I’m a jerk

Got a text last night from a friend asking if Mike and I wanted to go to a delicious Mexican restaurant here in Boulder, Efrains. Having already made dinner plans with some other buddies (see last post about the Reese’s debacle), I couldn’t go.

So I didn’t respond to the texto.

However, on a different occasion, I’d planned to go to said restauranté  only to find out it was closed on Sundays.

When I noticed the text, I distinctly remember thinking to myself, “Hmm, good luck eating there. That place is closed today.” I chuckled and deleted the message.

In retrospect it wouldn’t have been that difficult to tell Jess that I couldn’t go.

And it probably would have be thoughtful to advise her and her fiancé to pick a different dining option, thereby saving them the wasted trip.


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So Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups are delicious. Really delicious.

Ask any kid dressed up for Halloween whether he’d rather have a Reese’s or a Snickers; I’ll bet you a dollar which one he’d choose.

Now because they’re so delicious, most of us are willing to put forth the extra effort to penetrate the double wrapper. First, one plunges through that outside orange covering, and next, one must muster the strength to move forward and further remove that brown, waxy paper stuff stuck to the Cup’s bottom.

Tonight, a group of friends were gathered munching on the little baby “fun size” Cups (whoever came up with that inaccurate adage “fun size” should be hung upside down by their toenails, by the way … or at least publicly humiliated. How could having less candy be more fun? Come on people!). Small, yes, but still delish.

Mike was aggravated, understandably, because his little Cup had an extra little brown wrapper on the bottom. So after cutting through the tinfoil outer wrapper like a champ, he struggled to get the next brown paper off only to find his forays foiled. Another wrapper!

But he took to the task, wrestled it off, and enjoyed the peanut buttery choclatey-ness to the full.

Whew. Tiresome work.

But it turns out that Mike’s endeavor was simple compared to the feat ahead of our good friend, Scott Weirich. Later in the evening, he snagged a mini Cup out of the bag, possibly a bit twitterpated at the possibility within … see, this particular Cup was a bit bigger in size than its smaller brothers.

“Aha!” he probably thought. “A big ‘fun size’ Cup!”

Little did he know that his hopes were doomed. He began to unwrap:

Tinfoil: gone.

Brown, waxy layer: gone.

Second brown, waxy layer: gone.

Third, fourth, fifth brown, waxy layers: gone.

Sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth brown waxy layers: gone.

Eleventh brown, waxy layer: gone.

And there, behold, the prize. A normal, fricking “fun sized” Cup.

Somebody get that man a medal. And perhaps a Band Aid for his aching and exhausted fingers.

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Question of the day

I have about one swipe of deodorant left and no sticks in reserve.

Here’s the question: Do I apply before going mountain biking, an activity in which I will undoubtedly sweat significantly.

OR, do I save the swipe for AFTER the ride, thereby ensuring a fresh aroma emanates from my person for the ensuing happy hour.


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The good life vs. the affluent life

Pedaling my bicycle home from the grocery story yesterday, I was reveling wholly in the freedom of Spring Break. I wondered to myself why anyone would ever want to leave school.

Then I remembered the “Manager’s Special” fish I had jammed in my backpack that had roughly another 36 hours before it started to decay …

Oh yeah … that whole “money” thing.

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Two guys sitting behind me are skyping with a colleague likely hundreds of miles away. They’re talking about spreadsheets. They’ve been talking about spreadsheets. They’ll undoubtedly continue to talk about spreadsheets.

Boulderites are brilliant … but there are some seriously large nerds in our midst.

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Just spent the last two hours using Vista Print to create the perfect business card … well, it’s probably  not the perfect business card … but it’ll do.

I’m trying to spread the word about my writing and look all professional when I meet people in the Boulder community who I want to suck up to, er, let know that I’m a journalist.

The irony comes in the fact that I could have spent that time working on the stories I already have assigned to me.

Especially since, of course, I ended up ordering the first card I designed … about one hour and 43 minutes ago.

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