things that fascinate me about concerts

1. People get into physical fights during the performance.

2. Doing drugs in public becomes PC once the lights are dimmed.

3. You can’t bring plastic soda bottles out of the venue; you have to pour the remnants into a paper cup before leaving (at least at jobing.com arena in Glendale).

4. People become obsessed with taking camera phone pictures of the band from hundreds of feet away that usually end up looking like nothing more than a bright blur, but the individual who took the shot will insist they can identify members of the band.

5. The security team always includes a woman in her 70’s. Why is Nana working nights?

6. Even if the show is at the end of a band’s tour, they are still so passionate and engaged in the performance. I want to be that passionate about something someday.

7. Encores. Why build anticipation at the end of the show? If you’re going to have these, do them in the beginning.
8. A beer costs $7. Mmmmrecession?
9. Cellphones have replaced lighters.
10. You have to get your hand stamped and wear a wristband for no apparent reason.
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I scream, you scream

Sunday afternoon I was reading on the couch and started hearing strange music. For a dessert fiend like myself the sound was immediately identifiable as an ice cream truck. I peered through the blinds and sure enough, an ice cream truck was making it’s way down our street. Seriously, was I dreaming this? I live on a street where there’s an ice cream man? HEAVEN!

Unfortunately, in the midst of my excitement I missed it altogether, but vowed that I would do better given another opportunity. As luck would have it, i didn’t have to wait very long.

Yesterday before dinner I heard the magical chimes once again. This time Jim heard them too, and before I could even grab my wallet he had flown out the door and across the street. It was like the Pied Piper was in town; children were mindlessly flocking to him as though they’d been brainwashed. Jim stood in line behind several children a quarter of his age (yes, he let them go first) and returned home with a Strawberry Shortcake bar and a Drumstick.

It baffles me while making me completely happy, that ice cream trucks still exist today. And that they still have the same treats they sold when I was six. And that I still react to them like they’re giving away free cars.

I sincerely hope that when I have children these are still a thriving enterprise.

Timeline of a storm (with dogs)

3:34 a.m. – Thunder and lightening begin; dogs wake up, begin running in and out of the house via doggy door. Jim and I wake up from the combination of noises.

3:48 a.m. – It starts pouring; dogs are completely enthralled and insist on running outside into the mud and then conveniently track it all over the carpet.

3:53 a.m. – Jim loses virtual coin toss (because he’s the boy) and has to get out of bed, bring the dogs inside and clean the mud off their paws.

4 a.m. to 4:56 a.m. – Dogs run around the house hyper as can be and yipping, annoyed that they can no longer play outside.

5:37 a.m. – Storm subsides, dogs finally pass out.

6:22 a.m. – Both dogs wake up and insist on going back outside and I let them. This was a psych out; I was convinced they had to go to the bathroom, they knew this, and played it up so they could go play in the puddles. I have given up on getting any more sleep at this point as alarm is set to go off at 6:35.

6:46 a.m. – I go outside and play in the mud with both of them, getting completely filthy but loving it. Bruno stuck his entire head into a deep mud puddle and then rolled around in the grass, spreading it all over himself. Molly laid down in the doggy pool (full of rain water) and was soaked from head to toe.

Needless to say, both of them will be outdoors all day and will need baths before bed.

Things that fascinate me about sporting events:

1. The reactions people have when they discover themselves on the Jumbo-tron.

2. The amount of alcohol people can consume on weeknights.

3. The fact that adults will scream “you suck” to perfect strangers. This includes players and fans of the opposing team.

4. The phenomena that men can eat and drink for the entire duration of the game and never have to go to the bathroom.

5. There never seems to be a shortage of adults who want to pose with the team mascot.

6. People have the audacity to text during the National Anthem.

7. Regardless of the weather or the individual’s physique, there’s always a hairy shirtless man who yells at the officials.

8. The sheer number of mullets.

9. People who would refuse to consume a hotdog in any other scenario will immediately give in and enjoy one.

10. Tens of thousands of people will cooperate to execute the wave, and then try to kill each to exit the parking garage first.

11. No matter how old I get, who’s playing or what mood I’m in, there’s always something purely exciting about attending a live event.

bargain vet

When we adopted Molly at the Humane Society, they micro chipped her on the spot for only $25, plus a $16.95 registration fee we paid on our own when we registered her. For any non pet owners, having your furry friend chipped is a permanent form of identification. Basically every shelter and vet in the country has a chip scanner that can immediately identify the pet’s owner and contact info. I used to think it was creepy, but it’s actually pretty genius.

I can’t imagine my panic if the dogs were ever lost, but it happens all the time and the chip can be a life saver. In fact, in Arizona, if your dog is picked up as a stray by Animal Control but has a chip, they never even have to go to the shelter; they’re driven directly to you for return.

I’d wanted to get Bruno chipped too, considering he’s a complete flight risk, but hadn’t wanted to pay the $120 at the vet for it (plus $16.95 registration). Then I found out the Humane Society does it all for $30 for outside clients. Only downside is it’s walk-ins only, and only on Fridays.

I packed a book and set off yesterday with Bruno. When we arrived there were easily 50 dogs ahead of us in line. There was a number machine like you find at deli counters and some very interesting people in line. Sigh. TGIF.

After nearly three hours we were called and got the chip in within two minutes. It wasn’t fun, but we saved almost $90 bucks. Bruno and I were both filthy and exhausted, but I’d still recommend this for the colossal savings; they also spay/neuter and vaccinate for a fraction of regular costs.

This show makes me feel icky.

I’m not even sure how to start this because I’m bothered on so many levels. The new FOX show, More to Love, is touting it self as an “inspirational series” about “one regular guy’s search for love among a group of real women determined to prove that love comes in all shapes and sizes.” Sounds ok, right?

Here’s what’s wrong with this picture: the premise of the show is a search for love among ordinary people and breaking the mold of the typical reality TV star. That’s great, but the producers apparently associate “ordinary” with “obese.”

Every female contestant competing for Luke’s love and affection is substantially overweight. Their ages, height and weight are displayed on screen along with the individual’s name during each monologue. I think it’s ironic that while we’re trying to get away from focusing on weight and looks it’s the central point of the show.

Had I been consulted to cast for this show (sadly I wasn’t), I wouldn’t have selected only overweight women. I’d go farther outside the box than weight range. What about a woman who’s been divorced, is independently wealthy, has children, survived cancer, is an immigrant or who is transgender? I think that all of those things and a million more comprise today’s ordinary woman, but maybe no one wants to watch that.

The producers of this show have tried to show that even women who don’t meet the traditional stereotype of beauty can find love…but only with a fat guy. They make it so black and white I want to gag. Beautiful or ugly. Skinny or fat. Do or die.

Having overweight female contestants compete for a proposal from an overweight man sends the message that it’s all they’re deserving of, and that fat people most certainly belong together. This makes me sad. Giant step backwards.

Jerome Wineries

“Located high on top of Cleopatra Hill (5,200 feet) between Prescott and Flagstaff is the historic copper mining town of Jerome, Arizona. Once known as the wickedest town in the west, Jerome was a copper mining camp, growing from a settlement of tents to a roaring mining community. Four disastrous fires destroyed large sections of the town during its early history, resulting in the incorporation of the City of Jerome in 1899.