Lists

Sometimes when I'm bored I make lists. 

Only children are known for being able to self-entertain, but I like to think that, like crossword puzzles, it’s good exercise for the brain, ensuring that as I grow old I won’t become demented, and therefore unlikable.

This is a list from a few months ago that I found last night while going through discarded scraps of paper in my purse.  This particular list goes back many years to an argument my friend Scott once made that it is impossible for a man to look cool while counting out exact change to pay for something. From the deep reach into your pocket to the way you sift the coins around in your palm with one finger before finally handing the cashier 17 cents pressed daintily between your thumb and forefinger. It’s a physical impossibility to look cool doing it.

And it got me to thinking: Who’s the coolest man I know (George Clooney, of course), and what can he do without looking stupid?

• Sit in the back seat of a friend’s car.
• Eat a muffin.
• Hiccup.
• Q-tip ears.
• Bowflex.
• Apply chapstick.
• Try to put sunblock on his own back.
• Scoop ice cream.
• Hold a purse.
• Wait in line.
• Trip.
• Walk barefoot through airport security.
• Button fly jeans.
• Eat hot soup.
• Fill out a large Chinese take-out order form.
• Herpes.*
• Order tea.
• Drink a frozen umbrella drink.
• Get change from a cabby.
• Jump over a puddle.

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* I’m not sure Herpes would be a desired outcome, but somehow George would make even this look cool.

Burning Inferno

As if the raging fires currently in Colorado haven't made it hot enough, yesterday my dear friends, Leigh and Katie, talked me into doing a 1/2 Marathon trail race.  The race started at 8am at 99 degrees.  By 9am it was 105 degrees.  Bitches.

We look great BEFORE the race!

While Katie and Leigh went off to pee, I hung out with my awesome friend, Mark (Leigh's husband). 
 Within seconds, Kool and the Gang starts playing....
MUSIC

..... and when that happens, it matters not where I am or what I am doing - Sharpie will DANCE!

Shake it, Sister!

The trail race begins and Katie takes off like it's a 5K.   But it's not like it's a challenge for her, this cute, tiny thing weighs like 90lbs -- the wind pretty much blows her forward.  (Okay, okay - she's a kick ass trail runner too!)

There were a few out & back sections amid the course - every time I saw Katie or Leigh we always screamed and slapped hands.

What do you get when you combine record breaking heat + lack of aid stations?
IMPLOSION~!

Mile 9 began the meltdown and my long, slow death...

Mark took shade on a lounge chair, after he went out to breakfast ("Hey, I knew I had like an hour - I was gettin' a breakfast burrito!").  He had my phone so he could get some shots of the crew.
Mark later told us he was really bored waiting for us to run by.

Get a load of this shit!

Is this your foot?

check out this handsome mug!

How about this?

Oh, I got more for ya!

"How ya like me now?"

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd..... let's start to get even more candid with that camera!

Is that your CROTCH?

Indeed it is.  Nice, Mark!

Finally Carole goes by at a snails pace.  I would have cried but I was too tired.  It was 105 degrees when this was taken.   I don't miss East Coast humidity by any stretch of the imagination....but let me tell you, 105 in dry heat, sun baking you because you're so high up (altitude) - it is NO picnic.

I later asked Leigh and Katie if they saw the unicorn at Mile 11.

Leigh was over it.  She walked over to Mark, during the race, and stood to talk to him for 5 minutes while she bitched about being in this desert inferno.

Finally all 3 girls finished.  STUD little pixie Katie WON the 40-49 age category!  Yeah, Katie!!!!

And, we must have a shot of the wonder couple: Mark & Leigh.  They are my Boulder Family and I'm so lucky to have them both.

Congrats Katie and Leigh making it through a killer day.   As usual, you both make everything better.
I AM STILL DEHYDRATED!!!!!
....................But you've got to finish the day right!   GOOD FOOD!!!!

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WHAT is going on here? Be warned.

Today I present to you what might possibly be the first true sign that the Apocalypse is nigh. What I'm about to show you is so frightening, so sick, so wrong, that only Beelzebub himself could conjure it up. It's a triple threat of the worst kind -- a trifecta of ungodly elements coming together to form what can only be described as "HOLY SH*T! WHAT THE F*CK IS GOING ON THERE?!"

 Yes, everybody, courtesy of my new e-friend, Ashley, carolesharpless.blogspot is both ashamed and proud to bring to you a 20-something female, sporting torn nylons, which she doctored by cutting out a space to place her big toe so she could wear flip-flops to work. Again, HOLY SH*T! WHAT THE F*CK IS GOING ON THERE?! (I warned you!)



Egad! Do you dare take a closer look? I will! (I'm a masochist, what can I say? Bring it!)

From this photo, you can clearly see the web-effect created by the hose, as well as the slightly darker color of the toes covered by the nylons and the big toe left bare. But, like I said, I wasn't the [un]lucky chosen one to witness this firsthand. Ashley was, and her recounting of this very bizarre "HS!WTFIGOT?!" incident reads a bit like a horror film:  

I am walking, enjoying the beautiful weather, counting the number of women sporting Rainbows, Havianas, and Crocs when I notice the woman in front of me seems to have some sort of webbed toes. Naturally I speed up so I can see this freak of nature. As I get closer I realize that the webbing is actually pantyhose. With flip-flops. I am thinking, "How is that possible?" I mean, talk about toe wedgie. And then I see the horror. This 20-something woman is wearing pantyhose (with a sizable run in the leg, I might add) that she has altered so she can wear them with flip-flops. She had cut the big toe out of the pantyhose so she could navigate comfortably in her couture flip-flops. And obviously show off her 3-month-old grungy toe-nail polish that was half chipped off.

 When I read this E-mail for the first time, my mouth dropped open. I literally went into shock for a hot second. All of this unnecessary ugliness is so avoidable, which is why it makes it so ridiculously infuriating. Although I've broken it down in the general sense already regarding its total retardulousness, allow me to remedy this situation in detail, in the slim chance that the definition of dishabille pictured above stumbles upon this bitchfest of a blog post:

1) It's effing hot. If you're under 50 and aren't currently broken out in hives, nude-colored pantyhose are incredibly unnecessary. Not only do they age you, but they often just look retarded. Especially when they're ripped.

2) Now, if you can't live without your flesh-toned nylons, say, you are broken out in hives, then here's what you do: DON'T WEAR OPEN-TOE SHOES. Now, this is not to discourage opaque tights and open-toe shoes. That sh*t can look tight. But old-lady nylons and open-toe shoes look wack together -- so wack, in fact, it's wacker than me using the word wack and that's pretty f*cking wack. Moreover, to choose a flip-flop as your open-toe shoe of choice? Words can barely explain how wrong that is.

3) But you're smart. You wanted to avoid the toe-wedgie, so you thought up a little trick to doctor your gnarly nylons. Smart. Real smart. Perhaps, you're even a genius. -- a blind genius, it would seem, but a genius nonetheless. Oh, eff it. You're insane, I tell ya! INSANE! 

The Haunted

·         What does it mean when something is haunted? What exactly is a ghost?

Is it when something from the past refuses to leave? Is it when something dies but doesn't go?

It's easy to talk about haunted places. A haunted house.  A haunted building. We smile at those stories. We want to hear more. We get excited. There is no stigma, no shame. But what about haunted people? Isn't it true that, as people, our lives can become haunted things as well? The past can haunt the present. The past can steal the future.

Something breaks or something dies and in living with the pain, we begin to live with ghosts. And by our choices, we either ask the ghosts to leave or we help them make a home.

If we can talk about haunted buildings, then we should be able to talk about haunted people.

Maybe we begin to ask the ghosts to leave when we begin to ask others to join us in our haunted places. In the broken parts of stories. Our messes and our questions.

Maybe we begin to help our friends become unhaunted when we let them know we're not afraid of their pain. When we ask to really know them. When we ask to see inside.  When we do our part to go beyond the distance and the smile, when we venture deeper to "who are you?"

I am a haunted house.  I have had things die but they stay and I haven't known how to make them leave. And there’ve been times I haven't wanted them to leave because they are beautiful. They are no longer real, or mine, but they are beautiful. They are bridges to brighter days.  They are my greatest dreams.

But reality is the best place to live. Reality is where healing happens.

Most of us will or have known ghosts from time to time. But if our life is like a building, then we should open our doors to let some people see inside. And into our darkest places - into those rooms that hold our fears and dreams - we tell the ghosts it’s time to go.

·         Today courage will win.


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