Once every six months I allow myself a “cheat day”. This is the day I can have any gluten-filled craving my heart desires. I look forward to every March and every September when I can throw caution to the wind and have whatever I want. My past two cheat days have been at Greek Souvlaki where I order the Chicken Souvlaki in a pita (my favorite flatbread in Salt Lake). This March's cheat is special. This cheat is all about the chicken strips at Hoppers. Generally, I don’t like Hoppers. I have been disappointed time and again by their bad menu selection and even worse food preparation. Their chicken strips, however, are the exception. They are delicious.
Yesterday was a particularly stressful day at work. I ran around all day like a chicken with my head cut off and was even pulled aside by one of my superiors to ask if I was ok. I was in meetings all day and rushing to meet some very pressing deadlines. Finally, I caught my breath at 3pm and texted Andy “Do you want to go to Hoppers after Zumba?” I had Zumba at 6:30 but thought that some much needed chicken fingers (my first in over a year) would do my soul good.
I went to my hour of Zumba and left feeling satisfied after my long day. I no longer wanted chicken strips. In fact, the mere thought of something fried made me sick to my stomach. Andy and I decided we’d go to Hoppers anyway since I wasn’t very hungry and Andy had been planning on it.
We went to Hoppers and were greeted by the nauseating sound of their live music where a well-intentioned woman was doing an unplugged version of “Living on a Prayer”. After requesting the farthest table from the live music, the hostess seated us, told us the specials, highly recommended the soup of the day, and left. We were faced with the underwhelming menu that Hoppers has to offer. I grimaced as the singer continued to sing too high for her range and Andy happily fixed his focus on the ever-present basketball games that make March as insufferable as it is.
Our waitress came to our table and we ordered. I decided on the soup: turkey chili (since it came highly recommended) and Andy got his usual: garlic burger. After a little while, our meals came out. Andy’s looked pretty good whereas mine looked like chunks of unrecognizable meat floating in what seemed to be teriyaki sauce. It was DEFINITELY not chili. Andy and I looked at my bowl in disgust.
Andy said, “That looks…”
“Terrible.” I finished. “Will you taste it and let me know if I’ll like it?”
Andy (the trooper) took the spoon and swallowed some of the soup. He stared at the table while smacking his lips a few times.
“Well?” I asked. “How is it?”
Andy contemplated the question. “It’s salty,” he said diplomatically.
I took my spoon and filled it with the brown liquid and put it in my mouth. Salty was about the nicest description it could have been given. Really, I would have described it as “Ass in a bowl”. “Poop flavored salt lick”. Or perhaps just “effing disgusting” (that’s right, effing). Andy and I came up with some other descriptions that are just too graphic for a classy blog such as this.
Anyway, I was not eating this soup. Andy and I wondered aloud if the hostess knew what she was promoting when she “highly recommended” it. I understand that restaurants have their staff push certain menu items, but I believe this is the quickest way to lose a customer. A new customer might think If they are recommending this bowl of excrement, how much worse is everything else on their menu?
The waitress noticed I had pushed the bowl aside and asked “Oh, did you not like it?”
“No,” I replied with a smile. “It’s really terrible.”
I ended up not ordering anything since the brown mystery stew and thoroughly killed any appetite I had. Sick.
On our way out, I mentioned to the hostess that she should probably not push the soup. It was really terrible. Hoppers has topped themselves yet again.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Not only is he not into you; you're a failure.
Generally, I try to keep this blog light and sarcastic but occasionally I am confronted by a piece of information (or two) that compells me to dust off my trusty soapbox and speak my mind. Here we go.
Author Tracy McMillan wrote an article titled "Why you're not married" for the Huffington Post. The article (if you choose to not read it) is written to educate 30-something single women about why they just can't seem to land a man. The author makes sure to point out "But I won't lie. The problem is not men, it's you. Sure, there are lame men out there, but they're not really standing in your way. Because the fact is -- if whatever you're doing right now was going to get you married, you'd already have a ring on it."
She goes on to list six reasons women fail to get married:
1. You're a bitch
2. You're shallow
3. You're a slut
4. You're a liar
5. You're selfish
6. You're not good enough
If this list sparks your interest and you would like to learn more, by all means, click on the link and read away. If nothing else, it's an entertaining piece that promises to raise your heart rate and inspire blog posts such as this.
I don't want to talk about the article, whether I agree with it or not(I DON'T), or harp on the author. I read the piece as more of an entertainment post rather than lessons of life. My fear, however, is that hundreds or thousands of women have read it as a lesson on life. And that depresses me.
Are women so desperate, so lacking in self-esteem, that they would take this advice from a thrice-divorced, tactless author? She is giving advice on how to get married, not how to have a successful relationship. In fact, she uses sentences such as: "a good wife, even a halfway decent one, does not spend most of her day thinking about herself" and "if what you really want is a baby, go get you one. Your husband will be along shortly" which, in my opinion, is signing up to be someone's slave. What happened to setting goals? What happened to a marriage being a partnership? What happened to compromise, love, and respect? I feel like feminism never happened. Apparently, marriage will destroy your identity, ladies. If that's true, why would you want to get married in the first place? If that's true, these bitchy, selfish, slutty, egocentric women know where it's at.
Actually, I feel that this article is for any woman who is married to give herself a self-righteous pat on the back for obviously not being any of the aforementioned things (God knows that no married woman is capable of being a bitch or selfish or shallow or lies or fill-in-the-blank) since she's married.
This might be my favorite part:
"Because ultimately, marriage is not about getting something -- it's about giving it. Strangely, men understand this more than we do. Probably because for them marriage involves sacrificing their most treasured possession -- a free-agent penis -- and for us, it's the culmination of a princess fantasy so universal, it built Disneyland." I don't think I need to add anything to this. The blatant stereotypes really speak for themselves.
Although Tracy McMillan brings a few sentences of grace toward the end of the article, I was mostly appalled by it. But then, I read the article "Why I'm not married (and it's not because I'm an angry slut)" by Jessica Ravitz on CNN.com and really wanted to put my fist through my computer screen.
I was so excited to see a rebuttal to Tracy McMillan's "Why you're not married" and had high hopes for it! I was expecting to read a strong article by a strong woman that was written to empower, not condemn. I wanted to read about choices and priorities. I would have been happy with the "Everything in its own time" argument or perhaps (dare I say?) the idea that God might be in control or have a purpose or one of those ideas that are usually scoffed at.
What was offered was this woman's life (sob) story about all of the circumstances that surround her singleness. Her early distrust in men, following a guy across the country who was obviously not interested, committing to a man and running away, several failed dates, etc is all narrated in this article. It read like an apology. While she was giving real life instances that counter the six reasons stated by McMillan, never once did she mention anything that would hint at self-esteem.
So here's my soapbox. If you found value or guidance in either of these articles, What are you looking for? Why are you looking to these authors to tell you why you are a "failure"? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe there is nothing wrong with you? You have gotten this far in life without McMillan or Ravitz to tell you what is wrong or who to blame. I'm guessing you are smart enough to get along without them a little while longer.
Women, you are exquisite. You are strong and powerful. You have the ability to climb mountains, succeed in life, and love in many, many ways. Why are we considered failures if we aren't married by 35 (or in Utah, 19)? Why do we allow our self-esteems to be destroyed time and time again by any ignoramus with an opinion? No one wants to be lonely and everyone wants answers. But, really. Are you willing to resign and condemn yourself in this offensive way?
Food for thought.
Author Tracy McMillan wrote an article titled "Why you're not married" for the Huffington Post. The article (if you choose to not read it) is written to educate 30-something single women about why they just can't seem to land a man. The author makes sure to point out "But I won't lie. The problem is not men, it's you. Sure, there are lame men out there, but they're not really standing in your way. Because the fact is -- if whatever you're doing right now was going to get you married, you'd already have a ring on it."
She goes on to list six reasons women fail to get married:
1. You're a bitch
2. You're shallow
3. You're a slut
4. You're a liar
5. You're selfish
6. You're not good enough
If this list sparks your interest and you would like to learn more, by all means, click on the link and read away. If nothing else, it's an entertaining piece that promises to raise your heart rate and inspire blog posts such as this.
I don't want to talk about the article, whether I agree with it or not(I DON'T), or harp on the author. I read the piece as more of an entertainment post rather than lessons of life. My fear, however, is that hundreds or thousands of women have read it as a lesson on life. And that depresses me.
Are women so desperate, so lacking in self-esteem, that they would take this advice from a thrice-divorced, tactless author? She is giving advice on how to get married, not how to have a successful relationship. In fact, she uses sentences such as: "a good wife, even a halfway decent one, does not spend most of her day thinking about herself" and "if what you really want is a baby, go get you one. Your husband will be along shortly" which, in my opinion, is signing up to be someone's slave. What happened to setting goals? What happened to a marriage being a partnership? What happened to compromise, love, and respect? I feel like feminism never happened. Apparently, marriage will destroy your identity, ladies. If that's true, why would you want to get married in the first place? If that's true, these bitchy, selfish, slutty, egocentric women know where it's at.
Actually, I feel that this article is for any woman who is married to give herself a self-righteous pat on the back for obviously not being any of the aforementioned things (God knows that no married woman is capable of being a bitch or selfish or shallow or lies or fill-in-the-blank) since she's married.
This might be my favorite part:
"Because ultimately, marriage is not about getting something -- it's about giving it. Strangely, men understand this more than we do. Probably because for them marriage involves sacrificing their most treasured possession -- a free-agent penis -- and for us, it's the culmination of a princess fantasy so universal, it built Disneyland." I don't think I need to add anything to this. The blatant stereotypes really speak for themselves.
Although Tracy McMillan brings a few sentences of grace toward the end of the article, I was mostly appalled by it. But then, I read the article "Why I'm not married (and it's not because I'm an angry slut)" by Jessica Ravitz on CNN.com and really wanted to put my fist through my computer screen.
I was so excited to see a rebuttal to Tracy McMillan's "Why you're not married" and had high hopes for it! I was expecting to read a strong article by a strong woman that was written to empower, not condemn. I wanted to read about choices and priorities. I would have been happy with the "Everything in its own time" argument or perhaps (dare I say?) the idea that God might be in control or have a purpose or one of those ideas that are usually scoffed at.
What was offered was this woman's life (sob) story about all of the circumstances that surround her singleness. Her early distrust in men, following a guy across the country who was obviously not interested, committing to a man and running away, several failed dates, etc is all narrated in this article. It read like an apology. While she was giving real life instances that counter the six reasons stated by McMillan, never once did she mention anything that would hint at self-esteem.
So here's my soapbox. If you found value or guidance in either of these articles, What are you looking for? Why are you looking to these authors to tell you why you are a "failure"? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe there is nothing wrong with you? You have gotten this far in life without McMillan or Ravitz to tell you what is wrong or who to blame. I'm guessing you are smart enough to get along without them a little while longer.
Women, you are exquisite. You are strong and powerful. You have the ability to climb mountains, succeed in life, and love in many, many ways. Why are we considered failures if we aren't married by 35 (or in Utah, 19)? Why do we allow our self-esteems to be destroyed time and time again by any ignoramus with an opinion? No one wants to be lonely and everyone wants answers. But, really. Are you willing to resign and condemn yourself in this offensive way?
Food for thought.
The reasons I hate(d) Las Vegas
I went to Las Vegas for 18 hours to take an exam last weekend. Here's what I (already knew but) confirmed on this trip:
1. The flight is inevitably hijacked by a bachelorette or "Dirty 30" party that talks non-stop about how wasted they are going to get. Also, they can't seem to understand the time change thing and feel it necessary to debate it for 40 straight minutes. At the end, they decide they don't really care. As long as they don't miss Jersey Shore.
2. People really think that high fashion in Las Vegas consists of anything that is sequined, two sizes too small, and shows off one's bright pink thong.
3. It's. Too. Damn. Expensive.
4. Dear Mr. Porn hander-outer guy, as I am walking down the strip with my arms full of luggage and other travel items, what makes you think I want to take your smutty, porn fliers?
5. Drunk sloppiness. Everywhere.
6. People who take pictures of the Eiffel Tower or the Arc D'Triumph at the Paris hotel and casino. Hey guy, they aren't real.
7. Ed Hardy on old women (or anyone for that matter). I hate you Ed Hardy.
8. Know-it-alls on the shuttle who feel it necessary to announce to everyone which casino is which. Just in case we couldn't read the numerous, enormous, flashing signs. "See the one in the shape of a pyramid? See that one? That one is called the Luxor! See? it's like an Egyptian theme!" Dude. Cool it.
9. Bachelor parties who really think that the "Hangover" will happen to them and therefore quote the movie over and over again.
10. People who cleverly use the phrase "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas". For the love. Give it a rest. You aren't clever. You're annoying.
My above cynicism might have been due to the fact that I was sick and there to take a test. Or it might be that Las Vegas sucks. Either way--this list is true.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Kickboxing and Me
I tried my very first kickboxing class not too long ago and found out that Kickboxing and I don't get along.
My first mistake was attending a class at a nearby college. When one chooses to attend a high-energy exercise class with a bunch of college freshman, one can assume he/she will inevitably be the fat kid in class. Thus, my pride was somewhere trodden on the floor by peppy 18 year old cheerleaders doing their collective jump rope very early in the class.
After the grueling ten minute warm-up we moved on to something just as peppy and just as exhausting. I expected kickboxing to be kind of like violent jazzercise. Interestingly enough, it was more of a chaotic Tae-bo class. And just like the Tae-bo class I took in seventh grade, I still can't do bean bag punches without giving myself black eyes.
Let's talk about the instructor. She looked and acted like an ex-Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. She wore a headset (which was silly considering the size of room and number of students). She really enjoyed making the "Woo!" sound and saying "Come On!" as a means of inspiring us to keep going. She was very disappointed that we didn't "Woo!" and "Come On!" with her. Sorry lady, I'm just not that peppy.
After jumping and swinging my arms like a monkey for 45 minutes, I excused myself to grab some water. As I took a sip I thought, you know, I wouldn't be the least bit sad if I left right now (I should point out that I had done an hour of Pilates prior to the "Turbo Kickboxing" class). I mentally chastised myself for being lazy and went back into the class of bouncing children.
Shortly after re-entering, the instructor announced that it was time for the cool down. PRAISE THE LORD!! We went to the floor and immediately began what felt like a million mountain climbers. Anyone who has experienced mountain climbers knows that, by no stretch of the imagination, can they be considered a "Cool Down" exercise. I reminded myself for the 20th time that I would not be returning to this class. We then continued our "cool down" with 100 crunches and 50 bicycles. I now know that the instructor really had no clue what "cool down" meant.
After an hour of bouncing, kicking, hitting myself, cursing my spare tire, climbing mountains, and setting my abs on fire, I limped home (I considered it my "cool down") and swore to never go back again. And I haven't.
I'll stick to Zumba, Pilates, rock climbing, swimming, and running. I think that's good enough for now.
My first mistake was attending a class at a nearby college. When one chooses to attend a high-energy exercise class with a bunch of college freshman, one can assume he/she will inevitably be the fat kid in class. Thus, my pride was somewhere trodden on the floor by peppy 18 year old cheerleaders doing their collective jump rope very early in the class.
After the grueling ten minute warm-up we moved on to something just as peppy and just as exhausting. I expected kickboxing to be kind of like violent jazzercise. Interestingly enough, it was more of a chaotic Tae-bo class. And just like the Tae-bo class I took in seventh grade, I still can't do bean bag punches without giving myself black eyes.
Let's talk about the instructor. She looked and acted like an ex-Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. She wore a headset (which was silly considering the size of room and number of students). She really enjoyed making the "Woo!" sound and saying "Come On!" as a means of inspiring us to keep going. She was very disappointed that we didn't "Woo!" and "Come On!" with her. Sorry lady, I'm just not that peppy.
After jumping and swinging my arms like a monkey for 45 minutes, I excused myself to grab some water. As I took a sip I thought, you know, I wouldn't be the least bit sad if I left right now (I should point out that I had done an hour of Pilates prior to the "Turbo Kickboxing" class). I mentally chastised myself for being lazy and went back into the class of bouncing children.
Shortly after re-entering, the instructor announced that it was time for the cool down. PRAISE THE LORD!! We went to the floor and immediately began what felt like a million mountain climbers. Anyone who has experienced mountain climbers knows that, by no stretch of the imagination, can they be considered a "Cool Down" exercise. I reminded myself for the 20th time that I would not be returning to this class. We then continued our "cool down" with 100 crunches and 50 bicycles. I now know that the instructor really had no clue what "cool down" meant.
After an hour of bouncing, kicking, hitting myself, cursing my spare tire, climbing mountains, and setting my abs on fire, I limped home (I considered it my "cool down") and swore to never go back again. And I haven't.
I'll stick to Zumba, Pilates, rock climbing, swimming, and running. I think that's good enough for now.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
The dreaded 213
I realized I haven't blogged about Salt Lake City's public transportation in a while. After Andy and I moved to Sugar House, I abandoned TRAX and began riding the bus (which is actually really nice--way better than TRAX). I began riding the 220 which picked me across the street from my house and delivered me to the hospital at which I work. Easy. Wonderful.
UTA decided to revamp the bus schedules mid-December which cause the 220 to no longer go to the hospital! In fact, no busses near me went to the hospital. Boo. I would have to transfer. After studying the new schedule I decided to switch to the 213 simply because it got me closer to the hospital than 220's new route.
So, the 213 picks up one block west of the 220 and let me tell you what a difference one block makes! The 220 uses beautiful, new, clean busses whereas the 213 uses super crappy, dirty, old busses. The people who ride the 220 are all commuters to the hospital. The people who ride the 213 are rude and stinky. Unfortunately, both busses cater to two high schools which isn't ideal for the morning commute.
I rode the 213 for about two weeks before I gave up and returned to the less convenient 220. Here are the reasons I chose the longer commute:
1. The 213 would NEVER arrive on time. It was either 10 minutes early or 10 minutes late (when it decided to show up at all)
2. The drivers are grumpy (The first day I rode I tapped my pass on the scanner and the driver mumbled something to me, "Excuse me?" I said, since he mumbled and I didn't hear what he had said. "USE--THE--ONE--IN--BACK" he yelled in an exaggerated way.)
3. The people who wait at my stop are weird (I struck up a conversation with a nice blind man who told me he really hoped I was LDS because the only nice people in the world were Mormon and he sincerely hoped I was one of the nice people. Then he invited me to a Sarah McLachlan concert for Valentine's Day.)
4. The people who ride the bus are rude (I gave up my seat for an elderly man with back problems and he called me a "bitch" very loudly because he was offended that I moved and didn't sit next to him. He called me a "stuck up bitch" loudly for 10 minutes until I exited the bus.)
5. High School students- though this one goes for 213 AND 220, (I listened to a Junior telling a sophomore about the really old movie that his teacher showed him called "A Beautiful Mind". He talked about how it was made when Russell Crowe was really young and how it was about some guy who was good at math, was "schizophrenia", and tried to kill his son . He thought it might have been based on a true story.)
6. College Freshman ( taking religion 101 talking about how lucky they are to be part of church that doesn't have any negative historical events to cover up unlike the Catholic Church.)
7. General Weirdoes (A guy interrupted me from reading to say, "I notice you are reading with your sunglasses on. Does reading with your sunglasses on give you a different perspective on what you're reading?")
Due to the above instances, I have switched back to the 220. Thank God.
UTA decided to revamp the bus schedules mid-December which cause the 220 to no longer go to the hospital! In fact, no busses near me went to the hospital. Boo. I would have to transfer. After studying the new schedule I decided to switch to the 213 simply because it got me closer to the hospital than 220's new route.
So, the 213 picks up one block west of the 220 and let me tell you what a difference one block makes! The 220 uses beautiful, new, clean busses whereas the 213 uses super crappy, dirty, old busses. The people who ride the 220 are all commuters to the hospital. The people who ride the 213 are rude and stinky. Unfortunately, both busses cater to two high schools which isn't ideal for the morning commute.
I rode the 213 for about two weeks before I gave up and returned to the less convenient 220. Here are the reasons I chose the longer commute:
1. The 213 would NEVER arrive on time. It was either 10 minutes early or 10 minutes late (when it decided to show up at all)
2. The drivers are grumpy (The first day I rode I tapped my pass on the scanner and the driver mumbled something to me, "Excuse me?" I said, since he mumbled and I didn't hear what he had said. "USE--THE--ONE--IN--BACK" he yelled in an exaggerated way.)
3. The people who wait at my stop are weird (I struck up a conversation with a nice blind man who told me he really hoped I was LDS because the only nice people in the world were Mormon and he sincerely hoped I was one of the nice people. Then he invited me to a Sarah McLachlan concert for Valentine's Day.)
4. The people who ride the bus are rude (I gave up my seat for an elderly man with back problems and he called me a "bitch" very loudly because he was offended that I moved and didn't sit next to him. He called me a "stuck up bitch" loudly for 10 minutes until I exited the bus.)
5. High School students- though this one goes for 213 AND 220, (I listened to a Junior telling a sophomore about the really old movie that his teacher showed him called "A Beautiful Mind". He talked about how it was made when Russell Crowe was really young and how it was about some guy who was good at math, was "schizophrenia", and tried to kill his son . He thought it might have been based on a true story.)
6. College Freshman ( taking religion 101 talking about how lucky they are to be part of church that doesn't have any negative historical events to cover up unlike the Catholic Church.)
7. General Weirdoes (A guy interrupted me from reading to say, "I notice you are reading with your sunglasses on. Does reading with your sunglasses on give you a different perspective on what you're reading?")
Due to the above instances, I have switched back to the 220. Thank God.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Choose your own adventure: The mystery of the murdered blue man.
After much success with my previous "choose your own adventure" story, I thought I'd do another one.
Read the story and choose your own adventure!
PART I
Candace and Andy have a wonderful evening planned with friends. The evening includes great company, fantastic food, delicious wine, and much fun to be had all around. For everyone's ease, the hostess brings out rubber wine markers with suction cups to mark whose glass is whose. Candace picks out a silly blue one for Andy and sticks it to his glass.
Dinner is served and the friends gather around the dining room table. The wine is poured, the food is devoured, and the conversation takes form. If Andy remains gripped in conversation continue to part V. If Andy's mind wanders and he begins playing with his wine charm continue to PART II.
PART II
Andy mentally checks out of the conversation and is suddenly hypnotized by the rubber suction cup wine charm. He checks its bounciness by flicking it. He checks its flexibility by twisting it. The idea I wonder if I can twist this little blue guy in a full circle?enters his head and his experimentations begin. Andy twists and twists only to find that the little blue man cannot twist a full 360 degrees. The little blue man is severed from his suction cup and falls into Andy's lap. If Andy announces to the group of the blue man's death, skip to PART VI. If Andy decides to take care of the problem on his own, continue to PART III.
PART III
Andy immediately rises from the table and wanders toward the kitchen. To everyone at the table Andy looks lost and confused. He walks to the kitchen, turns around, takes a few steps back, and spins in an aimless fashion. "Andy, what are you doing?" asks Candace. If Andy informs the group that he is looking for the trash to dispose of the evidence, skip to PART VII. If Andy thinks fast and comes up with the first fib he can muster, continue to PART IV.
PART IV
Andy faces the party group and and pauses. "I...forgot that...the wine in...the kitchen was...empty." Andy immediately walks back to the table and sits down in front of his half-full wine glass and partially full bottle of wine.. To find out the ending, skip to PART VIII.
PART V
Candace and Andy have a very pleasant evening with no topic left untouched. With the wine and food consumed, Candace and Andy bid goodnight to their hosts and go home.
PART VI
"Hey, guys!" says Andy, "Did you realize that these wine charms aren't as flexible as they seem? I just tried to spin one around in a full circle and it broke off! Sorry, Kristen! Can I replace them?" The hostess assures Andy that it's ok. Everyone laughs at the situation and the party commences. After hours of enjoyment, everyone bids goodnight to their hosts and goes home.
PART VII
Andy cooly responds to Candace by saying, "I forgot to spit my gum out! Does anyone know where a garbage is in this place?" Kristen mentions the location of the garbage and Andy is able to dump the evidence without anyone being the wiser. The party continues, fun is had, and the guests bid good night to their hosts and go home. It isn't until weeks later that Kristen thinks I thought we had another wine charm.
PART VIII
Andy turns to the hostess. "Kristen, I broke your wine charm."
Read the story and choose your own adventure!
PART I
Candace and Andy have a wonderful evening planned with friends. The evening includes great company, fantastic food, delicious wine, and much fun to be had all around. For everyone's ease, the hostess brings out rubber wine markers with suction cups to mark whose glass is whose. Candace picks out a silly blue one for Andy and sticks it to his glass.
Dinner is served and the friends gather around the dining room table. The wine is poured, the food is devoured, and the conversation takes form. If Andy remains gripped in conversation continue to part V. If Andy's mind wanders and he begins playing with his wine charm continue to PART II.
PART II
Andy mentally checks out of the conversation and is suddenly hypnotized by the rubber suction cup wine charm. He checks its bounciness by flicking it. He checks its flexibility by twisting it. The idea I wonder if I can twist this little blue guy in a full circle?enters his head and his experimentations begin. Andy twists and twists only to find that the little blue man cannot twist a full 360 degrees. The little blue man is severed from his suction cup and falls into Andy's lap. If Andy announces to the group of the blue man's death, skip to PART VI. If Andy decides to take care of the problem on his own, continue to PART III.
PART III
Andy immediately rises from the table and wanders toward the kitchen. To everyone at the table Andy looks lost and confused. He walks to the kitchen, turns around, takes a few steps back, and spins in an aimless fashion. "Andy, what are you doing?" asks Candace. If Andy informs the group that he is looking for the trash to dispose of the evidence, skip to PART VII. If Andy thinks fast and comes up with the first fib he can muster, continue to PART IV.
PART IV
Andy faces the party group and and pauses. "I...forgot that...the wine in...the kitchen was...empty." Andy immediately walks back to the table and sits down in front of his half-full wine glass and partially full bottle of wine.. To find out the ending, skip to PART VIII.
PART V
Candace and Andy have a very pleasant evening with no topic left untouched. With the wine and food consumed, Candace and Andy bid goodnight to their hosts and go home.
PART VI
"Hey, guys!" says Andy, "Did you realize that these wine charms aren't as flexible as they seem? I just tried to spin one around in a full circle and it broke off! Sorry, Kristen! Can I replace them?" The hostess assures Andy that it's ok. Everyone laughs at the situation and the party commences. After hours of enjoyment, everyone bids goodnight to their hosts and goes home.
PART VII
Andy cooly responds to Candace by saying, "I forgot to spit my gum out! Does anyone know where a garbage is in this place?" Kristen mentions the location of the garbage and Andy is able to dump the evidence without anyone being the wiser. The party continues, fun is had, and the guests bid good night to their hosts and go home. It isn't until weeks later that Kristen thinks I thought we had another wine charm.
PART VIII
Andy turns to the hostess. "Kristen, I broke your wine charm."
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Cat Update and Happy New Year.
So, while everyone is writing inspirational posts about starting over, New years, and all sorts of resolutions, I decided against such a post.
I would rather tell you great news! Remember this post when we adopted little Alice Boo and Morty decided to hide for three weeks? Well, I finally got some pictures of them together. Here's the update:
Alice is no longer afraid of running water. Mort has taught her how to drink from the faucet.
Mort tolerates her existence and plays with her often. They sleep near each other but no sign of snuggling yet UNTIL...
...LAST NIGHT! I guess this can't be considered snuggling but they are sure cute sleeping butt to butt. Morty is a trooper and is so patient with Alice. Alice often jumps on his back and chews on his ears. They are buddies now. YAY!
Also, my New Year's resolution was to floss more. No joke. I'm on day five and going strong. Here's to a great 2011!
I would rather tell you great news! Remember this post when we adopted little Alice Boo and Morty decided to hide for three weeks? Well, I finally got some pictures of them together. Here's the update:
Alice is no longer afraid of running water. Mort has taught her how to drink from the faucet.
Mort tolerates her existence and plays with her often. They sleep near each other but no sign of snuggling yet UNTIL...
...LAST NIGHT! I guess this can't be considered snuggling but they are sure cute sleeping butt to butt. Morty is a trooper and is so patient with Alice. Alice often jumps on his back and chews on his ears. They are buddies now. YAY!
Also, my New Year's resolution was to floss more. No joke. I'm on day five and going strong. Here's to a great 2011!
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