Long weekend in pictures, words

Ah, Memorial Day weekend. The phrase just brims with happiness, doesn't it?

Now, for the rundown.

On Friday night, Beau and I and four friends went to the Rockies/Cardinals game downtown. We got out of work early, so we sat at this bar for a couple of hours.

Nice view of the stadium and the back of my friend's head.

It was at this bar that we heard the saddest, dumbest douchebag pickup line of the day.
Drunken patron to waitress: How do you hide your wings under that jacket???
Gross.

We had good seats (I didn't really watch the game anyway, but it's nice to be close).

Yes, I know it's a picture of the outfield, but isn't the grass pretty?

Sitting in front of us were a couple I nicknamed the bracelet twins.
First, the woman. She put down a footlong with ALL of the fixins inside of a minute.
She's as dainty as this tattoo implies.

Her hubby, not to be outdone, was also braceleted.
Only, I'm not sure that those livestrong bracelets are supposed to be tight.

Cards won the game (we were rooting for them); fun was had by all.

On Saturday, I had The Best Burger on the Planet at the Best Burger Joint on the Planet.
Avocados, smoked cheddar, and Dijon, OH MY!

If you've never been, your life is not complete.

Then my family and I ventured down to a street fair in a beautiful old Denver neighborhood. Real estate is pricey, but the livin' is good. For everyone. :)

I'm pretty sure that compartment on the back is for treats.

When I got home that afternoon, it seemed that someone'd left the neighborhood in a hurry.

I'm sure as hell not pickin' 'em up!

While I was out and about on Saturday, Beau was out with friends. They went to The Buckhorn Exchange, where they enjoyed a meat festival of rattlesnake, buffalo testicles (I have yet to meet a woman who eats these; it's always the menfolk), and lord knows what else. He sent me this picture. You eat the meat while the head of the beast stares down at you.

Beau says that's a whale penis hanging above the bear. Everybody eat!

The rest of the weekend was full of bookstore visits (maybe a shoe store visit in the mix--can't go back there until the end of the summer), trying new recipes, and emergency doctor visits. None of which were particularly photoworthy.

Twas a good, well-rounded weekend.

Hope yours was too!

Is it just me, or...

Does the cap on Justin Beiber's new fragrance bottle look a little... um...
how shall I put this...  

LADYLIKE?

Love's special language

I told Beau that I was running across the street to Target and asked if he needed anything.

I need some cat food, he said.

Ok, wanna be a bit more specific?

Yeah, I need some dry food in the bag with the cat on it. 

Can you narrow it down a little more? Do you remember the brand? 

Nope. But the cat on the front is raising its paw. [At this point, he demonstrates the cat's pose.]

Ok, I'll see what I can find.

Scary postscript: I found the bag.

You know it's a bad relationship* when...

On his way out the door to hang out with the guys, he casually says this over his shoulder:

You're okay with the fact that it's gonna be coke and whores tonight, right? 

And he does not wait for the answer before he's gone.

*This is NOT a description of my current relationship. At all. Thankfully.

Fresh-baked evil

Yesterday was Beau's birthday. We'd already gone to see The Cars to celebrate, but I told him I'd come to his house after work and make him dinner on his actual birthday. (Luckily, he is easily pleased; spaghetti with meat sauce it is!)

I went to the store at lunch to buy what I needed for dinner. In the bakery, I couldn't resist buying this big yellow birthday cupcake. It's so cheerful. And it's a cupcake. And I can justify any cupcake purchase in a white-hot second. Duh.

At the checkout, the cashier admired the cupcake and I told her it was my beau's birthday.

Aw, that's sweet, she said. A cupcake for two.

And, in a moment of unnecessary honesty, I said Actually, he's diabetic. He can only have a bite or two. The rest is mine mine mine!

She, not knowing that Beau isn't really a cake/sweets person and he wouldn't care if he had a bite or not, stared at me, totally agape.

And she gave me a look that instantly let me know that she'd nicknamed me Cupcake Devil Girl.

Note to self: no more unnecessary honesty with strangers.

PS: Beau loved dinner, half-heartedly took two bites of cupcake, and I DID eat every bit of the rest of it! Nom! Nom! Nom!

Things I like that nobody else seems to like, Vol. 1

Marshmallow Peeps.

Neon-colored sugary goodness. Soft, but with a little granulated crunch when you bite down (which is the same thing I love about my toothpaste, but I digress).

A lot of folks see these and are immediately nauseated. And those folks are wrong, wrong, wrong.

I'm a Peeps purist. I'm not down with the Christmas-tree shaped ones or any other holiday Peeps. Easter is the only time I partake (can you year that? That's my teeth and intestines thanking me).

Yesterday, I was in Rite Aid, picking up a prescription. I saw the last of the Easter Peeps on sale. I grabbed a box and took them to the counter.

These are only 19 cents, the pharmacist told me. Looks like you really do get what you pay for!

Whatever, haters. Peeps are the shit and you know it! :)

Photo Credit: ME!!

Worst commercial on TV right now

They got robbed. But somehow, they're upset that the thieves didn't want their computer (you know, the one with all of their tax files, personal information, and wedding pictures on it).

So they go to Staples to get a new computer (onto which they transfer all of their tax files, personal information, and wedding pictures), and satisfy themselves with the notion that thieves will definitely want to steal this! 

Whuck? 

The really irritating thing about this is that an insane number marketing people and client representatives thought this was a good idea and signed off on it.

Complete bullshit.

Sad boys at Target

I made a run to Target after work last night so that I could start making something more interesting than toast for dinner.

As I wandered the grocery section looking for inspiration, I came across two young men who were, to put it delicately, high school misfits (no judgments; I was a misfit too--still am). They were reeeeally awkward.

I ran into them again when they hit the beer section, where I heard one of the saddest exchanges I've heard in awhile (all said without a trace of irony or sarcasm):

Here's the most important aisle. The boooooooze!


Oh look! They have Busch!


Yeah, that shit is coooooool!

Sad, sad, sad.

And the saddest part? When I saw them again and looked into their cart, I saw that they had opted for a four-pack of wine coolers.

Not even cool enough for Busch beer.

Bless their little hearts.

I repeat

Everyone I know is totally obsessed with vodka right now.

Two remarkable things about zombie movies

Beau and I watched Dawn of the Dead last night and we realized two things.

1. (I give Beau complete credit for this; it's genius.) People in zombie movies never know what zombies are. The movies are set in modern times, but these folks have lived a completely zombieless existence. They've never seen a zombie movie (not even Serpent and the Rainbow) or seen a zombie comic book. Folks in vampire movies know what vampires are. Folks in alien movies know what aliens are. Folks in zombie flicks are utterly ignorant about their situation.
2. Zombie survivors are an eclectic bunch. Third-grade teachers, TV repairmen, nurses, grandmothers, IT specialists, nurses, etc. Most of these professions/lifestyles are pretty low-key. And yet, put a gun in their hands for the first time and every single one of them is a crackerjack shot. They can shoot a zombie--not just through the head, but through the EYE--at 30 yards. Granted, it's a slow-moving target, but it's a moving target all the same. They never miss. Put me in that situation and I guarantee that I'll waste five bullets and score with the sixth only because the thing shambled up to within a foot of me.

Great deals on manicures

I'm not a mani/pedi person (I'm too rough on my fingernails to finance as many manicures as I'd need, and my feet are too ticklish for a pedicure).

Facebook doesn't care about that. The user-generated ads on the right side of my page advertise AMAZING mani/pedi deals all the time.

But look at the shit they want me to pay to have done to my hands.

Want to fashionably kill someone with your bare hands?

Too tired to create the half-done look yourself? Need to snag every sweater you own?

Why bother getting nail fungus when you can LOOK like you have nail fungus?

Charlie Brown, The Cars, and a truck-drivin' dog

Yep, just another silly weekend recap where you're forced to read about the stupid things that I find interesting. Of course, that's what this whole blog is about anyway. Stupid things that I find interesting.

First, I'm both happy and ashamed to admit I expanded my carbon footprint on Friday; I had central air installed in my house. I fought the urge for six years (six hot summers). But my allergies have gotten way too out of hand. Plus, I'm gettin' old. I don't like to sleep in a hot room. And I gotta do something to bring up the value of my house. Last Thursday, it was worth about $3. Now, it's worth at least TWICE that.

On Saturday, I took Mom out on our annual Mother's Day flower-buying trip. She picks out the flower baskets she wants and I buy them. On our way to the nursery, we met a very talented dog, who'd just dropped his owner off to buy hot dogs for lunch.

I'm a very good driver.

It was a rainy day, and the flowers were lovely. Mom had lots to choose from. I bought her these.

Pretty flowers for my pretty Mom.

While we were at the nursery, I came across the saddest little hanging plant I'd ever seen. Just looking at it made me think of the Charlie Brown Christmas tree (I immediately heard this when I saw it). I happily paid $5 and brought Charlie Brown home to reside in my kitchen window.  Long may he thrive.

On Sunday, I took Beau to see The Cars for his birthday. First, I bought him a huge slab of meat for dinner and then we went to the Fillmore, where, I'll admit, the purple chandeliers are my favorite thing ever.

They were my favorite thing ever, of course, until the show started. They were in GREAT shape and sounded amazing. And I forgot how happy those songs make me feel. Rick Ocasek looks and sounds exactly the same. I swear he looked right at us (though, not when I took this picture).

It was easily the best concert I've seen in years. Beau said it was in his top five of all time (and he's seen everybody--I saw KISS before they were famous!! I lost part of my hearing that night!). Really. He means it. If they come to your city on this tour, they're worth every penny.

And now, I leave you with the happiest moment of the concert. I'd forgotten how much I love this song until they started it. Hope it brightens your day as much as it brightened mine.

Friday the 13th is a VERY good day

Two pieces of happy news.

My dear friend gave birth to a healthy baby boy this morning.

And (best news OF THE YEAR).

MY DAD HAS BEATEN PROSTATE CANCER!

Happy happy joy joy!

Happy happy joy joy!

Happy happy joy joy!

I love ya, Dad!

Also spotted on First Friday

A 50-something woman (with a great ass, mind you; I give props where they're due) who decided it was appropriate to try on fishnet pants in the middle of a gallery show.

[And while there are multiple pictures of fishnet pants that I could post, I'm not gonna. A simple google image search will get the job done.]

The minute you let your guard down...

Every few years, my company has an event called the Creative Circus. It's basically a big company-wide talent show with a beer truck pulled up next to it. It's lots of fun.

The last one we had was four or five years ago on a hot summer day. We had face-painters, barbecue, a talent show, and a generous supply of beer.

And I had fun.

At the end of the afternoon, on my way home, I realized I needed to stop at the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. I looked down at myself. I was sweaty, had a big flower painted on my cheek, and I reeked of beer (which had been spilled on me all day long).

Ah, what the hell. I thought. It's the one by my house. I never know anybody in there anyway.

I walked to the back to pick up my prescription.

I looked up at the pharmacist...

And--I shit you not--he was a high school classmate [sidenote: I went to high school over 500 miles away from Denver].

I realized how awful I looked and smelled, but decided to make the best of it.

Hey, didn't you go to...

Yes, I did. Here's your prescription.

And that was the end of it. No niceties. Just embarassment.

So next time you look down at your holey sweatpants with bleach spots and think I'll just run in and out and never see anybody I know, remember this story. I went through it so you don't have to.

Weekend stats

Number of paintings Beau showed in a gallery on First Friday: 1

Number of police-brutality protests on First Friday: 1

Number of "Fabric Acrobatics" shows witnessed on First Friday: 2

Number of girls on First Friday who forgot to wear pants out of the house: 5 (that I saw; I'm sure there were hoards--whoreds?--more)

Most ridiculous thing uttered by a pretentious hipster douchebag on First Friday: Everyone I know is totally obsessed with vodka right now. 

Number of items purchased at McDonalds: 3 (One gift card for Mother's Day for you-know-who, one small order of fries, one diet soda)

Number of donuts consumed over the weekend: 2

Number of girls at the donut shop in PJ pants: 1

Number of items purchased at Dollar Tree: 13

Items for purchase at Dollar Tree that I had no desire to purchase:

Go braless the classy way!

My colon's worth more than a dollar.

Whaddaya know? You CAN bottle machismo!

Number of Highlands Ranch teens dressed like hookers at church on Mother's Day: 3 (that I saw)

Number of innocent bystanders blinded by my pasty white legs in a dress: incalculable (sorry, folks)

Number of nightmares about my iTunes playlist: 1

Number of times Grandma mentioned McDonalds on Mother's Day: 7+ (No bets were placed)

Maximum capacity of Grandma's favorite McDonalds: 100 (Grandma loves to educate)

Things I bought at Target but didn't need Vol. 2

Ten pieces of Bubble Yum. $.99.

Though it's sugarless, note that it is NOT FOR WEIGHT CONTROL.

Mother's Day

Last year, Mom got my grandma (coiner of: Grandmas don't wear fuzzy socks, so let's just forget it!) a pretty Mother's Day card full of lovely verse about a lovely mother.

She read it once.

She read it twice.

Then she turned to Mom and said This doesn't describe me at all.

And when she left that afternoon, she left the card with Mom.

Sigh. :)

Another thing I don't get

Babies with pierced ears.

First of all, I hear it's hard enough to watch your child get immunized because you can't really impart to them that it's for their own good. I can't imagine sitting through an ear-piercing (followed, of course, by screams that pierce the ears of all onlookers).

I understand parents who want you to know that the cute little boy you just cooed over is actually a little girl. That explains the highly successful baby headband bow industry.

But your ears continue to grow throughout your lifetime. Where are those holes going to be in 18 years? I have chicken pox scars that have moved well over a foot. And I had chicken pox when I was eight.

And, my opinion only, it just looks weird. Babies don't need bling. That's the one time in your life that you can be fat and bald and poop your pants in public and everyone still thinks you're adorable.

I've fallen and I can't get up

We've seen the commercials, which are totally sad and funny at the same time.

But I'll admit it. I want one of those things. Beau mocks me endlessly for it. But I live alone and I like living alone. AND I'm insanely clumsy with a turning staircase in my house. You do the math.

As it is now, I'm not too worried about it. I have a job where my absence would be noticed (I'd hope) rather quickly. My folks live in the neighborhood. And Beau calls/texts me at least five times a day.

I don't want to end up like the 50' Woman, who was found mummified in her house after being dead for a year. And she was famous once upon a time. I also don't want my pets to be forced to eat me. :)

Nope, I'm not takin' any chances down the line. Sign me up, LifeAlert!!

Stalkers will not be rewarded

On Friday afternoon, after a trip to the gym (to counteract the four hours we sat on our asses watching the royal wedding, eating egg-and-cheese casserole, and drinking mimosas), Mom and I walked through Macy's (looking and feeling very regal in our post-workout attire).

My purse (although fabulous and yellow) was falling apart, so I looked around for a new one. There were two saleswomen in the department.

The first one came up and said hi and told us about the Friends and Family Sale, which gave us an extra 25% off.

Does that mean you think of us as friends and/or family? I asked.

Yes, she replied dryly, smiled, and then went back to the cash register to let us look around.

Enter Saleswoman #2. She followed us around. Everywhere. Commenting on everything I picked up or said. Not letting us talk or move around freely.

And, when I walked to the far end of the department, she screeched DON'T LEAVE! I WORK ON COMMISSION! 

(Full disclosure: I know it sucks to work on commission.)

Guess who got the commission?

If you guessed Saleswoman #2, you're new to this blog.

Stalking and pushing is NEVER the way to sell something. I will not reward it.

Plus, every time we saw Saleswoman #1 in the store afterward, she said Look, it's my friends and/or family!

THAT, my friends, is how you sell a purse.

Confidential to you-know-who

If I've known you for the majority of your life (three decades) and you check this site you don't actually call or write to me...

CALL OR WRITE!

You know who you are. :)

One of those things he'd probably prefer I didn't share

I have two cats.

A white one named Daisy.

Supermodels don't need to look at the camera, yo.

And a tabby named Lola. 

Look into my eyes. You are getting veeeeery sleepy.

Beau also has two cats.

A white one named Hazy. 

Butterflies fear me.

And a tabby named Loca. 

You have failed to amuse me, human.

That's right. Our cats' names rhyme. We are That Couple. He claims it's an accident. In one case, maybe. Lighting doesn't strike the same place twice, though. :)