Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Honeymoon Hosers

"I never thought we would have to compare two Mexican booze cruise Queen lip syncing acts; and yet here we are."

That's not necessarily the quote that defines our 10 year wedding anniversary vacation, but that's the one I remember; and let's face it: it's probably the one that piques the most interest. 

I'll back up a little. Just over a week ago, my husband and I spent a glorious week in Puerto Vallarta, the same city we spent our honeymoon, 10 years ago. A second honeymoon. Adorable, huh? Yeah, we know. 

The trip didn't start out adorable, though. Well more accurately, I didn't start off adorable. Our flight left at 7:55am out of DIA, which meant we had to be there at 5:55 am. The airport is a little under 2 hours away from where we live, which meant that we had to leave at 3:55 am, which meant I had to wake up at fuckoff:55 am. Yeah, not adorable. Not even vaguely cute.

But, we arrived at our south of the border location with relative ease. At least I'm assuming we did; I got "travel numb" off rum and ginger ales on the plane. Trip faced, if you will. Or if you won't. Luckily, my darling husband doesn't drink, so he got us to our hotel despite the extra drunken baggage. If our trip had a subtitle, it would have been "Whiskey, Fully Loaded." It's probably a good thing our trip didn't have a subtitle, because that was pretty lame.

When we arrived at our resort, they had a lovely anniversary suite set up for us, complete with rose petals, champagne and a freshly drawn bubble bath. I immediately grabbed the bottle of champagne, kicked off my flip flops and sat at the edge of the tub, feet immersed in bubbles, chugging that whole damn delicious bottle of cheap champagne. I am one classy lassie. Eventually, I realized how silly I looked. I changed into my bathing suit and got back in the tub; like a drunken sorority girl.

Troy made me some coffee, sobered me up (ish) and took me to dinner where I had the best table side guacamole I've ever had. I told the waiter as much. Loudly. My charm has no bounds.


(There's that drunken smile that Troy fell in love with all those years ago. photo by confused waiter)


The next day we spent lounging by the ocean. I layered myself with enough sunblock to protect a flock of Scandinavian school children and proceeded to do something I haven't been able to do in years: I relaxed. That didn't last long, however, as after about 20 minutes, I decided that I needed to check my email. I managed to get very worked up over the spotty wifi. Yep, you read that right. I was about 20 feet from the ocean and I was annoyed by the weak wifi signal. I'm the ugliest of Americans.

Speaking of ugly, pale Americans; the next day we set out for a walking and tasting tour of the city. If you've never been to Puerto Vallarta, you should experience it. I feel as though it's one of the most European-esque cities in Mexico. The buildings are older, there are charming cobblestone streets (although I'm sure daily drivers don't find the cobblestone charming) and there is a noticeable lack of "Wooo, spring break!" type bars. There are a few, but not as many as Cancun or Cabo.

We met up with Enrique, our guide for the walking and food tasting tour. First stop; carnitas! We enjoyed some spectacular carnitas tacos from a little hole in the wall carnitas shop. They were divine. We also had some horchata. AND we impressed our guide by knowing what horchata was. We felt smug. Ugh. Smug pasty white people are the WORST. Anyway, we had an amazing tour of the city and the food that it has to offer. At the last stop, we had THE BEST CEVICHE ON THE PLANET. I am not exaggerating. If you are ever in Puerto Vallarta, do yourself a favor and go to Mariscos Cisneros.
*Side note: when I typed "THE BEST CEVICHE ON THE PLANET," my non-Spanish speaking computer suggested the word "crevice," which made me giggle. How odd and inappropriate would it be for me to type "THE BEST CREVICE ON THE PLANET" in all caps? Oh, I guess I just did. Heh.

On Tuesday, we lounged by the pool and I got buzzed off of cervezas....well as buzzed as a girl from Colorado can get drinking Corona Lights at sea level; which is to say, not very buzzed. As I have declared before, I'm a fucking Olympian when it comes to drinking at sea level. Just don't let me chug an entire bottle of cheap champagne in the bath tub....

(Poolside Envy. photo by Troy Staat)

Wednesday, we went to an isolated private beach reserve called Las Caletas. It used to be director John Huston's private beach. It's now owned and leased by Vallarta Adventures, a tour group that provides an excursion on the island. This is where I got to hold a squirrel monkey. Yep. I held a squirrel monkey. And a parrot. And a hawk. But, did I mention the squirrel monkey?

(Squirrel Monkey Envy. photo by Troy Staat)

During this trip, we also learned that it's not just Americans that are loud and obnoxious (although we do seem to be holding down that number one spot pretty securely).  We managed to encounter the mythical loud and obnoxious Canadian. I know. Canadians are nice, gentle, respectful people. Americans pretend to be Canadians when traveling abroad to avoid the Ugly American connotation. Canadians are not loud and obnoxious. Usually.

We met the only loud and obnoxious Canadian. He managed a Home Depot garden center in Vancouver. His vacation was rerouted from hurricane-struck Cabo to Puerto Vallarta. He saw a newspaper picture of Robin Thicke waiting in line at the Cabo airport. He went scuba diving the day before. His wife stayed behind at the hotel (wonder why?). He planned on coming back next year.

"Oh, you must have had a lengthy conversation with him," you are undoubtedly assuming to yourself. Nope. We never spoke to this man. All of this information was provided to us, whether we liked it or not, via his incredibly loud, one-sided conversation that he was having with a poor helpless tour guide...from about 40 ft away. Surprisingly, the only thing we didn't know about him was his name. We decided to call him Scuba Hoser.

The next evening, we went back to Las Caletas for the Rhythms Of The Night show- a sort of hokey, wannabe Cirque de Soleil production...with mosquitos. The show wasn't anything spectacular or worth mentioning. What is worth mentioning is this: on the boat ride back to our hotel, we witnessed the second (and lesser quality) of an odd, confusing entertainment "skit" put on by the boat's crew. And it was the second (and lesser quality) lip-syncing Queen extravaganza of our trip. The first time we saw this was on the day-time boat ride to Las Caletas the day before. When I first saw it, I thought, "OK this is weird, but it looks like the crew worked hard on coming up with this entertainment, so I'll just sip my margarita and watch what unfolds." It reminded me of a child's impromptu performance when he/she wants attention and praise from adults. What unfolded was a confusing (and slightly homophobic) lip-syncing drag-ish performance to Queen's greatest hits, complete with front man who channeled John Leguizamo more than Freddie Mercury.

So, imagine our befuddlement when we saw a second and almost identical, but slightly inferior, production of the same thing on the boat ride that evening. Turns out what I thought was just a lost in translation, cutesy form of entertainment put on by that particular crew, was in fact a company-wide, deliberately written and rehearsed script. Which brought me to turn to Troy and utter the following: "I never thought we would have to compare two Mexican booze cruise Queen lip syncing acts; and yet here we are." Don't get me wrong, I love Queen. Freddie Mercury is an idol and a rock god. What they did to Freddie's good name was inexcusable.


We spent the remaining days of our vacation relaxing at the resort or wandering the city; and I did what I do best- I drank tropical drinks and I shopped. Usually at the same time.

(Still standing after day drinking. Where's my medal? photo by Troy Staat)

Scuba Hoser, shitty Queen tributes, mosquitos and all; our second honeymoon was nothing short of perfect. Nothing can test a marriage more than traveling together and we did it splendidly. Marriages are partnerships and friendships; after 10 years, I think we've mastered both. I don't think you can eloquently and effectively put into words an ideal marriage; it is lived and experienced. It's perfectly equal; no winners or losers, just two individuals who have figured out how to love each other, help each other, depend on each other, fight with each other, forgive each other and support each other.

No, a perfect marriage can't be put into words...But, I totally just put it into words- on the Internet- so I win! In your face, Husband! *Chants "I'm number 1! I'm number 1!" in true ugly American style.*


Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Writer's Block and Roll.....oh, forget it.

It has come to my attention that I really should be maintaining this blog. My posts have been sporadic at best. But, in my defense, I've been really busy. There's been a lot of Buzzfeed quizzes that demand my participation (What Kind Of Dog Are You? Turns out, I'm a dachshund. Who knew?), a lot of great TV (Orphan Black took up pretty much ALL of my June) and I've been trying this "clean eating" thing (aka "cooking Amish"). So, you know. Busy.

But I'll set aside a few minutes of my whirling schedule to update the old blog.

*Blink, blink*

Oh, well- this is embarrassing- it appears that I don't have any idea of what to write about. Oh, right! THAT'S the reason I haven't been updating lately. I have writers block. 

Writer's block is TOO a real thing! 

Oops. There I go getting defensive over imaginary accusations from imaginary blog readers. Lets take it down a notch: writer's block is a real problem for writers and pretend writers like myself. It can last a few days to a few years. So, a few months of me not posting a blog is really NOT that big of a deal. Sorry, sorry. I'll tone down the defense.

Well, you say; "Name one writer that suffered from chronic writers block."

I can give you two: F. Scott Fitzgerald and Charles M. Schultz. And probably a few others who don't have initials in there names, but those were the first two mentioned in the wikipedia article I read.  Er- I mean those were the most prominent names that appeared in my tireless hours of research...

Um, so back to it. 

Writer's block may have a scientific cause: according to my extensive research (read: Wikipedia), when the brain is under stress, it shifts from the cerebral cortex (creative part) to the limbic system (reptile brain) and triggers the common "flight or fight" response. So, the way I understand it: your brain is stressed and feels like it needs to be ready for anything, it puts your creative thought process on the back burner so that you can fight wolverines if need be. 

That's one idea, anyway. 

Cures for writer's block? Well... you're looking at it. From what I can glean from my exhaustive research (again, thank you wikipedia) is that most writers and educators feel that just writing ANYTHING (free association, journals, list-making, etc.) will help shake off the shackles of writer's block. And, if you keep at it, you might not be reduced to using such cliches as "shake off the shackles of writer's block."

So there it is; my attempt to fight my way back into the literary circle. And back into your hearts.






Thursday, August 22, 2013

A Sandwich by Any Other Name...

I know that I hyped a new blog on facebook, almost a week ago…but as I like to say, the road to new blog posts is paved with good intentions. OK, I don’t really like to say that. No one does.

Basically, if you were paying attention on the FB, I tried to generate interest in my blog posts by holding a call to action for blog ideas. And I got a whopping 6 responses (give or take)…2 of them (give or take) were from actual readers!

The suggestions that I did receive were really quite good. Some of the ideas included: shameless selfies, kitties & puppies, coffee, movie bombs, Manitou, and sandwiches.

Here’s a breakdown of why/how I decided on my blog topic as I did:

Shameless selfies- Um, well…there’s already enough coverage of Anthony Weiner’s shameless selfie of his junk (and lack of actual junk coverage). I’ll leave that one to Fox and MSNBC to duke out.

Kitties and puppies- The avid readers of my blog- both of you- will note that I have dedicated a great deal of posts to kitties and puppies. Ad nauseum. I’m going to give my readers (both of them) a break from all that.

Coffee- Suggested by my husband. I felt it would be a bit of the old nepotism to use this idea.

Movie Bombs- Also suggested by my husband. Seriously, doesn't anyone screen these calls?

Manitou- This is a great topic and it was suggested right after the gorgeous city at the base of Pikes Peak suffered from devastating flooding (the town has since seen a community pull together in a beautiful show of support). My thought is this: There are wonderfully talented journalists in this area who have beautifully covered the horrible flooding and the consequent outpouring of help that occurred in the city; I could never do that story justice. Besides, haven’t the people of Manitou suffered enough? They don’t need to be highlighted in my crappy blog.

Which leaves me with sandwiches, or rather the suggestion from Anthony Graham: “Why sandwiches are the most perfect food.”

Well, congratulations Ant,  I am going to write about sandwiches! (Ant, by the way is a super talented photog. Check out his website: http://brokenglassphoto.smugmug.com/)

Except, I don’t know that I fully support the thesis of sandwiches being the most perfect food; I believe that tacos are the most perfect food (or close to it), but they are not sandwiches (a fact that will be backed up later). I do, however, think that sandwiches are pretty great. Pretty great, indeed.

So, let’s talk sandwiches (aka sammies around my house).

I’m sure you have all heard that the sandwich was invented by a dude named the Earl of Sandwich. Actually, his name was John Montagu, 4th Earl of Sandwich, a British statesman. And actually, he didn't really invent it. I mean, come on. Do you really think humans would wait until the 18th century to enjoy a sandwich? Sure, homeboy gave the thing a name, but people had been enjoying stuff between bread for a long time before that.

The sandwich, although not called that at the time, goes way back. The Jewish sage, Hillel the Elder (I don’t have a date on this, but if someone’s name is followed by “the Elder,” then you know that this shit is old as dirt) is rumored to have wrapped lamb meat and some herbs between two pieces of matzah. Mozel Tov! There’s also evidence of sandwiches, or sandwich like creations being used in Medieval Europe. Initially, sammies were considered the food of the poor; often being used with bread that was thrown out by the richies and also often associated with gamblers and drinkers who needed a hand free for their vice of choice. However, just like everything else great, the sandwich made it’s way from the streets to the bourgeoisie.

In comes the Earl of Sandwich.

It has been said that he enjoyed playing cribbage and would often ask his valet to bring him some meat between bread. His fellow card players would in turn ask for “the same as Sandwich.” Supposedly, this is how the word made its way into the vernacular. However, there is a less exciting version of the etymology: it seems that the Earl was a bit of a Renaissance man and had involvements in the navy, politics and the arts. He was a busy man and most likely consumed his sammies soberly at his writing desk, not drunkenly at the cribbage table. Pick whichever version fits your fancy. I usually root for the drunkard.

So, what constitutes a sandwich? There is actually a court ruling on the matter. A sandwich must include “at least two slices of bread.” This excludes tacos, burritos, egg rolls, Hot Pockets, falafel, etc. And why was there a court ruling on this? You are wise to ask. Here’s the deal- turns out a sandwich restaurant in Boston wanted to prevent a burrito stand from opening in the same shopping center as part of a non-compete clause. However, a Massachusetts court ruled that a burrito is not a sandwich and a sandwich is defined by having two slices of bread. Thus, the burrito joint was able to open in the same center as it did not break any non-compete laws. Ole!

There you have it. A burrito is not a sandwich. However, a torta (Mexican sandwich) is; so is a hoagie, sub, grinder, French dip, po’ boy, sloppy Joe, muffuletta, Reuben, and my favorite- a banh mi. Apparently, a hamburger is also considered a sandwich; but if I’m eating lunch with you and you order a “hamburger sandwich,” I will promptly leave the table. Only cult members and people from the 1930’s order a “hamburger sandwich,” Weirdo.

Want to find out about more sammies from around the world? Check out this great Buzzfeed list, guaranteed to make you want to go on an Around the World in 29 Sandwiches tour. http://www.buzzfeed.com/alexnaidus/around-the-world-in-sandwiches

Hope you enjoyed this. Now, let's all have sammies!




Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Country Grammar and Other Pet Peeves

I want you to think far back to a time before Facebook and twitter, and- hell- even the Internet. Think back to the time that you could have a long conversation with a good friend and have no idea that they were illiterate.

Yes, illiterate. Well, "illiterate" might be a harsh word. Maybe, "lazy" is more appropriate? 

I'll explain. Unless yours was the type of friendship in which you wrote each other lengthy letters back and forth, you probably had no idea that your friend did not know the difference between "apart" and "a part," or that he/she thinks the abbreviation is "ect." instead of "etc."

Then came Facebook and everyone's grammatical short-comings became abundantly clear. I remember cringing the first time I saw a dear friend post a status update using the word "hear" when she clearly meant "here." "That must be a typo," I thought to myself. But the "typos" continued; and they spread like a verbal plague amid the updates in my news feed.

I need to make it clear that I am no grammar saint myself. I have committed countless sins: splitting infinitives, incorrect subject/verb agreement, my spelling is atroshus, oh and run-on sentences that never seem to end; as well as my liberal use of commas, semicolons; parentheses....and ellipses. (See what I did there?...please tell me you see what I did there.) My point: I am not a Grammar Goddess (or Grammar Nazi as some of my friends would suggest). I'm not even close. Short of dotting my "i's" with hearts, I pretty much have the writing skills of a junior high school girl.

 BUT....

I know the damn difference between "your," "you're," "there," "their," "they're," "to," "two," "too," "where," "wear," "ware," etc. Or should I say "ect." because that does seem to be the most popular way to type that abbreviation, according to Facebook. Grrrr. It's an abbreviation of the word "et cetera," not "ec cetera!" Need help remembering the correct abbreviation? Think ET cetera, "E.T." cetera. As in ET phones home, etc.

Whew, where was I? Oh, yes- straying FAR off topic.

You'd never guess, but this blog post isn't going to be about grammar. Well, not really. The post is about pet peeves. My pet peeves. Yes, poor grammar is one of my pet peeves. But I have so many others. So, so many. And I am going to share them with you today. Because, that's what I do as a self-absorbed blogger; which is to say, blogger.

In addition to shitty grammar, my pet peeves are as follows:

1) Dreams. More specifically, hearing about your dream. I don't know how to put this delicately, so I won't: I don't fucking care about the dream you had last night. Unless, I'm in it; and even then, I will check out until you get to the part about me.
I'm pretty sure I'm not the only person who feels this way. The next time you are going to share a dream you had, just remember that the person to whom you are describing your dream is most likely not listening to you. I can promise you that I am not.

2) Watching someone play video games. This one was much more applicable during my college days, but my angst still lingers. I mean, seriously, you invite me over so that I can watch you and your loser roommate play Mortal Combat? "Finish him?" Finish this. *cue my much perkier 20 year old ass walking out the door.

3) Racists who assume that I am also racist. Yeah, I realize that with my fair skin and platinum hair, I probably look like a jackass Aryan's wet dream, but be assured that I DO NOT share those views. I can't tell you how many racist jokes I've heard- no, not just heard- but someone has purposely sought me out to tell me those jokes, just because of my complexion. Hey, slow your roll Mel Gibson; you are talking to the wrong white girl. I do however, love the opportunity that follows, in which I get to tell the racist joker, that I do not find that type of joke funny in the slightest. I also love the part when I call the person a racist piece of shit. I also, really love the part where I tell every girl in the bar what a racist piece of shit that person is and they shouldn't fuck him even with someone else's vagina. Damn, I really hate racists.

4) Jam Bands. I used to refer to jam bands as ear rape, but I've since softened my stance. I think that jam bands are like ear date rape. They start out rather innocuous, but 20 minutes later, you realized that you've been slipped a musical mickey. Jam bands are self-indulgent assholes dressed as hippie nice guys. Do not drink their kool-aid.

5) Number lock. Number lock is bullshit. 

6) The word "realness." As in a selfie of yourself on Instagram that says "glitter eye-liner realness." Using the word "realness" to describe your appearance or your location is actually poor grammar "realness."

7) The word "moist." It's gross. I avoid using it, unless absolutely necessary.

8) The word "lover." Ew. Just ew. I quote Liz Lemmon: "The word 'lover' bums me out, unless it's between the words 'meat' and 'pizza."

9) Anthropomorphic food. You know, like the dancing hot dogs and sodas in the "Let's all go to the lobby" movie song. And don't get me started on Veggie Tales. That combines anthropomorphism and evangelicalism. That is something I'm just not ok with.

10) Passive aggression and guilt trips. Hey, by the way. I just happened to notice that voting starts today for the Indy's Best Of edition. Oh, and looky here- they have a best local blogger category. Did I mention that the name of this blog is "Bottoms Up! With Whiskey Darling." Or, even the name Whiskey Darling, should suffice. But you guys probably don't even like me. You're just reading this blog to be nice. I mean, it's not a big deal to me or anything; it's just that I got second place last year and I'd really love to at least hold on to that title. It would be a shame for me to have to tell my parents that I'm no longer Colorado Springs' second favorite local blogger....especially after my mom knitted me that "Springs' Second Favorite Blogger" scarf. I mean, do whatever. It's cool. I'll just go update my Facebook status to "no longer Colorado Springs' second favorite local blogger."

Of course, if you are so inclined, you can vote here: Colorado Springs Independent Best of Voting

Seriously, thank you all for voting for me last year and I am beyond flattered that I earned that title.

Oh, but before you go, here's some cute squirrel "realness" as a thank you for your time:)

 (photo credit: Troy Staat troutimagery.com)







  



Monday, April 8, 2013

My Day In Court (aka Call of Duty 2013)

The following is a "live blog" account of my jury duty experience today. I had an ipad, wifi, and a ton of time. You are welcome.


So, it has come to this. I tried everything to not be here. And by everything, I mean wishing really hard that I wouldn't have to be here. And by "here," I mean the juror waiting room of the El Paso County Courthouse.

Luckily for me and unluckily for you, they have wifi. So I can take this opportunity to rant....I mean blog.

First let me start off with the parking situation. It is stupid. There are about 400 people called into jury duty service and about 50 juror parking spots. Grrrrr.

I had to remove my belt at security. Grrrr.

Dude sitting next to me reeks of stale cigarettes and old fast food. Grrrr.

I'm thirsty. I'd buy a bottle of water, but I used all my change to pay for parking.

9:15AM
Now we are watching a video. We are supposed to pay attention, so I will.

Done with video. They made a point to tell us that the people in the video were not paid actors. They didn't have to tell us that. It was obvious.

9:47AM
Now we are watching a movie as we wait. It is National Treasure with Nicholas Cage. I thought the goal of jury service was to prevent an undue hardship.

The smell coming from the guy next to me is getting worse. I'm am nauseated. I've tried to switch seats but am having a hard time not being obvious about it. Hey, I'm a bitch internally, but I don't like to be one outwardly.

Anyway, while I wait, I will go over some of the ideas I had as ways to get dismissed:

1. Bring in my cat Maeby and ask where the child-care center is.

2. Solicit fellow jurors to form a flash mob.

3. Quote lines from National Treasure. Along with the the movie as it is playing.

4. Answer every question with "You can't handle the truth!"

5. Explain that my membership in the KISS Army will conflict with my juror service as I am required to rock and roll all night and party every day.

6. Two words: impromptu burlesque

7. Show up covered in cat hair....oh wait, I did that already.

8. Tell them that I'd love to serve, but I have to meet the Doc at the clock tower so I can make it back to 1985.

9. End every sentence with "meow."

10. Giggle uncontrollably every time someone says the word "duty."

Well. That took up some time.


I have now filled out a second questionnaire, which pretty much means that I will be called to jury selection. This is lame.

Very lame.

I'm gonna power down my iPad for the moment and await further instructions. Also, I think Smelly Dude next to me keeps looking at my screen. Back off, smelly.

11:08AM
I'm still here, but the good news is that Dude was called to a jury. Smell ya' later.

My meter expires in 45 minutes. I will not be reimbursed for a ticket as I didn't park in the overflow lot. Because I'm an idiot. And also because I didn't know there was an overflow lot. I guess I can't blame the system for my stupidity and lack of knowledge on overflow lots. There was probably a sign somewhere. I didn't read it. I don't have time for signs. I also don't like to pay close attention to things or examine them thoroughly. This should serve as a great reason for them to dismiss me from the jury.

They assured me I would be able to move my car before noon. I'm beginning to suspect that the judicial system does not move as promptly and efficiently as I had hoped.

11:14AM
Everyone who has not been assigned to a jury gets to leave. They leave smugly. I hate them.  Now it's just me, Nicholas Cage and some other assholes unlucky enough to still be here. I'm probably going to get a parking ticket.

Grrrr.

11:20
I'm hungry

11.28AM
I just remembered that I brought some sugar-free homemade flax cookies. They are...not good, at best. I has just occurred to me that I could easily get dismissed by offering to share my sugar free homemade flax cookies.....

Ugh. My civic duty is boring. And potentially expensive if I don't get to that parking meter soon.

11:58AM
Good news: I am home.

Bad news: I have to go back to the courthouse for jury selection at 1:30PM.

Even worse news: I got a parking ticket; even though I still had plenty of time on the meter. Yes, plenty of time on THE meter, but not MY meter. Yep. I put money in the wrong meter. THE WRONG FUCKING METER. I put $3 in the meter and got a $20 ticket from the City of Colorado Springs. Worst slot machine ever. But, there is no one to blame for this but myself. And I am fully aware of that. Still, it sucks.

I would like to point out that if this parking meter idiocy doesn't prove that I am unfit to serve on a jury, then I don't know what does.

I would also like to point out that there is a religious group assembled outside the courthouse asking people if they prayed while in court.

Here's my issue with this:

Aside from the obvious: street prosthelyzation is fucking annoying;  I'm also irritated at the fact that these people are willingly at the courthouse on a Monday afternoon. Some of us had to arrange to take the time off work and then complain relentlessly on Facebook about it. But these zealots are here willingly. Willingly! Also, I'm jealous about how open their schedules must be. I know I don't have the time to stand in front of a courthouse and bother people. Well, not when I'm sober anyway.

So my question is this: is this condoned by the city? If so, that is beyond- for lack of a better word- fucked.

1:15PM
It would appear that this is not condoned by the city as the Courthouse Jesus Gang has been apparently asked to leave.

Well, OK.

1:30pm
I'm now taken to a smaller room of the courthouse in which I get to hangout with my "peers." My "peers" apparently consist of a bunch of ladies in their mid-fifties, a sorority girl, and a cranky old dude.

2:20pm
I am called to the witness booth.

2:32pm
I am dismissed.

2:45pm
I went to work and finished out the day. Yeah, you hear that Courthouse Jesus Gang? I have shit to do. That's how we do up in the non-prosthelyzation hood.


I do want to note that, despite all of my joking about trying to get out of jury duty, I treated the experience with honesty and integrity. While I will not reveal the subject matter of the case, I did feel that it would be impossible for me to be impartial and objective given the questions I was asked. And this was not a ploy to shirk my responsibilities. This was an honest and conscientious response.

You wouldn't know it by the way I described my day, but I do think that jury duty is a great responsibility. An irritating, time-consuming, sometimes nauseating responsibility, but a responsibility nonetheless.

When I first got my summons, I posted it on facebook. Because I'm super mature. A weird, random lady criticized me for not being excited about my "precious gift." I can only assume that she meant jury duty as my virginity was re-gifted long ago.

Jury duty a "precious gift?" No. A kitten is a "precious gift." Apparently some sort of ring in Middle Earth is a "precious gift." Jury duty is an obligation. One that you should take seriously and fastidiously, but by no means one that you are required to be joyous about.

Oh- and I unfriended that wacko on facebook. No one posts the words "precious gift" on my wall. No one.







Monday, November 5, 2012

Vote. Seriously. Vote.

Ah yes, we've come to the point where I use my privilege as part of the "liberal media" to encourage you to vote.

Vote.

Do it.

If you don't vote, you are an idiot.

Sexy people vote.

People who don't vote tend to have weird scabs and smell funny.

Don't think your vote counts? Due to a matter beyond my control, I didn't vote once. It was during the 2000 election. I think we all know how that turned out. *shudder*

So I say to you once again: Vote.

Did I motherf*cking stutter?

Vote.

OK, I think I got my point across; so, onto the blog. I'm not going to tell you how I'm voting...
but O I'm sure B you can A read between M the lines A :)

What I am going to do is present you with some interesting election themed facts, to get you excited for voting on Nov. 6th. Yay!


  • So, why is Election Day always the Tuesday on or after Nov. 2? Well, November was chosen because it's after the harvest. Tuesday was chosen because old-timey people usually had to travel a whole day to go vote and most people couldn't travel on Sunday's because of religious reasons. And it couldn't be on Tuesday Nov. 1 because that's All Saints Day.
  • The presidents who won the most states? 1).Richard Nixon. Yep, Tricky Dick carried 49 states, all but Massachusetts. And 2). Ronald Reagan- he won all but Minnesota. Ya betcha.
  • Ok, what's the deal with the Donkey and the Elephant? Well, not much really. These symbols were both created by 1800's cartoonist Thomas Nash for Harper's Bazaar. That's really about all I could find...without reading, like, a WHOLE wikipedia article. Pshht.
  • "But more importantly," you ask "which president had a pet alligator?" That would be John Quincy Adams and Herbert Hoover. Other weird presidential pets include: Thomas Jefferson's two bear cubs, Teddy Roosevelt's badger, William Henry and Benjamin Harrison's goats and Martin Van Buren's 2 two tiger cubs.
  • James Garfield could write in Latin with one hand and Ancient Greek with the other. George W. Bush could barely read/write/speak English.
  • A presidential candidate must earn at least 270 electoral votes, otherwise the president is decided by the House of Representatives.
  • The 2008 election was the only election in which 2 sitting senators were running against each other. It was also the only election in which BOTH candidates were born outside of the continuous United States- Barack Obama was born in Hawaii and John McCain was born on a US naval base in the Panama Canal Zone. Take that, Birthers.
  • Some interesting presidential nicknames that could double as porn titles- James Monroe: "The Last Cocked Hat," John Quincy Adams: "Old Man Eloquent," Zachary Taylor: "Old Rough and Ready," James Buchanan: "Old Buck," Calvin Coolidge: "Silent Cal," and Harry S. Truman: "Give 'Em Hell, Harry."  Old-timey people were pervs.
  • The tallest prez was Lincoln at 6'4", the shortest was Madison at 5'4". Daniel Day Lewis is playing Lincoln in the upcoming biopic...no word on if Tom Cruise has accepted the role of Madison yet.
  • Jimmy Carter was the first president born in a hospital. Wait, what? Really? Where/how were the previous presidents born? Weird.
  • Speaking of Carter, he was the 6th cousin of Richard Nixon. Also weird.
  • Gerald Ford- yes that Gerald Ford- was a fashion model in the 1940's. He even graced the cover of Cosmopolitan. And, a little known fact- he was the first to do the infamous Burt Reynold's pose. OK, that part's not true...just seeing if you are paying attention.
  • Warren G. Harding once gambled and lost all the white house china in one hand of cards...I guarantee you that a woman president wouldn't pull that kind of crap.
  • Speaking of women, the 19th Amendment (women's right to vote) was signed into law on August 26, 1920. Some countries that had women's suffrage before the US: Tasmania, Norway, Sweden, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Lithuania, Rhodesia, Estonia and Latvia...to name a few. Yeah, motherf*cking Latvia gave women the right to vote before the US.
  • The 15th Amendment gave the right to vote to African Americans in 1870, but it wasn't until 1965 that congress passed the Voting Right Act, which outlawed discriminatory voting practices. It was about damn time.
People have fought long and hard to secure the right to vote. I think you owe it to them to get down to the polls and perform your civic duty. I'm so serious about this that I'm not even going to make a childish joke about my use of the word "duty."

I'd like to end with a quote from FranklinD. Roosevelt: "Nobody will ever deprive the American people of the right to vote except the American people themselves and the only way they could do this is by not voting."







Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Don't Call it a Comeback

No really, don't call it a comeback.

I don't deserve a comeback. I've been a bad, bad blogger. One of the worst. I'm lazy, distracted- and all-around- completely unmotivated. I do not deserve your readership....

And yet, you all voted me 2nd Best Blogger in the CS Indy. I've won second place for doing absolutely nothing! For the second year in a row! Yes! The system works!

Now, before you look into allegations of voter fraud (as well you should), please keep in mind that I did absolutely zero pandering this time around (please refer to the aforementioned "lazy" adjective). That being said, I have no idea how this happened; but I'll take it! And thank you.

So what now? Well, I'm going to post a blog (my first since May...remember: Lazy) before the Blogger Commission strips me of my two consecutive titles for allegations of doping...in this case "doping" means being a dope and having a blog.

Where to begin? Well, let's try to figure out how the hell I won this title this year. As I think I've made perfectly clear, I don't deserve this. The first place award went to a lady who blogs about coupons...well, I'm not even going to touch that. In this economy, you can't win against a coupon lady. You just can't. The only thing more popular than a coupon lady is a sneezing LOL kitten...and if they learn to blog, we are all screwed.

The third place award went to my friend Damian Burford for his blog Mostly Harmless Podcast (check it out at: http://mostlyharmlesspodcast.com/). Did you look at it? Yeah, it's awesome! Way better than this lame piece of self-indulgent tripe that I write. I mean, he interviews bands and has a slick website. Did you see that he interviewed the Toadies? Yeah, the Toadies. What do I do? I drone on and on about shoes, jewelry, random trivia, my cat and my burlescapes. Pretty lame, Milhouse. I can say that without a doubt, Damian should have taken 2nd place and I should have received a dope slap.

So, let's figure out how this lazy, no-getter won 2nd place. I racked my brain and figured out that it comes down to one thing: I take my clothes off in public. Yep. That's the edge that I have. As I see it, not a lot of people read blogs; so when the ballots came out, I think a lot of people were like: "hey doesn't that drunken hot-mess blonde burlesque dancer have a blog? Man is she a trainwreck. Well, I'll put her name down until I think of someone else...Now, who has the best pizza in town?"

Other reasons I will accept for winning 2nd: 1) voter fraud, 2) simultaneous collective amnesia 2) and the existence of Bizarro World.

OK, so we've got the "winning" scandal out of the way. Now, let's catch up on what I've been up to since I last blogged. Oh, yeah. Did you think this blog was NOT going to be self-indulgent? You don't get "Peter Principled" to 2nd place by posting altruistic blogs.

Here's the highlights of the last few months:


  • May: I started an awesome job that I truly enjoy. Yay!
  • Also in May: I was a guest bartender for a day. I am awful at it. I only serve beer and shots and I flat out refuse to make a drink that has more than "2 pours." Again: Lazy. Good thing I found that awesome day-job, because I could never make the mortgage on my subpar bartending skills. (Photo credit: Anthony Graham of Broken Glass photography, who also placed in the Indy Best Of Edition. Check out his website: http://brokenglassphoto.smugmug.com/)







  • June: I managed to use my stage name as a clue in a game of Hangin' With Friends. Yeah, I'm counting that as an accomplishment.

  • July: I performed in the Colorado Burlesque Festival for the 3rd year in a row. I got very drunk the first night there and I don't remember much, but my sources tell me that I performed well and that I had a good time. My sources are fairly reliable.

  • Also in July: I GOT TO HOLD AND BOTTLE FEED A BABY TIGER. THAT'S RIGHT, A MOTHERFUCKING BABY TIGER!!!!!!!
  • August: I made a bacon thong. Please note- I did not make a thong out of real bacon; that's how you get swine flu (*cue rimshot). This thong is made of fabric that looks like bacon. Why make a bacon thong, you ask? Other than the obvious answer of "fucking duh, it's a bacon thong?" Well, the thong was for my Miss Piggy act, of course. 

  • September: I went to Mexico! Playa del Carmen, to be exact. I bought cheap wrinkle cream and tequila, tourista style. And I met a coati. A coati is this:


Isn't he cute? Photo credit: Troy Staat: http://www.facebook.com/troutimagery?fref=ts Check out his stuff! Not only is he wildly talented, but I happen to be sleeping with him....the photographer, not the coati. He happens to be my husband. Again, the photographer, not the coati.

  • Also in September: I got really obsessed with Gangnam Style for about a 2 week period. I bought the song, learned the dance, taught the dance to others, then quickly became un-obsessed with it. I'm embarrassed to admit that I came to the Gangnam Style party about 3 weeks late, but I left they party like a lady, about 2 weeks before the trend got out of hand. If you are still "Gangnam Style-ing," consider this: I think my mom knows how to Gangnam Style. That shit is over. Way over. However.....I will still tag this post with the keywords "Gangnam Style" in order to increase my search results visibility. Hey, I'm lazy AND shady.

  • October: I started a joke, which started the whole world crying...and was voted 2nd place in the CS Indy's Best Of edition.....No take backs!


  • Also in October; about 1 hour ago: I created a hot chocolate drink that is half regular Swiss Miss with marshmallows and half Sugar-Free Swiss Miss. I call this "Half the Guilt Swiss Miss Hot Chocolate." I'm pretty sure this will be my greatest achievement; which is good because I will need something to fall back on once they strip me of my 2nd Place Best Blogger award. 
Well, I guess that's about it. I could take this time to make a bunch of promises about trying harder and being a better blogger and putting your needs first. But we all know that- like a deadbeat ex-boyfriend- I'm just going to borrow your car, ask for money and sleep with your best friend...metaphorically.

In closing, I want to thank you for your votes. Maybe, this was the kick in the pants I needed to start blogging again. Only time will tell:)