Wednesday, December 28, 2011

I'm Gonna Rock Your U-verse

Special K's proudest moment this Christmas? 
When I unwrapped this...


ME:  Um...  I don't get it.
Special K:  (beaming so big I thought his face would split right in two so help me) You hafta guess!
ME:  (sighing) It's a cord.  You got me a cord.
Special K: Nope!  Guess again!  (still beaming)
ME:  Television cords!  OMG you got me a flatscreen!!  AAHHHH!!!
Special K: (wincing)  Ah no.  What are those?  What can you use them for?
ME:  Extension cords?  We're extending my laptop to the flatscreen? Inneresting.
Special KKeep guessing.
ME:  Speaker cords?  You got me a stereo?
Special K:  (sighing) No.  Not a stereo, Jesus.  Keep guessing.
ME:  Are you serious?  You want to keep playing this reindeer game?  Ugh.
Special K:  (teeth gritted) Just do it.  Guess.  What are they?
ME:  I. Don't. Know.  It's just a cable to something.  I don't f**king know.
Special K:  (beaming once again) YEEES!  It's a cable! 

I felt like I was in a scene from Coming to America:  Yes!  It's a cable!  Isn't it nice?!

ME:  Wha?
Special K:  Cable.  Caaaaaaaabllllllllllle.  (Eyes ready to pop out of his lovely head.)
ME:  A cable.  You got me a cable?
Special K:  He was willing me to figure this out by boring his eyes into my skull.  I got you cable.  Cable. 
ME:  (with renewed enthusiasm) You got me cable?  Like movie stuff  cable?  Like ditching the rabbit ears and watching The Daily Show not on a laptop cable?
Special K:  (smugly) Yep. AT&T U-verse gets here on Tuesday.

So I guess it must be Tuesday (see last post) because I have cable dammit. And I watched The Daily Show, Anderson Cooper 360 and even a little Fox News just to see what the 'other guys' are up to these days.  I may never sleep again.



Monday, December 26, 2011

And also?

Some nuggets of updates in order of importance...

One of my oldest and dearest pals QueenKandis honored my birthday by doing what I have yet to grow the balls to do:  She got her nose pierced and it's awesome.  I both love her and envy her this deed.  I mean let's face it, another year under my belt means another year closer to not being able to justify such an act.  That's the kind of shit you can get away with in your 20's and no one bats an eye.  But once you're in your thirties it takes a little more convincing - or at least acting like it's been there since your twenties.  That's my plan anyways.

This just in:  Our man Newt failed to make the ballot for the Virgina Primaries in January.  His home state kids.  I suppose it's also worth noting that Scary Perry also did not obtain the necessary 10,000 signatures to make that ballot and the GOP still refuses to back The Mitt.  It's worth mentioning at this point that Ron Paul not only got the necessary signatures for Iowa but he also seems to be gaining momentum.  Ron. Paul.  True story ya'll.  It's never gone happen but still, it's fun to consider.


And PS - Seven days away from the Iowa caucus and I'm pretty sure the Republican Party is scrambling to do anything short of taking out a want-ad to find someone worth backing.  What a cluster... 

And PPS - The Donald has officially dropped his Republican Party affiliation because he is quite frankly sick of the shenanigans.  Can you say third party?  YES.

I've been off of work for one week exactly and the world has somehow not come to an end.  In fact, it's been going by so slowly that I barely know what to do with all of this time.  Everyone in Chez Schovillova has been taking it so damn easy that I even had to wake Norman up at 10 a.m. this morning.  Granted he's 15 in dog years which may as well be like 200 in people years but still we are just that relaxed.  I've lost track of the actual days of the week and time no es importante.  I can't wait to go back to work on Thursday.  Whenever that is.

We went to see The Artist on Christmas Day.  We were the youngest in the audience by like 50 years - you know, because it's a silent movie about silent movies - and I have to say I was pleasantly surprised.  I hadn't heard about it but Special K (the husband formerly known as Kev) picked it out and and eventhough he said it was a silent movie I didn't really think that he meant silent.  However, the music takes over and replaces the dialogue so beautifully that you actually forget that there are no words being spoken.  We both gave it an A- (this is high Schovillova praise) and if I can give you any advice for preparing you for this silent cinematic journey... 

POPCORN AND SILENT MOVIES JUST DON'T MIX.  EVER. 
You will leave that theater hungry, I promise you that.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

And to ya'll a good night.


It's Christmas at Bubba's House ya'll and that can only mean one thing:  Scrabble tournements for hours or as the Herron's like to call it 'Squabble'.  And Bubba is the shrewdest most thinkin' Budweiser drinkin player that ever was and she will crush you.  One budweiser at a time. 
Hats off to you Bubba Boo! 

Thanks Dad for sending this pic, I wish I was there to throw down.
Love ya'll and to ya'll a good night!

S

Monday, December 12, 2011

Who said the customer was ever right?


Out of respect I have changed the names to protect the innocent.  I could give a shit about the not-so-innocent.  

Last week was madness I tell ya and this really happened...

A guy walks into a bar - one that he frequents on an almost weekly basis and has done so for 5 years now.  He waits in line then orders a beer.

Jerk-Ass Bartender:  Where's your chef's jacket?
GuyMy what?  I'll take a Black Ale.
Jerk-Ass Bartender:  No way man.  Where's your white chef's coat?
Guy:  What are you talking about?  You've got the wrong guy.
Jerk-Ass BartenderNo.  You were in here 2 years ago and conned me out of money!  I'm not serving you.
GuyNow I'm insulted.  You've got the wrong guy.  Where's your manager...
Enter Lame-Ass ManagerWhat's up?
Jerk-AssThis is the guy that ripped me off 2 years ago - the one in the white chef's coat. 
Guy (who for the record has never been a chef and is actually a teacher): He's got the wrong guy.  I'm in here all the time.
Lame-Ass Manager (looking at Guy):  Sorry man, you're out of here.
Guy:  What the fu@*!

Fast forward through days and a bajillion emails back and forth...

This Broad Ripple establishment that also brews beer and is in fact a pub flat out refused to apologize.  In fact, they fully supported the super keen memory of their bartender and said that even though Guy had been frequenting their establishment with friends and family for years, that everyone up there 'knew' that Guy was the late night chef's coat toting con man who'd been going around Broad Ripple and elsewhere in search of a few bucks.  But, if he wanted to come back and in and subject himself to a lineup and if he was in fact declared innocent, then they would be more than happy to eat crow and apologize.  What.  The.  Fug.

As someone who is a) human and b) has been serving in a customer service capacity in some shape or form for almost holy shit twenty years, you can imagine how infuriating this was.  You should be infuriated.  Not only was it defamation of character, but those assholes could have done some major career damage as well.  Not to mention the tragic sadness that overcame Guy as he struggled with the fact that perceived friendships forged at a favorite haunt over the years were in a fact tainted icky lie.  But good ol' Guy.  When I wanted to shout from the roof tops and pepper their facebook and Twitter walls with angry indignance, Guy just wanted to take the low grassroots road and hit them where it hurt most - In their beer bellies.  And it worked by golly.  A few calls to the Midwest Brewers Association and a crazy campaign of indignant emails and apparently 'maniacle' phone calls - you know who you are and you are awesome - later, and the pub powers that be were eventually worn down and succumbed to white flag apologies and promises of free beer. 

And now...
Does Guy accept the emailed apologies from both bartender and manager?  Yes because that's the kind of Guy he is.
Will he go back in there any time soon?  I have no idea but I wouldn't be surprised if he goes in as early as tomorrow or waits a few weeks or months.  I'd lean towards sooner than later because a) they owe him free beer and b) he loves the place that much.
Does Schovillova endorse this establishment and recommend it to anyone who cares?  While still a bit miffed, she still fully endorses their vegetarian menu and India Pale Ale.  That stuff's important.

The moral of the story...
GRASSROOTS WORKS YA'LL!!  And, the customer is always right.  Usually.

Thank you again to all those who wrote and called in maniacally outraged.  You are the best. 
We have been asked to 'call off the dogs'.  Please spread the word.

Sincerely,
Schovillova

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Oh Blago, you'll be missed... but not really.

Guess who finally got served...

Almost 3 years later, former Illinois Governor was finally sentenced to 14 years in prison on corruption charges.  You know, the charges where he tried to sell Obama's former seat in the Senate?  Tisk, tisk.  I must say it's been a ride but I do believe your time is up.  And although you've heard it before, I will say it again...

You're fired.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Are you ready for this?

You have no idea how I kick myself for not documenting this stuff better so that my Future Self - and you - can look back and remember that yes, this happened.  You just can't make this stuff up unless you're Christopher Guest.  I would totally go see this. Welcome to Indecision 2012 kids.  I promise to give more frequent updates as the chaos unfolds...

THE LATEST
No joke ya'll, after being declared as good as dead (the campaign not the man) in May, Newt Gingrich has managed to emerge as the GOP flavor of the month.  Normally this would be a good thing for him but if the past 6 months has told us nothing else, it's that the number 1 man - or woman - has nowhere to go but down. 

July #1:  Bachmann
August/September #1:  Perry
October #1:  Caine
December #1:  Gingrich

RECAP
Even after wrapping a bus and touring the nation, Palin finally declared herself to be both officially not running and also to officially be out of contention last spring.   
Trump's unofficial star also fizzled out in the spring after an almost maniacle campaign to debunk Obama's birth country came up bogus.  Seriously? And oh happy day, The Don still threatens to run as an Independent if he's not happy with the final GOP candidate!  I'm crossing my digits ya'll.
As of now, Bachmann is barely a blip on the radar and she still wants to set up a double-walled electric fence along the Mexico border.  And also?  Michele Bachmann legs is still the #1 way that people find my blog.  What the fug??
Perry's late summer entrance and rise was astonomical but his evenutal fall has been slow, steady and at times downright uncomfortable to watch. Click here to find out more.  He's an idiot.
The latest roller coaster derailment comes in the form of a former GOP leader of the pack candidate by the name Caine.  That's Herman Caine to you but Herb Caine to Sarah Palin.  Oh Sarah, I hope you never go away.  But I digress, back to the Caine Train Wreck... Not shockingly, Herman finally threw in the towel last week after a series of undeniable sex skeletons came tumbling out of his closet.  Everything from settled harrassment suits to a 13 year affair.  Eek.  It's sad to think his team made this video for nothing...
I am, America...

Not mentioned much is Mitt Romney but that's mostly because he has yet to hold a steady 1st place lead since May. Instead he has maintained a solid 2nd place lead which means he doesn't get the skeleton diggers rummaging through his closets - yet.

Anything for a little face time.
COMING UP
Recently Trump decided that he possesses the mad skillz for debate moderation and announced his plans to moderate a December 27 Iowa debate.  This is not a joke.  Sadly, most of the GOP candidates are not taking his latest attempt to remain relevant seriously except of course for our man Newt and former Pennsylvania senator Rick Santorum - the only ones willing to show up for the shenanigans.  I admit, I'll be a little disappointed if it doesn't happen. 

PREDICTION
It's all gonna come down to a Trump-backed Newt - v - Mitt. 

AND ALSO
'Newt' and 'Mitt', really??

Friday, November 25, 2011

A New Tradition

I'm the first to admit that it stinks not living near family - DO YOU HEAR THAT FAMILY!?!?  It STINKS I tell ya.  Yet we seem to put ourselves into this situation quite often.  First Prague, now Indy.  You miss out on a lot when you live far away and trying to fit in a year's worth of life over a week-long visit just doesn't cut it.  And holidays?  Bittersweet.  So last year Kev and I decided not to go anywhere for Thanksgiving and by anywhere  I mean avoided all trains, planes, and automobiles to visit family.  Instead we... dun dun dun...  Stayed put.  And it was glorious - no offense family. In fact it was so glorious we did it again this year and have officially declared it a new tradition. 

Early morning 4.5 mile Drum Stick Dash through Broad Ripple Village with 15,000 of our closest friends, then home to whip up 10 lbs. of mashed potatoes a'la Kev and 4 dozen develled eggs a'la moi while watching Packers-v-Lions.  Said potatoes and eggs have become the extent of our Thanksgiving cullinary efforts which we take next door for our Urban Family Thanksgiving with The Best Neighbors Ever.  The Best Neighbors Ever who, for most holidays, have a revolving door of family, friends, and neighbors, always with more than enough food and drink for whomever lands on their doorstep.  They are just that awesome.

Kev and I recently decided to stay put this Christmas as well.  This one was a difficult decision as we had been planning on heading down to Texas but instead we will stay here with Norman, who at the ripe old age of 15 is not fit to travel let alone hang in a kennel for a week.  When Kev first suggested this Christmas plan it was unfortuantely while we were running a couple weeks ago.  It took a while to stop hyperventillating - true story -because the thought of not seeing Bubba this Christmas - or ever - made me double over like I'd been punched in the gut.  This is when living far away hurts the most.  The notion that I would be seeing her again soon was the only thing that kept me from hyperventillating when I left Texas a month ago.  But then the more I thought about it the more I realized that staying put in Indy is probably for the best.  I can not work for a week and not have to travel anywhere.  I can have a Christmas tree in my house for the first time in 9 years. I can remember my last visit with Bubba as one of the best moments of my life.  I can invite family here and see who shows up.

Do you hear that family?  You're all invited.  The door's open.  And bring presents.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

These guys totally have my vote.

Ladies and gentlemen, I bring to you our future leaders of America.  I speak specifically of the kids in the boxes...
Meet 4 year old Nolan.  A year ago he decided that he wanted to be a box of candles for Halloween.  A box of candles at the age of 3.  His mom thought he'd forget about it but low and behold when this Halloween rolled around and the whole 'What do you wanna be for Halloween' conversation came up, our little genius proudly announced a box of candles.  And so he was. 

Next up - 7 year old Stella.  Oh wait, confused as to which one she is?  Here, let me zoom in...

That's better.  Introducing 7 year old Stel-la (pronounced Stel-LA with hands out to the sides Egyptian style, and head moving side to side) who went as Thing from the Adam's Family.  The girl had this costume down ya'll.  If you look closely you can see a little cut out square where she could still see.  She would walk up to the houses and set her box down, then stick her hand out and point to the trick-or-treat sign.  Again, genius.

Seriously, my costumes were never this cool and they're still not.  In fact, I've discovered that I have a bit of a complex when it comes to dressing up for Halloween because my costumes always sucked.  But these kids?  These kids are down right amazing and  genius.  These are our future leaders of America folks so get ready.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

New Shoes


Sketchers - the new ruby reds?

So let's pretend for like a second that it hasn't been six weeks since my last post....

Today Kev and I got new shoes and for the first time in the history of ever, he is way more excited about getting new kicks than I am.  What's happened to me??  I'll tell you what's happened to me...  Sensible effing shoes have happened to me.  Ugh.  Sensible shoes.  So sensible that they're Sketchers folks.  Kev was impressed at least:  Cool, Sketchers he said, eye brows bouncing up and down.  The kid was legitimately impressed.  So my new cool shoes will now be worn with my work uniform. Yes, I said work uniform and thank you Jesus it only has to be donned once - sometimes twice - a week.  That too has it's pros and cons but let's just keep it to the shoes for now. 

Why now with the sensible shoes?  You may be asking this very question - or not.  The answer is I had no choice.  I could no longer ignore the silent screams of my barking dogs (a southern expression?) at the end of the  (sometimes) 8-12 hour event days.  I had no choice.  And now?  Not 1, but 2 pairs of Sketchers are kickin it in my closet full of beloved heels.  The implications of this have me reeling:    I'm getting old ya'll and all my fancy high heeled shoes are no longer practical for my vertically challenged self.  Mother Nature you slay me.

But like I said, I'm not throwing in the heels just yet.  I figure a day or 2 a week of practicallity won't be too traumatic although it might be a bit confusing to some of my co-workers who may notice my 0-3 inch variance in height every once in a while.  When I was little I used to get so excited about new shoes that I would honest to God tuck them into bed with me the first night of having them.  I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.  Needless to say I won't be tucking the new kids in with me tonight but I can't say the same for Kev.  He was so excited about his fancy new work shoes that he put them on as soon as I came home with them and wore them proudly all afternoon and evening with his Packers jersey, cargo shorts, and knee-high blue socks - it's November after all.  He was prtty disappointed that I didn't share the same enthusiasm because they are after all, new shoes.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

You're Welcome.

I've laughed at this 100 times.  Make that 101.
You can'tdo this and not laugh. 
And then do it again.  And laugh again.
Heh em.
This totally works.  I've tried it.
To hear the full audio to this 911 call click here.  Because it is amazing.
Not all of you will get this and that's OK.
Anyone?  Anyone?
Best brick repair job EVER.
At some point stupid pays off.
You just have to stare.
This really is uncanny.
Bliss.
This is one scary ass gnome.
Pink nightmare.

The Blahtte. It's Back.

I felt the need to re-post this from last year because whether we like it or not folks, these damn drinks just refuse to go away.  In fact, I fear they are becoming even more cultish and I secretly suspect that Starbucks may use crack as a secret ingredient for all the insanity and stampeding that surrounds these piping hot bevs...


Pay no mind to this 90 degree late September Monday because according to the Starbucks calendar it's Fall ya'll. And what does Fall bring? That's right, all together now - The Pumpkin Spice Latte... blek.

First of all, I don't get it. I've tried them, twice, and gagged both times. To me it was like someone had taken pumpkin bread and put it into a blender with a shit ton of whipping cream, heated it, and poured it in a cup and then topped it off with even more whipping cream and served it up 'fresh'. And so help me they are chewy, chewy I say.  I have good friends and co-workers that live for this time of year and are downright giddy solely because of that cup of gross, and quite frankly most of those individuals make good solid choices throughout the rest of the year. This one however has me questioning all of you.

The calorie content in those little drinks kills me. Me, I'm a foodie, and I'd much rather blow that 400-500 calories on bacon and eggs. Or 3 bowls of raisin bran - seriously. Did you know you can check out all the nutritional information of Starbucks drinks online? Of course you did. But you can Check it out here anyways. It's hours of entertainment to distract you from your work day. I'm happy to see that my usual Starbucks fairs don't creep past 200 and really even less than that since I habitually get sugar-free because I'm edgy like that.  But like I said, bacon and eggs and raisin bran.

But really, to each their own friends. Enjoy your Pumpkin Spice Lattes. After all, it's like steaming hot Thanksgiving Dinner in a cup.  Yum!  Me, I won't say a thing. 

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Every Thing On It.



 

I asked for a hot dog
With everything on it,
And that was my big mistake,
‘Cause it came with a parrot,
A bee in a bonnet,
A wristwatch, a wrench, and a rake.
It came with a goldfish,
A flag, and a fiddle,
A frog, and a front porch swing
And a mouse in a mask–
that’s the last time I ask
For a hot dog with everything.


Some of my earliest literary memories involve the cheeky prose of Shel Silverstein.  When I was 8 I was determined to go through Where the Sidewalk Ends page by page and memorize every damn line.  So I did.  And now?  Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too bubbles to the surface and spews forth like it's just another breath from my body.  I can still rattle off the tale of little Melinda Mae who - bless her - ate that monsterous whale, she thought she could, she said she would so she started in right at the tail and OMG, Sister For Sale sill haunts me to this day.  These things I remember.   
As I grew up I continued to collect and devour it all - minus the Playboy articles.  I even wrote a paper in college on The Missing Piece Meets the Big O.  Hi, I was a Psych major and I'm sure it was brilliant.  And now, 12 years after his passing, Shel Silverstein graces us from beyond the grave and fills our senses once more with Every Thing On it.  And we're 8 again.  Reading aloud.    


progress.

So to the 13,000 people who, for the past 20 years we have not allowed to serve in the military we say to thee:  We forgive you.  Feel free to come back and risk your life for our country.

But seriously, yay progress.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

chill.

It's rainy.  It's cold.  Or coldish.  It's 58 degrees and it feels like fall.  Even Dallas is a chilly 92 degrees today.  By the way, Texas officially broke the record for hottest three months ever recorded in the history of the United States.  The average temperature of my beloved Lone Star State for the months of June-August was 86.6 and that includes averaging in the night time lows my friends.  Holy hell on fire ya'll that sucks.  And speaking of fire?  Yeah, it's still ablaze.  What the eff.

But back to Indy where it's chilly and rainy and I'm on my porch in my warm  fleeced comfies, sipping wine and listening to the maudlin sounds of Bon Iver.  Where have you been happy place?  I've missed you.  I went back and looked at posts from this time last year - and the year before - and guess what.  It was 2 years ago that I hurt my ankle.  'Active me' ceased to be and I spent the next 6 months on crutches.  Then surgery.  Then more crutches for 2 more months.  Then baby steps.  And some walls.  Then more baby steps.  More walls.  Then 2 weeks ago I competed participated in a triathlon and I finished.  Slow and steady ya'll.

Lots coming up, lots on the horizon.  First up, Friday is my 6 year wedding anniversary.  Six years.  Chump change to many of you but we've actually been together for 12 years which, when I think about it, is longer than my mom and dad were even married.  Inneresting.  But I digress.  So yeah, six years ago I became for real Schovillova.  The only one on record to be sure, that's how it reads on my marriage certificate since we were marrried in the Czech Republic.  6 years ago my yeti and I were living in Prague and drinking $1 half liter beers.  We had no car, owned no house, our only possessions were in a storage pod in Dallas somewhere - and in various parents' attics.  We traveled via trains and buses and could travel to 3-5 diffferent countries consecutively with nothing more than what we could carry in our back packs.  Those were happy times. 
But so are these dammit. On my porch on a rain chilled September evening. Middle America. Wine. Bon Iver. Yeti.


Monday, September 5, 2011

Texas is on Fire Ya'll!

The largest of the fires whipping through central Texas is in Bastrop County, shown here on Sunday.

This is some scary shit.  Central Texas is facing it's worse fire season in state history with over 3.5 million acres already burned.  Looking at the picture it's hard to imagine how one goes about putting out a fire of this magnitude.  Hoses?  Buckets?  Where is Super Man with that frozen lake dammit?  And also?  Why are these people driving straight the hell into it? 
Why yes honey, today is an excellent day to drive through the GATES OF HELL.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Michele Bachman's legs and other weird ways people found my blog this week.

8 saintly people searched virgin mary statue.  I can thank my niece's toddler obsession with the Blessed Virgin.
6 savvy searchers  schovillova.blogspot.com.
6 folks searched schovillova.
2 creepy people were looking for michele bachmann legs pictures 2.
2 people tried mother mary statue  - I wonder if they switched to virgin mary statue when they kept landing on my blog.
2 people were looking for tammy sporlede  - whoever the hell that is..
1 validating search was I blew my nose and fainted.  This made me happy. 
1 person needed to learn more about the indy go girl triathlon bike crash.  I wonder if that was the person behind me.  She wiped out big time coming into the transition area but managed to bounce back  freaksihly fast for just having ridden a hilly 10 miles.  I'm pretty sure I would have just laid there.
1 person - bless them - was looking for mary statue.  God I bet this person was pissed by the time they finally found an actual site with statues of Mary. 
And 1 person was looking for meFreaky.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Mystery Solved.

Muammar Gadaffi - v - Carlos Santana

 You're welcome CIA.  

You Can Call Me 5-5-7 Bitches: Memoirs of a Rookie Triathlete

I freaking did it.  Yesterday was a monumental day for yours truly as I actually competed  participated in the Indy Go Girl Triathlon and I finished ya'll.  Did I have doubts?  You betcha.  Was I doing it to win?  Hell no.  Did I follow the rigorous training schedule and regimented diet that was highly encouraged for a first time triathloner?  No I did not.  Then why did I do it?  Because I knew that I could.  Or at least I hoped that I could.  I was totally prepared to die trying.

Trust me when I say that Kev was probably more surprised than anyone that I finally decided to really do it (last weekend to be precise).  Last Sunday I asked him if he wanted to go on a 10 mile bike ride. 
Kev:  Why 10 miles?
Me:  Because that's how long the bike ride is for that triathlon next weekend.
Kev:  You're really doing that?
Me:  I think so.
Kev:  Have you been training?  Have you been swimming?  Have you even registered?
Me:  Not really, no, and no.  But I used to do swim team in high school.  And I've been running on and off all summer.  And we biked to the track in May...  Kev sighed heavily and shook his head but aired up my bike tires any ways and we were on our way downtown.  Our 10 miles were cut short by a torrential down pour of end-of-days like proportions, hail included.  We hauled ass the 4 miles back to the house, heads down, bikes blowing, but we made it dammit.   And that was my bike training.

Dude, I used to swim in high 
school. How hard can it be?
I ran on Monday and Tuesday.  2 and 3 miles.  I made a half-ass attempt to find a time to swim but before I knew it the end of the week had arrived.  Kev and I scored tickets to the Packers-v-Colts preseason game on Friday night so like a good husband he checked to make sure that I was in fact still planning on doing the tri.  But I was determined. I didn't even have one stinking beer at the game when I was offered.  Sorry folks, I'm in trainig.  It was water only for this budding triathlete. 

5:30 a.m. came early and thank you Jesus Kev had thought to put my bike (after removing the tire which I totally hadn't even thought about) into his car the night before.  I still needed to register and thus needed to get there early but someow our easy 15 minute drive 
My super-smooth 4 minute tran-
sition. Out damn rocks!  Out I say!
to Eagle Creek Park turned into a 45 minute fiasco of u-turns, wrong ways, and corn fields.  I was ready to get out and walk but Kev kept locking my damn door.  But we made it.  Tons of people there.  High energy.  I was getting excited and nauseated.  Kev kept looking at me with raised eyebrows as the hard bodied triathletes mingled between and among us and even I uttered the phrase What the hell have I gotten myself into? a few times. And then I began to see some not so hard bodied triathletes and felt immediately better.  We started with the 500 meter swim through blue green algae infested lake water.  It didn't look too bad and I thought Oh hell yeah, I can totally do this.  I was up next in the sea of 600 bodies to enter the water and I got my 'You go girl!' starting cry (which sounds totally cheesey but I swear to god it gave me goose bumps and maybe I got a little teary) and I was off in a sea of chaos.  My plan was to stay on the outside but so that was everyone's plan.  There were a few times in the first stretch where I thought This is how I die.  I get pummeled to death in a frenzy of kicking arms and legs while the life guard on her surf board adjusts her angle for maximum sun exposure.  Like fish swimming upstream, we were traveling around, over, and under one another:
It was every fish for herself.

Then there were those who turned to their backs to swim/float, but they also lost direction so as the majority of us were fighting to swim straight ahead those back swimmers criss-crossed - sometimes going perpindicuar to - traffic without a care in the world.  I admit, I ran over a few by accident but then was quick to help them course correct.  I got socked in the stomach and pummeled in the face repeatedly but I kept going.  By the last stretch we had thinned out and I kicked it into high gear as I could make out land through fogged up goggles.

If I let go of the bike I will fall.
If I let go of the bike I will fall. 
While I didn't break any Olympic records with my swim I still managed to pull it off in 15 minutes - 5 minutes less than I had estimated it would take me.  Thank you Coach Moore.  My transition time from drowned rat to road warrior was apparently 4+ minutes - about 2 minutes more than the average bear - but I didn't care.  I took my time.  Wanted to be dry.  Wiped down my poor sandy feet and hydrated.  Then I was off on the bike.  Lots of hills and some moments where I really wanted to just jump off and walk it the rest of the way, but like magic, I would get buzzed with the 'You go girl!' war cry and I stayed on that damn bike and I rode that 10 miles.

All I had left was my run.  As I rode into the transition area I got re-energized.  Ah, 3 miles of running?  Pas ne problem.  Then I jumped off my bike and my legs buckeled.  They were like jelly and I could not fathom running the 3 miles, let alone conquering the hill just to get out of the transition area.  Fuuuuuuuuuuuuug.  I was toast.  My efforts at running the hill were abismal at best so I said screw it and I walked for about 2 full minutes until I got my land legs back.  There, I said it.  I walked.  I reminded myself that I just wanted to finish and that Coach Wolfe was not going to jump out from the trees and yell Get your ass moving Herron!  I started having fun again.  I met friends who had been training for months and I also met some who were ashamed to admit that they hadn't been training much at all - Yes!  Fellow assholes!  And we ran it together.
I Freaking did it ya'll!

Throughout the entire event I was showered with You go 5-5-7! and You're almost home 5-5-7!  My favorite was This is your last hill 5-5-7! and all I wanted to do was shout back No it's not you freaking liar but I didn't.  I smiled and kept going.  Kev was there at the end, clicking away and cheering me on like a maniac.  20 minutes less than I thought it would take and I was done.  


Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Beer, Bojangles, and Bubba.


There were few things that could bring a smile to Bubba's sad little face last weekend as she remained hostage in the hospital (as she put it) with a healing pelvis and frail little limbs.  So what do you do when your 88 year old grandmother pleads with you to smuggle in beer and her dog?  You do it dammit.  And when she pleads with you to go to the Texaco station to buy her more beer?  You do that too because after all she swears she'd do it for you, and anyone who knows Bubba knows that's a fact.  

She's pissed as hell about being 'locked up' and if her car was there she swears she'd tear out of that parking lot so fast...  because you know, the lack of vehicle is the only thing keeping her from leaving the joint.  So yeah, I did it.  I smuggled her beer 2 days in a row and brought her beloved companion Bojangles who we're pretty sure she's leaving everything in her will to and that's ok because I got to see this and it was worth it.


Top Bubba Quotes of 2011:
  1. The South will rise again, you are an angel straight from Heaven.  (after being handed beer #2 on Saturday)
  2. I will die before I quit drinking beer.
  3. Did you come to spring me?  Did you bring me a nail file?
  4. She even got poetic:

Oh I like drinking beer, it makes me a jolly good felllllow.
Oh I like drinking beer, sometimes it makes me melllllow.
(after beer #4 on Sunday, just before she passed into a peaceful snoring slumber)

Monday, July 18, 2011

Drunk Flight Attendant Says...

The cure for a scared flier?  Drunk flight attendant.  I admit I almost didn't get on the last leg of my flight from Chicago to Naptown when I saw that even I had to duck down to board  the flight.  Somehow my co-worker and I were a few of the first to get on the very tiny plane and just after I squeezed past the flight attendant (Jackie) who was hanging half-way into the cockpit, she threw her arm iron-claw style past me and bellowed NO ONE ELSE CAN BOARD!  WE ARE HAVING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES THAT MAY NEVER GET FIXED!  She looked to be in her mid-twenties and had a distinct shine to her face, blood-shot eyes, sweat rolling past her ears - but I kept on to my seat.  I didn't think I could get past the iron claw back to the jet bridge.
Me (meekly):  Um, should we go ahead and unboard?  At this point I'd noticed that all the shades were drawn, it was pitch black on the plane and hot. as. hell.  That technical difficulty?  A little thing called no a/c.
Flight Attendant Jackie:  Meh, it's up to you.  She didn't even turn around to give me the meh.  She held an ice cold glass of something to her forehead.

Fast-forward 10 minutes and exit plane mechanic, the plane comes alive and Flight Attendant Jackie has wiped down the sweat beads and put on her best flight attendant smile.  It took all of 10 more minutes for folks to board, then Flight Attendant Jackie started playing the game.  You know, the one where moving 2 or 3 people to different seats is the difference in whether or not your plane goes down in a firey ball.  And then?  She moved those same 2 or 3 bodies back to their original starting positions and laughed.  This act was followed by a reassuring:  Don't worry folks, we will make it to Indy on time.  You know how I know?  It's because I have a hot date tonight!  A quick nod of reassurance and she was pointing out the exit rows.

Jackie was on fire.  As she moved on to the mask instructions her self-sensor remained non existent:  In the event of an emergency and if you are traveling with a small child, place your mask on first, and then place your child's mask.  If you are traveling with 2 small children, place your mask first, and then place the mask on the child with the most earning potential.  

I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.  She tapped off her spiel with:  If you have heard and understand everything I've said, raise your hand.  Pause.  Glance.  Nod.  Meh, good enough.  And that was that.  She passed out a tray of warm iceless OJ, tomato juice, and water, offering side bottles of Vodka.  We landed in Indy in no time and Flight Attendant Jackie was quick to remind us to please unboard in a timely manner because you know, she had a hot date.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Killer Klowns from Waterloo

OMG I cannot wait for the 2012 Presidential race to hurry up and get under way already!  For real folks, it's gonna be a circus.  The pre-show has not disappointed as yesterday, Tea Party icon and hopeful GOP nominee Michele Bachmann told Fox News (blek) that she wants people to know that like her, John Wayne was also from Waterloo, Iowa, and 'that's the kind of spirit I have'.  Someone had to have gotten fired for that fact fail because the John Wayne from Waterloo, Iowa, is in fact John Wayne Gacy.  You know, the clown-clad serial killer of 33 boys in the 70's (he buried the bodies under his home in Chicago - talk about spirit!).  Yeah, that John Wayne, is from Waterloo.  Whereas this handsome devil...
 is not.  He's from Winterset, Iowa, but close enough, right?
Tic toc ya'll.


Thursday, June 23, 2011

It's Called Living Art Ya'll.

Field trip day for my summer camp at the IMA 100 Acres Park.  We took 60 kids ages 6-12 to let them run amock (in a semi-structured fashion of course) among the outdoor sculptures and trees.  6-year old Teah banged her knee pretty good on the Funky Bones and was forced to stay behind with your truly while we waited for her mom to maybe or maybe come to retrieve her.  While we waited we iced the swelling knee and waxed poetic.  She might be the funniest kid I've ever encountered.  Our bus driver ideled yards away in case we needed transport back to the museum and I thought to myself What a nice man to volunteer to do that  but then I soon realized the error of my thinking.  As Teah and I laid on the plush grass and turned gray skies into fish and stars, I glanced up to see the Nice Man Bus Driver hanging half way out of his window, mouth agape, eyes wide.  Teah noticed too and we both turned in unison to the object of his, um, attention.  Here's what we saw: 
Teah:  Miss Nicole!  What's she doing?
Miss Nicole:  Posing?  Resting?
Teah:  But you said we're not supposed to climb on the art!  And look at those shoes!
Miss Nicole:  Look Teah, I spy a rabbit!
Teah:  Miss Nicole, why is she wearing a bathing suit?
Nice Man Bus Driver:  HEY! COME OVER HERE! I GOT A GOOD SHOT FOR YOU!(apparently there was someone with a camera clicking away as our orange-shoed friend climbed amidst the non-climbable art installation and in heels no less!)
Teah:  Why is he yelling at them? 
Miss Nicole:  I don't know but let's not stare.  Did you know that you can make music with just 2 blades of grass?
Teah:  Huh?
Nice Man Bus Driver: I'M TELLING YOU, THE PERFECT SHOT IS RIGHT THERE!  I cringed uncomfortably.
Teah:  Eyes popping out of her head as the scene unfolded behind her back.  She slapped her hands to the sides of her face and exclaimed Oh miss Nicole this is so embarassing!  He loves her!
Miss Nicole:  I don't know Teah, maybe.  But I think she's ignoring him.
Teah:  She doesn't love him, he should stop yelling.  I can't watch!  She covered her eyes, shaking her head back and forth.  Priceless.
As the photoshoot continued the Nice Man Bus Driver believe it or not managed to get the photographer's attention and they shared trade secrets and guess what, this was the money shot:
Side note:  This week of camp the theme is all things art; How all different mediums can be used to create art.  Jelly Beans can be turned into art and so can coffee pots.  By this time we ditched the blades of grass and just plain ol watched the photoshoot continue...
Miss Nicole:  Teah, do you think she could be art?
Teah:  Yeah, head tilting, looking thoughtful, I would call her 'living art'.