Just call me Nimble McStiffy.....

because that's who I am right now. I can barely walk I AM SO SORE!

But I did it. I ran the whole 6.2 miles, with no walking!

***

RRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrwwwwwwwwwhhhhhhhh......back up-rewind.

I actually drank this weekend, even though I vehemently pledged I would NOT. But I did not smoke. Hell, I may as well give up smoking for good I guess or something. It was so easy to JUST SAY NO to that and stuff....

(That's me being non-committal...but for the time being....smoking? Eh.)

Kev Murano was in town for the night on Friday. We had some drinks and food at the old neighborhood stand-by...Mead Street. We then took the bus downtown to The Front Porch. Did y'all know that MTV approached The Porch with a contract to be "the bar" the Denver Real World cast would hang out and Greg, the owner, said NO?! Slap! It would have been a total disaster, complete with much drama. They've started filming but no word on where the losers will actually get their drink on. (But once it's out I'm ALL OVER IT.)

1/2 kidding.

I think the boys ended up with hangovers the next morning, but not me, uh-uh. My Kev went to work, the other Kev went home to AZ and me? I snoozed for awhile before whipping up a carbalicious potato salad for a cookout, a WORK cookout full of workieworkers. Given by MY employee. She was drunk at her own picnic and I loved every second of that. No respectful employee of yours truly is really one of ME until the BUZZ is visibly had. Plus, I heard her tell her friends that I was awesome. Me! Awesome! Honey, you got a good year-end review on the horizon ;-)

Sunday I made the very big mistake of going to the Boulder Creek Festival with Lucy in tow. K was working a booth for the USFS, which I could not find seeing as there were 50fucking1000 people there and it was nearly impossible to get around, much less with a pooch straining on a 2-inch long leash. Not fun, not fun at all. The music was bad, the food overpriced, and there were wayyyyyy too many damn pairs of Crocs pounding the pavement.

Instead, I came back home and ate some, like, bread and pasta and shit. And I was kind of tired.

So I went to bed.

But I didn't sleep hardly at all. I was too keyed up!

The race was total excitement. Tons of people, everywhere. Live music on the side, spectators cheering you on. The 6 miles went by in a snap.

Look at how many people are watching when you cross the finish line....thousands! You feel like the biggest winner ever!


That's actually a skydiver there, landing in Folsom Field.

Ann and me:


Ann did awesome too! I am so glad we got off our slacker butts and ran it! Now I can put that big check mark next to RUN THE BOLDERBOULDER on my list of things to do in life and move on.

Or maybe run it again next year. Running is so freaking addictive!

Get thy holiday weekend on.

Dear lord. One more merciless hour left until I blow this pop stand for the holiday weekend.

Although, with the no drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes policy brought on by the running of the BolderBoulder, it ain't much of a holiday.

Ahem.

Allow me to change my tune, then: let's make it a holiday, rosalicious! A holiday from all those toxic liquids and noxious fumes you ingest so frequently! A break from the debauchery, the getting-of shitfaced, the drunken mayhem.

Another good thing about which to toot my own horn: I'm a lush and I run.

Take THAT drinking naysayers.....hi-YA!

I think I need more FOOD. I have myself so well-trained not to eat anything white and carby that, well, I'm just not. Just now at lunch I burned up almost 400 calories....I don't even know if I have eaten that many today.

Not that I'm complaining...I'm sure there's plenty in storage somewhere.

Do beer carbs count?

Now for something sad: one of Kevin's friends from home was murdered this week! He was found in bed with a girl he worked with by her boyfriend and the boyfriend went bazerk and beat the shit out of him. He went into a coma and then died last night. It's so awful. I hope that boyfriend goes to jail and is forced to eat his own shit, naked.

Well, don't let me spoil your weekend by leaving you with that bit of news. It's sad for sure, but you didn't know the guy.

How about a big sloppy cat-litter flavored kiss from this punkin-eater instead?


And as a public service announcement on behalf of my darling Kev: pack out your trash if you are going camping over the weekend because the nice folks at the USFS are fucking sick of picking up your nasty trash! Thanks.

Happy Memorial Day Weekend! Let the summer festivities begin!

The snooze button must be dismantled immediately!

Snnnnnooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre. So bored.

I'm being all blogger-stalkeresque today. Chances are, if you have a blog I've visited it at least 10 times today. Fuck that refresh button. Won't someone write something, anything? Update, for the love of god people, update!

Then I realized I should not be so hypocritical. Maybe y'all are refreshing MY blog.

(Ha, doubt it.)

Problem is, today: I got nothing.

Well, maybe something:

This one time? I sat next to someone on an airplane who sat there and flossed his teeth, and when he was all done he rolled that nasty floss into a neat little loop and stuffed it back in his front shirt pocket. No lie.

Alright, that didn't amuse you? How about a poem?

My eye is twitchy.
I feel a little bitchy.
Why oh why can't I be richy?

Uggh. ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZzzz.

Juan is not boring.


My hottie boyfriend drinking beer at Telluride is not boring either.


My $12 salad from Wild Oats, while I do not have a snapshot of it, is not boring nor is it unhealthy.

But I am.

UNIVERSE, THROW A GIRL A BONE OR SOMETHIN'....I'm dying here.

And this post is all about health.

I am back to using my trusty food diary. I've been slacking, ya'll, and eating Things My Nutritionist Would Not Approve Of.

Nothing passes through these lips now without getting called out on my Big Fat Page of Consumption! (And ironically enough, nothing comes out either--I track my poos, people! When you have digestive issues like me REGULARITY is a sign from the Good Lord in Heaven. I will accept nothing less than a poo at the same. time. each. day.)

Today I had something for breakfast that is a blessed miracle. Miracle Cereal, let's call it. It's basically millet, quinoa, and amaranth all boiled together into a grainy mush. Then you add a little honey or molasses, and some nuts if you're feeling frisky! It is the Miracle Cereal because I went the whole morning, PLUS a lunchtime step class, without getting hungry! MIRACLE, I tell you! Praise Jesus! And it's low-cal! Woohooo to that!

(Then I had a mixed green salad and a PBJ on whole wheat tortilla.....tasty, but no miracle.)

So let's talk about my step class for a sec. I pretty much feel like the BIGGEST DORK IN THE WORLD in that class. I mean, I guess the class itself is partly to blame: "Triple Knee Repeater, woo-hoo, that's right! Up right, exit left, Rocking Horse, meow! Grapevine, Rosie's got it!" I adore the teacher, she's the cutest thing - all sporty and muscles in cute aerobics wear...

Maybe that's the problem. My outfit! A crusty ripped t-shirt and some old yoga pants? Ha, no wonder. Well, I may not be coordinated in my workout attire, but at least I'm coordinated enough to get all the moves down without falling flat on my face!

Anyway, back to the eating. I am running the Bolder Boulder on Monday and from what I've read I am supposed to be carbing it up. The day before I shall not eat anything containing fiber, lest I run all 6 miles with terrible toots. So I actually get to eat white carbs and sugar without feeling like Wonderbread-eating white trash! (Because, you know, brown rice and whole wheat has all the fiber and toots-creating shit in it.)

And now we interrupt all this poo-talk for some serious: I am amazed at how good I feel, and amazed at how much feeling good is within my power and not solely in the power of The Meds. Don't get me wrong, I am still ALL ABOUT THE MEDS and would never, ever, EVER judge anyone who takes them. But sometimes it seems like a goddamn miracle that I am even able to cope drug-free! But I have been and CAN and this what's so amazing!

Amazing, miracles, praising Jesus....is this a church service I'm leading here?

My body is my temple and that's what I'm doing these days: worshipping!

(HA! Church analogies are fun.)

And this has nothing to do with anything at all (but if I really wanted to tie it in I probably could), but there is a SWEET 80s tune on right now by Rosanne Cash called "Seven Year Ache." I totally had this tape and played the hell out of it!

Ummm and there is one more thing because I just can't tear myself away from blogging right now... for some reason there is a case of Keystone Light in the work fridge and I think I can hear the cheap shitty beer whispering my name! Ummmmm, canned beer. Yummy.

Can this be classified as real prose?

I just received the latest issue of The Freestone, CSU's English Department newsletter. After skimming the usual faculty profiles and miscellaneous articles, I honed in on my favorite part- alumni and faculty accomplishments. While there are a few baby and marriage announcements, most are all about publishing something, somewhere.

Now I feel all nostalgic for grad school and academia, where I actually READ complex texts and WROTE. WROTE, people, actually composed real prose! These people are still writing and me, I have this here lameass blog and not much else.

Do you think I should submit this as my update?

Rosie Turner's (M.A. Communication Development 2002) blog "Rosalicious" is published daily on the World Wide Web. Rosie chronicals the boring and mundane aspects of her life-- from what she had for dinner, to how much she drank, to how many times she pooped in a 24-hour period. Her voice is decidedly profane, her mentality rivals that of a 13-year old boy. Additionally, Rosie features links to other girly, gossipy blogs, many of which reading take up hours of her workday as a fundraiser at Geek University. She has an entry forthcoming tomorrow about her love of Oprah Winfrey.

Dude, I've never been the scholarly type. Yeah--I could totally bust out some good rhetorical theory in my day, but I'm much more comfortable throwing the words SHIT, DUDE, and FUCK around.

I AM a good writer, I think, in my own rosalicious way. I just need to buckle down and do it! I know, I write here everyday, but honestly? This blog is no effort. I just usually spew forth whatever the hell is on my mind and press the publish button. (And I try to minimize the grammatical errors....I'm just like that.)

Blogging really IS a viable form of writing! Just ask my awesome adviser Sarah! She published this book. It sounds all fancy-schmancy but really, it's just a scholarly book about BLOGGING.

I know, perhaps I should put a little more writerly effort into this site. But the pressure, people! THE PRESSURE! I've never wanted this blog to be anything bigger than a slice of my life, however dull or exciting that might be. I want it to be funny and interesting, of course, but not pretentious or a bunch of perfectly crafted 5 paragraph essays.

Just shit, shit about ME.

I am out of practice. I need topics. I WANT TO WRITE A BOOK. A memoir, or a humorous How-To kind of book. Laurie Novaro is my idol....her books are fucking hilarious!

My approach, then, is 3-fold:

a) Practice makes perfect, bitch.
b) Topics are all around you: your life is one big series of TOPICS.
c) Write that damn book then! Sit your ass down at night and write instead of drinking Shiraz and watching shitty TV.

Alrighty, then. Onward towards book writing I go!

***

Kev just got home with groceries and is super excited about what I'm watching....Oprah's Legends Ball. I know he's been waiting all week to watch it ;-)

I adore Oprah, but this? Is a bit much.

I'm hungry--so please excuse me while I go maw on some food.

'Night night.

Here, mack on my weekend.

The weekend. It came, it went. You really don't want to hear about it.

Wait, what's that, you do? Even though it was kinda eh, kinda uneventful, kinda typical?

Oh, alright....then go ahead, mack on these points of (un)interest:

- I managed to behave myself at the fundraiser in front of my subordinates. How, I'm not sure, seeing as I tossed back 3 vodka tonics in just over an hour, then moved on to red wine...and why did the waiter assume I wanted my red wine filled to the brim of my glass? Didn't he know that would make me look like a lush in front of my fellow collegiate professionals? (Solution: suck it down to an appropriate level as soon as possible!)

- Mike Shanahan gave the most boring goddamn speech in the history of speeches. He also has white chiclet teeth that WOAH....them bitches bright! (Kev says the proper name for them is VENEERS.)

- The tiny floral arrangement that I made Kevin snag off one of the tables made me feel sad, it was just so small and cheaply pitiful in such a big ballroom (but damn- it sure looks pretty on my dresser now!).

- Saturday morning, I scraped an inch of scum off the side of my fish tank with a razor. My big sucker fish now has nothing to munch due to his mom being an insatiable clean freak.

- I may have gotten a little action after that. Action....wink, wink. (The action had nothing to do with the fishtank.)

- We watched this insane man babytalk grizzly bears in this documentary called "Grizzly Man." I am deathly afraid of bears, all bears, and for good reason! Dude eventually turned into bear grub! Yeah, bud, saw that coming...

- Sunday morning, Lu-snickers and mama went running in 90 degree heat and almost passed the fuck out! Thank god for a quick stop at the coffee shop for some freaking HOT coffee! Didn't I say iced, lady? I am red-faced and panting for freak's sake! Are you trying to kill me?!

- Inspired by all the Martha Stewarty landscaping I saw whilst silently dying in my New Balance running kicks, I (first washed Maude, car was filth!) battled the crowds at Home Depot and bought some plants. Pretty ones!

- I brought our yard to life with petunias, DAHLIAS, stock, celosia, and sweet william....as well as some 'maters and a zuchini plant that I know will soon become the big garden badass.

- I also satisfied my OCCD (Obsessive-Compulsive Cleaning Disorder) by doing a little vacuuming, dusting, laundry. It can never be too clean, y'all, never. But trust me- I will never stop trying. It's a sickness.

- I drank a black cherry vodka and tonic while smoothing out the wrinkles in my work attire. It is no secret that I love ironing. Mock me and I will brand you with the hot domestic weapon of my choice!

- Kev and I did not smoke a single ciggy all weekend! Smoke-free Denver, we're ready for your ass!

- Sunday Dinner (not to be confused with lunch in The South) was Swing Thai. As always, ummmmmmmm. I had a salad. I am on a diet. Fuck, I am always on a diet. Carry on.

- Desperate Housewives Season Finale.

- Gangsters rolling out the hoopdies outside my window at 2 am. Granny dragging her recycling out at 4 am. Rosie, not sleeping at all. Plus, back killing me.

- Other stuff: already forgotten. I need to start toting around pen and paper for those tender bloggable moments.

***

And on a note of a current kind, I am totally loving all the pictures of Sean Preston (where Britney almost dropped him) being transposed in various places....check them out at Perez Hilton. Sooooooo funny!

Workiversary, etc.

Three years ago today I timidly started my first real big-girl job.....the kind where I got my very own office and started to wear business casual clothing and had to sign up for assorted big-girl things like retirement accounts and flex spending plans.

Three years later I'M STILL HERE, albeit in a better position, but STILL HERE.

I think this calls for the infamous 3-martini lunch, don't you?

***

Sadly, no boozing occured over lunch. Instead, I sat at the Subaru dealership ready to FREAK on the woman sitting next to me in the waiting area. Chick (OK, chick is not the word--MOUSEY LADY, or Old Plain Jane)was chowing down on her fingernails. CHOWING! Loudly and moistly! Sick, I can't stand nail biting in public, I think it is the most digusting thing in world! Go on, Kev, baby, tell them! I freak the fuck out!

So I was ready to freak. She wasn't nibbling daintly, she was CHOMPING and then munching on the bitten off nail! Like it was snack time or somethin'......ewww. So I sighed heavily and moved to the other side of the room.

And now maybe I feel a little sorry for her, she was so meek looking. Poster lady for Mousey! But still, mousey or no mousey, spitting your nails on the floor at John Elway Subaru is freaking unacceptable.

Speaking of John Elway, Kev and I are going to the School's athletics fundraiser tonight....Mike Shanahan (HC of the Denver Broncos) is the speaker and guest of honor. Kev is all excited. I hate sports but I do like open bars and getting snazzed up.....so it's a WIN-WIN situation for all involved ;-)

***

Tomorrow is the first day that Kevin and I are both off in, like, MONTHS! God, what are we going to do with ourselves? I REALLY feel the urge to go camping! It's all hot and summery and whatnot and we seriously need some QT together.

I love you late spring/almost summer! I am so psyched to go to Telluride next month and to WEEN and up to the Mish ! I love outdoor shows! I can't wait for golf and disc golf and backpacking and cookouts and picnics and bike riding and festivals and farmer's markets and outdoor patios and frozen cocktails and cold beer and my god summer, I am so horny for you! Rahhhhh. Let's get it ON!

***

My, my! It certainly is a juicy day in celeb gossip! I just watched the video where Brandon Davis and fucking Paris Hilton act like total drunken spoiled shitheads calling Lindsay Lohan a firecrotch and other choice things.(Ahem, there is nothing wrong with being a firecrotch--it means you are a natural redhead! People used to say that to me ;-) He was obviously verrrrry fucked up, but still---eeewww, grossness. Like he can talk shit about anyone, gross slimeball. He just wanted attention. Paris Hilton's ass just needs to get kicked, that's all I have to say about her. A big girl catfight where she's torn to pieces. Like, totally.

Also: Britney Spears. I feel like I'm regurgitating everything thing I just read but yeah dude, what a hick! What white trash! She ugly! She got her some ugly ugly skin and some heinous clothes. She show her pink thong and her black bra and she almost done drop that lil Tater Tot boy o'hers lord.

I can't believe we have people who worship famous? people like this. Obviously I'm sitting around reading this shit...so, no room to talk.

Smashed: Not now, but maybe later.

I am currently reading a book that ever so nicely piggybacks the post below: Smashed by Koren Zailckas.

I see so much of myself in this book already and I am not even a quarter of the way through it. I have always been a big drinker. Not an alcoholic, but definitely an abuser of alcohol. I have blacked out. I have puked. I have woken up in strange places. I have done many, many things I regret. I have had more hungover weekends than not.

I started drinking in high school, heavily. We partied with people who were in college and who were over 21. We went to frat parties and got into bars around UVA. We thought we were cooler than our classmates because we drank and got high. We stole handles of vodka from the country club where we worked. We went to horse races in dresses and pearls and puked our guts out. We had keggers and bonfires and filled our parents' liquor bottles back up with water.

So this chick Koren wrote a book about doing the same things I, and thousands of other teens, did? I am liking her book because I SO see myself in it--not just the drinking and amount of it, but how I drank in high school to be social and to compensate for my shyness. And to be cool, to easily make friends. But I am not liking her patronizing tone...own up to the shit you did and admit it: it was FUN! Sure, no adult likes to wake up in someone else's clothes, but my god. I'm sure at the time you and your pal were giggling and high-fiving about it...maybe making each other colorful notes whereupon you brag about how much liquor you downed that particular night. This book would be much better if she weren't "lecturing" her younger self. Just tell the damn drinking story!

I grew up in a HUGE drinking town. Charlottesville VA, home to UVA....or, the "Wahoos," after fish that can drink half their weight. The whole school centers around drinking--big Greek scene, Foxfield (horse races), "Fourth-year Fifth," where graduating seniors drink a fifth of liquor at the last home football game ALL BY THEIR LONESOME. (I never did this, obviously, because I didn't go to UVA, but I witnessed it once. SCARY!). Drinking is what I was taught to do. And I did it very, very well!

I definitely thank my lucky stars that I made it to 30 alive. I did some stupid, stupid things. I could have been Natalee Holloway ten times over! (Give me a break when her mother says that "Natalee would never get in a car with people she didn't know...." If she was a shit-faced teenager she would!) But I wouldn't change a thing. Nothing. Not even those can barely can-stand-to-deal hungover mornings where the toilet in which to puke is the only order of the day.

I know there are a few people in my life who judge my drinking. Worry, maybe I can handle authentic worry, but not the judgment (or, judgment disguised as worry). I know I abuse alcohol. It's my drug of choice. It's MY liver. And wherein I become defensive: I have every right to be. I have 2 college degrees and I hold a very good job. I have a good relationship (although it HAS been strained b/c of drinking, so no need to call me out on that, people). I take cabs and for the most part, only go out on the weekends. I have never gotten a DUI or (technically) been to jail or killed anyone. Sometimes I even wonder why these people have beef? (Because it's what's for dinner?) Nay, I'll spare you the psychobabble about why others judge others (I gave it up for lent, personally, and feel oh-so liberated!).

Plus, I'm perfect, remember. And did I just say "Nay"?

Drinking definitely changes the older you get. I totally feel anxious and shitty now after nights where I black out (or as we mature adults say, "can't remember how I got home!"). I feel "too old" to be puking. I get angry at myself when I waste a day with a hangover. But still, drinking is very much an intrinsic part of my life. I love happy hour drinks with friends. I love bringing Bourbon on backpacking trips. I love beer with golf. I love wine after work. I don't know if I would ever completely give it up. All (most) of my friends drink too. I flock to these kinds of people.

I wish I could say I didn't care though, because I do. Sometimes I do think I drink too much. Not too often, but too much at one time. I get defensive because that's what people do who feel bad about some aspect of themselves. Don't think I can't see the other side: health issues, etc. I am cognizant of the fact that.....

Wait just a cotton-pickin' minute. I stopped being light and lively and yogurty! I don't like being this serious, at least not here for all the world to see! (Although this blog would be infintely better if I got more personal on you...)

Ok, how's this:

Dudes, until my conservative male boss witnesses me whipping my tank top off on the amateur stage at PT's Showclub after downing 2 mind-erasers, the drinking will righteously LIVE ON.

Anyway, I don't feel like talking about this anymore. It's making me want a drink.

***

Quick note. There are people in this office who either don't have brains or rely too goddamn heavily on MY brain. Cease, immediately! Do some brain using, for cryin' out loud! Sheesh, what am I, your boss?

A really long trip down memory lane. Or: Dude, where the hell is a scanner when I need one?

Whenever I go home to my mom's in VA, she always tries to pawn all my old high school shit off on me.

For the love of god Mother, I am not lugging my moldy old yearbooks home on the plane!

Yep, that's always what I'm up against. So on my last trip home I was spared: she agreed to mail some stuff out.

I just received a box from her (some of which ended up in the yard sale pile in the garage: 50 cents for an AHS soccer jacket, anyone?!). I was delighted that the package included a shoebox full of rosalicious memorabilia! It was fun to drink wine last night and go through all of it...

I have always been a chronic journaler. Behold, my diaries through the years:

The small ones say things like "I hate my mom, she won't let me go to the mall with Jessi. I also have my period, it is gross!"

The notebook ones say things like "We mixed Sherry with Dr. Pepper and then I french kissed Kris Galione in the closet." One of those notebooks is the equivalent of teen porn...Jess and I used to pass it back and forth- it's an ongoing story we wrote about teenagers who basically do nothing but go on dates and hook-up: Simone and Jackie are the heroines....modeled after ourselves, naturally!

The classier journals detail my life through college ("I am so psyched, we got Phish tickets to Hampton!"), my move to Boone, NC, then my move to Fort Collins, CO, and then through now: Denver. I actually just filled the teal one with the man on the front.

There were TONS of these priceless gems in the box:


My girlfriends and I would make them for each other while sitting in class, and they'd usually include quotes from songs and reference to our favorite topics: cigarettes, beer, weed, beach week, the "apartment," hooking up, people we liked, people we hated, places we partied, etc etc.


My friend Shannon and I particularly liked to write each other odes. The one that says "Romana" in red is an ode from Shannon and here it is:

After b-ball the boyz have that aroma of roses, psyche- I can't tell,
You got trees from your mirror so your car won't smell.

Rondell, Rondell, with a pick in your hair,
Jus' a smile and a wink forms cream in the ol' underwear.

Drayberry, Drayberry, your music tastes suck,
If you'd pop in some H-Town you'd have a better chance at a fuck.

Cuteness, cuteness, Shawn loves some,
You know when he threw Missy's legs up he was bustin' that cum.

Vincent, Vincent, he tried to be a dawg,
But I'm going to remember the good times @ his house,like seeing through the pot fog.

Yea we had some smoke fests, Newports, weed and whatnot,
The night wasn't over until the sound of an AK gunshot.

Charley's, Charley's I've only been there once after school,
Now I have to hide my car or drive Rondell's, that's the new rule.

Trucks, trucks, my poor JP is in the shop,
JPA better watch out for those undercover cops.

Hampton University, Norfolk State, and then I could go to Tech,
But I want a sangin', bangin', good lookin' ruffneck (YEA).

Back on the scene, freak me greasy, j'vais monge twat? are quotes we used last year,
But now we're more laid back- we just sit back, toke up, and have ourselves a beer.

Thanks, thanks, for all the laughs and fun,
Just remember: medium rare ain't as sweet as well done.

I'm sure there are only 3 people who will find that ode remotely funny. That Shannon! She was my roomie freshman year in college and I'm not sure I've seen her since! I believe she is married to the high school drug dealer--poor girl, she had such potential!

Anyway, moving on. Or back! Look it's my official "We Wear Bras" membership card!

I know, you can't see it very well. It's dated 1988, so I was 12. An official size 28A ;-)Yeah, baby!!

Here's another excerpt of something funny:

Last week at the football game you three members of the varsity squad were identified as having been on the football bus. Although rules of the squad do not address your being permitted or not permitted on the bus, the rules do say that you are to keep contact between yourself and the football players to a minimum when traveling together. Getting on the football bus is not acceptable. As a result, you will be benched for this week's game.

That's right, I got on that football bus to go give 50 blow jobs like cheerleaders do!(Yes, I was a cheerleader. Shut it.)

And the MEMORY BOOK:


This actually didn't come in the box but it resides there now. Jess and I came up with this in 1991 and made list upon list of shit that happened to us. We also made "Babe Lists." Did you make these, where you listed your crushes in order of desire? We even made them as recent as 1999! Ha!

My list in 1994:

1. Rich "Slippers" H. (because his lips felt soft like slippers)
2. Jean Lorber (no, I did not swing both ways! Jean is FRENCH.)
3. Will Burke (hot skater dude with no brains.)
4. Hani K. (this Egyptian guy who was a waiter on my Nile cruise! What??!!)
5. Ricky Randolph (ewwwwww, now he's just nasty.)

Obviously my list now is this:

1. Kevin McDermott, one and only...xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

I am so glad I have all of this stuff to look back on and LAUGH!!!! I love being able to see myself develop through the years....how my handwriting changes according to who I'm hanging out with (this STILL happens), the music I like, the clothes I wear, the people I hang out with....

Yet so much about me is still EXACTLY THE SAME. I am still obsessed with my weight (from 1994: I weigh 115, I am sooooooo depressed), still obsessed with making to-do lists (I was making them in 1988!), still have a potty mouth and a dirty mind, still love the drink and the smoke, still love to write and dance and go to the beach.....

I am one of those girls who loved high school! It's kind of amazing to me, seeing as my parents' divorce happened then and my home life was in upheaval. Nothing in that box reflected any of that. I found my day planner from my senior year and it was so surprisingly similar to the one I have at my office now! Lots of doodles, lists of things to do, post-its, appointments, parties, lunches...Anyway, I was impressed with myself from that planner--I was responsible! I had a job and did well in school and was going to college!

It's kind of comforting to remember that I was a happy, normal teenager.

Well, if you've made it this far....congratulations! I know no one wants to travel down memory lane with me (except you guys- Jess and Patsy!)...I guess this post was more for myself.

YESN'T! I hope you laughed, m-effers!!!!!!

I'm a big ol' balloon.

About 2 hours ago I was all hyped up with spring fever and I wanted to tell you all about it! I was motivated! Interesting! Humorous! Witty!

Now? I'm deflated like a big ol' balloon.....pppfbbbfbbbttttttttt. I'm tired. Post-lunch food coma.

Also: It's much too fucking nice out to be indoors!

Yesterday I played a little hooky, but it wasn't really fun hooky like going to Waterworld or whittling away the afternoon over beers. I had an interview (and that's all you get about that.). I also had to take Biggie Purrs to the vet for a blood check and some insulin.

Dude, I need to start getting his insulin on the black market! 80 bucks! For a small vial of diabetes juice! Who knows a good kitty-drug dealer?

I went for a run and it was almost tears-inducing. Oh the pain! I have also been having all sorts of digestion issues and was bloated and fat-feeling. Lugging a big ol' balloon around my waist on a run is woooo---weeee, exhausting. I need someone to staple my piehole shut for just a little bit of relief. And someone to pop this g-damn balloon please! The toots, people. The Toots!

Ahhhh, food. Yes, I do love thee. I grilled up the tastiest portobello mushroom sammies last night along with an ear of corn. Scrumptious!

(Digestive enzymes to the rescue.)

We also had approximately one margarita each. We are good girls and boys.

Did you happen to catch the season finale Grey's Anatomy? The last hour was my god, so cheese. Prom? What was that? The "confessions" of each intern to the Chief? Puh-lease, y'all!

But I still love it and I still cried. Ever since ditching the meds I seem to cry a lot lately--not out of any real sadness though. It was alarming at first, but now I kinda like it. Crying feels tasty. Er, tastes salty?

Another inquiry to my non-responsive readership: who has seen the movie Junebug? Soooooooo cute! Anything involving redheads and The South. I'm all over it.

Blog, I'm just not that into you right now. Forgive my lameness won't you? I promise ye a prettier post in the morn.

I'm up early.

Holy gunsmokes (it's that damn cowgirl purse again, sorry!)....what am I doing up this early? It's 9 am on Sunday morning and I went to bed at 2 am....not completely hammered, but sloshed enough.....2 glasses of wine, 2 dirty vodka martinis, and 2 beers. (Ok...Shut up.) I don't feel terribly hungover--in fact, I have already done some weeding in the yard. It's that tired-dehydrated-but-I-can't-go-back-to-sleep feeling....I hate when this happens.

Annnnyyywaaayyyyy....I have been a crafty little beaver (beaver! ha!) this weekend!

I made a new earring holder out of a picture frame and some chicken wire:

Props to Jessica Emmitt for the idea--sorry darlin', the one you made me wasn't big enough anymore....

I do love me some ear bling.

I also made a few tie purses out of my grandpa's old ties:

Props to the crafty bitch who made Jenn Wachtel's purse for THIS idea

I sent one of these little numbers to my mama for Mother's Day. The ties belonged to her dad. I figured that was a nice sentiment.

(HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TODAY! Call your mom!)

Remember when we scored this little table? Well, I finally got around to mosaic-ing the top:


Now it just needs some matching seat cushions....

We also have a plethora of floral creations about the house right now.

These are my favorite flowers in the whole wide world. DAHLIAS! Kev gave them to me for our anniversary:


Ain't they the purtiest?

I also scored some flowers leftover from work events. I was a little scared they would upstage Kev's anniversary bouquet, but sorry- nothing upstages a DAHLIA. So, I happily brought this cornucopia of loveliness home:


And here's BIGGIE PURRS!


Being, well, Mr. Biggie Purrs.

More of the floral bonanza.....


Not really sure what's on the old agenda for the rest of the day. K is at work, making many busts. You thinking he's a cop? He's a TREE COP! And he looks damn cute in that uniform too!

I need new clothes but I don't get paid until tonight at midnight. Do I want to shop? No- hate shopping. Unless it's at the Home Depot. I should mow grass. I should prepare for my INTERVIEW tomorrow (if you work with me, shhhhhhhhhhhh). I should call Allie. I should call Mom. I should run. I should read my stupid library book that needs to be returned. I thought Shar and Alex said breakfast this morning. I'm hungry. I'm sore. I'm thirsty. I want sweet tea. I want taters.

IneedIwantIshouldIwouldIamI...........

My drunken pity party.

I wrote this last night while feeling drunk and sorry for myself:

I unearthed this laptop from Kevin's bag because before I go to bed I just want to bitch about how unfair life seems right now.

ALL of our friends just went to DO KAROAKE!!!!!! And they all were cheering for me and telling me to go because I AM THE KARAOKE GODDESS! Lord people, I am on the verge of tears, it is sooooo unfair! I can't go! I am at home! I have to work at 7 am!!!!! I have to go to a fucking event that no one even needs me at except to greet fucking 75 year old men and make sure they know where the elevator is......it SUCKS!

Everyone is soooo having fun and I can't!!!!!!! Do you know how MUCH this sucks for me?

I am a most sad rosalicious. I want to party and hang out with my peeps and they are all out having a blast whilst I sit and dread my tomorrow. I LOOOOVVVVVEEEE to party and dance and sing and drink......

I hate wearing suits, most funerial. It is not me, I want to dance in the pansies--and I might. But for now, I am a slave to the alarm clock that goes off at 5:30 am.....and I am still a drunk.

***

I just got the update on last night from Kev--dude sang karaoke and I MISSED IT!!!!! Wahhhhhh. Kevin just told me that this post was juvenile. Whatever, when you're drunk everything seems like a big effin' deal. And I can't help myself--as I pontificated above.....I LOOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVVEEEEEE to party and dance and sing and drink and french kiss boys! Ok, the one boy. I like to french kiss him ;-)

Two things.

In my whole year of being a blogstress I have NEVER done one of these. But today, today is the day the Lord hath made and the Lord done made me do it.

(Plus, I'm just feeling kinda bored and lazy...)

It Takes Two

Two of Your Everyday Essentials
1. Sunglasses
2. Birth control pill

Two Things You Are Wearing Right Now
1. Dansko mary janes
2. Sweet Florida tan lines

Two Things You Want in a Relationship
1. Hilarity
2. Communication

Two Things That Scare You
1. Flying
2. Lightening

Two Truths
1. I'm in therapy
2. I still smoke cigs

Two Things that Appeal to You In a Guy/Girl
1. Taste in music
2. Likes to party

Two of Your Favorite Hobbies
1. Drinking
2. Gardening

Two Things You Want Really Badly
1. My own house
2. Good credit

Two Places You Want to go on Vacation
1. Italy
2. Peru

Two Things You Want to Do Before You Die
1. Yellowstone
2. Kentucky Derby

Two Things You Are Thinking About Now
1. The chemicals in this Safeway Select sparkling water beverage
2. Plans for tonight

Two Things in Your Nightstand
1. Journal
2. Undies

Two Stores You Shop At
1. Whole Foods
2. Applejack Liquors

Two people I haven't talked to in a while
1. Jodi
2. Patsy

Two favorite places
1. Any uncrowded beach
2. Asleep

The best blind date ever.

Since I don't have anything else to tell you today (other than the fact that HOLY SHIT TODAY IS OUR 5TH ANNIVERSARY--CONGRATS ROSE AND KEV!!!!!), I'll tell you about my most heinous (and only) blind date.

And let's see if I can be funny about it. (I might need a glass of wine or a bong hit though....just sayin'....) Me at 4 PM...not so funny.

I had lived in Fort Collins just 2 short months and knew basically no one (except one MOST heinous roomie which might be ANOTHER story one day). I started out working as the gardener for the Director of CSU's Vet School, but that sucked. Hard labor = eh. I shortly thereafter went back to what I knew best - floral design. (I know, this is sort of irrelevant...bear with me.)

As I mentioned previously, my fellow tranny floral designer and I hit it off right away. I'm open-minded and like to think I can be pretty hilarious...so what tranny wouldn't just adore me? I also smoked a shit load of weed at the time and well, so did tranny! We used to leave for lunch and drive around in he/r crappy ride smoking schwag. Of course, she thought it was the best weed on earth and who was I to argue?

Anyway, one day we were in MY car puffing down on some schwag and a Phish bootleg was playing. Loni asked who it was, I professed my immense fondness for all things jam band, and she decided she had the PERFECT guy for me. His name was Tom and he loved Phish, had long hair, and WAS IN A BAND. Cha-ching!

So Loni plotted and planned and eventually I received a call from some dude who sounded more gangsta than trustafarian. We chatted for a bit, and believe me when I tell you his intellect left MUCH to be desired, but still- I had hopes. He asked if I wanted to hang and I said sure, how about Friday. He said he'd give me a call after work then and we could figure out the plans.

This might not sound like the funniest part of the date, but looking back it is: That Friday morning I bought really nice wine, a loaf of homemade bread, and some yummy cheese.

HA! Haaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Trust me when I say that a bag of greasy McDonald's may have been more appropriate.

Tom calls at approximately 6 PM and I tell him to come on over. Well, dude didn't even have a car! Now, that really wasn't the deal-breaker, but um, yeah it sort of was. So I got in my car and headed over to "Ramblehood" Apartments to finally meet my blind date. I was nervous and I wanted him to be cute. At least not totally doggified.

When I first pulled up I couldn't tell you if he was cute or not due to the unbelievable cloud of cigarette smoke and accompanying STENCH around him! SICK! BARF! COUGH!

Once the fumes cleared, my heart sank. I almost asked him to get out, who was this weirdo? Call me superficial, scorn me if you will, but sorry--greasy, stringy hair and trench coats are NOT my thing. But I am a nice girl and so I let him stay. But not so nice that I wanted to share my nice wine and yummy cheese with this creature. (Even though he shared his weed--more schwag--YUM.)

So we went to the Chinese place next door instead of chowing on my gourmet goods. I sucked down many many cocktails in order to deal. I was stuck. Stuck with a greasy plate of Chinese and a greasy headed date. Stuck! (And now also drunk.)

What would you have done? Probably what I did next! Call the roomie and get an OUT. We ended up meeting some people at Tony's in Old Town. I am giggling right now thinking about it, but I was an evil naughty girl. I hid, I ignored, I tried to run away. He didn't seem to care though, because eventually he was sitting up at the bar having a grand old time by his lonesome. Like a gothic-looking sore thumb in a sea of frat boy yo-buddies, he almost made my heart break just a little.

Ha, not really.

I ended up leaving the bar without saying goodbye. I dreaded seeing Loni on Monday and having to tell he/r that the dude was most surely NOT for me, but to my amusement, Tom had already told her some pretty choice things himself. I was slightly offended, but I am sure I deserved it.

The moral of this story is don't let your trannies grow up to be matchmakers. My tranny certainly did a bang-up job.

P.S. I lied! This actually wasn't my only blind date! I forgot that several years later I did the internet dating thing once. Not much better, but at least the guy didn't make me want to vomit on my Danskos.

Three points and a one more thing.

First of all, sorry to those of you who missed out on your daily rosalicious fix due to the friggin' "www" being taken out of my URL. What the fuck, this is not the world wide web anymore? Totally has screwed up my linkalage and I have no idea what to do about it.

Secondly, I just wanted to be sure you all knew that I used to work with a tranvestite in Fort Collins. I don't know what brought upon these sudden memories of "Loni", but bitch was one tough dude. S/he wore these long hippie skirts and a turtleneck, every single day--even in the hottest of hot. You know, the t-neck was to hide that ol' adam's apple. She had a brown make-up line that often stained aforementioned t-necks. We got along pretty well at first and used to take lunch breaks to go smoke up. But I never got the "sexuality disclosure"....well, like I really needed one--shit was obvious. S/he also smelled kind of bad...like stinky funk. And her voice was a fake femme, but occasionally the gruff would emerge when she got pissed. Which, once she got pissed at me and threw a bucket at me in a rage, gruffly calling me a spoiled little bitch because I had taken Easter weekend off.

Welllllll, like any spoiled little bitch, I up and QUIT Fort Collins Floral because I needn't take any shit from anyone, much less a dude in hippie chick clothing.

Lastly, I was quite bummed to click back to my May 2005 archives and see that my first post was on May 13, not May 9, which I thought would have made today my one year bloggiversary. Damn the years just fly by. Guess I need to wait 4 more days for the celebration to begin.

Rosalicious likes presents.

Oh, and one more thing about Loni- she hooked me up on the worst friggin blind date in the history of blind dates. Another post, another day....but as you may concur, someone was really desperate.

This is the first you've heard of this, any of you.

Icksters. I feel like bloated Mexican crap - I just scarfed down a chicken burrito and mucho nachos. Blech. I need to board the nutritional train PRONTO! Last week did me in as far as veggie and H2O consumption are concerned (lack there of). I think I just may have gone 2 straight days without anything green in my diet (except margarita mix). Now I am feeling it in my torso area! Blecccccchhhhhhhh.

I am also feeling incredibly angsty? Anxious? I am anxious about the future and all the decision-making and planning that comes along with it. Kev and I had "the talk" on Saturday-- no, not about that you bunch of stinkers! We talked about The Future and what it holds for us in terms of our living and work situations. And the concensus is this: we are really going to try to move next summer. That means no homeowning for me right now.

Yes, I cried a pitiful little tear. Woe was me. But I feel so much better now that we've gotten it out there and "have a plan"--well, sort of a plan. The key city is Asheville, NC. If I am to pick up and leave this beautiful state it better damn well be to someplace equally as awesome. Asheville has everything I want in a home --good food, lots of bluegrass music, art, college town, mountains/lots of outdoor adventures, driving distance to beach, medium-sized. If only every yuppie/hippie/30-something didn't want to live there too!

There are so many "ifs" right now.....and things change. Maybe Kevin will find a great job here in Denver. Maybe we'll end up staying. It's called living and that is what we're going to do until whatever is supposed to happen, happens. But still --I am a woman who operates best on a strategic plan (god, I am such a fundraiser)! It's hard for me to just go with it....I need options, people. A plan.

In the past 24-hours I have worked really hard to get psyched about potentially starting over in a new town and I have managed to acquire the happy psych! That's just it--starting over can be a GOOD thing. Starting a new phase of my life--the one that involves weddings and homebuying and babies! My thirties, my god! They are here.

The reality is that I guess I have always known I would eventually move back East. I knew I'd always look back and say "when I lived in Colorado" and know which time period in my life I was referring to. But last week reminded me of how much I love the ocean - not just "like going on vacation there" but LOVE it and want to be near it--permanently. It's always been so important in my life, the beach, and I have missed being able to hop in the car and be at the beach a few hours later. It's who I am.

It will also be exciting to have family back in our lives. At an appropriate distance, of course! This will be very, very new. Hanging out with family non-holiday style! And free dog-sitting! Also: friends who we never see...people in KY and VA and elsewhere! The chance to reconnect and bring these people back into our lives.

OK, I'm ready to move now.

Just kidding.

Colorado friends: don't start planning my going-away party yet, nothing's happened!
East Coast friends: for god's sake, keep it DOWN, nothing's happened!

We shall see....we shall see. There is also something else new and exciting for me in the works and I am not going to let you in on it just yet.

But I will. Just as soon as I push this burrito out the other end.

Work/vacay

Somebody made a huge mistake sending me here this week for a conference!

Did I just take a business trip or a vacation?

Hmmmmm, the line's a little blurred on that one.

We were good and attended MOST of the conference. I got in plenty of beach and pool time....unlike some of my fellow higher ed fundraising comrades who sheepishly felt like they had to "sneak" out. Ha, whatever....I wore my nametag on my bikini with NO SHAME. Then, I swear there were some who didn't attend SHIT. Slacker bitches. (But can I still hang out with you?)

What can I tell you about the trip that's fun/ny other than how to increase donor retention rates and how to acquire more young alumni? Well, to start the Super Shuttle trip to our hotel required that I whip out a map and guide the driver around downtown Miami. I about bitch-slapped some lady on the van who told the Japanese tourists they couldn't pay with a credit card because she didn't want to wait to have the driver run the card, but showed some restraint (unusual- I HATE people like this). I admit that it was pretty pathetic that the driver had no clue where he was going or what he was doing, but seriously. No need to wet your girdle chick--poor guy's just trying to make a living.

(Dude, there is some Wu-tang on itunes right now and it is SO Miami.)

As I'm sure many of you know, Miami is fucking crazy.

It's also fucking expensive. Alcohol is not expensable on the company dime any longer, so I spent a pretty penny on liquor. $10 each margaritapinacoladarumpunchwine.......oh, why couldn't the conference have been all-inclusive? Wah.

I had my own nice room in which to look dreamily at the mini bar and steal from the samples basket. Here I am on my balcony:


Yes, I just might have worn my bathing suit to the conference.

At least fundraisers know how to party! We befriended two guys at the "networking reception" who accompanied us through a case of Miller Light (Um, not my purchase). One guy is the Annual Giving Director at the NAACP (and he is white, I might add) and one guy was from Canada. NAACP immediately became my gay boyfriend for the conference, although he said- in so many words- that he wasn't gay. I don't know, but my gaydar was beeping like mad! Anyway, gay or not, dude was a TRIP! He declared himself a "conference whore" and attended less shit than we did! I love funny people and with his seersucker suit, he took the cake.

My friend Shannon came down Thursday night from Stuart/West Palm and we smoked our way through 2 packs of cigarettes. In Southern Girl Terms that means WE HAD A LOT TO TALK ABOUT! I adore Shannon. She is a friend from Boone that I've seen 3 times in the past year and thus feel incredibly reconnected with her. After drinks at the hotel outdoor bar (aka "conference landing pad"), we walked to one of the few restaurants with a bar in Key Biscayne and had some apps, salads, and Pinot Grigio.

(Key Biscayne is NOT a party scene.)

We were the only ladies in there and were pounced on immediately. I enjoy the attention, I must admit. One wink and there are shots of limoncello in front of you. You need another glass of wine (in Cuban or Colombian accent)? Of course! It is a great joy to be a lady sometimes ;-) Especially when you are in a Sopranos-style establishment with rich Floridian men who drive Mercedes convertibles and wear pleated silk trousers!

Anyway, befriending of foreign men aside, it was a good trip:


Feeling good!

Welll, enough for now....I'm off to drink a mint julep. It IS Derby.

The Yard Sale for Life.

On Saturday some girls from work and I held a Yard Sale For Life in lieu of the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life. We decided that selling some shit on someone's front lawn while drinking bloody marys sounded wayyyyyy more appealing than staying up all night huffing and puffing around some track.

(Heh. Not really. We just couldn't get enough people to form a team. But in my opinion, the yard sale was the better idea. I love me a yard sale!)

My signage rocks....support cancer, buy a tchotchke!


I love that word - tchotchke. But damned if it ain't a bitch to spell!

We made over $250 hawking said tchotchkes...this is what was left after the early-morning rush of blue hairs:


You wouldn't believe the crap people buy!

Anyway, after things settled down we were all able to sit around and enjoy our morning cocktails. Cocktails For Life! Woohooooohoo!

Work girls, who have no idea their mugs are up on the internet:


A bunch of philanthropists, we are!