Friday, February 29, 2008


I get a lot of inspiration from the blogs I read. In other words, I steal a lot of people's ideas. Mostly because when there is an interesting Meme going around the blogosphere, I'm not interconnected enough to get tagged for it. So what do I do? Take the meme and spread it through the 4 person blogworld that I am connected to. So here is the most recent meme I wanted to partake in, stolen from Los Angelista's blog (who HAS commented on my blog once or twice!).

You, from A-Z:

A- Agnostic. Having been exposed to many different belief systems, including the Quakers, Christian Science, Southern Baptist ministries, Catholicism, Seventh Day Adventist, Paganism, Atheists, Buddhism, and random other assortments, I am currently in limbo as to what I believe. I think that as human beings were are naturally curious about things, and are constantly in search of answers. I used to think that people made up the existence of an afterlife, or some God-like entity in order to cope with the pain of unexplained tragedies, and to quell the fear we have about what happens after you die. I still believe that many of the details and rules of each religion are human-created and irrational, but there has to be an explanation as to why so many different cultures have been fascinated and devoted to the idea of a higher power. I pray/meditate sometimes, though I still have some questions as to WHO or WHAT I am praying to.

B- Breasts. Ok, I know, TMI. But honestly, as much as I hate to admit it, they have been a defining part of my persona since I was about 11 years old. They have been a source of torture and humiliation, personal hatred, and complete embarrassment. I think it was described best in Reviving Ophelia, that the day a girl realizes she is no longer a just a kid, but a sexual object, a period of mourning begins, that no one ever acknowledges. The day I discovered that my breasts were not something I wanted to hide, but served a useful purpose, was a great day in deed. Thanks LB. Thanks for appreciating the boob juice.

C- California/Colorado. The love/hate dynamic that revolves around these two entities, is almost as interesting as the love/hate relationship between Colorado and Texas. Since I was born in California and have ended up in Colorado, I try to minimize this fact as much as I can. We Durangoans have the perception that Californians move to our quaint little town, find the most pristine cliff with the most gorgeous view, and subsequently build a 3400 sq ft Pink Mansion on it. Which is not to minimize the Texans who haul ass into town, driving the biggest, yellowest Hummer, and shoot all the protected wildlife they can get their paws on. AHHHH gotta love it.

D-Daughter. I am one of two daughters. There were no brothers in my family. My mom's brother has only one daughter. My dad's sister has one daughter. I only have 3 cousins, and I don't really know the male one. When my cousins got together with my family, it was like I had two extra sisters. We are family of daughters. Now I have my own child, continuing the cycle of daughters. Oh, and that Pearl Jam song is really good.

E- Egg Donation. This is a term I never thought would come to identify me, but it has. I'm proud to have helped a couple become a family, not to mention sticking myself in the booty while looking over my shoulder in a mirror is quite a skill to have mastered :P

F-Feet. I know lots of people (mostly city people, I've discovered) HATE feet. They are sweaty, misshapen, stinky objects that touch a most disgusting entity: the floor. Some people quiver at that thought of the germs traveling from the floor to their feet. I'm not one of those people. I was the kid who was barefoot 90% of the summer. Having spent the first half of my childhood on the Orange County beaches, and the second half running through the rolling hills of rural Vermont, I was shoeless for the majority of my prepubescent life. I hate socks with a passion. I refuse to wear socks around the house. If my shoes are coming off, so are my socks. I would rather have icicles on my feet than wear a pair those sweat-catchers. I also think I have rather attractive feet, hence the reason I own so many strappy sandals.

G-Gypsies. I've moved almost every year of my life. Most of my past is still in boxes.

H- Hippies. Skinny-dipping in hot springs. Tabbouleh, hummus, carob, lemongrass, patchouli, sage, phoney baloney, fakin' bacon, tofurkey. Sewing triangle patches into the leg of my jeans. Playing hide and go seek in fields of....well, I found out LATER in life.

I-Inquisitive. I remember asking "why" a lot. It infuriated everyone, and I think a lot of people thought I was extremely rude for asking. In high school, I used to hound my best friend for every piece of information I could. She always did whatever she felt like, and I was intrigued by this. In my family, you were held accountable for everything, so I was used to producing answers. Jiji finally turned on me one day, saying exasperatedly "THERE DOESN'T ALWAYS HAVE TO BE REASON FOR EVERYTHING!" I finally have come to understand this, thank GOD, its a weight off my shoulders.

J- Jolly Rancher. My favorite quote used to be: "Happiness is a fruit punch Jolly Rancher." Deep huh?

K- Kitsch. A word I learned in college while studying media criticism. A word I began to hate, since it only made me realize how insane we are all making ourselves over what is considered "good" and "bad." What is considered worth while, and what is just a load of crap. This word also entered into many a late night Denny's conversations on what was "art." Those conversations usually led to endless cups of coffee and the sun eventually rising without any sort of resolution. What a waste of time.

L-The Lorax. This is the only Dr. Suess story that my parents really pushed on me, though Horton Hears a Who was a close second. "I am the Lorax, and I speak for the Trees!" Ah yes, the Hippie in me will live forever.

M- Musical Theatre. During my high school career, I was in Annie, Grease, The Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, Damn Yankees and a crappy Grease-rip off called Ducktails and Bobbysox. By the time I got to college, I was informed that Musical Theatre was for complete Tools, and that if they heard another song from Rent, they would dig out their ear drums with wooden spoons. One of my film professors told the class "How dumb do you have to be to a Musical Theatre major? There is ONE street where you can get any work."

N- Navajo. Jiji's mom is Navajo. Jiji's middle name is Nizhoni, which means beautiful. Durango is about 60 miles from the Navajo reservation. It is the largest Indian Reservation in the USA, and it is also the poorest. This is due in part to the refusal to build casinos on tribal land. In high school, one of our student teachers decided to start the class off by speaking to us in Navajo. I thought that something was wrong with my ears. If you really want to understand the complexity of the Navajo language, click here.

O-Orion. This was the name I was going to give to LB before she was born. This was also before she came out as a girl instead of a boy. In utero, LB was a head-down boy named Nathan Orion. In the flesh, she was a speed-demon girl who decided to go feet first down mama's birth canal three weeks early.

P-Pisces. Obviously.

Q- Quiche. Just another dish made with my most hated of food: Cheese. I can honestly say that I have never eaten quiche in my entire life.

R- Rally Cars. I like driving fast. I no longer do much of this, due to a very small person in the backseat, but I definitely had a phase were I wanted a race car. I was a pizza delivery girl for a good amount of my late teens/early twenties, and I prided myself on getting where I needed in record time. It was also at this time when "The Fast and the Furious" and "Gone in 60 Seconds" hit the big screen. I owned a Volkswagen Jetta, and managed to send it into a 180 degree turn while driving over a mountain pass. Maybe it was a good thing I never had anything faster.

S- Single Mom. Another thing I never thought would define me, and now gives me a sense of pride.

T- Techno, which led to Trance, which led to Club Music, which led to trying to DJ on my own computer. Which led to spending most of my leftover paycheck on downloading new tracks. Which will probably not lead to a lucrative career in music, but makes me happy nonetheless.

U- Unconscious. Dreams. Psychology. Hopefully I will go back to school and get my Masters in something related.

V- Vagina Dentata. OMG have you SEEN the previews for this?

W- Winter. I was born in the winter. If you compare the seasons to age, winter is the last stage, the end of one year, and the preparation of rebirth. Those who are born in the winter are supposed to have an "older" mentality. They are supposed to value introspection, theories, philosophy, analysis and deep thinking. They are supposed to have a somewhat darker look on life, but also one of peace and acceptance. Pisces is the last sign of the zodiac, so I'm supposed to be the equivalent of a 90-100 yr old (as far as my philosophies go).

X- Xander Cage. Triple X. Vin Diesel. Had a crush on him at one point. In film school we always debated on his likability being based on how ambiguous he was, as far as race and sexual orientation. All my gay friends agreed.

Y- Yo. What my basketball coach called me.

Z-Zelda. The first video game that made me throw the controller at the screen, after numerous attempts to beat it. I never did. It shall always be my nemesis.

Thursday, February 28, 2008


As the snowbanks around Durango continue to wither into slushy pools, every one's mood is likewise improving. Even my toddler has returned to her normal, bubbly self.

Today at daycare she showed me her favorite, almost completely demolished book, and told me "Dat Kis-fer Robin has hunny for Pooh and Pig-et!" Her fragmented sentences are getting longer, and I'm having trouble keeping up. She likes counting too, except she usually gets carried away at the number 4, and starts excitedly shouting, EIGHT, TEN, SEVEN, TWO, ONE!

She also has started posing. When a crowd surrounds her, she pretends to be shy for about 3 minutes, hugging my legs demurely, then I swear to god, she starts batting her eyes. Then cracks a grin. She will continue this act, until I can't handle the ridiculousness anymore and put a stop to it.

Ye Gads. I swear there is a little Leo in her :P

Another symptom of Durango Snow-Melt Syndrome is the unleashing of yard sales and weekend grill parties. As soon as grass is visible, and temp is above 50 degrees, you will start to see carboard boxes on street corners, depicting where the sales are. If you walk around your neighborhood, you will hear the communal barking of dogs, the sound of hissing burger meat, and the clinking of Ska beer bottles.

Yes, there may be snow on the La Platas until June, but by god, the people of Durango shall not be denied their yard sales and barbecues!

Gotta love how all the Marquees around town no longer display "Think Snow." I'm half expecting them to read "Think MELT" in a week or two.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Higher Education

I had dinner with my 3 best buds last night, plus Gemini Toddler Boo. Thankfully no Sombreros were involved, but I did manage to successfully jack my daughter up on fried ice cream, in true birthday celebration.

Out of my Leo Friend Circle, one has completed her BA in English Education, and has been a certified sub with the Durango School District. Now she is in the process of opening her own Scrapbooking business, completely following her heart and happily sprinting away from her former life as a teacher. Opening a business of any sort is risky, and in Durango, it takes a wily and persistent owner to attain success. JL has always faced challenge with an admirable sense of cool confidence, which I am completely in awe of.

The second Leo chugged away through college, almost non-stop, taking summer school classes and working sometimes 3 jobs at a time. She graduated with an English degree and slid easily into a high-stress, low-respect, kick-your-ass government job. Now she is chipping away at a Masters, while climbing the professional and political ladder. She also may try to squeeze a trip to Germany into her classes, which all of us have agreed is slightly crazy, but oh so impressive. Yeah, and you wonder why her lung collapsed?

The third Leo, who has always been my close companion in the eccentric, kooky, slightly-off artistic world of movies, books, video games and music, took a long break from college, after experiencing a truly horrendous first semester. She now is completing her BA in graphic design, and loving every minute of it. She has been sketching for as long as I've known her, and its truly amazing to see her talent blossom into exciting career opportunities.

As for myself, I was the solo out-of-state college girl. At 18, I was about as disillusioned as a teenager could be at the thought of higher education, but when one of the most exclusive private film schools accepted my application, I didn't have the guts to tell my mother I didn't want to go. I was tired of moving, I was tired of schooling, I was tired of getting good grades, and I didn't want any more of it. Having the backbone of a true Piscean fish, I sucked it up and headed to Boston.

Karmatee describes the world of Media image in her most recent post, and I can affirm that its all true. My friends who were Public Relation majors (I used to call them majors in the art of bullishit) told me that one of their professors had painted on eyebrows, because "self- presentation was the most important aspect of Public Relations." My friends learned absolutely nothing in that class, since they were too busy laughing hysterically in the back row at how freakish her eyebrows were.

Sadly, we were the minority in this opinion. The rest of the PR Army at my school marched around the city looking like mini-Katie Courics. I mean what 18-year-old wears pearls and power suits? I don't know about you, but I went to 7 am classes in PJs, holding Dunkin Donuts to my lips. Thus continued my quiet disillusionment of the education system.

None-the-less, I received my diploma, just .4 short of a Cum Laude, bearing the established badge of Emerson College: Batchelors of Arts in Media Studies. Over the course of 4 years, my field of study dwindled from a double major in Film and Writing, to Film with a minor in Writing, to Film, to English-Communications, to Media Studies.

My favorite classes were creative writing and media criticism, which I recieved my highest marks in. I can remember the best paper I ever wrote, arguing the homoeroticism of the movie "Fight Club." Other than that, I hated my classes, I hated my classmates, and I hated my professors at the complete lack of humanity in them. They were carefully oiling the gears of next generation of media greats, and I refused to comply. They were taking the joy out of art, out of expression, and the whole process made me ill.

Oh Woe as me! Poor Pisces! Et Tu Brute? I lived in LA for about a year and that was enough for me to realize I never wanted to go back. I didn't want to become part of the Hollywood machine. I returned home to my high school friends, and went down a different road.

But thats a completely different story.

What's your post-high school tale?

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

26 on the 26th

Thanks to KarmaTee for exposing me to this website. Which led me to this post, which led me to laughing my ass off, golden birthday style. I'm trying my luck on the lottery later.

Monday, February 25, 2008

The Golden Man/The Golden Birthday

My birthday has always been within 3-4 days of the Oscars, which when I was in high school, made me think that there was some cosmic reason why I was meant to go to film school. Um, yeah. The Oscar that popped my cherry was the 1996 show, where the English Patient won best picture, and I was completely disappointed, hoping Cuba Gooding Jr's ass cheeks might take the cake for Jerry McGuire (he DID win for Best Supporting Actor, though).

But the 1997 Oscars were the most memorable for me. Why? Well lets see, I was 15 years old, and it was the year that every teenage girl's fantasy came to life. In other words, the year of TITANIC. I mean come on, I was set up for a year of Leonardo DiCaprio-related OCD behavior. It was obscene. I drew every angle of that man's face, bought enough Maybelline lipstick so I could get the free Titanic promotional items, and yes, I saw the movie SEVEN times.

Titanic was my drug of choice. Every weekend, like a heroin addict, I debated on how to spend my time: Homework, Part Time Job, and a Social life vs. the 3 hour sickening indulgence of "I'M FLYING JACK!" and "I'LL NEVER LET GO!" Yes, as a 15 year old Pisces, there was no contest. I tapped my arm, and inserted the needle every chance I could get.

So when the Best Picture Award was handed over to my baby in the big boat, I swore the world stood still. It was like all 21 hours that had been drained from my young life that year, were suddenly validated. I knew I was in a Epic-Disaster-induced coma, and that I could not be held accountable for my actions. But I wasn't the only one! Even the snobby old men in Hollywood felt the same way I did! I wasn't just some simpering teenage DiCaprio-Freak, my interest in the film held some water (no pun intended...hehe).

Since then, no year has been comparable. Great movies have continued to be released, and honored. Once I made it to film school, my peers turned up their noses at the Oscars, telling me they were just part of the Hollywood machine, and that the REALLY great movies never were recognized. I wasn't ready to be jaded, not at 18. I went to college to enjoy myself, not doom my movie-watching ability forever. I still think the Oscars are worth a damn, even if I barely make it to the theatre more than twice a year.

This year I saw two of the best picture nominations, and neither of them won. Is it ironic that both of them could be considered chick flicks? Not even gonna go there. is 26 too early to be jaded? Hmmm. I guess I have until tomorrow to find out.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Single Mom Movies

  • Erin Brockovitch (the Godfather of single mom movies)
  • Waitress
  • North Country
  • The First Wives Club
  • Set it Off
  • The Joy Lucky Club
  • Chocolat (mmm Johnny Depp)
  • All About my mother (Christ, why haven't I seen this by now? BAD film school student)
  • Little Women (ok, not a single mother, but the dad is hardly in the story at all)
  • Beautiful
  • Mermaids
  • Where the Heart Is
  • Anywhere but Here
  • Hideous Kinky (Anything with Kate Winslet is good)
  • Finding Neverland (see above)
  • White Oleander (about the murdering type of single mother..hehe)
  • Daddy's Little Girls (a single father movie)

Thursday, February 21, 2008


Once my mother gained the prestige of a high-paying, work-from-home job after 40 years as part of the workforce, she did what every other aging feminist would do: Subscribed to all the political, intellectual, progressive, magazines she could.

Now when she reads something she thinks I would be interested in I should read, she sends the article over to me, usually accompanied by a couple of LB's socks or half-eaten cookies she left at grandma's house.

The most recent article I was privileged to read was from The Atlantic. My mother described her reaction to the peice as "horrified". She also said she was completely shocked at her reaction. The article was written by a 40-something woman who put her career first, didn't find "true love" and ended up having a child through sperm donation. The author made a case for chosing someone who may not be your "soul mate", but who may end up being a good partner, a good father, or someone who will just BE THERE for you. She says Lonliness is worse than dissatisfaction.

Hmm. Boy was I glad I read that, being a single mom and all. It was especially pleasant after coming home from watching "Atonement", probably one of the most intensely upsetting love stories to hit the silver screen.

The article had a point though. My generation is one of post-feminist idealism. We were raised to think highly of ourselves, that we deserve the utmost respect, and should never lower ourselves to meet someone else's standards. I can remember distinctly as a child, telling my mom I wanted to be a flight attendant, to which she sneered, "BE THE PILOT!"

Understandably, our mothers came from families where they witnessed banishment to the kitchen and laundry room, where a woman's goal reached no further than securing a husband and producing offspring. Of course they want their daughters to be pilots. That's why they burned their bras and fought for a woman's right to choose, right?

The article argued that while we may still be privy to this mentality, deep down inside of us, we all want to be partners with someone who loves us in the end. Living with this dichotomy is no easy task. The author says we have become too picky, striving to find the "perfect" man who is suited to our too high standards. We have thrown away the old fashion, unromantic notion of "Love has nothing to do with a successful marriage." How Victorian, UGH.

But what does it really mean to love someone? Does it have to mean sacrficing your needs for theirs? Or does it mean that no matter what your flaws, that person will be with you through thick and thin? Are we too quick to write off someone's quirks as incompatibilty? Or are the ones who make it through marriage just complacently enduring it because they'd rather be with someone than be alone?

I know this is an extremely bitter thought, (she aint frontin') but it made me think. I would rather be single than stuck in the relationship I was in before, but that doesn't mean I am too self-righteous to think that I would be happy on my own for the rest of my life. No, I want to be with someone too. Maybe I'm lucky because now I know for sure what I DON'T want, and at least learned it at a young age.

As far as my parents go, I don't understand why my mother was so shocked at the article. She has been living with a man she is almost embarrased to be with for the last 26 years. And technically they don't even live together anymore! Do they split up? No. They stay comfortably locked into each other's world. Why? Habit? Routine? Quiet Acceptance? Or is it, as stated in the article, that they would rather be married to each other, knowing that someone else out there understands them and has stuck with them this long, than be alone? I think my parents are the perfect example of this argument.

The feminists may have fought for the nobility of self-respect and true love, but they were really just posers underneath. They burned their bras and settled down to a comfortable life, complete with a washer/dryer and 2.5 kids. Why? Because no one wants to be alone.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Ask and ye shall receive

Its a whopping 34 degrees outside. Tomorrow the high is supposed to be 45-50!!! Hallelujah. Watching the snow melt this weekend was definitely the highlight of a long, coughing, runny nose-filled week. Keeping fingers crossed to ward off the Flu. Happy Prez day.

Friday, February 15, 2008

Is it spring yet?

Oh man. The snowflakes coming down from the sky are so big they resemble feathers. God its going to be fun driving home. Someone's truck took out a lamp post on main street today. YAY for winter.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Valentines Day

Well I found someone at the last minute. Lets just hope the people actually SHOW UP. HAHAHA. No longer my problem.

Tomorrow is V Day. I don't think I've ever had a very memorable Valentine's Day, even when I was with someone. I guess I know how to pick the winners, huh?

Out of my fellow BFF Bloggers, one is engaged, one is married, one is single, and then there's me...ex-engaged + daughter. Funny thing is I was engaged before either of my married/engaged friends were, and now both of them are getting married before me. Not that I mind, since I really never thought I would get married, or have a child for that matter. Coming from a family of hippies, "married" is kind of a loose term, and doesn't exactly equal happiness. Love seems to be the most important thing, though I've been unsuccesful in THAT respect as well.

I must say that both Jiji and Curmudgeon have paid their dues. Both of them have kissed a lot of frogs, and its very satisfying to see how happy they are now with their chosen mates. I think they have enough experience to know what a good man is, and are smart enough to choose to be with someone who will respect them. You go girls.

JL and I have decided to be each other's Valentine this year. Which basically means, she is coming over with Netflix and I'm getting a heart-shaped pizza from Papa Murphy's. Not exactly romantic, but at least it will please a hungry toddler, and her tired mommy. Maybe next Valentine's Day, JL and I will have the luxury of being doted on, the way our two dear friends are lucky enough to be.

Much love to all of you, and your significant others. They are definitely keepers :)

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

What it means to be an Assistant

I'm bloging from Planet Stuffy Head. Seriously, I am hearing things as if I'm chillin' at the bottom of the bathtub. Like Charlie Brown hears the grown-ups talking in those cartoon movies we used to watch. WA WA WA WAH.

Driving down from 7000 ft this morning, my head could be compared to a balloon slowly inflating. I'm sure the other drivers were staring at me, my mouth wide open, trying to yawn the corks out of my ears. It's now 9:40 am and I still feel like I'm in a tunnel.

I am also in Administrative Limbo. Having sent out 20 something emails, calls and faxes, I'm almost in panic mode at the lack of response. I need a Spanish Translator by 10:00 am tomorrow. Living in Southwest Colorado, you wouldn't think this would be such a difficult task. Yet my phone is silent, my email empty, the fax asleep.

Do I step it up and become annoying phone call girl? Do I slink into the shadows with my tail between my legs? At this point, any call I receive will be filtered through 8 layers of cotton in my ears, and responded to in muffled grunting, in between sneezes.

I was just informed by my boss that if I don't find someone to assist this very legally sensitive matter, well...there IS no other alternative, lets just say that. WORK, YOU PEON! DO YOUR JOB! Get those fingers BUSY Little Miss Secretary! Get out there and hustle SWEETIE!

I speak broken spanish at best. Yo no tengo la palabras necessitas para este situacion. AYE CARAMBA. DIOS MIO. Ayuda ME!

*Head continues to inflate*

Monday, February 11, 2008

Random Monday Thing

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is:
Duchess Hanna the Implacable of West Smeesborough
Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Friday, February 8, 2008

Better than a Trashy Romance Novel

Click the Photo to see the preview of the new season of "The Tudors". Or in other words, click to view soft core porn that is the Showtime Channel. YUM.

Sadly, I will have to wait till I can netflix it. I just started season one. Jonathan Rhys Meyers anyone? I thought he totally kicked ass as the little punk Chiron in Julie Taymor's Titus. Also, in Velvet Goldmine, you get a two for one deal with Meyers & Ewan McGreggor all glammed out.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Movie Quote of the Day

"Easy" doesn't enter into Grown-Up life.
-Michael Caine, The Weather Man, 2005

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Jeff Foxworthy

My MOTHER sent this to me, and if she can have a sense of humor about life, I guess I can buck up and laugh a little too. I know there are some people out there who can appreciate this (You know who you are). Colorado REPRESENT.

You are a Coloradoan if .............

1. You switch from "Heat" to "A/C" in one day.
2. You know what the " Peoples Republic of Boulder" means.
3. Your sense of direction is: towards the mountains and away from the mountains.
4. You're a meat-eating vegetarian.
5. The bike on your car is worth more than your car and you have your own special bike lane.
6. You're able to drive 65 miles per hour through 13 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without even flinching.
7. You take your out-of-town guests to Casa Bonita even though you would never go there otherwise.
8. You think your major food groups are granola bars, tofu and Fat Tire Beer.
9. You design your kid's Halloween costumes to fit over a snowsuit.
10 You think that sexy lingerie is wool socks and flannel PJs.
11. You know all 4 seasons "almost winter, winter, still winter and spring blizzards
12. You've been tear gassed in a riot to celebrate a CU/CSU victory.
13. You can never figure out why your out-of-town guests faint from altitude sickness on a picnic to the mountains.
14. You can drive over a 12,000-foot pass in 4 feet of snow, but can't get to work if there are 4 inches of snow.
15. You know the 'correct' pronunciation of Buena Vista .
16. When you visit friends at sea level, you can drink a case of beer and not get a buzz.
17. Your car insurance costs more than your car.
18. You have surge protectors on every outlet.
19. April showers bring May blizzards.
20. 'Timberline' is someplace you have actually been.
21. You know what a 'Chinook' is
22. You know what a ' Rocky Mountain Oyster' is.
23. You know what a "fourteener" is.
24. .But you don't know what a "turn signal" is.
25. A bear on your front porch doesn't bother you nearly as much as a Democrat in Congress does.
26. Your golf bag has a 9-iron, a 3-wood and a lightning rod.
27. People from out of state breathe 5 times as often as you do.
28. Having a Senator named Nighthorse doesn't seem strange.
29. Thunder has set off your car alarm.
30. You have an $800 stereo in your $300 truck.
31. You think a red light means 3 more cars can go.
32. Where we're going, we don't need roads!!
33. You know where the real " South Park " is.
34. You can recognize the license plates of all 50 states on sight.
35. Driving directions usually include 'Go over_________ Pass. '
36. You've 'checked for ticks.
37. You've dressed in shorts, sandals, and a parka with a hood.
38. You've gone snow skiing in July and.........
39. You've played golf in January and.......
40. They were in the same year!
41. You've urinated on the Continental Divide just so it could run into both oceans.
42. You know what a down slope and an up slope weather pattern is.
43. And the most important: You get a certain feeling of satisfaction from knowing that California and Texas are both down stream.
44. You actually understand these jokes and send them to your Colorado friends.

Friday, February 1, 2008

Guilty Pleasures

I have managed to find some sense of peace in the last few days. I think most of it has to do with the statement: "knowledge is power." I have sucked a lot of wisdom out of people this week, and it has brought me a little comfort in the process.

I also was a little indugent this week too. Ok, more like ridiculously indulgent. Here are the activities I gluttoned myself with:

  1. Hour long Bubble bath, complete with candles and kick-ass handmade products from local businesses.

  2. Flash-back to High School, while watching the oh so silly, but oh so "Remember Dawson's Creek?" MTV movie, Varsity Blues. I swear James Vanderbeek is wearing JNCOS in that movie. I am so glad to be part of the "Ginormous Jeans" Generation.

  3. Buying a 12-pack of Cherry Coke Zero, and drinking 3 cans in one day.

  4. Walking 6 blocks and forking over $14 for the Sushatarian Unan Noodle Set Lunch.

  5. Eating the classic dorm food: Totinos Pizza with Tobasco at 11:30 pm, while plotting coordinates on my Birth Chart, completely ignoring the fact I most likely would be getting up at 3 am with a feverish toddler, and outside a blizzard was raging.

  6. Succesfully saying "White Rabbit" this morning.

What guilty pleasures did you partake in this week? Did it involve dressing up in a gown or a wizard's hat? GO SNOWDOWN!