Rocky Mountain Blogger Bash 7.5: Be There or Be Sober

Shamelessly cut and pasted from Zombyboy, who is a significantly better blogger and Bash Host than I...

The Corner Office at the Curtis Hotel
7 June 2007, 6:30 PM

More details will follow (with the potential for some pretty fun stuff thrown into the mix).

You can RSVP on this post (or mine, either way) if you have an aversion to Flash based sites or giving your information to a third party to help us coordinate the events (and no one will think less of you). However...

The site that will keep track of this and the big event at the end of the DNC will also be a fun tool for keeping Rocky Mountain Bloggers in touch with each other. We’ll use it to send invitations, updates, and news, make more announcements, and generally bug each other about things like when we think Andy will return to blogging. (Just kidding, Andy.) (Not really.) A number of people have requested that we send out email notifications when the Bashes are coming up--our group on will allow us to take that step, and I think it will really raise the level of our inebriation professionalism.

No pressure, though. Feel free to leave comments, suggestions, complaints, and requests here--and I’ll (David will) keep track of the most important bits both here and on

For those wanting to take part, here are the instructions:
Steps to becoming a better person:

  1. Sign-up on (Free and easy. Which works well for me.)

  2. From the drop-down menu in the upper left corner (the blue, circle, logo thing), choose Groups.

  3. Search for Rocky Mountain Blogger Bash and request to join the group. I’ll (David will) be approving people for now, although both Shannon (me, Mr Lady) and Andy (WWR) will be taking administrative rolls as well.

  4. Update your contact information in ViewMyLife, so we can more easily bug you when the next Bash is coming up.

One of the reasons we chose to work with the folks when they approached Andy was that they were a Colorado company and we like to support home-town geeks. The other reason was quite simply that they seemed like good people--and they’re devoted to the idea of giving back to the community. In the next few days I’ll be posting information about their charitable work. You’ll want to pay attention in particular if you’re personally involved with a charity.

Lastly--and before we start in on the linkfest of RSVPs--please help us spread the word. We would like to bring a lot of new faces around this time and I know that many of you are far nicer, more charismatic, and better known than I am. Which means you have a better chance of bringing in some new folks to buy me (David) shots (so David can buy ME some.)

And you know how much I (David, though I do too) appreciate the shots.

Andy will be there. Because he misses blogging. I can tell.
Wheels will be there. I think. Not sure. Could happen.
Mr. Lady won’t be there, but she deserves a link because she’s doing the lion’s share of the work on these upcoming blogger bashes.
Doug S. might be there. If we offer him enough cash.
Jed will be there. And I plan to buy him a few drinks. Which is nice of me.
Billlllllll willllll be there. And he’ll probably (rightly) harass me for failing to put his blog on my blogroll. I should fix that problem.
Off Colfax will be there. Mostly because he secretly wants to be part of the secret cabal that makes up the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy. Sick puppy, that.
Darren will be there. Although I could be wrong.
Liz will be there. She’ll be there with other representatives from ViewMyLife.
Bob’ll be there if he can convince his wife that the rest of us are harmless. Which we are. No. Really.

Have I missed anyone yet? Let me know and I’ll get you in the mix.

The Object Pictured in the Shoddy Camera Phone Picture is a One Pound Slab of Butter

Psst...Stark Raving Dads. New Post. You know you want to.

We rose from dinner, boys running outside to indulge in the last of the fleeting sunlight, baby off to play. Once the evening tea was brewed, a few minutes of quiet fell over the house. Beds waited to be turned, dishes waited to be washed, but even I could not resist the cool evening air, the still of twilight, the crisp night air of spring.

I stepped out on my deck, tea in hand, and soaked in the first moments of peace the day saw fit to bring. It’s a good thing the baby can find things to keep herself occupied.

This week's 100 words challenge at Velvet Verbosity is Distraction. Join us here.

Marriage is Just Legal Prostitution Anyway.

Him: You ironed my cargo pants. Huh.

Me: Of course I did. If I'm going to iron, I'm going to iron everything.

Him: You didn't iron my t-shirts.

Me: No. Really? T-shirts?

Him: You said you iron everything.

Me: Everything people can see. No one sees your t-shirts.

Him: That's what you think.

Me: Well, everyone that does see them is going to just crumple them up in a ball and throw them on the floor anyway.

Him: All the more reason to have them ironed.

Me: Maybe you could work that into your fee structure.

(Awkward pause)

Me: $1 a ride and ironing. That's a fair charge, wouldn't you say?

Him: Honey, the only person I pay for sex is you.

Me: Game, set, match.

If You Cared, You'd Have Held an Intervention By Now

Thankfully, this is the last time I am going to subject you to an American idol post. Here we go...

David V David. TO THE DEATH. I bet David Archuleta would eat David Cook's raw, beating heart right after he ripped it from his chest. Kind of like Marilyn Manson in Celebrity Death Match, the video game, just wearing more neutrals. Archie has some aggressions pent up in that little earth-toned, color coordinated package.

Speaking of which, what gives with the shoulder pads, Archie? Seriously, dude. You look like you're auditioning for Tootsie.

Okay, the competition: I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For? Pshaw. Cook found it, and then some. He just won the show. Period. I can't wait until he has a record deal and can stop doing the ballad-esque big note endings. Grrr.

Whaa? Aside: Paula really needs to stop shopping in the Junior's section of JCPenny's. And step away from the Bedazzler.

Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me is one of those songs so easily Mariah Carey'd (you know what I mean, with the aaahhhahAHHH ahaha's).  I think I figured out what annoys me about Archuleta. It's the theater face. The Musical Theater face. I KNOW that face. It makes me want to hit people.

He should have gospeled that song. He could have blown it out of the water if he'd went gospel. He didn't. Oh well. The judges love it, I am meh.

So I Think I Can Criticize Aside: So You Think You Can Dance is Coming. And I am seriously happy about that.

Round Two:

Straight to the Aside Aside: Remember Season One? When they weren't pompous asses about this whole AI thing? Me too, dude. Me too.

David Cook finally got to end a song like a man. Thank you sweet little baby Jesus.

Wow Aside: I get nervous smoking cigarettes in public, and there sits Paula Abdul, cracked out of her fucking mind, for all the world to see. Girl's got balls, yo.

David Archuleta will sell many, many Top 40 albums, and I will be forced by my children to buy them all. God help me.

Randy needs some new material aside: Next year, I'm doing a Randy Buzz Word pool. How many times will he say _____? I'll need a corporate sponsor. Any takers?

Round Three:

This is the round I was most excited for. Until David Cook said Collective Soul's The World I Know. Now, if he'd said Run by Collective Soul? That would have rocked. This is perhaps their least compelling song in my humble opinion, but I have to say that he did a fine job with it. A damn fine job, indeed. I felt that, dawg.

I am a gigantic wuss aside: The tears he shed after this song? Yeah, I might have a little trouble un-sticking myself from this seat.

David Archuleta is singing Imagine. This had better be brilliant...

Well, um. He can just turn anything into a pop song, can't he?

Paging Warbrode aside: I wear jackets a lot because I am totally tubby and they help cover it up. I think he does, too. That is all.

And, for the record, I didn't agree with Simon once tonight. Which is weird.

Seacrest, out.

Winds of Change

(Psst: BusyDad and I have a new post up at our brand new site. Don't be afraid to stop in and say hi.)

Not only am I the worst mother ever, now I get to wear the coveted badge of meanest mother ever, too.

Remember when you were a kid, and you woke up Saturday morning at exactly half past way too early and ran down the stairs into your wood-paneling covered living room and poured yourself a big ol' bowl of Pac Man cereal and grabbed a wire hanger to shove into the back of your tv and plopped down on the orange (or green, if your parents were classy) extra-shag carpet and turned that tv dial no less than 5,719 times to get to the one and only channel on the one and only day that broadcast cartoons?

No? Well, you're too young to be reading this, then.

Yes, well so do I. And now my kids do, too.

I used to forbid tv on schoolnights. Period. The tv went off Sunday after dinner and didn't come back on, except for news, until Friday night. And then my kids started in with the Discovery Channel. Who says no to that? And then one of them went and taught himself how to read adult level geek cheat books at age 7 in order to kick Zelda's ass, and I'm not the only one who thought that was note-worthy, nigh rewardable. I caved. Slowly, almost unnoticeably, they reclaimed the boob tube.

The situation became grim, and my husband and I had to make some "serious decisions." The kids had sat on their asses one too many times, not getting ready for Little League, making us late, having lost a mitt, and he'd just had it. We put them to bed and spent the night "hashing it out." We came to the conclusion that we are the proud parents of two ungrateful spoiled children who don't know how good they have it. I mean, when he was a kid, he had to be out the door at 4 to hit the pool for swim team. I had to have my little brothers and sisters ready to go before I left at 6:15 for my bus. He had to walk 15 miles in the snow oh my god we are our parents.

We "got it all sorted out" and then we went to bed.

And that was our biggest mistake.

We had stayed up entirely too late "making decisions"* and we sort of overslept. And by sort of, I mean I woke up 7 minutes before school began. I ran downstairs, frantically checked my email**, and then found both of my children wide awake, playing fucking Mario or something, in their jammies, not at all ready for school.

They are 8 and 10. It is still technically my job to get them up and ready, but when mom has one long night, I assume they will at least look at a clock. Hells nos. They were busy. I was pissed.

They made it out the door in less than 10 minutes and when they came home that afternoon, guess what? They had lost tv privileges. Like, forever.

We are reverting back to my old rule about no tube during the week. They survived one week intact. They crammed as much as they could get in this weekend, and tomorrow begins week two. God help me.

As if that isn't enough, Princess-TheWorldIsMyOyster-Cup found out the definition of the word Big Girl the other day. Guess who isn't in a crib anymore? Guess who also had to break up with her bottles? That's right. I am cruel. Someone call Child Services.

I converted her crib to the toddler bed. I didn't ask her, or tell her, I just did it. Night one, she was too busy being pissed off about no bottle to notice. Night two she kept asking for Big Wall. What is Big Wall? The missing side of her crib. Tonight went much better. She didn't whine at me at all. Of course, it's 11:13 and as I type this there is a dirty Q-Tip being shoved up my nose, but at least she isn't crying. Surprisingly enough, she took to a sippy cup of water instead of a bottle of milk with no trouble at all.

Oh, wait, now there's TWO Q-Tips. One for each nostril. At least it's balanced now.

I think that I have had a personal revelation or two as of late, but Q-Tips in that story. Maybe another day.

*If you haven't figured out what the " 's are alluding to yet, maybe you really ARE too young to be here.

**Shut up. You'd do it, too, and you know it.