Thank you

Here’s to you Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. I’ve blogged and bragged about you for years. From when I bought your CD for $5 in ’05, when you silly stringed the Wild Buff in B’ham, and when yes, Mr. Haggerty, you jumped into the crowd and knocked me out, but I’ll blame my PBR tallboy. You give the crowd something to believe in, you bring fans to your shows who throw their Nikes in a fist pump rage and remember what it’s like being one not for a mosh pit, but for a cause. Your words mean something to everyone. We Seattle people watch you fly the coop and cross our fingers you won’t pull a Sonic, but better yet, take over the world and use us as a base camp. For success, failure, love, and support, we will always be there. Thank you guys for making songs with humor, seriousness, and of course amazing cuts. Forever, Sharkface gang.

gang.

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Lists on lists on lists

The lister: One who makes lists at the attempt to be productive / feel good.

Personally I put big ass boxes by my “to dos” and give myself little rewards and add things like: Treat yo self to an iced coffee, because you’re awesome. Or, Online shop for that workout top you probably can’t afford. Check and check, two things already taken care of, accomplishments in small feats.

After 3 weeks of kids camps, I’ve got a rainbow of paint around my face and plenty of almost expired cheese sticks and warm juice boxes in my backback- it’s time to get a workout in, listen to dirty south hip hop and some dubstep and get back on track. This whole workout plan mind you is 3 days post a half marathon so no running quite yet, instead I get on the elliptical that takes more brain power than body to stay on…only shark week will keep me gelled to this machine. BUT, I did however find a useful tool…

I pull my phone out and open the “notes” tab and title it “What I Want” and in the slew of much-needed feel good endorphins this is the list that came to:

Run 4x a week – Bike Outside – Yoga – Whiten my teeth (yuup noted) – At home spa day, drink champagne and catch up on magazines – Find 10ks – Make Coffee at home – listen to music in the shower – move my speakers to the bathroom (train of thought lister) – blog – remind yourself you’re going to be a kick ass teacher – go camping – swim – eat more burgers – SUP – write more lists – dock jump – hang out with my mom – use my camera and edit photos

So clearly it’s not a be all bucket list, or really any big goals but hey, it’s a start to finding something more balanced. I took this sporadic note to self as looking at things in perspective of what can I write down that I can check off realistically right now.

Missing Salpal more than ever as she bungee jumps and lives a truly once in a lifetime experience in Africa. Give a baboon a spank on the butt for me.

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Music Hiatus

I’ve got to admit, I’m rusty these days. A new apartment, full time job, and yes…the SUN in the northwest has driven me away from scouring the web for new music that came out within the hour. Scamming off the neighbor’s internet and having it work only 50% of the time hasn’t helped either. But here’s what I have been listening to most lately, Macklemore and RL came out with a great song and music video a couple of weeks ago that went viral, recapping their road to underground hiphop fame, not so much underground though eh? BA$$Y Remix made a decent spin from Bon Iver’s Holocene, and Brazilian Girls “Good Time” has been helping me get out of bed every morning (props Mr. Farwell on this gem)

What to look forward to: more photos, my new kitten, drunken adventures, sober adventures, music, the usual

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Salamander-SalPal-Squid, here’s to you

In lieu of it being your birthday month and all, and since my pure poetry to Meghan still makes me chuckle. I thought I’d send a little something your way. But the question is… where do I begin Miss Salamander? I mean, we could start with how I read Green Eggs and Ham to you a million goddamn times, and yes the book was upside down the entire time, but I had that sucker memorized. Or how about when I cackled like an evil possessed child, cupping the sprinkler and convincing you to come closer, and closer. To be honest, that was you just being dumb…who walks over repeatedly to a conniving, deranged sister only to get sprinklered in the face each time?!

But to redeem myself from my evil ways I did scoop out that little turd surprise you left for us in the tub. You sat there, looking so hopeless, desperate to get the remnants out (WHY did we not just get out of the tub?), you pointed, shocked, but alas I remained calm cool and collected and Heismaned my naked butt over your little ringlit head to dive down in one fell swoop with my bath bucket to collect it and save you. I triumphantly held the clear bucket up full with clowdy bath water and the little culprit. Yes, everyone, Sally poops.

And I think we were so closely bonded as sisters that you may not have actually said the words “Yucky, mean, and nasty” to me at the ripe age of 1, But it may have been just one telepathic stare off that did it. Just saying…this shouldn’t be ruled out.

Let’s see if you remember this one. You and I shared rooms for way too goddamn long, I swear. Do you remember when I woke you up in the middle of the night and we took the Costco bottle of Flinstone Vitamins and hid behind the living room couch and played “house” and ate every last fucking one of those? At 3 in the morning?! I get queasy just thinking about that colored chalk turning to paste in our mouths.

Or how about that time when I pushed your knees to your chest and you farted. Yes- I said it. And it was the funniest thing I had ever heard. My eyes widened with my moment of opportunity and your vulnerability—you were laughing so hard yet so embarrassed, and I just kept pushing your knees down. Yes, everyone, Sally farts.

And I don’t know who told you that if you hold hands with the person you’re sleeping next to you share the same dream, but I can only imagine the sight of us, me eighteen, you sixteen, in sleeping bags by the Christmas tree, attempting to hold hands. This lasted oh, five minutes before you whimpered that my hands were too boney- and then we waited for mom and dad to try to be super sneaky with their way-too-old-to-be-camping-out-for-Santa daughters.

Oh and then we look at the college years. Where I may have been a bit too ridiculous for your taste, but you managed. Where you watched as I broke Styrofoam coolers and we fist pumped at parties, and I would whip up a mean tofu scramble with mango salsa and spinach. We would have these random parties at my house and we would end up barricaded in my room because our inside jokes and quirky-ness and beer hiding underneath my bed as some secret hobbit stash was way cooler than whatever was going on out in the living room. Our invention of cappa cappa cola lives on, and hot chocolate with schnapps and Baileys is the standard when watching movies.

Sorry for stealing lots of your clothes- take it as a compliment.

Hello Sexy Pants

 

Thought I’d send you a little catch up email since I miss you terribly! Let’s see..my hair is getting long, awesome. I lost 12 pounds on this “Biggest Winner Ultimate Thinner” challenge the Club I work at put together, dad lost 30 POUNDS!!!! He looks tiny, so proud of him, and I am hung over, fucking typical. We have this staff party tonight at the Garage up on capitol hill and lord knows I’m about to get my drunk on. Can we talk about how we both have boyfriends?! What the hell, who knew, I thought we’d just grow old together chucking eggs at each other’s houses and drinking gin and tonics on our front porches swearing at kids. Well, we’re probably still going to be doing just that, but there might be men to hold us back when we threaten to beat little shits with our walkers.

Instead of catching up, I’d like to reminisce a bit, because let’s be honest, we have some amazing, pee your pants its so funny stories, that are probably only funny to us but who cares:

Remember when I came to visit you in Berkeley and the first night I dumped beer on your frumpy mop of hair after we won in beer pong? Or when you put a fat sombrero on my head and made me drink 151 and then I chucked my stupid ass phone at Jigga George the cat code name BO JANGLES! Or how about when I woke up and honestly believed there was a hunched backed Mexican with a pistol staring at me when it really was the fucking cat litter and that goddamn sombrero, and no…you didn’t tell me to turn on the light, you told me to turn on the Leg. Or when I slept in your roommates bed and I couldn’t find the door to get out for a mid sleep pee, so I hoisted the biggest mirror in the world off of the wall thinking there was some goddamn witch and the wardrobe curse on me and I knocked and knocked trying to wake your snoring ass up.

Lets take this back even further to when mom asked us to water the lawn so we made vodka lemonades and brought lawn chairs out to the front, turned on the sprinkler, and drank ourselves silly while watering the already dead grass. Or how about that same day when we couldn’t find you, only to see you googly eyed with vino in hand in the hot tub- BY YOURSELF!

Jumping forward to my 23rd birthday where we got our “chef” on, raiding the Island and City with our crazy duo. AGAIN, I cannot find you because alas you went off to probably suck on a bottle of red to your lonesome and when I asked you where you’d been you gave me the most honest answer anyone has ever given me, “Oh you know, here…there…here” I didn’t even question it. Oh and let’s not forget that I woke up half in the kitchen half in the living room and almost chest bumped Greg’s roommate at 6am.

Okay, moving backwards now…way backwards, remember when you went off roading on your Schwinn? And by offroading we mean you went up a hill and almost popped a wheely while we biked to our usual Tacobell/Coffee Bean/TCBY date, and lets not forget the jelly bean raid, buttered popcorn jelly beans for life. Or how about when I slapped you so hard with a DVD sign when we spotted Bobby Schubert, your gay Brooklyn lover in a Blockbuster, I wonder what that crazy kid is up to now.
And let’s just bring this elephant out of the closet, we made home videos for English class- me about camping, you about water polo. And I will never, ever forget your rendition to Joan Jett’s I Love Rock and Roll. I had to literally think about the title just now because I Love Water Polo was the only thing that came to me. And stupid Jenna, that perfectionist, with her little strut while we ran around throwing raw hotdogs at each other and eating oreos with an old camcorder. I guess while it’s all coming out, I should say I’m sorry for giving you a black eye, but hey for the record- I did strap you with pillows and a helmet before I chucked lacrosse balls at you, convincing you it was helping me become a better player. And who said there were rules in tomato wars?! Those dumb bitches were just too dumb and bitchy to think about stuffing their tomatoes with rocks like we did. Yes Mook- we were tomato terrorists. And when they ceased fire we just said fuck it and started throwing them at ourselves- classy broads we are. I guess since word vomit is the name of the game let’s also lay down the fact that we watched a Knights Tale and danced and danced and danced, and then watched Brittany Spears in Crosseroads at 3am. And I have to just say this, I did hear Charlie pissing in the house, I just couldn’t get enough of you thinking you were the only one listening to that flood gate of a pee while I fake snored on the couch. (I’m laughing so hard I’m crying right now…by myself, in my office, picturing your sleepy bug eyes yelling ‘JANE, CHARLIE IS PEEING IN THE HOUSE!’) Also the fact that you called that 6 foot ginger monster mormon Katherine a bitch was the best thing ever- I supported it 100%. And the fact that we will forever know that 4:45 means a steamroll is pure beauty- I think I’m going to get that tattooed, and you know I aint lying.

Oh the good old days, 8th grade…where SSR was really code for writing hilarious notes to each other and getting kicked out of class. And when throwing our food at each other was way better than eating it. And playing hand ball really meant, let’s watch Meghan fucking boot this ball over the 3 story gym wall and not even play because you fucking put our ball on the roof.

And Rich Corso would wrap your grilled cheese in tin foil and I would get a perfectly stapled brown bag lunch with flowers drawn all over it. I knew we’d be best friends when you pulled out your sister’s underwear from your coat pocket and waved it around like a flag (or maybe I was the one that did that) – better yet I knew we’d be old hags together when you pulled out a goddamn tv remote from your binder and then proceeded to laugh saying, I wonder if I’m fucking with my dad, while clicking all the buttons. But let’s be honest, when I saw you looking like a homeless woman with a broken backpack and a torn brown grocery bag full of your school supplies I knew we were a match made for absolute craziness and mayhem. And even though you fell on your ass post pasta war, you still defended me, and even though you let those boys put me in the trash can, with the lid on, I held my beer up proud and you helped me out of the cest pool. Lord baby jesus Love us.

 

Miss you Mook like you don’t even know. Stay Gold you crazy fuck.

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