What's the haps, broseph?

Fun fact: I heard someone say just that a few minutes ago. A grown-man, I might add. Wooooof.

I know I haven't been around these parts in a while, but it's because I've been learning one very important universal truth: having a life is exhausting.

Case in point, I spent Saturday night out at a "club" filled with "people my own age" and had a jolly good time. Whoops, that last one doesn't fit with the hip kid vernacular. I had a bomb ass, hip to the mother effing Twitter Facebook time of the Apple Bottom Jeans. That's all the cool terms I could think of.

As a result of spending the evening doing what every 21-year-old in the world does every weekend, I spent all of Sunday out of commission. I did nothing but eat Chinese food, sleep and watch old episodes of "The Office".

The past few days have been busy. My summer school classes are slowly sucking the soul (and a few hundred bucks for books) out of me, work is insane in the membrane and I have been a social butterfly with friends, family and an awesome, potentially meaningful boy situation.

So, because it's rare for me to be both upbeat and eloquent at the same time, here is a list of things I am currently grateful for. Here we go.

1.) Saturday nights. Listen, all the best stories happen on Saturday nights. Lampshades get put on heads, alcohol is consumed, laughably bad decisions are made and dancing is had. Saturday night is the night of the week every other weekday is jealous of. Do you think that anyone is hooking up with a guy who looks like Geraldo Rivera on a Wednesday or eating tacos from a hut on the side of the road on a Monday? Pashaw.

Saturday night marked an important evening. My pals Deezy and Papa J officially ended their time as roommates and my friend Thurber is in town for a few days before moving to Portland. Having a trifecta of friends in town, I decided it was only necessary to take them out and get them all drunk. So, Saturday night, our group headed to one of my favorite bars for a night of drinking and debauchery. It was a blast. I have some pics that I'll put up later, but let's just say the night ended with a few new acquired phone numbers, drunken rambling, smokey hair and tacos at 3 in the morning. Verdict: success.

2.) Baby Miles. M and Garland are six months along and I get more and more excited every time I see them. M and Garland are like pioneers; my own personal Magellan into the cloudy waters of adulthood. They've handled everything beautifully so far and it makes me happy to know that, in three months, they'll have a son to add to their family. And I'll have a nephew who I already want to buy everything for. Because the baby is a boy, poor M has had to endure this question over and over:

KV: If I bought you and the baby matching hats/glasses/shoes/bowler shirts, would you wear them at the same time?

The answer every time: a shrug and a "sure". That's all I'm asking for.

3.) Laughter. Alright, before you roll your eyes and vomit on me because I just listed "laughter" as something I'm grateful for (what is this, Chicken Soup for the Cheesy Ass Soul?!), hear me out. I have laughed harder and more frequently in the past week than I have in a while. I've been hanging out with a new boy and he has me in stitches non-stop. Red is fine tuning his own sassy brand of humor with hilarious results. Even Simon, that smelly tan dog of ours, has been cracking me up. I laugh a lot as it is, but this past week has been out of control. If I keep it up, I'm pretty sure I can get abs of steel just through the magic of laughter. Suck it, P90X.

What's the opposite of 'buzzkill'?

Buzz-revival? Buzz-zombie? Buzz-survival?

Whatever it is, that is what's happening over on my side of the computer. Nothing has been able to kill my buzz. I'm happy these days. There's no real reason to be, I just am. Happiness is a bit of a double-edged sword for me. It's awesome because I wake up with the intent to accomplish things, like wearing clothes with buttons instead of elastic or seeing the light of day. I feel joy when I see my friends and family and don't have the sudden and overwhelming urge to cry and drink a lot.

The part I'm not so comfortable with is my creative juices stop flowing. Happiness is the Hoover Dam of my brain; it's cool because, hey, look, a dam used for hydroelectric power! but sucks because it blocks the water from doing it's natural, flowy thing. In this example, my brain juices are the water. Does that make sense? It if doesn't, blame happiness. It makes my similes suck.

In fact, y'know what, here's a list of things that are currently making me happy. So when I'm not around as much and when I write lame blog posts, you know what to blame.

I am happy because...

• People think I'm awesome. Have you ever had one of those days where you wake up, look at yourself in the mirror and think, "Why the hell does anyone like me?" I feel like this most days. I don't really understand why someone would go out of their way to hang out with me, let alone a whole group of people.
  

This photo proves that I was cool looking at least once in my life. So, y'know, score one for me.

I don't think I'll ever get it. So I'm trying something new. I'm saying a general "fuck it" and just rolling with it. Which leads me to my next point...

• New friends are fantastic. Once I started implementing my "screw it, I must really be rad if people keep wanting to talk to me" policy, things kind of started falling into place. I haven't been interested in making new friends until recently. Something very interesting has been happening in my group: everyone is a pair. There have been several occasions where I look up from my plate/salad/sake bomb only to find that I'm the only person around without a significant other. The 7th wheel. It's cool because I like everyone in the group, but it can get a little awkward when it's New Years Eve and there's nobody to make out with except a drunk cowboy. I need more single friends. Where all the drunk singles at?! Oh yeah, everywhere.

• I can shop in normal girl stores now. Many of you know my journey to become the Incredible Shrinking Girl, some don't. So here's a quick game of catch up. I used to be the biggest size at the big girl store. That's like being the fattest elephant at the zoo. An accomplishment in and of itself. but not really one you write home to mom about. I didn't have a light bulb moment or whatever the hell it is Oprah talks about, I just didn't want to have to start shopping in the extra-big girl/tent store. So, I changed some things and I can shop in normal girl stores now. I'm the biggest size at the normal girl store, but I'll take being the biggest monkey at the zoo over the biggest elephant.

That's all I can put a name to right now. As evidenced by the zoo bit up there, my brain is not helping me out today. I'm on my own which, today, is pretty okay with me.

I'll take "update" for $400.

Ugh. My cell phone is dead, I owe money to the Tax Man and I spent all weekend Facebook stalking old crushes and watching movies that were made before Y2K.

But, y'know, I can't complain. Things have been looking up in more ways than one, excluding the aforementioned cluster fuck of yuck. I've made new friends, I'm close to hitting a long awaited goal and I'm preparing for a re-match with the grandest of canyons. Don't worry kiddos, more about that tomorrow.

In the meantime, I'm going to bang my cellphone against the brick wall in my room in hopes that it'll shock it back to life. Nothing wakes up dead technology like blunt force trauma.*

*Scientific study still required.

Never Too Late for 2008

It's only 5 days into 2009 and I don't think it's too late for a holiday update. Even though the holidays are so 2008. Well guess what? I don't follow the general principal of time. I make my own time. That was one of my resolutions in 2009, to make my own time. So now that it's 17:0x o'clock, it's time for a semi-late to the party 2008 in review.

Holiday 1: Christmas

Christmas was amazing...amazingly cold! When it snows in New Mexico, Mother Nature doesn't mess around. She's like, "You stole my land and, y'know what, eff that. Eat snow, ya bastards!" It was freezing. I stepped off the plane and looked a lot like this:


You better believe I was NOT doing lunges. It was so cold, I'm not even positive I could feel my legs.

But I'll tell you something: nothing gets rid of the coldies then some chili. If it's one thing New Mexico knows, it's chili. I had chili with posole, chili with tamales, and I can't be sure, but I may have chased a shot of tequila with a spoonful of yummy, delicious chili. My eating plan went to hell in a handbasket (full of chili).

The highlight of the trip was when my parents took us to Santa Fe. They went to college there and just wanted to show us around. Santa Fe is awesome. It has all these galleries everywhere and everything smells like, well, you know.*

However, if there's one gripe I have with New Mexico, it's the fact that we saw these creepy bronze statues hangin' around. Some were kids, some were animals, and a couple were bears. Now let me say this-- bears scare the shit out of me. I am terrified of them. I don't like statues, paintings or any other sort of bear replicas, but I'm not afraid of them. I'm uncomfortable around them because of what they represent: 600lbs of rage covered in fur. Bears will rip your face off and eat your legs all because you just so happened to walk within 200 feet of their cubs. I didn't see your name written on this forest, you selfish ass bear. It's not like you can outrun them either. They're freakishly fast for being fatties. You can't out climb them or out swim them either because, oh yeah, THEY'RE FREAKISHLY FAST FOR BEING SUCH FATTY McFATTERSONS. It's astonishing and really quite terrifying.

Of course, my family was thoroughly amused and fascinated by these statues. So much so, there was posing involved.









And then this happened:

Family: Look, KV, a bear! Go stand by it.
KV: No.
Family: C'mon! It's not a real bear.
KV: I hate it anyway.
Family: Go on. Pretend like you're punching it in the head.
KV: What?! No.
Family: C'mon. We'll take a picture and it'll be funny.
KV:...Fine.




Holiday 2: New Years Eve and New Years Day
Since this was the first year I was legally able to go out and make a fool of myself, I decided to take advantage. And take advantage I did!


Myself, Garland and Cris, Garland's sister


Cousin Noodle and her gentleman friend


Cris, her fiance B, Beezy and her boyfriend R.A.


Noodle was not impressed with my booth dancing. She must not have been using her eyes.


M and Garland


Who likes to rock the party? I like to rock the party!

Now, dear reader, I'd like to tell you about the songs I danced to and the jokes I told. But honestly, I don't remember a lot of the night. I suffered from a common ailment called "selective memory" or what some people like to ruin and call "blacking out". Here's what I do recall. Dancing was involved, as was alcohol and sequins. Bad decisions and laughing were also involved, the latter mostly being at my expense. But y'know what? I had a blast. Not just a regular blast, but a rocket flying, bomb exploding blast. If there's one thing I regret, it's drunk dialing everyone in my phonebook, including Directory Assistance. Oh Directory Assistance, you always take my calls.


Holiday 3: 1st Wedding of 2009
Alright, I realize this isn't a real holiday. But this is my blog and I'll write about what I please! This past Saturday, my cousin Bride got married. I love going to family parties because my family is awesome and on most occasions, alcohol is served. After spending most of New Years Day cuddled in bed watching The Office and my new copy of Rocky Balboa, I vowed that I would stay away from the liquor. Then I heard about this magical place at the wedding reception called "Open Bar". Oh, and what a magical place it was. I had fairy sparkled drinks like prickly pear magaritas, Washington Sour Apples, tequila shots, Negra Modelos, Fat Tires, sips of dirty martinis and the most delicious/disgusting shot called a peanut butter and jelly.

An after effect of hanging out Open Bar was my dancing abilities improved ten fold. I put Tina Turner to shame the way I rolled down the river on that dance floor. This was your dance area? Sorry, I own it now. Oh, what? You're going to play "Cotton Eyed Joe" in an attempt to get all the brown people to clear the area? Psych! You didn't realize I knew how to throw my hat into a ho down. It was amazing.


The always awesome lady cousins.


Nothing beats being fancy and drinking.


Me and Mama D


The scary ones, Poppa D and Armando


The lookers in the family.


The end of 2008 turned out to be a whirlwind of fun. I had so much fun with my friends and family. I am choosing to believe that all the fun I've had in the past few weeks is an indicator of what 2009 is and should be.

So, here's to 2009. It's going to be fine.**


*Hint: CHILI.
**Another one of my resolutions is to rhyme more. I think it's working out really well so far.

Dirty Christmas

Today, Garland and I took a drive to the mall so I could finish up my Christmas shopping. All was going well, then this happened:

Me: I hate it when people are too southwestern. I get that you like it here, but enough with the kokopellis already.
Garland: What about boot tassles?
Me (confused): Boob tassles?!
Garland: Yes, boob tassles. Except they're southwestern so they're bolero tie boob tassles. And in the middle are kokopellis.
Me: That would be so heavy! It'd make your boobs sag so much that National Geographic would have to film you.
Garland: Like a really dirty native tribe. The Inaprop-Hopis.

After that conversation, the day went from a good day to an AMAZING day. It was the first day I actually felt in the Christmas spirit. After I dropped Holly off I drove home with the windows down and let the wind whip across my face. I looked at the sky and thought, "Good one," to whoever was listening.

Good one, indeed.

I Hate Cute

I have something to admit that I feel like my gender frowns upon: I dislike cute animals. Well, maybe dislike is too strong of a word. I don't fawn over cats dancing or puppies wedged into small spaces. That dramatic chipmunk thing just freaked me out. When introduced to the Cute Overload site, it suddenly became the new bane of my existance. (Also I'm too lazy to insert the link so you're going to have to look it up yourself. It's way too much cute in one place, which has the opposite effect and just makes me angry.)

But today as I was going through my gossip web site line up, I found the cutest mother effing video. Ever. I watched it twice and giggled throughout the entire thing.



You loved it.

I'll show you some Steps of Knowledge

Whew, another Halloween down the pipeline! Verdict: success. As promised, here's what I looked like as a Blue Barracuda.



Blue Barracuda was the best team from Legends of the Hidden Temple. Everyone knows it. So much so, that during our bar hopping we ran into another Blue Barracuda. Who knew so many former LOTHT fans liked to discover their very own Temple of Vodka on a Friday night.

The rest of the group looked great. Don't believe me? Don't be silly. Check 'em out.


M dressed up as Period Pants and Garland was an 80s fitness instructor.


Garland's sister and her fiance.


Deezy rockin' the no pants look from Risky Business.


When I tried on the Risky Business glasses, it looked like I was blind. And have carpal tunnel. So pretty much exactly what I was going for.


The ladies.

I have to be honest, most of the ladies we saw looked scandalous. Deezy was not the only one showin' off the risky business. Just by wearing jeans and a t-shirt, I felt way overdressed. We saw a couple girls wearing only underwear and corsets and one girl who was just in a bra and a small piece of fabric trying to masquerade itself as a skirt. Ladies, I realize Halloween is code for "vaginas dress like sluts". I get it and I've made peace with it. I'll even go so far as to say that some of the slutty fire fighters, slutty policewomen, slutty Dorothys and even that one slutty witch looked alright. But c'mon, wearing your underwear and putting animal ears on is just lazy. You aren't even trying. I mean, at least the slutty (insert job here) had some sort of idea what they wanted to be, even if they got it terribly, inappropriately wrong. Ladies, we're better than that. We're much more creative than that. And if you're not, then at least don't let the drunken Tin Man in the corner touch your yellow brick road. It's just ooky.

Hope you all had a good Halloween! Now onto November.

Hot Damn

I'm telling you, it's like I woke up this morning covered in sunshine. And instead of stress and insecurity, I'm surrounded by puppies and rainbows and cake. I'm talking like the most adorable puppies you've ever seen playing on a rainbow made out of cake. It's been a super splendid morning and there's absolutely no reason for it.

I also would like to point out that I think I have a new celeb crush.



Ladies and gents, Mr. Ben Foster. You may have seen his adorable face covered up with yuck in 30 Days of Night or wearing chaps in 3:10 to Yuma.

For those of you concerned, my fake husband Clive Owen is still around. But he's okay with Ben Foster being in the picture now. Clive is confident like that.

Guess who does have buns of steel...?

Just got back from seeing Burn After Reading. That movie is great fun, although I'm still not 100% on what it's actually about. But Uncle Malkovich was in it. And do you know what Uncle Malkovich was doing in the movie? Guess. Go ahead, I'll give you a moment.

GILAD!! Uncle Malkovich had scenes where he was exercising to my favorite 90s workout guru. There's one scene (in the background but it still counts) where he is doing MY EXACT SAME WORKOUT TAPE. I almost peed. I highly recommend that everyone see this because a.) The Coen Brothers are involved so you're guaranteed to say "what the eff?!" at least a few times and b.) You can see the wonder that is Gilad in action.

So, in conclusion: Uncle Malkovich cemented my love for him and even the Coen Brothers recognize the big ball of spandex that is Gilad. $6 well spent, my friends, $6 well spent.