Here are some things that I loved this weekend:
This picture of Mike and Kristi,
and this picture of The Beast!
This dessert that my boss made me,
and this breakfast that Lee made me. :)
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Las Vegas
Last weekend Lee and I were lucky enough to be treated to a trip to Las Vegas! Highlights included:
The anticipation!
Cirque Du Soleil!
The Bellagio Fountain Show!
This dessert case!
Ribs?
I love my boyfriend :)
THANK YOU PHIL AND CHRISTI!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
I'm Back!
It's new year, and I've vowed (resoluted?) to write in my blog more often in 2010. Not surprisingly, I've also resoluted to go to the gym more often. Tonight I went to the gym and ran FOUR MILES! FOUR MILES! I know that isn't a long way by any stretch, but I really don't like running, so I was pretty proud of myself. I felt great, I felt accomplished, I felt...well, REALLY hot and sweaty. Good for me!
Now I am sitting in my bed, eating macaroni and cheese, and typing this. Fail.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
My Brother, Casanova
My cousin recently got married in Sutter Creek, an old mining town in the Sierra Nevada Foothills that features nothing but bars, antique shops, and slutty girls in its historic downtown area. My family spent an entire weekend drinking that little town dry, and it is quite possible that my brother single-handedly did fifty percent of the work.
The night before the wedding there was a "Martini Party" for out of town guests. The bride's father's first mistake was allowing this event to be Open Bar, and his second mistake was inviting my family. There was only one way this evening was going to end, and it wouldn't be sober.
I drank with my family, went to a pretty PG-13 bachelorette party, and then crashed early, gearing up for the wedding extravaganza the following day. Despite the earplugs that I had shoved into my head I was jolted awake when my very large, very drunk brother, and just as drunk (but not quite as large) cousin came barreling into our hotel room at full speed trailed by beer-farts.
I peeled one eye open to see my brother lying on his back on the adjacent bed with two muffins: one clutched in his giant hand and the other shoved entirely in his mouth.
"Hey, Bren..." I asked, "Where'd you get those muffins?"
Through a fine spray of crumbs he slurred, "I have NO IDEA."
"Great." I thought, "Just great. Not only is he drunk and loud, he is also a muffin thief."
Unprovoked, he launched into a long and strange story about how he managed to woo some towney-chick by flashing his friend's NFL player card, and telling her he played for the Miami Dolphins. The story concluded with him saying, "On a scale of one to ten...I'd give her a four." Umm...what? He lied so he could make out with a FOUR?
Once the muffins had been consumed/ground into the carpet my brother and cousin passed out to the sound of their own OUTRAGEOUS snores. They snored so loud I was tempted to further my attempts at muffling the sound by shoving bits of muffin in my ears, but I chose zero sleep instead.
The night before the wedding there was a "Martini Party" for out of town guests. The bride's father's first mistake was allowing this event to be Open Bar, and his second mistake was inviting my family. There was only one way this evening was going to end, and it wouldn't be sober.
I drank with my family, went to a pretty PG-13 bachelorette party, and then crashed early, gearing up for the wedding extravaganza the following day. Despite the earplugs that I had shoved into my head I was jolted awake when my very large, very drunk brother, and just as drunk (but not quite as large) cousin came barreling into our hotel room at full speed trailed by beer-farts.
I peeled one eye open to see my brother lying on his back on the adjacent bed with two muffins: one clutched in his giant hand and the other shoved entirely in his mouth.
"Hey, Bren..." I asked, "Where'd you get those muffins?"
Through a fine spray of crumbs he slurred, "I have NO IDEA."
"Great." I thought, "Just great. Not only is he drunk and loud, he is also a muffin thief."
Unprovoked, he launched into a long and strange story about how he managed to woo some towney-chick by flashing his friend's NFL player card, and telling her he played for the Miami Dolphins. The story concluded with him saying, "On a scale of one to ten...I'd give her a four." Umm...what? He lied so he could make out with a FOUR?
Once the muffins had been consumed/ground into the carpet my brother and cousin passed out to the sound of their own OUTRAGEOUS snores. They snored so loud I was tempted to further my attempts at muffling the sound by shoving bits of muffin in my ears, but I chose zero sleep instead.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Recent Quotes
I nearly died of laughter when I heard these next two quotes:
1. "Sometimes burritos are more important than friends." ~Lee Black
and:
2. "I chose my college based on how likely I would be to meet to meet Eddie Vedder." ~Name omitted to protect the not so innocent
The aforementioned Eddie Vedder lover also added that she used to love him so much that she once lost all control of her bladder during a particularly intense moment at a Pearl Jam concert. I would have paid a lot of money to witness that.
1. "Sometimes burritos are more important than friends." ~Lee Black
and:
2. "I chose my college based on how likely I would be to meet to meet Eddie Vedder." ~Name omitted to protect the not so innocent
The aforementioned Eddie Vedder lover also added that she used to love him so much that she once lost all control of her bladder during a particularly intense moment at a Pearl Jam concert. I would have paid a lot of money to witness that.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Oh Grass Valley...
Please see the following link to get a little glimpse as to why I love Grass Valley.
http://www.theunion.com/article/20090509/NEWS/905089958/1001/NONE&parentprofile=1053
http://www.theunion.com/article/20090509/NEWS/905089958/1001/NONE&parentprofile=1053
Male Pedicurists: Masters in Their Own Right
A few summers ago, my friends Jill, Kelsey, and I chose to go to a nail salon close to my house in Grass Valley. Jill and I smiled and laughed nervously as we watched the people working below us, slightly self-conscious of the condition of our feet. As it turns out, working at a Summer Camp in the dirt for two and a half months wearing only flip-flops can really do a number on your feet. As we had just returned from our summer-long dirt extravaganza, the dirt had become so ingrained in my skin that I honestly began to think that my feet were just naturally a different skin tone than the rest of my body. Needless to say, Jill and I felt somewhat rude showing up at such a classy place (and by classy, I mean Jades Nails located next to the Fish and Chips dive in the GV) with such atrocious limbs. In some feeble attempt to save face, I offered the explanation, "Uhh, we work at a camp." To which one of the pedicurists retorted, "I can tell." Whoops.
As my pedicure progressed, I looked down and realized that the all-too-friendly Asian American man that was working on my feet seemed to be breaking out in a sweat. He had been attempting to file off the calluses on my heels for a good fifteen minutes, and to no avail. He finally said, "You want calluses off? I charge you five dollars."
I was slightly taken aback, thinking that he had just said he was going to charge me five dollars extra to continue sawing on my hooves. However, I glanced at his little cart of goodies next to my chair and realized that he was motioning to a corroded looking jar with a well-worn label. I picked up the jar, and upon closer inspection I realized it was a jar of well...ACID. A jar of acid that they had obviously had in stock for far too long, and that was only cracked open when people with freak-show feet came in with concrete calluses. "Umm...you want to put acid on my feet?" I questioned. He nodded encouragingly.
While this whole event unfolded, Jill was nearly falling out of her chair she was laughing so hard, and I think Kelsey may have peed a little. In the most polite voice that I could muster, I replied, "Umm, no thanks, I'm going organic. I don't put acid in or on my body."
He smiled at me as he motioned to my impenetrable skin and said, "Dis why you single. Dis why you have no boyfriend." Amazing. Not only was he able to look at me and deduce that I was single, but he could also pinpoint the exact reason for my solitary life. Independence, Choice, Non wavering belief in staying away from anyone who belongs to a Clan or Guild are, apparently, not among the reasons that I am currently flying solo. Nope, the man giving me a pedicure had, in five minutes, deduced that I am single because of my Camp feet.
Well, this really pushed Jill and Kelsey over the edge, and they immediately deemed Jades Nails the best place EVER to get a pedicure. They agreed that the hour long drive from Sacramento was well worth it for the comedy show.
The man shrugged his shoulders, and, mood unaltered by my rejection of the acid, began dutifully filing my feet. However, in a final display of comic genius, he did begin singing Cisco's heartwarming and well known hip-hop hit "The Thong Song" in a voice that only an Asian American male pedicurist can produce. "Let me see dat thoooooong!" He crooned, as he looked up at me. I silently cursed myself for, once again, wearing a skirt while getting a pedicure, and I shoved the folds of fabric on my lap deeper in between my legs so that not even one sliver of light would reach my "no-no" parts, as Kelsey called them.
On the up-side, my feet looked FABULOUS, and the three of us did manage to completely weird-out an elderly woman who was getting her nails done by having a rather loud conversation about Brazilian waxes. I figure I broke even with humiliation/entertainment that day.
As my pedicure progressed, I looked down and realized that the all-too-friendly Asian American man that was working on my feet seemed to be breaking out in a sweat. He had been attempting to file off the calluses on my heels for a good fifteen minutes, and to no avail. He finally said, "You want calluses off? I charge you five dollars."
I was slightly taken aback, thinking that he had just said he was going to charge me five dollars extra to continue sawing on my hooves. However, I glanced at his little cart of goodies next to my chair and realized that he was motioning to a corroded looking jar with a well-worn label. I picked up the jar, and upon closer inspection I realized it was a jar of well...ACID. A jar of acid that they had obviously had in stock for far too long, and that was only cracked open when people with freak-show feet came in with concrete calluses. "Umm...you want to put acid on my feet?" I questioned. He nodded encouragingly.
While this whole event unfolded, Jill was nearly falling out of her chair she was laughing so hard, and I think Kelsey may have peed a little. In the most polite voice that I could muster, I replied, "Umm, no thanks, I'm going organic. I don't put acid in or on my body."
He smiled at me as he motioned to my impenetrable skin and said, "Dis why you single. Dis why you have no boyfriend." Amazing. Not only was he able to look at me and deduce that I was single, but he could also pinpoint the exact reason for my solitary life. Independence, Choice, Non wavering belief in staying away from anyone who belongs to a Clan or Guild are, apparently, not among the reasons that I am currently flying solo. Nope, the man giving me a pedicure had, in five minutes, deduced that I am single because of my Camp feet.
Well, this really pushed Jill and Kelsey over the edge, and they immediately deemed Jades Nails the best place EVER to get a pedicure. They agreed that the hour long drive from Sacramento was well worth it for the comedy show.
The man shrugged his shoulders, and, mood unaltered by my rejection of the acid, began dutifully filing my feet. However, in a final display of comic genius, he did begin singing Cisco's heartwarming and well known hip-hop hit "The Thong Song" in a voice that only an Asian American male pedicurist can produce. "Let me see dat thoooooong!" He crooned, as he looked up at me. I silently cursed myself for, once again, wearing a skirt while getting a pedicure, and I shoved the folds of fabric on my lap deeper in between my legs so that not even one sliver of light would reach my "no-no" parts, as Kelsey called them.
On the up-side, my feet looked FABULOUS, and the three of us did manage to completely weird-out an elderly woman who was getting her nails done by having a rather loud conversation about Brazilian waxes. I figure I broke even with humiliation/entertainment that day.
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