Kids These Days!

I feel like I've already written a post with this exact same title. If that is indeed the case, it simply goes to show the sheer depth of my frustration with today's younger generations. They most recently flaunted their flaws on Halloween night, one that children look forward to all year 'round as it enables them to walk door to door and get FREE candy from their extremely generous neighbors (candy ain't cheap).

Sounds AMAZING, right? What a deal! You get to dress up as some awesome character or whatever you want really, walk around in the dark with your friends and get heaps of free, delicious, sugary candy that will give you a crazy high, make you bounce off the walls, and then pass out from exhaustion. What an evening, Halloween is....

That should be fun enough for today's youth, right? WRONG. I'll start this rant off by conceding that yes, there are many polite, well-mannered young people wandering around in this world, and we encountered a great deal of them on Halloween during trick-or-treat time. However, another great deal of children were snotty little ungrateful brats who acted in a way that I am sure no kids did when I was one.

I also concede that my roommates and I were not properly prepared candy supply-wise for the hoards of children that came by on Halloween night. However, even our need to rush out and buy more candy to restock was partly to blame on snotty children, namely those who took more than one in spite of our specific verbal instruction to take "just one." Some of them needed to work on their listening skills, like one child who said "well, I didn't get both types of candy!" and grabbed a second one.

Jerks.

Most of the candy-kid-drama occurred in the first portion of the night as we handed out bags of chocolate snack mix and lollipops. As my roommate handed a kid dressed as some superhero or another a bag of the snack mix, he stated that he didn't like that. In my day, we were never that rude! It's FREE! Just take it, smile, and say thank you! Other children asked what specific flavors of lollipops we had and immediately made a sour face when we said we didn't know (they all had the same wrapper). On that same note, one kid put back the candy he was given and demanded to choose his own. I repeat: smile, accept the candy, say "thank you." Three easy steps.

Once we ran out of the snack mix and lollipops, my roommate came up with a backup plan to hand out Halloween-themed temporary tattoos. We felt confident in this decision until we found out how extremely averse the trick-or-treaters were to temporary tattoos. One kid actually turned to the rest of his pack of friends when he saw that we had tattoos and shouted "let's go, all they have are tattoos!"

The candy-less period of the evening seemed to drag on slower than a snail moving through expired molasses (which, for some reason, I imagine is stickier and thicker than unexpired molasses. Actually, does molasses expire??). We made a very apologetic sign which many people ignored and when they rang anyway we broke the news to many disappointed kids. Some were bratty and rude about our candy shortage (partly caused by earlier children taking too many, I'll point out again), but some kids were kind and understanding which was refreshing. 

Too many kids these days are like this little "gem" of  movie character...

When our reinforcements arrived with supplemental candy, things had died down a bit but drama ensued. Many kids greedily snatched handfuls of candy without even a mumble of "thanks" and without preceding their candy-grabbing by saying "trick or treat!" It's a pretty easy thing to say to get candy. As it got later, children who had already been by earlier came back and asked for extra candy since it was the end of the night. Seriously?! Take what you get and be THANKFUL! I guess being thankful is too much of a struggle for some, hence why society seems to ignore Thanksgiving decoration-wise and head straight for Christmas.

What about Thanksgiving?!

Perhaps the "highlight" of the evening...the high school kids who are way too old to trick or treat and really just irritate everybody. I felt horrible for my roommate when she answered the door from them. One of the two girls in the group said to my roommate "my friends drew something on my face, do you know what it is?" It was a penis. Nice end to the evening.

Post ranting, I will once again add the disclaimer that I in no way think this behavior applies to all kids. There were certainly polite kids who thanked us and used these things called manners. But this blog isn't about them.

Biker Chick

I must admit I never thought the above term would ever describe me in a million years. I enjoyed biking as a child, sure, and it helped me get to class when running late in college (though I was certainly a hazard to any pedestrians on campus, I'm a bit of a spazz on a bike). However, I never saw myself as someone who uses a bike as my primary mode of transportation. Over the past few weeks, I have discovered that biking is not only a blast and a great way to get around, but also something I am intensely passionate about. If I'd started biking earlier in life, maybe I could have been the female, drug-free and honest version of Lance Armstrong. I'd use a different comparison but I don't know the names of any other bikers.

I love biking because it feels like you are part of a community, at least here in Boulder. Bikers are all over the place due to the accessibility of getting around cycling. I was shocked that in construction zones, there are even bike lanes made of cones. I feel like that wouldn't happen anywhere else. Anyhow, I feel like us biker folk have a connection amongst each other that only other bikers would understand. For example, when a car completely blocks a crosswalk, we sometimes give each other an annoyed look to demonstrate our shared frustration. Bikers, in my experience, have been quite friendly in general, their kindness shown with a nod, smile, or other similar gesture upon passing.

So...much...community!

 Yes, I adore biking. I have already learned heaps about bicycles as well. For instance, my seat was far too low for far too long, and I learned that keeping the seat too low isolates certain leg muscles while pedaling whereas a higher seat promotes the unison of various muscle groups.

I've also learned that I am one of those bikers that really irritates drivers. When I drive, I feel on edge all the time about bikers and the swift, often unpredictable moves they make. Like, is this dude going to last minute switch from the bike lane into my turn lane? Probably. But you NEVER know! And I see how frustrating that can be from both sides. As a biker, I feel jazzed that we have so many "traffic rights," if you will. I already mentioned the cone lanes, and it seems like there is a never ending number of "yield to bike" signs. It's like, as bikes, we always win! As we should- it takes a lot of preparation and leg muscle to make biking all over a functional practice.

Let's all bike together!

Maybe we should all just get rid of cars and switch back ro bikes. Yeah... it must be obvious now that I haven't yet biked in the winter... 

This DOES look awful...

Pigs Are People, Too (PART TWO)

I know you are all just waiting for this- the moment I decided I couldn't live without a guinea pig post house sitting. Fine, you all know me SO well, give yourselves a pat on the back and let's get back to what's important, MY STORY!

Yesterday, I decided to peruse the options of pigs available for adoption at the Humane Society of Boulder Valley. All I wanted was to find a guinea pig exactly like Cookie in every single way. That's not too high of an expectation, is it?? Didn't think so. On the site, one of the first guinea pigs listed, Panchito, was Cookie's identical twin. I called the location where he was listed to be, and sadly learned that he was just adopted. Of course he was. The lady told me in this horribly heartless tone, too. Jerk.

No Panchito?!?!

However, a little lower down the list was a little guy who looked a lot like Cookie too, but with a lot more white fur. I looked to his name and knew it was meant to be. Fili. Like, one of the dwarves from The Hobbit. If that isn't a sign, I don't know what is. The only thing that would make our match more destined to be would be if there were a caption under his picture saying "MARISA COME ADOPT ME NOW." Actually, if that were the case I would probably be a bit creeped out.

So I decided. If Fili was available, it was destiny. I called and waited with bated breath as she checked to see if he was still there. YES, she told me cheerfully, and I instantly asked her to put it on hold. I begged her as if there were a line of people out the door and commingling around Fili to take him home right then and there. 

Heart racing, I drove over to the humane society. The woman at the counter told me to take a seat and wait for someone to find a room where Fili and I could meet. I felt insanely nervous as if I were about to adopt a child or go on a blind date, which are both creepy scenarios to compare to meeting a guinea pig. After about fifteen minutes, an employee led me into a room and put Fili on my lap. He just sat there, just like Cookie. So far, so good. I pet him for about a half hour and he began to make soft squeaks. Perfect. He didn't even poop or pee on me, which instantly scored him some points. Then I put him on the ground. He lazily bumbled about, just like Cookie. Done, done, and done.

Our first meeting.

I signed a bunch of papers that I didn't really read and Fili and I headed home. Unfortunately, there are now three guinea pigs that all hate each other in the house. Turns out, males don't get along. Should have figured that one. Whatever, Fili is awesome, Bob goes home today, Cookie is super chill, and things are good in my little wild kingdom.

Pigs Are People, Too

Okay, that's not even remotely true. Pigs are pigs, and people are people, and this blog isn't even about pigs, it's about guinea pigs. Yes, guinea pigs: America's favorite pet rodent and Peru's favorite main course (actually, judging by their size I would probably only consider them to be appetizers). Guinea pigs have taken up a surprisingly large role in my summer this year, and I wanted to bestow upon all of my readers the privilege of hearing ALL about it. Can't wait? That's what I thought.

So, flashback to the beginning of the summer. I am three months younger, and about to launch into a summer-long house sitting gig. The family that lives here is spending the summer in a home on the East Coast.

When first offered the gig, I hesitated as they have two rather high-maintenance dogs (one elderly and medicated, partially blind and deaf, and hardly mobile and the other a young, spritely and large dog not yet aware of his own strength). However, they informed me that the dogs would be venturing east with them, causing me to do a little jig of victory internally.

Then I remembered... the dogs weren't their only pets. Cookie the Guinea Pig also lived in the house I would be watching. I anxiously asked if Cookie would be going with them, too- I had no desire whatsoever to take care of any creature beneath that roof besides myself. My heart sunk a bit when I found out that Cookie would be my responsibility, too. I fully anticipated a very half-ass effort on my part just to keep the thing alive, but quickly I realized my affinity toward the creature.

Cookie has a personality just as well defined as any other living being I have come across. He is laid-back, cares about eating way more than he should (often to the point of prioritizing it above his own safety), is relatively quiet but still makes those charming little squeaks from time to time, and will happily sit on my lap while watching TV and just relish in being stroked. Cookie and I became fast friends, and so attached that I began to worry about our eventual and inevitable separation. Actually, anyone who knows me was worried about it too- I was attached like a conjoined twin to this furry little critter.

I began to wonder if all guinea pigs are this rad as pets. One weekend, the neighbors asked me to watch their guinea pig, who shall not be named (we will call him Bob just to make this easier to understand. He doesn't deserve more than a generic name like that [no offense to my readers named Bob. It's a pretty good name for a person]) while they went out of town. I agreed. Bob came over and quickly demonstrated that no, not all guinea pigs are rad as pets. Some are just horrible.

First of all, he was a jerk to Cookie and that is just not cool. No one messes with my baby! Yikes, can you imagine what I would be like as a mother? I put them next to each other for a quick photo op and Bob quickly attacked. Screw you Bob. That instantly put him on my most-hated list. That's not a list that anyone wants to be on.

Also, he squeaks to this volume that seems absolutely unbelievable coming from his tiny body. In no way are these cute, quiet squeaks like Cookie's- no, these are more like blood-curdling shrieks. I also decided that Bob was trying to sabotage me. As I recorded a guitar song and was finally happy with my take, he squealed in the last five second and ruined it, as if he were just waiting for the end to do so. Whatever, I posted it anyway so joke is on him. Or maybe he won that round, whatever. Click here for the song, and wait for the squeak at the end.

Okay, I just realized how ridiculously long this post would be if I made it just one, so I'm going to split this bad boy and make it a two-parter.

Willie Nelsons

No, that is not a misprint in the title. I do not DO misprints, sheesh. And I am so humble and modest about my lack of misprints, too. Ahem... back to the point of this whole blog. Willie NelsonS. Plural.

Last Friday, I went with the band Intuit to Crestone to attend a festival called Crest Fest. Clever, right? I mean, it is totally a catchy name. After a charming four-hour car ride there, we went to the artist check-in counter and the lady putting on our bracelets was a bit overwhelmed and kind of overlooked the fact that I was not in the band. So, I walked in there wearing a musician bracelet.

I'm sure a lot of you are at a complete and total loss as to why that would be exciting. BECAUSE, of course, the bracelet was the golden (okay, orange) ticket into the land of backstage, the mysterious world where musicians get to chill before and after their sets. The backstage area was magical in multiple ways. First, there were free massages. Second, there was an enormous table with an impressive spread of grub. From pluots to peaches, sandwiches filled with any lunch meat you can imagine (unless you have some super bizarre imagination. Tone it down guys, there were no giraffe sandwiches), brownies, cookies, coffee, iced tea, the works. The only thing that the backstage area lacked was a sexy man to hand feed me grapes while two others fanned me.

I know you are all in anxiety inducing suspense about the Willie Nelsons. So, this was a rather small festival, in the middle of Hippieville Colorado, nestled in a field surrounded by mountains. So, naturally, it drew in a certain crowd. The crowd consisted of a shocking amount of men who looked exactly like Mr. Nelson, especially when you consider the low-ish amount of attendees (not because it was a lame-o festival but because it was just tiny). At first I thought I was just seeing the same guy over and over but then I started noticing that they were wearing different outfits.

Not as unique as you thought, Mr. N!

The amount of Willie look-a-likes truly threw me for a loop. I mean, I always considered him a rather unique looking character. However, by the end of the night I counted at LEAST seven of them, and who knows, there very well may have been more.

Pondering Yoga Poses

Chaturanga dandasana. Exhale! Downward-facing dog!

All you yogis out there most likely feel sweet relief from downward-facing dog (or down dog for short), a "restful, home-base posture" allowing you to refocus on your practice and reset your breath. Some of you probably do down dogs at home for a good stretch and for some relaxation. Some of you may quickly deem it your favorite yoga posture.

For me, downward-facing dog is agony. I freaking hate that posture. Honestly, the primary reason I practice hot yoga or Bikram yoga most frequently is that it doesn't have that horrendous posture. Aside from the fact that it sends shooting pains through my shoulders (okay, okay, a bit dramatic there...it just doesn't feel pleasant), I apparently just can't get it right. During a good 25% of the classes I take I am corrected by some way or another by an instructor. Sometimes they pull my hips up and back. Sometimes they push on my heels to get them to touch the mat.

Yes, I passionately hate down dog. None of you will believe this, but I also hate child's pose, another allegedly "restful" posture. I admit I am strange when it comes to my likes and dislikes of yoga postures. Let's continue, shall we? Maybe in list form from now on.

Yoga Postures Listed from My Least Favorite to Favorite
(Disclaimer: this list doesn't contain every yoga pose in existence. Not even close)

1) Downward-facing dog (just thinking about it makes me wince)

Doesn't this look RELAXING?? No.

2) Half-moon (Ardha candrasana)

Worst thing ever. But makes good abs.

3) High to low plank (Chaturanga dandasana)

 

Because we all LOVE planks!

4) Standing Head to Knee (Dandayamana-Janushirasana)
Basically I just can't figure this one out. My balance is just that bad.

Yep, I can only get to step one.

5) Standing Separate Leg Head to Knee Pose (Dandayamana-Bibhaktapada-Janushirasana)

Can't...breathe...so...awful....

6) Standing Bow Pose (Dandayamana-Dhanurasana)
I have a love/hate relationship with standing bow pulling pose. Some days I rock it and others....not so much.

7) Plow (Halasana)

This seriously feels amazing.

8) Tree Pose (Tadasana)

 





















9) Camel Pose (Ustrasana)This is literally my "hangout pose." It's relaxing and fun and feels awesome.

10) Fixed Firm Pose (Supta-Vajrasana)

Okay I'm tired of looking up these pictures, but also, I HATE locust pose with a firey passion. I only do it because a teacher once told me that the postures you hate the most are the ones you need the most. Alright, fine.

Every Comedian Needs to Write a Book

I am in the middle of a phase. Not a strange fashion phase where I only wear clothing made of mink (death to all minks! [Totally joking, PETA, don't send your assassins for me]) or a depressive, Gothic phase (that already happened). It is a literary phase, in fact, that initiated when I decided to listen to Amy Poehler's book Yes Please on CD in the car. Her book was amazing, and essentially changed my life. She shows her vulnerability in this lovely chronicle of her life, admits to mistakes she has made, relishes in the joys she has experienced (motherhood, her career, etc.), and shares emotions that we all feel constantly (celebrities feel insecure too?! WHAT!?), all while making the reader/listener laugh out loud throughout (unless the reader/listener has no sense of humor whatsoever). After the final words on the final CD sifted through the speakers, lingered for a moment in my mind and disappeared, I suddenly felt motivated to read another comedian biography.

Thankfully, there are many. So, this phase may endure for quite some time, making my brief Gothic phase seem like a mere blip on the radar of life (also, can someone tell me if Gothic is capitalized??). My next choice was actually my first choice, but they were out of it at Barnes And Noble (it should be Barnes N' Noble, in my opinion, it's a bit catchier. Whatever, they will probably go out of business soon. Not like I'm hoping for that). So I apologize to Amy Poehler- her book was my second choice after Tina Fey's Bossypants, only because everyone in my life ranted and raved about its unparalleled excellence on the hilarity scale.

I have to say, however, before moving on to the Bossypants reading experience, that I am so freaking happy that I read Yes Please because it re-motivated me to watch Parks and Recreation, the hilarious show in which Amy Poehler is the main character, from season 1 to 7 and I loved every second of my binge watching experience.

Anyways, I have to admit that reading Bossypants was an immensely enjoyable experience, I laughed so hard that it I attempted to read it while drinking the beverage would have shot through my nose (if that actually happens). To be honest though I wish I had gotten it on CD. Not that I am lazy, but I imagine hearing her actually read the words would have been fantastic, as it was in Amy Poehler's book.

Upon closing the back cover I once again felt that void that could only be filled by a book written by a comedian. Since I was watching Parks and Rec, I decided to check out Aziz Ansari's new book titled Modern Romance. I was taken aback at first noticing that it was not simply a comedian recalling life experiences or making observations about life but a research piece on how the dating world has changed so drastically over the recent years. I was irritated at first thinking that it would be like reading a dry research essay- I bought a comedian's book so I could LAUGH, damn it! But to my pleasant surprise, it was a gut buster as well as extremely informative. I closed the back cover literally minutes ago and loved every page. Another life changer.

What's next? Nick Offerman's book, of course!