbye to one or more of them.

So, you may be wondering why the hell I would enjoy this. Ha! So many reasons.

First of all, the women that they find for these shows are mind-blowing. As in they make you want to blow your brains out. The first two seasons had quite a few crazy girls (Lacy), strippers (Heather), and sociopaths (that crazy bitch Megan who really needs to be locked up in some sort of institution).

But this season... these girls are in a league of their own.


Where the hell did VH1 find these creatures? I can only assume that they had to do their casting calls at some sort of convention (for strippers, porn stars, the circus...).

At least 98 percent of them have implants, which wouldn't be that surprising on its own, except that these implants are about the size of pumpkins. I mean, forget cantaloupes and honeydews, these breasts are the size of prize-winning watermelons! Who are these women's doctors?? And how do they stuff these boobs into extra small mini-dresses without busting a seam?

It's truly like watching gravity fail on television.

The amount of silicone, collagen, and hairspray is absolutely outstanding.

The next thing that is amazing about the show is what comes out of these girls’ mouths.

Personal favorites so far (there have only been two episodes):

• One girl said that she got her implants (the size of overweight babies) so that she would be unable to climb walls to do graffiti, and therefore would stay out of jail... This was right before this same girl rapped for Bret, reading the lyrics off of the back of a sheet labeled "Facts About Genital Herpes"...
• A confirmed porn star (Bret has seen her movies) screamed at a black girl that the only reason the black girl was there was because of her race. And then, when the black girl told this porn star that she was, indeed, a racist, the porn star proceeded to cry, "I'm not a racist! My grandfather is black! And he is a big, beautiful black man!" She then went and cried herself to sleep in a bed shaped like a spaceship.
• And finally, when a model (read, Penthouse Pet) said: "I take off my clothes for Penthouse and I'm the classiest one here!" The scary thing is that she was totally right.

You cannot write this stuff! Seriously! Some reality shows (enter, The Hills) are scripted and the scripts aren't even this entertaining!

Finally, the funniest thing (/most depressing thing ever) about this show is how these girls truly believe that what they are doing is finding TRUE LOVE.

They believe that Bret Michaels is their prince, their happily ever after... their soul mate.

Well, ladies, sorry to break it to you, but it just ain't so.

But, you know what? Thank you for giving me hours of entertainment, lots of laughs, and a very long blog post.

Now I have to go... I have a very important appointment with my plastic surgeon.

Good for Nothing

Our friend, Gordon, is an artist. He recently graduated and is trying to find employment.

(See! I'm not the ONLY one!)

He offered to paint something for us, since he has the time.

(BTW: I politely asked him to not do anything productive during his unemployment time, as it makes me look bad.)

Mike: Would you do a trade for one of your paintings?

Gordon: Sure, you're a photographer... I'd be up for a trade.

Me: Wait! You don't want anything from me? I mean, I know I don't have a lot - or, really, anything - to offer, but I'd at least like to be considered. Maybe some witty commentary in exchange for your art?

Gordon: OK. How about you follow me around for a whole day, narrating my life?

Me: Hmmm... I'm really gonna have to put in some solid effort and time with that... I'll think about it.

Thinking about it now... I just don't know if I'm willing to make that kind of commitment...

UPDATE: Compromise

For this to make sense... read this first.

As I left the ice cream shop, I caved and asked for a sample of the Pumpkin Fudge Swirl.

And you know what... I'm glad I was able to resist.

It really wasn't that good.

It wasn't worth it.

Oh yeah... you should know.

......

LIES! ALL LIES!!

That taste was the best thing ever. It was amazing.

IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT!!

I had to duck and run out of the building before I asked for a pint to eat in the car.

I know I sound crazy. Out of control. Completely over the top.

Well, you know what?

Come to Boulder, taste that ice cream, and then call me crazy.

In other words: don't knock it 'till you try it.

Distractions

I'm sitting in a coffee shop / ice cream emporium and I'm trying not to eat ice cream.

I actually used to work here.

Sometimes I liked it. Sometimes I hated it.

All in all it was a lot like every job out there.

I said that I quit because I didn't like management and because I was getting dicked over by not being promoted and therefore given a much deserved raise... but another huge reason that I left was because I was gaining about 2 pounds a week.

(And I seemed to be the only one who was gaining weight. Seriously. ALL of the girls who worked with me looked like Barbie with Bulimia. It SUCKED.)

(Oh my Brad... some guy just ordered a Waffle Cone (homemade) with Carmel Oreo and Carmel Brownie Blast... My whole mouth just filled with saliva... (over the thought of the ice cream... not the dude... just thought I'd clarify).)

And so I decided (with much encouragement from my mother) to not work at this place anymore.

But I've been coming here a lot because it's usually empty during the day, there's free wifi, and plenty of tables so that I don't have to share my personal space with a hippie taking espresso shots and reading Marx.

(Which happens in other, smaller coffee shops all of the time.)

(Sorta...)

But, you would think that I should just leave. Go home. Remove myself from the Banana Carmel Crunch (my personal fave), the Mint Oreo, and the (new!) Pumpkin Fudge Swirl.

But alas, here I am... living vicariously through the wave of customers that have just entered.

(No! Don't get the lemon gelato! Butterfinger is the way to go!)

(A CAKE cone?? What are you? Five? Oh wait... you are five. Never mind...)

I tried to distract myself by reading my current book, Special Topics in Calamity Physics by Marisha Pessl.

(It's a novel... not a textbook. When Mike got it for me last Christmas I thought he had given me a non-fiction book about physics and I was about to yell at him for "not knowing me at all!"... but it's a novel... so he does know me.)

This is one of those books, though, that takes an amazing amount of actual thought.

I'm a real big fan of reading books that you can just sort of fall into. Books that you don't have to try too hard with.

(Enter The Twilight Saga)

But Pessl has written a book that just screams that she is WAY smarter than me.

Lots of references to books I've never read/heard of and movies I've never seen/heard of.

Don't get me wrong. I like it a lot. It's just a little slow... and long (500 plus pages)... and it's really not doing the trick in distracting me from a scoop of Birthday Cake ice cream.

(It tastes like frosting!!)

And so I took Edward out and am now trying to distract myself by rambling about ice cream flavors (Junior Mint!) and smart people.

(And I am now trying not to hate these three girls behind me who "just can't take another bite of this Death By Chocolate!" HATE!!)

(OK... maybe I should just leave... before I do something that I'll regret...)

Apocalypse Boulder

SO... apparently this town is completely falling apart.

There are still hurricane winds.

There was a freakin WILDFIRE in North Boulder!

(No worries... Ally B and all of her affiliates are safe and sound... here's a super cool picture by Mikey.)

And now, there is a fender bender in front of my driveway.

Seriously... What the hell??

The fender bender isn't a huge deal, except that it's blocking my car. I was going to go to the gym, but I've taken the car crash as a sign to "just say no".

I mean, I could just slip by, but I'd have to slip by two cops and a tow truck.

(And it's probably NOT the best idea to ask the police officer to "get outta my way and off my property"... just a hunch.)

Plus, Bonnie is very upset that there are people near her backyard, and therefore is telling them off every few minutes. I would hate to leave and then have to go bail her out when they arrest her for disturbing the peace or aggravated assault. She has little respect for the law, or "the man"... especially when they are near her backyard.

And so, something is going on here. The wind needs to stop. The fire needs to be put out. And these idiots need to learn how to drive.

And I should probably go to the gym... it looks like the car is on the tow truck, the cops will probably leave soon, and Bonnie will go back to barking at some cat that has been tormenting her for the past few days.

OR I could hunker down, gather canned goods, and wait for the next disaster to befall this crazy city.