In the movie Zootopia, what is the significance of the City being 211 miles away from the rabbit's town? Why doesn't she just say "over 200" or something?
I have an idea. Let's go catch an international soccer match in the South of France, what could be cooler than that? https://www.theguardian.com/footbal...raise-fears-of-more-clashes-with-england-fans
Well, time for me to eat my words about myself. Turns out you can actually go from being a self-proclaimed "alcoholic"' to actually getting back on the wagon in moderation and enjoying alcohol for what it is. I feel like a douchebag for talking E-shit about myself and booze. Best guess is I just needed to mature.
It's a work in progress. Biggest thing is I'm completely terrified of where I was, and every time I crack open a can or bottle I'm well aware that if the same feelings return it's back to zero no questions asked. I got the right support system in place this time (unlike when I stopped; lost a lot of "friends" and fuck them anyway).
It went from highs of 38C to 14C in less than a week, and it's now snowing on the local ski hill.... fun times. Spent the day in the shop making all the small pieces parts for my corner book shelf unit... all the pieces are done, edges all routed over, sanded down, and ready for the final glue-up. Hopefully that'll be tomorrow, then I can do the final staining and finishing. If all goes well, I should have a custom made corner shelving unit for next weekend. I'm kind of happy about that. But now? It's all about the red wine and leftover Chinese food.
This morning I drank my morning coffee in front of the AC unit, imagining myself sitting on my second story balcony with my mountain view and crisp morning weather. I almost believed I was there, for a second. Then I took the dogs out to 87F, 71% humidity in my bathrobe and sweated a little bit. I was somewhere much cooler for 30 seconds, though....worth it.
Yea, I kind of did that today. I went to the grocery store and could see all the way north to Longs Peak, Mount Evans was in the middle and I could see Pikes Peak to the south. The mountains are snowcapped with little grey rocky veins where the snows melted. I'll miss this city. I'm sure Minneapolis is nice, but Colorado is a cool place.
I really want to move to Colorado for a few years. If el husband can get a contract gig out there, I'm gone. Hell, I might even fall in love with the place and want to live there permanently. I definitely want to travel a bit once he gets his degree, and I have a list, but Colorado is on the top of the stack. Are you moving purely for a job, or are you moving "back home"?
I'm going there for grad school. I'll be studying for a Masters at the University of Minnesota. I'll be in Katokoch's country. Minnesota seems nice enough, I've heard a lot of things about it, but I've only been there twice so it'll be a change.
Colorado is fucking awesome. I lived there for a few months. Specifically, Eagle County which is fantastic, as is Summit County. Anywhere between there and Boulder is sportsman's paradise all year round.
Speaking of live music, I just got back from seeing Toadies and The Reverend Horton Heat play in New Braunfels yesterday. The show was yesterday, and I went up there with the girl with the glorious bush, and we spent Sunday in San Marcos, snorkeling in the river. The Reverend Horton Heat played a good set, which I guess redeems him for his pathetic showing in Houston last November. (Good lord, what a hose-job that show was.) Toadies rocked ass, as usual, and there was amazing news: They're going to record a new album soon! Also, there was a pretty cool band called Purple with a female vocalist/drummer, and I'm going to look up more of their music. All told, it was a great weekend.
Folks, I need something to put a smile on my face. The news is so fucking dark and bleak, the kid is sick with who-the-fuck-knows-and-why-can't-my-kid-just-be-healthy-for-two-fucking-seconds... I just need something positive. Post some jokes or something. Puppies and idiots diving into frozen pools. Pictures of Ballsack and his hairbrush. Anything.
Angel, I would post a pic of my dick, but I don't think you're looking to die of a heart attack from laughing.
Last weekend, I woke up around 7:30 Saturday morning, opened the front door to go get the newspaper (yes, some of us still do that) and was greeted by an unfamiliar suitcase on our front porch. It was large, and very heavy. It also wasn't ours, and had no name tag on it. As it turned out , the luggage tags, which had a name we didn't recognize, were irrelevant as well. I briefly considered opening it, but decided against it. Yes, it was likely just clothes. But it could have been heroin, explosives, cash, body parts, or smuggled turtles. Sometimes not knowing is better. For similar reason we also didn't bring it in the house. We got in touch with the airline, who, while erring fantastically in delivering it to our house, were actually helpful and tracked down the owner quickly. It turns out the owner was the daughter of our next door neighbor, who had flown in from LA for a wedding. However, she flew into JFK airport ( about 50 miles from our house) and was staying on Long Island, where the airline should have delivered the luggage, and now she had been waiting for 2 days for her clothes.
I'm gonna get about a dozen baby ducks here shortly. Cute pictures of those should make anyone smile (also their eggs are fucking tasty, which is what I'm really after).
Angel, here's a funny story that happened where I work two years ago that relates to Misanthropic's story. One of the older guys I work with used to share a cubicle wall with me, so I often heard his conversations. He's old school, so it was exceedingly rare for him to get a call from home while he was working. That being said, his wife called and I heard his side of the convo, which started off confused, moved to incredulous then morphed into tightly controlled anger. Turns out after he left for work, his wife went out the front door. When she opened the door she found wedged between the storm door and the interior door two large clear jars filled with some kind of odd-looking liquid. There was not note and they were (obviously) not expecting anything to be delivered. What do you do in this day and age when you open your door to find jars of strange liquid wedged into your house? If you're Ted's wife, you pick them up and put them in the fridge, then go to work like the day is normal. When she had a moment she called my coworker to ask if he knew what they were, hence his conversation. First he was confused. Then he was alarmed, because holy fuck - what the hell is that shit? Last year Winnipeg had a nut job mail a bomb to his wife's lawyer and blow off her arms, so we live where anything can happen. When he wrapped his head around what had happened then realized these weird jars were sitting in his fridge unattended, well. Needless to say Ted was upset. All's well that ends well, though. A friend had dropped off some kind of soup broth for his wife to try out. I can't fathom why they'd not leave a note, but obviously it doesn't matter. Ted's wife will collect any odd item left on their porch, put it in the fridge and ask questions later.