Questionâ€â€ÂIf a white Beetle is completely covered in snow, is it still a white Beetle because of, or in spite of, the snow?
Answerâ€â€ÂDo not walk to work in the cold, driving snow. Unless you want to reach the office in time to find out that your boss declared a “Snow Day” and everyone’s working from home.
WHEN: Day Two of Two-Day Premiere!
WHERE: On the LoveSac in front of TV.
WHAT: 24‘s Marathon Season Premiere, over two days and four hours!
WHO: A totally shocked Dot, an innocent bystander sucked into watching this show!
HOW: Tivo’ing every episode and working hard to find the first five seasons. That’s 120 hours!
WHY: Who knows? Someone sock her with a Hello Kitty puppet! Stop me, stop me already!
Excuse me while I don’t blog, because I’m watching the two-hour season premiere of 24.
Ohmygawd!
Did I actually say that?
Never saw an episode of the show, and never understood the fuss about it UNTIL today.
When I decided on a lark to see what the deal is.
Whoa.
Whoa.
I’ll be back in two hours.
Growing up on a tropical island has several advantages.
Winter is not one of them.
Neither are you equipped with the right vocabulary to describe such inclement weather.
It wasn’t just cold.
It was friggin’ cold.
Or, it could have just been me.
I’m not sure.
Or I am, but I’m not sure what the best swear word is at this point.
I’m way past “Holy Frozen Bananas!”
Luckily for me, Jay came up with a solution today.
“It’s chibby!”
I think that’s Colorado-lese for “Wah lao eh!”
Today’s lesson: Betting is bad for you.
Three eggs, ham, two sausages, two bacon strips, hash brown, and two slices of bread may not sound like a lot of food at 9 am in the morning, but it is.
It just is.
I was convinced my Tummy would succeed in this endeavor! It must! It has before!
SoIBetMyColleaguesICouldEatItAllOrIWouldBuyEveryoneDrinks.
Bad tummy, bad tummy!
In other news, I got to preview the new Olympic Sculpture Park. I was a Happy Camper. And oh, Richard Serra was there too. He scares me, but I just wanted to hug him. And I hate hugging.
It was FREAKING COLD today!
It, like, rarely snows in Seattle, and the entire city deals with the extra cold as well as a Caveman with A Computer.
I’ll stop now. Because my fingers are still frozen from the trip home. And typing with my teeth is NOT an option.
Later.
You know you’re in trouble when your dream last night was of you in transit at an airport (I think Narita), and you spot something in a glass case that was of course Hello Kitty-related, you proceed to buy the items, then argue with the cashier that she forgot your change, and almost miss your flight in the process.
Moral of the story: DO NOT STOP FOR KITTY.
What do you get when you put 12 guys, one helicopter, three snowcats, assorted skis and snowboards, and LOTS OF CANADIAN ROCKIES SNOW?
Paradise.
Or, as Jay would like to say, “It brings tears to my eyes.”
He added, with no extra prompting, “I get choked up inside.”
I have never seen him get this emotional over cystallized water. I mean, isn’t snow snow?
The answer is NO.
Virgin Canadian Rockies powder, accessible only by helicopter and snowcat, is ULTIMATE SNOW.
As you can see, Dot was not involved in the above five-day snow sport adventure. She would walk out into snow like this, and completely disappear. Even if she was attired in a bright pink Hello Kitty costume.
I wasn’t invited, of course, but I would have sucked out there anyway. Because the helicopter was 1970s creaky old (according to Jay), they all had to strap avalanche transceivers (according to Jay), and there was no other living creature within 100 miles (according to Jay).
Horrors! My little chicken heart would have given out before I stepped out of the lodge.
Luckily for Jay, he’s made of way hardier material. See more Dude Happiness.
He was styling, and, he insists, not in any pain at the end of the day.
These days, it’s rare to find something that tastes incredibly good, with a name that’s simple and to the point (none of that “Eastern Mountain Mushrooms Pork Tenderloin Slices in Three-Sauce Medley” garbage).
Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce you to “Stewed Pork in Special Sauce.”
It is what it is.
Succulent, tender pork, slow cooked with its fat still on, served in some kind of special sauce. (Don’t know what it is, don’t care what it is).
Thanks to my brother Kevin, whose mission in life is to find good-tasting food within the Seattle-King County borders, I am now an addict.
The green stuff is decorative vegetables of some sort, and that yellow dab is hot mustard, which I personally don’t care for. The star of the dish is obviously the MEAT.
And for those of you still playing the game, Pork Fat is the answer to “What is the meaning of life?” and “Why are you not a vegetarian?”, in that order.
You know that awkward silence you get when you meet an ex and you’re with your new boyfriend?
Ye-ah, I thought so.
Let’s all pretend the last post didn’t happen. You know, Too Much Information? Did you really want to know that? Blogs are personal and all, but there’s whining, and there’s whining. I’ll quit now.
To divert your attention, I’d like you to follow the numbers. You can do that for me, can’t you?
(1) I rarely drive to work, but Rainy Days And Wind Days always get me down. The obsessive-compulsive in me couldn’t resist taking a photo of my Gorgeous Beetle, because all beetles are gorgeous.
(2) My office CLEANED UP. Please tell me how clean it is. There’s even a Dilbert cartoon pinned up.
(3) Artist Erich Ginder showed at the gallery last night. He made Grand Marnier Jello Shots in the shape of Grand Marnier bottles. There’s something very metaphysical about that. In case you’re wondering, flaccid means more alcohol. I just wanted to write the word flaccid.
(4) I am serious about the button maker. I made the two on the left. And you heard it here, you heard it firstâ€â€ÂI am putting buttons on my POCKET, instead of the collar or the left/right chest. This will be a trend. It will start in Seattle. And I will claim all credit for doing that. If you see anyone on the street wearing buttons ON THEIR POCKETS, they are copying me.
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