paranoid bikers

A group of friends who were really into road biking road their bikes from Breckenridge 9.5 miles to Frisco then another 7 to Copper Mountain. It was one of the guy's birthdays so they hung out at Copper and drank some beers, then some more beers, and.. you see where this is going. The only problem was that the Summit Stage (our free bus) doesn't take people with their bikes at night; the bike rack interferes with their visibility. So the guys decided to ride their bikes home.

So on their merry ride home, (did I mention all 16.5 miles is down hill,) they rushed against the wind in the dark. The front runner, stretched ahead pedalling when WHAM!! He was knocked out. When he came to moments later, he stared at none other than, get this: a bear.

The bear was not alarmed, merely annoyed and he dundered off into the woods before any of the drunken slackers arrived to witness him. The guy's friends, of course, did not believe he'd hit a bear. They just figured he was wasted and didn't want to admit he ate shit on the way home. (Although you'd think the guy's urine stained pants might have given them a hint... hmmm drunk people piss themselves though.) I digress. The next day they returned to the site of the "accident" where they found evidence that the guy had in fact struck a bear. There were tufts of brown fur everywhere.

So last weekend, I went to the bar, kicked some ass at beer pong (yeah Paige) and then proceeded to attempt to ride my bike home. I know this is not the safest way to get home, its not even a mile walk and really not a big deal to hoof it. Still, there are a few physical activities I really enjoy doing while under the influence. The first is climbing trees. I once climbed a tree in St. Louis outside the Delmar only to have a strange African man pretending to wield a camera shout up at me, "This is the BBC and we have a lady in a tree. Lady, don't be a hero! Get down from that tree!" But mountain trees are not as fun to climb: pine needles aren't friendly.
So I have riding bikes. Since Rob got pulled over last time we attempted this, I figured there were no police on the bike path so I'd take it instead of the road.

It took some swerving and searching to find the path, (night beer goggle vision isn't helpful,) but I figured it out. However, once I turned onto the path, I could not stop picturing bears everywhere. Large rocks became bears, trees became bears, shadows that didn't exist became bears! I don't want to hit a bear. That sounds freakin scary. I made it home, but not without a goodly amount of paranoia for my bike ride.

So I ask, what athletic activities are left for a drunken mountain girl? If the bears take biking, what's left? Oh yeah, beer pong. And swimming when you can find it.

When Gay doesn't mean Homosexual

OneNewsNow.com, a biased news site funded by the AFA, or American Family Association, a far right-wing (and James Dobson-friendly) organization whose own web site decries the "homosexual agenda."

As some discovered over the weekend and this morning, the OneNewsNow.com site has a filter set up on its news results that automatically changes the word "gay" to "homosexual." I think it's an odd substitution, but I'm sure they've done some kind of research that shows that "gay" has a more positive connotation than the more literal "homosexual."

How did this attempt at framing backfire on OneNewsNow.com and the AFA? The answer comes from track-and-field.

From the Boston Globe:

When Tyson Gay crossed the finish line in the men's 100 meters yesterday, the crowd at Hayward Field gasped. The clock displayed 9.68 seconds. Everyone at the US Olympic track and field trials knew what that meant. Gay ran the fastest 100 ever, regardless of conditions....

Engage homosexual filter! To people visiting OneNewsNow.com, this was the headline:

I wonder what's on the "homosexual agenda"? Any conjectures. Maybe it's breaking olympic records. Or a world of metrosexual fashion. Or maybe its

EQUAL RIGHTS. Ha ha!!! Stupid fundamentalists.

Friday Quotes

"Oh yeah. I've heard about you. You sweat all over the place at night."
"Yeah, I sweat the bed."

"You're sour."
"You're sour."
"I'm not sour. I'm an edgy version of pleasant."

"I never knew how stinky labor was until I was holding a leg peering down, it's an overwhelming smell of menses."

Student "If you swam in lake Dillon when you came out your testicles would be this big and inside you."
Professor "Great. We're talking about my testicles in class."

"So, how is your relationship?"
"Well, my relationship is kind of like cigarettes for you. It's not so good for you but you kind of need something to put in your mouth."

"First he will call, because that mean he is ready to show up, so if you need him at that moment he is going to your address, or the address you said if not, he is going to show up at the time you want"
"Ok"
"So far am I been helpful with your issue to your satisfaction?"
"ummm"

My little cumquat

There are so many annoying pet names, Sugar lump, snugglepuss, snaggly poo, and oh yes, the old “my little cumquat.” Have you ever had a cumquat? If not, try one and rethink that ole nickname. Cumquats are like the quickest burst of flavor, its so intense its like an activity of sourness in your mouth. The only thing better than trying these crazy fuckin things is watching someone else try one. Bring on the sour faces!

The sensation is addictive, especially if you like sour things like sour patch kids, sour skittles. They’ve got nothing on cumquats with their punch packing insides and the sweet peel. When you eat a cumquat you anticipate the tartness like a jack in the box about to burst. The tension is building building and then wham! Scares the fuck outa you. What a fuckin sadistic toy that is. It goes, “I’m scared, I’m scared, but the pleasant song, I must hear the end of pop goes the weasel but oh shit its going to pop out eeek, I can feel the tension in the crank, its about to Holy shit!” Goes the weasel

Yeah, cumquats are like that my little grumpus-butt.

Kittens

Everytime I see a guy with a beard like this

Or really most any bushy beard, I picture kittens hanging from it. It makes me giggle. If I knew photoshop, I'd put kittens in every beard.

There's no glasses in soccer

So yesterday I felt like those little seeds on dandilions had attached themselves and were scraping their initials in red lines along the insides of my eyeballs. Thus, I did not want to wear contacts to soccer. So I wore my glasses and discovered, the hard way, why it is people don't wear glasses to play soccer. Within about 30 seconds I took a ball to the face and my glasses snapped in two. Lame.

When I broke the two bones in my arm into four bones in my arm, with the ulna looking like it might come out and say hello any minute, I did not shed even a single tear. I just looked around, pointed at my crooked spot and said, "can someone take me to the hospital?" When I fractured my skull, to my best recollection, (which if I'm honest is none since I had a pretty significant concussion,) I did not cry. This winter when I jumped off a rock and landed with my binding missing raping me by about a quarter of an inch giving me a goose egg on my nanny, not a yelp, although I'm sure I busted out a fuck or two. Yet for some reason every time I get hit in the face with the ball, I cry.

I carried my glasses back to my bag, splashed some water on my face, and checked for cuts. In tact, but teary I returned to the group.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what it is, I just cry every time I get hit in the face. It doesn't even really hurt."
The guy who kicked the ball was looking like he might try to hide inside of his own skin behind a sheep, but said, "Yeah, I do that too every time I get hit in the face."
"Yeah it sucks." said another guy.
"Yeah, me too." Said another.

So apparently we're all wusses and I've learned not to play soccer in glasses.

Friday Quotes

"mm ankles... belly, ahh that neck. Its Mormon porn!"

"How many peeps in a posse, how much booty before baby got back, do you have to be all that to get all up in that... even with the gift of tongues I'm having trouble learning to speak hip-hop."

"Its like taking a shit Popsicle and covering it chocolate and saying its good."

"So you want me to beat the chicken while you go play soccer?"

"A couple jailed on suspicion of having a same-sex wedding was freed Monday after a doctor determined that the groom is a hermaphrodite."


Male cashier: "WI"? Which state is "WI"?
Female cashier: West Indies?
Male cashier: Okay. That makes sense.


"A nest of vipers,"
"A pox on your family"
"No, there's a next of vipers over here. Really."
"Oh, I thought you were taunting me. Sorry, a pox off of your family."

Special Flag Day Edition: Friday Quotes

So when my brother was in high school he and a friend wondered aloud about Flag day, a day marked only in name on the calendar, celebrated by none. Unless...
So they started celebrating Flag Day by eating burritos, drinking beer, and most importantly watching B movies. Over the years they have honed their flag-day-movie-detection-skills. And this year, well... *tears* it was so special.
Matthew prepared my niece Linnea well.

Matt "What does a doggie say?"
Linnea "Woof"
Matt "What does a lion say?"
Linnea "Roar"
Matt "What does a gramma say?"
Linnea "Yes"
Matt "What does a Buddhist say?"
Linnea "Namaste"
Matt "What does a zombie say?"
Linnea "Brains"

Excellent! But don't worry, she spent the day with a far safer, less gore-obsessed person, her mom.

In addition to preparing Linnea for the event, he prepared the man-basement. He added an extra couch and a new flat screen tv. Foss brough Bacorn, a tastastic invention which is possibly the reason why men in their late twenties who eat a diet of nearly entirely meat are still capable of shitting. It consists of corn-on-the-cob wrapped in bacon and grilled. And we settled in to watch the bloodbath.

Here was the lineup

1. Shredders- terrible movie about snowboarders chased by a murderer obsessed with the skier code.

Guy with accent says something not worth listening to while audience in the man-basement make gutteral noises,
Horror-movie-stereotype-girl "Oh, what country are you from?"
Guy with more pronounced accent "I am from Europe."
Best part was in the first three minutes when a guy cruising on his snowboard got beheaded by a trip wire, complete with squirty blood.

2. Rabid Grannies
Too stoned to remember much and left notes somewhere... hmm?
Audience quote, in cross dressing granny voice, "I'm going to gut you like a trout and eat your eggs."

3. Uh oh, more stoned. What the hell happened for the rest of the day?

Ok, I got it.

#3 was Cheerleader Ninjas. Very promising title, but without much in the way of delivery. Consisted of two groups of girls having fight scenes that much resembled that PBS show Power Rangers.
Best quote involved the principal, a woman of late child bearing age who comes about the cheerleaders when, from the background is heard... "wahhh... wahhhhh"
cheerleader asks "What was that?"
"My uterus."

4. Student Bodies. A Flag Day classic. If you have not seen this movie... take the time.

5. By far best of the day... Machine girl. Japanese dubbed movie with two girls who go on a bloodngore ridden rampage. In this movie, the one girl gets stuck to the wall by multiple projectiles on multiple occasions. There was much spraying of fake blood. When she loses her arm, she replaces it with a chain saw... MUCH MORE spraying of fake blood.

Best interjected quote during the movie was after one character died
"Now who will I play Dance, Dance Revolution with?"
Runner up
"Yes, that looks like a Bodyworlds exhibit."


How oh, how will we top this Flag Day?

What works

So I went to A Basin to say goodbye to my favorite thing on EARTH for four months. *wipes a tear* And also to register voters. I'm not really the best at approaching strangers but did very well there because 1, its skiing, and 2, I had a great line. "If you give me a beer, I'll register you to vote." I can't believe that worked. I had plenty of people give me beers who were already registered too. The best part is two of us registered 65 voters. What a great thing skiing in the sunshine is!

Friday Quotes

"Who will cut and paste this first?
No one. Nobody likes these surveys. No one reads them. I like to have sex with goats."

"The secret is people. The secret is people getting together. The secret is telling the truth. The truth is powerful, and it can only be suppressed for song long. And when the truth gets out the power that is created is greater than all the power of the guns and the money that a government possesses."

"Your house smells lemony fresh, but you scared like a bitch."

"Stuntcock is balls deep in your earhole"

"Put a bandanna on that bitch and call him Raphael."

"Whoever has his or her hand on my ass, you better be one of my kids."


"Who's paying your way?"
"The church group, the Cuban government, and the Soros Foundation... Capitalists, commies, and Jesus Christers are paying."

"Never underestimate the ability of a small group of committed individuals to change the world. Indeed they are the only ones who ever have." -Margaret Mead

Reposted from Overheard in New York

This is a repost of something I read on Overheard in NY and thought other people should enjoy too.

Old british man, to liquor store employees: Have any of you ever tried this beer?
Thugged-out liquor store employee #1: Nah.
Old british man: Oh, it's a splendid Belgian stout, very sweet. It's my absolute favorite variety of Belgian beer.
You should try it sometime. It is absolutely divine, a tastebud sensation the likes of which I can guarantee you've never known. Well, have a great night, chaps. [Pays for his beer and walks out.]
Thugged-out liquor store employee #1: Yo, dog, you hear that guy's accent? You think his accent was real?
Thugged-out liquor store employee #2: Nah.
Thugged-out liquor store employee #1: I don't think so, either.
Thugged-out liquor store employee #2: It couldn't have been real. You hear that guy? He ain't from no foreign country. He spoke perfect English.

What kind of pacifist bullshit is that?

I got in a fist fight at the Erykah Badu show on Monday night. I could tell the story and make the other girl sound bad, make myself sound hard. I could tell you that she poured a whole beer on me while I was apologizing for spilling on her in a very crowded room which was almost certainly 100 degrees. I could tell you that I got a few good shots in and she got none until she snuck back after it was over and kicked me in the face while I looked for the necklace she'd pulled off my neck. The necklace that Rob gave me for Christmas, the present most cherished. But telling you that doesn't erase the shame I feel, doesn't touch the fact that I didn't act the way I've asked my students to act. I won the fight but I lost something of myself. I lost the moral ground I thought I stood on. I learned what it is to loose control.

I'm supposed to be a pacifist. That's what I believe is right in my heart. I don't believe violence leads to anything but more violence. I remember a conversation I had with an 18 year old student in a residential facility. He was burning to beat the crap out of this other kid who probably deserved it at least a little. "I don't blame you for wanting to hit him, but you just can't do that." I'd argued. I'd said that he would be hitting a minor, someone with a low IQ and that he was 18 now and would be treated as an adult hitting a child. Beside the fact that its just not a good way to handle it. While that 18 year old would not have believed me, the reality was that the kid he wanted to hurt, in truth would have beat the crap out of him. If my 18 year old would have hit him, it would have turned into an all out brawl.

I've had endless discussions about fights with kids where I've said consistently that it is still not the right thing to do. They'd bring up an example of a time they think a person MUST resort to violence and consistently I'd tell them another way to handle it. And I believe in these other ways. Yet, when it came to my turn to turn the other cheek, to walk away, I did not do that. I could have shrugged it off, after all I'd just been thinking how good it would fill to dump a drink over my head since it was so freakin hot. (I'd also been thinking it would be nice to take my jeans off and hang out in my panties for the rest of the show.) But I didn't; I hit her... hard.

The rest of the show I thought of how I should have acted differently. How if I hadn't hit her, hadn't thrown a drink on her, I would still be wet but who cares. How I would not have embarrassed myself in front of people I'd just met. How I'd know that in the face of a meaningless stranger, I could control myself. I'd know I'd done the right thing. Rob said, "Well, I know it wasn't the right thing, but I'm not sure it was the wrong thing either."
The thing is I believe that the energy you put out in the world tends to come back to you. I had spent the last hour + being annoyed with the crowd, thinking how I'd like to hit someone. I'd been thinking when she tried to wriggle past me in the crowd, "It'd serve her right if she got beer spilled on her." I hadn't made a lot of effort to move out of her way other than to hold up the drinks in my hands (which really meant that when I did spill on her it was on her head.) And in general, I'd spent the last week or so annoyed with the world and wanting to crush parts of it. The fact is my own destructive energies came back to me, and I didn't stop them. I let violence beget violence. I failed.

And the shame lingers on...

What a life

So yesterday Rob and I hiked to the top of Mt. Royal (the mountain that stares at us from our balcony.) It was a heftier hike than I'd expected, but oh so good. First thing this morning we discussed inflating the air mattress on the balcony so that we could listen to the river at night while sleeping under the stars (with a bathroom!) Then, we rode our bikes to breakfast in shorts and a tanktop (me not Rob smartass.) This afternoon I went skiing in the slush ahh soo good! Then rode my bike to the bar for a beer. Its a rough life.d

Which is worse

I'm not sure which is worse, my cat watching bugs crawl on the sliding glass door, waiting for the hummingbirds, or me watching my cat watch the bugs crawl on the sliding glass door waiting for the hummingbirds.