I -heart- Colorado

Why do I love Colorado? Is it the high concentration of excellent local microbreweries? The clean air? The uncrowded and friendly DMV offices? Sure. But I also love that the Rocky Mountains are an hour and a half away from our front door. We went camping this last weekend and enjoyed beautiful views and some great hiking.



We had such a good time, in fact, that in a couple weeks we'll be tackling our first two Fourteeners (kids, this is outdoorsy jargon for any mountain over 14,000 feet high), of which there are like 52 in Colorado alone. Needless to say, we'll be starting with the easy ones.

There were still snowbanks up at this elevation (somewhere between 10,000 and 11,000 feet) which made for great photos. But we had no idea...

That the trail would take us through the damn stuff. It was nice and hot out that day, so we both refreshed ourselves by putting little scoops of snow under our hats. Ahhhh.

Please, please, click on this picture to see the big version. It's just that good.

We looked a little goofy because it was bright out and we didn't realize we were squinting when we took off our sunglasses for the photos.

This is Ginsu Master Chris. He was so proud of himself for thinking to bring the cutlery like this. He laid it all out on a towel and then rolled the towel up and secured it with a bungee cord. Brilliant.

Funundrum Wedding Horror Hall of Fame

I found this as I find most of the oddities on the Intartubes... a link to a link to a link. Without further adieu, I present the Site Most Likely to Keep You Awake Tonight -- Wedding Dolls by Barbara.

From the dead, dead eyes of the brides and their creepy-ass matching dolls to the terrible web design, this site has it all. For the faint of heart and for those who seriously hate horizontal-scroll websites that default to the RIGHT side of the page (grr), here's a small collection from Barbara's nuptial house of horrors.

The picture kind of reminds me of my mom's wedding pictures, though my mom was far more fetching. The bride doll, though, is just scary. I think Barbara's only found one source for glasses that fit 24" dolls. She should keep looking.

This doll commemorates everything that was wrong with the 80s, including giant floppy bridal hats, shiny shiny satin, and lace chokers. Please, people. Just because you saw it on Dynasty does not make it right.

In a darkened room full of bridal dolls, this is assuredly the one that would start moving first, fomenting a full-on rebellion against the human tormentors. Remember, these things are a full 2 feet tall. Tall enough to stab you in the knee and then scramble up to break your neck in their tiny porcelain hands.

What is this?

Poor thing. She knew she would never find a husband so she got a replica doll made of her white beaded prom dress. Better hurry up there with the flatiron, honey. Your brother's pulling the station wagon out of the garage even as we speak. I bet if you slip the DJ a fiver tonight, he'll play your favorite Def Leppard song. Go 80s.

The kicker is that these handcrafted minions of Satan will set you back $835 a piece. Get two, maybe that way they'll bicker between themselves and never hunt you while you sleep.

The human mind frightens me.

Remember Nintendo? Remember Nintendo back when it was a big grey plastic box with front-loading 72-pin game cartridges that worked for about a year before you had to start blowing in them to clear the dust out? Yeah, me too. It was my favorite game system ever. I only had about five games, but that's all I needed to be happy. I miss my Nintendo.

You can find emulators online that will let you play Mario Bros., but it's not the same. Without a little rectangular controller to hold that has buttons positioned just so, it's impossible to recapture the disturbingly accurate muscle memory attained at age 10. Chris solved that problem by finding a guy online who sells real live NES controllers that have been rebuilt with a USB attachment.

It works great -- the scary part is how good I am at Mario Bros. after ten or fifteen years off the horse. I made it through 15 levels (up to world 3-3) without dying once, and made it to world 6-4 before succumbing to the heartbreak of Game Over. It's almost frightening how my fingers found free lives, power-ups, and shortcuts that my brain had forgotten about, and how my brain bid my little man to move out of the way of dangers that hadn't even come on screen yet. Why can't I remember everything that well?

Back to jumping on walking mushrooms now, bye.

Stupid lazy Americans

After I saw the individually-shrink wrapped potatoes being sold because they're more convenient to microwave that way, I thought America's produce sections had reached the zenith of lazy stupidity.

Today, I saw something that made me reconsider my fellow countrymen's apparently boundless desire to reduce the amount of vegetable prep time as much as humanly possible.

Right there, next to the normal white, yellow, and red onions selling for $1.49 a pound, there were bins full of PEELED white, yellow, and red onions selling for $1.99 a pound. Pre-peeled onions. Assuming the average large onion weighs in at about a pound, that means I'm paying someone 50 cents to peel my onion. Scale that labor cost up to the rest of my dinner ingredients, and I might as well go to a restaurant and not have to cut up and cook my own damn food.

IT'S NOT LIKE ONIONS ARE HARD TO PEEL. THEY HAVE LAYERS, LIKE PARFAIT AND OGRES. *pant* *pant* Stupid Americans.

Excellent website of the day

I'd like to present to my readers a perfect little gem called Passive Aggressive Notes. Think of every brilliantly scathing note you've ever left for inconsiderate roommates, disgusting office co-workers, or even complete strangers. Don't you wish that the best ones could have been catalogued for posterity? I'm not saying every note on this site is worth your time, but it's a fun little project nonetheless.

Why are you insulting my intelligence and goodwill?

I hate Cosmopolitan. I have hated Cosmo for at least a year, but it doggedly continues to show up in my mailbox because I'm not sure how long I subscribed to it. I have now acheived the level of hatred for Cosmo previously reserved only for Rolling Stone. I may be the only person with strong feelings for magazines, but there you have it.

I was flipping through the latest Cosmo so I could throw it away before anyone saw it on my coffee table. I bashfully present to my readers, in its entirety, the most offensive paragraph in magazine history. Its holistically terrible nature prevents me from editing it.

COSMO GOES GREEN
We're all concerned about protecting the environment, but sometimes the problem seems so huge, it's hard to know where to even start. Well, Cosmo is taking an easy step toward a better planet, and I hope you'll join us. Beginning with this month's issue, you'll see a Please Recycle logo in every Cosmo as a reminder of the simple effort it takes to make a big difference.

Okay, I left off the last couple of sentences as they consisted of recycling statistics calculated to make me feel like a terrible person. But before that -- really? Printing a "Please Recycle" logo is all it takes to "go green"? That's the best news ever! I'm off to the craft store for a stencil and a can of Krylon! There are a few Hummers in my neighborhood that could stand to go green. Could someone recycle George Bush? That would do a great service for those of us wishing to go green.

Also, what terrible writing. Cosmo takes the "easy step" of printing a logo, and they want you to join them? In... what exactly? Printing a logo? Please refer back to my can of Krylon to determine what a fantastically useful idea that is.

Okay, I've got the spins from that little bit of stupidity. I'm off to throw away -- check that, recycle -- my Cosmo before anyone sees it on my coffee table.

Bad translation goodness

I just found this piece of paper on which I had written the customs allowances for handicapped people arriving in Mexico:

"Handicapped travelers may introduce items for personal use, useful to have a better performace of their activities."

We chuckled. That is all. Please enjoy the rest of your weekend.