What is it about you that simultaneously makes me tingle in the crotch and causes me to question the very nature of human sexuality? You are but a cartoon yet I find myself longing to objectify you. In the midst of my drunken haze yesterday at the Colorado Rockies game, you teased me on the Jumbo Tron with your winning smile, your pink tresses flipping out from under your ball cap and your vibrant green eyes confidentially stating, "I am cute, I love Colorado Rockies baseball and I fight big insurance by defeating its evil representatives in assorted sporting activities." Was it not you who went screaming down a mountain on a snowboard chased by mindless goons on snowmobiles just to save me 18 cents a month on my automotive policy? Was it not you who took to the ice in a desperate hockey match against villainous robots bent on lavish insurance premiums only to defeat them by playing goalie, offense and defense and eventually scoring the game-winning goal with a wicked slap shot? You little pink-haired minx. You have stolen my heart and more importantly, you have made me believe that I do not have to spend a bundle on auto insurance.

Labels: erin the esurance girl, open letter, perversion

Now added to the list of watchables that woo me to sleep other than professional golf: Ghost Rider. I put this on our Netflix queue as I was looking for something to counter-balance the fucked-upedness of Alpha Dog*. I attempted to watch this unreadable comic made into an unwatchable movie twice over the weekend and fell sound asleep both times. My wife made it through the second viewing only to proclaim upon me regaining consciousness, "Wow. That really sucked." Eva Mendes is a black hole of talent; aside from her willingness to show full frontal nudity, no other redeemable qualities can escape from her gravitational field.

* I treat our Netflix queue as if it were a mix tape I was giving to a junior high school girlfriend. Just like I would not put Kix's "Don't Close Your Eyes" and Every Mother Nightmare's "Love Can Make You Blind" back-to-back, nor would I arrange for Requiem For A Dream and Wonderland to be in the same mail drop.

Labels: movies, sleep

I understand life on the streets is daunting. I am not judging you for climbing on the hood of a car and offering to perform oral sex on an undercover cop. I am even willing to overlook the fact that you have AIDS yet still sell your diseased ass to be violated by anyone with a twenty dollar bill. It is unforgivable, however, to be wearing a Colorado Avalanche sweater in your booking photo. Were they all out of Kenyon Martin jerseys when you stole that from Sports Authority or something? Your only saving grace would be if you lifted a Brad May or Temu Selanne sweater off the clearance rack.

Labels: hockey, open letter, sports, whores

One downfall of the new office location is the lack of decent eateries. Despite the area being redeveloped into the fancy new architecture/design district, we are still surrounded by industrial warehouses and old cement factories that closed during the Carter Administration. Our immediate food options include two McDonalds gas station annexes, a Quiznos and a strip mall Mexican joint that does not deserve to be named. These past few days we have been venturing into nearby Five Points as it provides places to eat that specialize in food rather than Coors. For those unfamiliar, Five Points is one of the oldest neighborhoods in Denver that is renowned for its jazz history, its rich black heritage and its high crime rates (or perception thereof). Today, upon Jake's recommendation, we rolled up on Tom's Home Cookin' for some soul food. I ordered the fried chicken, mashed potatoes, collard greens and corn bread and am still wallowing in its delicious glory. My boss was rendered speechless by the peach cobbler and proclaimed upon regaining his facilities that our future intern would soon be making afternoon cobbler runs. The best part of the dining experience came after the meal when we walked back to the car and caught the chef sharpening his butcher knife on a curb in the parking lot.

Labels: denver, five points, food

Many moons ago I posted a list of my top five favorite Denver female news personalities inspired by a crude hockey locker room discussion. This list has been in dire need of updating as Kathy Sabine (at post time an uncontested number one) now regularly rocks the JC Penny's power suits and teases her hair like some sort of Charlie's Angels reject. I have no doubt she is sporting high-waisted mom jeans and a braided belt during her time away from the 9 Backyard. Due to the aforementioned factors and some up-and-coming lookers, Sabine is now riding the pine. I give you my updated hottest local female news personalities list:

1. Crystal Egger
2. Libby Weaver
3. Molly Hughes
4. Becky Ditchfield
5. Deborah Takahara

I hope this serves as a wake up call to you, Kathy Sabine. Cheap suits and a general malaise about your appearance have dropped you out of the starting lineup behind a weekend weather girl that roots for the St. Louis Blues and a field reporter assigned to Whei Wong's old beats. Suck in your pride, torch the wardrobe and drop some dime at Macy's or Express or Ann Taylor Loft or anywhere that has a clothing style more recent than 1987.

Labels: becky ditchfield, deborah takahara, kathy sabine, libby weaver, molly hughes, whei wong, women of my news

Tomorrow I start the new gig and I am wetter than a mating walrus with excitement. Much of my elation stems from the fact that my office is located in the titty-licous TAXI By Zeppelin Development. If Grandpa Broz were alive today he would be proud that I was bringing the Brozovich name back down to Globeville (from the 1930s through the 1970s, Globeville was the capitol of the Denver Slavic community and home to any handle ending in "vich" or "czk"). Being as my Great Uncle Al and Aunt Tillie still live in the old 'hood, I might just have to hit them up for a sandwich and a WWII or rail yard story one day for lunch.

Labels: career, denver, taxi dev

Friday, June 29. My daunting three-day trial on the unemployment line ended when I was offered an Art Director position immediately after a two-hour interview. I accepted the offer and start this Friday. The people seem great and of the non-douchebag variety, the pay is solid and my skill set should grow exponentially. That night our neighbors extended an impromptu invite "for a drink" over the fence. We ended up staying for six hours, helped drink their cooler dry, gorged ourselves on barbecue spare ribs and watched their 13-year-old daughter's recent European vacation slides.

Saturday, June 30. With the wives at a baby shower talking about their uteruses, I stuffed an amazing basket of fish and chips down my cake chute and drained numerous Coors Light pitchers at Clancys with CH, Tyler and Fateh. Aside from the poor patio location and a bad wait staff that included a red-haired meth skank that kept forgetting our orders and a chubby blond girl with a giant snake tattoo, good times were had by all. That night we ate a late sushi dinner and took in 1408 with Team Sutton. It was refreshing to watch a movie in a theater since we have not done so since the Korean War.

Sunday, July 1. The wife and I celebrated our one-year anniversary. We walked around our deserted wedding venue in the 100-degree heat sipping on blended coffee drinks, ate heaping plates of steamed mussels and took in back-to-back movies thanks to my criminal wife who snuck me into Ratatouille in the confusion of the exiting Rise Of The Silver Surfer crowd. It was refreshing to watch movies in a theater since we have not done so since Saturday, June 30, 2007.

Labels: career, drinking, sg crew, unemployment, weekend that was, wife