The first classers on my relatively short flight last week likely paid six times as much as I did so that they could get a banana and a bowl of Corn Flakes. To me, that’s just not worth it.
Now, if first class seating meant I got to wipe my butt with two-ply toilet paper, I’d be all for it.
Impressive, but how thick is the toilet paper? Thanks to Richard Moross on Flickr.
So somebody stole my license plates … as in plural … as in front and back.
I mean, really?
No, this isn't mine ... Pic by Otto Yamamoto on Flickr.
Pic from Sam on Flickr at Oskary5.
After careful consideration, I have arrived at the conclusion that there’s only one possible art form that can wholly capture the fun of Laura, Brittney and Andrea’s Hash Run: A limerick.
Through much of Boulder we ran,
Following the hares’ dastardly plan.
A photog took pics,
As we ran ‘midst his clicks,
Though we didn’t see Todd or his van.
See we started at Connor O’Neils.
Then ran cross some streets and through fields.
We drank beer in the middle,
And after solving the hares’ riddle,
We ate ice cream sundaes with zeal.
If you need more pics, check out Sam’s photostream.
So the first bike ride since returning to Boulder went pretty well.
I mean, the rain I ran into wasn’t great.
And the hail was a little irritating.
The wind (and all of the little bits of rock and grit it carried with it) was pretty strong, but it didn’t knock me over.
The thunder that reverberated through the sky was a little scary.
And then the smoke that I rode through coming from the fire that was caused by the lightning that struck only a few feet from the road–that probably wasn’t my favorite part of the ride.
But all in all, not bad.
This morning (at four fricking 30) on the way to the Denver International Airport Nicole and I were chuckling at some friends’ past misfortunes.
One had once missed a flight by mixing up 12 a.m. and 12 p.m.; another almost went to the airport two evenings in a row by confusing 12 a.m. on Wednesday with 12 a.m. on Thursday.
Both are easily made mistakes a.m. and p.m., noon and midnight. I’ve gotten them confused on other occasions, though none so catastrophic as to miss a flight.
Nicole and I got to the airport together at 5:15 but were taking different flights, so we parted ways and I went over to American Airlines to check in and print my boarding pass.
Departure: 6:10 a.m.
Boarding time: 5:40 a.m.
What?! Now it was 5:22 a.m.
Turns out I’d confused 6 a.m. with 7 a.m., which seems like it would far more difficult to do than to mix up 12 a.m. and 12 p.m.
Guess that’s what I get for rolling my eyes at others’ debacles. Damn karma.
About two years ago I promised myself that I would never again buy chapstick.
After acquiring another six free sticks of SPF-ed lip balm thanks to Boulder’s annual Bike to Work Day (my favorite holiday), I hereby renew that promise:
I, Courtney Holden, aspiring professional journalista, hereby promise, once again to, from hereafter, never
again purchase a product that coats my lips.
/s/ Courtney Holden
(I’d sign here, but I can’t figure out how to change my font to something in cursive.: