Today as Mike and I G-chatted instead of diligently working on the copious amounts of crap we really need to be finishing up, this wonderful man had a spurt of genius, the extent of which I don’t think he fully understands.

See, a bunch of our friends are getting married this summer, which means lots of invites and the promise of considerable dancing and merry-making to come; however, RSVP’ing does pose one significant drawback. (This is where Mike’s stroke of wisdom comes in).

Mike: so we need to pick what we want for dinners; there are like 4 options

me: mmmm

Mike: which stinks, because i don’t know what i’m in the mood for in the middle of april; I know what sounds good right now.

Yep, pure brilliance.

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Greeley: A Rant

So I love Boulder as much as the next granola-eating, environment-saving, fleece-wearing, outdoor-loving individual, but even I can admit that the place has a flaw.

Each time the wind blows hard and cold from the northeast, it leaves a potent harbinger in its wake: the noxious stench of cow poop.

The thing is, this isn’t really Boulder’s problem … it’s Greeley’s.

Their industry de bovine wafts southward and offends our innocent nostrils. How is that fair?

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Repent! Repent! The end is near …

How do we know we’re near the end of the world?

When we use cute little girls with neon shoelaces and brown vests to promote consumerism and obesity.

You may call it Girl Scout cookie time … I call it Armageddon.

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Finally washed my sheets and pillow cases this morning for what may or may not have been the first time in about six months. Yes, gross, I know.

Somehow, somewhere between my bedroom and the 15 steps to the laundry room I managed to misplace two pillow cases … how does that happen?

Socks, OK, they’re small and compact, but pillow cases? Criminy!

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Names on Boxes

The following is a message that Mike sent me yesterday morning. As a little background information, Mike and his roomies never throw anything away. Thus, they have old boxes a-plenty, most of which still have the first addressee’s name on the box. In this case, Mike was recycling one of William’s old boxes.

9:51 AM Mike: SO the other night i got a box out of the tonnes we have in the laundry room and packed up that laptop i’m going to sell on e-bay
i packed it up, taped it up, and this morning, the box was open
9:52 AM and william was like: “I saw this huge heavy box with my name on it, and got super excited and opened it!”

Pretty funny, no? I literally lol’ed.

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So last weekend, I was chatting with a new friend, Mr. Eugene Buchanan. He’s a rad dude, a great writer, and he knows the paddling and ski industries backward and forward. (Check out his book, “Brothers on the Bashkaus: A Siberian Paddling Adventure” about a rugged rafting expedition.)

Anyway, we we discussing how so many people  don’t read the news because it’s too, well, newsy. The writing is dry and boring, and far too frequently, the photos are crap. Hearing a similar viewpoint from a seasoned veteran–and listening to his confession that even when he does write front-page type stories, he still writes accessibly–gave me the confidence to put this post up on the Daily Camera’s environmental blog, Big Green Boulder … read the post, enter the contest, and then laugh at the photo’s caption.

Cheers to fun writing!

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