Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Montegna

Random notes from our trip to Bozeman, Montana, set up by Manada and I to surprise Paul on his 31st birthday. (Or 32nd, if you believe the mistaken birthday card from his own mother. Good ol' Suddenly Susan, she never disappoints.)

- I was hoping to drop a couple pounds or so before a wedding next weekend, since I got my measurements a few months ago and I need to fit into this suit, but instead I gorged myself like it was....well, actually it was kind of a standard weekend for me. However, it was noteworthy because every meal I ate during the weekend was outstanding. Report card:

Quesadilla at Mesa Verde in Denver airport: A, borderline A+

Buffalo wings at Chico Hot Springs Poolside Grill: A

Lobster sliders at Copper Whiskey: A+++

Pizza & wings at Tarantino's: A for pizza, A+ for wings

Paul's homemade tuna casserole: A++

I can always leave my pants unbuttoned at the wedding anyway; I'm pretty sure that's why they invented belts.


- Paul and I had a stalking session on Facebook that would've made any online predator proud. What started as an innocent "Whatever happened to _____?" quickly spiraled into creeping HARD on every random schoolmate we could think of from first grade and up. It started while Teens and Manada were taking a nap, but it continued well into the evening, long after they had woken up, and what had started as shameful morphed into shameless. Soon we were all enjoying the conversation that included sentences like "What was the name of that girl in middle school who had ringworm?" and "I would've bet a lot of money that chick Randi from Kuz's 5th grade class would've turned out hot....got that one wrong."


- If I dare say so, the Red Sox Hate Pendulum might be swinging back to the positive juuuuust a little bit. Back when they won it all in 2004, there were a TON of people that were happy for me. They were the lovable underdogs, and they took down the universally-hated Yankees on their way to winning their first championship in 86 years. For various reasons (a large payroll, media overkill, bandwagon fans, a second championship, Ben Affleck, and just good old-fashioned hatred of a team stemming from continued success) the Red Sox became about as hated nationally as the Yankees. The last few years, anytime I was wearing any Red Sox gear in public, I could guarantee at least one dirty look from a stranger.





After the crazy Red Sox rally in Game 2 Sunday night, I was wearing my Red Sox hat during our flights back to Kansas the next day. Although I did receive a mean-mugging or two (Yeah, brosef in the flat-brim Cardinals hat, I see you too, guy) what stood out was that I had four different congratulatory conversations with strangers, all initiated by the other person. It felt like 2004 all over again. Maybe a couple down-and-out years have lessened the Red Sox hate a little bit.

(Side note: One new experience I had this weekend was celebrating a crazy comeback and walk-off playoff win with a toddler sleeping upstairs. During Big Papi's homer, I involuntarily lept out of my seat and jumped around a bit, but I was able to keep the volume at an acceptable level....whereas if I was at home, I would've sprinted around the house, yelling and spraying beer....and if I was back in college at Culligan Manor, I would've punched all my roommates in the balls, inadvertently torched a few cars in the Chucky B's parking lot while trying to set off fireworks from the roof, and broke up with whoever I was dating via text so I could "concentrate more on the rest of the ALCS." Progress. Making progress.)


- While Paul and I were digging through old photo albums and searching for yearbooks (I told you, this was a Hall-of-Fame creeping sesh) we came across this gem, from one of Paul's birthday parties, one of my favorite pictures of all time.


Me, RJ, ADawg (obscuring Aubol), Fundy, Paul, Marto, and Scott (who is dangerously close to getting defriended on Facebook-- no, I don't want to play Lucky Slots, SCOTT.)

How 'bout my giant glasses? How 'bout my shirt with the huge Lynx/Panther/Cougar/Mystery animal? How 'bout our Bambino Baseball All-Star hats? Every single person who owned that hat wore it down to absolute shreds, since there was no better way at the time to impress girls (besides baller-ass rollerblading skills) than to show you were a little league all-star. If anyone still has their hat buried in their old bedroom at their parent's house or something, I'll give them $100 for it, right now.


- I finally got to meet Leah, and she is adorable, not to mention hilarious. One could make the argument that she already has better comedic timing and fresher material than her father. In fact, I think Manada already makes that argument.