We Always Have a White Christmas and That's Cool, But This Is Ridiculous...

There's really only one reason I'd wake up on a May morning and five minutes after peeling the sleep from mine eyes, throw my arms up and proclaim, "You have GOT to be fucking KIDDING ME, DUDE!"



Who this dude I'm so pissed at is, I have no idea. But come on. At this point, I could do without six inches of snow. Really.

Oh yeah, and half of those beautimous trees in that photo? Must go. Stupid fucking pine beetle. Luckily, all those trees are blocking a pretty cool view, so weeding out a few won't be such a horrible thing. Just, possibly, a horribly time consuming and maybe a little expensive thing. Depending on how many Zube Boy can manage to fall and haul with his big old honking '52 Dodge. Anyway, upset as I might be about the tedious business of removing the trees, I'm of the mind that the pine beetles are nature's last attempt to thin out the forest. We've prevented forest fires for way too long. It's nature's way.

On another note, I sometimes wonder if Eminem, like, throws in one of his cd's every once in a while and cleans out his sock drawer or something. After gazing longingly at pictures of yours truly, of course. I mean, I know he's all famous and shit, but even if I were famous for my voice, I have a feeling I would still probably dial zero for the hotel office with lightning speed because I can't stand the fact that it is my voice on my work's answering machine. "Thank you for calling Blah Blah Management..." AHHHHHHHHHHHH! It's what Zube nightmares are made of, people. If hell is your worst fear, I'd probably have to listen to myself for all of eternity. Every new person we hire, I am the first to announce what a lovely voice they have. I have yet to be successful in passing off this onerous task. I don't know. I was thinking maybe Eminem gets totally over himself, too, and that's one more thing we have in common. In addition to liking the word 'fuck' a lot.

I didn't mean to leave you hanging regarding Zee Baby's little tree trunk legs, but things were up in the air for a bit. We've decidet to take her to The Children's Hospital in Denver next Thursday. The day before her one year birthday. They're going to evaluate her gross motor skills. I'm really not too worried as she's been making her way around pretty well and standing more (with assistance). But it will be nice to have confirmation that there is or isn't a problem. And if there is, we'll work on it. Nothing more to it.

We had her pictures taken for her one year birthday and this is my favorite pose...


The photographer joked that she absolutely had to take one like that because each time she attempted to pose Zee in another manner, Zee defaulted to this one. The photographer said it just seemed to be Zee. And it is. Hence this being my favorite photo of the bunch.

No matter how prepared we are for this evaluation, I've never been one to turn down some good luck wishes.

I was in Jersey last week. It rocked socks. I adore my family. As if you didn't know that. A gratuitous photo...



My Belle, Bro and me and the infamous grandchild trifecta. And you know what? I know, or at least I'm pretty sure, I'm using the term trifecta incorrectly. But I don't have the heart to look up the definition because it just sounds so fucking cool. If anyone feels the need to correct me, though, I promise not to cry. I wore my big girl panties today. And they're not twisted or anything. I might still carry on in blissful, feigned ignorance if you do correct me. Just a warning.

Well, it's still fucking snowing. Dammit. I'm out. To make snow angels. Hopefully the last of the season. Yah. Sure. As if. This is the Rocky Mountains after all.

Random Bits

Today I saw seven skiers, skis askew over their shoulders, walking paintstakingly in their ski boots out the lobby doors on their way to the chairlift. They were all in line. Upon seeing them, I instinctively started to sing, "Hi-ho, hi-ho..." I don't think they thought I was as funny as I did.

Last week a coworker and I were trying to nickname the seven people in the office. We were short one nickname, so I called my Mom.

Ring-Ring

Mom: Hello.

Z-Girl: Okay, so Doc, Dopey, Grumpy, Sleepy, Happy, and Sneezy. Who am I missing?

Mom: Umm, let me think, Doc, Happy, um, Bashful!

Z-Girl: Thanks.

You know, I could look these things up on the internet, but it's just not the same. Oh, I'm Doc, by the way. What can I say, I got first pick.

I'm feeling just awful for poor little Zee. She's got a raw tushie. Not that that's the kind of thing you prolly want to know, but hell, who asked you? Diaper rash sucks. And what kills me, is she's been absolutely cheery throughout the hole (Umm, not entirely an inappropriate typo) thing. I mean, I know how crotchety I get when my bung-hole is a little itchy and her whole ass is on fire and she's still smiling. What a trooper. I think she enjoys the 'Naked Time' I've implemented with the express interest of airing out her bottom. Come to think of it, who doesn't enjoy 'Naked Time'? Eh well, we're working on this diaper rash deal as best we can. Anyone have any suggestions? I was going to assk (Haha! Okay, these typos are killing me.) the Mommas, but I'm sure that anyone out there is capable of tossing out an amusing cure for what ails my poor little Zee. And that, my friends, I Am asking you. Whether you wanted to hear about this debacle or not.

This post was brought to you by Capitol Z

PS - Just fair warning...If you're considering 'dropping in' on someone who works in the ski industry in MARCH to discuss your future event, think again. Howz about you try calling and making an appointment. And it just might not be possible for another week or so. Certainly, it would impress you to know that the person you're wanting to meet with is MORE CONCERNED with the events she has currently taking place than ones that are in the future. Wouldn't you expect people to give your the same courtesy when she is busy attending to your event?

You Know What's Stupid?

Pulling a little metal fragment out of your foot and throwing it back on the floor. In front of you.

You know what else is stupid? The fucking weather. But not me. Oh no. I'm not stupid. In fact, I have found the SOLUTION to drought. No, really. I have. I'm like a one woman scientist/spy/model/wet-hair-putter-on-the-shower-waller fucking ARMY. I am. See, the weather up here in los montañas has been pretty shitty. Well, it's actually been really fucking beautiful out, but apparently the trees are parched and they need some rain all up in their asses. Or roots. Which is kind of a bad situation when there are trees every-damn-where. Surrounding big ass million dollar second homes with numbskull rich-bitch owners who refuse cut down the trees in the line of fire, quite literally, to their homes because they don't want to ruin the AMBIANCE of their 'little cabin in the woods'. Bitch please. With ten god damn bathrooms and an indoor sauna? I think not. I'll show you a little cabin in the woods. Where you can take a nice undisturbed shit in the little outhouse about thirty feet away. It's the kind of place where people actually used to LIVE but now we only go there for a brief foray and romp in the forest so we can return to our REAL house and take a damn shower already.

Although, true to the nature of a little cabin in the woods, you do only visit YOUR abode briefly. Once at Christmas. And then maybe once in the summer. Because SUMMER? It EXISTS in the mountains? My GOD! HOW COOL! There really IS a Breckenridge in the summertime when the ski resort isn't open! As is evidenced by the ASSLOAD of cars that turned my typical five minute commute home yesterday into a half an hour one. Yes! Summer in the mountains. Wow. Well, just a quick gaperish kind of question for you. How much less do the mountains WEIGH in the summer without the snow? Actually, I'm not joking about that question. Zube Boy was asked that. By a teacher. Who wanted to tell her students. He, after a moment of silence, told her that the scale had been out of order since he started working there. Jesus H. Where's my I Digress MUCH wand? I'd like a cape, too, while you're at it...

I was sayin'? Ah yes. Fire. And danger. There's a little Smokey the Bear sign we see upon entering town that keeps us abreast to the current Fire Danger level. Right now he's sportin' a VERY HIGH warning.

But not for long. Oh no. You know why? Because we have brought on torrential rains since, uh, Friday I think. And it didn't even require dancing naked on Main Street wearing only a big red clown nose. All we had to do was SCRAPE and PRIME our house! Easy peasy. Now? We're stuck with an even SHITTIER looking paint job than what we started out with. Chipped gray with streaks of bright white. Yum. I bet the neighbors love us. They'll love us even more when they find out we rented it out to three dudes. Heh. But that's a whole 'nother post.

Peace out. I'm gonna go dance naked on Main Street with a clown nose to make the torrential afternoon rains go the hell away. Or maybe I'll just watch a parade. And have a beer. Happy Fourth.

My Head Hurts...

If any of you are vying for the crown of Worst Blogger in the Blogverse, you'll have to pry that tiara from my cold dead fingers.

It's mine, bitches.

Would you like to see our walk-in closet?


Yes. That's a toilet.

The master bedroom is tore up. We've hired a friend to fix it. The master bath is now, uh, our closet.

We close on our second house on Wednesday. Did I mention that I feel like a total money-grubbing asshole buying a second house? Like I'm fucking up the local real estate Sitiation? Well, I do. The bleeding heart? Maybe sometimes I do have it. Though I profess not to be that kind of liberal.

Anyway, closing costs are $6,000. Ramen, anyone?

We've put an ad in the paper to rent it out. The most promising response we've gotten so far has been, "Are you negotiable on the rent?"

I've been working like a bitch. 'Mud Season' is officially over and now we're entering upon 'Wedding/Family Reunion" Season. I'm swamped.

Last but not least, my little Zoey is missing. That's the first time I've admitted that to myself. I kind of don't want to believe that she's been gone for longer than three days.

With all of this happenin', I'm trying to avoid the spontaneous combustion dealymabob. Bear with me. Or don't. Your choice. This blog-bustion has been a long time coming. I'm over being sad and dwelling and shit, but I don't have anything amusing to report. In fact, all I have to report is some relatively overwhelming shit.

I've had a hard enough time keeping up with We 3 Bitches. See, I don't want Bonanza and P-Chef to think I'm all sucky bitch, so The Adventures of Zube Girl is playing second fiddle.

I really miss blogging, but I certainly miss my sanity more.

And She's Off...And Running...Is It April Yet?

DAYUM, I'm busy! Babies born, honey's birthday's had, marital un-bliss, and sweaty, drunk college kids. Don't mind me. I'm just farting around March and neglecting my blog.

Little Alexandria Jade was born and she's 5lbs 13 oz of beautiousness. Love her. And Miss I and The Englishman are just going to ROCK at the Mommy and Daddy thing! I know it. And I am going to be the best fucking Aunt Zube EVER!

Speaking of birthdays, Zube Boy's was yesterday. We went to our favorite bar and ordered our favorite meal (cheesesteaks that are, like, REAL cheesesteaks, but in Colorado...and I'm from Jersey, I know a real cheesesteak when I see one). After cheesesteaks, we went out for ice cream at Coldstone. Zube Boy made fun of me because I wanted the Cocoa Banana Cabana, and was all embarrassed ordering it. I asked him if he would order it for me, but he pulled out his "It's My Birthday So I Don't Have to Order My Wife's Embarrassing Ice Cream Named Dessert" card. You know. Similar to the Get Out of Jail FREE!" card. Yeah. Anyway, we had a ton of fun.

Let's see, what else. Oh yeah, Zube Boy and I are having marital negotiations right now. We're kind of fighting. But don't worry, it's funny. Well, at least it's funny if you're not me. After five years of pretty much sleeping on specific sides of the bed, I want to change. But Zube Boy's not digging it. He calls bullshit on my, "But MY side is the GHOSTY side of the bed!" whining. I'm working on him though. Seriously. One night I accidentally fell asleep on his side and I got THE BEST SLEEP EVAH! I didn't even have to wrap my head up all burrito-like in the comforter and I didn't wake up ONCE in the middle of the night worrying about ghosts touching my nose. So, I concluded that my side of the bed is haunted. Logically, since Zube Boy doesn't believe in ghosts, AND he loves me, the conclusion I came to was that he should sleep on my side from now on. I'm not getting very far.

So, it's March. Or rather, it's SPRING BREAK 2006!!! Which means that I am swamped yet again by various church groups and college groups and a commute to and from work that somehow manages to extend from six minutes to twenty. Just know that if you are fond of visiting the Zube, she will be sure to disappoint this month. But, not to worry. She'll be back in April with a vengeance. Work is going to be insane for the next few weeks, and I'm going to be doing my best to keep up with that. Which means I'll likely be doing my worst at keeping up with my blog.

Well, PEACE OUT, homies!

Sometimes I Get Wheely, Wheely Annoyed...Heh...That Was Maybe the Lamest Title Ever...

The other day, we were having snow removed from the back parking lot at work. As always, there was a vehicle there without a parking pass. We had every right to have it towed, but we always make an attempt to find the errant parker by calling some of the condos in the vicinity. See, no matter whether it is our right to tow them, invariably the towee gets twelve shades of bitter and goes on a rampage about how unfair we are and how we enjoy towing people and pissing them off, ad nauseum. That's never fun. Pissed off people aren't fun. Why people insist we relish in ruining their day is beyond me.

Anywho, I was calling various condos and asking if they might happen to possess a blue Durango which might happen to be parked in the back driveway and might happen to not have a parking pass on it. Most folks simply said no. One lady in particular irritated the daylights out of me.

Z-Girl: Hi! I was wondering, do you happen to have a blue Durango parked in the back driveway without a tag?

Lady: *disgustedly* Uck! NO! WE have a HUMMER!

Z-Girl: Oh. Sorry.

And I meant it. There are Hummers EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE around here. They make me bonkers. To say that I despise them would be an understatement of epic proportions. I mean, why get an $80,000 vehicle that LOOKS like it should be offroading but is too fucking nice and EXPENSIVE to actually get dirty and fuck up? It's silliness.

So, Lady, I'm sorry your hubby had to buy a car named after something he wishes he was getting more of.

The other day, this guy grabbed a luggage cart from next to the elevator, looked over at me, and asked, "Excuse me, but do these fit on the elevator?"

I replied, "No, you have to use the stairs." Heh. It took him a minute, but eventually he laughed. Because really, what would be the point of having luggage carts with wheels to schlep your belongings to your room if they didn't fit on the elevator?

Need advice? We Three Bitches need advisees. E-mail us at wethreebitches [at] yahoo [dot] com. Perty please. No question is beyond our infinite knowledge. Obviously.

Oh, in case you were wondering, I'm not going to go anon. I guess if I get found by the one person I don't want to find me, I'll make the best of it. 'Cause I'm kind of a survivor like that. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

Shit and, uh, Other Nonsense

-Someone popped a squat in the stairwell at work and let loose their bowels. And I'm not talking about a dignified solid shit. I'm talking ass spray. All over the metal heater thing and the floor, covering about a square foot of area. People are fucking disgusting.

-Zack's runner (leash thingy that lets him prance about the yard semi-impeded but unattended) goes from our back porch around the back of the house. The snow has gotten so high that he's been refusing to ascend it. So. He's started doing his business right on the porch. Lazy ass dog. This morning I didn't bother putting him on the runner. If all of the neighbors dogs get to poop in our yard, he can poop in theirs.

-I've been talking to my uterus lately. I think she's scared. I get my most soothing voice going, and say, "It's okay, honey. I know that when we had a visitor a long time ago it was a bad thing, but this time it's okay. You don't have to kick the visitors out, all right?" I hope this open communication works.

-Nope, I'm not knocked up. I'm just talking to my uterus, 'kay? I mean, what else am I supposed to do to make her feel better? Surprise her with a day at the spa for a massage and a mud bath? I think not. Heh. That would make for an interesting phone call, though.

-I think I'm going to try snowboarding again this year. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment.

-I have to go to court today as a witness in a custody battle. I'm REALLY fucking nervous. I've never done anything like this.

-Oh yeah, I had a dream last night that Zube Boy and I bought a digger (one of those yellow one-seater construction things that digs holes) from some crazy dentist guy. Anyway, I got dropped off to pick it up and, well, I don't really know how to drive stick so I was having a little trouble, and the crazy dentist guy was chasing me with a needle. I was running late for court because I couldn't get the damn thing to move. The chase was pretty funny, like that scene in Seinfeld where George is being chased by all the old people on the mobile chair things? I was all lurching in my digger and the dentist was all old running real slow after me with the needle drawn. Heh.

Anyway, after I finished telling Zube Boy about my dream he said, "Huh, that's weird. I had a dream we had a digger, too, and I was driving it around the ski area." HOW FUCKING CUTE IS THAT?! We both dreamt we got a digger. Awww.

Wanna See My Buns?

Well here they are, you freakin' perverts...


They're kind of blurry, but you get the idea. And I was SCRATCHING the TIP of the inside of my nose. NOT picking it. Jeebus. Don't you people have husbands with trick cameras, too?!

You know, Zack is SO going to freak out when our Roomba gets delivered.


Could scaring the piss out of your pooch with a vacuum cleaner be considered cruelty to animals?

Going to work when the moon is out fucking sucks...


And it's often a bit chillier at that hour, too.

I was digging the view from my desk today.


Fortunately, I wasn't DIGGING through a foot of ice while standing on a roof today. Though the view may have been better from up there. Arguably.

Sometimes I like to tell myself that the summertime is not SO far away and soon we'll be camping and four-wheeling and shit...



...then I go outside and realize that we can't even SEE one of the four-wheelers OR the pop-up camper and the only four-wheeler we can see is, uh, on top of a flatbed trailer. Then, camping and shit seems MUCH further away.

I haven't talked much about the snow because I figger you all get sick of hearing about it, but FOR REAL! WITH THE SNOW! It's insane. And I love it. So, so pretty.

Keep it real gals and guys. Oh yeah. One more thing. Tomorrow is the ten year anniversary. I wonder if I'll cry? I haven't yet. And I'm not so much feeling it either. But, that's usually the way it is. It sort of side-swipes me like a hefty bag of rocks out of nowhere in the middle of the afternoon. Oh well. I'm always up for a good healthy cry. Especially one that celebrates how far I've come.

Peace out, punks!

Rock-a-Bye Drunk College Fuckers. Heh.

WHEE! I did it! As of yesterday, all 200 college students were all checked in and snuggled safely in their beds, or, uh, running around the property piss drunk and butt-ass naked, to the chagrin of other guests, but anyway. My part's done. I book 'em and get 'em in. Then they're the front desk's problem. Until the damage report comes in. Then they're my problem again. But that's five days away. In the meantime, I'm going to breathe.

Sometimes, after saying shit over and over and over and over again, my tongue gets tied.

Z-Girl: Do you know where Ski Slope Condos is?

College Kid: Nope.

Z-Girl: *pointing to a map* Okay, you'll make a left at this stop, a left at this light, a left here onto Blah Blah Avenue, and you'll see the condoms, uh, miniums, um, I mean, condomsminiums...Damn. The condominiums will be on your right.

College Kid: Hahahahahaha!

Z-Girl: Shut up! It's been a long day for me! Now go to your room. Hee.

Is This Love? Or am I Dream...Having a Nightmare?

I realized that I've never shared an artistic rendition of Zube Boy with you. I decided to draw a picture of us emptying the dishwasher. Well, one of us at least.


In other news, I have my head so far up my ass these days that it's nearly made its way up through my digestive tract, and will likely soon be erupting out of my mouth. Whatever the fuck that means. I'll tell you what it means for you, though. I'm still sucking with responding to your comments AND checking your blogs. I'm sorry. Life first, I guess.

I'm moving hundreds of people in and out of the hotel at a shocking rate. I always forget during the summer when I'm all chillin' like a villian at work just how insanely busy the winters really are. Notice I started this blog in March. And didn't post very much at that. Hence the tight relationship my head and my ass seem to be rocking.

Well, DUH!

Ring-Ring

Z-Girl: Blah Blah Management, this is Zube Girl.

Dumbass: Hi. I was wondering, is the ski resort open today?

Z-Girl: Um, yes?

Dumbass: Are you sure? It snowed all last night, and it's still snowing this morning.

Z-Girl: Uh, the ski resort is pretty well equipped to deal with snow.

Dumbass: Okay, thanks!

Z-Girl: Right. No problem.

Right Across the Street Means Right Across the Street You Fucking Moron!

Or, to put it nicely...

Guest: Where is the chairlift?

Z-Girl: Right across the street.

Guest: Across the street?

Z-Girl: Yup. Right across the street.

Guest: Where exactly is the street?

Z-Girl: If you step out those two doors right there, you'll see a street and the chairlift will be right across it.

Guest: So the street is right out there?

Z-Girl: Yup.

Guest: Will we be able to see it?

Z-Girl: Yes, as soon as you step out the front doors.

Guest: What if we can't find it?

Z-Girl: You will. It's right outside those doors.

Guest: *looking skeptical (or stupid, depending on who you ask)*

Z-Girl: Here, I'll show you.

Guest: Okay.

I walk them out the front doors and point across the street. To the place where there is, lo and behold, a fucking chairlift.

Guest: Oh wow. It is right there.

Z-Girl: Just like I said. RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET.

Guest: Thanks!

Z-Girl: You're welcome.

I'm a Plunger...

You guys, I think my fucking feet are going to fall off. Seriously. The church groups up in this here hotel are running me ragged. And I'm loving every minute of it. But still.

You know what kicks ass? When young men call the front desk to say that their toilet is clogged and they don't want to plunge it, and the maintenence guys are busting their asses shoveling snow so you don't want to bother them, and you decide to take care of that shit your damn self. It really makes the story if you're a chick. And you're dressed all cute. Just so you know. Anyway, you knock on their door, head to the bathroom, roll up your sleeves and unclog the bitch while all of the virile young men watch. With the most ashamed look on their mugs. Heh. Love it.

And I'm telling you, there is nothing like hot Episcopalian youth ministers who say fuck and drink beer. My faith in some of God's Fan Club has been restored a little. I'm still having trouble resisting the leg-humping urge.

I Swear to God...

Episcopalians are the fucking bomb. I shit you not.

The Scene: I've just finished checking a church group into the hotel. They're about to head off and my coworker makes a wisecrack about my perfection and wonderfullness.

Z-Girl: You guys are all set. I'll deal with the smart-alec over here.

Group Leader: Oh yeah, well I've got to deal with a bunch of smart ASSES.

Z-Girl: Tee hee. You guys cuss?!

Group Leader: Oh yeah. Shit, damn, fuck. I'm Episcopalian. Jesus loves me God dammit. Where's the nearest liquor store?

Z-Girl: I think I love you. You're lucky I'm married, or I'd hump your leg.

I Feel Pretty

Z-Boy: Here honey.

Z-Girl: What the hell is this?

Z-Boy: $2.00.

Z-Girl: What, pray tell, am I going to buy with $2.00?

Z-Boy: I don't know. Get yourself something pretty.

Z-Girl: $2.00 isn't going to get me anything pretty.

Z-Boy: Well, maybe you could buy yourself some make up or something.

Z-Girl: Piss off.

I realize I haven't answered your comments from yesterday. I apologize. I have eight ski groups arriving in the next four days, so I'm fucking swamped. Things'll settle in the middle of next week. I'm not whining about it. In fact, I dig being busy as shit because it makes the day go quicker. Plus, my boss kicks righteous ass, and even though I'm salary which usually means you can work all you want for the same amount of money, she lets me accrue comp time. So maybe Zube Boy and I will get to take a nice long weekend jaunt in January or something. If he's still lucky enough to be married to my ass. Anyway...

Today's entry was going to be a photo of my desk, which looks like gnomes have set up camp and built themselves elaborate paper houses on it. And then there was a tornado in Gnome Town. All the gnomes flew up in the air and are probably dead. Which, well, good. Fuck 'em. Evil little bitches.

But now I'm left with all this paper and shit everywhere.

Unfortunately, though, my camera won't upload photos onto my work computer, so you won't be able to see it.

Edited to Add:

So as not to leave you picture-less today, I've drawn up a little something for my other half, and I'd like to share it with you. Do you think he'll like it?


It's sort of Picassoesque in its absractness, don't you think?

I'm Seeing White...

There are some new people I've been seeing 'round these parts, and always attempting to be polite, I'd like to say HOWDY, even though I don't know who you are (Washington, Texas, Arizona and then some). Feel free to say hello. I promise we don't bite here. (And by WE, I mean my readers and I don't bite...Some of my various personalities just may...I'm not making any fucking promises.)


Add 7 to that shitty number up there and that is our predicted HIGH for tomorrow. And, need I remind you that when you add a positive numeral to a negative numeral you actually subtract? Yeah. I didn't have to blow the basic math teacher to get a B. Now, Algebra...

Heh. Just kidding.

Seriously! I'm just kidding...


Z-Girl: So, honey, I was thinking that an icicle would make the perfect murder weapon. Just get a hairdryer and melt that shit when you're done. No fingerprints. No murder weapon. You're golden.

Z-Boy: Why would you be thinking about that?

Z-Girl: No reason.


Check out our new TV. And yes. That is Fox News. I know I'm a liberal, but I take turns watching all of the news channels. Evens me out. Or feeds my addiction to being annoyed. Whatever.

Anyway, some dumbass sold this three-year-old 55" TV to us for $200 because the picture was too red. He thought it was broken. Zube Boy just had to adjust the color. That's it. Perfect picture and everything. Zube Boy thought he was going to have to rip the guts out and fix it; maybe buy a part or two. And it STILL would have been worth $200. Thank goddess for idiots.


See those white stripes? That's where my honey rides his snowmobile around all day waiting for chairlifts to break down so he can work his fucking electrician magic. This is the view from our street. Sometimes I like to wave to him while he's working. He never knows, though, until he gets home and I tell him. Unappreciative bastard.

Pssssssst...if ANY of my readers are interested in a ski trip like, RIGHT FUCKING NOW (or within the next couple of weeks) you should really, really e-mail me because we are throwing some AMAZING specials out there to move some leftover shit we've got. And I swear, I don't mean to go all salespersony on your ass, but these lodging deals are amazing.

Did You Know That Idiots Ski, Too?

I work at a ski lodge. I LOVE my job, I really, really do. And though I might be known to utter the word 'gaper' under my breath while driving behind the yahoo whose navigating icy roads whilst videotaping the mountains, I'm, for the most part, nice to tourists. They pay my paycheck even in a roundabout way if they don't stay at my hotel and make my town a nice place to live with all of the tax money they bring in.

What's that? Oh, a gaper? What's a gaper you say? A gaper is a tourist round these parts. I don't know exactly where the moniker was derived from but it's rumored that they are called such because they gape at the mountains or at the locals skiing like maniacs. Something like that.

Despite my self-professed appreciation of tourists, they can be dumb as shit. Which I suppose a larger part of the population is, so I'm not too surprised. Here's what I mean...

The Scene: I'm at the front desk and Dizzy Broad is attempting to go to her room with her skis just after checking in.

Z-Girl: Um, excuse me. Ma'am. Hi. We have free ski lockers in the garage, let me get you a lock for one. Skis aren't supposed to be brought to your room.

Dizzy Broad: Well, that's stupid. I want them in my room.

Z-Girl: I'm sorry, you can't do that.

Dizzy Broad: Why?

Z-Girl: They scratch up the hallways and ruin the carpets.

Dizzy Broad: Well, I'll be careful.

Z-Girl: It's not really an option to be careful. See that sign right next to the elevator that says, "No skis allowed in units. Please see the front desk for a free ski locker." If you want to bring your skis to your room, EVERYONE will want to bring their skis to their room.

Dizzy Broad: *whining* But they'll get COOOOOOOOOOOLD.

Z-Girl: *actually rendered speechless*

I never said another word. The reason being, I was afraid if I parted my lips even in the slightest, "You fucking idiot, I hope you have really LONG extension cords to plug into your precious wussy skis to keep them warm while you ski tomorrow because the SNOW you are skiing on is going to make your skis COLD as SHIT!" would escape.

Yeah, she got an idiot pass. And, might I add, you're not supposed to keep skis at room temperature because then when you ski, the first few minutes kind of suck because snow collects on your skis. But, fuck her. I hope she had the equivalent of two supine mammoth snowmen on her fucking feet. HA!

****************************************************

The Scene: A mother is towing her three young children into the hotel lobby.

Frazzled Mom: Will you kids hurry up?! I have GOT to get out of this altitude.

That's right, the hotel is pressurized. We're technologically advanced like that.

****************************************************

The Scene: It's early fall with not much snow on the ground yet. I'm in the grocery store parking lot, and a very confused couple approaches me.

Mr. Confused: Excuse me, but do you live here?

Z-Girl: Yep.

Mrs. Confused: Well, we have a really stupid question.

Z-Girl: Fire away.

Mr. Confused: Okay, see that big spot of snow over there? We can't figure out why it's only snowed in one spot.

Z-Girl: *stifling her laughter* Well, that's man-made snow since we invariably don't get enough of the natural stuff in the beginning of the season. They make it on that one run because that's the first run we open up.

Mrs. Confused: Ohhhhhh. Another question. Was that the stupidest question anyone has ever asked you?

Z-Girl: Nope. And you prefaced it by saying it was probably stupid. That saved you.

Mr. Confused: Whew, thanks.

Z-Girl: No problem.

****************************************************

But you know, there's something to be said for the fact that I'm happier when I have something to bitch about. So thanks, I guess, to idiots everywhere.

And So It Begins...

The ski resort opened yesterday. Only, I couldn’t care less, and opening day of the ski resort marks the beginning of me being inundated with incredulous looks and disbelieving queries of, “What do you MEAN you live at a ski resort, but don’t ski or snowboard?!?!”

Since inquiring minds seem to want to know why I’m not a ski bunny, I’ve composed a list. Sort of a top ten, if you will, of the reasons why I do not hit the slopes.

10. Did I just say that I don't hit the slopes? That's a fallacy. I do hit the slopes. Most often with my ass or my face. Matter of fact, I seem to hit the slopes with anything BUT my snowboard. I don’t need to be hitting shit, unless, well, I’m married to it.

9. Now that I’m an adult I don't like doing things I suck at. I’m thirty and I rule at everything I do. Fuck the things I don’t do. Somebody else can rule those.

8. I look SO much cuter in my gear sitting at the bar sipping on gin and juice than I do face down in the snow. And you know what's weird? Even if I end up face down, I always seem to manage to have copious amounts of snow up my butt crack. I think it's the pre-faceplant rolls that cause this, though I can't be bothered to figure it out for certain.

7. Unless we're talking about shoes, I don't do well with activities that put something in between my feet and the ground and make me move faster than a snail's pace. Actually, even shoes are arguable. Well, I used to roller skate when I was like sixteen. But really, that was more of a cover to sneak out with boys Mom and Dad didn't like and drink Schlitz, so that doesn't count.

6. Zube Boy tried to teach me when we first started dating and he was so fucking SWEET and PATIENT. It was cool. Five years of being together has made the sweetness and patience fade. There are plenty of naturally occuring incidents that make him say, "Jesus H, honey! Quit yer freakin' whining!" I don't need to create more.

5. All of my friends are AWESOME skiers and snowboarders. This means that when I go with them, they usually lap me about three times before I make it bruised and battered to the bottom of the run. Or worse, they insist on keeping me company and end up doing circles around me and sighing a lot.

4. Tourists. They're every-fucking-where during the winter, but their primary hangout is at the ski area. I deal with them ALL. DAY. AT. WORK. Even I need a break from insanity once in a while.

3. Hot chocolate is JUST as yummy after a day of lounging in my warm and cozy house as it is after a day of riding. I'm sure of it. And, unless you forgot to put on your slippers over your socks and fall flat on your ass playing with the dog on the hardwood floors, you're not nearly as sore. Fucking hardwood floors.

2. It's so much easier to pee when all you have to pull down are your flannel pajama bottoms. Who wants to pull down wet undies, wet long underwear, more wet long underwear, wet sweatpants, and freezer burnt snow pants to pee, only to have to pull the wet undies, wet long underwear, more wet long underwear, wet sweatpants, and freezer burnt snow pants back up? Not me.

And the number one reason why I don't ski or ride...

1. I'm hot AND sexy. Hot and sexy people shouldn't fuck it up by making asses out of themselves. Did I also mention that I'm DRIPPING with sarcasm. No? Well, I am, lest you all think I'm a conceited twit.


Pssst...Make sure you check out the entry below. It's fucking important. Seriously.

We're Baaaack!

Oh Lord. What a trip! We're fucking exhausted. We finally arrived back to good old Colorado today, greeted by nothing other than &%!#$ snow. I left a trail behind me on our traveling path today. A cell phone in Jersey. A purse at a restaurant in Colorado on our way home.

And for all of those reasons, I do not quite feel up to telling you any of the stories I had anxiously anticipated sharing while in Puerto Rico. I can't say I miss muggy 90 degree weather, but I can't say that I'm happy to return to snow either.

I'm gonna mope a little and make myself a cocktail with some of the alcohol we bought at the airport's duty free shop.

I missed ya'll. I'll be back tomorrow.