My secret weapon

No, I'm not talking about my legs that bend this way and that to Guns N' Roses songs, I'm referring to this little wonder we call the Mexican Miracle Medicine. Any event involving rich food or drinking must be preceded by the consumption of two of these little white pills. Dan and I have really weak stomachs and this medicine helps tremendously. It's called Onoton. If you're ever in Mexico and have foolishly eaten at a roadside stand or consumed water from the tap you should go to the drugstore immediately and buy it. I've been lead to think they don't sell it in the US because it contains some kind of opiates. Dan's brother, who is a doctor, says certain opiates are banned for medicinal use in our country. I don't know if it's true but I like the thought of smuggling opiates, even if it's in a small and insignificant way. I have packed plenty for this weekend and I'm ready to consume camping's finest cuisine to my heart's content. Gracias Mexico, I owe you one amigo.

Indianola the prequel

Before the monkeyshines last Saturday there was a brief time we were all acting like civilized adults. Here are the pictures to prove it:

Aren't they a cute couple? Thanks to the Koivu family for all the awesome food, drinks and good company. I can't wait for the wedding.

Busy summer weekends = busy dancing feet

Last weekend we went to Amy and Taylor's couples shower in Indianola. Taylor's parents have a beautiful house and they were nice enough to let us stay the night. After a few glasses of sangria, some beer and a couple greyhounds I was dancing like a retard. I don't remember doing the robot but I do remember doing the Axl which is my impersonation of Axl Rose bending his legs this way and that. Usually I pretend I'm singing into a mic, and usually I'm piss drunk when I do it. It was all good until about 5am when I woke up feeling like this:

Whenever I drink too much this is what I see in the mirror the next morning, and yes, it smells as bad as it looks. The ferry ride home was less than pleasant. Luckily Dan and I just needed some Gatorade and a nap, no IV's required. 

This weekend we are headed to my favorite place in Eastern Washington, Alta Lake. I am not planning on dancing the Axl, but you never know...

SPOGG

I like to scrutinize grammar, specifically the abominations in my coworkers’ emails. I’ve gotten such ear-steam inducing phrases in my inbox as, “your killing me”. I wanted to write back, “you're killing me”. I’ve also seen phrases come through like, “the self’s are full”. Seriously, where did you learn English? You all know I can’t handle, “please advice”. There’s also the rampant disregard for punctuation. I can tell you’re excited with just one exclamation point; you don’t need to use seven and make yourself look like an 8-year-old in line to see the Jonas Brothers.

Today is a good day in my book because I have been introduced to SPOGG, The Society for the Promotion of Good Grammar. The founder of this gem of a society needs to hightail it to my office and give my coworkers a whoopin’.

Here’s the mandatory disclaimer that you will see spelling and grammatical mistakes in my blog. I’m not perfect and I really don’t think I’m the queen of grammar (maybe just the princess, or the court jester). Anyway, I’m not trying to get all grammar elitist on you. I just think there are glaringly obvious imperfections in my coworkers’ emails and they should at least take a cursory glance at their compositions before hitting send. That’s all. Moving on…

My birthday is coming up and one of those SPOGG mugs would look mighty fine on my desk. Just sayin’.

Staring contest, place your bets

Meh

There hasn't been much going on lately. Lola turned 4 on June 4th. Dan bought her a cake and a big stuffed monkey that makes an incredible grunting noise when you squeeze his belly. We call him Mr. Monkey, original, I know. He gets along great with Lola's other friends, Duck and Paper Towel Roll. He's wearing a stupid hat and his eyes are crossed, so he fits in great at our place.

I've been battling skull searing boredom at work lately. I don't think I can do one more crossword puzzle. My cubicle walls are closing in on me. I think it's time for an intervention. Let's get together, I'll pretend I don't know about it, and you'll fix a pitcher of margaritas and tell me I need a new job. Deal? Sweet. I'm free most weekends in July.

I took my car in for an oil change and now they're replacing my transmission. Does that seem weird to you? My car is only 2 years old. Now I'm driving Chaplin VW's loaner I have nicknamed the pukeymobile because it smells wretched. I drive with the window open most of the time and wash my hands immediately when I arrive at my destination. It doesn't have a sunroof or seat heaters and all the radio pre-sets are programmed to 100.7 The Wolf. I think this car is the portal to hell. My cubicle comes a close second. I think my cubicle is Satan's plan B in case the car doesn't whisk me away to hell as it's supposed to. Clever Satan, very clever.

Is the sun ever going to come out? Well? Is it?

And finally, TFI go F yourself. Maybe I'll be in a better mood tomorrow.

Easy Preppy

I went over to my parent's house last night and discovered Carolina has turned into quite the prepster. She even had her collar turned up, how ivy league. She gave me the look that says, "I came here in my Mercedes and I'm smarter than you. By the way, this ribbon in my hair was really expensive, pass the caviar"

It's like high school vocab

Have you ever felt the urge to enhance your vocabulary and donate rice to starving people at the same time? No? Well then you will probably hate this website. Don’t go there if you’re not interested in the glorious compilations of letters that make up our beautiful language. Don’t go there if you hate starving people, or rice. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.