Happy 60th Birthday Mom!

Except for the black lips (from the black icing on her cake procured by her ungrateful, mean daughters) Carolyn looks pretty good for a senior citizen.

Steaks, shrimp, and scallops. And cake, of course, which I had to hand in to Michelle through the bathroom window so Mom wouldn't see it.




Now we are all stuffed and in need of some serious exercise. Good thing I have a nine mile run to do tomorrow.

Turn Me Loose!

I was born to run,
I was born to dream,
The craziest girl you ever seen,
I gotta do it my way,
Or no way at all.

Me and Mom and Michelle were gonna go out on the boat today.
No where in particular, just trying to get some sun (and since Skip busted his ass to get it ready before we got here, we kinda felt obligated.)
So we got some boiled peanuts and Smirnoff Ice and headed to the Island.

Sadly, upon arrival we observed the vessel had a pronounced list. Apparently, she was taking on water. We called the Captain and he stopped by and confirmed. Our poor boat was sinking. So we stayed in harbour and ate our nuts. It was actually easier. I could have mentioned it in an earlier post, but boating is a pain in the ass.
Much easier to hang at the docks and pretend.


It was a nice afternoon and a nice way to start out Mom's 60th birthday!

Back with my People

Took the red-eye to FL Monday night. It went fairly smoothly, but it was tiring.

I always know when I'm on the last leg home cos the percentage of tan, gold chain wearing, bright clothes sporting, plump people goes way up.
Strangers start to talk to you.
Men like to wear knives and cell phones on their belts.
Women are using a disproportionate amount of hairspray per capita.

These are my people. Although I would never willingly live here again, it's nice to be temporarily back in the fold.

Here, it's go big or go fucking home. Temperance and good taste are not encouraged.
It's nice to take a break from the oppressive good sense, political correctness, and prudeness of the Great Northwest.

Example: Mom asked me to put together some cocktails while she was frying up some porkchops. So I grab five cocktail glasses and head for the ice machine. "Why don't you use the big glasses?!" she asks. Why indeed?! If some is good, then a shitload is better. So change out the glasses and get down the Sam's Club size liquor bottles and mix it up.

My people.

It's all about the meat.

Chillin' in the islands. Sounds good.
Sailing in the San Juans. Sounds great.
Prime Rib. Tipping point.

Josh and Shelly invited Spanky and me up to Josh's Mom's place this past weekend.
I was wary (new places, new people) but it sounded nice.

Reality:

1- Cool house. Hot tub (unused sadly). Sweeping views. Large TV.

2-World's worst tap water- worse than Florida.

3-World's slowest sailboat race. (Offsetted by most genius solution to missing mainsail pin.)

Interlude: "Why, why, why would the fucking Raiders take McFadden? They didn't exactly have a problem running the ball last year." I mused, while stuffing peanut butter bread down my maw.



4-Unbelievable Prime Rib. Homemade coffee cake. And Ice Cream at every meal.

Island life is nice. Don't know if I could take it, but theoretically, it's nice.
You seem to know everyone and vice versa. I think this would make me more prone to violent outbursts. At least, it would be much easier to find hiding places for bodies.
"I don't know where s/he is. Maybe they fell in the water?"

The Three Stages of Drinking Games

Despite a promise to myself to relax this weekend and not put myself on a timetable, I made a drunken proposal at the Chapel about a potluck. Then the old "I make the best fried chicken ever" claim I've been making for years got called. Rats.

So Saturday, we're gonna have a potluck and I'm making fried chicken. Fuck.
A few burner fires and several hours later, it's finally done. Everyone is so hungry, they gobble it down and swear it is the best ever.

Whatever, it's done. Then we move onto games and tequila. Sue has the idea that the loser drinks. Somehow, the buzzer always ends up in her hands. For someone who doesn't like tequila....

People Never Change

I knew this already.
But like most people, I live for validation.

Me and Steve and Shelly and Josh and Casey went to Happy Hour at the Chapel on Friday to see Sue and her college roomate Leta.
I always like to make an effort to meet out of town folks and friends- but there was extra incentive this time.

Here was someone who knew Sue much longer than me.
Not only can she confirm the pathology that is Sue (which she did) but also fills out the timeline.
This was no head injury. Sue is a genuine product of nature and nurture.
It could happen again, God help us.

Well anyway, it was another excuse to drink. And drink we did. Our bitchy gay waiter brought lots when he felt like it. Whiskey, mint gimlets, lavender martinis, and beer.

Casey had to leave three drinks in to go break up with a guy she wasn't dating on his birthday.
Nice.










Oh well, not every ends up in a happy pairing like this one.


For example:



(Actually, I'm just screaming at paparazzi.)

Adventure in the Burbs

Steve and I went up to the Tulalip Outlet to look for him some new clothes. Found a few things. I got some stuff from L'Occitane but that shop sucks now compared to when they first opened. We didn't have much time but it was nice to shop without all the hordes of people usually there on the weekends.
Incidentally, I hate people.

Then... (drumroll).... the whole reason I really went up there... we went to RED LOBSTER! My Uncle Bob and Aunt Ernestine gave me a gift card for Christmas and I was anxious to use it.
We went to the Wood (Lynnwood, that is) and found the Red Lobster right beside Olive Garden, of course.
We shared the Admiral's Feast and a cookie and ice cream dessert. (I don't give a fuck if you are tired of sharesies, Shelly! I like to share. I'm a sharer. Fuck off!) I took the cheese biscuits home in a napkin in my pocket but we forgot to eat them.


Olga knew we were going and she suggested we also try McCafe. She swears it's good. You can get a big latte for $1.69! And they use nice machines. But alas, we didn't have time. Spanky says he wouldn't go anyway. We'll see.

And the Curse is broken.

Stop me if you've heard this one.
So Shelly turned 13 on Friday the 13th.
During that year, 13 people that she knew personally went to meet their maker.
Needless to say, many of us were somewhat concerned when she turned 30 on Friday the 13th.
Seems like we all made it in one piece and the year is mercifully over.




And there was much rejoicing.

The whole gang went up Sunday to close Steven's Pass down and bid a year of bad juju good bye.
Spring conditions! Snow was slow but so what! The sun was out!
Steven's knows how to shut down. There was a band that was too loud, the usual Dummy Downhill, and a Pond Skimming contest that we all threatened to enter. We managed to come up with excuses (I don't want to get my boots wet) and wild promises about next year (Steve is going to enter wearing a sports bra and a grass skirt!)
Sat on our asses and drank Gin & Tonics and ate cake instead.

Next year.....

Low Expectations- Part 1

Last week, anticipating her Birthday, Shelly insisted that all she wanted as a present is for everyone to dress up and go out. I'm sure she would have loved to make everyone go dance as well but she didn't press her luck.
So on Saturday, I complied, and donned the same outfit I had for Steve's b-day and headed to meet the gang at the Chapel. This was a dual celebration for Shelly and Kathleen.
Due to an unfortunate confluence of my many maladies, I was unable to partake of my favorite Chapel beverage, the Sacred Truth, and therefore did not come close to reaching my obnoxious potential. I settled for cranberry juice. Not vodka and cranberry juice. Just cranberry juice. Lame.

We found out that Kathleen is really horny.
Courtney ,an actress, does not like Shakespeare. (Oh, the humanity!)
And, even worse, Josh Linard is not moving west after all.

We left the Kathleen/Courtney crew and headed over to Machivelli's for dinner.
I must say, it's nice to have a permanent meal sharing partner. (Not that I'll lose any weight as a consequence, naturally. Don't know why I bother!)
Me and Steve had Chicken Parm and it was way good. (Normally, of course, I would have gotten the Carbonara (previous post) but we had had that the night before at his neighbor hood Italian joint.)

Had to say goodnight early since we were headed up to Steven's Pass the next day.
No geriatric jokes, please.

End of Mission 2008

You: What's going on here?
Me: Couldn't tell you. They're posing, I guess.
You: Grown men?
Me: Yes. (Sheepishly) One's my BF.
You: Hmm. (Sympathetically)

The context, however, is that Bruce, Steve, and I made a mid-season promise to close out Mission Ridge and that's what we did.
Some random guy on the lift back in February named Leo encouraged us to come over the last day cos it was a big party and he was going to BBQ 200 pounds of meat.
So we did.

Either Leo didn't show or he was the guy that got toted out on a stretcher that morning cos we never saw him. Even the lodge ran out of food during lunch! We got screwed on the food front.
What we did get was Mission Ridge's famous perfectly groomed corduroy. And that's all you can really ask for. Luckily, Don Julio and candy is very filling.

As the day wore on it actually got sunny. Could almost see Mt. Stewart.

Mad Props

to Olga and Chuck and my peeps in CP!
Got back from my hair appointment and 10 mile run to take a shower and I had a few messages.
All those bitches I complain about from work were looking out for me!

Even though I'd remembered I needed to get my TB test read today (or have to get repoked next week) I promptly forgot and just left.
That's especially cool since I ditched them at work at noon.

Sniff, sniff.

Anyways, I had just enough time to be evaluated by the evil nurse contingent before they closed. Hookers.

Don' t tase me bro!

God Olga! Usually you are so hip- how could you not know that gem.
(From a U of FL alum no less!)

Speaking of losers- check out these drunks I found at the appropriately named "Rock Bottom Brewery". They were selling micro drafts for $2 and raffle tickets for some ovarian cancer benefit. Moths to a flame- Shelly, Josh, Sue and Steve.
I was only an hour late but they were already speaking a different drunk language. Espeicially Sue, alternatively berating all couples and then lewdly checking out guys.
Josh won intro to climbing lessons at VW- there is a God, and he is cruel.
Shelly won accupunture- need more proof?

Anyway, it was fun. But I don't think we really helped cure anyone.

Punked!

Twice in one week!

Sue, of coarse, doesn't play fair and started hers a week early.
She called and left a frantic message about Shelly being pregnant.
I was a little skeptical. Shelly had already gotten next season's ski pass and had been chugging beer as usual. But, maybe....
Olga wasn't having any of it. She doesn't trust Sue any farther than she can throw her.
I emailed Shelly and she was very evasive. I told everyone at work and Steve but included the "Sue as the source" caveat.
The truth came out Saturday at Steven's Pass. Everyone was sitting around at lunch waiting on a table and I pull out the Dun Julio shots and Shelly was right in line for that.
Hmmm?

Lame, lame, lame. But we still got a good laugh about it.

The next one was a bit more personalized.
Olga and Shelly were getting together at the Wedgewood Grill to talk planting strategies. I was invited (only cos they hadn't met in person yet, I guess.) They sent out an email about meeting at 6:30. I arrived early (as is my habit) and waited outside in my truck in the cold. At 6:20 on the nose I went in to get a table. They were already there and looking at me like I was covered in shit!
"You're late!", they exclaimed! "We were starving and already ordered!"
I started waving my arms and howling! "NO! NO! NO! You said 6:30! I have the email! I can prove it!"
"APRIL FOOL's!"

Arg! Truly suckered.

Meeting the Parents

Steve and I went up to Whidbey Island on Sunday to re-meet his folks.
I had met them before a few years ago at a party but I made a bad impression cos there were a lot of people I didn't know (which is way worse than just a lot of people) and that stressed me out.

His Mom made a cake (life is short, eat dessert first) which she admitted upfront to putting a poison and banned substance into (bitter almond?) but I ate it anyway cos it had frosting on it.

Then we went on a drive around the island where they pointed out all the historical spots, paying special attention to all the Swedish connections (of which there were a surprising number.)

Then we went to dinner at the Oyster Catcher. It was a cute little place and the food was really nice. Steve is in the halvsies camp too (I get this and you get that and we'll split it so as to not have to make a decision) like my sister and I, so that's convenient.

Said Good Night and headed back with the rest of the poison cake. (Yes, I fully intend on eating the rest of it.)