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this post will most certainly cause one to think flyboy is a natty ice guzzling, overweight, balding man. he’s not, he enjoys pabst blue ribbon. i kid, i kid. with that disclaimer out of the way…

flyboy went to the kentucky derby over the weekend. yes, by choice! while he was gone we entertained ourselves with bad state slogans. some of our best were:

kentucky, where we wish immigration were an issue!

kentucky, where sleeping with your cousins isn’t required to visit, but it helps!

kentucky, we make your state look good!

midge, my abfab partner-in-crime, got married this weekend. i’m fine with being the last of the single girls, mostly because i’m the only one who can take home the elvis impersonator without guilt.

yes, elvis was most certainly a guest. sadly, he declined when i passed him the special juice. perhaps he had plans to raid the old ladies purses for pills. whatever the case, i was disappointed not to have the chance to drink with elvis.

next time, e, next time…

you know someone really likes you when the compliments they give you are:

1) wow, you sure don’t drink beer like a girl!

2) dude, you eat fast. i can barely keep up.

3) you are crazy.

4) i’ve always believed people are born inherently good, that is until i met you.

5) *compliment withheld at this time.

best text message of the day:

Me too, safe in Albuquerque, one more flight.

i only have one question, is anyone ever really safe in albuquerque?

i noticed this on jb’s office shelf today. i’ve yet to gain the courage to actually open the box. i’m afraid some things are better off left to the imagination, especially my imagination.

last night flyboy invited me over for an evening of drinks and chain restaurants. i happily accepted and made the trek north: destination layton, or idaho as i call it.

somehow, i overshot and ended up in clearfield, go figure. i stopped for directions at the local maverick (a little bit white trash, a little bit country), it was there i realized, yet again, that nascar is ruining the nation. i patiently waited a couple minutes before interrupting the riveting conversation between the toothless employee and the man in the nascar jacket; there are only so many times i can listen to “holy shit, whoa man”, before i lose what’s left of my rumored sanity. i explained where i was attempting to go, only to get a “LAAA-DY… this ain’t layton!”

thank god for that….

it’s pete ashdown blog day.

my fellow slc bloggers will cover the real reasons why he deserves our vote, and since the important topics can be read at their sites, i thought i would share with you my reasons to vote pete.

it’s simple really, it comes down to the packaging. i will buy nearly anything that has fantastic packaging. sure, what’s inside sorta counts but the outside look is what gets me. i admit, i’m a packaging whore.

with that in mind, look at this little goodie…. while the opposition, orrin’s too busy molesting little michael j. fox to care….now, don’t get me started on orrin’s fashion sense, or lack thereof. i think ethan has covered that extensively.

growing up in the country does things to people. things we don’t speak about in mixed company, on the world wide web, however, we do: banjo love.

the other day i came home to find this….ben’s been talking about buying a banjo for months. i thought it was a passing phase like his obsession with girl mullets, apparently not. i’m not sure what frightens me more, the thought of him becoming willie nelson, or the idea he was so excited he couldn’t wait until he got inside to play the damn thing.

i’ve found my calling in life! no, not turning making fun of people into an olympic sport, but rather bumper stickers– finding entertainment in them, and passing it onto you good people.

flyboy and i spent the day wreaking havoc on the fair city of salt yesterday. it was a marathon judgment day, and not only did he tolerate my people skills, but he participated, and well i might add! the venue was liberty park for the drum circle; those who have spent time with me know, hippie watching is a sport. there were so many favorites to choose from and sadly, no camera. as usual, i made it out alive and offended only a few. duck man being the few (plural as i’m positive he considered the giant toy duck he carried around a friend). at one point duck man noticed our watchful eyes, it was then i felt a little guilty. not to worry, i washed that right down with more judgment and a diet coke.

one sunburned nose later we ended up at andy’s. i don’t remember the last time i had such a good time getting groped at the local dive bar. sadly, it was just jack doing the groping. jack being my new dive bar boyfriend; this is not an exclusive relationship, nor is it reciprocated.

flyboy handled the entire day with ease, which causes one to think i’ve possibly found myself an elitist partner-in-crime.