What A Weekend

Let me tell you, because I know you are DYING to hear all about it.

On Friday night boyfriend and I decided to take my parents out. We bought them dinner and took them to see Journey to the Center of the Earth 3-D! Other than Captain EO, 3-D kinda sucks balls. It always gives me an immense headache and then you try to take off your nifty space-age plastic glasses and the triple-vision of the screen without them is even worse. I have to tell you though; they have made some technological advancements in 3-D technology. You still have to wear those sexy glasses, but the lenses aren’t blue and red, they look fairly normal (for a cheap version of a blues brother). Also, they saved the really crazy pop-out stuff for special occasions, and the movie looked pretty normal the rest of the time. I was pretty impressed, how could I not be with a Brandon Fraser movie?

Saturday was my pseudo-aunt’s 30th wedding anniversary, so the most awesome Boyfriend ever flew the four of us up to Napa for lunch. While they went off and have there romantic lunch, Boyfriend and I sat at the bar and ate…a lot. We watched all the Olympic skull racing that one would want to see (and more…considering that nobody would really want to watch skull racing) and hung out for a few hours. It was nice, our waitress was a spaz, but that was ok cause she kept filling up my diet coke every time I drank more that an inch out of the glass. She was my favorite and got a big fat tip.

We got home from our bay airplane tour (which made me appreciate not living in SF all the more, because lets just say that all we could see of SF was the tippy top of Sutro Tower and as fluffy as those clouds looked from the top, they probably just made things cold, sad and depressing gray below) and began to pack for our next prospecting mission (next weekend). We packed our backpacks and went over our scenarios of “what if we see a bear” or “what if I fall down” and the rope tied around my waist and the large machete that Boyfriend is bringing along ended those conversations quickly.

On Sunday, we woke up at the buttcrack of dawn…make that more like the taint of dawn, because there is no light to be seen at 4 am. We drove in sleepy silence to the Santa Cruz harbor to go fishing. Aboard a friends fishing boat, I quickly found cover from the cold in the cozy little cabin. I napped until it got warm…that took awhile. When the sun came out, so did I and I actually caught TWO fish. One was too small and I released him back to his home. The other one was not the biggest, but he was the prettiest, and in my world of non-fish eating…that is way better. I got sunburned on my face…again…proving once and for all to me that the sunscreen that I have used on the last three outings is ineffective. Burn me once…shame on you…burn me three times…I need to buy new sunscreen.

Storm Watch…dun dun dun

Tonight…on the ten o’clock news…rain. OMG!

Ok…so the Bay Area is in the midst of a sucky storm…knocking out some power, flooding some gutters and causing people to drive like even bigger idiots than normal…but from the news you would think it was the end of the world.

Last night I get home and turn on the television hoping to find some lame Friends rerun to watch…but no…every channel…Storm Watch…StormTracker…Eye on the Storm…

I get it…its raining. I know that the writer’s strike is leaving the television lineup pretty sparse these days…but seriously…is some interview with an old man in a fisherman’s hat talking about howling wind keeping him up at night really newsworthy enough to interrupt the regularly scheduled programming?

Upsides of the weather:

• Galoshes. I figured today was the day that I could get away with sporting my beige plaid printed galoshes. Hey…its all over the news…you have to be prepared.
• The weather is a perfectly appropriate conversation topic when the weather is this ugly…so no more awkward elevator rides for awhile.
• Snow! Tahoe is supposed to get nine feet this weekend! That means more powder to cushion my ass when I fall.

My Arms Might Fall Off

No…its not the leprosy. I went snowboarding last weekend.

There finally was enough snow…just as I was beginning to panic that my season pass was going to be utilized by going to the resort and building mudmen.

The slopes were in pretty good shape for the first big weekend, but my physical condition…that is another story.

I learned to snowboard last season…not well…but well enough to not fall down every five feet. So apparently snowboarding is not like riding a bicycle.

You might wonder how a person’s arms would hurt from snowboarding. “Don’t you use your legs?” you might ask. “Well, yes you do,” I would respond. “But when you fall down you have to lift your fat ass off the snow…over…over…and over...your arms begin to tire.”

So yeah…I have also disproved that rule about only hurting for a couple of days after using new muscles, because it is Wednesday and my arms still feel like death.

But I have a pretty new snowboard and I just bought this hat which fills me with much joy and anticipation for its arrival.

C-C-C-C-C-COLD!

Chicago? In November? Really? What moron decided that was a good time and place for a conference.

I am sitting here in my parka in my fancy hotel room contemplating starting a small fire in the corner to thaw my nose out, because no matter how far I crank the thermostat up...it remains just above zero up in here.

Yes I am a wussy Californian, used to my cushy state with its lavish sun and overly-temperate weather, but seriously…ITS COLD!

I would write about the Mr. Chatterbox and Stinky McStinkison that I sat between on flight here or the near fire-breathing rage that I experienced earlier today…but unfortunately as the temperature of my fingers drops, my number of typos increases…and just trying to type this has taken like four hours.

A Sandy Beach…In Your Pants!

Pismo was great fun…once you got past the rain, the fog, the cold and the hurricane-strength winds. Other than that (and the sand-filled orifices) it was super fun.

The one thing that never ceases to amaze me are the differences between male and female motor skills. Not motor skills like moving fingers and toes or speaking…but skills involved in motor vehicles. I am not saying women are inferior drivers…actually in many cases I could put together a pretty compelling argument to the contrary. What I am talking about is more the style and aggressiveness of male verses female drivers.

Is absolute fearlessness in men an inherent trait? Cause I don’t know about you, but when I sit atop of mountain of sand with nothing but air below me…the first thought that comes into my mind isn’t, “hey lets jump off this shit!” That might be the last thing from my mind actually…but inexplicably, there are boys blowing past me, leaping off this sand cliff.

“If they can do it, I can do it.” I tell myself. But regardless of my inner monologue, I am not loving the idea of the images in my mind of all the things that could possibly go wrong…mostly involving limbs flailing and skulls cracking.

I finally mustered the courage…and I did it. It wasn’t bad. But that didn’t make me ready to dive off every crazy dune I came across for the rest of the day. The boys can be crazy…I’ll stick to the path with least risk…that nice sloping one.

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

I awoke with a start as the pouring rain slammed my windowpane. A flash of lightning illuminated the clock on the wall…midnight…exactly.

As my sleepy eyes adjusted to the dark, a shadow materialized in the corner of my bedroom, its large and ominous shape silhouetted against the wall at the foot of my bed. I gasped and pulled my blankets up under my chin, as if that would protect me.

I felt the lump of panic rising in my throat. I looked for an escape…none to be found. I thought about screaming for help but my voice had inexplicably disappeared.

A strange crinkling noise marked each move closer and closer to me. And then it was upon me…taking all the air from my lungs. I gasped for a breath while its razor-sharp edge sliced small painful cuts across my knuckles.

As one more flash of lightning revealed my attacker’s face I shrieked in horror at…the biggest…to-do list…ever.

Ahhhh Autumn

I love fall. I really do. My birthday is in the fall. Halloween is in the fall. Thanksgiving, sweater weather and orange leaves are all part of the whole fall thing.

But I’m telling you…this year it really crept up and bit me in the ass. Wasn’t it like a week ago that I seriously believed that I was going to spontaneously combust from the goddamn heat? Wasn’t it summer yesterday? It is so cold. Cold and windy. Normally I would be ok with the changing seasons, but normally I would have some time to ease into it. I was caught unawares. I haven’t familiarized myself with my fall wardrobe. I’m not used to having to close my window at night. I am feeling so…so…cold.

Okay Mr. Gore…I Believe You

HOLY…HELL…IT’S HOT.

Menopausal women have nothing on me. I might die from hotness. Not the good kind of hotness either…the kind of hotness where you are so sticky with fiery ovenlike heat that you want to take off you clothes and sit in a giant ice bath. Today is supposed to be equally roasty and I am not looking forward to it.

I also find myself conflicted in that while it was still 114 out this morning (I don’t have a thermometer, but I swear I don’t exaggerate) I know that it will be a breezy 60 at my desk all day. So I will shiver in my short sleeves inside or fry in my sweater outside. So I guess I have to dress in layers. But even if I came to work naked…I think I would still die from the rush of flaming heat that would hit my lungs when I leave work this evening. I hope to see you all tomorrow. If I don’t you, know what happened…

Here Lies Ashley
She Was Burned Alive
The End