After running down an errant couch on I-25, the wife and I decided the time was nigh to purchase a new automobile. We first called our credit union to get pre-approved for a loan and were pleased to learn they offered their customers a free auto broker service. This was exactly what I wanted to hear as car salesman rank in character somewhere between necrophiliacs and Rent-A-Center employees to me. The wife and I were referred to a genial gentleman named Gordon. He called to inform of us of an auto inventory showcase they were having the next day at Bandimere Speedway and invited us to come down and test drive whatever he had. So we did. He introduced himself and then became scarce and the wife and I spent the rest of the morning speeding new and used whips around the hills near Morrison, Colorado. We fell in love with the 2008 Toyota RAV4, both for the V6 engine and the stellar Consumer Reports ratings (thanks EZ). After discussing the features we were looking for in an automobile with Gordon, he informed us that he would scour the Denver metro area for what we wanted. The next day he called to inform us that he procured a 2008 flint-colored, be-moonroofed Toyota RAV4 and that he was driving it up to the crib to let us take it for a spin. We loved the damn thing (of course) and two days and fifteen minutes of paperwork later, the wife and I had us a new ride.

The Ghost of War made her final voyage yesterday (a youngster in Castle Rock bought her for $500) first to Santiagos for a sack of breakfast burritos and than to the office. She was a steady machine that gave me scant trouble in ten years of hard driving (I work a clutch like a Mexican field hand works a burro). Godspeed, Ghost of War. May all your future rides be down the smoothest of couch-free roads.

Labels: colorado, denver, ez, ghost of war, l-i-v-i-n, technology, the greens, wife

Long time friends of the MB, Mark and Sara, ruined their lives over the weekend. It was a lovely affair that went down at Red Rocks Amphitheatre and included Apache Wedding blessings, drinking and revelry, an R2D2 cake and a slideshow of two fine-looking youngsters in love. I understand your reasoning for putting us at the Smashing Pumpkins table, Mark, but were we at least considered for The Clash table? I must know. Congratulations (again) from the wife and I. Enjoy England/Scotland/Ireland. Also, something for you to consider.

Labels: /mark, colorado, wedding, weekend that was, wife

• Alamosa, Colorado. Home of the Great Sand Dunes, a college where slightly above average suburban high school athletes go to die and now, free salmonella!
  
• McDonalds sack 1, Brandon Marshall 0. Brandon Marshall joins the esteemed list of other Denver professional athletes who obtained an injury under strange circumstances (read: getting caught in a lie). Congratulations Brandon! You will now be held in the same esteem as Clint Barmes breaking his collarbone while carrying deer meat (read: being flipped off of a four wheeler) and Brian Griese tripping over his dog, falling down the stairs and spraining his ankle (read: taking a tumble while sloppy drunk). Look on the bright side: almost losing an arm is a better thing to be remembered for than talking about practice.
  
• Mirror gets thrown from Colorado University dorm room window. Hijinks ensue.

Labels: colorado, link goodness, sports, stupidity

• Click here to see the reason why I am hooked on A&E's Intervention (pun intended). Naked meth whore's journals are eerily reminiscent of a former coworker of mine who was rumored to be on the pipe. She used to sketch magical spirals and write "NO" repeatedly in her notebooks during board meetings.
• Michael Jackson may be losing the Happy Pedophile Ranch due to some back taxes.
• The Colorado Avalanche made some big moves before the trading deadline netting them Peter Forsberg, Adam Foote and Ruslan Salei. In other 1999 news, American Beauty wins the Oscar for Best Picture and folks are starting to get serious about this Y2K thing.

Labels: colorado, drugs, hockey, link goodness, pop culture, sports

In just a few short hours World Series tickets will be going on sale. I will be attempting to score seats for games three, four and/or five. Being as tickets are only being sold online, season ticket holders get first dibs and only 18,000 seats will be available to the general public per game, chances are slim that I will be drunkenly heckling Coco Crisp for being benched from the nosebleeds. I claim partial responsibility for the Rox incredible run, so I think the baby Jesus owes me the blessing of tickets to one game (at least). If no tickets are procured, I will officially renounce the Christian messiah and go the god-hating way of Perez.

Update: The risen infant Christ has forsaken me. Ticket purchasing attempts were made on a Mac via Firefox, Safari and Netscape while simultaneously rolling the office PC test computer on IE, Firefox and Netscape. All to no avail. (Shaking fist at sky and screaming, "Evolution rules!")

Labels: colorado, rox revolution, sports

Conspiracy theorists have long been masturbating to DIA for its seemingly clandestine activities. To date, the Freemasons, Illuminati, UFOs, underground military bases and reptilian aliens have all been linked to Denver International Airport. Prophetic messages are claimed to be seen in the art murals of Leo Tanguma that predict the impending apocalypse (conspiracy theorists apparently have never taken an art history course nor are familiar with Mexican muralista painters). Traveling in and out of DIA on countless occasions I have never seen any concentration camps full of reptilian aliens nor any Freemasons holding a virgin sacrifice in Concourse A, but I have seen some long goddamn lines at the Frontier check-in counter.

Labels: colorado, conspiracy, denver

Nameless Elevator Rider #1: I hate snow. We had an inch and half of it on the ground when I woke up this morning.
Nameless Elevator Rider #2: We didn't get any snow at our house.
Nameless Elevator Rider #1: (angrily) Well you don't live in Conifer.
My Thought Bubble: Conifer. Eight thousand feet above sea level. In the Rocky Mountains. Where it snows at least eight months out of the year. You dumb bitch.

Labels: colorado, downtown

I am tired of your attitude, Winter. This is not the cabin scene from Dr. Zhivago. This is Colorado and we revel in living at high altitude. We are used to eight inches of snow falling one day and then melting by sundown the next. As it stands now, the mountain of plowed snow in the town home parking lot is just growing in size and I am dangerously close to losing the bet I made with the wife in regards as to when it will melt. Granted, it was a friendly wager but just once in this marriage I would like to be right.

Labels: colorado, l-i-v-i-n, snow, the fairways, wife

Working from home affords some tremendous opportunities; like watching the incompetence of our home owner's association labor contractors unfold before my very eyes. Take this afternoon for example. Armed with shovels and picks, Indian Summer Landscaping was out in full force today with orders to chisel away at the layers of ice on the driveways and sidewalks. This work is essential as Colorado is expecting another big storm this Friday and it would be helpful to have unobstructed gutters and walkways so the snow/ice can melt faster. Instead, I watched as the laborers worked hard at dragging their shovels down the middle of the already plowed street, smoking cigarettes and sucking down Giant Big Gulps. I hope we get fifteen inches of snow and you assholes have to work through the weekend.

Labels: colorado, l-i-v-i-n, snow, the fairways

Here in Denver, we have not pulled an intact, fossilized woolly mammoth out of the permafrost yet but I did just witness a family of Eskimos clubbing a baby seal out in the town home common area. I awoke this morning to another big winter storm (now dubbed "The Storm That Should Not Be") and the third immense snow dumping in the past three weeks. We are currently sitting on about seven inches of fresh snow here in the northwestern suburbs and it does not appear to be stopping anytime soon.

Labels: colorado, l-i-v-i-n, snow, the fairways

Christmas came and went without much aplomb; spirits were imbibed, holiday cookies were devoured, presents were opened, kittens went bezerker rage on their stockings and cousins in from Baghdad with an affinity for strip clubs and Heinekens were entertained. The wife got me some new creative direction slippers to keep my feet warm while I command oversea subcontractors from afar and utilize new Apple products in the home office. It appears I will be getting screwed out of another work snow day tomorrow as the Kwanzaa Blizzard rolled into the metro area this afternoon to blanket the foot of snow not yet melted from the Hanukkah Blizzard.

Labels: blizzard, colorado, l-i-v-i-n, snow, xmas

One of the few things that sucks about working from home is you do not get a snow day unless the power goes out. I spent most of the Hanukkah Blizzard aftermath on the phone with my genial new boss going over job duties and procedures. Around lunch the wife and I went outside to dig my car out as the plow company packed a night's worth of snow in front of the community parking area. At dusk we strapped on our snowshoes and went for a trek around Lake Arbor Golf Course. It was a beautiful evening of breaking trail and assuaging cabin fever. Now we are hunkering down for a night of terrible 80s movies (Cocktail is on as I post this), a blasting furnace and Amaretto eggnogs.

Labels: blizzard, colorado, l-i-v-i-n, snow

Today, in the midst of Hanukkah Blizzard, I accepted a Creative Director position with a small design firm in Denver. I will be able to maintain the pants-free lifestyle I have grown accustomed over these past months, as my office will be in my home. I will occasionally venture out for a cup of coffee or a sandwich and maintain connectivity with the world via all form of modern technological accouterment (cell phone, computer, IM, email, carrier pigeon). Other than that, society is officially dead to me. This career path is free of company-wide circle jerks with CEOs who receive Xmas cards from unemployed designers that lie about profits, revenues and layoffs. Once the roads are deemed safe by the governor again, I will be rolling up to the Apple Store to drop some coin on a new iMac and MacBook. Final unemployment statistics: 101 resumes sent and nine interviews all spanning three months, one week and one day.

Labels: blizzard, career, colorado, pants-free, snow, unemployment

Last night I took the wife up to Creekside Cellars for her 30th birthday. We sat in the wine cellar all up on the romance-ambiance tip as a marvelous spread of assorted meats, cheeses, olives and wines were laid before us. My old friend Tim runs the joint and we spent the evening killing glasses of wine and discussing the intricacies of wine production, basic chemistry, The Satanic Bible, high school shenanigans and String theory. The highlight of the evening came when Tim tapped a decade worth of wine barrels for us to sample with a turkey baster. If you are ever in downtown Evergreen, I recommend the place for a great night out (be sure to pick up a bottle of the 2003 Robusto. Trust me). If you play your cards right on a winter's night, you will even be able to play some drunken pond hockey on the lake afterwards.

Labels: birthday, colorado, drinking, l-i-v-i-n, wife, wine

I am elated that the 2006 election is over. No more badly designed junk mail rife with drop-shadowed text. No more hobbits with disheveled hair telling me that Washington is controlled by special interests. No more corrupt, draft-dodging dairy farmers waxing philosophical while riding their trusted steed. Speaking of horses, it seemed that every Colorado politician was equine-heavy in their television spots this year. If not riding one, then petting one or ambling in an open meadow teeming with them. Complete the clique: throw skis and a twelve pack of Coors on the horse's back and put Red Rocks Amphitheater in the background; because Colorado horses care about Colorado values.

The election has given Democrats the majority rule in the House of Representatives, State governorships (including here in Colorado) and more than likely, the Senate. Not surprising since Republican-controlled Washington has done nothing but subvert democracy, manufacture scandal and generally cock things up since they took over in '02. I just read that Bush is now open to ideas or suggestions on Iraq from the Democrats. Here is one from an Independent voter that likes boobs: get our troops the hell out of there. It will be fun to watch the Democrats screw it up for a change. Anyone out there want to take bets on when Ann Coulter will write a book on the evil Democratic takeover?

Labels: colorado, politics

The employment search has officially become stagnant. I just sent resume number 75 since Broz's Day of Liberation (September 12) and I am now seeing jobs that I applied to in early September repost on the job sites I troll daily like a ravenous jackal. With the oncoming holiday season, it is a likely possibility that I will not have procured gainful employment until the Christian New Year. This reality is crushing as I have the Colorado Pass and may have to spend the winter work week on powder-filled ski slopes while avoiding the weekend warrior, latte-swilling transplant yuppie in an overpriced SUV jamming up the I-70 corridor and harboring the delusion that they can ski expert terrain and the term "yield to the downhill skier" does not apply to them. I do have a few freelance gigs in the hopper that should keep the lights on and the wife and I off of dog food for the time being. Unemployment has me contemplating many things; geographic relocation, getting my masters degree in eMAD, attempting to make a committed run at the freelance thing, writing the great American novel and designing a fetish site with Russian women in casts. Of course, somebody has already beaten me to the fetish site.

Labels: colorado, unemployment

We get an average of two trick-or-treaters when Halloween is upon our town home complex. Last night we got one; a youngster dressed as Death who got himself a handful of snack-sized Skittles. Halloween is much changed since I donned a costume. Parents did not drive their kids to go trick-or-treating. If you wanted the big candy payoff, you earned it by braving the elements (it is always fifteen degrees colder on All Hallows Eve in Colorado) and walking until your feet bled. You would come home sniffling and collapse from exhaustion, not caring when your Dad stole the Snickers from your sack in the middle of the night. Town home and apartment complexes were like money in the bank for trick-or-treating back then. An orgy of corn syrup, chocolate, caramel and preservatives awaited for a kid who was willing to rip off "Trick or treat" in rapid-fire succession. I thought that with the burned out unit, we would at least get some middle-schoolers around here playing Ouija and worshiping the devil. Nothing. The Wife clicked the front porch light off at 10:15pm and died a little on the inside.

"Doesn't anyone want candy anymore, Matty?"
"I guess not, honey."
"Hold me."
"Indeed."

Labels: colorado, halloween, l-i-v-i-n, wife

A snowstorm is dumping a blanket of thick wetness across the Denver metro area today. I'm sitting in the warmth that is a firing furnace and blown out slippers, sucking down a tall mug of coffee that could strip paint, gazing out out the back door and watching vintage Ricardo Montalban Chrysler commercials. It's a good day to be alive and unemployed.

Labels: colorado, snow, tomfoolery, unemployment

Last night I watched the Avs home opener from a luxury suite at the Pepsi Center (the boys lost to the Stars 2-3 in OT). The old man, Jake, Nels and Aaron were also in attendance. My pops was responsible for the hook up as he procured the tickets through assorted work connections. The suite came equipped with a private bathroom, assorted domestic beers, food platters, period-by-period stat sheets and a computer with internet connection. Our luxurious time was surrounded by famous radio personalities with fake cans (Clear Channel suite next door), one drunk fan trying to start an "AVS RULE!" cheer (seats below us) and the now infamous silver bucket of happiness. The life of an unemployed artist is glamorous and fulfilling.

Labels: colorado, jake, sports, unemployment

The Chinese have opened the world's first anger bar. Patrons can smash glasses, rant and even hit specially trained employees all while sucking down Tsingtaos. Denver's version of the anger bar occurs every weekend during last call in LoDo. Drunken fools spill out into the streets simultaneously and start shit with each other because they were first in line for a $2 burrito being sold out of a cooler. Or because your fraternity is better than that other homo’s fraternity. Or because you were looking at a guy's shivering slut girlfriend in a mini-skirt, tube top and high heels and it's thirteen degrees below zero outside.

Labels: colorado, drinking, fighting, tomfoolery

Yesterday the future wife and I opted out of running the Bolder Boulder for the fourth straight year and instead went for a six-mile hike around Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Morrison, Colorado. The day was beautiful and it was good to wallow in our funk* outside for a change. Before we hit the trail, we ate breakfast burritos at the neighborhood coffee shop. I am proud to announce they held us together like steel for the duration. Click here to see photos from the trek.

* The future wife and I tend to not shower on the weekends unless we have a good reason. By the waning hours of Sunday (or in the case of holiday weekends, Monday) our home will smell like the monkey cages at the Denver Zoo.

Labels: activity, colorado, l-i-v-i-n, wife

The future wife and I got the hell out of town for an alpine sports adventure weekend in Summit County (click here for some hot Flickr action). After a six mile snowshoe hike on Friday, we celebrated St. Patrick's Day like an old-married couple; drinking two Kiltlifters and inhaling bacon-wrapped filet mignon at Pug Ryans then falling asleep before ten thirty watching reruns of Murder She Wrote. On Saturday we skied Breckenridge expecting spring break and weekend crowds only to be surprised by a dead resort due to local weather professionals prematurely calling for an immense spring storm. It is back to work in a few hours unless the city shuts down due to a blizzard (it could happen again, you know).

Labels: activity, bacon, colorado, snow, sports, wife

Me: I bought some new skis last night.
Monica: Oh, nice.
Me: Notice the urban graphics that will illustrate how much of a non-conformist I am while skiing. Because that is important.
Monica: Keeping it street on the slopes?
Me: Right. Represent.
Monica: Represent Arvada?
Me: "I am riding for the water tower today, bitches."
Monica: "This is for all the homeys that are working at the gas stations, getting their weed delivered to them that cannot enjoy the mountain today."
Me: "This bump run is for my boys that drink too much beer, still live at home with their parents and work at Randy's Pizza; sorry you did not make it, playas."

Labels: colorado, im convos, mons, sports

• Irony, party of one.
• Someone with property in the Colorado high country please help these girls out. They are looking for a place to crash over spring break holiday and appear to be responsible enough.
• This was sent to me today. Take a guess which heading(s) apply to me.

Labels: colorado, link goodness, politics

Across the Colorado front range today, the winds are blowing like a high school girl full of Boones Farm wine in the backseat of a used Chevy Beretta. I am watching the strong winds bend light posts and trees as tumbleweeds, dirt and debris are being strewn across the landscape with intense ferocity from my office window. The building is rattling and swaying and it feels like the windows are seconds away from blowing out. I have got my camera ready in case some shit blows over and madness ensues.

Fuck you, 90 mph winds.

Labels: colorado, wind

• Thailand is portraying imagery of bad teeth, tumors and death instead of verbal cues as warnings on cigarette packs.
• "Cool Mom" Silvia Johnson (reacquaint yourself with the saga here and here) is moving to scenic Canon City, Colorado for the next 30 years. With that haircut I think she'll fit right in.
• I did not know it was so easy to get Mormons to jump from moving cars. Any Latter Day Saints out there need a ride? (In all honesty, we probably would not make it to backing out of the driveway).

Labels: bad parents, colorado, death, link goodness, mormons, perversion, silvia johnson

Arvada, Colorado tax dollars hard at work. Are you enjoying your fancy steak dinners on my dime, cocksuckers? Feel free to contact the AURA Board of Commissioners to discuss this matter with them directly. I also urge you to ask Mr. Urban how his daughter got the nickname "Spices" when she was in high school.

Labels: a-town, colorado, corruption, politics

NC State runs a classy program. All I know is that if that Mexi-Cam business were pulled at Invesco Field At Mile High during a Denver Broncos home game, the stadium would probably be burnt to the ground.

A funny anecdote regarding the kissing cam: A few years ago I was in attendance at the Pepsi Center when the Colorado Avalanche took on the St. Louis Blues. In the second period, Joe Sakic fires a slap-shot that shatters the non-shatterproof glass behind the goalie. This causes a long delay in the game as the Pepsi Center crews work on cleaning the glass off the ice and installing a new panel. The Jumbo Tron begins entertaining the crowd with video clips, hockey highlights and the kissing cam. The segment drags on longer than normal due to the delay, and finally, it casts a parting shot of the St. Louis Blues bench; more specifically Keith Tkachuk and Barret Jackman. The players, engaged in a conversation, look up to see themselves on the Jumbo Tron kissing cam, smile and then lean into each other and kiss. For that brief moment in time, I actually liked Keith Tkachuk.

Labels: colorado, denver, hate, hockey, sports, tomfoolery

You may remember Silvia Johnson, the pride of Arvada's parenting community. After learning life altering lessons from her previous legal misadventures (read: giving teenage boys free dope and sucking them off), Silvia filled an SUV with adolescent children and gave the wheel to a young, unlicensed driver. Hijinks ensued.

Labels: a-town, bad parents, colorado, silvia johnson

• A recipe for backcountry disaster: sleep deprivation, painkillers, alcohol, an abscessed tooth and moonlight four-wheeling.
• This weekend there was a brawl at the Olive Garden that is within walking distance from of house.
• The Denver Broncos were the only NFL team to go undefeated in the 2005 Pre-Season which led to fans throwing around terms like "Solid all around" and "Championship contenders" before the season started. Enter this past Sunday. Now fans are throwing around terms like "It was too hot" and "It is just one game." Getting beat by the Kicking Mule and last year's NFL doormat is no way to start the season.

Labels: colorado, fighting, link goodness, sports

The United Keetoowah Band of Cherokee Indians says that Ward Churchill's (Colorado Univeristy Ethics Studies professor who compared World Trade Center victims to Nazi bureaucrat Adolf Eichmann) tribal membership is fraudulent. Is it me or does he look like Andy Warhol and Lou Reed's love child?

Labels: 9/11, colorado, politics, pop culture

Today Colorado was hit by a late season snowstorm. I am refusing to acknowledge this storm as a blizzard even though all the news stations are. The future wife was out running errands this morning and she reported that the roads were not bad (half of the stores she went to were open and the other half were closed; including the local coffee shop which meant that Daddy did not get his Sunday morning latte). I drove across town this afternoon to play in a hockey game and the roads were wet but mostly clear. The rink was closed due to the storm. Can you believe that shit? A hockey rink closed due to the snow? Sacrilege. This is not a blizzard. March 2003, now that was a blizzard. I was snowed in for two days and the power was out. Open up the coffee shops and the hockey rinks you goddamn tourists.

Fuck you, snowstorm that is not a blizzard.

Labels: blizzard, colorado, snow, wife

I took a brief hiatus from the MB to travel to Glenwood Springs and get engaged. I apologize that the site has been as barren as an old Hebrew woman's womb and I was unable to satisfy your lust for links about high school girls fighting and Whitney Houston entering rehab for the second time. On with the magical engagement story.

The now future wife was under the impression we would be enjoying a relaxing three-day holiday in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. She was unaware that I had been plotting for months to drop the engagement hammer on her during the trip. Thanks to my ninja-like discipline, I managed to keep the entire engagement process a secret and accomplished the following tasks without her knowledge:

• Shopping, purchasing and hiding the ring.
• Asking her parents for their blessing.
• Keeping the many individuals involved in Operation Engagement Hammer quiet and maintaining radio silence.

Operation Engagement Hammer began on March 23 as we set out for Glenwood early in the morning. Being as I was a nervous wreck and only had gotten a total of two hours sleep the night before I had to stop for a large colon-destroying latte to keep me going.

We made it to Glenwood in two and half hours and arrived at the historic Hotel Colorado, a place that has hosted the likes of Teddy Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, Al Capone and Patrick Swayze. Our check in time was at four o'clock, so we decided to hit the head and then hit one of the many snowshoe trails surrounding Sunlight Mountain (11 miles outside of Glenwood proper).

The weather was miserable; it was spitting rain, snow and hail and the sky was overcast. By the time we hit the trail head, I was a nervous wreck and the weather was set to ruin a component of Operation Engagement Hammer. I checked my pocket where the ring was for the umpteenth time and then I started freaking myself out. Did I remember to put the ring in the box before we left the house? Did I ever take the ring out of the box? Did I put on deodorant this morning?

Operation Engagement Hammer had to succeed. I have never been this happy with anyone. I knew from the beginning that my now future wife was the one. She understands that I am a perverted, beer-swilling bastard that enjoys pornography, hockey, books about war and depressing, soul-crushing documentaries on HBO about crack addicts in love (thanks for the referral on that one, Gary) and she is alright with it. In fact, in spite of all that, she still makes me muffins and is sweet to me.

The trail grew strenuous and the ring began weakening me like Frodo Baggins in Modor. After awhile, the clouds broke and the sun came out. I started looking for a good spot to implement the final phase of Operation Engagement Hammer. A voice that sounded like R. Lee Ermey started screaming in my head: "Quit playing grab-ass and do it now, soldier."

As I started questioning my sanity (my inner-monologue was shouting at me like an angry drill sergeant and I felt that was reason enough to evaluate things) the now future wife found the spot for me. "Look Matty! Look how beautiful the view is!" I look out to the where she was pointing and she was right. The view was amazing.

The sun was now unobstructed by clouds and the wind had stopped blowing. The moment of truth had arrived. I dropped to my knee, fumbled in my pocket and said, "Will you marry me?" The now future wife stood there, dumbstruck. She did not see it coming. Operation Engagement Hammer had achieved total surprise. It took her a few minutes of convincing that I was serious. "You can say yes anytime, honey," I said. The realization of the moment finally hit her and she started jumping around. "Yes, Matty! Yes!"

I do not remember much from the rest of the hike except for a wonderful feeling of euphoria. I know that she is the one I will be spending the rest of my life with and the fact this does not scare me nor keep me awake at nights is the reason why it is right. By the time we made it back to the car, the now future wife was more excited than a kid off of her Ritalin on Christmas morning. We spent the rest of our week in Glenwood relaxing in the hot springs, getting massages, visiting Doc Holliday's grave, walking hand-in-hand and generally being all stupid in love.

On our last night in Glenwood, I had a wonderful dream of her and I, many years from now, our eyesight failing, wearing adult diapers and bragging to each other about our new plastic hips and bowel movements but still very much in love.

During the two and half hour car ride home, I grinned ear-to-ear as she planned most of our wedding. Goddman, I love that girl.

Labels: colorado, engagement, l-i-v-i-n, perez, wife

Arvada, Colorado is the place where I grew up, attended school, played little league baseball, rode my bike to the swimming pool during the summer and went to Cub Scout meetings. It is also the place where I developed a penchant for whiskey, made a living on girls with low self-esteem and watched alcohol-fueled punks fight almost every weekend. It is the same place where Silvia Johnson, self-proclaimed "cool mom," just got busted for providing teenagers with drugs, booze and sexual favors.

Yeah. That is my hometown.

Labels: a-town, bad parents, childhood, colorado, drinking, drugs, silvia johnson

According to Men's Fitness Magazine, Houston is the most overweight city in the United States and Seattle is the healthiest. Colorado has two cities listed in the top five for the most fit: Colorado Springs (3) and Denver (5). We represent from a mile-high, America. On the other end of the spectrum is Texas, which has three cities ranking in the top ten for the most fat: Houston (1), Dallas (6) and San Antonio (10). It is called proper diet and exercise, you fucking whales. Stop eating so much Carl's Jr., get off your cousins and take a run around the neighborhood or something.

Labels: colorado, denver, health, rage

Today in Colorado, the wind is as strong as a three hundred pound bull dyke high on angel dust being chased by the police. Jake has volunteered his comments section for your best blowing metaphors. My lady's Dad (an engineer working on the Rocky Flats Closure Project) informed us that the site is on lock down and all work has been suspended indefinitely due to dangerous gusts that have shattered windows and made a general mess of things.

Labels: colorado, jake, wife, wind

In the midst of the NHL lockout, the Altitude Sports Network (carrier of Colorado Avalanche) has resorted to showing classic NHL games. Last night I watched Patrick Roy face a career high number of shots in a 2-2 tie versus the Toronto Maple Leafs in 1997. I think I have hit rock bottom. Next, I may be seen on an episode of Cops running down the street wearing nothing but a throwback Colorado Rockies jersey, drunk off Canadian Mist whiskey, fresh from smacking my lady around screaming, "It was not Claude's fault! Draper was skating with his fucking head down!"

Labels: colorado, hockey, wife

It all starts when the Boulder police department is called in to break up a large block party due to rampant underage drinking (a party in which the City of Boulder gave permits for). Party-goers become angry because their Constitutional right to free assembly has been violated. This is not the moment to think rationally. The time is nigh for angry mob justice. Tip over a car and light it on fire. Throw missiles at authority figures and drunken revelers. Get tazed, tear gassed and shot with rubber bullets. The next day, after being bailed out of jail by your parents, read a dissertation on the evening news about excessive police brutality.

Labels: boulder, college, colorado, drinking

Lately it seems like a fraternity in Colorado is more like a funeral home (CU and CSU). I think there should be a class in college called Drinking 101 that teaches kids the subtle nuances of alcohol consumption. Here a few topics that should to be on the syllabus:

• When you have lost feeling in your extremities and are blacking out, it is time to put the bottle of schnapps down.
• If you are a young, attractive female you should not drink nor hang out at a frat house. These places are havens for date rape, alcohol poisoning and disease. It would be much cleaner and safer to drink in a construction site port-o-potty with a used dildo.
• Under no circumstances should you participate in any shenanigans with somebody that has passed out; this especially includes placing your testicles on somebody's face and taking a picture. It is called karma and she is a cruel bitch.

Labels: college, colorado, death, drinking

Friday. It is my birthday so I take the day off. I wake up, make some scrambled eggs and bacon and watch Clash of the Titans on the digital cable. My sort of lady and I play nine holes of golf. My sort of lady gives me clothes and candles that smell like pumpkin musk. We crack a Michelob Ultra and toast to my 28th year. After killing three Michelob Ultras each, My sort of lady and I realize that Michelob Ultras go down very smooth. My sort of lady departs to get ready for birthday festivities at Old Chicago. Kaye, Aaron and Johnny Ballgame stop by to check out the town home improvements. We leave for the pub where I drink the night away with family and friends, consuming only two shots (thanks to Monica and an old high school friend Rachel). For the first time in three years of birthday celebrations, I do not wind up face down in some skeezy parking lot in downtown Denver dry heaving on a tree.

Saturday. My sort of lady and I drive to Redstone (20 miles outside of Glenwood Springs) to attend the wedding of a childhood friend she has not talked to in six months. I soon find out why my sort of lady does not talk to aforementioned friend (the term bourgeois princess comes to mind.) Together, we know a total of three people at the wedding. We sit at our table and drink ourselves half blind. I begin to spin yarns to the gullible and uppity wedding guests. My best story begins when someone at the table asks me, "How long have you and your wife been together?" I reply "Six long years," and then proceed to tell them how we met on the frozen sea ice of Antarctica where we were both studying botany and the psychoactive effects of blue-green algae on the human brain. I am sure to include my harrowing smack addiction and how my wife supported me through the dark times when I brought home filthy drug addicts to fuck and spike the vein with in our basement. I conclude the story with, "I am going to get a drink, anybody want one?" (I told you I am good at weddings.) My sort of lady and I dance. On the drive back to Denver, my sort of lady falls asleep somewhere near Glenwood Springs. She wakes up when I nudge her pulling into our town home complex. She stretches and proclaims, "That drive was so short." I drove three hours in solitude.

Sunday. My sort of lady and I go for an early morning run as a pre-emptive strike against the assault our digestive tracts will face during the birthday celebration at my parents house. We arrive at my folks shortly after one in the afternoon and are presented with heaping plates of food. On the menu is stuffed shells (shell pasta filled with ricotta cheese and covered in homemade spaghetti sauce) and peach pie. My sisters get me candles that smell like vanilla musk, a candle holder (I begin to think the women in my life called forth a candle conspiracy for my 28th year) and a gift certificate to Old Navy. My parents float me duckets and two books: Ortho's Home Improvement Encyclopedia and Techniques of the Great Masters of Art. We then head back to my sort of lady's house and I fix her screen door and hang some mirrors on her walls. I play in a late hockey game and receive my first ever game misconduct penalty (Mark recounts the event here). Much like Claude Lemieux after boarding Kris Draper in 1996 and destroying his face, I stand by the hit.

Labels: /mark, birthday, chili dog, colorado, drinking, hockey, johnny ballgame, kaye, mons, the fairways, weekend that was, wife

I have completed my home improvements for the summer and I have to say the place looks sexy as hell. My town home now dominates all other town homes. I know I promised awhile back I would post pictures from my recent backpacking trip and this time, I really mean it when I say they will be up later this week. I realize I am more of a cock tease than a panty-clad high school junior in the backseat of a 1984 Honda Accord, but I promise you will see my chiseled, mountain man ass climbing narrow, winding trails behind the backdrop of of Colorado fourteeners very soon.

Labels: colorado, l-i-v-i-n, the fairways

Colorado is currently buried under the biggest storm to hit the State in 20 years. Work has been canceled for the past two days. I have killed time reading, watching television, playing Tenchu: Wrath of Heaven and redesigning a website. Last night, I was in the midst of posting new material to the MB, and my power went out (thank you, expensive surge protector.) Sitting in the dark for a few hours, I realized two things:

1. I need to save working files on my computer more often.
2. Trapped in your house during a blizzard would be the best time to have diarrhea.

This morning I woke up, made a delicious plate of eggs and bacon and dug myself out. I started with my patio, which had been buried the night before (I shoveled this area off three times the day before). Next, I cleared the snow from behind my garage so I could back my car out. Finally, I made a path from my front door to the walkway. My neighborhood is a winter wonderland and it is still snowing.

Labels: blizzard, colorado, snow

Last night, in midst of an early winter storm, it took me three and a half hours to drive home from Boulder. This drive, mind you, is normally 20 minutes. Apparently, Boulder uses an environmentally friendly alternative to road salt that does nothing to ice when the temperature is below a certain level. The roads out of Boulder were like a hockey rink. During this period of time, I was a seething cauldron of anger. When I got home I wrote this. Enjoy.

The Catholic Church may provide a consequence free environment for pedophiles but it condemns tea bagging. I cannot believe kids get in so much trouble for this nowadays. In the locker room during my high school sporting career, tea bagging was nothing compared to guys pissing on you in the shower or sneaking up behind you and covering your face with a protective cup dripping in ball sweat.

Labels: colorado, glory days,