Reunion Tour

I am a lover of many things. At the top of my list are Art & Music, but I love them within reason. Imagine for a moment something that you absolutely love. Anything at all. An outfit, a band, a movie, a piece of furniture, a boyfriend, a girlfriend. Now imagine loving that thing/person so much you begin to hate it. I'm sure we can all think of something/someone in life this has happened with. For instance when you first start listening to a band. You get all the albums, you know all the songs, you sing along, you love them. They're all you can talk about. Then they start to get annoying. You get sick of all the same songs and all the same lyrics. Then annoyance turns into frustration. Frustration turns into anger. Anger turns into hate.

I'll be the first to admit that I had an unhealthy relationship with music while in high school. I was obsessed with being the first one to know about undiscovered, on the verge of being famous bands. I'd go to shows at least 3 nights a week. I had no other topics of conversation, but what bands I was listening to, and who I thought was up and coming. I'd spend class time dissecting lyrics to find out what it all meant. I subscribed to all the alternative music magazines so I'd be the first to know about new bands. Then I started to get annoyed, with myself. I had no life. I finally realized there were better things to do on a Friday night, than sitting in my room analyzing Rilo Kiley lyrics.

This time my hate for music is being influenced by an outside source. The outside source is the hipster! The skinny jeans, studded belt, vintage t-shirt wearing hipster. The art classes where I spend my time is a breeding ground for these scarf wearing, messenger bag slung, ipod humping fools! There is more to this awful world than crappy acoustic acts and colorful scarves. Wearing overpriced pseudo-vintage clothes and asinine haircuts does not make you the proverbial shit. These people generally work menial jobs and act like they are gifts to the 'uncultured' and 'mainstream' world. They always seem to talk louder than anyone else too. It's like they want you to hear how cool they are. Talking about the new acoustic Bright Eyes maxi-flex press 7". That only 600 copies were made. That they searched so hard for on eBay, and got for only $200. What a steal man!

Fennifer

SAVED!

No surprise that being from Utah I'd somehow be linked to Mormonism. Sure enough I was raised Mormon, but stopped considering myself one at 16 years of age. I continued to go through the motions until I was 18. Going to church, participating in church activities, and feigning interest in the religion. I felt at 18 I was confident enough to stand up to my mother. Really put my foot down on the religion thing! She shrugged it off as a rebellious phase, and has been in denial about it ever since. Why do I bring this up? Because I've become what ever former Mormon, who has chosen to live an alternative lifestyle fears, I've become a project.

This is how it unfolds. Once you turn the magical age of 21, and dare I say it....haven't gotten married, you are encourage to go to what is called a singles ward. (A ward is the exact same thing as a parish). All in the hopes that you will meet that special boy or girl, and after a brief courtship you'll settle for someone you don't want, get married, and have babies. Someone, I'm assuming my mother, tipped off the folks in charge that I was back from my summer travels. They have made it their mission ever since, to save me from eternal damnation. They come in pairs, usually on Sundays, and tell me that they missed me at church that day. Really?! I haven't been to a church service in years, and you've just barely noticed my absence. My, what an observant group you are! I've been heckled at the gym by these people. At the height of my cardio workout no less! Most recently I was invited to join a large group of these singles, headed south to go skeet shooting. What was my excuse, you ask? 'I have strong issues about gun control.' If they had only known they, disrupted the cleaning of my 12 gauge when they came to the door. I do not fault these people for trying to magnify their calling to find my lost soul. One might ask, 'Heather why don't you just put your foot down and tell them to hit the road?' Well, that would be like kicking a puppy. A sick, homeless, frail puppy. I just don't have the heart to do that.

Fennifer

Career Opportunities

I am a receptionist in the spa of a four-star hotel in Crested Butte, CO. When I arrived this morning for the leisurely daily routine, I was called by the hotel front desk, who warned me of a potential "Secret Shopper" staying at the hotel for two nights, purveying the facilities, grading the restaurant, etc. The front desk girl was convinced she had this lady pegged, and when one particular lady came down to the fitness center to check out the facilities, I knew she had to be the one. There was this distinct "I smell poop" expression on her face (.....................uuuuh, don't look at me.) and a wedgie forcing its way into her high rise Levi's. I greeted her, but am never really one for many words early in the day. So I did what I could - hid my lunch box and pretended to look busy. I wasn't really too concerned either way; enough people have quit in the past week to give me the illusion of job security.

But then I started thinking about the whole Secret Shopper deal. I mean, why couldn't I do that too? One of my biggest joys in life is to evaluate service (and I'm lucky to have found a highly critical life partner, too). I'd describe the majority of service and quality I've received recently as mediocre and teetering on awful; though I am the first person to shout accolades when something is truly excellent. I never initiate culinary experience smelling the proverbial poop; I declare innocence before guilt. Unless it's McDonald's.

Unfortunately, I am frequently unhappier and less satisfied than I started out, and of course, significantly poorer which is the real pisser. The mid-range dining establishments in Colorado rarely seem to serve fresh food; the meals I've had, have the commonality of tasting like an 18-wheeler would, if they were edible. Of course, I do have exceptionally sensitive and refined taste buds and can easily identify these things. Last week in Denver K, D and I went to a Brazillian Steakhouse to celebrate D's birthday (and he lives for a quivering piece of red flesh, especially the kind that comes around on skewers in rapid rotation). We thought the meal started well with grilled Mahi-Mahi, but then it took a quick turn for the worse. The little steak we did get was tough and the filler meats seemed to consist of oddly-flavored pot roasts and chicken hearts. The best description of the place was that it was "The Brazillian Steakhouse equivalent to The Golden Corral" (who incidentally also boast bacon-wrapped turkey medallions on their menu!).

Moreover, the customer-service industry in general has been slacking. Perhaps it can be reduced to Colorado; everyone is so darn efficient in Texas! Here, I wait in line at the coffee house for the barista to finish having her vapid conversation with the person in front of me, whom they know via-via, just loudly enough to demonstrate how well-connected they are in town. Me? I know who to borrow skis from and where to get pot. That's about the extent of my personal heirarchy of needs, and both are met with the greatest of ease.

And because of this consistently rude experience, I don't tip there - and that's pretty hard for me, having been a barista. I'm considering asking for a comment card, then taking them down.
Criticism and constructive feedback can be a beautiful present to business owners insightful enough to cherish it as they would a 3-month old puppy. For how does one know to improve, unless they know that they need to improve? No one is perfect, and I am just the person to let the faceless entities of America know!

~dillycait~

Class of '93

Today is Friday. On Fridays I usually go to the gym around noon. For some reason I broke tradition today, and indulged in some afternoon television. I spent an hour watching Saved By The Bell. This program will be looked back on in history, as some of the finest television ever made. 'Friends', 'Seinfeld', 'I Love Lucy', 'Growing Pains', and 'Saved By The Bell' are just a few of the half hour sitcoms that will be referenced, when the history of the sitcom is discussed.





There are so many classic Saved By The Bell (SBTB) episodes. Any fan immediately grins when thinking back on such a brilliant show. Think about it, we've been to high school with them, the beach, and college all with the same depth and grace it started out with in 1989. The writing alone inspires one to take pen in hand, and re-create the same genius the writers of SBTB were able to accomplish. It also proved that no matter where you went to high school, whether it be near the sunny beaches of California, the wind swept plains of the Midwest, or staunch cities of the East, there were only six students that REALLY mattered. Six students that were the apple of the Principal's eye; the rest of the student body did and meant nothing. That was the high school I knew, I'm overjoyed SBTB brought it to life.





How lucky the gang was. Each week they would find themselves in an extreme situation, someone would come up with an overly elaborate plan, and at the end of 30 minutes peace was once again restored to Bayside. Let us not forget, The Max, the hang out of all hang outs; open day or night at their convenience. Perhaps, serving as the seventh character in the show. Not one episode of SBTB was wasted. Every episode was just another one of life's little lessons taught in 30 minutes. Jessie, the resident feminist and over achiever, taught young women to value themselves and that caffeine pills are an excellent way to improve performance. Zach and Kelly proved that no matter the ups and downs of high school romance, the popular guy and the cheerleader always end up together. Slater and Screech demonstrated that jocks and geeks could coexist without ulterior motives. And Lisa, evidence that black people could be educated and fashionable.



Kudos to you SBTB, you will continue to inspire, teach, and entertain as long as you are in re-runs.

Fennifer

How much is that doggie in the window?

I have some beef with the GOP. Yesterday the house passed the economic stimulus plan that Obama had put in. AWESOME. And not one, ONE, not ONE GOP voted for this plan. Seriously????
Lets evaluate here. Do we export anything? Well yes…some electrical machinery. Do we import anything? Why yes, yes we do. In fact we are the largest importer in the world. Why do we import? Because we are a consumer based econonmy. We do nothing but buy, buy, buy. If we are the buyers, why the hell would you not want to bail us out?? You can continue to bail out large corporations but if you don’t have any buyers, you are wasting your money. Bail American citizens out and watch the buyers buy. Its amazing how that works.

Idiots.

*K-Ross

He Doesn't Know He's Gay--And He Never Will

I have a guilty pleasure on morning when I don't have school. I like to wake up around 7 or 8 am and watch a slew of morning televison, while drinking coffee. Beginning with the Today show, due in part to my girl crush on Anne Curry, and ending with a local morning show called Studio 5.



**I must put a disclaimer on this next portion. I in NO way object to homosexuality. I love the gays! Be proud.**



Studio 5 is an annoyingly positive, local morning show co-hosted by a man named Darin. The problematic thing is, Darin doesn't know he's gay. Neither does his wife or his four children. Darin takes great pleasure in segments that involve arts & crafts. Thrusting all his creative efforts into segments, teaching the audience how to make everything from personal journals, bags made out of old sweaters, a tie pillow for dad, and most recently a Valentine's Day countdown jar. At first I thought, 'maybe he's just really committed to his job and wants to make it seem legit'. But the look on his face as he wielded that glue stick, and so professionally applied it to the paisely paper, that was to become the cover for his personal journal; reminded me of a drag queen expertly handling a tube of lipstick. Out of curiosity I visited the Studio 5 website (I wanted the exact demensions for the Valentines Day jar....I swear!). After nosing around the site for a few moments I came to the about section, which contained a synopsis of the show. I thought this portion was especially enlightening, "Every woman needs a Studio…someplace she can dream, plan and create and that's just what we hope to do on Studio 5." If Darin's sexuality was in question before hand, this short sentence only rammed the point home. Something else tipped me off on my continued investigation. I have a sneaking suspicion that the crew is in on Darin's little secret too. They have a daily cooking segment, and during the holidays Darin was part of the 'Fudge Packed Brownies for a Bunch' portion of the show. No doubt Darin has been the butt of many of the crew's jokes. Whether or not Darin will ever come out remains to be seen, however, I will keep watching Studio 5 for my daily dose of overly optimistic medicine.

Fennifer

Up n Adam!

It's Thursday morning, and I woke up naturally at 6:30a.m. I like that. Being on the old farmer schedule..... it makes me feel less bad about passing out at 9p.m. every night. In my sleep I must have pinched a muscle in my right shoulder because it hurts a lot. It's a pretty day outside. I am watching the today show. While I was waiting for my coffee to brew I took a couple of our stainless steel pans and gave them a good deep cleaning with a toothbrush. It worked well, but steel wool would have been better. But still, they look shinier than usual. In a minute, I think I'll bundle up and have a cigarette, because well, that's just part of the routine too. I am happy with the way my morning has taken shape thus far. Aren't you?
~dillycait~

School was fine Mom.

So this is a "daily mundane" blog so perhaps I should actually detail what occured in my day today.
I have this dream...That I will actually get up at 6am, walk Moose, sit and drink coffee while watching Good Morning America. Then I will take a long, hot shower that both relaxes and wake me up.
Instead, I hit snooze till about 8AM. Which leaves me about 30 minutes to get to the office. This morning was no different. I woke, sat on the couch till about 815, washed my bangs in the sink and then blow dried them. I got dressed in a very cute outfit...I was surprised that my creativity was pulsing without coffee and off to work I went.
I walk to work. I live in the hustle and bustle of downtown Denver. My morning commute is usually filled with many business peeps like myself as well as the flavor of Denver, the homeless. They definitely hit on me every day. I am whistled at and grunted at, which makes me feel oh so pretty . This morning was just that.
Once at work, I fill my coffee cup (stainless steel, does not hurt the environment) with my Free Hazelnut Creamer and Free Starbucks Breakfast Blend coffee. Then I sit down and check my emails, IM a couple of colleagues and hit Microsoft Excel running!!!!!! Once I had been sitting for an hour or so I went outside with my friend Jean for a smoke. But then another person came outside who we know who can be very annoying and that just didn’t make for a good smoke break. So I came back inside and went back to my cubicle that was built in 1982. Continued working until lunch. Came home and took Mr. Moose out, cleaned up his present on the carpet, and made some soup. Mr. Moose and I watched a little TV and then I walked back to work in the cold. The afternoon was essentially the same as the am. Work, coffee, and a smoke break or two. Although for the last half hour of work I sat in Scott’s cubicle and we discussed how most people we know are morons. And that’s always fun to do.

*K-Ross

When did having kids turn into having a liter????

I love my job. I actually really truly do. Its one of those 8-5 gigs. Salary. 401K. And the best part of my day is the part when I am glued to my computer screen. I get really excited when I get to do fun excel functions like V-lookups, Pivot tables, running macros, creating formulas, etc. For my 2009 Plan, I have a goal of becoming proficient in Access.
I wonder where it all went wrong in my life.

*K-Ross

My dog can see dead people...

As in, I think he can. Mr. Moose the partial lab mix who at one point was probably raised by wolves, is my living companion. He’s my little man…little black man actually. He follows me wherever I go. Which isn’t very far in an apartment that’s less than 700 square feet. While I watch television or read, Moose likes to watch the wall. He gets in a trance that no treat can stir. Occasionally he cocks his head, as though he is listening intently to someone or something’s voice. Other times he will take off running through the apartment after communing with the wall like someone has lit a fire under his ass. I have wondered if I will ever wake up with him staring over me, possibly a knife in paw.
Perhaps it’s the dead that have convinced him that it is perfectly kosher to defecate on my extremely nice and pricey oriental rugs. It doesn’t leave a stain, and for all I know it could be increasing the value; however the stench is unbearable. I especially do not appreciate opening the window in sub zero temperatures so that the smell can escape.
All in all though, I would never give up the time that I have with my litte man. He likes to cuddle and play with his goose and terrorize Chihuahuas. All the BM’s that he has on my carpet are worth it!

*K-Ross

The Multi-Vitamin Surprise

Toady started off well. It's a Wednesday so my day started at 5:45 am. I'm on a new health kick, so my breakfast was well rounded and complemented with 2 Echinacea and a multi-vitamin. The Echinacea was for my morning phlegm that has made an appearance 3 mornings in a row. To school I went. I'm also going green as apart of my "better myself & the earth in 2009" plan. Riding the public transit system is an adventure in itself. It's a mixed bag of drivers; this morning I was treated to the police officer from the Village People....complete with porn-stache. His goal on our morning drive was to clean and jerk the bus the 15 miles to school. We arrived safely to my amazement. After a productive 2 hours in the photo lab I was once again subject to an enthralling art history lecture. Today we deconstructed Mycenaean art and architecture all the way down to the Tholos Tomb. I was engrossed.



On my way to catch the bus I got the multi-vitamin surprise. Before boarding the bus I took a pit stop at the ladies. After a healthy and lengthy pee, due in part to the massive amount of water I consumed, I got a whiff of what can only be described as a distinctly cereal smell. The smell quickly disappeared with a flush. Hands washed and curiosity peeked I boarded the bus.



Hours have passed since my pit stop. I watched a couple of inspiring episodes of TOP CHEF, which made me rethink my course of study and wish smell-a-vision was a real technology, instead of an abstract idea. After changing the channel to OVATION TV and watching a documentary on the life and art of Claude Monet, I soon realized that my art history courses are more appealing than my culinary curiosities. Three more cereal scented trips to the bathroom have also occured.



To GOOGLE I went, to solve the mystery. I think most of life's dilemmas can be solved with a quick trip to GOOGLE. Has anyone proposed this to the President to solve the economic crisis? Perhaps this could really turn things around, but I digress. A swift search of 'my urine smells like cereal' I linked to site that seems credible; it explained that taking a daily multi-vitamin can cause your urine to smell like cereal. Medical mystery solved. Thanks GOOGLE!!!

Fennifer

So....

Apparently Katherine's a whitetail deer.

What kind of animal are YOU?

That's EXACTLY what we are trying to figure out!

Today, I had a nice day. I spent it by myself, which was nice. I have introverted tendencies, so sometimes I like to do things like sit in a corner and stare at the nail holes in the wall, or pace the room back and forth. Today, there was snow to look at so that made my visual experience more stimulating. I made a butternut squash spice cake, and it ended up tasting like a lot like everything else I bake. My cooking takes two forms: it tastes either like a heavy, fibrous breakfast cake that activates the intestinal region; or it tastes like lentils. I reading a book for people that can't cook that is quite patronizingly called: "Subtlety of flavor and its importance in my life". I did a load of laundry today as well. I had to empty the dryer because Jon's stuff was in it. So I folded his towels, pyjama pants and dish towels, then promptly stopped up his toilet. After much plunging, I decided to drink some coffee and call my mother. Then I decided to call Kevin, a supervisor at Moosejaw.com. I thought a little tooooo much time had passed to not give him a piece of my mind.Then I watched Dr. Phil, a scheduling upset that delayed my online webcast recap of the past two episodes of Grey's.Tonight, Dana and I have a date with "Paranormal State". SCCCCCAAAARRRRRYYYY!!!!