My Friends at Nintendo in Seattle

Some of you may remember how tired I got of SXSW on The Twitter.

Sorry. There's a chance I was at least that annoying during the Nintendo Ambassador Roundup.†

But, guys, it was SO COOL.

For one, being treated like one is important actually lends to the illusion that one is actually important, and for this one, those illusions are what makes the world go 'round.‡

For two, it was amazing meeting people who are in this particular boat with me.

Many of you may not believe this, but I'm actually kind of shy around people I don't know. I started to dread the whole thing somewhere over Nevada.

Shouldn't have worried.

Brand About Town, a marketing company that does a fantastic job for Nintendo,* flew us in to Seattle Thursday, March 31. There was a reception Thursday night that started out nerve-wracking for me, then became enlightening.

There were *guys* there.

Just for starters.

I came into the Nintendo Ambassador thing under the Girls' Guide to Gaming, which was a marketing push to women who weren't necessarily video gamers.§ The idea was to show that there is more to the Nintendo family than shooting aliens and playing football. You don't have to be a teenage boy to enjoy a nice gaming system.

They created a comfortable, supportive, fun environment for us to try out their product and learn just how much we could get out of it.

Turns out, before there were Girls being Guided in Gaming, there were Wii Families. Somewhere along the line, there were mommy bloggers. And I think there was a sort of community effort, since a couple of people I met got involved via a Boys & Girls Club-type program and through working in a nursing home.

Yeah, this is the kind of stuff that trips my trigger.

Friday, we spent the day at Nintendo America HQ. This pic was provided by Brand About Town as maybe the only sanctioned photo of the building:




You'll note this isn't from our trip. You can tell because there's blue sky. Our trip looked more like this:¶




But none of that matters when you're inside with a bunch of Nintendo nerds and the latest technotoy.

This is Jen. Jen lives in Nederland# and has a food-ish blog. She is a professional photographer, so you really wish you were following her because her pictures are probably much better.




Now, our photog rules were pretty strict but simple: photos only inside the rumpus room, and 3D must be turned off if you take pics of the game. So here's a 2D Nintendog for you:




The 3D-without-glasses on the Nintendo 3DS works basically the same as a View Master. It's essentially an electronic stereopticon. Paired images push your eyes to focus in such a way that it brings depth to the image.††

Besides the 3D gaming, there is a 3D camera and 3D video viewer. We played with those too.

Actually, we played with eight different games in much the same setting as my Girls' Guide to Gaming experience: comfy couches, games to play with and a Nintendo expert to help light the way.




This was our tour guide for Street Fighter. He was nice and helpful,‡‡ but as it turns out I'm a Street Fighter savant, I didn't need too much hand-holding on that one.




I appreciate the 3D on the game, though my tendency to steer the game and wiggle like a banked trout as I beat the snot out of a fellow ambassador can diminish the effect a little.§§ The 3D wasn't the most impressive part to me, though.

I really like the StreetPass feature. You build a Mii avatar for yourself, then if you turn on the communications and allow the flow of information, if you pass someone who has a Nintendo 3DS with StreetPass up and running, it swaps your Miis. The Miis carry puzzle pieces and act as heroes to save your Mii from a dungeon.¶¶

OK, that sounds dorky and weird, but it's very cool. And I tell you, I almost kissed a stranger when I got my first StreetPass friend outside the Nintendo gathering. It was like finding a hundred dollar bill in a rest stop bathroom.

The thing that really blew my mind, though, was the AR cards.% They're freakin' magic. That's all there is to it: magic. How can you play a whole series of games by pointing the camera at a question mark on a card?^

Now, for your dining pleasure, here's the montage of People Enjoying the Nintendo 3DS.##





The President and COO of Nintendo of America, cult figure††† Reggie Fils-Aime, talked to us for awhile about the company and the Nintendo 3DS itself. I'm impressed with the conscience Nintendo showed in testing the 3D and its effect on kids' eyes. Plus, great parental controls.‡‡‡




I also love that the employees I talked to call him "Reggie" and speak like they're basically buddies.+ Not in a creepy, bootlicking way, either. I get the feeling Nintendo is a fabulous place to work.

And I couldn't take pictures, but their building is beautiful and comfortable. Sustainable and green, of course, with really nice bamboo floors. There's a great cafeteria§§§ and a floor that's just for hanging out, meeting and - with a rooftop deck$ - getting a little fresh air.

OTHER COOL THINGS ABOUT THE NINTENDO AMERICA HQ:

1. The building is square and is divided into four equal parts. Each part is represented by a colour and a Nintendo character. It's kinda like airport parking garages, where you remember your car is parked on the blue bear level or the red boot level.
2. There is a Panaboard in one of the conference rooms.& I really, really wanted to play with the Panaboard, but there were enemy ships to sink.
3. Speaking of conference rooms, they're named for iconic game characters and elements.>
   
4. The male/female icons on the bathrooms are Mario character silhouettes rather than those Fisher Price armless people we usually see.

We got a chance to tour the building with a couple of Nintendo employees, who gave us some Nintendo history and personal insight into the company.

Then we got to go shopping in the Nintendo employees' store.¶¶¶

Friday night, there was a small reception while we gathered to have the buses take us to a nice dinner. I went to Anthony's, which is a Seattle chain and maybe not the most avant-garde choice I could make, but I went for the view.




And the fish.###




The trip was a total success for me and I'm excited all over again about the state and direction of technology.

Particularly in technology that makes me the coolest aunt in the world.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Of course, my trip only lasted a couple of days. SXSW was, like, six months.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I may be needier than I like to admit.

*FOOTNOTE (yes, an asterisk): By the way, as cool as it was to find out about Nintendo, I'd like to spend some quality time with Brand About Town people. I suspect their jobs are very, very cool.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You may recall the series of ads with actresses and their kids and friends. I've never felt so close to Lisa Kudrow.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): In the half-dozen times I've been to Seattle, this is the first time I've ever seen rain. I was beginning to think the rain stereotype was a way to keep tourists away. Kinda like how we use snow in Denver. By the way, that's the company soccer pitch we're walking toward. Yes, there is a Nintendo company soccer pitch.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): A rogue suburb of Boulder.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Go look it up if you want something more scientific.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): And cute!

§§FOOTNOTE (dizziness): You pretty much have to be looking at it straight on or you can see the pictures split. It's disconcerting to be shooting ships from your submarine and you tilt to allow for the motion of the ocean and suddenly you're drunk and seeing two of everything. Other people may not have this problem.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (Street Fighter combo - trust me): And you can earn HATS for your Mii.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Augmented Reality. We could all use a little Augmented Reality, couldn't we?

^FOOTNOTE (careted): MAGIC! Weren't you paying attention?

##FOOTNOTE (couple of extra pounds *ahem*): Insert inspirational soundtrack here. Also: see the fourth picture? That's Sarah and Sammy. Sarah's lots of fun. I'm following her on The Twitter at @pinkshoe. And I don't have a pic of here, but Erini at @myadorkablelife is also on my list. In case you want to be like me.

†††FOOTNOTE (Cross in 3D): When what you say sparks and Internet meme ("My body is ready"), you earn cult figure status. Plus, people who know better than I term his COO-ship at Nintendo the Reggielution. That's cult status.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (3DDoubleCross): When you want to be sure the Keepers of the Nephews don't cut off your supply, you're very sensitive to things like "age-appropriate" and "parental controls."

+FOOTNOTE (plussed): One of our tour guides told us that when Reggie's in his office, people go by waving their Nintendo 3DSs hoping to get his Mii on their StreetPass. THAT'S cult status.

§§§FOOTNOTE (3DSwirly): With the coolest soda machine ever. A little elevator travels up to your choice (A12, for instance) and slides under it, then moves down, then right, then angles your drink so it slides at a 45-deg angle into the delivery slot, where it is presented to you. I could have spent all day plugging dollars into the machine and watching it. I may be Nintendo's perfect Guinea pig.

$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): A *living* rooftop. Plus, the conference room and areas up there are named after Prisoner of Zelda characters.

&FOOTNOTE (ampersanded): Maybe in all of them. I was only in one, and it had a Panaboard.

>FOOTNOTE (greatered): My favourite: Another Castle.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (Paragraph in 3D): A certain indulgent aunt may have purchased two Nintendo 3DS's for certain indulged nephews.

###FOOTNOTE (3DPound): The fish is wearing a Seattle Mariner's cap, for those of you scoring at home.

Injury, Meet Insult

"I want to use a whole assortment† of four-letter words right now, doc," I said to the optometrist when he told me I NEED BIFOCALS.

I've worn glasses for years for three things:

1. Driving at night.
2. To see the names on the jerseys.‡
3. Movies.§

[SUMMARY: Keep your eye¶ on the important things.]

Apparently, I got old overnight. One day, I gauged where to hold my book by how comfortable my arms were, not where I could see. Because, you see, I could see. Everything. Just fine. Far or near.

Then, *bam!* one Tuesday,# I couldn't see the computer screen. And that night, I had to hold the book an inch from my nose.

So. Bifocals.

I reeled around the mirrored displays, blindly†† picking up one frame after the other, waving them in front of my face in a desultory manner, humming "Glory Days" and craving dinner at 4:30 for some reason.

[SUMMARY: No focus‡‡ at all.]

Old, feeble brains can't multi-task.§§ It seems I was... less than thorough in my search.

To those of you youngsters out there with all this wonder ahead of you, let me give you a little tip.




Don't forget to check the whole frame before you order.¶¶


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Like a big, brightly-coloured Costco assortment.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): You know how it is with free agency and salary caps. Sometimes you don't know a soul at the beginning of the season.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): When I remembered them. It was always a proud day when I could say, "Oh, we can sit anywhere. I remembered my glasses."

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I worry that I have a form of Alzheimer's which has as its primary symptom uncontrollable punning.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Um... if I remember correctly.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Oh, no...

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Punzheimer's!

§§FOOTNOTE (*so* confused): And just remembering the words to Glory Days is multi-tasking in and of itself.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (*headbonk* *headbonk*): For those of you scoring at home, the random, ugly triangles are orange, purple and white. All I wanted was copper frames. I thought they'd go with my hair. I showed Hans and he didn't even try to make like it was OK. "Your hair almost completely covers the bad part," he said, helpfully.

Do Your Civic Duty

VOTE!

Oh, not for any of those windbags, liars or foot-in-mouth experts on capitol hill. I'm baking an oodle† of cupcakes some time in the next week and I'm interested in the general public's‡ temperature on the final flavour slot.

1st cupcake recipe - Buttermilk cake with Spiced Vanilla frosting§
2nd cupcake recipe - Red Wine Chocolate cake with Mascarpone frosting
3rd cupcake recipe - Um... I'm leaning toward one of the following:

• Cardamom & Orange cake with Lemongrass frosting


• Cranberry cake with Dulce de Leche Pecan frosting


• Carrot Cake cake with classic Cream Cheese frosting


• Hummingbird¶ cake with Marmalade frosting

Cast your vote off to the right% there, leave a comment... you may just influence what I bake, and isn't that what you've always dreamed of?#


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): The proper term for a group of cupcakes. Y'know... like a pride of lions, a pod of whales, an unkindness of ravens... an oodle of cupcakes.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And you guys too!

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Like this:




As an aside to the footnote (supply lines are getting thinner and harder to maintain), when I searched my blog for "cake," it told me there were no posts that matched the query "cake." My blog is a lying whore.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): For those of you who aren't Southern, the cupcake book says hummingbird cake is a "classic recipe from the American South," and its ingredients include cinnamon, mashed bananas, orange zest, shredded carrot, crushed pineaple and flaked coconut.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): NOT a political statement.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): When you wish upon a blog, makes no difference who you snog... lalala... hum if you don't know the words.

As another aside (I can hear you rolling your eyes), I wanted to add musical notes to that, but the latest version of Word no longer has musical notes. I don't know what I'm going to do when I want to sing to you now.

Yay, Meme!

I'd like to thank Yvette for making my blog post today a no-brainer.

I'd also like to thank my iPod for not making me look like as much of a dork as it could've.†

If that Lionel Ritchie‡ ever got out, it would be TOTALLY embarrassing.§

1. Hang Wire - Pixies
2. Seven Veils - Peter Murphy
3. Hole - Catherine Wheel
4. Messin' With the Mekon - Robert Plant¶
5. True - Spandau Ballet#
6. Lucretia - Sisters of Mercy
7. Dead Man's Party - Oingo Boingo††
8. Still of the Night - Whitesnake
9. Salsbury Hill - Peter Gabriel
10. Let Me See - Morcheeba
11. La Lune - Sarah Brightman
12. Into the Fire - Sarah McLachlan
13. Add It Up - Violent Femmes
14. Rain Will Fall - I Mother Earth
15. Der Kommissar - Falco
16. Gin and Juice - Snoop Dogg
17. I Miss the Girl - Soul Coughing
18. Push It - Salt-N-Pepa
19. Golden Touch - Razorlight
20.‡‡ Over the Hills and Far Away - Gary Moore

Deep in my heart, I love this meme. I did it on Facebook and found it very pleasant. I'd highly recommend it to any of you, so tag if you want it. Just turn your music player of choice on, put it on shuffle, list the first twenty% songs (if you cheat or edit, you're missing the point) and tag anyone you want.

I'm always interested in seeing what other people listen to, so let me know if you decide to do it.

I'm leaving for The Lake in a couple of hours. This year, I may just put the old iPod on shuffle and see how that treats me.

Besides, there's the dark-corridor-in-a-horror-flick thrill that Lionel Ritchie might be lurking around every corner.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Though it did want me to list La Lune three times.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I have a GOOD EXCUSE. For our 20th high school reunion, when I was on the committee, I volunteered to make CDs for each year we were in high school (1981-1985). I (theatre geek, underachiever, fashion disaster, metal chick) picked five songs, Heidi Dowd (cheerleader, valedictorian, golden girl, mainstream) picked five songs, and I included the Billboard Top Ten for each year. Lionel Ritchie was in the top ten a LOT in those days.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You'll all note I've decided to stop using Neil Diamond as my measure of dorkitude in music. Neil's a hero. Neil's a classic. And he's way more hip than Lionel Ritchie.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Love me some Robert Plant.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Brother says I don't like this song. "No you don't. You really don't. You may think you do, but you don't." Apparently, this embarrasses Brother more than it embarrasses me.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): This is Steve's and my song.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Then I looked back at Yvette's instructions and she only asked for 15. But if I only do 15, I don't get Snooop and that would make me sad. Gin & Juice, btw, is the only song in common between my FB list and this one. The universe is trying to tell me something. Something about gin.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): In true Marin fashion, I now find the 20 I thought I did on FB was actually 25. I'm a rebel, making up rules as I go along... if you do the meme, pick a number from 15 to 25 and use that. *ahem*

Oh, Thank the Cats

TTHFCIF

It's a tired Friday that started with snow,† so it's kinda nice to meme and not be clever‡ without a net.

That said, I may have a funny little story later today if things don't get too hairy to slack off and blog.

For now, on to the meme.

[SUMMARY: See? There was a point.]

Here are the rules:

1. Link to the person that tagged you and put the rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 weird or random facts about yourself.
3. Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and link to their blog.
4. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a note on their blog.

My Tagger - Laurie

First, I'd like to commend Laurie on warning me *yesterday* that she would be tagging me today, even though I had to stay awake like a kid waiting for Santa last night, leading seamlessly into my first weird thing:§

1. I have bravely¶ outlined my increasingly weird sleep habits here. I've slept reasonably well for a reasonably long time, so it's clearly time for some sleep trauma. About a week ago, I stopped knowing WHERE TO PUT MY SHOULDERS. I am baffled. I didnt know there were so many wrong ways to arrange one's shoulders when the lights go out.# I'm not sure what the next solution will be, but I hope it involves a crane.

2. I have secretly assigned a sex to each number and letter. Some are actually hermaphroditic and take their gender cues from their surroundings.††

3. I feel inordinately smug that Helen, my last Secret Pal, sent me a Noro striped scarf prior to the Yarn Harlot's recent canonisation of said project. It makes me feel fashion forward.‡‡

4. I mail-ordered custom cereal from New York last week.

5. I can smell when it's going to snow.§§

6. I hate the word "stink" the way a lot of people hate the word "moist," and I actually react like someone used a particularly nasty four-letter word in front of my grandmother¶¶ when someone says it.

7. I hate eggplant because it feels like a tongue in my mouth.##


Oh, the tagging part is always the hardest. Lyda and Anna-Liza.††† Donna. Kim. Kelly.‡‡‡ Karen. Yvette.

Some of you are getting tagged because I can. Some of you are getting tagged because I haven't heard nearly as much from you lately as I would like. Some of you... well, let's consider it proof of life.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Which everybody in Denver acts as if they've never, ever seen before and the freeways turn to parking lots every first snow, even though we only got less than an inch, but that entire sub-inch fell in great white wads during the very peak of rush hour, so it was scarier than we could have imagined. I'm rolling my eyes so hard right now my eyelashes are curling.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Or just coherent.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): A segueway of beauty is a joy forever.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Some would say shamelessly.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Not in the really good way. In the sleep way. I don't know if there's a wrong place to put your shoulders in the fun way, unless it's squarely in your partner's sensitive bits. I suspect even that could be fun. I'm thinking about this *way* too much.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): You're backing away from the screen right now, aren't you?

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Please don't remind me eleventy-billion people have worn the scarf before me. It taints the illusion.

§§FOOTNOTE (swirling like a blizzard): Not totally weird -- lots of people can, but so many people can't, they think I'm insane when I say, "It's going to snow -- I can smell it!"

¶¶FOOTNOTE (turning my nose up. Twice.): Internally. I try really hard not to hold my weirdities against other people.

##FOOTNOTE (pounded like a dance club beat): Again, not in the good way.

†††FOOTNOTE (double-crossed -- hey if I can count Lyda and A-L as two separate meme targets, I am surely capable of miscounting crosses): Yes, I'm counting them as two.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (the train tracks less taken): Remember Kelly?

Some of you may note (and I'd like to receive credit for) my new-found skill in counting to four and beyond. I owe it all to lace-knitting.

Locomotivation

Which means nothing.†

I just kinda liked the word and thought it would look cool popping up over there on the right with the other blogtitles.‡

Here's what I have for you today:

My blog is worth $0.00.
How much is your blog worth?

Like that's news.

[SUMMARY: And the grapes would be sour anyway.]

It's probably largely due to my complete lack of clarity. Two things everybody should know:

1. Secret Pal sent me enough roll-on patchouli to glaze the streets of Denver and keep the hippies happy... and keep me in a state of half-lidded sexual limbo for weeks. Thank you, Secret Pal! I'll be getting more batteries on my lunch hour!


2. The next Vampirates sweater will not be for Tallest, Hairiest Nephew's brother... it will be for Brother. Capital B. As in my brother. As in 6'2" and I wish he'd stop working out so I wasn't contemplating a township of black stockinette.§ That's why I need your support for the idea I can finish it in four months.¶

See? If I just took the marbles out of my mouth, y'all would know what I was talking about.

[SUMMARY: You get what you pay for.]

I'm sure my blogvalue will drop like a Pinto's transmission when the blogiverse gets word that Hans isn't here today.#
*************
Indonesian Patchouli - Yakshi (oil - from Secret Pal)

Marin says: Proving that, like roses,†† different patchoulis have different scents. I'm loving the idea of discovering new concepts out of old ideas.

This version educates me in notes I'd only vaguely noticed and never really put a name to before: licorice, bitter chocolate, benzene.

Usually, patchouli has an black soil base with an overlay of twigs and leaves and tiny, white flowers. This has nothing botanical that I can suss out. It's deeper, rounder and blackter than usual,‡‡ and the scent clings tightly to my wrist... I can't smell it when I'm typing, but the scent doesn't fade even after hours of wear, which makes it kind of personal.

Yakshi says: Indonesian Patchouli finds its strength from the islands of Indonesia. Imagine the heavy, distinct scent wrapping you in a fragrance reminiscent of an exotic Balinese dancer. Fabulous fingers of fragrance evoking a strong, irresistible scent.

Hans says: *cricketcricketcricket*


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Unless you read it as "lack-o-motivation," in which case you'd be on the right track. Heh. Track... trains... locomotive... sorry.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Because it is better to look good than to write good, darling.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Not that there's anybody I'd rather knit acreage in stockinette for.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Particularly given that I haven't been able to get two teeny-tiny little Arrrgyle socks done in nearly two years.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Funny Hans story: He just called to ask me to look up a couple of wells for him, as he wasn't finding the information he was hoping for at the county courthouse in beautiful downtown Lusk. Turns out the boss sent him to the wrong county. Now Hans has to drag his sweet ass (his words) to even beautifuller Douglas, Wyoming, where the wells actually live.

If I get to Reno next week and find I was supposed to be in Honolulu...

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Speaking of roses, I am currently reading The Emeperor of Scent by Chandler Burr, and there is a footnote in the book (yay, footnotes!) that every variety of rose has a distinct scent all its own.

I Could Not Stop for News...

...so it kindly stopped for me.†

TTHFCIF

In the interest of fair play and full disclosure, two overnight changes to yesterday's Fallen Feet Report:

1. According to an anonymous commenter I'm going to call "Kim,"‡ all the feet but one were right feet. This leads me to believe there is either a crazed, peg-legged man§ exacting revenge on Canadians for a foot lost in a lumberjacking accident¶ or that right feet are not screwed on quite as tightly as left feet.%



2. And, wow... I really jumped the gun on this one. Yesterday's foot was a hoax.# So I have to back off the "rash of feet" claim†† and revise my estimate to "handful of feet."‡‡

In other news: Jamie Lynn Spears still a mom, Generalissimo Francisco Franco still dead.§§


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): "Get into the carriage, little girl..." Hey, Jeff and Todd almost fell out of their seats laughing in junior English when I did that joke.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Because it appears to be her IP address, or close enough.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Always go for the pirate.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I know that's a terrible stereotype. It could have been a dog-sledding accident.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb (ha!) and say left feet are 20% tighter than right feet. Or 20% of left feet are tighter than their right foot counterparts. It's math. You can't argue with math.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Turns out it was an "animal paw." I'd like to know what animal paw had teams of forensic investigators stumped (no pun intended) all afternoon yesterday.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): 'Cause we now know a rash is six. And this is now less than six feet -- kinda like a disappointing internet date.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Heheheh.

§§FOOTNOTE (let's turn this news story around!): Anyone? Classic SNL.

Signifying Nothing

TTHFCIF

You Are An ENFP

The Inspirer You love being around people, and you are deeply committed to your friends. You are also unconventional, irreverent, and unimpressed by authority and rules. Incredibly perceptive, you can usually sense if someone has hidden motives. You use lots of colorful language and expressions. You're quite the storyteller! In love, you are quite the charmer. And you are definitely willing to risk your heart. You often don't follow through with your flirting or professed feelings. And you do break a lot of hearts. At work, you are driven but not a workaholic. You just always seem to enjoy what you do. You would make an excellent entrepreneur, politician, or journalist. How you see yourself: compassionate, unselfish, and understanding When other people don't get you, they see you as: gushy, emotional, and unfocused What's Your Personality Type?

Thanks to Robin for allowing me not to think on this sunny Friday.

Except to ponder that:

1. Should be amended to read: "Incredibly perceptive, you can usually sense if someone has hidden motives unless it's a boy who has romantic possibilities, particularly if he has not realised the door to that sexual identity closet opens."
2. That heartbreaker thing? Feh. I don't think I've ever broken a heart in my life.
3. My job acumen? Marin for President, 2012! Oh, hey, wait... saint isn't on the list...
4. How I see myself? They forgot fuzzy.
5. How others see me? They forgot breezy.

Shout out to my Avalanche. "Were you hoping they'd buy you breakfast?" to my Rockies.

Look! It's a Kilt... It's a Plane...

...a brooch... a pterodactyl...

I have a handful of pictures I took off the camera last night, and I can't tell you how proud I am of myself.

Not just 'cause of the photo thing, either.

I had brunch with the Breakfast Club† yesterday, then actually ran some errands, filled CLCWWW's tank‡ and went home to tidy up, do laundry and -- yes -- offload the pictures from my camera.

None of this may seem particularly noteworthy to you, but you have to understand:

1. I got up for breakfast. I even drove, which means I put in that extra effort AND my front seat was empty enough to carry another person.§
2. I ran errands instead of reverting to my natural ass-on-chair state.
3. I filled the car instead of talking myself into waiting until today, when the indicator would have been flashing red lights and probably screaming at me and I might have even whined my way out of doing it on the way to work then I would have been sweating the couple of miles to the gas station after work and it would have been stressful.¶
4. I repeat: I do not clean unless I have a good reason. "It's dirty" really isn't sufficient motivation for me.
5. I love doing laundry, but it does require some time commitment, however ass-on-couch that commitment may be. Also? I did clothes AND sheets yesterday, where I usually do one on Sunday and one on Monday. Or Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Or next week... I can wear my prom dress to work, right?
6. I don't know how other people do it, but I have to power up the Olympus software, transfer the photos from the camera to albums therein, copy the ones I want to a folder called "blogstuff" on my desktop, run them through Corel Photo to make them smaller than 42" wide and sharpen them up for the Innernets, then upload them to Blogger. It takes a long time.

So I'm feeling particularly saintly# and particularly flush†† this morning.

Also oddly chipper for a Monday.‡‡

Also? I packed my breakfast AND my lunch.

[SUMMARY: Sometimes it's the little things...]

I will be approaching this week's blogfodder in a somewhat logical manner.§§

[SUMMARY: Saintly, flush and clever!]

For today's offering, we will have a brief recap of what happened Out My Office Window last week.

Uncharacteristically, there will be no cranes.

The copy place up the street apparently got a bunch of new copiers.




And celebrated by painting new four square courts in the alley...




...and indulging in a company-wide four square tournament.




Friday, there was a man with a kilt.¶¶




There was also the customary home-opener fly-over% by some branch of the military with really sleek, fast jets that made my chair vibrate in a most pleasant way, but I was too busy watching## to take a picture.

[SUMMARY: Use your imagination.]

And isn't that what life's all about? Enjoying instead of documenting?†††

Says the blogger who just told you all about her laundry habits.

Remember: there will be knitting, if you stick around long enough. And that will make it all better.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You know them as Bag Lady Kathryn and Angel-eek.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Premium! Ouch!

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Hey, single contractor people living alone don't have cars, they have rolling file cabinets. That's my story and I'm sticking with it.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I frequently run my gas tank to white-knuckle level; always have. The fact that I've almost never run out of gas on the freeway made that one time I did shocking in the extreme. Oh, look at me not learning my lesson.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Sarah? Are you still keeping score?

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): 'Cause, y'all know -- full gas tank, full fridge, full complement of clean clothes, tidy living room, healthy and cheap food for the day... I'm rich!

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I'm blaming it on barometric pressure.

§§FOOTNOTE (hey, is this room spinning or is it just me?): Mostly driven by the fact that, while I cleaned off my camera, there is a whole set of photos I haven't Corel'd yet. I'm going to pretend to do this in sort of chronological order while buying myself time to use the time I would have used on laundry tonight on Corelling my photos so I can show you some knitting later this week. And dyeing!

¶¶FOOTNOTE (ball clubs): I'm sure he was heading for Coors Field for some sort of opening day festivities, but I like to close my eyes and fantasise that he was just this guy... in a kilt... on a workday... in downtown Denver.

##FOOTNOTE (pounded like jado juice): And vibrating!

%FOOTNOTE (percented): In case I didn't feel like mentioning it, the Rox lost the home opener 8 to 1 and proceeded to get swept. I don't want to talk about it. Could we talk about how they won the season opener in St. Louis instead?

†††FOOTNOTE (triple dip! wait, what did you call me?): A coat of shiny self-help shellac on the fact that I completely forgot to grab my camera when Hans said, "Look out your window! The fly-over is coming!"

Denver Dumb Men's League

TTHFCIF

First and foremost, I promised updates on the keychain situation as circumstances warranted.

*warrantwarrantwarrant*†

First, Angel-eek found the entire push-button animal keychain line here,% where they have many, many cool things and I really want the duck mirror. I don't even look in mirrors‡ and I want the one with the duck feet.

Then Lyda, bemoaning the lack of zombie keychains, tracked these down. Despite her misgivings they may be too cute, I am madly in love with them. I used to have nightmares when I was six that looked a lot like those keychains.

Well, those and the hideous Frankentoys from "Toy Story."

For the record? Nothing to do with keychains, but Lyda also found this collection. I think a Zombie Knitter thong would be an excellent test for a man's dedication to the pursuit of a little trim.

Which brings us to our real topic of the day: men. And the dedication aforementioned.

[SUMMARY: Segueways are my speciality.§]

So let's talk about boys.

Oh, how I love boys. And men. And guys... 'specially guys.

I love their chronic simplicity. I love their straightforward communication style. I love taking their money at the poker table and how good natured they can be about it. I love watching football with them.

The more astute among you may recognise I'm talking about guy *friends*. If there's a hint of love or lust in the air, all that goes out the window.

Then they become the stereotype of a thousand predictable sitcoms. Every bad, mad comedienne shilling for two drink minimum shifts from shrew to incisive sociologist solely because she's so RIGHT. And even we reasonable and sane women¶ suffer from bouts of why-can't-he-call-when-he-says-he's-going-to-call misandry.

[SUMMARY: Poetic wax: apply liberally, buff to a purple shine.]

See, I met this nice guy last weekend.#

He beat me in a spelling bee, but graciously†† conceded that our spelling aptitude was at least comparable, amid mild bouts of giving me shit for misspelling "boudoir."

And he chatted me up.

And I gave him one of my MOO cards.

And he kissed me. Several times.

And when I told him I'd knitted Sue's rainbow scarf, he said, "Huh. That's kinda... hot."

Wait... let's go back to the kissing.

Top four kisses, all time (in order):

1. Mark, the coffin kiss, 1982: Our high school drama department was working the Denver Jaycees' haunted house. I was out of our cauldron and down the graveyard path at the BBYO cemetery, hanging out in a stand-up coffin, playing dead, getting a little rest from all the cackling and stirring. Mark walked up, pulled the split-lid‡‡ over us a little, leaned in and laid his lips on mine, absolutely parallel, and ran the very tip of his tongue across my top lip and then blew on it gently. I don't know if it was the coffin, the hot guy or my lack of experience, but I may have come just a little at that moment.


2. Different Mark, the stair kiss, 1986: I was hanging out with The Denny Lake Band§§ at the ABC Motel in Gunnison after their gig during Western State College homecoming festivities. The very cute, very smart guitarist¶¶ spent the night in the corner talking to me about important stuff while the other musicians drank, diddled their egos and tried to get into Stesha's pants. He asked for my phone number when Stesh and I were leaving. I was behind him going down the outside stairs from their door. Halfway down, he turned and I thought he was going to say something, but he laid a liplock on me that literally made my knees go weak. Good thing he had his arm locked around my waist or I would have collapsed. It was a quality kiss, but it was the spontaneity of it that put it over the top. And the aesthetic -- very Le Baiser de l'Hotel de Ville.


3. Currently a tie: The Boy, the bottom of my stairs, 8/15/06: I believe he was jealous of Marco during the Def Leppard concert at Red Rocks. Marco and I were having a good time, singing along, joking... and on the way home, Marco and The Boy made friends and agreed to take Mary, Marco's girlfriend, and me golfing the following weekend. Feathers soothed a little, The Boy laid a relieved, slightly possessive kiss on me before saying goodnight that made me go, "Oh!" TIED WITH: The Spelling Bee Champ, by the watering station at the Coral Room, the wee hours of 3/23/08: Just a spectacular kiss. Firm, warm, mobile (but not too), wet (but not too), sexy, judicious use of the tongue, good suction... just a really good kiss. And it didn't hurt that it was followed by a half-dozen more of the same. And a declaration of knitting as "hot."

So why hasn't he called?

I was speculating with Ange and Bag Lady Kathryn that he may have misunderstood something I said.

See, after a few of these lovely kisses, I told him he was very good at it. He paused for a moment and said, "Well, I guess there's always room for improvement."

At the time, I thought it was a little odd, but it sounded like the sort of thing I say when I'm caught wrong-footed,## so I shrugged, smiled and said, "Could be."

We had been in the midst of saying our good-byes, but I turned around to say something to Kelley and he just disappeared. Again, I didn't think a whole lot of it, but...

Now he hasn't called.

And now that I'm in the check-the-phone-for-a-dial-tone phase, I'm wondering if he thought I told him he *wasn't* very good at kissing. And he was crushed. And he's somewhere, nursing his wounds, dreaming of the young††† woman who so fascinated him and so defeated him.

Perhaps he cries in his pillow every night.

[SUMMARY: Leave me to my fantasies. Did you not hear he hasn't called?]

On the other hand, there's Soldier Boy, who calls every couple of weeks and either 1) says, "Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night? We should get a beer or something," then never calls, or 2) calls at 9:30 on Sunday night to say, "I'm in your neck of the woods, I was hanging out with a buddy and I thought maybe we could get a beer or something. Right now. Run."

OK, he doesn't really say, "run," but you get the idea.

I called him after I got home Wednesday night, a couple of glasses of wine making me brave, and said, "You do know I'm a girl, right? And you have to give me at least a few hours of lead time so I can shave my legs and put on the war paint."

"Honey, you know I'm not a planning kind of guy..."

"Oh, I know. But... legs. Shaving. Girly stuff. I'm not asking for much. Three or four hours warning."

"What are you doing August 8?"

"Smart ass."

At least we're both very aware of our needs and our shortcomings. I don't know The Spelling Bee Champ well enough to know what the hell he's thinking. If he's thinking at all.^

There I was crying in my beer, making Ange and Kathryn listen to my junior high rantings.‡‡‡ They were being very supportive, and Ange chimed in with, "They should have a Denver Dumb Men's League."§§§

Ange introduced me to the Denver Dumb Friends League KittenCam, which can be equal parts disappointing and addicting. We had been talking about that and DDML just popped right into place.

[SUMMARY: That, my elementary school-level readers, is a clear example of serendipity.]

Now, I got my cats at the DDFL ten years ago. My hedgehog had waddled off the mortal coil almost a year before and Brother offered to adopt me a cat for my birthday.

"But I don't like cats," I said.

"You only don't like cats because you've never had a cat," he replied.

So we went to a couple of different DDFL shelters a couple of times each. I watched the cats. I read their names and what history the DDFL had on them. I learned of their medical and emotional issues.

In the very room you see on KittenCam, I fell in love with my Quill and Lucy.¶¶¶ I watched them climb and hide and rub noses and I knew this was the pair I was seeking. The DDFL rep brought them into a room with me so I could get a little one-on-one and we all three were hooked.###

I had to fill out paperwork promising to take care of them and allowing that the DDFL could inspect my home for cat suitability and repossess the cats in the event any allegations of abuse or neglect were substantiated.

Then there is a two- or three-day cooling off period (you can't take them home the second you find them).

Because I was renting, they also had to get the OK from my landlord for me to have pets.

Then they micro-chipped them and sent them home with me.

My friends came over a couple of nights later to meet and greet and bring kitty treats.

[SUMMARY: A well-conceived process.]

How difficult a transition is it to make to a DDML?††††

Think about it:

-A place where you can watch the men in their habitat for a few days before seeing them in person.
-A place where you can visit them and get a feel for them before you actually mingle with them.
-A place where they have their medical history, emotional state and family history all typed up on a card.
-A place where there are always options for adoption.
-A place where they are electronically marked so you can find them if they stray.
-A place that makes sure you have thought it through and your home is open to the adoption.

Then a forum to meet friends and family all in one fell swoop?

It may be ideal. If only we could get the men into those little cages...

[SUMMARY: I think I'm funny. Don't send Glenn Sacks after me!]

How much would you love to be looking at the DDML SmittenCam right now?

And do you think I should ask Sue to ask Sarah to ask The Spelling Bee Champ to check whether he likes me, yes or no?‡‡‡‡


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): That's much funnier in person. Out loud. Really.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Ange also got a post-grad collegiate rating on her reading level, but it in no way makes me want to stick DPNs up her nose. I'm happy for her continued success and wish her all the best.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): As is evidenced by my classic Nick-Nolte-in-lockup hairdo.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): If you say this with a posh British pronunciation (spěsh'ē-āl'ĭ-tē), I'm pretty sure it will boost my reading level.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Shut up. If you want to stay on the "reasonable and sane" train with me, you have to stop laughing.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Oh, yeah. This may look a little like social commentary, but it's all about me.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): And -- it seemed -- sincerely...

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): For easier viewing!

§§FOOTNOTE (dizzy, head-spinning smooches): No, you've never heard of them. Just detail for the sake of authenticity.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (like tuning pegs on a guitar): Not an oxymoron.

##FOOTNOTE (pounded like an object lesson into your brain): Like the time I was staring at The Boy, daydreaming, largely unaware he was even there, when he said, "What?" in that sorta sexy way that invites a love-nibble of a reply. "Did anyone ever tell you you have really nice teeth?" I said. Wrong-footed. Like that.

†††FOOTNOTE (Calgary? Cavalry? Calvary?): Damnit, stop laughing. Hey, one other point in his favour was that I thought he was about 30 and when he asked, "Do you mind if I ask how old you are?" and I confessed to 40 (thinking I might just be relegating myself to the role of mother figure), he was so visibly relieved because he thought I might be in my 20s and he's 38 and just doesn't have a lot of truck with youngsters. It could happen. I was wearing pigtails.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Perish the thought! He hasn't stopped thinking of me since that night. He's haunted by my wit, my beauty, my curly hair... his work suffers and he loses sleep. Or maybe I'm projecting.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (how many ways can I say "train tracks"?): "Maybe I should ask Sue to ask Sarah if he likes me. Or maybe I should tell Sue to tell Sarah to tell him I thought he was a really good kisser, just in case he thinks I said he was a bad kisser. I really like him. Where's Sue? Do you think I should talk to Sue?"

§§§FOOTNOTE (spinning right out of orbit): Ange regularly and frequently says the funniest, smartest things I hear in any given week. She claims, "...my contribution was the name. I'm just the idea person, I'm not so-much about action or follow-through." Bless you, Angel-eek for letting me steal your idea and provide my own wonky follow-through.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (clubby!): Quill and Lucy were littermates, actual brother and sister, given up by a guy who moved to a rental where he couldn't have both cats and his dog. He chose the dog. He also named the cats "Garth" and "Axl," so his whole mental state may be suspect, but they were well-loved and well-trained kitties, so I bless him a little every time Cat for Scale purrs at me.

###FOOTNOTE (we are taking such a pounding): I don't think Brother was immune, so let's say "all four of us." He started volunteering at the shelter not too long after that.

††††FOOTNOTE (have I ever been this crossed?): None. None difficult transition.

‡‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (we're nearing the Golden Spike): Wasn't this fun? Hasn't it been a long time since I've shared my stupid girl neuroses about boys with you? Don't you wish we could do this more often?


Wow. It's really unfortunate Blogger won't let me put "Dork" in the labels more than once.

101 Reasons Elementary School Level Readers Plotz When They Read My Blog

1. prolixity
2. solecism
3. collegiate
4. cocky
5. hubris
6. voilà
7. imbecile
8. lexical
9. warrants
10. insightful
11. melange
12. cataloguing
13. kharmic
14. diorama
15. conjoined
16. sextuplets
17. spackle
18. aesthetic
19. verdant
20. qiviut
21. fetish
22. limbo
23. detriment
24. chardonnay
25. acoustic
26. fellatio
27. boudoir
28. aborigine
29. idiosyncrasy
30. torchiere
31. Krzyzewski
32. lesbian
33. busser
34. smiting
35. enviroweenily
36. caret
37. succinct
38. nuisance
39. contemplating
40. chronologically
41. riveted
42. mete
43. scoff-laws
44. demoted
45. grueling
46. claustrophobic
47. edification
48. HR 2016
49. stricken
50. disclosure
51. rhetorical
52. retribution
53. exerting
54. collaborative
55. criterion (used correctly, in its singular form)
56. oboe
57. tortellini
58. theology
59. paragon
60. paraphrasing
61. venial
62. bolster
63. martyrdom
64. sanctioned
65. beatitude
66. Lenten
67. deprivation
68. Burundi
69. pundit
70. fraught
71. masturbator
72. critiquing
73. delusional
74. Slavic
75. solidarity
76. exaltation
77. cuisines
78. segueway
79. iridescent
80. evocative
81. sachet
82. serendipity
83. experiential
84. linguistics
85. loath
86. dipthong
87. retrospect
88. indoctrinated
89. sheetrock
90. architectural
91. incompetent
92. cervixes
93. estrogenal
94. doulas
95. macro
96. reprieve
97. groovy
98. inept
99. carnitas
100. Slovenia
101. footnotes

And that's just in the last month.

Where My Peeps At?

First, I want to share my Powerball winnings from last week with you:




Well, not actually share the money, but share the jolly fun of getting a 52¢ return on a $6 investment.

I probably would've shared if I'd won a bazillion dollars too.† The picture would have been more impressive.‡

[SUMMARY: This is as close to Barney as I'm likely to get. Enjoy the moment.]

I'm guessing most of you saw this some time during the Easter season§:




Matt replied when I forwarded it to say, "I think it would be even funnier if they were smoking candy cigarettes and pushing chocolate coins in their little Peep g-strings."

I wondered then just how far I would go for the joke. Would I invest in Peeps and chocolate coins? To what lengths would I go to track down candy cigarettes? How exactly would those blobby little Peeps chickens hold chocolate coins? Could I find a disco ball the size of a tangerine to take it that one step beyond?

Two days later, I got the invitation. We were going to make Peeps dioramas.

[SUMMARY: When good things happen to bad people.]

Apparently, this is a trend sweeping the nation. The Denver Post ran a contest. As did the Washington Post. And the Chicago Tribune. Hell, go Google "peeps diorama," pull up a chair and spend the day.

Several things you should know about hosting a Peeps Diorama Party:

1. Everything is sticky. A readily available source of soap and water is a must.
2. Glue guns. Lots of glue guns.
3. Sharpies don't write on Peeps.
4. Sticks. Sticks of all sizes and shapes. You don't know how useful sticks are until you don't have the stick you need to make the hairdresser Peep perform a comb-out on the Madonna Peep.
5. This is theoretical, but I think having coordinating coloured sugars would be good. All Peeps begin as conjoined sextuplets and the separation leaves ugly scars. A little Peep spackle would aid the aesthetic.

Here are a couple of my favourites:

My cousin Hannah¶...

Made this Peeps skate park entitled "Peep Park." Note the air the purple Peep is getting off the half-pipe. Totally rad.#




Note the extra-special Marin Peep.††




The youngest of our crew (Lisa, I think) made this Peep Sea Fishing display:




And, me being me, I was partial to Peeps in Space‡‡:




Me? I went a little different route.§§




These embiggen real nice. Go ahead, look.¶¶ You know you want to.




Of course, it wouldn't be Easter without the traditional Easter skull in the verdant veil of spring##:




By the way? Peeps are disgusting. They go very well in hot chocolate, however.

[SUMMARY: More fun than marshmallows should be allowed to have.]

Hmmmm. I bet they'd toast up real nice and festive too.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Again, maybe not so much in the "give you money" way as the "see what I got" way.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I may have even converted it to qiviut (I know how to spell "qiviut") just for fun.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Some directly from me. And I think this is a lesson learned: don't give you email addy to the crazy chick with the pig-licking fetish.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Isn't she cute? She also had these pink and pink and grey high tops with raspberry-coloured laces... I considered jumping her in the parking lot and blaming it on local hoodlums.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Or possibly tubular. I'm forty, people. I don't know what skatepunks say these days.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): She has a pony tail. That's how you can tell she's me.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I was too busy scraping the marshmallow film off my jacket, feet and eyelashes to make all the Peeps in Space jokes I wanted to. And the "Jeepers, creepers, where'd you get those Peepers" bit. And the "I only have eyes... eyes... eyes... for you" bit. And the Jabba the Peep bit. And I'm sure something about Uranus. Possibly also something rhyming "penis" with "Venus," though only once the kids had their backs turned.

§§FOOTNOTE (swirled like the beak of a Peep chick): You are so surprised.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (bunny ears!): Why else would they call them "Peeps"?

##FOOTNOTE (dead Peep eyes): I'm probably really lucky the owners of that backboard didn't come to investigate my flash. It wasn't the best neighbourhood.

Sick and Twisted

Talking literally, here, folks.† I had a really spectacular flu the last three days. Poor Steve had it first, and I had to call him Monday to say, "Hey, hope you're feeling better, but I really need to know this is going to be over soon."

It was one of those where I spent a significant amount of time thinking I was going to die and another significant amount of time thinking it may not be the worst thing.

[SUMMARY: That's what she said.]

I've been gone so long... today I feel I'm a stranger‡ in a strange land.

It's going to be disjointed, but we'll all get there together. Without joints.§ And you know what that means...

That pig is gonna get the tongue-bath of his life.

[SUMMARY: That's what she said.]

*************

First, happy Super Tuesday. Go read this book:




I'm a big fan of the "Click Clack Moo" series¶ anyway, but this isn't really a kids' book. Well, maybe. But you'll get more out of it than your five-year-old.

And you can read it standing up at your local B&N.

[SUMMARY: That's what he said.]

*************

Second, happy Super Bowl. Don't drink this:

Me and My Main Shanny doin' what we do best



And maybe you think you have no call to drink Boone's Farm Sangria-Flavoured Wine Product Food Stuff, but, hey... this isn't what I thought I'd be using my college degree for either.

See, our Super Bowl is about tradition. The Elks have been Super Bowling for nearly 20 years. In fact, next year is our 20th anniversary.# Because most of us were just out of college when this whole mess started, a lot of our traditions revolve around alcohol.

Because we're all still wildly immature and in denial about our age,†† we've seen no reason to delete, modify‡‡ or render symbolic+ any of these alcoholic traditions.

These traditions include the National Anthem Chug, in which the *stated* object of the game is to begin chugging a grossly cheap beer§§ at the first note of the anthem, finishing as the anthem finishes. Around, "...does that star-spangled banner yet wave..." it devolves into a highly competitive race to finish first.

These traditions also include the Lonely Guy Hour, which used to mean passing around a bottle of Boone's Farm at half-time, but now means everybody brings four or five bottles, which are cracked right after the national anthem and somewhere around the post-game confetti explosion, someone says, "Gorrdamit! Where's the best of the Roone's Flarm?"

After years of delicate tasting, we have highly sophisticated Boone's Farm palates.

Thusly:

"Where's the pink?¶¶ The pink is really good!"

"Are you high? The pink made me barf. Now, the blue..."

"Oh, dude, the blue SUCKS! Ya gotta get the orange."

"You'd drink that peach shit?"

"Not PEACH, dumbass, ORANGE..."

"Ha! That's what she said!"

Anyway, our verdict is the Sangria is just bad. It actually tastes like blood.##

Also? This year we may have started a new tradition. Y'all twelve-year-olds will appreciate it: just about anytime anybody says anything, answer with, "That's what she said," or the occasionally snarf-worthier, "That's what he said."

Funniest thing ever. I still giggle every time I say it.

Maybe you had to be there.&

[SUMMARY: That's what I said.]

*************

Soldier Boy called Friday night. I think I'm gonna get me some this weekend.

[SUMMARY: WOOOOOOOOOT! I mean... That's what she said!]

*************

At one time, I had a lot of words to impart on the whole Queensryche/Dokken experience. Because it's so far gone, I'm going to give you some bullet points:

• Look! Bullet!
• We got our tickets under face value from a scalper. I didn't know that happened. I felt dangerous and hip and savvy.
• It was the first time in (probably) twenty years that I haven't been vigorously frisked going into a concert. 1) Damnit. It would have been the most action I'd seen in months, and 2) if I'd had a clue, I'd've brought my camera.
• Don Dokken now looks like Kenny Rogers.
• Don Dokken did an all-acoustic set, and all of Dokken's Greatest Hits sound pretty much alike, acoustially presented.
• Don Dokken pulled a Tragedy Vampire on the whole Heath Ledger thing with, "I wasn't going to play anything off the new album,% but this is for a guy... a guy who liked music. And he used a lot of music. And I met him a couple of times..." I will never forget the chorus to the alleged song because I was so intent on memorising it just so I could share with ya'll:

I've been driven by wild horses, dragged beneath their feet.
Why do the children cry? How can we get relief?

• All that said, Don Dokken was personable, friendly, cheerful (other than the Tragedy Vampire portion of the program), played the hits and got off stage. I think I could have a beer with Don Dokken.
• Queensryche rocked. Geoff Tate has lost the tiniest bit off his highest wail, but mostly just rocked like an antiformal syncline.$ They did not do "The Lady Wore Black," though I had a dork moment when I thought they were going to and I turned to Greg and said, "No way. No fucking way." Later, I had to confess I'd failed to recognise some Queensryche hit that sounded a lot like TLWB and Greg said he thought it was TLWB too. So... vindicated.
• Geoff Tate is DEADLY serious about his work. While that often makes art and culture more laughable, I came to the conclusion that if he wasn't so very, very serious, his work would be a joke.
• Geoff Tate doesn't cuss. Not so much as a "hell" or a "damn." Particularly in contrast to Don Dokken's every-other-word-is-fuck, it was kinda refreshing.
• Reservoir tip ski hats are back in. Half the roadies were wearing them, but I also saw a couple of escaped Abercrombie & Fitch models in front of us and one was wearing a Dolce & Gabbana reservoir tip hat and I have a strong feeling that if it was five minutes passé, the boy wouldn't be caught dead in it.
• I'm pretty sure the couple to my left at the encore actually had sex. Right there. Next to me. And she was wearing this strappy, complicated, dominatrix thing that took her about ten minutes to get straightened when the lights came up.

[SUMMARY: That's what she said.]

*************

THIS JUST IN:

I received an plane ticket sales email thingie* from Frontier under the heading, "Why Hibernate?" and saying you could escape with low airfare. On the "to/from Denver" list? Anchorage. Chicago. Billings. Rapid City. Detroit.

What exactly am I escaping? And why would I leave hibernation to do it?

[SUMMARY: That's what he said!]

*************

Speaking of concerts, did I mention Rush? At Red Rocks?@ I got my ticket last week. $120. Fuck me.^

So I guess I won't be leaving the eighties any time this year. It's a total celebration of lack of maturation.

[SUMMARY: That's what she said.]

*************

While I was sick, I spent a lot of time in front of the TiVi,††† and this is on Comcast On-Demand. Watch it:



*************

Dang. I'm sure there's lots more. I'll probably have to lick that lucky pig tomorrow.

[SUMMARY: All together now: THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!]


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I know you're used to my metaphorical... um... flights of fancy and purple prose whatsits, but there I was, sick (throwing up every hour on the hour for 22 hours) and twisted (wrapping myself around the toilet in new ways I never I could manage).

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Well, even stranger than usual.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Not those kind. If you ever saw me stoned, you'd know why I never, ever mean *those* kind. Mentally, I went straight to Lyda's zombies.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Don't judge. Anyone who has kids or has bedtimed for, "Read it again. Read it again. Read it again," appreciates a book you can both appreciate.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): There will be T-shirts.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Except for some of the guys whose daughters are rapidly approaching teenage-hood. Ah, Mateo... this is where you get it back for all your slick, horn-dog years.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): At least not to save our souls and livers.

+FOOTNOTE (plussed): You know... like substituting Crystal Light for Boone's Farm or tossing confetti instead of our cookies.

§§FOOTNOTE (now, there's a nice, tight spiral... that's what she said): In honour of our humble beginnings.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (two bottles for the price of one!): Because Boone's Farm, like Gatorade, doesn't so much come in flavours as colours.

##FOOTNOTE (pounded like a Patriot): Well, Blood-Flavoured Wine Food Product Stuff, in any case.

&FOOTNOTE (ampersanded): I will, of course, be forcing it down your throat for the rest of the post. *pause* *think* *giggle* That's what he said!

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Yes, Don Dokken has a new album coming out. Acoustic. All new stuff. Seriously.

$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): A little geology humour for those of you who are so inclined. Or synclined. Or anticlined, if you'd rather. Gosh, I think I'm funny.

*FOOTNOTE (asterisked, if you can believe that): Plane Ticket Sales Email Thingie® Frontier Airlines. All saints preserve us.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): The place where U2's "Sunday Bloody Sunday" video was shot. You know, where the girl in the polar bear jacket mauls Bono, then he waves a flag.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): That's what he said.

†††FOOTNOTE (triple your pleasure): Except for Monday, when I spent a lot of time in front of the toilet and the rest of the time chasing ducks in fever delusions. Fever delusions are kinda cool.