Thursday, June 26, 2014

Tacos Filled with Taffy and Other Things Being My Friend Brings to Your Life

Today's USA match against Germany reminded me of the late 80s cult classic comedies like Ski School, where the American rebels with a devil may care attitude and usually sweet shades would go up against the austere German ski team, with matching outfits and goggles and blonde lovers (who of course would later be either 1.  found in compromising positions with the American players, 2.  lose their bikini top because there's always so many opportunities to wear a bikini while skiing in the mountains, or 3.  be found to actually be American and of course end up with the leader of the rag-tag bunch of good for nothing Americans who would win in the end.)  But of course the difference today was that the U.S. didn't win, but they still get to have a sequel.  You don't have to be the best, in order to win.  Somebody else just has to be the worst.  This attitude works both in soccer as it does at work, or in other parts of your life.  At work, I employ this philosophy through a technique I call "Finger Pointing."

D.O., where's that report I asked for?  WAITING ON THAT ONE GUY REMEMBER?  ITS HIS FAULT!

D.O., what are you going to about that email we just got?  CAN'T DO ANYTHING BOSS UNTIL I GET SOME GUIDANCE!

D.O., where have you been all day.  WHERE HAVEN'T I BEEN ALL DAY!  (answer:  at my desk.)

I'm pretty much a pro at this work-technique; however, it does backfire sometimes.  In those instances you must be humble.  And when I say humble, I mean humble-brag.  "YOU'RE RIGHT I SHOULD HAVE HAD THAT DONE BY NOW...HONESTLY I'M SURPRISED AT HOW FAR I AM IN THAT TASK HAVING ONLY BEEN HERE A WEEK!"

Also, maybe don't yell all that at your boss either...

Last weekend, I was back in Denver, learning tennis from this guy:


And relaxing at the pool while this atomic cloudsplosion happened in the distance:

I joke, but seems like all Denver gets these days are horrific thunder-hail-apocalyptic-end of days storms anymore.  Glad I'm not there for any of it!

What else?  Oh yeah, on Friday, we went to this small gin distillery in Boulder called Roundhouse Gin or Roundhouse Kick Gin, or Hillbilly Ginja (patent pending).  Anyways, it was awesome.  All organic ingredients in this small gin maker / distributor / winner of contests in 5 time zones.  Some of our group were late to the tour, so they asked me to recap what we learned.  Bad idea.  Here was my response.

"Well, I spent half the tour trying to figure out if the guy's beard was red or strawberry blonde (also not sure what strawberry blonde really is but people say it all the time), and then I spent the second half of the tour trying to figure out where all the dripping water was coming from.  At that point he was talking about barrels or something.  But then he gave us gin to shoot and scream woo! and there were jars of ingredients so I smelled them all.  The End."

Yeah it was pretty awesome.  This is a picture of Kevin probably telling his dad that he only tells dad jokes and it's not super awkward at all.


Here are the crowd's reaction to this not super awkward conversation:



That guy on the right goes by the name Chris Dodge.  You may recognize him as a McDoyle from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, or that one guy in that one movie with Jason Biggs where stupid stuff happens and a stupid song that you can't get out of your head plays.  (see:  All 90s movies)  To be clear, he is not that guy, but I try and tell him that he is every time I see him.

Finally, Sunday was the big baby shower day for my friend.  As you may know, I was put in charge of coming up with some way to reveal the baby's gender to not only those in attendance of the shower, but to the family themselves.  Only the doctor and myself knew this baby's gender.  I still contend that based on the sonogram, the baby is a crocodile, but according to the paper that said Girl! I suppose the crocodile is also a Girl!

For the gender reveal, I compromised on my earlier brilliant idea of making a vagina pinata, cracking it open with phallic bat, and having a bloody baby doll fall out.  Some people in my focus groups were appalled at the idea.  By some I mean all.  I need a more open minded focus group...

Before I write this next paragraph I feel like it's important for you to know that I just got stared the eff down by this asian chick walking by my office.  I'm scared.

Anyways, back to the story.  So I compromised my vagina idea by having a local artisan I found through Craigslist fashion me up a taco pinata.  The taco, of course is a subtle nod to the vagina.  I had to pick up this pinata in a Wal-Mart Supercenter parking lot in a sketchy part of town.  Thankfully, she was not the Craigslist Killer (this time) and the transaction of cash for taco was a great success!  As was the pinata.  I should have just done the vagina.  I realized afterwards that it didn't really matter what I did since the revealed gender of their baby would take all the attention anyways.














Finally, right before I left the baby shower, I was put to work in helping to create the baby's entire first year's worth of clothing apparently.  Slash, I colored one shirt with fabric markers.  Here's my contribution to the baby's weirdness:


So that's another weekend down, and I'm back up here in DC for the next 3 weeks! The adventures of drinking and trying to see if I can avoid death by falling down the escalator because I'm too tired and/or hungover to walk continues!  Stay tuned for the next adventure!  Same bat time! Same bat channel!

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