So much to think about.  It make me thristy.

I'm Sorry Buddy - It will NEVER happen again.

Well I stood up, briskly walked to the freezer, and opened the door.  To my absolute delight, laying there in its non-descriptive white wrapper,  was my precious fudgesicle.  I gently grabbed the treat, stroked it lovingly, whispered sweet nothing into its chilly exterior: “Don’t worry little buddy, soon it will all be over.”  Then I realized that my odd fondling and hot breath was melting it at a mind boggling pace.  Quickly I unwrapped it, started to consume it, and headed back to my desk.  Unfortunately for me (and the fudgesicle) I am a direct descendant of swine and it was 3/4 of the way finished by the time a reach my destination.  This couldn’t have been more than a 10 – 15 second tops, distance.  I’m pretty pathetic.  Oh yeah, and I just typed 312 words discussing a me and a fudgesicle.  Wow.

On a moderately more exciting note, this Monday is the bowling championships for the Monday Night Football league at the Back Bowl in Eagle. “Ohhhhh, how exciting” you may be saying sarcastically, but to you I say “What exciting thing do you have to look forward to on a Monday?”  Nothing.  That’s what I thought.  Now, back to my bitchin’ story.

So this Monday, our team OP7 will be battling Elite Limo for the esteemed crown of bowling champion.  Many have compared it to with the NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship, but I think that might be a slight strech.  I think it is closer to winning the Super Bowl. Look for us to star in MasterCard commercial with Peyton Manning in the next few months. Or, if you see me or a teammate around town, drop us a Big Lebowski quote.

"I see you rolled your way into the semis. Dios mios man."

Let’s roll.

March Madness is the time I throw at least 50 bones away to mediocre brackets and score squares.  It is also the time Dave routinely throws 150 bones away in an auction that in my opinion, might be worse odds than playing KENO.  Every year I get a little edgy with my banker and tell him that for once, would he stop throwing our money away at this terrible concept.  But then, in his sneaky, all knowing ways, he prods me to imagine what would happen if the ONE year he didn’t participate and his group won, how would that make him feel?  Well, last year I was determined to put my foot down and I all but pleaded for him to keep our $150 smackers safely in the bank.  He defied me….jerk.  And then he comes home to tell me they got Kansas.  Frickin’ Jayhawks.   Calm down Jayhawks fans (and I know too many of you), I know you teach your children to say Rock Chalk Jayhawks before they say mommy and daddy and really, who am I to judge?  Cricky, I get tears in my eyes just imagining my little bundle of joy (or misery) making his first “Quack”.  But in recent memories, I have seen your team lose 1st round to Bradley and Bucknell.  Two points to any reader who knows what city and state BOTH of those teams reside in.

Sooooo, what happened?  Memphis decides to put a can over the hoop when they are shooting free throws AND decides not to foul with a 3 point lead and seconds on the clock, only to have the Jayhawks send it into OT and ultimately land some bones in my pocket.  And to think, that could have been the year we didn’t throw our money away…….

Rock Chalk Freaky Miracle

….damn you Dave.

Well, as I am sure you can guess, the next few weeks are full of monitoring games on my computer, highlighters, brackets and endless sports analysis.  Throw in a chocolate donut and a case of beer, and I am just about as happy as I am ever going to be in life.  Ever.

Ohhh, that song from the movie The Girl Next Door is on the radio at work.  If you have never seen the movie, then I suggest you watch it.  Hilarious if you ask me.  And trust me, I am one of those people who don’t really like going to the movies. It is the movie with Elisha Cuthbert, who likes to date hockey guys and who Dave finds to be really dreamy.  Check it out:

Does the curtain match the drapes?

Wow, that was really off subject.  I can’t believe I just posted a hot girl on my blog.  I must really be secure with myself….or just like looking in a mirror (joke……total joke people…I am way hotter than Elisha…..right?).

Well, I must complete my brackets and dream of beer and basketball.  Speaking of, I would like to give a shout out to my big bro, Lance.  Wait this is my blog, so I WILL give a shout to to my big bro.  His basketball team, the Willamette Wolverines, went undefeated in regular season play and won the Oregon 5A Girl’s State Championship a little over a week ago. I was stoked when Fox Sports Northwest (thank god we finally get the Fox Sports channels) actually broadcast the game on tv. Many of the girls are heading to the next level and I couldn’t be happier for him and his team.

Happy Brackets!

Well doves, I gotta say 2009 has be nothing short of spectacular for the beaver of ski.  First, before the New Year rang in, which by the way, was quite sad if you watched any of Dick Clark.  The facial makeup, the dyed hair, the slurred speech, it made me uncomfortable.    It reminded me of Britney’s VMA performace 2 years ago……hard to watch, hard to look away.  BUT, I am not here to talk of sad things.  I am here to brag about my year.  Crap, that is why I started this blog anyway…..so bored people at work would read about my craptacular life.

Yikes! Don't look directly at the TV.

Anyway, before 2009 could kick me in the knee, the Quack Attack prevailed in arguably (well, I wouldn’t argue with it, but I am sure some SEC fans would) one of the most exciting college football games of the bowl season.  We looked like stank ass mixing in a blender in the first quarter, but luckily our defense helped keep the game close going into the half.  Then, the Ducks lit it up in the second half, including our QB running into and over the defense and one of the sweetest runs of the season.  Then, to cap it off, the Pac 10 won all 5 of their bowl games.  I spent the next several days scouring the message boards listening to the various spins of why the PAC 10 won and Alabama lost to Utah. I’ll tell you why….because Utah was a better team.  The scary thing is our out of conference schedule for the 09-10 season is Boise State, Purdue and Utah.  Ugg.  Not even one gimme.  Kudos for scheduling all D1 schools though…..kudos.

How's the view?

So, then came along the year of the ox.  I felt like this year would be different, you know, with the exception to the recession, job loss, trillion dollar deficit, Obamamania.  Well, this first big thing on the agenda for Ms. Skibeaver was LASIK.  When I met Dave 9 years ago, I really had two purposes in mind to squeeze out of him:  a shiney scooter and LASIK.  As it has been well documented, I scored the scooter at the end of ’07, so I was stunned when I was able to pull the double-double and land the LASIK in the early stages of ’09.    But low and behold, the roofies worked and Dave agreed to the expense.  He made me sign a contract to not leave him after I saw what he actually looks like, but I have my attorneys working out that little detail.

So, while I was enjoying the laser light show involved in fixing my eyes, Dave went off to conquer another big feat for the household…..he purchased a MacBook.  Thank god!  Now, I swore I would blog more if I could sit on my ass in the living room, guzzling bottles of wine while watching 30 Rock and bond with you, the reader.  But….. so far I having been doing it all of the above EXCEPT blogging, but instead rocking the Facebook scrabble.  Man, scrabble rocks……oh, be right back…..I gots to play a word.

ZOOS.  36 points.   Not bad….not a bad word at all……

My final accomplishment for early 2009 is by far the most surprising.  If you have read any of my previous posts, I always ramble and wax philosophies about whether or not it would be worth it to lose 10 lbs and generally try to look better.  I always thought it was a pipe dream and did not think I had the desire or will power to pull it off.  Well, mostly thanks to Dave and his desire to drop to 175, I pulled off the miracle.  I now officially weigh about what I did in high school.  I would say I shaved off a good 9 lbs, which 6 weeks ago I would have deemed ridiculous.  Granted, I still have an ass that won’t quit, but what are you going to do about that, eh?  I am still stunned.  No jokes here ladies, I am actually pretty dang proud.  What DID suck was giving up booze for 10 days.  That, my friends, is stupid and will never be done again.

Well, I didn’t mean to get you all jealous of my ginormous accomplishments. Wow, see, now I feel bad.  Ok, I have to make this up to you.  Hummm, what can I do.  (Stares at ceiling, thinks about Tuaca….gets thirsty…takes a shot) I know!  Have you been just racking your brain about what to get that special valentine in your life?  Or, do you rarely buy gifts, but think that this year maybe you should for your one true love?  Or, are you single, and are just tired of your farts stinking up the car?  Well then do I have just the answer for you.  Do what I did, I pick yourself up one of these:

Flatulence Filter.....Finally!

Yes, it is a fart cushion.  You can pick one up at gasbgon.com.  I just gave one to Dave last night, because we have a new car and it is only a matter of time before it smells of moist ski gear and farts.  I got him the one with the baseball motif, because I figured his balls could then be on his balls.  Catchy, huh?

I will leave you with this video for the weekend.  I think we can all relate:

Perhaps another reason I am now in a good mood is  I am done shopping for food in Walmart until after Christmas.  Now you may say, “yeah yeah, it can get crowded.”  However, I dare any one of you, the reader, to step foot in the Walmart here in Vail between the days of December 21st and December 31st, and not find yourself in the belt section, contemplating if the rafters could hold your frantic, 10lb heavier from the holiday cookie eating body.  It is indescribable how utterly insane that place goes the minute the second home owners and tourists show up.  I have witnessed grown women crying in the isles, being consoled by their children.  It is not a place for the faint of heart.

I am also in a good mood because as I type, I have a brand new shiney snowblower in the back of my ride.  Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, gather around to witness the beauty that is Dave, by himself blowing snow into the street while I sit inside my warm home, at the window watching, with a glass of Van Duzer Pinot Noir in one hand, a foam finger pronouncing Dave as #1 in the other and a wickedly large smile on my face. Some dream big……I dream bigger……..

"Keep drinking honey, I've got this all taken care of!"

(By the way, if that thing breaks down at any point during the winter, my tears may act as an acceptable substitute to salting the driveway)

I am a little stressed about one thing and I won’t know the outcome until late day December 30th.  You  see, it is my beloved Ducks.  You may not know, but they are in the Holiday Bowl in beautiful San Diego (that means Whales Vagina, in case you were privy) and they are facing a solid Big 12 team, Oklahoma State.  It has been an interesting year for the Quackers and I have often referred to them as a “mediocre” football team.  I am only one of 14% of bowl pool entrants in my local pool to have picked them to win. Even my own husband took Oklahoma State (but Illinois didn’t even make a bowl, so I will forgive him as this little pool would be his only great victory).  But I have seen signs of greatness and I am hoping for a repeat performance of last year’s bowl, when most people thought we were dead in the ditch after the loss of Dennis Dixon (now I am sad again) and we whopped the shit out of South Florida.   I fond this little montage my brother introduced me to brings me great hope of an upcoming victory:

The run down the sideline by J.J. is incredible.

BTW, if you are looking for a bandwagon NFL team to jump on since the Broncos are bipolar and the Bears are the Bears, may I suggest the Carolina Panthers? I have to admit, I didn’t pay much attention to them until about 5 years ago when my buddy Darden introduced me to the Cardiac Cat call. Even then, I paid attention, but loosly rooted for them.  I didn’t love them, I didn’t hate them.  I was forced to cheer for the Bears (and Sexy Rexy, minus the sexy part), but I find it to be like rooting for the Cubs-unrewarding and full of dispair.  Would it kill the Bears to draft a QB?

Well, then two things happen.  First, the Panthers drafted Jonathan Stewart.  He is my second favorite Jonathan Stewart, behind you know who:

Vanilla Love

Chocolate Love

Are they not both beautiful?  Does it not make you hungry for a soft-swirl fro-yo cone?

Secondly, Dave placed a 50:1 odds bet in Vegas last spring that the Panthers would win the Super Bowl.  50:1. (Brook reflects for a moment) That could really buy me some solid temporary happiness…….or at least a bitchin’ decal for my scooter next spring.

Well friends, enjoy the holiday and enjoy the bowl games.  We are sticking around here for the holidays and look forward to some solid skiing.  If I can leave you will one holiday gift, it is this: Remember, when life hands you lemons, drop them in your vodka.

My charity never ends.

So last Saturday, a bunch of us hit the slopes for the first time this season.  I knew it would be a 2 hour, 3 tops kinda day because, well, I am out of shape and don’t have the mentality to tough it out for more than that.  We had our friend Mike and his buddy up from Denver, so I felt confident those fools wouldn’t last any longer than me.  Plus, we all like beer and that is located at the bottom of the mountain.  Who am I to question gravity?

We hit up the Bully and got nice and saucy for 3 or 4 hours (noticeably longer than we skied).  Even though I routinely question the service policies at the Bully (ie-you have to order and stand AT the bar in order to receive happy hour prices despite the fact that your friend has a 2 year old with them and needs a table in order to keep them calm and occupied AND you are a very frequent customer), I just can’t give up the Dunkel beer and delicious, alcohol fueled Mudslides.  We laughed, we cried and we paid our bill.  My buzz was in full effect, strong enough to thwart off the cold temps mommy nature was throwing our way.

I was bummed when I heard we were heading to the Red Lion.  It sounded crowded, smelly and uncomfortable.  BUT, sometimes when you roll with a group, you gotta roll with a group, ya  here?  I had a momentary flashback of the last time I entered to Red Lion.  Oh wait, scratch that, they wouldn’t let us in the Red Lion.  Now you would think if a group of attractive, drunk-in-a- good-way girls (this author clearly excluded) showed up at a bar in August in Vail, which is not exactly the busiest time of year, we would be greeted with open arms and a free shot or two.  But were we?  Oh, quite the contrary.  It had something to do with the six foot tall inflatable penis we were dragging along for Diana’s bachelorette party…..the good old Captain Pecker Party Wrecker.  Apparently this novelty wasn’t something the Red Lion was interested in having in their bar……shit, this is the Red Lion, not a Debutant Ball.

Is this too big?

That’s ok, we got back them by stabbing unsuspecting patrons in the back with Captain Pecker through the windows.  Don’t try to hold back a drunk bachelorette party…..we are too ingenious.

So, back to last Saturday.  I decide to be a better person for once, not complain and head to the Red Lion.  Yes, it was crowded and yes I felt uncomfortable.  But hey, I was with friends, having a good time.  That was until, one of these most ridiculous bar rules was forced upon our table.  I am warning you, you may want to grab a paper bag and sit down because this bullshit will either make you hyperventilate or throw up.  Maybe both, who knows.

Around 8 pm, an inaudible announcement was made over the microphone, which of course we all ignored because none of us had any interest in the 80s tunes that are constantly belted out at this place.  Then, as few minutes later our waitress, who I might add was a good waitress and very pleasant, so I in no way hold her responsible for what she was instructed to come tell us.  Since it was one of the most ridiculous policies ever uttered, we made her repeat it:

“You guys are going to have to leave by 9 o’clock, because no ski gear is allowed in here after 9.  You can change and come back if you want”

What.

The.

Fuck.

I’m sorry, is this not a SKI TOWN we live in and is your biggest industry not SKI TOURISM?  You are telling me, with a straight face, that since I am wearing ski pants after 9 pm, I am no longer allowed to stay and purchase beverage and food that adds to your bottom line?  You are telling me that despite the fact that you haven’t dropped an effing dime into this place and the music played is still from the 80s, my good friends can’t stay to give your waitstaff an even bigger tip?  Wait wait wait…..are you saying to me that even though both the men’s and women’s restrooms only have one light working in each of them AND the men’s restroom floor is covered in an inch of urine, my buddy’s ski boots are totally unacceptable?

Needless to say, I didn’t want to spend on more second in there.  I told Dave I would meet him at Vendetta’s because I was hungry and I was fairly confident Vendetta’s would let me in, even if I was wearing ski pants AND holding a giant inflatable penis.  Dave was happily staying at the Red Lion until they tossed him out.  Spoiler Alert:  They promptly tossed Dave out at 9 pm.  As I left, I witnessed two guys trying to come grab a beer and get turned away at the door for wearing ski pants.  This guy was clearly a tourist and was clearly as pissed off as I was.

So, Red Lion, why this ricockulous rule?  You give me a good reason and we will talk.  Otherwise, good luck with the business……I will never step foot in your establishment again.

Later Dumbasses

It seems like every year around Thanksgiving, my pants get tighter. I got dressed this morning and stood in my closet for at least 5 minutes trying to figure out what wouldn’t make me look like someone stuffed a bunch of jumbo marshmallows in denim and realized that I couldn’t justify wearing my black silky lounge pants to work. However I find they are perfectly acceptable for wearing to the bar, to a funeral, to a potluck, to a Chip n Dales viewing (animated or adult oriented) and to charity events. I believe wearing them to work might be a stretch (no pun intended). So I tugged on my jeans, put on my boots, looked in the mirror and sobbed like a tween at a Jonas Borther’s concert. Wait, that is a terrible analogy…..those tweens are crying tears of joy, I was crying tears of rotten chubbiness.

I tell ya, I have been trying to eat better, really. Dave made a couple of comments about my food choices over the last few months. Now before your corner Dave in a dark alley and start reciting the vows of Scientology as punishment, please note the guy is concerned about my cholesterol, not my body image. My cholesterol sits about has high as Hiedi Montag’s SAT score: 278. Not a stat that I am proud off. Side Note: A stat I am proud of: High Women’s Average Bowler for our Monday Night Football Bowling League, 5 years in a row……..If it smells like awesome and looks like awesome, it is pretty much awesome.

I ditched the Lipitor a few years back because A) It still didn’t get me below the 200 and B) I was getting leg pains. I feel confident about the decision, but I think I might have gone a little lax in the monitoring what I eat department. I have been trying to eat less cheese, fatty and fried foods and red meat. The meat part might be a little easier since I walked in on my boss skinning or gutting or something to some birds he killed this weekend while hunting. Let me ask you, the reader, is this something you can fear walking in on at your work? I am PRETTY SURE this incident carries a .00008% of probability. It was disgusting and I fear night terrors coming on in tonight’s slumber.

Anyhow, I guess I haven’t been doing too good of job, because look and feel like a pasty white tootsie roll, with the wrapper hanging on for dear life. Some things just can’t be helped. I was born with the body of a bowler, I guess.

Otherwise, life rolls on. Dave and I are jamming out to Phoenix for Turkey Day. I am looking forward to some pool time and some mash potatoes. Mashies have to be one of my top 3 favorite side dishes. Sometimes, when Dave is out of town, I like to throw down some instant mash potatoes for dinner. And this is my entire dinner…..just a big old bowl of sweet, beautiful, yummy and easy-as-making-a-joke-out-of-the-word-caulk mash potatoes. Personally, I am a fan of the Idahoan, more precisely the Roasted Garlic. Their website calls them the industry leader in the instant mash potato market. I gotta think that this industry is doing pretty good in this shitty economy. Note to self, call my broker and BUY Idahoan stock, pronto.

God mashies, you are a delicious beast

Homemade in 4 minutes….sounds like sweet sweet heaven in a bag.

Well, time is a ticking and I have a plane to catch.  Think of poor Gobbles when you are eating the bird this Thanksgiving:

Gobbles?

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

• Political Mudslinging
• Dangers of food, drink, gas station fill ups, etc.
• Missing People
• Statements from celebrities and news commentators
• Free stuff from retailers

Please do not send it to me prior to checking the validity of the forward at snopes.com. I am truely not passionate about much in life…in fact, what is there? Let’s see, there is Duck sports and burritos, but those are so painfully obvious. Here is one that might come as a surprise to you…..Paul Rudd. I can’t get enough. I mean, I felt something stir inside of me at my first screening of Clueless, but I thought it was just the insane amount of Sour Patch Kids I ate that night. Then I saw him in Anchorman and I thought “Holy crap, I think Brian Fontana is an excellent name for our first born.” I knew he would make my laminated “5 famous people I am allowed to sleep with” list when I saw Knocked Up and although he looked slightly manorexic, I couldn’t stop wondering if we met say, at a bar one night, would he find me funny AND good looking enough to take home? I am pretty sure the answer is a firm “NO”, but a girl can dream, right? Man, can you imagine how excited I was the other night when he was the guest on The Daily Show, hosted by you know who? I just kinda bounced up and down on my bed and rubbed my hands together uncontrollably , like Wheel of Fortune had just called my SPIN ID number. Wow, it is truly shocking I was taken off the market as young as I was……….what a catch.

Zexy Brian Fontana

But I digress. I feel that as a frequent user of the internet, it is my duty to inform others of snopes.com. I am seriously tired of reading bullshit. If I wanted to do that, I would read a fiction book, and we know my attention span won’t allow for that. I can barely focus on completing my shower each morning. If you do not have the time to check our snopes.com, here are a few of the most common pieces of lying crap floating around my inbox from time to time:

~ Plastic in the Microwave won’t kill you.

~ Ashley Flores is not missing.

~ Call a number will not take you off of a Do Not Call list for cell phone solicitors.

~ A teacher does not want you to add your name for a children’s school project.

~ Mountain Dew will not shrink your testicles.

The list goes on and on. Please, just stop sending me this. I do however, thoroughly enjoy hilarious forwards and encourage such to be emailed.

Well, I am short on time, but I feel with old man winter recently slapping his fridged balls against my face, I should have plenty more time to enlighten you, the reader, on exceptionally unimportant things occuring in my little bubble of a world. How lucky are you?

I have found this clip from The Soup to be rather enjoyable and has consequently skewed my thoughts on Britney’s new song “Womanizer” for the better. Dig it!

I’m kinda bummed that the weather is already dipping in the upper 30s at night.  This year the summer in Vail really was NOT awesome.  It snowed into June, was a hot droughty mess in July, rained the better part of August, and now it is super Fall-like.  Riding the Buddy to work in the morning is creating a bitter internal conflict.  While I love the ride home in the evening, low 40s in the morning have me second guessing if it is worth the runny nose, extra layers and hand warmers.  I know, I know, wah wah wah for me.  I bitch and complain and beg for 3 years for a scooter and now I have one and am fickle when it comes to the weather.  Lay of me….I am fragile!

Anyway, we were in Connecticut for the opening weekend of college football and sitting in a foreign bar in New Haven, watching some dumbass Florida fan cheer like a hyena when Florida scored their 7 TD of the game on a hopeless and Brennan-less Hawaii team pissed me off and made me ecstatic at the same time.  Words like “douchebag” and “dicktard” came to mind, but I realized that that is what I love.  I love to be angered by fans of teams I can’t stand, from conferences who think (and tell me, over and over) they are the shit EACH AND EVERY YEAR (I am looking at you SEC) and by bars that can’t figure out their Gameplan packages.  I love to sit on my ass, stare at three different games that I have no tie to, root for some upsets, call friends like Darden when ECU beats a ranked opponent (who knew I would become a fan of the butt Pirates?) and drink hoppy beverages.  I love it.

Duck This!

But, you know what I don’t love?  Week 2 crappy lineup.  Sure, there will be some upsets today and peeps will talk about teams like ECU breaking into the top 25, but have you seen the lines for today’s games?  I haven’t seen that many double digits since my college wardrobe size.  It sucks.  The line for Ohio State/ Ohio matchup (applaudes again to OSU for a “challenging” OOC schedule….) moved from 37 to 33 most likely due to Beanie in a boot, but really….33 points?  And my beloved Ducks (pause for a moment of elation, reflection and pouring one out for my homies) are taking on what some analysists consider to be the worst team in D1 football, Utah State.  Please Ducks, please do not make this an interesting game and just take care of business early.  I have so few tears left for you and I am pretty confident this game is not going to be televised, gameplan or no gameplan.  I don’t think these weak preseason lineups do anything for the sport and quite frankly, they push me to, gulp, find something to do outside on a Saturday.  Yikes!

Golly gee, I am out of it today.  It might have been the 6 beers, shot of Tuaca, and the franternizing with Peter Foresberg that took place at E-Town last night.  By “fraternizing” and mean watching from a distance, texting my friends and pretending to be uninterested in his whereabouts.  What I want to know is at what stage in life do you either become an celebrity autograph/ photo seeker or the person who pretends they don’t care and wants the person to have their personal space? I am strongly the latter.  Many people aren’t.  Is there a weird gene or something that decides that?  I can’t think of one celeb I would break that rule for.  Oops, scratch that…..Jon Stewart and Paul Rudd.  Paul Rudd is super dreamy (I accidentally wrote the word “creamy” instead of “dreamy”, which I found quite hilarious.  I gotta get out more often.)

I’m off like a prom dress…..have a good one!