i've decided to end my blog mostly because i've lost interest in it. i left a couple blog entries that are my faves.
the end.
Friday, March 21
Sunday, March 16
my week in jail... i mean, vail
So last week I spent the entire week in Vail, not jail -- like my mom first thought when I told her. "You're in jail?!"
It was weird, not the snowboarding part. That I LOVE to do. I spent most of the week going solo. When you're by yourself on the lifts and at a ski condo, either you're more likely to talk to people or other people are more likely to talk to you.
Needless to say, I observed several things. Though some of this might sound judgmental or whatever, but nonetheless these are my observations... so deal with it.
I felt like most of the people there weren't necessarily hardcore or avid skiers and snowboarders -- dude most of them were coasting on the greens -- they were usually folks who had some serious money like where they could buy super expensive lift tickets, pay for airfare, and condos or a house (which many owned those). The privilege.
I know what you're thinking, "aren't you one of those privilege?"
Well, I would say I'm that local die hard who's addicted to snowboarding because I am. Not to say those guys aren't addicted to their yearly trip to the slopes, but it's just different. To me it doesn't matter where I ride as long as the snow is good and lift lines are short I'm a very happy camper!
I guess, to be honest, I felt out of place amongst the wealthy. It's almost the middle-class kid showing up at the exclusive country club in the neighborhood and realizing that he/she has more in common with the bathroom cleaning lady than the members.
Sorry if this sounds critical, it's more of an internal conflict I personally have. I met so many people who vacation at Vail or Beaver Creek and spend tons of money for just 4 or 5 days on the slopes, probably what they pay for their lift tix is what I pay for my season pass.
Needless to say, I don't think I'll stop snowboarding or anything like that because of this. Really it's more like an odd feeling I have. I can see why so many of my friends screw the resorts and head to back country. They do it for the love of the sport not for the prestige, power, and way to show-off your wealth to your friends.
Anyway, I loved my trip and very much appreciated the free ski condo I got for the week.
It was weird, not the snowboarding part. That I LOVE to do. I spent most of the week going solo. When you're by yourself on the lifts and at a ski condo, either you're more likely to talk to people or other people are more likely to talk to you.
Needless to say, I observed several things. Though some of this might sound judgmental or whatever, but nonetheless these are my observations... so deal with it.
I felt like most of the people there weren't necessarily hardcore or avid skiers and snowboarders -- dude most of them were coasting on the greens -- they were usually folks who had some serious money like where they could buy super expensive lift tickets, pay for airfare, and condos or a house (which many owned those). The privilege.
I know what you're thinking, "aren't you one of those privilege?"
Well, I would say I'm that local die hard who's addicted to snowboarding because I am. Not to say those guys aren't addicted to their yearly trip to the slopes, but it's just different. To me it doesn't matter where I ride as long as the snow is good and lift lines are short I'm a very happy camper!
I guess, to be honest, I felt out of place amongst the wealthy. It's almost the middle-class kid showing up at the exclusive country club in the neighborhood and realizing that he/she has more in common with the bathroom cleaning lady than the members.
Sorry if this sounds critical, it's more of an internal conflict I personally have. I met so many people who vacation at Vail or Beaver Creek and spend tons of money for just 4 or 5 days on the slopes, probably what they pay for their lift tix is what I pay for my season pass.
Needless to say, I don't think I'll stop snowboarding or anything like that because of this. Really it's more like an odd feeling I have. I can see why so many of my friends screw the resorts and head to back country. They do it for the love of the sport not for the prestige, power, and way to show-off your wealth to your friends.
Anyway, I loved my trip and very much appreciated the free ski condo I got for the week.
Saturday, December 1
All the dogs I loved before...
I have had only 3 dogs in my life.
First there was Ginger. A mid-sized poodle and she was appropriately named Ginger since she had 'ginger' colored hair. Man, I loved that dog and I'm pretty sure she loved me more. I successfully fed her food since ripe old age of 1. My first sentence was "Ginger, get down!" I think I thought that was her formal name. I like the name Ginger because since she was my first dog and all, I have a nice 'stage name' = Ginger Sundown. Look out Colfax, my go-go boots ready to go minus my bloody Swedish calves are too big for me to wear the boots. Oh what was I talking about... ah-yes, Ginger. I was very sad in 6th grade to lose her. My favorite thing about her is that she would super duper excited if anyone came over. In fact, so excited that she wet her pants, if she had pants, but since she doesn't she peed all of the floor inevitably. Then she would get embarrassed, the shameful kind where you want to write to YM and tell them about your mortified stories. Ginger died mostly because she was ready to. She knew it was her time yet we kept feeding her fancy food she couldn't resist. Cancer took her life. We all missed her. And still to this day I am convinced that she was the glue that held my family together.
Then there was Muggsy a Shih Tzu; Muggsy was named after Muggsy Bogues the shortest NBA basketball player, 5'3'' [my height]. We got him when I was a snotty teenager; he's more dysfunctional dog since the year we got him was the same year my parents seperated. He had master-issues which caused him to act out by peeing all over my soccer bag and corners of furniture. Man, Muggsy was freakin' hilarious. This was the kind of dog you could totally be yourself in front of, but he wouldn't understand a word you were talking about unless you mentioned the words: cookie, walk, or Muggsy. He wasn't smart but I taught him a few tricks like begging on his hind legs for food and stealing my sister's undies from her room. He loved to play chase -- we joked that he was a running back in a former life -- and he loved to eat cookies / treats. He died due to the fact he was addicted to 'roids from a back injury, slipped disc. He's missed and is currently buried in my mom's backyard by a tree.
And, last but certainly not least, my step-dog Honey, a honey colored mutt with mix btwn yellow lab and some other less attractive dogs. She's my step-dog since she was techinically my step-dad's dog. Anyway she died this past week and is the main reason why I'm writing this. We were all shocked by her untimely departure. She was an odd dog and thought everything was weird. This dog never played with dog toys or did anything dog like. She was a roamer and hated to be boxed in the backyard. In fact she was nicknamed Houdini because somehow she would always find a way to get out of the backyard and into the front. She once got busted by the po-po for roaming around the hood. What can I say this girl liked to lay out in front lawn and people watch and some dog-cop decided to shoot her with tranquilizer, bastard! Poor thing was so freaked out after that she hid in my mom's closet for a week! Anyway, Honey's bark was worse than her bite, not that she bit me or anything. Her disposition was gentle, odd, and very sweet. She will be missed.
I hope to get a dog some day. I want a big dog, but not so big that I can't pick her up. I want a girl dog because Muggsy peed all over my stuff growing up and that totally pissed me off!
I'll attach a picture of each dog when I can so you can what they looked like.
Anyway, please feel free to post comments about all of the dogs you loved before. AND, please post real dogs not your ex-boyfriends. Gracias!
First there was Ginger. A mid-sized poodle and she was appropriately named Ginger since she had 'ginger' colored hair. Man, I loved that dog and I'm pretty sure she loved me more. I successfully fed her food since ripe old age of 1. My first sentence was "Ginger, get down!" I think I thought that was her formal name. I like the name Ginger because since she was my first dog and all, I have a nice 'stage name' = Ginger Sundown. Look out Colfax, my go-go boots ready to go minus my bloody Swedish calves are too big for me to wear the boots. Oh what was I talking about... ah-yes, Ginger. I was very sad in 6th grade to lose her. My favorite thing about her is that she would super duper excited if anyone came over. In fact, so excited that she wet her pants, if she had pants, but since she doesn't she peed all of the floor inevitably. Then she would get embarrassed, the shameful kind where you want to write to YM and tell them about your mortified stories. Ginger died mostly because she was ready to. She knew it was her time yet we kept feeding her fancy food she couldn't resist. Cancer took her life. We all missed her. And still to this day I am convinced that she was the glue that held my family together.
Then there was Muggsy a Shih Tzu; Muggsy was named after Muggsy Bogues the shortest NBA basketball player, 5'3'' [my height]. We got him when I was a snotty teenager; he's more dysfunctional dog since the year we got him was the same year my parents seperated. He had master-issues which caused him to act out by peeing all over my soccer bag and corners of furniture. Man, Muggsy was freakin' hilarious. This was the kind of dog you could totally be yourself in front of, but he wouldn't understand a word you were talking about unless you mentioned the words: cookie, walk, or Muggsy. He wasn't smart but I taught him a few tricks like begging on his hind legs for food and stealing my sister's undies from her room. He loved to play chase -- we joked that he was a running back in a former life -- and he loved to eat cookies / treats. He died due to the fact he was addicted to 'roids from a back injury, slipped disc. He's missed and is currently buried in my mom's backyard by a tree.
And, last but certainly not least, my step-dog Honey, a honey colored mutt with mix btwn yellow lab and some other less attractive dogs. She's my step-dog since she was techinically my step-dad's dog. Anyway she died this past week and is the main reason why I'm writing this. We were all shocked by her untimely departure. She was an odd dog and thought everything was weird. This dog never played with dog toys or did anything dog like. She was a roamer and hated to be boxed in the backyard. In fact she was nicknamed Houdini because somehow she would always find a way to get out of the backyard and into the front. She once got busted by the po-po for roaming around the hood. What can I say this girl liked to lay out in front lawn and people watch and some dog-cop decided to shoot her with tranquilizer, bastard! Poor thing was so freaked out after that she hid in my mom's closet for a week! Anyway, Honey's bark was worse than her bite, not that she bit me or anything. Her disposition was gentle, odd, and very sweet. She will be missed.
I hope to get a dog some day. I want a big dog, but not so big that I can't pick her up. I want a girl dog because Muggsy peed all over my stuff growing up and that totally pissed me off!
I'll attach a picture of each dog when I can so you can what they looked like.
Anyway, please feel free to post comments about all of the dogs you loved before. AND, please post real dogs not your ex-boyfriends. Gracias!
Monday, October 22
The Ralph Saga
Ralph, as in puke, came into the house tonight as soon as I opened the door to come inside. [Just so you know, he or she (not sure the sex) is the displaced neighborhood cat.]
So, he ran straight to my room, then under my bed.
My roommate Karen and I didn't know what to do. I mean, Denver had our first snowstorm of the season, so it's quite cold outside.
So, I gave Ralph some of Karen's milk. I don't own cat food or anything similar to cat food. I have hummus. That's what I eat.
Ralph takes a couple of sips of milk then curls up on the couch.
A few hours later Karen and I look at each other and talk about Ralph staying the night. I was open to the idea since it's cold, but I didn't want Ralph to keep me up and he's stranger. Plus lets not forget he bit my shoulder a few weeks ago, little effer.
Anyway, Karen opens the door and on our front porch she sees Ralph's ralph, real puke. That was a deal breaker for Karen. So she threw him out.
I feel bad. I do. I mean, the cat needs a home, but neither one of us want a cat. So... yeah.
So, he ran straight to my room, then under my bed.
My roommate Karen and I didn't know what to do. I mean, Denver had our first snowstorm of the season, so it's quite cold outside.
So, I gave Ralph some of Karen's milk. I don't own cat food or anything similar to cat food. I have hummus. That's what I eat.
Ralph takes a couple of sips of milk then curls up on the couch.
A few hours later Karen and I look at each other and talk about Ralph staying the night. I was open to the idea since it's cold, but I didn't want Ralph to keep me up and he's stranger. Plus lets not forget he bit my shoulder a few weeks ago, little effer.
Anyway, Karen opens the door and on our front porch she sees Ralph's ralph, real puke. That was a deal breaker for Karen. So she threw him out.
I feel bad. I do. I mean, the cat needs a home, but neither one of us want a cat. So... yeah.
Tuesday, October 9
30 Update and Ralph the Cat
So, I've been 30 for over a month now. It's been good so far. I mean, my health looks good so far: no cavities, no changes with the eye sight, no potential surgeries. So, all and all good signs of health.
But, ever since I moved into my fabulous new house, my roommate and I have had a little visitor. His name is Ralph, as in puke, he's black with yellow-greenish eyes. Very slender. Anyway, any time I'm on the front porch he'll somehow appear. Usually, while I'm eating bruschetta and drinking a glass of vino he'll come meowing up a storm.
As expected, I at first was apprehensive towards the cat. Mostly because I don't like cats all that much. I'm a dog lover.
I kinda assumed that the cat was only befriending me because I'm 30 and single. My big fear was that he and the rest of his cohorts will strategically make me the crazy cat lady in the ensuing years, possibly months. Of course, I'm resisting and hopeful that I won't be. I'd rather be the crazy dog lady on the street.
Needless to say, in a few short weeks the bloody cat, Ralph, began to warm-up to me. I mean, I looked forward to his visits and his unabashedly sitting on my lap while eating or working on my laptop.
All was good until last night. I was petting Ralph and being playful with him. My roommate and I even commented on how we could trust Ralph. And then, out of no where, he bit my effing clavicle! I have two bite marks on my shoulder blade.
I can't trust Ralph. He's not the cat I thought he was. It's over, Ralph. Over.
But, ever since I moved into my fabulous new house, my roommate and I have had a little visitor. His name is Ralph, as in puke, he's black with yellow-greenish eyes. Very slender. Anyway, any time I'm on the front porch he'll somehow appear. Usually, while I'm eating bruschetta and drinking a glass of vino he'll come meowing up a storm.
As expected, I at first was apprehensive towards the cat. Mostly because I don't like cats all that much. I'm a dog lover.
I kinda assumed that the cat was only befriending me because I'm 30 and single. My big fear was that he and the rest of his cohorts will strategically make me the crazy cat lady in the ensuing years, possibly months. Of course, I'm resisting and hopeful that I won't be. I'd rather be the crazy dog lady on the street.
Needless to say, in a few short weeks the bloody cat, Ralph, began to warm-up to me. I mean, I looked forward to his visits and his unabashedly sitting on my lap while eating or working on my laptop.
All was good until last night. I was petting Ralph and being playful with him. My roommate and I even commented on how we could trust Ralph. And then, out of no where, he bit my effing clavicle! I have two bite marks on my shoulder blade.
I can't trust Ralph. He's not the cat I thought he was. It's over, Ralph. Over.
Saturday, September 29
Friday, September 28
Trade
If there's ever a movie that anyone should see, it's the new film Trade.
I saw this film in August, a special showing for film critics. I'm not a film critic, well a professional one. I only saw the film because it was a work thing for me. Don't believe the critics reviews, they're a bunch burnt-out lameos who missed the point of this poignant film.
Trade is about sex / human trafficking not only in the States, but across the globe. Never have I ever felt so much emotion towards an issue that impacts everyone. I cannot reiterate enough that this film has captured the humanistic side of an industry that is vile and disgusting I left feeling like I wish God never created sex. I did. The reason why this heinous act exists is because of creepy men demand it. If there wasn't a demand then there would be no sex trafficking.
Moreover, as we're moving towards an important election year keep sex trafficking in mind when you vote on immigration reform. In fact, I highly recommend that you ask your federal and state legislators specifically how their immigration reform will impact sex trafficking in the US. The demand for it also comes from the allure of desire to live in a prosperous country with strict immigration.
Click on this link for more info on Trade; and get involved to help combat the sex trafficking industry.
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