Wednesday
Feb102010
Backfires, and Other Random Gun References. Because, Apparently, I Like Guns Suddenly. Whatever; I Went to Denver And This is What Happened.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010 at 11:12AM | Mr Lady
I spent last weekend in Denver, watching one of my very best friends in the whole world get married. I had every intention of using my weekend back home, snuggly tucked away in a downtown hotel room, to work on my book or to catch up on sleep or to take a series of what were to be the longest showers in the history of bathing - because I could, that's why - but I made it downtown, tripped and fell into this:
Amy and Aimee and Jeremy and Jim and Bugfrog (wisely not pictured) and me and the bottle makes three tonight. Or something like that. And then I ended up with my old friends from the bar I worked at in Denver, with whom I totally intended to have deep, meaningful conversations about life and love and the proper amount of ammunition to carry on one's person at any given time, but all I walked away from that night with was a headache, puke breath and this:
I think that's a photo of a lime dipped in sugar, which means I was A) with David at Whiskey Bar and B) excessively drunk and C) had a raging case of the hiccups. Do I remember why I took a picture of a lime dipped in sugar?
What is a Rhetorical Question for $300, Alex.
A few hours of sleep and one bottle of Aleve later, I watched my kids godfather get married.
After the wedding, my other best friend and I intended to have a glorious, albeit last minute date night, complete with bottles of wine and cushy hotel beds and late night tv and general girly giggliness, not like that, pervs, but we ran into ALL my blog-fathers at a Rocky Mountain Blogger Bash Fest.
Jed got a fabulous camera pic of my tits sweet face Combs smiled because he realized that Texas has changed me from a left-wing tree hugging hippy into a gun-toting, oil-guzzling libertarian. And there was much rejoicing. And by rejoicing, I mean 'welcoming me to the dark side'. And by welcoming, I mean getting hit on by Zombyboy and Vodkapundit.
And then I overslept, again, and didn't have time to get the family gifts on my way home which is fine if I'm in, like, Kansas or something but not even close to okay if I am in the land of their birth, so I did the cheesy airport gift-shop run for the boys and the cheesier airport-at-home gift shop run for my daughter, who can't read but thinks Texas is a great name for a new stuffed monkey, and when I handed out the gifts as they piled on top of me in my doorway at home, my husband came up behind all of us, put his hand on my shoulder, and sweetly whispered, "Welcome home, honey." I looked up at him and, with a little wink, said, "You'll get your present later." He smiled, and we turned to our children. What I'd hoped to be a subtle, sultry moment between my husband and I turned into our oldest son sneering at us and saying, "GROSS, guys", and storming off in a cloud of unmitigated tweenaged disgust.
I think my kid is on to us.
Amy and Aimee and Jeremy and Jim and Bugfrog (wisely not pictured) and me and the bottle makes three tonight. Or something like that. And then I ended up with my old friends from the bar I worked at in Denver, with whom I totally intended to have deep, meaningful conversations about life and love and the proper amount of ammunition to carry on one's person at any given time, but all I walked away from that night with was a headache, puke breath and this:
I think that's a photo of a lime dipped in sugar, which means I was A) with David at Whiskey Bar and B) excessively drunk and C) had a raging case of the hiccups. Do I remember why I took a picture of a lime dipped in sugar?
What is a Rhetorical Question for $300, Alex.
A few hours of sleep and one bottle of Aleve later, I watched my kids godfather get married.
After the wedding, my other best friend and I intended to have a glorious, albeit last minute date night, complete with bottles of wine and cushy hotel beds and late night tv and general girly giggliness, not like that, pervs, but we ran into ALL my blog-fathers at a Rocky Mountain Blogger Bash Fest.
Jed got a fabulous camera pic of my tits sweet face Combs smiled because he realized that Texas has changed me from a left-wing tree hugging hippy into a gun-toting, oil-guzzling libertarian. And there was much rejoicing. And by rejoicing, I mean 'welcoming me to the dark side'. And by welcoming, I mean getting hit on by Zombyboy and Vodkapundit.
And then I overslept, again, and didn't have time to get the family gifts on my way home which is fine if I'm in, like, Kansas or something but not even close to okay if I am in the land of their birth, so I did the cheesy airport gift-shop run for the boys and the cheesier airport-at-home gift shop run for my daughter, who can't read but thinks Texas is a great name for a new stuffed monkey, and when I handed out the gifts as they piled on top of me in my doorway at home, my husband came up behind all of us, put his hand on my shoulder, and sweetly whispered, "Welcome home, honey." I looked up at him and, with a little wink, said, "You'll get your present later." He smiled, and we turned to our children. What I'd hoped to be a subtle, sultry moment between my husband and I turned into our oldest son sneering at us and saying, "GROSS, guys", and storming off in a cloud of unmitigated tweenaged disgust.
I think my kid is on to us.
Reader Comments (25)
WEll, it took long enough for him to catch on, sheesh!
Holy weekend of LOVE!
Sorry I missed you.
Awesomeness! Wish I could have been there. Ah well. I'll get in touch when I'm your direction again.
Sounds like a fabulous time! :)
I'm glad you had a blast.
However I'm SUPER pissed I missed hanging out with you.
Stupid job.
I am so glad I now have a word to describe my 12 year old's typical response to just about everything - tweenaged disgust. Perfect.
Thank god for airport gift shops. Without them, the rate of child-on-traveling-parent violence would skyrocket. And the snow-globe industry would need a bailout. Glad you had fun!
We are always happy to have you visit us in Colorado and wish you would come more often. Deep inside, though, I know you're still a left wing, tree-hugging hippy chick.
Which is entirely okay since you do it so damned well.
Denver, with photographic evidence. http://www.whiskeyinmysippycup.com/2010/02/10/intention/
Very nice account of the whole thing. Great to finally meet you in person however briefly :)
I spent a 3 days in Denver and all I got was this stupid hangover http://www.whiskeyinmysippycup.com/2010/02/10/intention/
Backfires, and Other Random Gun References. Because, Apparently, I ...: I had every intention of using my weekend ... http://bit.ly/byuCkt
fun times.
my kids used to tell us to "get a room." when we would answer, "OK!!!!" they changed their tune.
I wanna go to Denver with Mr. Lady. That sounds like weekends I had many moons ago. :-)
And my dude and I were JUST wondering about the age that the kids would catch onto mama and daddy getting it on.....and so now I know. We have a few more years....
Miss ya chica....
Wait til junior finds out daddy's gift was the lime dipped in sugar. Double gross, guys.
Backfires, and Other Random Gun References. Because, Apparently, I ... http://bit.ly/bd7Zg8
They do grow out of that eventually. My daughter is 21 and she stopped sneering at hubby and me about 2 weeks ago.
I am still hungover.
Backfires, and Other Random Gun References. Because, Apparently, I ...: And then I overslept, again, and didn't ha... http://bit.ly/9CJ6qc
Yeah. My daughter is always like "UM, I'm standing RIGHT HERE you guys"...
Heh.
Sounds like a great trip, even if it wasn't exactly what you'd planned :)
SO SO SO bummed I did not get to bask in your loveliness...and the loveliness of everyone else!
Next time Dude! Totally next time!
xoxo
I love it when I stumble across a blog that feels like coming home--and not just because you're a big drunk like me.
You really got me with this: "Texas is a great name for a new stuffed monkey."
Yes, it is. Why, yes it is.
*giggle*
Awesome.