Thursday, May 22, 2014

Let Your Heart Speak to Other Hearts (or something)

That's today's super inspiring, not at all creepy that organs are talking mantra on my yogi tea.  I've been chugging yogi cold season teas all week as I slowly die from overexposure to life.  Slash...a cold.  What started as a smoker's cough (note:  NOT induced by smoking) has now turned into full fledged chest caving in lungs filled with fluid head filled with fog full on death-bug.  Which I'm sure everybody on the 4 hour plane ride home today will appreciate to no end.  Also, I'm still scheduled to run/walk/seriously just walking a 10K on Monday.  It's raising money for something I'm sure.  But anyways, SO not ready for that.  But I will persevere!  (think, a gospel singing "We Shall  Overcome!")  I shall go forth into the lofty heights of Boulder, Colorado, and after having run 1 of the 6.2 miles that constitutes a 10K, I will slow my pace to a mere walk, so as to not spill the margarita that will surely be in my hand moments later.  The race ends with a jog around the track in the CU stadium, as earlier finishers hang out in the stands, cheering and jeering.  This will be especially good for me, as one of those rich Boulderites will be a doctor who can help when I go into cardiac arrest.

But since this is the end, and my tea has already decided to remove my heart from my body, it's only fitting that this post be dedicated to my own obituary, which I often like to update and refresh for when that fateful day soon arrives.






On the morning of May 27th, a small corner of the Denver Post will read thusly:

Here lies Denver Omlette.  He was many things to many people.  To some, he was a visionary of the written word.  To others, a terrible speller.  He saw the world out of the porthole of a leaky freighter, was a collector of memories and once interrupted a lecture at Harvard...oh wait that was Joe Pesci in With Honors.  Actually, if he was alive he'd probably tell you, "Who the hell is Ankris?  They spelled my name wrong!??!  What the hell!"  In that way, he was so poetic.  His greatest achievement is that he has seen every episode of Criminal Minds and as such, felt he could have stopped a serial killer without even having to throw his coffee out the window BECAUSE THERE'S JUST NO TIME!  He is survived by many friends and family, none of which seemed to have a $5 spot when people were collecting money for his funeral.  His funeral was paid for by the Institute of De-Hybridization, where he had donated all his scratch off ticket cash winnings in order to find a way to separate the scariest hybrid animal ever to walk the earth, the Wolf-Spider.  Let his death not be in vain.  Note:  A lawsuit is pending over his estate's wishes to bury him with his arms out of the ground, so that he could always scare anybody coming to the cemetery and pretend to be a zombie. 

Thursday, May 15, 2014

3 AM Thoughts About Mrs. Scarborough

In my 9th grade English class, every month we would have to do some sort of presentation on a book we read, off whatever nationally prescribed non-book burning reading list that was the going concern of the day.  These presentations were typically short, and could be anything from a full blown report, to something as silly as a diorama.  The most popular option, though, was a "book bag."  The Book Bag was literally a paper bag that contained items that represented different, meaningful parts of the book.  The great thing about a Book Bag is that you could be as creative as you wanted, and the farther the stretch, the more points you got for finding the symbolism in the story.  What this usually turned into for me, was a mad dash the morning of my presentation searching for items that I could plausibly use in my Book Bag.  Whether it be a stress ball that could represent the pliable nature of the lead character, who always seemed to bounce back and come full circle (That's like 3 symbols alone!)  Or a toy airplane, which represents that most of the story really took place in a much higher "plane" of existence.  Or a stapler, (which was suspiciously missing off my teacher's desk that day...) which represented...uh...the...um...binding  contract between author and reader that what we are entering into is an intimate tale of...uh....I forget.  I think I got a "C" on that one anyways.  Of course, the problem with this technique is that, while you might think it the epitome of lazy, you'd be surprised by how much more lazy I could get.  At some point in the year, I stopped even replacing the items in the book bag and just tried to use the same 3 things each presentation.  Pretty soon the "F's" started rolling in.  Still the best English teacher I ever had.

But the great marvels of the world are not made by lazy students who enjoyed reading, except when told he had to.  No, they are made by people much better than me.  And I don't just mean the Eiffel Tower, or sliced bread (which I understand is the bar for greatness.)  Even more local things, such as the new Union Station in downtown Denver qualifies.  I went to the grand opening of Union Station over the weekend.  There's nothing quite like a brand new structure.  Fresh paint without a scratch.  Halls so shiny, it's hard to even imagine the gang related graffiti and pictures of boobs that will be plastered all over the walls in a few short months.  But knowing that this beautiful structure would be pristine for only this moment in time, I tried my best to preserve it in pictures.





Of course I say all these things while entering my 7th week in D.C., which is nothing short of the greatest collection of man made marvels in the country.  I am scheduled to go see one myself in June, with some coworkers who I fear greatly.  No seriously....I'm going with the 5 scariest people I know.  To the top of the Washington Monument.  Where nobody can hear my screams. 

Anyways, I'm way too tired to writing anything else today.  Unfortunately after two good nights of sleep, my body rejected the idea of going to bed early last night and I woke up at 3 AM.  Not being able to go back to sleep, I decided to go have a quick work out at the gym at 5:30 AM, which is clearly the stupidest thing I could do.  Heck, I didn't even CHECK if HBO had something good on.  What's happened to me?

Oh yeah before I go, this also happened over the weekend:


Because it's just totally normal in the Middle of May to effing snow.

Thursday, May 1, 2014

The April of it All

Forgive me followers, for I have sinned.  It has been exactly 13 days since my last blogfession.  But before you chastise me, and before I start saying my hail marys, (or it hail merries?) (Tony Hale?)

Well whatever it is, you must understand that this blog started as a way for me to pass the time while waiting for my Candy Crush lives to replenish during my do nothing day in Denver.  But since coming out to DC, the core hours of my day have been filled with something I haven't seen for many years now.  Something I didn't even believe existed anymore.  I'm talking about work!  I have things to do!  I stay late finishing them!  I look at the clock and say cliche things like, "where did the time go?" as if it went faster for me than for anybody else!  And it makes me happy.  I'm more alert throughout the day.  I feel healthier.  Even my posture is better.  I'm not slouching, watching clips of Jimmy Fallon lip sync battles on youtube.  Actually....that I miss.  My health has gotten better, with my constant running, although my wine intake is at an all time high.  Good for the heart right?  A bottle a day keeps the nightmares away?  Isn't that how it goes?

Anyways, I know why you're here.  You've been salivating at the mouth waiting for it.  You want pictures, not this archaic text nonsense.  So without further ado, (but plenty of future ado after this post, cos who knows when I'll post again), here's my April:

First off, if you haven't figured it out, or just forgot, I'm in DC for 3 months.  Possibly 4.  Here's proof.  The photo you're about to see is not an illusion.  I just take crooked pictures.


Also, as if the Washington Monument wasn't phallic enough on it's own, I got a shot if after it went through puberty.














Then, on a day where some of you were celebrating marijuana's nonsensical holiday, I celebrated the holy day of Easter, aka Zombie Jesus.

The ritual begins with mixing of the unholy colors

The ritual ends with the praises to god that this is finally over

My contribution.  Satanic Judaism egg and possibly Alien egg.
After Easter was over, and I went back to Denver for a weekend, I did a great many things.  Most important of these things, was running in that 5K that I've been bitching and moaning about for months now.  I will say that I did not perform up to my own expectations for how much I'd run, but I had fun, completed the race, and got more purple powder farther into my ear canal than I can ever hope to recover.



What else?  I went on a little nature hike in Denver recently too.  I guess you might like some pictures of that as well?

Earth!

Wind!
Yucca! (I mean Fire!)
Water!


Heart! (I mean irate prairie dog wondering how this tree got planted on his house.)
Now, I know that, typical of this blog, you were expecting possibly an over-analyzed complaint of my day.  And believe me when I say I'd like nothing more than to give you that.  I could tell you about this bat shit crazy people I work with up here...the stories I've heard.  I could regale you with tales of my nightly adventures with wine.  I could dissect the very nature of my every movie I've seen on plane rides in the last 4 weeks (and it's a lot!)  But I am not going to do those things.  Is it because I've reached a point in my life where I'm just happy and don't have the anger in me to do it?  Maybe.  But most likely, it's because I lack any kind of focus or attention span due to my daily over indulgence in these little guys:

Whether you're 3 or 33, this is the best shot ever.
 So that's it for now!  Hopefully I can have one boring bad day that will fuel a whole post of the crazies out here.  I have SO much to tell about them all!