MonsterVision

In stunning Technicolor™!

The Monster came to live with me just before Easter.% We spent a happy day playing with my new camera† and these are the results.




We started with a glamour shot‡ by the train yard.




A train came by. And the conductor *waved* at us. It may be the single greatest moment in Monster history.




LoDo§ from the wrong side of the tracks.




There was some construction we watched for awhile. They were assembling a crane.




Like this. O hai! Crane!




We headed west past the skate park¶ to stand on the bridge over the South Platte.




A nice bicyclist thought I looked awkward holding The Monster at arm's length# to get a good river picture, so he stopped to help. Not a lot of monsters wave at train conductors and make new friends all in one day.††




It was time to get down to some serious art.‡‡ Like Common Ground, the picturesque stairway to nowhere.




We started on one side of the stairway.




Took in some rays.




Used all our America's Next Top Model training to work with our surroundings.




Played with camera angles.

Climbed the stairs, crested the summit and found a bunch of irritated, stoned emo kids hiding from the cold, cruel world there. Stepped over them and went down the other side.




Kiss the ground, we made it.




Took a moment in the shade.




"I win!"




Oh, no! MONSTER JAIL!




Braved trespass charges§§ to sit on someone's front steps.




The Monster would like to conclude with a little Public Service Announcement.¶¶ Remember kids: the more you know...


%FOOTNOTE (percented): A gift from someone who knows I am fully capable of stuffed monster wrangling as an art form.

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Canon G12, for those of you scoring at home.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Flowers make everything more glamourous.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Lower Downtown. Used to be a scary industrial area. Now the hub of tragic hipness and kids you want to throw off your lawn.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which we decided to skip. You know how hard it is to get pot smoke residue out of a monster?

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Poor, sweet man; he didn't realise that "awkward" is just my natural state of being.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I can say this, as am now expert on monsters.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): No art is as serious as art you can climb on.

§§FOOTNOTE (boggle): Seriously - I opened a gate and went in for that shot. Totally worth it since I didn't get caught.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (magic wands): Let's just consider that proactive community service to balance out our prior trespassing on private property. Kharma!

Saturday in the Park with Shanny

Some happy Saturdays, Shanny has a morning remote,† then an afternoon of Rockies Radio,‡ with a few hours in between to putter.

Some happy Saturdays, I putter with him.

A couple of Saturdays ago was one of those happy days. We decided to explore the relatively new RiNo§ area of Denver.

Once upon a time, when Coors Field first opened, I used to park on Little Raven and walk across desolate fields and many railroad tracks to get to baseball games.

My, how things have changed. It's shiny lofts, trendy restaurants and Commons Park.

I *love* Commons Park. It reminded me so much of a little, tiny¶ Central Park with its art, water, hills and little nooks where for just a moment, you can walk in the wilderness and forget the city mere yards away.




This is a cool and totally useless bit of art.#




It has lofty meaning...




...and when you get to the top, you reach the stairs and go right back down. It's a ramp to a stairway to nowhere...




...with a window to the sky.††




Anything that purposeless with lines that nice *has* to be art.

[SUMMARY: I know it when I see it.]

There are three bridges all in a row in RiNo.

One goes from Commons Park west across the river. The next goes west across the freeway into the Highlands neighbourhood.‡‡ The other is on the other side, going east across the railroad tracks.

First, we crossed the river.




At the foot of the Highlands Bridge, there's more art.§§




It's called National Velvet¶¶ and it... gleams.

[SUMMARY: Shiny!]

We quickly crossed Highlands Bridge and landed right next to the statuary supermarket.##




We gazed on art in a more classic style†††...




...and found duckies.




Across the street, urban hieroglyphics‡‡‡:




Having exhausted the west end of the bridge continuum, we realised the only thing to do to make our day complete was to cross the easternmost bridge: the Millenium Bridge.

Back across the freeway§§§...




..and across the river and onto the Millenium Bridge, with its ship's mast and starburst of cables.¶¶¶




We watched a train.




I was delighted by the simple ingenuity of the bike grooves on the stairs.###




And we gazed out over downtown Denver. This is Union Station.%




We headed south to 15th, where there's a charming viaduct.@




And more artwork tucked away in a stairwell.




We headed west on 15th back to Little Raven and saw this historic building.




According to the plaque, Historic Building No. 19, which you'd think one could look up on any number of registries, but it was a surprising bitch of a research project to find out what Historic Building No. 19 was all about. There's a lot of tangled information involving David Moffat and his brother and I think I gave Shanny my conclusion too soon.

This building is Moffat Station,^ but was indeed part of Moffat's railway empire. I haven't yet figured out what some of the articles are pointing to when they're talking about his brother's property.

Shanny may be the only person who would understand those last two paragraphs. Carry on.

[SUMMARY: Dot your Ts and cross your Is.]

It was time for Shanny to get back and wire up for the Rockies pre-show. Besides, we were exhausted. A couple of hours of wandering and stairs and bridges and cranes will drive a person to a good night's sleep.

It only seemed appropriate that this was the last artwork we saw on our adventure:




†FOOTNOTE (crossed): As they say on the Colorado Morning News, "...engineer Shannon Scott." And I always talk back to the radio and say, "Hi, Shanny!"

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): 850 KOA, home of your Rockies, Broncos and Buffs.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): River North.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): ...itty, bitty, wee, miniscule, a percentage of a percentage...

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Not entirely unlike the scene above it -- Shanny called it Windows desktop -- but more abstract.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Though I like to think it's some sort of solar calendar thingie that tells us when to sacrifice the virgins.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Home of your dear ol' AntiM.

§§FOOTNOTE (that's me, shaking my head): Um... "art."

¶¶FOOTNOTE (*headbonk*): Of COURSE it is.

##FOOTNOTE (I got your number): Not its real name.

†††FOOTNOTE (a tres of statuary): read: with boobs. I had a statuary penis too, but in a fit of feminism I forgot to upload it.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (on the wrong track): Pie, house plant, coffee, saucepan?

§§§FOOTNOTE (turn around and around): You may notice I have a thing for architectural stuff. I have whole volumes of vacation photos that are nothing but brick walls and trestles.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (not using my head head head): Any decent tourguide would have taken a picture of the mastiness of the bridge instead of just the weird up-angle.

###FOOTNOTE (three pounds of impressed in a two pound bag): I am so easily amused.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): With a crane.

@FOONOTE (atted): And another crane.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Dear Shanny, in case you're reading this, I don't even remember David Moffat's brother's name, but it isn't his house.

To Lick or Not to Lick...

...that is the question;
Whether 'tis nobler in the teat to suffer
The flings and nuzzles of outrageous insemination,
Or to take to trotters against a sea of fondles,
And by opposing, end them.

You thought I was kidding about pig sex, didn't you?†

----- Original Message -----

From: Kim
To: Marin
Sent: Monday, May 11, 2009 4:01:11 PM
Subject: Thought of You‡

So, I'm reading Bonk, right? And I'm on the chapter about artificial insemination of pigs, right? (I'll save the discussion of "uterine upsuck" for another time.) And appears this paragraph:

[A] training video . . . includes a shot of a[n] inseminator lying on a sow, his chest pressed against back. With one hand, he reaches down beneath her to rub her mammaries and squeeze her teats. One of the less prominently known similarities between pigs and men: They both fondle breasts. No other animals on the planet do this.

Do with this what you will. No information is good or bad on its own; it's how we use it that makes the difference.

Kim


Ears... bleeding

Nose... glowing

Head... exploding

Like a geek in an Apple store,§ I don't know where to begin.

Do I go with the "men are pigs" angle? Do I go topical with a swine flu thing? Then there's the whole "lick the pig" schtick... surely I'd be remiss if I didn't give a nod to licking the pig. And don't get me started on why we haven't yet discussed "uterine upsuck".¶ Or how badly I need a copy of "Bonk."

So let me simply leave you with this thought:

Similarities between men# and pigs continue to pile up.†† Is it a conspiracy of the vast pork products industry that the clear fact that people are descended from pigs rather than chimpanzees has been buried for so long?

[SUMMARY: All my science comes from Mythbusters.]

Ay, there's the rub.‡‡


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I'm giving myself more credit for grace than I deserve. I'm sure when you read there was going to be pig sex in a later post, you yawned and got yourself another cup of coffee.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Kim and I could probably publish a book filled with our "Thought of You" emails. We think a lot of each other.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): "Kid in a candy store," too hackneyed. "Pardoned prisoner in a whorehouse," too on point.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which, as Dave Barry says, would be an excellent name for a rock band.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And here I mean "mankind."

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Pigs are said to be clean and intelligent and solicitous of their young, but more importantly people apparently taste a lot like pork -- long pig : people :: veal : baby cows -- and any time the Mythbusters need a human body analog, they use a pig carcass.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): You can't imagine how impressed I am with my own use of Shakespeare today.

Shine On, Harvest Moon

Waiting for the elevator, Wednesday morning.

Lorain: How long have you been at St. Mary?

Marin: Almost a year-and-a-half. I showed up July 2007.

L: Wow. It seems like you've been here forever.

The elevator arrives.

M: Some days, I would totally agree with you.

ride ride ride

L: Your floor. Have a good day.

M: You too, Lorain.

L: Oh, no! Marin, your...

Elevator doors close.

I batted at my hair, tried to look down my back, brushed my shoulders to remove spiders or other things that would make Lorain go, "Oh, no!"

I walked back toward my office and stopped off next door.

"Avis, do I have something on my back? Or in my hair?"

"No, I don't see anything."

"Maybe I got it, then. Lorain tried to catch me, but the elevator doors closed before she could tell me what was wrong."

"Looks OK to me."

I turned to walk out of her office.

"Oh, no..."

"That's what Lorain said."†

"You have a rip in your pants. Your butt is showing."‡

I reached down and sure enough.¶ Pasty white butt flapping in the breeze.§

So I yanked my sweater down, crab-walked to the break room and grabbed the sewing kit. I locked myself in the office and sat half-naked in my chair in my downtown corporate office,# mending the rip.

The good news? The repair job was invisible.

The bad news? Lorain may be scarred for life.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Yes, I did think, "That's what she said." Thank you for asking.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Thong. So you don't have to ask.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): This is not the first time. You may remember a blogpost cleverly titled "Ass." Same rip, same place. Apparently, the stitching on the pockets is like a "tear here" perforation over time.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): In the interest of full disclosure (heheheheh), when I got out of the car that morning, I had a weird feeling that turned out to be a pair of underwear stuck inside the leg of my jeans. I did not have the weird feeling that I was mooning all of downtown as I walked to the office.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): An experience I highly recommend if you can find a way to swing it.

The Dew is on the Denverish

I am having one of those days.

One of those days where the pain -- the career pain, the political pain, the spiritual pain, the PMS pain, the nagging little stitch in my lower back because I keep forgetting to sit back in my chair, the pain of curly hair, the heartache of dry skin, the angst of impending holidays, the continuing popularity of Paris Hilton, the torture that is bad coffee, the fleeting days, the sorrow of ages...

Besides, I haven't done the obligatory blogtour of autumn, so here's my contribution. Click to embiggen.

Don't ask me how much I love the last photo. You'll fear for my soul.













Happy Thursday.