Travel & Lifestyle Freelance Writer | Market Research Consultant
We have a pair of wonderful and very generous friends who’ve been letting us borrow their couch for the past nine months.
Unfortunately, over the course of those nine months, Mike and I have become rather attached to the comfortable, old thing.
What are the odds that Jessie and Jeff would believe that we’d accidentally misplaced the couch, and therefore wouldn’t be able to return it?
Mike and I are heading over to some friends’ house for dinner.
“How do we transport the spinach artichoke dip so we don’t look tacky?” Mike asked.
“Babe, we’re going to look tacky. It’s kind of our MO,” I said, remembering that we made the dip two days ago and that the wine we planned to bring costs about $4 a bottle.
“Well, should I just bring it over like it is? Frozen in a yogurt container? Or should I microwave it and put it in our mini-Crockpot?”
Needless to say, we’re nuking it and then toting it over.
Mike just had me log into his e-mail account to check something for him–certainly a rarity since he has a smart phone.
But I’m proud of myself for refraining from sending a couple notes to friends telling them they left the oven on or that their pet snake got out of its cage, since I could have done so undercover.
Guess the good angel on my shoulder won out.
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 I’ve never been a huge fan of “chatting” on-line. I didn’t have the Internet when AOL was huge. I never really got into AIM. And I’m not on Facebook long enough to have any sort of conversation.
And let’s be honest … far too often it’s some random person who you haven’t spoken with since high school (and who you didn’t really like in high school) who’s apt to “chat” you.
But today, sitting in a Boulder coffee shop, Cafè Sole, next to two great friends, I made excellent use of the G-Chat function of G-mail.
See, somebody nearby smelled. BADLY.
So obviously, it would have been rude to say something along the lines of “Holy crap, what’s that rancid stench?” Or, “For crying out loud, who’s wearing onion-flavored deodorant?”
Enter G-Chat’s functionality. We were able to mock, laugh and deride whichever individual sitting near us hadn’t showered in a month. All in a (relatively) silent manner.
Actually, both ladies thought I should use my investigative journalism skills to figure who the culprit was. But what publication would run the story?
Obviously … The Onion.
Pretty funny, no? I literally lol’ed.