Thursday, January 21, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
The horses certainly enjoyed the fresh snow.
The leaning tower of morgan.
Meanwhile, Morgan spent a good part of the day practicing to be the next Duff Goldman.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
I'm currently at my son's gymnastics. He's off flipping and bouncing while I
Right now, they're discussing how one of their fellow chatty-cathys, who happens to be absent today, allows their kids to watch too much TV, too much violence, too much sweets...blah, blah, blah. They've collectively decided they must all limit their children's contact with this parent's children. I hope they're also making mental note to never miss a class and therefore leaving themselves open to be the recipient of the others' disapproval and gossip.
Oh good, they've moved on to their incredibly high home values. Fabulous. Bunch of a-holes.
I don't know if
The gym seems to be a mecca for dimwits. And I'm not even talking about the blockheads that spend their entire workout grunting and sweating on stuff. No, there's a woman there that bugs the hell out of me to the point that I sorta feel guilty about it. She's not disruptive in any way, but nonetheless makes me want to put a stick through the spokes of her exercise bike. She's there every.single.time I'm at the gym. She's there before I arrive, she's still there when I leave
I guess I should feel sorry for her or something, but I don't. Seriously, stop already. Go eat a Big Mac, and supersize it! I actually have things I need to get done daily and therefore can't literally run my ass off at the gym six hours a day. I know I'm
Oh, I am evil. Still love me?
And then there's the guy at the pool. Again, I swear he lives there. No matter what time we go to the pool - mornings, evenings, weekends - he's there. We call him Milton. And yes, he looks like this:
And stop gagging.
Milton is always by himself, spending his pool time blatantly staring at all the bathers through his 1 1/2 inch thick glasses. After watching a couple endure a good twenty minutes of his company in the hot tub, where he sat uncomfortably within their personal space, staring without a word, I've made it policy to skip all hot tub time in the presence of Milton. One of these days I'm going to risk certain death to my camera phone and try to bring it into the pool and sneak a picture of him. The things I'd do for you, my peeps.
So how you doin'?
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Growing up just two towns from their Sunapee homes, you'd think I would have eventually run into them. Nope.
In middle school, one of my classmates was BFF with Mia Tyler and she'd often spend time at the Tyler's lakeside home. So I lived vicariously through her tales of romping around the rocker's compound, which included an incident of spotting a naked Steven coming out of the shower while playing in the master bedroom. Yeah, I made her tell me that story over and over again. What?
Fast forward a few years when I was living in Florida, working as a pro-audio rep. We got an emergency call that Aerosmith was playing in the central Florida and needed an amp pronto! I was more than eager to volunteer to make the delivery (and I'd bring the amp! OH!). Calls were made, arrangements arranged and I
A few weeks later I had wasted an entire day shopping at the local mega mall. On the drive home the DJ announced the Steven Tyler had just been spotted shopping for shoes at the very same mall. FAIL AGAIN! WTH!
Now you may be wondering why I don't just buy a ticket to a show. Oh, but I have. At least 4 times, and each the show has been CANCELLED! One of my friend's scoffed at the thought that the band has cancelled every show I've had tickets for, "they've never cancelled any show I've gone to". So together we bought tickets... and they cancelled. Hate to tell you I told you so, but...
She insisted it was a fluke. So a year later we bought tickets...again. And then Steven got laryngitis. Cancelled AGAIN! My friend then vowed she would never let me know when they toured again in fear that my very knowledge of Aerosmith performing would cause Steven to, oh I don't know, take a header off the stage. Oh.
But then a few months ago I found out Steven was coming to town to do a small, intimate benefit show at a local theater. He'd play a few songs, tell a few stories, share some video clips of the band over the years and field some Q&As. I wasted no time telling my friend, who was psyched that I was willing to get up early and beat down the theater door to get tickets. and I wasn't totally offended when she asked me to consider camping out for the tickets but refrain from actually planning on attending the show.
So I got to the theater 2 hours before the doors opened and tickets went on sale. Once at the ticket window I slipped the teller an extra $50 and landed us third row seats! Sweet! $650 later I had hopes that this time I'd actually see Steven Tyler. After all, I'd been trying for over 20 years and it would be nice to see him live before he turns to dust, which, by looking at some pictures, won't be too long.
By now, you know where this is going.
Yup. It was announced the other day that the show has been cancelled. This is my shocked face. Something about rehab, blah, blah, blah. Seriously, does he need to be sober for this gig? I don't think so!
I'm officially never ever buying tickets to anything Areosmith ever, ever again.
Guess it's back to Lake Sunapee if I want a chance to catch a glimpse of Steven Tyler.
or maybe not.
Monday, January 4, 2010
I officially dub this year, "The Year of the Slack" and thus far, I have been ROCKING it!
Yeah, yeah, I know we're only on day 3 or 4 ( <---- see! SLACKER! Sure, I could hunt down a calendar, but that would require getting up. Pshhhhh!), but so far I've spent most of it cozy and warm in my PJs! But I'm getting ahead of myself.
The good times started a day or so (it's a blur now) before New Years when I took Morgan to go get her hair did for the big night. She decided to have her hair dyed hot pink. And since we have no dance recitals, weddings, graduations or funerals planned in the next few months I figured 'what the heck'. She's totally rocking the pink! And if I hadn't taken a vow of slackerhood, I'd have a picture of the finished product. So you'll have to take my word that it's super cute.
Next, it was my turn in the stylist's chair. But by then, sadly, my attention span had split with my motivation and I gave the new hair dresser carte blanc to do whatever she wanted. Yeah, you know that was a mistake. The good news is she didn't go hot pink, the bad news is I should have said something like, "give me a soccer mom haircut and I'll cut a bitch."
The following day, Morgan and I met the Bev for lunch and a visit to the nail salon. How embarrassed was Bev when she didn't get my text that it was "National Dress Like a Terrorist Day"?! Unfortunately it was so cold in the nail salon that I couldn't bare to take off my jacket and show off the package of brats I had strapped to my chest to complete the look. Shame.
Sadly, the only one who took notice of all the electric wires attached to me we're the poor abused gold(???) fish. One of them played dead (French Gold Fish?) while the other seemed elated that his life in the nasty algae-ridden tank would soon come to an end.
Bev came up with the brilliant idea to make her annual New Year's soiree a pajama party. Genius! Bev and I have partied in the new year every year together for at least a decade. And as always, good times were plentiful. Here's a few pictures I may or may not remember taking.
Then we went home and remained in our PJs for the next 2 days.
And it was awesome.