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.