A Yoga Coffee Outlook

AN AMERICAN PASTRY CHEF IN PARIS…

WRITER’S NOTE: This is not “Why I won’t Leave New York, Part II AN AMERICAN PASTRY CHEF IN PARIS…(which, many people don’t know, was the original title and concept of the Gene Kelly movie. But early on, during the table reads, he (and as we know now, quite brilliantly) suggested that they drop the “pastry chef” from the title and then also not make it about a pastry chef. “I think it will have a broader appeal”, Gene was quoted as saying)

OKAY, back to being serious…SO, you sent your kid away to study hard to become a successful, world-renowned pastry chef. He made it through the boot-camp of a program, landed a job right out of the gate at Chez Dessert in Paris. THE Chez Dessert. He’s been there a few years, speaks the language, has even bag(uette)-ed himself a sassy French woman with Moulin Rouge roots and some sort of castle in the countryside.

You’ve visited him a couple times, he’s the only American that everyone in France loves. Le Flavour of France. And YOU…you, you, yes you…you’re proud that he made it big and left Kansas in the dustbowl, the way you never could. And face it -- that vivacious vicarious life which you’re now leading needs to be constantly fed like the tape-worm that it is, right? …

Okay, so THEN, one day, your son calls back to Salina, interrupting your immersion in “JAG” … “I’m coming home to run the Dairy Queen.” “But…but…son…sure the Blizzards aren’t as rich as they used to be, but that’s only because they started using store brand Oreos (Food-Town-eos)…mmm-hmm…of course the community would benefit incredibly but—it’s WINTER! The DQ’s boarded up, for God’s sake -- what’s that you say? …You’re sick of the fast lane…you’re feeling your life has a higher purpose…you’ve already made a filthy amount of money…could have five times as much space for what you’re paying in rent…generally sick of the constant struggle…want to give something back???

ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND!!! (Sure dad’s dropped the “f” bomb a couple times, but now MOM!??) Look – not for nothin’ but that culinary college wasn’t exactly CHEAP, you know…no, of course not, and that’s…I…you…SON, you’ve earned this. Just because you’re on cruise control there, jettin’ through the upper echelon, not feelin’ the rush of acceleration like that first year of bakin’ fancy tarts or “torts” or whatever the fuck (mom’s really lost it now) those unsatisfying half-a-serving Tasty-Cake wannabe gelatinous excuses for a desert you “create” are…just because of everything I just said (go back and review if you need to), you can’t quit now!!! SUCK IT UP!!! (She never said that either) That’s right, SUCK IT UP, PUSSY!!! (Now I’m going to puke) So you’re a little bored. Welcome to LIFE. PLOW ON. Like in the bible. They’re always plowin’ or sewin’ or doing some arduous task that ain’t fun.

We didn’t raise a God Damn gelding, did we? Wait – let me ask your father, “he had balls, right?” (Dad, from the TV room) “Yes dear, they were there the last time I checked. (He was “kidding” but there was that time or two during the night when the future pastry chef was fourteen…he slept through it, no harm done) but I’m in the middle of “JAG.” Tell the chicken-shit I said listen to his mother the way I never should’ve…(under his breath so that mom can’t hear) I think I know who stole his balls.” (Mom didn’t hear) “

So you see, son, your dad says stay the course so that you don’t end up being like his fat marshmallow ass, stuck to the Barca Lounger for the rest of your life.” (Dad in the other room, who’s not deaf, again under his breath) “Honey, I’m glad I banged your sister before she died.” (Again mom didn’t hear) (But she knew) (And don’t think she didn’t have her share of revenge “sweaty-animalistic-slammed-up-against-the-wall-of-the-Motel 6-by-your-younger-handsomer-foreman” type trysts, either…)

(Back to the son in France) “Mom? You and daddy have always been there for me. Like a rock. You stayed together when everyone else’s parents were getting divorced. Because you guys had faith. FAITH…in each other…the sanctity of marriage…hell, in STAYING THE COURSE. You’ve convinced me. I’m never coming back to fuckin’ (he liked this new side of his mom) Kansas. Sionara, suckers! …um…I’ll call you next week. (click…dial tone…)

EPILOGUE: (Mom knew her son was simultaneously right and wrong…she had made him who he was. In fact, it was this and perhaps the greater paradox of life in general that probably caused her, like De Niro in at least three of his films, to viciously (maybe it was some sort of bizarrely manifested elation) slam the phone into the cradle, repeatedly, the bell (they still had a phone with a real bell) ringing in a contorted, carnival-esque way, the bakelite casing a mess of splinters…just then, daddy, who has snuck up from behind, surprise-slams Mommy up against the new Sub-Zero, takes her like, well, her sister and once again consummates their thirty-five year functioning train-wreck of a union…CHUGA chuga CHUGA chuga…) “who’s your foreman, now, sis…” (panting) “I love you.” (more panting) “I love you too… (Sweaty sighs all around, then a bit of primping) …Now let’s go catch that funny last moment of Jag where he says something “witty” and they freeze-frame it. Credits roll.
WRITER’S NOTE: Or is it…?

A Stupid Cow Has to Be Better Then This!

Oh boy, looks like I decided to crash at Kelly's place at the wrong time. Didn't realize that Porn Wars was going on here. I thought I heard something about Star Wars and felt it would be cool to crash and watch the movie. Oh well.

Looks like I'm outta here. But I'm perplexed over something I happened to see here...

As I was packing up my bones, I happened to notice that the door to Kelly's bedroom was opened so of course, I had to peek in.

Whoa, as you can see from this photo I took, she sure has a lotta porn mags saved. They are even all organized and on shelves according to....oops, never mind, better not go there.

Well, I guess it's back to The Chronicles for me. Does anyone know if cows snore?

Kelly, Are You Home?

Kelly, there's some stupid Cow staying at The Chronicles and I've been kicked out of my room.

S0 do you think it's possible I can stay at your place for a few days? I'm really quiet, house trained and I give great back massages.

What do you think? Can I? Can I? Can I? Pleeeease! Hey, did you say something about porn?

Girls, Duck, And Red Velvet

Every month my girlfriends and I get together for a little fun. Tonight was my turn to host. I am a decent cook even if I do say so myself. But because I just got back, I hired a caterer to handle the food. I however handled the wine. We always drink wine. Many of the girls in this group are also in my bunko group. Bunko night is reserved for crazy drinks... like the horrible vanilla martini's I mentioned a couple of months ago. But girls night is always wine.

There's something about getting drunk on wine that is different from other drunkenness. Maybe it's the slow and steady absorption or something about the tannins in the wine. But I think it has a different feel. I've only been sick from drinking wine twice.

The first time was when I was 20 drinking white zinfindel in the VIP room at the Roxbury. My friend Yvonne and I quit our jobs in Colorado and spent a couple of weeks raising hell in LA doing our best Thelma and Louise. I was pretty naive, hence the white zin. The only reason I mention that we were in the VIP room is because we could have ordered anything we wanted, any premium, any champagne, and what did we order? White zin. I was so terribly drunk. I remember standing at valet and I couldn't focus. As every car pulled up I remember saying in very slurred speech, drunkgirl speech actually, "izat arr caaa?, izat arrr caaa?, izat arrr caaa?" Don't worry I was not driving. I should also mention that my drunken clubhopping days ended when I turned 21 and was actually old enough to drink.

The other time was at my friend Lisa's 30th birthday party. There is a club here called Stallions. It's not a male stripper revue. It's actually an old Bahama Breeze that was turned into a supper club. It's a decent place, the only problem is that it doesn't know what it wants to be. It has a sports bar, dim lit fine dining restaurant, dance floor/stage area, and a fire pit lounge where we spent most of our time. My mistake, I think, was ordering wine by the glass because I ordered a pinot noir. I'm guessing that not many people order a pinot noir by the glass. It's a fairly sophisticated taste and I think maybe the bottle expired. Whatever the case I was sick all night long. Actually I had a spa day scheduled at the Tall Grass the following morning. After vomiting all night, err morning, I was totally dehydrated. Having a herbal detox wrap was the worst kind of hangover treatment.

Ahhhh good times... Maybe not.

Tonight was however good times. We ate duck quesadillas with a spicy chutney. A warm goat cheese dip with plantain chips, and spicy pork meatballs. The meatballs were awesome they were flavored with cinnamon. I will not say who, but I did see someone drop a meatball on the floor, pick it up and eat it. If this wasn't enough we finished it off with a little red velvet cake.

I'm stuffed. I think it's time I rolled off to bed.

Oh BTW, I changed the questions in my guestbook, just to have a little fun with it. Please stop in there and sign in. :)

The Lucky Blog Post

Congratulations! Lady Fortune has selected you to read this Lucky Blog Post™, and your life will never be the same.

"What nonsense," you might say. That was the attitude of 92-year-old Joseph Myers, a retiree at the Frisky Acres Managed Living Center in Naples, Florida. According to an official report filed at Frisky Acres, Myers read the Lucky Blog Post™ on the evening of November 16, 2005. But rather than taking immediate action, Myers retired for the night with his companion, a Tampa-based "senior comfort specialist" named Xanadu. He was found dead in his bed the next morning.

Coincidence? The National Safety Council would disagree. At 92 years of age, Joseph Myers lived approximately 33,603 days. That places the odds of him dying on the particular night of 16 November, 2006 -- the very evening he chose to ignore the Lucky Blog Post™ -- at an astonishing 33,603 to 1.

To put this in perspective, the NSC estimates the chance of the average American dying in a transportation accident at 1 in 77. Your odds of dying as the result of a fall is 1 in 229. The likelihood of death from something as unusual an "event of undetermined intent" is only 1 in 771.

Government-sponsored science demonstrates the danger of ignoring this Lucky Blog Post™.

In a moment, you'll be instructed how to avoid this risk. But first, let's take a look at some of the amazing fortune which has visited those who took advantage of the opportunity you are now being presented.

B.S. of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, was an ambitious young singer with big dreams, but no prospects of success. She was among the first to receive the Lucky Blog Post™, and responded within hours. Today, she's one of the best-known names in pop music.

Despite being born into a famous and wealthy family, G.W.B. of Houston, Texas, coasted aimlessly from one failed business enterprise to another. That was before he responded to the Lucky Blog Post™. He went on to be elected governor, and is now the president of the most powerful nation in the world.

K.B. of Denver, Colorado, wondered how to bring more traffic to her online enterprise. Then she received the Lucky Blog Post™. Her Google rankings exploded, and she's now regarded as one of the most influential young women on the internet.

Now the choice is yours -- how will you respond to Lucky Blog Post™?

Having decided to pursue Lady Fortune's graces, you must do the following within 24 hours:

If you are a blogger ... copy the Lucky Blog Post™ in its entirety. Add your weblog address to the bottom of the list below in the form of a hyperlink, and post the otherwise unedited article to your site under the title "The Lucky Blog Post."

If you are not a blogger ... you can still receive the full benefit of the Lucky Blog Post™ by bookmarking it using one or more of the following services: Digg, del.icio.us, Netscape, or Furl.

It is possible to multiply your fortune by finding other ways of bringing the Lucky Blog Post™ to public attention. You should not, however, email the Lucky Blog Post™ in any form. Doing so will displease Lady Fortune.

May the Lucky Blog Post™ bring you uncountable blessings.

The list:

The Lucky Blog Post
Mountains and Rivers
Blogmandu
A Yoga Coffee Outlook

Kelly is a Rebel With a Cause (or two)

I'm back and can't believe I missed all that German beer in Kelly's fridge! But 4 cases of it? Wow! And to think I thought it was just apple juice. Go figure.

And after reading what Kelly was up to this past weekend I guess I shoulda knew she'd have tons of beer stashed in the back of her fridge behind the 10 gallons of milk. Seems our innocent yoga loving gal is a bit of a rebel. Bad gurl! Bad!

Now, where is all that chocolate I know she has hidden around here?

Let's See What's in the Fridge

Quiet, it's only me, Billy Boy. Please don't make a sound!

I thought  I'd sneak in while Kelly's asleep and raid the fridge. I'm soooo starving. Okay, lets see what she has in there.

Hmmm...what do we have here? Um, is this sushi? Or is this an apple? Ah nutz, I give up. Wait...wait...what's this I think I see?

Whaaaaat? No beer? Noooooooo! Oh crimey, looks like I'd better go on a beer run before she wakes up. Remember, you saw nutin. 

It's Party Time!

Woohoo! Kelly's gone and I have the whole place to myself. It sure seems like a nice place. It even smells nice too.

Hmmm...I wonder if she'd mind if I had a party? Just a few friends. Maybe some beer. Hey, maybe I can even bring out the Twister game.

It's nice to get away from The Chronicles for a change. I think I will stay here awhile and see what kind of trouble I can get into. Now let's see, where does Kelly keep her undies!

Seriously though, thank you Kelly for allowing little ole' me, Billy Boy, to guest blog at your place while you're away. I just hope I don't scare everyone away!

Picture Day

This morning I got up at 4:30 to have my photo taken for the website. I'm accustom to getting up early, but getting up early and trying to look nice isn't as easy as it use to be. Luckily for me, my friend Sheri is a very talented photographer and deserves every bit of the credit if I manage to come out looking alright. She clicked away for about three hours so hopefully there's a good one in there somewhere.

All of the photos were shot in Downtown Denver neighborhoods. It was sort of a walk down memory lane for me. In high school I never belonged to one group, I sort of bounced around trying to find the right group for me, but I guess I never did.

One of the locations was an old coffee shop, Paris on the Platte. This was one of my hangouts long before the area was gentrified. Also before Starbucks, and before drinking coffee was cool. Pretty much the alternative crowd hung out here. Musicians, artists, writers and those who wanted to be. The attached bookstore is long gone replaced by a wine bar. Truth be told I drink more wine than read books, so I'm okay with it. It was fun being there and I think I'll go back soon.

We also went to the 13th and Pearl Street area in Capitol Hill. Another old haunt from my Betty days. It's pretty much crack central now but I guess it was then too. There were two shops here Wax Trax and Imi Jimi where I spent all of my milk money.

Wax Trax was.. and probably still is the place to buy vinyl. I have boxes of 12" imports that were purchased from here, mostly punk and industrial stuff. It's an old skool sort of place, a music lovers paradise. I wouldn't wander in here looking for that old NKOTB album if you know what I mean. It's still here..

It looks like Imi Jimi just moved out of the neighborhood. Back in the day.. (feeling old).. Imi Jimi was pretty much "the" urban Skate Shop. Several of my friends were sponsored by IJ, so we spent a ton of time here loitering. Bad things went down in in 1993, it was called "the summer of violence". That year, the owner of Imi Jimi, Tom, and his wife Christina were attacked. Tom was murdered. Christina continued to run the shop until a couple of years ago. :( Sad thinking about that again.