Monday, January 13, 2014

Denver...Where the Beer Flows Like...Apple Juice?

At the beginning of every week, I'm supposed to update my outgoing voicemail message on my phone to the effect of, "This is who I am, this when I'm supposed to be here this week, this is who you should call instead of bugging me with your idiotic question."  Some days (read:  most days), this is the only work related thing I have to do the whole day.  Even then, I typically forget to update it, and will get somebody calling leaving some snarky message about, "well since you haven't updated your voicemail I don't know if you'll answer this or not, so I'll proceed to call everybody you've ever worked with in your whole life with my question."  Awesome.

Thus begins another pointless week of nothing.  But at least, I can reflect back on my fun weekend, as I count down the hours before I get to home each day.  Last Friday, I was finally able to catch up on sleep from the trip back from Florida.  Some how (knock on wood), I didn't get sick this vacation, unless you count the 5 days where my mom's cat was leeching the life force from my body in a Tiger's Eye type scenario.  Wasn't that the name of the movie?  The one with Drew Barrymore?  Am I thinking of something else?

Anyways, after resting up Friday, I went out with a neighbor (you read that right.  1st success of the new year)  to a hard cider grand opening.  This guy's architecture firms seems to focus on doing awesome projects for breweries and mellow mushrooms.  This hard cider place, called Stem Cider, is a new brewery opened by these two guys who had decent jobs but decided to risk everything and start a cider business while the industry is still deciding on whether or not it is a successful project.  It's a brave and admirable thing to do though, to quit your job and do what you love.  Although, it gets a lot easier when both of your wives are doctors.  Vacation in the Bahamas sounds like it's happening whether or not succeed.  And if regular business is anything like the grand opening, well I think they'll be alright.

I can't say for certain, but this could have just been the crowd that was running for their lives away from this Bluegrass band.

Oh yeah, and my neighbor's wife supposedly got a "24 hour bug" the night of this cider event, which of course I immediately conspire to mean that she didn't want to hang out with me, probably because she was embarrassed by how she made a fool of herself at Thanksgiving.  I only say this because the next day she showed up on facebook at the New Belgium brewery tour looking QUITE healthy!  Anyways, that's another story.

On Saturday, I spent the majority of the day dog shopping.  Coincidentally, somebody apparently is heating up some dog food right now for lunch...based on my keen olfactory senses.  But anyways, I went to two different adoption events and one sad shelter, but unfortunately none of the dogs were whispering to me at all.  It could have been that I don't really know what I want.  It could be that, like everything else in life, I'm just too picky.  Or it could be that one of the rescue groups that was at an event kept referring to their dogs as "cockers."  They even said something to the effect of, "once you go cocker, you don't ever go....." whatever.  Since the day was not fruitful, I think I'm going to just go the online route.  The way I understand how these fostered animal adoptions work, it goes in 6 steps.

1.  Fill out adoption application that asks you more personal questions than your priest or mortgage lender.

2.  Get contacted by a person fostering the dog you want, who will arrange a meet and greet for you.

3.  Meet dog, assume it's on medication, and that it's energy level with you will probably be uncontrollable.

4.  Have a home visit by somebody from the rescue, who will probably say something like, "well, this shithole might be good enough for you and your kids, but not for this homeless dog we found on the highway 4 weeks ago."

5.  If you some how get through those 4 steps, you get the dog for a trial period.  I guess this is to see if you would make good roommates.

6.  Finally, when you realize the dog has some kind of incurable disease they didn't tell you about at the rescue, and the vet bills are $1000 / month, you leave the dog on the steps of the rescue group with a note that says something like,

"You will travel far, my little Kal-El. But we will never leave you... even in the face of our deaths... the richness of our lives shall be yours. All that I have, all that I've learned, everything I feel... all this, and more I... I bequeath you, my son. You will carry me inside you... all the days of your life. You will make my strength your own, and see my life through your own eyes, as your life will be seen through mine. The son becomes the father, and the father, the son. This is all I ... all I can send you, Kal-El"
 Man that will eff with their minds so much!  Anyways, after all that I went to play ping pong at a bar for somebody's birthday.  On Sunday, I made bread with a new breadmaker, and want to Michael Scott the smell of fresh bread every morning from now on.  I would do bacon on the Foreman, but this whole stupid vegetarian thing is preventing me from doing that right now.   You that I'm sitting here thinking about it, the fact that I'm meat deprived these days might be why I really think a great name for a dog would be Chicken.

I just blew your mind, like this nuclear explosion I saw out my office window the other day.

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