i buried these under the other, more healthy bottles. i didn't want to excite some hillsider desperate for shirazzy backwash who would come to find, instead, a shirazzy fruit fly death strip.
i absolutely love playing "a year ago today" which is what i was playing monday when i realized that it had been a year since i'd started working out again. so, on the hottest day of the year, i decided to do a 3-mile trek through my hood. the first half was fine. during the second half, i had to splay my body across the lawn of an apartment building a few feet from some construction workers, whom i assumed could revive me if need be. i probably looked like a sweaty snow angel.
i like working out when it is ridiculously hot outside because it takes half as much effort to make oneself look and feel like a track and field star.
later in the day i ran into a handful of friends who assumed that i was very, very sunburned. but really, i'm just a red faced capillary buster who is really glad she doesn't have a workout partner.
yesterday i rollerbladed instead on the munger and let the construction workers assume i was dead.
i got my hair trimmed yesterday for the first time since november. ever since i stopped trying to pull off some sort of swedish snowbunny routine with my head, i don't have roots to remind me that it's time to weed whack my head.
the haircutting woman started by squirting something blue into my partline, then massaging my head. then she massaged the back of my head. then she gave some half-assed squeezes to my shoulders and i thought: "if this turns into a lapdance, i'm going to complain to management ... maybe."
sometimes haircutting head massagers make me want to drink wine and make out to "the notebook" with them. it is a good thing i don't get my hair cut often, or i'd have to make chuck start wearing a bra.
whatever. when i left, my head was tingling. it was like god himself was blowing altoid breath into my scalp. so i bought the aveda shampoo and conditioner. sometimes you have to start living the life you want to lead, and that life involves rosemary mint shampoo and conditioner.
last nite jcrew and i met up with shellface. he was in town golfing, so i thought grandma's would be an appropriate place to take him. i wanted to sit on a deck and drink somewhere near water, and frankly baja billy's sounded like a burrito-and-margharita-flavored colonoscopy.
pedestrian would have to do.
no one waited on us.
finally i rudely interupted a waiter who was ignoring us by washing off a table.
"can i get a menu?" i asked.
"kitchen's closed," he said.
"really? at 8:30 p.m. the kitchen is closed?" i wondered. this place must cater to blue hairs. no wonder i never eat here.
"i'll take a margarita," i told him, sensing he wasn't going to ask.
"me too," jcrew chirped.
he sighed. this was taxing, this waiting on people.
this reminds me of the last time i ate at grandma's and the waitstaff acted like they'd break a nail if they took our order.
eventually we went inside and sat at the bar. i had to set off flares for the bartender to notice us.
"so this is who hangs out at grandma's," i said surveying the crowd of abercrappie boys and middle aged vikings fans.
when i realized a beer cost $2.88 i forgave them. no wonder its so hard to get them to sell you one.
i ate boneless chicken wings that were super good.
chuck and i had a tequila party last nite.
tequila, ice and strawberry juice.
then tequila, ice and V8 infusion: peach and mango.
the former was good. the latter was great.
we also had flavored michelob ultra: cactus lime, tuscan orange grapefruit and pomegranite flavors.
it all tasted like clearly canadian, which is good.