Liz hate snow.

[Warning: the following post devolves into Finnegan's Wake-style stream-of-consciousness , partly because of rage and despair, and partly because of vodka.]

Okay, I don't hate the snow, but I am not a fan of driving home after it's been snowing all day in above-freezing temperatures, meaning that the roads stayed melted all day until the exact second that the temperature dipped below 0 (Celcius, of course. One never realizes the full extent of Fahrenheit's retardedness until one moves somewhere where it actually freezes regularly. 32? Whose 3-am super-high idea was that? "Dude, okay, check it out check it out check it out. Okay. Wait. Okay. What if, like, everything didn't freeze at zero? What if, like, it froze at a totally random temperature like 32? Woah. I just totally blew your mind. Who wants Del Taco?")

So anyway, I was driving home today after it had been snowing all day in above-freezing temperatures, right up until the temperature dipped below 0/32. My office is really close to the freeway. When I leave work at 6, even with Denver's "rush hour" (they are so cute), I make it to the freeway within four minutes.

Today it took me 90 minutes. An hour and a half.

An hour and a half. That's the length of most Disney movies. I could have watched "The Little Mermaid" in the time it took me to go about a mile. I could have watched three episodes of Family Guy, with commercials and everything, which is something I never do because of Tivo. I'm trying to come up with another analogy about how long an hour and a half is, without relating it to visual media, but I'm having a hard time. I guess I could take my dog on a really long walk in 90 minutes

So to pass the time, I listened to Bernard Fanning's "Tea & Sympathy," which Funundrum highly recommends. He's the lead singer of Powderfinger, an excellent Australian band that Funundrum also highly recommends. Check with me for details. Please forgive me. I've had two stiff drinks at this point in the post, and I'm starting to wander.

I also penned this rant:

I thought about spending this precioius time writing a will, but insted I'll make
a very valid point: When the cars on the other side of the intersection have not
moved for the last four light cycles, do not be the asshole who thinks that your
car belongs behind them, like maybe this is the lucky draw and you're going to
win the intersection lottery. You're not being stealthy. You're not flying
Wonder Woman's invisible jet. You're just holding up cross traffic, making the
rest of us look bad, and generally being part of the problem. Of course, never
mind that I'm listening to an iPod because my FM transmitter has gone missing
and I'm writing on a scrap of paper on top of a Frank Sinatra double album in
the dark.

At least I felt a pang of guilt. Anyway, after I passed a certain point, the traffic let up and I turned down another major street to make my way home. Unfortunately, about halfway, it was closed due to accidents and stranded cars and I had to turn off into an unfamiliar neighborhood. Now, I will turn off into just about any unfamilar neighborhood this side of Compton or perhaps northside Dublin (at least when I'm sober -- northside Dublin apparently doesn't faze me after a few pints). However, this particular neighborhood hid a menace that Dublin and Compton can't boast -- icy-ass roads. This is the kind of ice that looks like a zamboni took care of it. It's kind of creepy. I was taking the whole thing at about 5 mph, and I was still sliding into the curb from time to time.

Then I got lost.

Then I got stuck.

I was behind several other people who seemed to know where they were going, and they all came to a dead stop at the bottom of a gentle slope, seemingly to navigate their way around a couple of cars that had gotten stuck on the hill. Now, I'm talking about a 15 degree grade here. Nothing major. But imagine you weigh 1000 pounds, and you're trying to roll up a slick hill on wheels. Yeah. Pretty lame. Well, I had to do that in my Honda Civic. Needless to say, I got stuck about 3/4 of the way up. For those of you who have never lived in the less-temperate climes, let me fill you in. You're in your car. It won't go up, because it can't get enough traction to get you there. You can go down, but your only option is to back into a side street where you can a) call your friends who have weak-ass Japanese or German cars like you and can't come pick you up or b) find somewhere to pee in the snow and wait for your fiance to get out of business school for the evening so he can come pick you up.

It was at that moment that I began to cry. I cried that whiny sort of cry, where I tell myself that I'm tired, and I just want to go home, and I'm stuck and I hate everyone. Then, because I'm awesome, the most amazing thing (usually) happens: I hear the voice of Mammy, from Gone with the Wind -- it's not the exact quote, and it never has been, but I always hear "You've been strong for so long, Miss Scarlett -- you just got to keep on being strong." And I dried my tears, and kept going, and after a very nice man pushed me the rest of the way up the hill (thank you thank you!!!) I finally found my way home, two and one-half hours after leaving work. This is why I've had a couple drinks, and I'm glad to say Chris is home from school and we're going to find something to eat. This is why I'm going to enjoy the hell out of Colorado while I'm here, but I'm looking forward to moving somewhere slightly more temperate when we leave.

Thank you for listening.

Mmmm... gelatinis

So a few friends and I made the long trek downtown (read: comfortable, traffic-free 20 minute drive) to go to this place that one of them had heard about. It is primarily a gelato shop, with dozens of wonderful flavors of freshly made gelato on hand. It is also a bar, and they combine the two concepts with surprising result. Their signature cocktails are "gelatinis," which are blended concoctions of -- you guessed it, gelato and booze. I had a grapefruit gelato and vodka drink, as well as a raspberry lemonadey thing. They had chocolatey ones, and many other types of fruity ones, and it was super cool and cheap to boot, due to the "It's 30 outside right now, wouldn't you like some ice cream" promotion they had going on.

Anyway, I just wanted to share the fact that someone out there is making new cocktails and my, are they tasty. No, you can't have it -- there are only two locations and the other one's in Ft. Collins, Colorado.

... really?

This headline really jumped out at me today on CNN. Now, I don't, as a rule, use racial slurs. I'm an equal opportunity hater, meaning I am willing to hate you no matter what color you are, as long as you're stupid and hindering my existence. So if I noticed this, chances are good that someone else did too. For shame, CNN.*

Japan's Slopes Emerge as International Ski Magnet

See, the first thing I thought was, "Wait, do they mean the people or the mountains?" Which is wrong and terrible and whatever, but also funny. You're telling me, Mr. CNN Staff Writer, that you couldn't come up with a different way to say that without using a fairly widespread disparaging term for Asians? Really?

* I know, I was supposed to stop reading CNN, but old habits are hard to break and come ON! If I would have been reading BBC, you never would have gotten this post.

Number One News Story with a Bullet

I've noticed a disturbing recent trend on CNN.com. Well, two recent trends, the first of which being its inexorable descent into crappiness. The second trend, the one I'd like to talk about now, is their tendency to preface just about every one of their news stories with a "Story Highlights" box that manages to summarize the entire story in three bullet points. For example, if the Second Coming were to occur some time in the next week, the Story Highlights would probably read something like this:

• Jesus Christ returns nearly 2000 years after his abrupt departure from earth
• Christ claims he will judge the living and dead for placement in either eternal glory or damnation
• "I knew all them horsemen in the sky meant something was up," says area man.

Now, I only begrudgingly read CNN.com because it offers a pretty good overall idea of the world's news. However, I really hate feeling like I'm part of the lowest common denominator that needs three-bullet story summaries. I remember a similar tactic from my first-grade reading workbooks. It's a stupid feature aimed at stupid people.

Today, CNN reached a new low. It printed a story that had something to do with Britney Spears' new bald head, and as a result was not very long. Fine. What is not fine is that they chose to grace this story, all 195 words of it, with a freaking Story Highlights box. To give you an idea of how short a story that is, this post is currently pushing 250 words. I'm not sure how mentally challenged you have to be to need a bulleted summary for a 195 word story, but I'm pretty sure that operating the computer necessary to read it would be beyond your mortal ken.

What's this brown stuff?

Over the past several days, the weather's been nice enough that the snow has really started to melt, revealing a highly unfamiliar brown surface underneath. I think, a long time ago, that we used to call it "dirt" but I can't be certain. I felt like an archaeologist yesterday, albeit a thoroughly disgusted one, as I shoveled up dog poo that had originally been deposited before Christmas. For those of you counting, that was two full months ago, and it's only now coming to light. And let me tell you, it doesn't get any less gross as time passes, it just gets crumblier every time it freezes and re-thaws.

Now that the poo has been taken care of, the next project is the Christmas lights. Yep, it's February 19, and our lights are still up. At least we're not the only ones -- between icy driveways and drifts of snow up against the houses, it's been damn near impossible for just about everyone to dismantle the holiday cheer. While I was out walking with Maggie today, I did see that Mr. Atomic Christmas had removed about 80% of his festoonery, but his full-size wicker light-up deer were still standing tall and proud.

Another thing I noticed when we were out today -- we have big sidewalks. I haven't seen this much concrete in months. When the best you get for weeks at a time is a tiny little path big enough for one person and one dog (single file), a big 6-foot-wide sidewalk meandering through the park looks like it came out of some Imagineered vision of a bright utopian future. (Please begin chirping a cheerful mod-sounding xylophone soundtrack) "Someday, Timmy, sidewalks will be big enough for a jogging soccer mom, her behemoth all-wheel terrain stroller carrying in-vitro conceived twins named Cash and Jaxson*, AND her bored Lab. Just imagine."

Now I understand why the coming of spring seems like such an amazing thing in this part of the world. Not that we're anywhere near spring.

*Seriously, two employees at work have, within the last six months, given birth to children and given them the abominations of "Cash" and "Jaxson" as names. I weep for the future.

Not in California Any More, Part 537

I got a card in the mail yesterday from Washington Mutual. When I took it out of the envelope, it looked all generic and I figured it was a stock birthday card that thanked me for keeping all my money at Washington Mutual.



When I opened it, however, I was shocked to find that it was, in fact, a hand-written birthday card that had been signed and doodled on by several of the employees from my local branch.

It just floored me. I come from a state with a population of more than 26 million people, a good number of which surely bank at Washington Mutual. This sort of shenanigan would never work in California.

Anyway, it was a nice gesture and certainly the most thoughtful thing that a financial institution has ever done for me.

Maggie update

Yay! Maggie is going to be just fine. She's only gotten her cone off once, during which time she performed her own minor surgery and removed her 6 inch drainage tube. Fortunately, she did that on the day the tube was supposed to come out anyway, so good times. The biggest challenge now is to keep her from running for the next week or so. That's right, we have to keep our greyhound from running. *sigh* It's an uphill battle. But she's back to her old self now, so we're pretty happy.

Note to concerned readers: The dog park where this incident occurred is not the same dog park where Maggie got threatened by a pit bull a couple months back. It turns out that bad dog owners are randomly spaced throughout the universe. Stupid people.

The day after the accident (you can see part of the ouchie behind her hind leg):

and today:

Okay, I don't have a picture. I do, but I'm in it and my teeth are all purple from our belated Valentine's Day dinner of pizza and wine (an '03 California cab sav called Dog House and an '04 SE Australian merlot from Rosemount)... we couldn't really go out on account of the dog. It was still nice.

Nothing funny today, sorry.

Aside from nothing much happening over the last couple of weeks, this next week might be a little dry too. Yesterday, when I took Maggie to the dog park, she got bit by a Siberian husky and needed a lot of stitches. She's on antibiotics and pain medications now, and she'll probably be just fine in about a week. Taking care of her is challenging, as she can't use her dog door and we have to watch her all the time to make sure she doesn't run around and tear up her wound, not that she's feeling up to it yet. Chris is fortunate enough to be able to work from home for a few days to take care of her.

So anyway, we're both angry and upset and a little scared, and so I don't know how much will be up on Funundrum for a few days. Maybe, when it looks funny instead of terrifying, I'll post a picture of Maggie in her cone.

Son of wedding accessory horrors

Or daughter, I guess, to be precise. This little girl creeps the hell out of me. In all these pictures, she looks like she's focusing her death laser eyebeams, or silently communicating with her dark lord via her enormous echolocating forehead.

Optional dialogue to try whilst viewing these pictures:

1. "The sun! It burns us, my Precious!"

2. "Whoomp whoomp whoomp whoomp WHOOMP WHOOMP whoomp" (Same Flash Gordon-y type noise as HypnoDog™.)

3. "...." (Because there are no words for wishing someone's mangled, half-human form out into the corn field.) (Extra points for people who remember this, one of the creepiest Twilight Zone episodes ever. It was an excellent short story first, but no need to get technical.)

Wedding accessory horrors

Part of the fun of looking through pictures of wedding dresses and accessories is mocking the models. Often, the most mockable models are those who appear to be starring in the new hit sitcom "Tacky Jersey Wedding."



I found something the other day that surpassed anything from the Shangri-La that is New Jersey. It was modeling tiaras and headbands. Without further ado, I bring you... prom leftovers from West Sheboygan High, 1998. Okay, not really, but this is what ugly Midwesterners look like in my mind. Yes, I am aware that I'm a bad person.

This is clearly a man. There is no other explanation.

"Hi... yeah, I know. The hair's awful, the tiara's got way too much going on, and my picture is next to a man dressed up like a bride. The best I can do is scrunch up my nose knowingly and pray for your sympathy."

As you can see, this particular tiara belongs to the Waffle House Waitress collection. "Please, hon, can you decide whether you want your hash browns smothered and covered or not? These dyeable pumps are killing me and my smoke break started two minutes ago."

This photo does the best job of convincing me that this individual has two X chromosomes. However, was it really too much trouble to pop out and buy half a dozen real roses for the photo shoot? Oh, it was? Then how about getting fake roses in a color that actually appears in nature? It's like they did the shoot behind a gas station and they were limited to whatever was for sale next to the cash register. Their choices were this purple rose, an astrology scroll, or a lighter with Tweety Bird on it.

Also, does anyone else find it disconcerting that she may very well be nude in this photo? Me too.