If they really loved me, they'd fix the labour dispute and let me believe in a 2011 season.
"Fantasy Football" is taking on sinister meaning.
Showing posts with label Football. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Football. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
The NFL Wishes Me a Happy Birthday
If they really loved me, they'd fix the labour dispute and let me believe in a 2011 season.
"Fantasy Football" is taking on sinister meaning.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
I Have a Story for That
My friend Laura said that was my signature phrase.†
But I do.‡
For 20 years, I have made Chex Mix with M&Ms for the Super Bowl.§ Oh, sure, sometimes I bring something in addition, but always Chex Mix with M&Ms.
Two years ago, we were standing around in Matt's kitchen, reminiscing. Matt brought up that it was our 20th year of Elk Bowl mayhem and we had missed an opportunity to ramp up the festivities for the 20th.
Justice, who is becoming more of an accountant every day,¶ through a series of hand gestures and convoluted explanations, illustrated how the next year would actually be the 20th.
And there was much rejoicing.
Meanwhile, back in my brain...#
Those personalised M&Ms had just come out and I'd been dying to make my own M&Ms. It seemed a match made in silly traditions heaven.
So in January 2010, I ordered the M&Ms with the picture of the elk, the "Elk Bowl XX," "Elks 20 years" and "Elks BBB."††
Five pounds of personalized M&Ms costs about $170.
Just for the record.
So this year, the Supreme Elk sent out an email about the 20th and did we want t-shirts? and let's design some t-shirts and such.‡‡
Justice, frickin' accountant, wrote back to say, "Uh, can you not count? This is the 21st. You missed the 20th."§§
Through a series of emails and convoluted explanations, he illustrated how the previous year had been the 20th.
We'll deal with Justice at the party today.¶¶ Meanwhile, we're saying fuck it## - we don't remember half of them anyway,††† so who cares if it's 20 or 21?
Happy Super Bowl, everybody.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Along with, "I could make that," and "I have this CD."
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Have a story, that is.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): For the love of all that is holy, please sprinkle a whole flock of trademark and copyright and registered trademark stuff on that. There's enough proprietary material in there to keep a flotilla of lawyers happy for years.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): This is not a compliment.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Where it's dark and quiet. You should consider vacationing in there.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Beer Babes Brotherhood
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): "Such" mostly revolving around "t-shirts."
§§FOOTNOTE (rage... swirling...): Must... control... fist of death...
¶¶FOOTNOTE (quack quack): I'm guessing it'll involve Duck Tape and nudity. His, not ours.
##FOOTNOTE (pound the Justice!): Mostly, we're saying, "Fuck him."
†††FOOTNOTE (I can see your house from here): Turns out that's the theme of the t-shirt we eventually agreed upon.
But I do.‡
For 20 years, I have made Chex Mix with M&Ms for the Super Bowl.§ Oh, sure, sometimes I bring something in addition, but always Chex Mix with M&Ms.
Two years ago, we were standing around in Matt's kitchen, reminiscing. Matt brought up that it was our 20th year of Elk Bowl mayhem and we had missed an opportunity to ramp up the festivities for the 20th.
Justice, who is becoming more of an accountant every day,¶ through a series of hand gestures and convoluted explanations, illustrated how the next year would actually be the 20th.
And there was much rejoicing.
Meanwhile, back in my brain...#
Those personalised M&Ms had just come out and I'd been dying to make my own M&Ms. It seemed a match made in silly traditions heaven.
So in January 2010, I ordered the M&Ms with the picture of the elk, the "Elk Bowl XX," "Elks 20 years" and "Elks BBB."††
Five pounds of personalized M&Ms costs about $170.
Just for the record.
So this year, the Supreme Elk sent out an email about the 20th and did we want t-shirts? and let's design some t-shirts and such.‡‡
Justice, frickin' accountant, wrote back to say, "Uh, can you not count? This is the 21st. You missed the 20th."§§
Through a series of emails and convoluted explanations, he illustrated how the previous year had been the 20th.
We'll deal with Justice at the party today.¶¶ Meanwhile, we're saying fuck it## - we don't remember half of them anyway,††† so who cares if it's 20 or 21?
Happy Super Bowl, everybody.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Along with, "I could make that," and "I have this CD."
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Have a story, that is.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): For the love of all that is holy, please sprinkle a whole flock of trademark and copyright and registered trademark stuff on that. There's enough proprietary material in there to keep a flotilla of lawyers happy for years.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): This is not a compliment.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Where it's dark and quiet. You should consider vacationing in there.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Beer Babes Brotherhood
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): "Such" mostly revolving around "t-shirts."
§§FOOTNOTE (rage... swirling...): Must... control... fist of death...
¶¶FOOTNOTE (quack quack): I'm guessing it'll involve Duck Tape and nudity. His, not ours.
##FOOTNOTE (pound the Justice!): Mostly, we're saying, "Fuck him."
†††FOOTNOTE (I can see your house from here): Turns out that's the theme of the t-shirt we eventually agreed upon.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Some NFL Teams Should be Pink*
I am NOT going to talk about what happened at the Broncos Raiders game last week.†
I will, however, make a brief‡ observation on the NFL.
Many of the teams that most need to be pink aren't.§
When all the snide and snark drains away, I still want this:
I have all kinds of good Nintendo stuff,¶ Liberace stuff,# mascara stuff†† and maybe even a bit of knitting stuff.‡‡
Really... stay tuned!§§
*FOOTNOTE (asterisked... no, seriously): That's "pink" as in "Victoria's Secret," not "Pink" as in "Get This Party Started."
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Brother texted me: "What the hell happened? I came in, it was 0-0, I put the groceries away, it was 14-0" While I was answering him, trying to find different ways to say "suck," they scored again. Dr. Doom opted for donuts at Safeway as a viable fun alternative to the game. OK, now I'm really not going to talk about it. And it truly takes a saint not to bitch about such a debacle.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Look how funny I am! I made a panty pun!
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Detroit Lions, I'm looking at you.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Wii! (and in my head that's "wheeeee!" so it's another sort of pun, just doesn't translate well to print)
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Really.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Really.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Shock and awe!
§§FOOTNOTE (the mind boggles. Twice.): This blog is what RSS feed was MADE for.
I will, however, make a brief‡ observation on the NFL.
Many of the teams that most need to be pink aren't.§
When all the snide and snark drains away, I still want this:
I have all kinds of good Nintendo stuff,¶ Liberace stuff,# mascara stuff†† and maybe even a bit of knitting stuff.‡‡
Really... stay tuned!§§
*FOOTNOTE (asterisked... no, seriously): That's "pink" as in "Victoria's Secret," not "Pink" as in "Get This Party Started."
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Brother texted me: "What the hell happened? I came in, it was 0-0, I put the groceries away, it was 14-0" While I was answering him, trying to find different ways to say "suck," they scored again. Dr. Doom opted for donuts at Safeway as a viable fun alternative to the game. OK, now I'm really not going to talk about it. And it truly takes a saint not to bitch about such a debacle.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Look how funny I am! I made a panty pun!
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Detroit Lions, I'm looking at you.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Wii! (and in my head that's "wheeeee!" so it's another sort of pun, just doesn't translate well to print)
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Really.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Really.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Shock and awe!
§§FOOTNOTE (the mind boggles. Twice.): This blog is what RSS feed was MADE for.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Thank you, but...
Why the† Cowboys?
My first true heartbreak as a sports fan came when the Cowboys beat the Broncos in Super Bowl XII.
We had very little money, but my parents rented a motel room in Tabernash‡ because the motel had cable§ TV. In the mountains in 1978, we rarely saw a clear TV picture.
Cowboys. *pffft*
Vapors.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): ... frickin' ...
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): As in "Where in the hell is Tabernash, Colorado?" For those of you scoring at home, I have also lived in "Where in the hell is Gunnison, Colorado?"
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): And colour!
Monday, September 28, 2009
Dr Doom and the Very High Seats
Will the Dr. Doom Fan Club please buckle your collective seatbelts and keep all limbs inside the ride?
Dr. Doom attended his first football game on August 30 when the beloved Broncos played the new† mini-rivals the Chicago Bears.
Here he is, outside the stadium:
Inside the stadium:
On the way in, he observed that, while he had Broncos shirt and Broncos jacket and even Broncos pants, he did not have a Broncos hat.
These are the things that must be remedied.‡
On the ramp, with new cap:
In the stands, apparently after the hot dog:
Dr. Doom didn't seem at all put out to be in stands this high off the ground:
Or this close to the top of the stadium:
To be fair, I doubt he was impressed by the view either, but I'd like to think you would be:
All in all, a successful first outing.
Particularly since, when he said, "AntiM, I wish we could ride back to the car in one of those," pointing at the bicycle rickshaws, "It would be much faster," I promptly turned around and hired a rickshaw for the boy.‡
Look at those big, blue eyes. If those big, blue eyes looked up at you and said "AntiM,"§ would you say no?
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Nothing like the hated Raiders, of course (*cough*23to3*cough*), but our idiot former QB is now throwing for the Bears, so we just don't think that highly of them.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): *cough*indulgent aunt*cough*... does anybody have a lozenge?
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Even if your name is Kim or Laurie or Leslie or Sarah or Kari...
Dr. Doom attended his first football game on August 30 when the beloved Broncos played the new† mini-rivals the Chicago Bears.
Here he is, outside the stadium:
Inside the stadium:
On the way in, he observed that, while he had Broncos shirt and Broncos jacket and even Broncos pants, he did not have a Broncos hat.
These are the things that must be remedied.‡
On the ramp, with new cap:
In the stands, apparently after the hot dog:
Dr. Doom didn't seem at all put out to be in stands this high off the ground:
Or this close to the top of the stadium:
To be fair, I doubt he was impressed by the view either, but I'd like to think you would be:
All in all, a successful first outing.
Particularly since, when he said, "AntiM, I wish we could ride back to the car in one of those," pointing at the bicycle rickshaws, "It would be much faster," I promptly turned around and hired a rickshaw for the boy.‡
Look at those big, blue eyes. If those big, blue eyes looked up at you and said "AntiM,"§ would you say no?
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Nothing like the hated Raiders, of course (*cough*23to3*cough*), but our idiot former QB is now throwing for the Bears, so we just don't think that highly of them.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): *cough*indulgent aunt*cough*... does anybody have a lozenge?
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Even if your name is Kim or Laurie or Leslie or Sarah or Kari...
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Drive-By
Just so's you know my head hasn't exploded yet, here I am.
One of these days I'm going to load the last month's worth of pictures in one giant *blurgh* of photojournalism,† but for now, let me tell you a little story and share a link.
Sunday was the Broncos home opener.‡ I don't have a parking pass, but the boss's FIL has vintage season tickets and VIP parking. The boss took his son, but they live right on the very spiffy light rail line to the stadium, so they decided to go the public trasportation route.
Thus, I got the VIP parking pass.
We got to the lot I parked near the entrance, which makes for a longer walk, but a much quicker getaway when the game is over. This was really good thinking, only I forgot one key element: I pulled into the space head-in.
When we got back to the car after the game, I realised my error. Not only was I going to have to rely on the kindness of strangers to back all the way into the traffic lane, I was going to have to back to my right with an empty space on my right and a giant truck on my left... exactly the wrong configuration for my needs.
AND... it turns out that when you are flanked by two giant trucks -- even if one of them is a full parking space removed from you -- and your head is sunk deep in truck territory, it' really hard to see oncoming traffic anyway.
After a moment, I realised I drive a Mini Cooper.§
I backed all the way to the end of the parking space, turned the wheel hard right and proceeded to execute a perfect seven-point turn.¶ When I had completed this feat, Kelley poked me and pointed at the small crowd that had gathered to watch the magic of the Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World.
Amazement, applause and quite possibly the best object lesson in why a tiny little car is one of the best accessories a sports fan can have.
*************
An email exchange:
From: eBeth
To: Marin
Subject: Now here's a textile for you!#
http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2009/09/spider-silk/
From: Marin
To: eBeth
Subject: Re: Now here's a textile for you!
Holy cats. It's like my best dream spun out of my worst nightmare.
Plus... bulletproof shawl!
From: eBeth
To: Marin
Subject: Now here's a textile for you!
Surely there's a pithy maxim buried in there somewhere. If life gives you spiders, make a shawl....
*************
I don't know about all y'all, but this makes way more sense than that lemon thing.††
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Y'know... a pod of whales, an oodle of cupcakes, a *blurgh* of photojournalism.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): You may have noticed.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Two points for effort, Captain Obvious!
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): If you think there's no such thing as a perfect seven-point turn, well... you really need to see me in action.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): *WARNING!* Giant spider alert! Sarah should proceed with caution!
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I don't believe life has ever handed me lemons, but it's handed me innumerable spiders. Lemons would, in fact, be a nice change, and would require no sugar-coating (heheheh) to be a big step up.
One of these days I'm going to load the last month's worth of pictures in one giant *blurgh* of photojournalism,† but for now, let me tell you a little story and share a link.
Sunday was the Broncos home opener.‡ I don't have a parking pass, but the boss's FIL has vintage season tickets and VIP parking. The boss took his son, but they live right on the very spiffy light rail line to the stadium, so they decided to go the public trasportation route.
Thus, I got the VIP parking pass.
We got to the lot I parked near the entrance, which makes for a longer walk, but a much quicker getaway when the game is over. This was really good thinking, only I forgot one key element: I pulled into the space head-in.
When we got back to the car after the game, I realised my error. Not only was I going to have to rely on the kindness of strangers to back all the way into the traffic lane, I was going to have to back to my right with an empty space on my right and a giant truck on my left... exactly the wrong configuration for my needs.
AND... it turns out that when you are flanked by two giant trucks -- even if one of them is a full parking space removed from you -- and your head is sunk deep in truck territory, it' really hard to see oncoming traffic anyway.
After a moment, I realised I drive a Mini Cooper.§
I backed all the way to the end of the parking space, turned the wheel hard right and proceeded to execute a perfect seven-point turn.¶ When I had completed this feat, Kelley poked me and pointed at the small crowd that had gathered to watch the magic of the Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World.
Amazement, applause and quite possibly the best object lesson in why a tiny little car is one of the best accessories a sports fan can have.
*************
An email exchange:
From: eBeth
To: Marin
Subject: Now here's a textile for you!#
http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2009/09/spider-silk/
From: Marin
To: eBeth
Subject: Re: Now here's a textile for you!
Holy cats. It's like my best dream spun out of my worst nightmare.
Plus... bulletproof shawl!
From: eBeth
To: Marin
Subject: Now here's a textile for you!
Surely there's a pithy maxim buried in there somewhere. If life gives you spiders, make a shawl....
*************
I don't know about all y'all, but this makes way more sense than that lemon thing.††
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Y'know... a pod of whales, an oodle of cupcakes, a *blurgh* of photojournalism.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): You may have noticed.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Two points for effort, Captain Obvious!
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): If you think there's no such thing as a perfect seven-point turn, well... you really need to see me in action.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): *WARNING!* Giant spider alert! Sarah should proceed with caution!
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I don't believe life has ever handed me lemons, but it's handed me innumerable spiders. Lemons would, in fact, be a nice change, and would require no sugar-coating (heheheh) to be a big step up.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Shhhhh...
...I'm supposed to be working.
Only, we had our fantasy draft last night and I got to keep the premier player in the whole of the NFL,† but ended up drafting a stoopid quarterback‡ and one player simply to have someone whose bye week is ten.§
Long night.
On the up-side, we've moved our league from CBS Sports to Yahoo, which doesn't just give us great savings,¶ it gives us the ability to use the Toyota Logo Enhancer.
The BOB# is now represented by a demon sheep.††
I'm so happy right now, I could just go back to werk.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Adrian Peterson, who I hope is man enough to carry my whole miserable team.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Kyle Orton. I know. But I thought I should have at least one Bronco and Knowshon Moreno was gone. Besides, my brother kept saying, "Kyle Orton, still on the board," in a very sarcastic tone. I had to shut him up. If the boy ever learns to play, I'm going to look like a flippin' genius.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Hakeem Nicks of the Giants. I don't know either.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): As CBS charged us $170 for the privelege of being able to set our roster set times, apparently.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Beasts of Burden - my fantasy moniker. It's always fun if your initials spell something and "BOB" lends itself well to trash-talking. I once was beating everybody in the league so soundly, I wrote a little Christmas song and having a one-syllable name facilitated that nicely. Also? This year we have a new guy named Robert who is playing under the team name "Lesser Bob." Ask me how much I love that.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I usually use Donkey from Shrek, but a donkey wasn't one of my options. Toyota has an elephant but not a donkey. This could raise political eyebrows among the conspiracy theorists. Oh... and for the record? Toyota offers both a knitting needle in a ball of yarn and a sock as background, but neither one showed up behind the sheep.
Only, we had our fantasy draft last night and I got to keep the premier player in the whole of the NFL,† but ended up drafting a stoopid quarterback‡ and one player simply to have someone whose bye week is ten.§
Long night.
On the up-side, we've moved our league from CBS Sports to Yahoo, which doesn't just give us great savings,¶ it gives us the ability to use the Toyota Logo Enhancer.
The BOB# is now represented by a demon sheep.††
I'm so happy right now, I could just go back to werk.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Adrian Peterson, who I hope is man enough to carry my whole miserable team.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Kyle Orton. I know. But I thought I should have at least one Bronco and Knowshon Moreno was gone. Besides, my brother kept saying, "Kyle Orton, still on the board," in a very sarcastic tone. I had to shut him up. If the boy ever learns to play, I'm going to look like a flippin' genius.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Hakeem Nicks of the Giants. I don't know either.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): As CBS charged us $170 for the privelege of being able to set our roster set times, apparently.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Beasts of Burden - my fantasy moniker. It's always fun if your initials spell something and "BOB" lends itself well to trash-talking. I once was beating everybody in the league so soundly, I wrote a little Christmas song and having a one-syllable name facilitated that nicely. Also? This year we have a new guy named Robert who is playing under the team name "Lesser Bob." Ask me how much I love that.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I usually use Donkey from Shrek, but a donkey wasn't one of my options. Toyota has an elephant but not a donkey. This could raise political eyebrows among the conspiracy theorists. Oh... and for the record? Toyota offers both a knitting needle in a ball of yarn and a sock as background, but neither one showed up behind the sheep.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Hooray Football!
Don't get me wrong, the Rockies have given me a little something to hold onto through the long, dark days of summer and I'm grateful.
Golf has been pretty good, though Tom Watson missed it by * * that much and my boy Phil was out for a chunk of the season.
[SUMMARY: Sports summary. ESPN needs me.]
But it's time.
I fancy I can feel a nip in the air† and see that particular slant of the light that means the season is changing. Maybe not quite from summer to autumn, but from baseball to football.‡
Did I mention I'm a Denver Broncos season ticket holder now?
[SUMMARY: *wham!* Bad horse! Get up! *wham!* *wham!*]
Because of the, y'know, mail thing, I set up my tickets to be picked up at will call.
Last week I called, if you will.§
I took the Mile High Walk through Broncos Country...
...past horses of sky and water¶...
...to the gates of Valhalla, that sacred space I've longed to tread.#
And my dorky little heart almost burst with all the extras.
I would have been content to just get my season tickets in a plain brown wrapper, but, like a good independent sock yarn dyer,†† the Broncos know those little extra touches will keep me coming back for more.‡‡
Here it is, my peeps.% My own personal, long sought, symbolic and literal, plegmatic and devine... my holy grail:
And get this: I had them print my name on them.
For those of you who care nothing and know nothing of football, we will return to our regularly-scheduled programming@ next time.
Meanwhile, sit back, relax and enjoy the fact that we didn't talk about chickens for the fourth day running, despite the fact Marybeth§§ got them in the mail yesterday and posted a couple of wee, fuzzy chickie photos¶¶ on Facebook.##
[SUMMARY: Oops.†††]
My grail runneth over.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Despite the fact that the Weather Channel app is telling me it's going to be nearly 90 today. Did I mention I got a phone that has apps?
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Y'know... the seasons that *matter*.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): There is a chance I don't just think I'm funny, I may also think I'm clever.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): The photo doesn't quite show it, but the bronze Italian horses are running up a river.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Like sainthood with shoulder pads and cheerleaders. Ooooh... when I get all my saint points do you think I can get my own cheering section?
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): You may be witnessing the first time the Broncos organisation has been compared to sock yarn dyers.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Because you know if it wasn't for the stickers and the sweepstakes, football would just be unwatchable.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Not to be confused with Marybeth's wee fuzzy chickie peeps.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): I can hear you laughing.
§§FOOTNOTE (I get mixed up sometimes): Who is, indeed, Marybeth, and not Mary Beth as I've been so callously calling her.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (peep peep): And they would look SO fetching in tiny little sweater vests. Oh, and that's pictures of wee fuzzy chickies... not photos of chickies that are the size of a postage stamp and kinda blurry.
##FOOTNOTE (pounding the point home): If you are my Facebook friend, you've probably seen the tiny, fuzzy chickies. If you aren't my Facebook friend, what's keeping you? Tiny, fuzzy chickie pictures, people!
†††FOOTNOTE (it's your cross to bear): Chickengate: Day 4.
Golf has been pretty good, though Tom Watson missed it by * * that much and my boy Phil was out for a chunk of the season.
[SUMMARY: Sports summary. ESPN needs me.]
But it's time.
I fancy I can feel a nip in the air† and see that particular slant of the light that means the season is changing. Maybe not quite from summer to autumn, but from baseball to football.‡
Did I mention I'm a Denver Broncos season ticket holder now?
[SUMMARY: *wham!* Bad horse! Get up! *wham!* *wham!*]
Because of the, y'know, mail thing, I set up my tickets to be picked up at will call.
Last week I called, if you will.§
I took the Mile High Walk through Broncos Country...
...past horses of sky and water¶...
...to the gates of Valhalla, that sacred space I've longed to tread.#
And my dorky little heart almost burst with all the extras.
I would have been content to just get my season tickets in a plain brown wrapper, but, like a good independent sock yarn dyer,†† the Broncos know those little extra touches will keep me coming back for more.‡‡
Here it is, my peeps.% My own personal, long sought, symbolic and literal, plegmatic and devine... my holy grail:
And get this: I had them print my name on them.
For those of you who care nothing and know nothing of football, we will return to our regularly-scheduled programming@ next time.
Meanwhile, sit back, relax and enjoy the fact that we didn't talk about chickens for the fourth day running, despite the fact Marybeth§§ got them in the mail yesterday and posted a couple of wee, fuzzy chickie photos¶¶ on Facebook.##
[SUMMARY: Oops.†††]
My grail runneth over.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Despite the fact that the Weather Channel app is telling me it's going to be nearly 90 today. Did I mention I got a phone that has apps?
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Y'know... the seasons that *matter*.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): There is a chance I don't just think I'm funny, I may also think I'm clever.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): The photo doesn't quite show it, but the bronze Italian horses are running up a river.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Like sainthood with shoulder pads and cheerleaders. Ooooh... when I get all my saint points do you think I can get my own cheering section?
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): You may be witnessing the first time the Broncos organisation has been compared to sock yarn dyers.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Because you know if it wasn't for the stickers and the sweepstakes, football would just be unwatchable.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Not to be confused with Marybeth's wee fuzzy chickie peeps.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): I can hear you laughing.
§§FOOTNOTE (I get mixed up sometimes): Who is, indeed, Marybeth, and not Mary Beth as I've been so callously calling her.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (peep peep): And they would look SO fetching in tiny little sweater vests. Oh, and that's pictures of wee fuzzy chickies... not photos of chickies that are the size of a postage stamp and kinda blurry.
##FOOTNOTE (pounding the point home): If you are my Facebook friend, you've probably seen the tiny, fuzzy chickies. If you aren't my Facebook friend, what's keeping you? Tiny, fuzzy chickie pictures, people!
†††FOOTNOTE (it's your cross to bear): Chickengate: Day 4.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Touchdown!
Let me first say that I do not work for CU.
I admit I consider CU my home team,† but have been largely unable to watch them for their vast suckitude, lo,‡ these many years.
I won't be buying season tickets.
Heck, I'd only go to a game if the tickets were free, someone drove me and I had nothing else to do that day.§
I have no desire, agenda, dog in the hunt, cash incentive, care in the world for *you* to buy CU football tickets
That said, this website/ad for CU season tickets is a variety pack of awesome.¶ I actually got a chill when Coach called me from the end zone. I will be forever grateful to Shanny for sending it my way.
I want to share with you.#
You're welcome.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): College football-wise. I'd go for my alma mater, but they don't really play college football so much as dabble and I *never* get to see them on national television.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I suddenly realise I have no idea how to punctuate "lo."
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Like watch SEC football.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Yes, slightly cheesy, but I found it creative and found myself wondering why we don't have more ad campaigns in this vein.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Because you are the wind beneath my wings.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Easy Like Sunday Morning...
...and on into the night.^
Since we all but stopped celebrating Halloween and New Year's Eve,† the Super Bowl is the Grand Poobah of all parties, the laissez le bon temps roulette‡ of the social season.
That's Brother and Eric, laissezing le bon temps roulette
To refresh your memory, we have been doing this at Matt's house since before he was married.% Next year will be our 20th anniversary.§ It's a wonder we all lived through past Super Bowl parties to reach this milestone.¶
[SUMMARY: C'est la guerre... and it has been a hell of a guerre.]
We have traditions.
We have the National Anthem Chug.# We have jello shots.†† We have cigars.‡‡ We have the Lonely Guy Hour.§§ And we have Matt wearing alternative headgear.¶¶
Matt and Shanny - two of my favourite guys in the world
Matt and Bill##
Matt and Connie
[SUMMARY: Fiddler on the Roof got nothin' on us.]
I may never have mentioned it, but as an oil brat,††† we moved like the military when I was a kid. At least every three years, whether we needed it or not. Brother went from first grade through high school with the same kids. I went to seven different elementary schools.‡‡‡
The people you see in the pictures above have been my friends for nearly 30 years.§§§ To me, that's really something.
[SUMMARY: Awwwww...]
And the fact that we're all still alive I think proves miracles happen.¶¶¶
Saint points?###
^FOOTNOTE (careted): I am NOT easy. Anymore.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Damned kids.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): A reminder: Lent is just around the corner!
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Long live the Elks: Beer, Babes and Brotherhood.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I will be preparing my special Chex Mix with M&Ms, as always, only I will be using personalised M&Ms with pictures and beer references on them.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Cornflakes in beer for Sunday breakfast, 24-hour Shot Clock (one shot every hour until kick-off), 15-minute war (full contact, drunken football at halftime)...
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Wherein all contestants chug cheap beer (hence the empty Hamm's case prominently displayed in the Matt in the Hat gallery). The idea is ostensibly to start when the anthem starts and finish with the Home of the Brave, only by "by the dawn's early light," it's become a race. When we're done, we throw our cans with mighty force against the nearest available wall.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Amy is now in charge of making Jello shots, which are downed with each score. Or when we want. Now that 'most everybody has kids, we've had to educate them in good Jello and bad Jello (conversation with Dr. Doom: "AntiM, where's the Jello?" "You know you can't have any of that stuff, right?" "Yes, but I just want to SEE it."). The Jello shots were so stout this year, I suggested that if any of the kids scraped a knee, we could slap a Jello shot on the wound, which would both seal it and disinfect it.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Now, now... sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
§§FOOTNOTE (whip that bottle 'round, pass 'er 'round again): Which started as a melodramatic bonding experience amongst the lonely guys (duh). Now the only vestige of the original Lonely Guy Hour is the passing of many, many bottles of many, many colours of Boone's Farm "wine."
¶¶FOOTNOTE (stick men with hats, how appropriate): I feel compelled, since Matt is a school board president, to point out that 1) he did not put the Hamm's hat on his head; someone did that for him, and 2) that is a big ol' cup of water he's drinking in that last photo.
##FOOTNOTE (what IS this number?): Bill's last name is Prince. I put he and Amy in my phone as Prince, which meant I had a weird little interlude months later where I tried to remember why I had Prince's number in my phone -- or why I thought I had Prince's number.
†††FOOTNOTE (three landmen, all in a row): It's not just me. It's congenital. Dad, Brother and I all landman.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (a little off track): When I was five, public schools in our city (Midland, Texas) didn't offer kindergarten, so everbody went to private kindergartens. That "seven" doesn't include either the Catholic kindergarten I ended up at (we are not Catholic) nor the kindergarten I got kicked out of.
§§§FOOTNOTE (to everything turn, turn turn): And someone still has the negatives, so I have to be nice.
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (riot police): Someday I'll tell you about the malatov cocktails and the SWAT team.
###FOOTNOTE (in for a penny, in for three pounds): I graduated from college with 224 credit hours not because I stayed in school for ten years, not because I took classes year-round... no, I graduated with 224 credit hours because I negotiated credit hours for every single thing I did in the four years I was in college -- all my summer jobs, working at the radio station, writing for the newspaper, living behind a laundromat... If anybody's going to weasel out a few extra saint points, it's me.
FOOTNOTES: 609 words
ACTUAL POST: 229 words
Since we all but stopped celebrating Halloween and New Year's Eve,† the Super Bowl is the Grand Poobah of all parties, the laissez le bon temps roulette‡ of the social season.
That's Brother and Eric, laissezing le bon temps roulette
To refresh your memory, we have been doing this at Matt's house since before he was married.% Next year will be our 20th anniversary.§ It's a wonder we all lived through past Super Bowl parties to reach this milestone.¶
[SUMMARY: C'est la guerre... and it has been a hell of a guerre.]
We have traditions.
We have the National Anthem Chug.# We have jello shots.†† We have cigars.‡‡ We have the Lonely Guy Hour.§§ And we have Matt wearing alternative headgear.¶¶
Matt and Shanny - two of my favourite guys in the world
Matt and Bill##
Matt and Connie
[SUMMARY: Fiddler on the Roof got nothin' on us.]
I may never have mentioned it, but as an oil brat,††† we moved like the military when I was a kid. At least every three years, whether we needed it or not. Brother went from first grade through high school with the same kids. I went to seven different elementary schools.‡‡‡
The people you see in the pictures above have been my friends for nearly 30 years.§§§ To me, that's really something.
[SUMMARY: Awwwww...]
And the fact that we're all still alive I think proves miracles happen.¶¶¶
Saint points?###
^FOOTNOTE (careted): I am NOT easy. Anymore.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Damned kids.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): A reminder: Lent is just around the corner!
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Long live the Elks: Beer, Babes and Brotherhood.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I will be preparing my special Chex Mix with M&Ms, as always, only I will be using personalised M&Ms with pictures and beer references on them.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Cornflakes in beer for Sunday breakfast, 24-hour Shot Clock (one shot every hour until kick-off), 15-minute war (full contact, drunken football at halftime)...
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Wherein all contestants chug cheap beer (hence the empty Hamm's case prominently displayed in the Matt in the Hat gallery). The idea is ostensibly to start when the anthem starts and finish with the Home of the Brave, only by "by the dawn's early light," it's become a race. When we're done, we throw our cans with mighty force against the nearest available wall.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Amy is now in charge of making Jello shots, which are downed with each score. Or when we want. Now that 'most everybody has kids, we've had to educate them in good Jello and bad Jello (conversation with Dr. Doom: "AntiM, where's the Jello?" "You know you can't have any of that stuff, right?" "Yes, but I just want to SEE it."). The Jello shots were so stout this year, I suggested that if any of the kids scraped a knee, we could slap a Jello shot on the wound, which would both seal it and disinfect it.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Now, now... sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
§§FOOTNOTE (whip that bottle 'round, pass 'er 'round again): Which started as a melodramatic bonding experience amongst the lonely guys (duh). Now the only vestige of the original Lonely Guy Hour is the passing of many, many bottles of many, many colours of Boone's Farm "wine."
¶¶FOOTNOTE (stick men with hats, how appropriate): I feel compelled, since Matt is a school board president, to point out that 1) he did not put the Hamm's hat on his head; someone did that for him, and 2) that is a big ol' cup of water he's drinking in that last photo.
##FOOTNOTE (what IS this number?): Bill's last name is Prince. I put he and Amy in my phone as Prince, which meant I had a weird little interlude months later where I tried to remember why I had Prince's number in my phone -- or why I thought I had Prince's number.
†††FOOTNOTE (three landmen, all in a row): It's not just me. It's congenital. Dad, Brother and I all landman.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (a little off track): When I was five, public schools in our city (Midland, Texas) didn't offer kindergarten, so everbody went to private kindergartens. That "seven" doesn't include either the Catholic kindergarten I ended up at (we are not Catholic) nor the kindergarten I got kicked out of.
§§§FOOTNOTE (to everything turn, turn turn): And someone still has the negatives, so I have to be nice.
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (riot police): Someday I'll tell you about the malatov cocktails and the SWAT team.
###FOOTNOTE (in for a penny, in for three pounds): I graduated from college with 224 credit hours not because I stayed in school for ten years, not because I took classes year-round... no, I graduated with 224 credit hours because I negotiated credit hours for every single thing I did in the four years I was in college -- all my summer jobs, working at the radio station, writing for the newspaper, living behind a laundromat... If anybody's going to weasel out a few extra saint points, it's me.
FOOTNOTES: 609 words
ACTUAL POST: 229 words
Friday, December 5, 2008
Pig Licking in Space
TTHFCIF
Ah, Friday.
Friday with its promise of exotic weekend fun and its propensity for blogquizzes, memes and pig-licking.
[SUMMARY: You can dress a pig up. It's still a pig.]
*************
I *am* knitting.
Only, I'm knitting the ubiquitous Noro stripey scarf and I would be too embarrassed to post a WIP photo.† I may even be too embarrassed to post it when it's finished. It's just been so... done.‡
There's also the Purple Prose scarf, which hasn't seen a frogging since the dropped-stitch mishap of two weeks ago and is well over half done. As you know, pictures of unblocked lace tend to look like yarn barf or crumpled tissue,% so I'm foregoing that pleasure as well.§
But this is still a knitblog and I am still knitting. You'll just have to take my word for it.
[SUMMARY: I don't ask much.]
*************
I went to theBroncosRaiders game a couple of weeks ago. It is the first sporting event I've left before the buzzer since¶ I missed watching a Buffs comeback in 1990# because the Air Force precision drill team on whose ticket I went wanted to beat traffic.††
It was that abyssmal.
I took all the festive photos, just like last year. In the end, this may be the only picture of note:
It looks a little like a Koolhaas licensed by the NFL.
[SUMMARY: Go Broncos! Take your stupid cheerleaders with you!]
*************
It's hard to believe, but I think CBS Outdoors has found an even weirder billboard than Chas and Terry.
We've had many lively discussions on this one.
Not just for the concept of, "OK, so I was driving down the road, trying to get to the grocery store before rush hour, when I saw this billboard and it hit me: I can DONATE my boat!"
Not just for the ill-advised colour selection.‡‡
The best conversation was probably the one where we§§ realised that boat has lips and eyes.
I don't know that it's as creepy as Chas and Terry, but I believe it may be more disconcerting.
[SUMMARY: Somebody has too much time on her hands.]
*************
Hans left yesterday for Decorah, Iowa, to take his girfriend to visit her brother, who is attending college there.
This is notable¶¶ for two reasons:
On a cheerful note, I was behind this kindred spirit in traffic the other day:
It's good to have peeps.
*************
I'm not even going to post the perfume bit I'd thought to do today. It's one I smelled while the aforementioned Hans was in the aforementioned Thailand and I thought to myself, "Screw him. I smelled it without him, he left me here to go see Dennis, I'm posting without him."
But then I saw it was a lovely warm, woody, unisex floral that I had billed as "balloon and hot electronics," so I think I'll wait until I can smell again and give it a second chance.
*
*
*
Yeah, next Friday I'll probably just do a meme or a some quiz on which Twilight character§§§ I am.
Or I'll take more cough medicine and *really* make it a party.¶¶¶
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Curse you, Yarn Harlot!
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And you know I'm always looking to be undone.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Another Yarn Harlot observation. I'm not sure whether to curse her for taking all the good ones or bless her for making it easy for me to cop out on lace photos.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You're welcome.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Or 1991. Maybe 1992. In any case, it is one of the two most annoying tales in my repertoire, the other one being how I will never, ever rip the wrapping off a present again since the time I gave into my mother's frustration and ripped the dust jacket of a lovely collector's edition of Alice in Wonderland. There's nothing snottier than a person who is irritating with cause.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): A game now famous, on all the Sports Illustrated lists... a game I get to say, "I was there," when people bring it up, but have to say, "No, I didn't see the ending. It sounded exciting from the parking lot, though."
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Still bitter.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I know purple and yellow are technically contrasting colours and good for things like billboards but... yucch.
§§FOOTNOTE (like shivers up my spine): And by "we," I mean, "I." My minion Mike had just asked, "Why does the boat have lips," and I jumped in to say, "I think that's a lipstick print 'cause somebody kissed the boat 'cause it's a boat angel." Hans said, "No... it has teeth. And there are eyes up on the bridge, too."
I need glasses.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (two notes): My definition of notable, that is.
##FOOTNOTE (tic-tac-toeing the line): I'm not being flip. When your mom has about 200 first cousins and they all have upwards of ten kids, the whole "cousins" issue begins to require some precision to have any meaning at all.
†††FOOTNOTE (you can't be cross with Dennis): Dennis is gay. Given the statistics, he can't possibly be the only gay member of the Ohlert family, but he's the only one who will cop to it. Hey, when a large chunk of your large family is midwestern farming German Catholic, a gay man who runs a museum is like a bird of paradise among daisies.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (follow my train of thought): Or not. He may just sit on the board. Or decorate. Curate is a prettier word.
§§§FOOTNOTE (there is a season, turn, turn, turn): I'm still waiting for someone to tell me why so many witty, intelligent women are so in love with that piece of literary dross.
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (pull the lever, cast your vote): I bet y'all are hoping I don't come up with anything better so you can find out which Twilight character I am.
Ah, Friday.
Friday with its promise of exotic weekend fun and its propensity for blogquizzes, memes and pig-licking.
[SUMMARY: You can dress a pig up. It's still a pig.]
*************
I *am* knitting.
Only, I'm knitting the ubiquitous Noro stripey scarf and I would be too embarrassed to post a WIP photo.† I may even be too embarrassed to post it when it's finished. It's just been so... done.‡
There's also the Purple Prose scarf, which hasn't seen a frogging since the dropped-stitch mishap of two weeks ago and is well over half done. As you know, pictures of unblocked lace tend to look like yarn barf or crumpled tissue,% so I'm foregoing that pleasure as well.§
But this is still a knitblog and I am still knitting. You'll just have to take my word for it.
[SUMMARY: I don't ask much.]
*************
I went to the
It was that abyssmal.
I took all the festive photos, just like last year. In the end, this may be the only picture of note:
It looks a little like a Koolhaas licensed by the NFL.
[SUMMARY: Go Broncos! Take your stupid cheerleaders with you!]
*************
It's hard to believe, but I think CBS Outdoors has found an even weirder billboard than Chas and Terry.
We've had many lively discussions on this one.
Not just for the concept of, "OK, so I was driving down the road, trying to get to the grocery store before rush hour, when I saw this billboard and it hit me: I can DONATE my boat!"
Not just for the ill-advised colour selection.‡‡
The best conversation was probably the one where we§§ realised that boat has lips and eyes.
I don't know that it's as creepy as Chas and Terry, but I believe it may be more disconcerting.
[SUMMARY: Somebody has too much time on her hands.]
*************
Hans left yesterday for Decorah, Iowa, to take his girfriend to visit her brother, who is attending college there.
This is notable¶¶ for two reasons:
- Hans swore, after getting much grief from all quarters for his globe-trotting ways and impeccable timing in leaving for Thailand at precisely the time when we needed two warm bodies battling the bugs of divestiture, that he wasn't going to be gone for the rest of the year. This declaration was quickly followed with, "Well, except for Iowa in November. But that doesn't count." So we refer to this as the Trip that Never Was. And I think that's funny.
- I am related on my mother's side to half of Decorah. Maybe more. One of my favourite first-cousins-once-removed,## Dennis,††† curates‡‡‡ the Porter House Museum there.
On a cheerful note, I was behind this kindred spirit in traffic the other day:
It's good to have peeps.
*************
I'm not even going to post the perfume bit I'd thought to do today. It's one I smelled while the aforementioned Hans was in the aforementioned Thailand and I thought to myself, "Screw him. I smelled it without him, he left me here to go see Dennis, I'm posting without him."
But then I saw it was a lovely warm, woody, unisex floral that I had billed as "balloon and hot electronics," so I think I'll wait until I can smell again and give it a second chance.
*
*
*
Yeah, next Friday I'll probably just do a meme or a some quiz on which Twilight character§§§ I am.
Or I'll take more cough medicine and *really* make it a party.¶¶¶
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Curse you, Yarn Harlot!
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And you know I'm always looking to be undone.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Another Yarn Harlot observation. I'm not sure whether to curse her for taking all the good ones or bless her for making it easy for me to cop out on lace photos.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You're welcome.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Or 1991. Maybe 1992. In any case, it is one of the two most annoying tales in my repertoire, the other one being how I will never, ever rip the wrapping off a present again since the time I gave into my mother's frustration and ripped the dust jacket of a lovely collector's edition of Alice in Wonderland. There's nothing snottier than a person who is irritating with cause.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): A game now famous, on all the Sports Illustrated lists... a game I get to say, "I was there," when people bring it up, but have to say, "No, I didn't see the ending. It sounded exciting from the parking lot, though."
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Still bitter.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I know purple and yellow are technically contrasting colours and good for things like billboards but... yucch.
§§FOOTNOTE (like shivers up my spine): And by "we," I mean, "I." My minion Mike had just asked, "Why does the boat have lips," and I jumped in to say, "I think that's a lipstick print 'cause somebody kissed the boat 'cause it's a boat angel." Hans said, "No... it has teeth. And there are eyes up on the bridge, too."
I need glasses.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (two notes): My definition of notable, that is.
##FOOTNOTE (tic-tac-toeing the line): I'm not being flip. When your mom has about 200 first cousins and they all have upwards of ten kids, the whole "cousins" issue begins to require some precision to have any meaning at all.
†††FOOTNOTE (you can't be cross with Dennis): Dennis is gay. Given the statistics, he can't possibly be the only gay member of the Ohlert family, but he's the only one who will cop to it. Hey, when a large chunk of your large family is midwestern farming German Catholic, a gay man who runs a museum is like a bird of paradise among daisies.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (follow my train of thought): Or not. He may just sit on the board. Or decorate. Curate is a prettier word.
§§§FOOTNOTE (there is a season, turn, turn, turn): I'm still waiting for someone to tell me why so many witty, intelligent women are so in love with that piece of literary dross.
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (pull the lever, cast your vote): I bet y'all are hoping I don't come up with anything better so you can find out which Twilight character I am.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
'Atsa Lotsa
TTHFCIF
So did you like that tease yesterday?
Didja spend many happy hours daydreaming about the possibilities†... over-the-top cocktails, ten-course gourmet dinners, celebrity parties, a meeting with the King of Burundi, wild naked romps?‡
I should've been a marketing major.
This weekend, I am...
*drumroll*
[SUMMARY: The suspense is killing you.§]
...making cheese.
Mozzarella, to be exact.
Did you just what-the-fuck and smack your computer? Sorry 'bout that. I know it's not glamourous, but it's sufficiently odd enough to blog it.¶
A couple of months ago, The Book Club that Changed the World# read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver.
Barbara makes cheese.
Now I want to make cheese.††
So I sent away for the beginner's cheesemaking kit% and book^ and Annie and Tani and eBeth and I are going to make cheese on Sunday.
The first big object lesson in making your own cheese is finding the only way to get milk that isn't ultra-pasteurised is to buy a local brand.
I think there's a "duh" in there somewhere.@
The nice man‡‡ at Robinson's Dairy asked me why I wanted non-ultra-pasteurised milk. I told him you can't make cheese with ultra-pasteurised milk.
I could almost hear the lightbulb go off over his head.
"We've had a few calls lately about that and I had no idea why people were looking for it. That makes sense."
Which means maybe we're not the only people in Denver making cheese this weekend.
Small world.§§
*************
I did my push ups last night. I did ten extra. My butt is killing me.
By the end of this thing, my butt is going to be a veritable stone globe. Not only do I work my butt really hard in the interest of keeping my alignment correct for push ups, I spend roughly 48 hours during football season clenching and doing reverse squats as I drive my team to victory.
I may not play football, but never let it be said I don't participate.
*************
Wanda - BPAL (oil)
Marin says: I'm trying to teach myself not to be surprised when there's a roll-out on oils. I had convinced myself that the primary difference between the BPAL oils and "real" perfumes is the lack of construction. But I guess anything that has more than one ingredient is subject to those ingredients degrading at different rates.
The first blast of Wanda smelled very strongly of a deep, sour red wine before turning into a rose-and-sandalwood sort of smell.
Funny, from an impressionistic distance, it weirdly fruity, like Fruit Stripe gum. What is the alcohol and fake fruit thing?¶¶
Up close, I'm getting an unpleasant licorice and ylang-ylang## I can't abide. If it doesn't improve in a few minutes, I'm washing my arms.
For the record, it did mellow out, but too strong and too sweet for my taste. Enough that I forgot about it and left it until late that night, when it was a ho-hum sweet smell clinging tenaciously to my wrists.
One thing you have to say about the oils: they do stick.
BPAL says: Along with Loviatar, she has become something of a Patron Goddess of all Dominatrixes, Wanda is the breathtakingly beautiful sable-wrapped marble queen of Sacher-Masoch's fantasies. Her scent is a deep red Merlot$ with a faint hint of leather, sexual musk and body heat over crushed roses,$ violets and myrtle.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): That's me, centre of your universe.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): In order of probability.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You may kill me when you see how far I've led you astray.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Keeping in mind that I thought tennis racquets as party favours was good enough to blog. It's a slow season for everybody, isn't it?
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Not as grandiose as it sounds. I made them read The Map that Changed the World early in our history and it was almost universally reviled. This led to the tongue-in-cheek name and the very serious rule that we never, ever read a geology book again.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): See, the book problem doesn't just cover a life overrun with books, it covers the collateral damage my checking account takes with every new book-driven whim I chase.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Which I think of as Fisher Price My First Mozzarella.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): Naturally.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): 'Cause, y'know... the book is about eating locally.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Pat.
§§FOOTNOTE (stir your curds): Still wouldn't want to paint it.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (heads up!): See: One Leaf Clove
##FOOTNOTE (lb lb): I generally like licorice. Maybe in conjunction with ylang-ylang it becomes bad.
So did you like that tease yesterday?
Didja spend many happy hours daydreaming about the possibilities†... over-the-top cocktails, ten-course gourmet dinners, celebrity parties, a meeting with the King of Burundi, wild naked romps?‡
I should've been a marketing major.
This weekend, I am...
*drumroll*
[SUMMARY: The suspense is killing you.§]
...making cheese.
Mozzarella, to be exact.
Did you just what-the-fuck and smack your computer? Sorry 'bout that. I know it's not glamourous, but it's sufficiently odd enough to blog it.¶
A couple of months ago, The Book Club that Changed the World# read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver.
Barbara makes cheese.
Now I want to make cheese.††
So I sent away for the beginner's cheesemaking kit% and book^ and Annie and Tani and eBeth and I are going to make cheese on Sunday.
The first big object lesson in making your own cheese is finding the only way to get milk that isn't ultra-pasteurised is to buy a local brand.
I think there's a "duh" in there somewhere.@
The nice man‡‡ at Robinson's Dairy asked me why I wanted non-ultra-pasteurised milk. I told him you can't make cheese with ultra-pasteurised milk.
I could almost hear the lightbulb go off over his head.
"We've had a few calls lately about that and I had no idea why people were looking for it. That makes sense."
Which means maybe we're not the only people in Denver making cheese this weekend.
Small world.§§
*************
I did my push ups last night. I did ten extra. My butt is killing me.
By the end of this thing, my butt is going to be a veritable stone globe. Not only do I work my butt really hard in the interest of keeping my alignment correct for push ups, I spend roughly 48 hours during football season clenching and doing reverse squats as I drive my team to victory.
I may not play football, but never let it be said I don't participate.
*************
Wanda - BPAL (oil)
Marin says: I'm trying to teach myself not to be surprised when there's a roll-out on oils. I had convinced myself that the primary difference between the BPAL oils and "real" perfumes is the lack of construction. But I guess anything that has more than one ingredient is subject to those ingredients degrading at different rates.
The first blast of Wanda smelled very strongly of a deep, sour red wine before turning into a rose-and-sandalwood sort of smell.
Funny, from an impressionistic distance, it weirdly fruity, like Fruit Stripe gum. What is the alcohol and fake fruit thing?¶¶
Up close, I'm getting an unpleasant licorice and ylang-ylang## I can't abide. If it doesn't improve in a few minutes, I'm washing my arms.
For the record, it did mellow out, but too strong and too sweet for my taste. Enough that I forgot about it and left it until late that night, when it was a ho-hum sweet smell clinging tenaciously to my wrists.
One thing you have to say about the oils: they do stick.
BPAL says: Along with Loviatar, she has become something of a Patron Goddess of all Dominatrixes, Wanda is the breathtakingly beautiful sable-wrapped marble queen of Sacher-Masoch's fantasies. Her scent is a deep red Merlot$ with a faint hint of leather, sexual musk and body heat over crushed roses,$ violets and myrtle.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): That's me, centre of your universe.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): In order of probability.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You may kill me when you see how far I've led you astray.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Keeping in mind that I thought tennis racquets as party favours was good enough to blog. It's a slow season for everybody, isn't it?
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Not as grandiose as it sounds. I made them read The Map that Changed the World early in our history and it was almost universally reviled. This led to the tongue-in-cheek name and the very serious rule that we never, ever read a geology book again.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): See, the book problem doesn't just cover a life overrun with books, it covers the collateral damage my checking account takes with every new book-driven whim I chase.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Which I think of as Fisher Price My First Mozzarella.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): Naturally.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): 'Cause, y'know... the book is about eating locally.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Pat.
§§FOOTNOTE (stir your curds): Still wouldn't want to paint it.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (heads up!): See: One Leaf Clove
##FOOTNOTE (lb lb): I generally like licorice. Maybe in conjunction with ylang-ylang it becomes bad.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
This is the Blog that Never Ends†
My favourite part of last night‡ was when Mike Ditka said JaMarcus Russell was retarded.§
I'm pretty sure that's not very Christian or saintly, but I'm pretty sure I can scrape up some good Satan-based¶ scripture to support my views on the Raiders.
[SUMMARY: St. Marin, my ass.#]
I did, however have a pretty saintly encounter with the push ups last night, and today they hurt.
I fear Wednesday.
[SUMMARY: I bet there's a Greek name for Fear of Push Ups on Wednesday.%]
Hans is gone to Lusk again until Friday. Let us revel in his last perfume review and count the days until he returns.
*************
One Leaf Clove - Cobalt Blends (oil)
Marin says: Ook. At first glance, it's kinda awful. There's a pleasant enough (if banal) floral with a touch of wood to it... but fighting it is a synthetic, kool-aid fruit smell, like something a four-year-old inexplicably likes in his breakfast cereal.
Fortunately, that dissolves away fairly quickly, leaving just a tangy hint in the background under a bed of soft rose cupping a light clove with maybe a touch of bitter orange. But you only get that snorking right up on the wrist -- the impressionistic distance†† is still a little sweet and definitely unremarkable.
Confession: I really loved this around midnight.‡‡ After a long day of wallowing in bed and watching football, it was a really rich, slightly dirty cocoa that made my mouth water.
Scent Scribbles says:§§ Clove, fig, juicy blood orange,$ peach,$ oakmoss and a gossamer drizzle of honey.$
Hans says: Lavender and lemon
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You'd think that some days, when I had nothing to say, I'd just shut up. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed):
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Well, that and the final score.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): If Al Davis isn't Satan, I don't know who is.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Do saints say "ass"?
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Ectaco.com tells me ΑΝΕΒΆΖΩ is Greek for push up, but all the sites agree there are no Wednesdays in Greece. So I have Anebazophobia on Wednesdays.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I'm pretty sure that's the important part. It's what I smell when I'm typing, for instance, or what you might smell if you ran into me at the grocery store.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): That's a long time to wait for the yummy.
§§FOOTNOTE (supply and demand curves): Cobalt Blends no longer has a description, since it was a limited edition. And now you have a good idea of why I bought it. Such a sucker.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Ha! Got one! Mostly becaues I'm counting peach + honey drizzle = Fruity Pebbles.
I'm pretty sure that's not very Christian or saintly, but I'm pretty sure I can scrape up some good Satan-based¶ scripture to support my views on the Raiders.
[SUMMARY: St. Marin, my ass.#]
I did, however have a pretty saintly encounter with the push ups last night, and today they hurt.
I fear Wednesday.
[SUMMARY: I bet there's a Greek name for Fear of Push Ups on Wednesday.%]
Hans is gone to Lusk again until Friday. Let us revel in his last perfume review and count the days until he returns.
*************
One Leaf Clove - Cobalt Blends (oil)
Marin says: Ook. At first glance, it's kinda awful. There's a pleasant enough (if banal) floral with a touch of wood to it... but fighting it is a synthetic, kool-aid fruit smell, like something a four-year-old inexplicably likes in his breakfast cereal.
Fortunately, that dissolves away fairly quickly, leaving just a tangy hint in the background under a bed of soft rose cupping a light clove with maybe a touch of bitter orange. But you only get that snorking right up on the wrist -- the impressionistic distance†† is still a little sweet and definitely unremarkable.
Confession: I really loved this around midnight.‡‡ After a long day of wallowing in bed and watching football, it was a really rich, slightly dirty cocoa that made my mouth water.
Scent Scribbles says:§§ Clove, fig, juicy blood orange,$ peach,$ oakmoss and a gossamer drizzle of honey.$
Hans says: Lavender and lemon
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You'd think that some days, when I had nothing to say, I'd just shut up. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed):
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Well, that and the final score.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): If Al Davis isn't Satan, I don't know who is.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Do saints say "ass"?
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Ectaco.com tells me ΑΝΕΒΆΖΩ is Greek for push up, but all the sites agree there are no Wednesdays in Greece. So I have Anebazophobia on Wednesdays.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I'm pretty sure that's the important part. It's what I smell when I'm typing, for instance, or what you might smell if you ran into me at the grocery store.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): That's a long time to wait for the yummy.
§§FOOTNOTE (supply and demand curves): Cobalt Blends no longer has a description, since it was a limited edition. And now you have a good idea of why I bought it. Such a sucker.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Ha! Got one! Mostly becaues I'm counting peach + honey drizzle = Fruity Pebbles.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Revenge of the Hubris-Sniffing Gods
TTHFCIF
Little Miss Indispensable isn't going to Reno.
Maybe in December.†
The boss called yesterday:
"Is the door to your office closed?"
"Why? What are you going to do to me?"
"Nothing that hasn't been done before."
Which made me laugh. Fortunately for me, I not only *am* twelve, I work with a bunch of twelve-year-olds.‡
Turns out the geologist was way behind everybody else and rushed in with the oil and gas equivalent of "Stop the presses!" yesterday. Thus, nobody is sure where they want to lease anymore, so I'm not going to the federal lease sale.
In Reno.
With the hotel on the river.
With the spa.
With the chocolate mint body scrub.§
When will I learn to knock on wood? Or keep my mouth shut?
[SUMMARY: The gods have nothing better to do than screw with me.¶]
Today, lunch with the girls and a little minor surgery.#
Tomorrow, housecleaning and overnight murder mystery.
Sunday, football and football.
Monday, an all-new blog use†† and the Broncos on Monday Night Football.‡‡
[SUMMARY: I have the skin of a twenty-five-year-old and the schedule of a seventy-two-year-old.]
In happy news, Hans came back yesterday evening, so he's in the office today.
And at least I didn't have to go to Lusk.
*************
Black March - CB I Hate Perfume (water perfume)
Marin says: The first whiff is wet wood in spring. New leaves and rich, black, wet earth quickly follow.
After a few minutes, the green of the leaves disappears and the ubiquitous "white flowers" peek through. At the same time, a drier, dustier earth comes up, smoky.
Eventually, it becomes a lighter scent, still dirty but woodier and lightly floral. It's not exactly patchouli, but the rich sweetness of it -- lighter than the syrupy patchouli oils in a lot of essential blends -- but definitely patchouli.§§
CBIHP says: A fresh clean scent composed of Rain Drops, Leaf Buds, Wet Twigs, Tree Sap, Bark, Mossy Earth and the faintest hint of Spring Flower Bulbs as pretty and bright as rain drops on black twigs in March.¶¶
Hans says: It smells like pine trees. Or gin.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): When the next federal lease sale takes place. Merry Christmas.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): As is evidenced by the big laugh I got from the boss when I closed the phone call with, "I think I need a cigarette."
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): With the chocolate martini.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): How much more hubris? None. None more hubris.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Hysteroscopy. They just won't leave my uterus alone.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): This is my attempt at a teaser. I'm here to tell you you're going to be wildly disappointed if you spend the weekend on the edge of your seat waiting for it.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Have I mentioned in the last ten minutes how delighted I am to have my football back?
§§FOOTNOTE (tendrils and leaves): Imagine my surprise at finding there's apparently no patchouli at all as the perfumier sees it.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (one stanza, two stanzas): On the CB I Hate Perfume website, there is a poem that goes with the scent. Hell, the poem is the *reason* for the scent. Now I'm going to have to try it again because I didn't look at it with an eye to cracking the mystery -- or tracking down the rest of the poem.
Little Miss Indispensable isn't going to Reno.
Maybe in December.†
The boss called yesterday:
"Is the door to your office closed?"
"Why? What are you going to do to me?"
"Nothing that hasn't been done before."
Which made me laugh. Fortunately for me, I not only *am* twelve, I work with a bunch of twelve-year-olds.‡
Turns out the geologist was way behind everybody else and rushed in with the oil and gas equivalent of "Stop the presses!" yesterday. Thus, nobody is sure where they want to lease anymore, so I'm not going to the federal lease sale.
In Reno.
With the hotel on the river.
With the spa.
With the chocolate mint body scrub.§
When will I learn to knock on wood? Or keep my mouth shut?
[SUMMARY: The gods have nothing better to do than screw with me.¶]
Today, lunch with the girls and a little minor surgery.#
Tomorrow, housecleaning and overnight murder mystery.
Sunday, football and football.
Monday, an all-new blog use†† and the Broncos on Monday Night Football.‡‡
[SUMMARY: I have the skin of a twenty-five-year-old and the schedule of a seventy-two-year-old.]
In happy news, Hans came back yesterday evening, so he's in the office today.
And at least I didn't have to go to Lusk.
*************
Black March - CB I Hate Perfume (water perfume)
Marin says: The first whiff is wet wood in spring. New leaves and rich, black, wet earth quickly follow.
After a few minutes, the green of the leaves disappears and the ubiquitous "white flowers" peek through. At the same time, a drier, dustier earth comes up, smoky.
Eventually, it becomes a lighter scent, still dirty but woodier and lightly floral. It's not exactly patchouli, but the rich sweetness of it -- lighter than the syrupy patchouli oils in a lot of essential blends -- but definitely patchouli.§§
CBIHP says: A fresh clean scent composed of Rain Drops, Leaf Buds, Wet Twigs, Tree Sap, Bark, Mossy Earth and the faintest hint of Spring Flower Bulbs as pretty and bright as rain drops on black twigs in March.¶¶
Hans says: It smells like pine trees. Or gin.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): When the next federal lease sale takes place. Merry Christmas.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): As is evidenced by the big laugh I got from the boss when I closed the phone call with, "I think I need a cigarette."
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): With the chocolate martini.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): How much more hubris? None. None more hubris.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Hysteroscopy. They just won't leave my uterus alone.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): This is my attempt at a teaser. I'm here to tell you you're going to be wildly disappointed if you spend the weekend on the edge of your seat waiting for it.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Have I mentioned in the last ten minutes how delighted I am to have my football back?
§§FOOTNOTE (tendrils and leaves): Imagine my surprise at finding there's apparently no patchouli at all as the perfumier sees it.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (one stanza, two stanzas): On the CB I Hate Perfume website, there is a poem that goes with the scent. Hell, the poem is the *reason* for the scent. Now I'm going to have to try it again because I didn't look at it with an eye to cracking the mystery -- or tracking down the rest of the poem.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Summertime and the Livin's Breezy
In the adrenaline rush that comes from believing I have superpowers, I finished frogging† the Father's Day‡ Arrrgyles at the bar last night.§
[SUMMARY: Knitting content two days running. This may be a record.]
On the way home,¶ I stopped off at the newish Red Trolley ice cream shoppe# to sample their product.††
I feel kinda bad for them because they opened around the same time as Little Man -- media darling and neighbourhood hot spot -- but they're just not getting the same buzz.
I like Red Trolley better.‡‡
The adorable dreadlocked blonde girl who waited on me was nice as could be, the ice cream was outstanding and the shoppe is just darned cute -- marble and wood, kinda like an old-fashioned soda fountain.
[SUMMARY: Packaging counts.]
Besides, they have these cups that fit perfectly in the modified-for-American-sodas§§ cup holder in CLCWWW.¶¶
And you get a cookie.
And they're closer than Little Man.
Besides, I always cheer for the underdog.##
*************
Neil Morris Signature Collection - Gotham parfum
Marin says: *sigh* Again, anything oil-based has that heavy smell of smoke, incense, amber, myrrh... whatever it is, it doesn't make me all that happy. The smoky damp cloud on my wrist started out, once again, reminiscent of toilet paper or Ti-D-Bowl to my nose.
I'll admit it's mellowed around the edges over the hours and deepened and flowered. It smells like a California redwood forest near the ocean -- cedar and salt-spray, and I do like that part. If I hold my nose a couple of inches from my skin, I get a hint of rose.
Oils are still just too warm and thick for my liking. Is there some way to cut this stuff to suit my aesthetic?
The Perfumed Court says: One of Neil Morris Vault Scents%, Gotham is based on a memory of an October night in NYC - unusually warm and overcast and foggy, with a sense of mystery and things hidden in the dark.
Gotham has notes of Black Pepper, Yuzu, Rose,$ Narcissus,^ Amber, Pearl Musk, Myrtlewood, Tonka absolute, Labdanum, Russian Leather, Redwood,$ and Ambergris.
Neil Morris says: My inspiration for Gotham was a stroll along a street in Manhattan on what could only be described as a summer evening except for the fact that it was late October! It was unusually warm and overcast evening. It was a bit foggy and the atmosphere had a sense of mystery and of things hidden in the night. All in all a magical evening.
Gotham opens with Top Notes of Black Pepper and Yuzu that merge with Heart Notes of Rose and Narcissus. The Base Notes include Ambergris, Myrtlewood, Russian Leather, Amber and Labdanum.@
Hans says: Psyche! Hans says nothing! Hans is out golfing the Mountain Course at the Broadmoor and can't come to my wrist right now. We'll have to try back later.
*************
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Well, some sort of mentally challenged frog with a limp or something. It goes "rip-it, rip... bam. knot! *shuffleyank* *snap!* rip-it, rip-it, rrrrrrrrrrrreeekk! fuck! KNOT!..."
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): *cough2007cough*
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Beer helped.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Well, only a couple of miles out of the way. In the opposite direction.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Charming neighbourhood ice cream stores that make their own ice cream every day in-house should always be honoured with a double-p-e spelling.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Y'know... in the name of fairness and letting the people know and stuff.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): In my vast experience of having tasted two flavours at each shoppe. But both the Red Trolley flavours were outstanding and one of the Little Man flavours tasted like potpourri. For the record: Red Trolley -- banana bread ice cream and bing cherry hazlenut chip ice cream. Little Man -- firecracker blueberry cinnamon (aka - potpourri) sorbet and ginger gelato.
§§FOOTNOTE (this'll turn your head): No lie. The big complaint out of the American market was that the Mini couldn't accommodate a Big Gulp. Ah, well. The gluttony of the masses allows for ice cream transportation for me. Thank you, gluttonous masses.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (aw, it looks like two little taste spoons): Where you can see I'm keeping the AC at 60 degrees, my tank is nearly full, I'm listening to a song called, "I'm a Vampire" and the Red Trolley is at an altitude of 5320'. Also, I haven't dusted in awhile.
##FOOTNOTE (how many I intend to gain taste-testing ice cream in the 'hood): Unless, y'know, it's the Raiders. Or my team happens to be the overdog. But all other things being equal, I'm behind the underdog all the way. Did I mention training camp started last week? And the dark days of summer are almost over?
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Actually, it's not. I went to the Neil Morris site to get the Neil Morris take on this Neil Morris creation and it turns out Neil Morris doesn't agree with the Perfumed Court. I'm going with Neil Morris on this one. After all, it is a Neil Morris Signature Collection scent.
$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): Ha! Got one!
^FOOTNOTE (careted): I have no idea what Narcissus smells like.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): I know you've read this all before, but I try to give the perfumer's rhetoric when I can find it.
[SUMMARY: Knitting content two days running. This may be a record.]
On the way home,¶ I stopped off at the newish Red Trolley ice cream shoppe# to sample their product.††
I feel kinda bad for them because they opened around the same time as Little Man -- media darling and neighbourhood hot spot -- but they're just not getting the same buzz.
I like Red Trolley better.‡‡
The adorable dreadlocked blonde girl who waited on me was nice as could be, the ice cream was outstanding and the shoppe is just darned cute -- marble and wood, kinda like an old-fashioned soda fountain.
[SUMMARY: Packaging counts.]
Besides, they have these cups that fit perfectly in the modified-for-American-sodas§§ cup holder in CLCWWW.¶¶
And you get a cookie.
And they're closer than Little Man.
Besides, I always cheer for the underdog.##
*************
Neil Morris Signature Collection - Gotham parfum
Marin says: *sigh* Again, anything oil-based has that heavy smell of smoke, incense, amber, myrrh... whatever it is, it doesn't make me all that happy. The smoky damp cloud on my wrist started out, once again, reminiscent of toilet paper or Ti-D-Bowl to my nose.
I'll admit it's mellowed around the edges over the hours and deepened and flowered. It smells like a California redwood forest near the ocean -- cedar and salt-spray, and I do like that part. If I hold my nose a couple of inches from my skin, I get a hint of rose.
Oils are still just too warm and thick for my liking. Is there some way to cut this stuff to suit my aesthetic?
The Perfumed Court says: One of Neil Morris Vault Scents%, Gotham is based on a memory of an October night in NYC - unusually warm and overcast and foggy, with a sense of mystery and things hidden in the dark.
Gotham has notes of Black Pepper, Yuzu, Rose,$ Narcissus,^ Amber, Pearl Musk, Myrtlewood, Tonka absolute, Labdanum, Russian Leather, Redwood,$ and Ambergris.
Neil Morris says: My inspiration for Gotham was a stroll along a street in Manhattan on what could only be described as a summer evening except for the fact that it was late October! It was unusually warm and overcast evening. It was a bit foggy and the atmosphere had a sense of mystery and of things hidden in the night. All in all a magical evening.
Gotham opens with Top Notes of Black Pepper and Yuzu that merge with Heart Notes of Rose and Narcissus. The Base Notes include Ambergris, Myrtlewood, Russian Leather, Amber and Labdanum.@
Hans says: Psyche! Hans says nothing! Hans is out golfing the Mountain Course at the Broadmoor and can't come to my wrist right now. We'll have to try back later.
*************
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Well, some sort of mentally challenged frog with a limp or something. It goes "rip-it, rip... bam. knot! *shuffleyank* *snap!* rip-it, rip-it, rrrrrrrrrrrreeekk! fuck! KNOT!..."
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): *cough2007cough*
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Beer helped.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Well, only a couple of miles out of the way. In the opposite direction.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Charming neighbourhood ice cream stores that make their own ice cream every day in-house should always be honoured with a double-p-e spelling.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Y'know... in the name of fairness and letting the people know and stuff.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): In my vast experience of having tasted two flavours at each shoppe. But both the Red Trolley flavours were outstanding and one of the Little Man flavours tasted like potpourri. For the record: Red Trolley -- banana bread ice cream and bing cherry hazlenut chip ice cream. Little Man -- firecracker blueberry cinnamon (aka - potpourri) sorbet and ginger gelato.
§§FOOTNOTE (this'll turn your head): No lie. The big complaint out of the American market was that the Mini couldn't accommodate a Big Gulp. Ah, well. The gluttony of the masses allows for ice cream transportation for me. Thank you, gluttonous masses.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (aw, it looks like two little taste spoons): Where you can see I'm keeping the AC at 60 degrees, my tank is nearly full, I'm listening to a song called, "I'm a Vampire" and the Red Trolley is at an altitude of 5320'. Also, I haven't dusted in awhile.
##FOOTNOTE (how many I intend to gain taste-testing ice cream in the 'hood): Unless, y'know, it's the Raiders. Or my team happens to be the overdog. But all other things being equal, I'm behind the underdog all the way. Did I mention training camp started last week? And the dark days of summer are almost over?
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Actually, it's not. I went to the Neil Morris site to get the Neil Morris take on this Neil Morris creation and it turns out Neil Morris doesn't agree with the Perfumed Court. I'm going with Neil Morris on this one. After all, it is a Neil Morris Signature Collection scent.
$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): Ha! Got one!
^FOOTNOTE (careted): I have no idea what Narcissus smells like.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): I know you've read this all before, but I try to give the perfumer's rhetoric when I can find it.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Secret Pal 12 Question 7
What is (are) your favorite place(s) to knit? and What supplies (besides yarn & needles) make the setting perfect for knitting?
First question:
I love to knit at the bars.† There's beer‡ and company and the distraction of dinner and beer.
I love to knit in my recliner in front of the TiVi. I saw a brain-scan study once where they showed a person's brain doing some puzzle activity,§ then that same person's brain watching TiVi,¶ then that same person's brain watching TiVi while knitting.#
I rest my case. I don't watch too much TiVi, I'm fighting brain rot on a daily basis.
And I particularly love knitting during football season. Curled up for hours in front of the TiVi, often with beer and company and the distraction of dinner and beer. So the best of all possible worlds.
Second question:
I'm going to have to say, "Beer and TiVi," Bob.††
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Patrick Carroll's and now the re-vamped Billy's Inn, new home of Cute Christopher. The lighting's better, the food is better, but it's a longer walk home from Billy's than Patrick's and Billy's isn't right across from Sylvia's House of Fuzzy Crack. So for now we're splitting our time.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Can substitute wine, vodka or hard cider.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Red and active!
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Dark and cold!
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Even activer than doing a puzzle!
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Didn't see that one coming, did you?
First question:
I love to knit at the bars.† There's beer‡ and company and the distraction of dinner and beer.
I love to knit in my recliner in front of the TiVi. I saw a brain-scan study once where they showed a person's brain doing some puzzle activity,§ then that same person's brain watching TiVi,¶ then that same person's brain watching TiVi while knitting.#
I rest my case. I don't watch too much TiVi, I'm fighting brain rot on a daily basis.
And I particularly love knitting during football season. Curled up for hours in front of the TiVi, often with beer and company and the distraction of dinner and beer. So the best of all possible worlds.
Second question:
I'm going to have to say, "Beer and TiVi," Bob.††
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Patrick Carroll's and now the re-vamped Billy's Inn, new home of Cute Christopher. The lighting's better, the food is better, but it's a longer walk home from Billy's than Patrick's and Billy's isn't right across from Sylvia's House of Fuzzy Crack. So for now we're splitting our time.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Can substitute wine, vodka or hard cider.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Red and active!
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Dark and cold!
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Even activer than doing a puzzle!
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Didn't see that one coming, did you?
Thursday, February 7, 2008
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:
*************
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.
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.
*************
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.
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