Wednesday, February 22, 2006

She's Alive!

Yes, that's right, I survived the Official Ski Trip to Tahoe and met my death on the side of a mountain neither skiing nor driving. Though I do have some darn good stories about both to share, just as soon as the pictures are developed. (We didn't risk killing the digital camera on the slopes, and instead opted for a disposable one with real live film, hence the delay in picture production.) My chin, of all things, suffered the worst of it, due to constant rubbing against the top of my ski jacket. Red, peeling chin...not sexy. But the damage was minimal and short-lived - pretty good, as far as injuries go.

Danielle's visit provided much amusement, as always, and I miss her already. *Sob.* We spent our last night carousing in my 'hood...dinner at the Czech/Italian place down the street (yes, really, Czech and Italian. The owner/chef is Czech but previously worked at an Italian restaurant, so he now cooks both cuisines. Quite well, as a matter of fact.) followed by many pints at the English pub next door. Danielle enjoyed it immensely, as it was reminiscent of the time she spent in jolly old England. I enjoyed it immensely, as it was reminiscent of the time I spent socializing with single people.

The pub's big attraction is a Sunday night trivia game. And the guy running the show was HOT. (Or hot according to my warped-by-DC standards. Or hotter than anyone else within five feet of us.) We tried to figure out how old Trivia Boy is. 24? 25? The trivia questions seemed to center on information just a little before our time, so we upped the estimate to 30. (And we wondered who the hell knows this crap...until Danielle came up with several correct answers in a row and I amazed myself by knowing the answers to some pop culture questions, which is really, really not my forte.)

The evening progressed with several Trivia Boy run-ins. When the trivia festivities were over and the place had significantly cleared out, I found myself sharing a booth with him. This was the beginning of the end. It was midnight and Trivia Boy was drinking water and having a hard time stringing words together to form complete sentences. But best of all? He proceeded to pick at his teeth during our entire conversation. You've been drinking beer for the last twelve hours, what could possibly be stuck in your teeth?!?!

And this was not an attempt at discrete teeth-picking, where you use your pinky finger and try to make it as quick as possible and hope no one notices. This was whole-mouth-open, half-his-hand-in-there, undeniable, outright teeth-picking. Thirty? I hope not.

(There was also some vague reference to not knowing where he was going to be tomorrow morning. Um, was I supposed to suggest my place here? Cuz, yeah no. Did I mention the incessant teeth-picking? Uh, pass.)

I slid out of the booth with a casual "Have a good night" (and please don't ever run into me again!). Danielle and I made our way home, very slowly, because we kept stopping to fall over laughing as I recounted the story for her. My triumphant return to nightlife, and this is what I get?

*Insert game show buzzer sound here.*
Bob, what lovely parting gifts do we have for our contestant today?
Well, Jim, it's a one-way ticket to Spinsterhood. I hear it's beautiful this time of year.

For your viewing pleasure:

Yes, that would be eight purses/handbags/totes/laptop bags. For the two of us. We have no money to carry around in these bags, but I found my perfect black purse!

We're in the process of forming a support group. If you're interested, e-mail me your membership application. Tips on where to find a really hot bag at a great price are also welcome.

OLYMPICS UPDATE: Don't look for me in the halfpipe in Vancouver, but Anja Paerson and I are going head-to-head in the Women's Slalom event.


At Thu Feb 23, 07:17:00 AM PST, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Don't you have to be at least 30 before you worry about becoming a spinster?

At Thu Feb 23, 10:22:00 AM PST, Anonymous Clueless said...

Purses, schmurshes. Post some hero shots of you on skis. Blue skies, bright white snow, and NO shoe pictures.

At Thu Feb 23, 12:09:00 PM PST, Anonymous lori said...

Glad to hear that you made it back ok! I think the age limit on spinsterhood varies by location. In DC it seems that you have until at least 35 or 40. Where I live now, 28 definitely a spinster makes.

At Thu Feb 23, 12:25:00 PM PST, Blogger Daily Tragedies said...

Skiing pics, they are coming, I promise. Just as soon as Walgreens is finished developing them. And I have time to write the amusing narrative that accompanies them.

You're never too young to worry about spinsterhood! I think 30 is still plenty young, but at 40 I might have to face the cold, hard reality that I am destined to be a cat woman. And I don't even like cats.

At Thu Feb 23, 02:00:00 PM PST, Anonymous clb said...

I have a feeling that in your spinster life you'd have a better chance of becoming a bag lady or the old woman who lived in a shoe...not a cat lady...ha!


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