tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9300064892624656012024-03-21T15:44:43.753-07:00Court Is In SessionCourtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-19336975423183694062011-05-19T18:05:00.001-07:002011-05-19T18:05:40.276-07:00Facebook Funnies<p>So, they killed Osama Bin Laden a couple of weeks ago. But instead of postulating at the possible political ramifications of this event, or discussing whether or not it was the right thing to do (it was), I am going to share some of my favorite Facebook status updates from that evening.</p> <p>Here you go....….</p> <p>- Chuck Norris was let loose in Pakistan today.</p> <p>- I had a sneaky feeling he was hiding in Abbottabad…..</p> <p>- I wish a navy seal would take out whoever is making gas prices go up.</p> <p>- We might destroy two countries in the process, but if you mess    with America, we will find you.</p> <p>- Somebody killed the bastard!</p> <p>- I can't help but think that somehow Jack Bauer was involved.</p> <p>- NBC now concludes its coverage of Obama announcing Bin Laden's death, and joins its previously scheduled programming of “That Trump Guy who Questioned Obama's Birth Certificate” in progress.</p> <p>- Bin Laden's death has abruptly curtailed all discussion and coverage of an overly-hyped Royal Wedding. What an unintended, yet serendipitous consequence. A twofer!</p> <p> </p> <p>I have some pretty funny friends. </p> <p>That is all.</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-58580349212323645202011-04-11T22:58:00.001-07:002011-04-11T22:58:55.156-07:00We Have a Situation<p>I have a confession to make. </p> <p>Somehow (I'm still not sure exactly how), I have become a fan of  Jersey Shore.</p> <p>I don't know how this happened!! I have always been one of the biggest critics of that show, believing that only an imbecile would enjoy watching those Italian hooligans. In fact, it was always my belief that Jersey Shore would be the reason given when God explained why he wiped out the human race. </p> <p>But then I was in a group situation, where I was basically forced to watch an episode from this season. And it was funny. </p> <p>So I watched another episode. That was even funnier. </p> <p>And before I knew it, I was setting my DVR to record MTV every Thursday night at 10:00, and I couldn't WAIT to see what those dumb guidos and guidettes were up to next!! </p> <p>My mother would surely shake her head in disappointment…..</p> <p>I realize that my IQ probably drops a few points every time I watch an episode. In fact, I can feel myself getting dumber by the minute. But it's like a car wreck – AND I CAN'T LOOK AWAY!!!!</p> <p>I did gain some new vocabulary words/phrases from the show, though: Grenade, GTL, Juicehead Gorilla, T-shirt Time, Smush, Lean Cuisine...... See, I got a little smarter!! Ish. Okay, no. Not really.</p> <p>But we all need guilty pleasures, right?</p> <p>Somebody emailed me this picture the other day:</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TaPqHJcIGHI/AAAAAAAAAmE/CKHl7X3O8Bg/s1600-h/tumblr_lhhx9wFvYk1qzpgm9o1_500%5B1%5D%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="tumblr_lhhx9wFvYk1qzpgm9o1_500[1]" border="0" alt="tumblr_lhhx9wFvYk1qzpgm9o1_500[1]" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TaPqHm4ToiI/AAAAAAAAAmI/3vN4ru7Ul0Q/tumblr_lhhx9wFvYk1qzpgm9o1_500%5B1%5D_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="285" /></a></p> <p>Could not be truer.</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-66420446321731508912011-04-05T21:11:00.001-07:002011-04-05T21:11:55.730-07:00Ghetto Wax<p>So, a month or so ago, a few of my friends and I were looking for something fun to do on a Saturday night. And somehow or another…….we ended up in Tinsel Town at The Hollywood Wax Museum.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn2yIZ9jI/AAAAAAAAAks/WaY-8hFar50/s1600-h/085%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="085" border="0" alt="085" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn3SAbz9I/AAAAAAAAAkw/w68eeXgJhoU/085_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p>Did you know that there are TWO Wax Museums in Hollywood? Yeah, me neither. Literally <em>blocks</em> away from one another. Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum (which I had always assumed was the <em>only</em> one) is probably the most renowned. Very shi shi foo foo, Hollywood sheik. These wax figures are the ones you always hear about on entertainment television shows. When one of those bad boys is commissioned, Madame Tussaud’s sends a representative out to meet with the celebrity whom the wax figurine is to be modeled after. Photographs are taken from every possible angle, and every body part (well almost every) is measured in exact detail. Some of the likenesses are truly amazing – making for quite an experience when you visit.</p> <p>And theeeeeennn there's the Hollywood Wax Museum – the  bastard red-headed stepchild of wax museums. Where half of the figurines don't even come <em>close</em> to resembling the celebrities they are supposed to represent. And whose (supposedly) famous faces look like they have been awkwardly stuck on random department store mannequins. It's quite sad, really.</p> <p>BUT, the upside to the el-cheapo statuettes is that the museum owners could care less about your interacting with them. So you can pose with and take pictures with the "celebrities," basically inserting yourself into the the display. Which makes for quite an entertaining evening.......</p> <p>Here are some of the paparazzi photographs.....</p> <p>This first one is my personal favorite. It personifies Rachel and her cheekiness so perfectly…..</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn3jsCvrI/AAAAAAAAAk0/SR54MzOQ_WY/s1600-h/photo%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo" border="0" alt="photo" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn4I1wpLI/AAAAAAAAAk4/wPAb5ZUvJZQ/photo_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="279" height="371" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn5Nb_ZEI/AAAAAAAAAk8/sK6DRHc66Q8/s1600-h/066%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="066" border="0" alt="066" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn5hgveRI/AAAAAAAAAlA/eP8xFXKt02U/066_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn6Ct3uTI/AAAAAAAAAlE/UEVLPv40CeY/s1600-h/027%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="027" border="0" alt="027" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn6uFZnYI/AAAAAAAAAlI/xssWh3mfMzw/027_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn7dcnjuI/AAAAAAAAAlM/xsOYxqjkXuI/s1600-h/043%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="043" border="0" alt="043" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn7xegvII/AAAAAAAAAlQ/ZFIKfb1Djzg/043_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn8voqVoI/AAAAAAAAAlU/UTCfcixuZtk/s1600-h/056%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="056" border="0" alt="056" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn9CYYxmI/AAAAAAAAAlY/rMQaIkMob6I/056_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="279" height="371" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn9sw1_pI/AAAAAAAAAlc/2FysRXX1nJg/s1600-h/041%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="041" border="0" alt="041" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn96LU4WI/AAAAAAAAAlg/Lb2iLaAaMNU/041_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn-QHxG9I/AAAAAAAAAlk/_HXfoe5H7M4/s1600-h/065%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="065" border="0" alt="065" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn-xRZ1VI/AAAAAAAAAlo/siqeKVSw62w/065_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="279" height="371" /></a></p> <p>Rachel says that I am doing the “West Side” meets “Put a Ring on it” hand sign in this next pic. I’m such a dork sometimes.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvn_vd_qvI/AAAAAAAAAls/XbHaNML29iQ/s1600-h/068%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="068" border="0" alt="068" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvoAPheLmI/AAAAAAAAAlw/fU8L5t0ZdLQ/068_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvoBH9l8NI/AAAAAAAAAl0/Oee_oiUSxw0/s1600-h/054%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="054" border="0" alt="054" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvoBqHaxVI/AAAAAAAAAl4/AjWqfsm4k4I/054_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvoCRcvVkI/AAAAAAAAAl8/G6DgSarcBMc/s1600-h/016%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="016" border="0" alt="016" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TZvoCjOvnCI/AAAAAAAAAmA/mjnhXTAyHJ8/016_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p>It was kinda fun rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous. Even if they were ghetto, waxy shoulders.</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-32945397784839233422011-03-05T15:56:00.001-08:002011-03-05T15:56:05.919-08:00Phase 2<p>(Disclaimer: I am going to talk about “womanly” issues in this post. Reader beware.)</p> <p>I recently started developing ovarian cysts. It's no big deal, really – they are actually pretty common in the general (female) public. And in my case, they also run in the family. Ovarian cysts don't affect child-bearing capabilities or anything major like that. More than anything, they are just a nuisance to deal with if one of them decides to burst because they can get pretty uncomfortable.</p> <p>So, after a few months of having this intermittent discomfort (and after one particularly painful episode at work where I threw up and nearly passed out), I decided that I should probably go see my OB/GYN just to make sure that my self-diagnosis was correct.</p> <p>At the appointment, I re-told my story. The doctor listened intently, nodding along with me as I listed off all my factoids. When I finished talking, she said that she agreed with the cyst diagnosis. And then she asked "Now, how old are you?"</p> <p>My favorite question.</p> <p>When I told her that I was 32, she replied "Ah, that explains a lot."</p> <p>Eh?</p> <p>She went on to explain that, as women get into their thirties, all of the symptoms that usually accompany periods begin to intensify. These symptoms include cramping, bloating, bleeding, PMS, acne – and occasionally, the development of ovarian cysts. Since I am lucky enough to have escaped experiencing most of these symptoms even in my teens and twenties, this was not exactly what I wanted to hear. </p> <p>I mean, as if facial wrinkles and aching bones weren't <em>already</em> enough to deal with in my increasing age, now I also get to re-live my adolescence – only WORSE? </p> <p>For the love....whose lame idea was THAT?!</p> <p>Well, right now I am PMS-ing like you wouldn't <em>believe</em>. A couple days ago, I accidentally got some bleach on one of my dresses, and I wanted to murder someone. At a goodbye party later that night, I felt all awkward and <em>so </em>not cool; I nearly bolted out the door 10 minutes after I got there so I could go home and bawl my eyes out to some cheesy music. And yesterday at work, a needle went missing during one of my surgical cases, and I nearly had a conniption fit in the search to find it.</p> <p>THIS IS <em>NOT</em> NORMAL BEHAVIOR FOR ME!!!!!</p> <p>I have a feeling that I am not going to enjoy this new phase of life.</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TXLNk4IB5wI/AAAAAAAAAkg/wYwDdD6Vtd4/s1600-h/PMS%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="PMS" border="0" alt="PMS" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TXLNlNuaweI/AAAAAAAAAkk/f81VqIiXTI0/PMS_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" height="310" /></a></p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-9471808135201702072011-01-29T16:08:00.001-08:002011-01-29T16:10:57.879-08:00Winter Magic<p>(Again, I know that it is <em>well</em> past Holiday time. And that this blog post title is somewhat oxymoronic considering that it is 80 degrees outside right now. But still, I'm playing catch-up.)</p> <p>I absolutely <strong>love</strong> the winter Holiday season, particularly Christmastime. I don't know what it is about it, but even as I have gotten older, and perhaps even a little more jaded in life, Christmas has just never seemed to lose its magic. It carries with it a vibe, an aura. A memory. Christmas means the smell of smoke-burning fireplaces on the cold night air and 24-hour-a-day Christmas music on the radio. It means pumpkin pie for breakfast. And thousands of twinkling lights on the neighborhood houses (you'll notice that I specifically said <em>neighborhood</em> houses, as my dad has refused to put lights up on our house for <em>years </em>now. Bah!) And of course, what Christmas would be complete without spending hours on end shopping?</p> <p>Growing up, my family had several Christmas traditions. However, as the kids have gotten older, and the family members at home for the holidays have become fewer, many of these traditions have fallen by the wayside. Mostly due to lack of desire to expend energy. However, the one tradition that has stood the test of time is Christmas Eve dinner. I know what you're saying – "Courtney, <em>everybody </em>eats Christmas dinner. And a lot of people eat it on Christmas Eve like you. What makes your family tradition so different?"</p> <p>Well, I'll tell you. It's all the little eccentricities that make <em>our </em>Christmas dinner so quintessentially Sudweeks.</p> <p>First of all, my Mother hates turkey. So for Christmas dinner, we used to cook a turkey, a honeybaked ham, and then a small chicken for my Mom. But then everybody started eating her chicken, and leaving the turkey untouched. And my Mom would get totally annoyed because everyone was stealing her poultry. So the turkey part of the dinner was eventually discontinued, and the size of the chicken was upgraded. A la, turkey-less Christmas dinner.</p> <p>Second of all, our side dishes are not exactly typical. They are traditional......but with a twist. Instead of yams with marshmallows on top, we have a concoction of yams and apples marinated in a sweet sauce. Instead of mashed potatoes, we have my Dad's famous cheesy scalloped potatoes. And who needs cranberry sauce when you have strawberry Jell-o (with real strawberry pieces and bananas in it)! </p> <p>[Side note: This past Thanksgiving, my parents somehow forgot to buy the strawberry Jell-o. But instead of running out to the store, they decided to use whatever they had on hand. Which was watermelon and orange-flavored Jell-o (left over from when my dad could only eat non-red clear liquids prior to having a colonoscopy, I might add). Mixed together. With strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, and bananas…..</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TUSr0Oez6qI/AAAAAAAAAjw/YAhF-DXF_AI/s1600-h/photo%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo" border="0" alt="photo" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TUSr0nefjOI/AAAAAAAAAj0/sfFDwcR89n4/photo_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p>……I'm not really sure <em>what</em> they were thinking, but as appetizing as that may look/sound, it ended up tasting more like a jiggly, chewy Jolly Rancher. Bonus points for creativity, though.]</p> <p>Thirdly, every year, WITHOUT FAIL, we burn the crescent rolls. Every. Bloody. Year. And every year, we laugh at our repeated offense and <em>swear</em> we won't do it again. It really takes a certain talent, if you ask me. So sad, because crescent rolls are yummy.</p> <p>Lastly, Christmas dinner may as well be called Christmas dessert in our house, because that's really the main event. Every year, even if there are just a few of us at home for the holidays, we make an abundance of pies and other delectable goodies to consume. This Christmas we made three pumpkin pies, one cherry pie, one lemon meringue pie, one apple crisp, and one lemon swirl cheesecake. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TUSr1I1QDPI/AAAAAAAAAj4/1aEuEiDFXeQ/s1600-h/Food%20Photo%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Food Photo" border="0" alt="Food Photo" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TUSr1UKNbUI/AAAAAAAAAj8/Y0e1qQsVBys/Food%20Photo_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p>That's <strong>seven</strong> desserts. For <strong>four</strong> people. Gluttony what?</p> <p>After dinner, we decided to go check out the Christmas lights at a couple different San Diego spots. The first place we went was Seaport Village, which is located on San Diego Harbor. But as it was Christmas Eve, and most of the little shops with lights had closed early, there wasn't too much to see. BUT, several of the historical ships in the harbor were decorated with lights.</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TUSr15Ne2cI/AAAAAAAAAkA/Dbd298ipZM0/s1600-h/boats%20%231%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="boats #1" border="0" alt="boats #1" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TUSr2Bkkm-I/AAAAAAAAAkE/dvtWVE3wX-k/boats%20%231_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" height="337" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TUSr2kIFnYI/AAAAAAAAAkI/XfhxNZ-DOO0/s1600-h/boats%20%232%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="boats #2" border="0" alt="boats #2" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TUSr2wJG0qI/AAAAAAAAAkM/4aaKK91n1aE/boats%20%232_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" height="337" /></a></p> <p>At this point, we decided to head to Balboa Park, another historical San Diego location with lots of beautiful architecture, museums, gardens, and theaters. I love this place. It's one of the few places from my childhood that feels unchanged and untouched, and I could spend hours just meandering through it. And at Christmastime, they usually go Christmas light crazy.</p> <p>Balboa Park is actually not very far from Seaport Village – a fact that I did not realize, having not lived in that part of San Diego since I was ten. This fact was quickly pointed out to me by my mother, however, who scoffed when I asked her if I should get out the GPS. She reminded me that both she and my father had worked in that area early on in their marriage, and knew it like the back of their hands.</p> <p>Okayeeee.......... Fine.</p> <p>We begin driving, and my mom started playing front-seat navigator to my dad. Which worked for a little while. Until we started driving through tent cities of homeless people and being directed the wrong way down one-way streets. Apparently my mother had forgotten more than she thought since moving to North County.</p> <p>Up in the front seats, my parents argued and debated. "No, we just need to find 5th street. That'll take us straight there! That way!! No – turn here!!" Blythe and I just sat there in the back seat, giggling our heads off as quietly as we could at my parents....who were <em>so</em> lost, but just couldn't admit it. I tell you, I felt like I was watching an episode of The Muppet Show, you know, with the two old men who are constantly bickering and mocking each other. Yeah, that was my parents trying to get themselves to Balboa Park at 10:00 at night on Christmas Eve 2010. So funny.</p> <p>Finally, after about 15 minutes of this comedy act, Blythe whipped out her phone and GPS'd our destination. We got there in 3 minutes. </p> <p>Haha.</p> <p>Anyway, once we got there, we walked around for a bit, looking at the lights, etc. But, I would have to say that the pinnacle of the evening was sitting on Santa's lap. That's right – the big guy himself. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TUSr3pb-RqI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/OCMKmMDkSYA/s1600-h/004%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="004" border="0" alt="004" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TUSr36AC5XI/AAAAAAAAAkU/UMa7XQj0xuo/004_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p>Blythe and I are 30 and 32, respectively. Why do you ask? ;o)</p> <p>All in all, the 2010 holidays were quiet and relaxing, which was probably what we all needed anyway, since we kept catching and re-infecting each other with the flu for the whole two weeks. </p> <p>That’s okay, though. Because you know how they say that the older you get, the faster time flies? Well, 2010 felt like a literal blur, and I still swear that we skipped May and September somewhere in there. So I'm sure that Christmas 2011 will be here before I know it…..with an all new set of adventures!</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-38672363443922323572011-01-10T09:58:00.000-08:002011-01-10T10:16:51.715-08:00Halloweekend<p>(Note: Yes, I know that it is January 2011. And yes, I know that this is a Halloween post. But c'mon people! The holidays are a busy time! And when have I ever been punctual when it comes to blogging, huh? Anyway, here goes...)</p> <p>So, typically, I am NOT a fan of Halloween. I know, Bah Humbug and all. But I find the whole occasion to be quite stressful, mostly because I hate having to think up a decent costume to wear. My creative juices just don't revolve around fashion. </p> <p>This year, however, I actually had a pretty decent Halloween weekend. Friday night (October 29th), there was a huge regional YSA party/dance that I went to with a bunch of friends. My roomie, Rachel, dressed up as Snooki, and I have to say that she pretty much nailed it. Except for the bright orange hands (she got a-ONE too many spray tans in pursuit of the cause). But hey, GTL as you see fit. </p> <p>As for myself, I managed to put together a makeshift sexy kitty costume (which was repeatedly mistaken for a sexy mouse costume.....idiots). </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM52sBTfI/AAAAAAAAAig/o1iDsmbudSs/s1600-h/69373_486408410794_529985794_7392096%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="69373_486408410794_529985794_7392096_1421119_n[1]" border="0" alt="69373_486408410794_529985794_7392096_1421119_n[1]" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM6HHzflI/AAAAAAAAAik/b6_Zvb8gvJ0/69373_486408410794_529985794_7392096.jpg?imgmax=800" width="264" height="351" /></a></p> <p>Even though the party was EXTREMELY crowded and hot, and even though I felt like I was babysitting half the time because I was surrounded by hundreds of 18-year-old twits, I actually had a pretty good time.</p> <p>I give my friend, Todd, the award for most creative costume. Can you guess what he is? Can you?</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM6pzxQ6I/AAAAAAAAAio/2ihuFGo6kpA/s1600-h/Halloween-73.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="Halloween #7" border="0" alt="Halloween #7" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM6yM_hfI/AAAAAAAAAis/1-X6YRzRozc/Halloween-7_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="264" height="351" /></a></p> <p>A bar of soap. </p> <p>I know, right? Ew. But somehow coming from Todd, it's not as offensive.</p> <p>Afterwards, we all went out to Denny's for some food. </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM7roG2EI/AAAAAAAAAiw/5rYvihU-6oI/s1600-h/Halloween-55.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="Halloween #5" border="0" alt="Halloween #5" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM8LWTboI/AAAAAAAAAi0/WCDjVAUH9mQ/Halloween-5_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" height="244" /></a></p> <p>And then on the way home, I got pulled over by some power-hungry cops who claimed that they were doing so because I had tinted front windows. </p> <p>Seriously?! Tinted windows? Could they even tell if my windows were tinted at that time of night? And by the way, they are NOT.</p> <p>Apparently that was the only excuse they could come up with to pull me over to see if I was drunk, which totally bugs, because I wasn't even speeding or driving recklessly or anything. And they didn't even ask me if I HAD been drinking; they asked me HOW MUCH I had had to drink that night. What the?!?!</p> <p>So, here is when Snarky Courtney comes out - when supposed authority figures try to attack/accuse me without justification. I was probably a little sassier with the cop than I should have been......after all, I had done NOTHING wrong. Even though I told him that I had not been drinking that night, and that I would take a breathalizer test to prove it, he still made me follow his finger back and forth until he was satisfied that I was sober. At that point, he let me go with a "warning" about my supposedly illegal tinted windows, and that was it.</p> <p>To his credit, it must have looked pretty suspicious to have a 31-year-old dressed as a cat, with smeared cat makeup, driving around with a blonde bar of soap at 3 o'clock in the morning. And I guess that I would rather have him being safe than sorry when it comes to drunk drivers. But still! I felt so violated!</p> <p>The next night (Saturday, October 30th), a group of us decided to go up to the Haunted Hayride at Griffith Park.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM8WgsfII/AAAAAAAAAi4/pBuCVsxyaWM/s1600-h/148146_803633170699_17800278_4186833%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="148146_803633170699_17800278_41868332_5939787_n[1]" border="0" alt="148146_803633170699_17800278_41868332_5939787_n[1]" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM82qIEqI/AAAAAAAAAi8/xn-ILJSSu2s/148146_803633170699_17800278_4186833%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" height="244" /></a></p> <p>I wasn't quite sure how I was going to feel about this activity, as I really HATE being scared. In fact, my automatic reflex when something jumps out at me is to swat at it. And I was pretty sure that the Haunted Hayride people weren't going to look kindly on my physically abusing their staff. </p> <p>There were about 30 people per hayride, and we were being driven around a trail which went through the old Griffith Park Zoo. There were about 8 different scary displays - with the subject matter ranging from clowns to demons to axe murderers. They had it all. And some of these displays were inside the old animal cages that used to be part of the zoo - which was both cool and creepy. </p> <p>Now, I was told that the actors were not allowed to touch the riders. Which was true. But, BOY did they do everything but. They would jump onto the side of the vehicle, banging it with metal objects as they did. They stuck their heads into the center of the group, reaching for us and gruesomely yelling out our names (Yes, they were smart.....they listened to conversations going on and picked up on passengers' names......and then used them to freak us out!).</p> <p>I didn't think that it was possible to both scream in horror and laugh with glee at the same time, but I did throughout the entire adventure. When it ended, I wanted to go again - which says a lot for a chicken like me.</p> <p>Here are some pics from the night:</p> <p>(You can see that Rachel’s hand is still a lovely shade of dark orange….hehe.)</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM9dR4Y-I/AAAAAAAAAjA/CYMKT44jJe4/s1600-h/Halloween-64.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="Halloween #6" border="0" alt="Halloween #6" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM90CoUmI/AAAAAAAAAjE/7XOJmMp29Rs/Halloween-6_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" height="244" /></a></p> <p>(Waiting in line. <em>YES</em>, there was a 45 minute line to take a ride on some hay. Where <em>don’t </em>you have to wait in LA anymore?!)</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM-Kf6uGI/AAAAAAAAAjI/rj_5vcL5OWE/s1600-h/73770_490629740794_529985794_7482933.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="73770_490629740794_529985794_7482933_2348854_n[1]" border="0" alt="73770_490629740794_529985794_7482933_2348854_n[1]" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM-cGT3zI/AAAAAAAAAjM/rqXWa4VUFww/73770_490629740794_529985794_7482933%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" height="244" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM-6d5-2I/AAAAAAAAAjQ/toEy1nxdoJc/s1600-h/149234_490631240794_529985794_748297.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="149234_490631240794_529985794_7482971_6069139_n[1]" border="0" alt="149234_490631240794_529985794_7482971_6069139_n[1]" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM_bj9H0I/AAAAAAAAAjU/H7HbH9cjGn0/149234_490631240794_529985794_748297%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" height="244" /></a></p> <p>(In the metal pen they herd you into right before the ride. MOO!!)</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStM_1axTcI/AAAAAAAAAjY/xmKlb8D5qrY/s1600-h/Halloween-44.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="Halloween #4" border="0" alt="Halloween #4" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStNAXGlC0I/AAAAAAAAAjc/y-tD8gYz7LM/Halloween-4_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" height="244" /></a></p> <p>(YAY!! We actually made it on!!)</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStNAtBbt9I/AAAAAAAAAjg/JmgzW2R1wi4/s1600-h/155179_803633280479_17800278_4186833%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="155179_803633280479_17800278_41868334_5485901_n[1]" border="0" alt="155179_803633280479_17800278_41868334_5485901_n[1]" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStNBBNzBgI/AAAAAAAAAjk/RYRDzL3yRFA/155179_803633280479_17800278_4186833%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" height="244" /></a></p> <p>(Some of the aftermath….)</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStNBmU6kaI/AAAAAAAAAjo/p1IijkBvlBE/s1600-h/76528_803633375289_17800278_41868335%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="76528_803633375289_17800278_41868335_7845682_n[1]" border="0" alt="76528_803633375289_17800278_41868335_7845682_n[1]" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TStNDKkbdJI/AAAAAAAAAjs/0PaCWCrXTgc/76528_803633375289_17800278_41868335%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="264" height="351" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>By the time we got to Halloween day (Sunday, October 31st), we were so pooped from our late nights of fun and debauchery, that we just sat around in our pajamas, ate pizza and ice cream, and watched "Hocus Pocus." </p> <p>Just my kind of Halloween. And yes, I know that makes me old and boring. But I just don't care anymore.</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-68825453598061107232010-10-19T18:11:00.001-07:002010-10-19T18:11:50.530-07:00Garden of Sound<p>It's no secret that there are A LOT of things to complain about if you live in LA. The concrete jungle, the crowds of inconsiderate and rude people. And who could forget its legendary amount of traffic - which seems to be in full force no matter what time of day (or night ) it is. However, despite the numerous things that there are to gripe about (and trust me, I am a GREAT griper), every now and then something will happen – and living in LA is suddenly kinda cool again. A couple of weeks ago, I had one of these occasions.</p> <p>I was sitting at home, checking my facebook (I know, I'm super cool), when one of my co-workers posted something about scoring two tickets for a secret Soundgarden concert for that night. Now, I like Soundgarden.....but my roommate, Rachel, is OBSESSED with them. In fact, I believe that her number one goal in life is to bear Chris Cornell's child someday. </p> <p>I texted her, asking if she knew about the concert. "WHAT!!!!," was her reply. "Secret concert?!!!! I MUST GO!!!!" Luckily, she works a block away from Amoeba Records, where they had the tickets. She literally dropped everything, ran out of her office, and high-tailed it down the road. She managed to get four wristbands for the concert, and the best thing about it was.......they were FREE!! Seriously, that DOESN'T happen.</p> <p>The concert turned out to be a promo event for the release of both Soundgarden's new album and the new Guitar Hero game, held at the Paramount Studios Lot.</p> <p>(Side note: A few years back, my old roomie, Jamie, and I randomly stumbled upon the release party for a different Guitar Hero game. This event featured Poison and was held on the roof of a Best Buy. How the Guitar Hero people manage to get such big names to perform at their releases is beyond me. But hey, free concerts!! Woo hoo!!)</p> <p>Here we are, waiting to get onto the lot…..</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5Bt8tlM5I/AAAAAAAAAhM/vtqOSLW3VMc/s1600-h/26573.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="2657" border="0" alt="2657" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5BuD0lrcI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/8q-FZcQHSfg/2657_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a> </p> <p>Not only were the <em>tickets</em> free, but once we got onto the lot, there was free food, free drinks (open bar, not that I could partake or anything), free posters, and free gift bags. Guitar Hero stations were set up all over the place so you could try out the new game. AND, this was all taking place on one of the New York City street movie sets outside on a gorgeous, warm evening. Oh, and the concert was being held in a tiny little venue – which is the coolest way to experience any concert. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5BuZyFkCI/AAAAAAAAAhU/pRptaaAHZFw/s1600-h/26613.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="2661" border="0" alt="2661" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5Buk4TGlI/AAAAAAAAAhY/2hDkpykie28/2661_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="279" height="371" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5BvJthh9I/AAAAAAAAAhc/2L12lnL6X0c/s1600-h/26773.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="2677" border="0" alt="2677" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5BvZ1ERtI/AAAAAAAAAhg/Dsf1pyhaD_c/2677_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="279" height="371" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5BwNXfFYI/AAAAAAAAAhk/xTiJ2lKbvvo/s1600-h/26693.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="2669" border="0" alt="2669" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5Bwp8iktI/AAAAAAAAAhs/uWKfLci3xsk/2669_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="279" height="371" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5BxPtidFI/AAAAAAAAAhw/4fIGF_mqzAU/s1600-h/26803.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="2680" border="0" alt="2680" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5BxTNMTmI/AAAAAAAAAh0/B0jHk_F0kfE/2680_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a> </p> <p>Needless to say, we were all in heaven.</p> <p>There was a great energy and excitement once we got into the venue, and we managed to elbow our way up to about the 5th row. </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5BxyBc6RI/AAAAAAAAAh4/BF5mzpWdTwE/s1600-h/26833.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="2683" border="0" alt="2683" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5BynxO5zI/AAAAAAAAAh8/NlRu2cl3e_g/2683_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5ByzD-vLI/AAAAAAAAAiA/uLsEWEMWRHY/s1600-h/61520_784831728939_17824414_41502238%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="61520_784831728939_17824414_41502238_3780053_n[1]" border="0" alt="61520_784831728939_17824414_41502238_3780053_n[1]" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5BzAblS3I/AAAAAAAAAiE/XeSjzrNXnf8/61520_784831728939_17824414_41502238%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="265" /></a></p> <p>FINALLY, at around 10:30 (this was supposed to be an 8:00 concert), Soundgarden emerged.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5B0RhUAFI/AAAAAAAAAiI/FZ9ChYzPHX4/s1600-h/Chris%20Cornell%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Chris Cornell" border="0" alt="Chris Cornell" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5B0tT9MMI/AAAAAAAAAiM/nH2lVUmZFFg/Chris%20Cornell_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="265" /></a></p> <p>And all hell broke loose.</p> <p>I SOOOO totally didn't realize that standing in the 5th row of people = being smack dab in the middle of the mosh pit. The music started, and suddenly I was being stepped on and tossed about like a rag doll. And I was completely trapped!! I kid you not, I was actually afraid for my life. Somehow, I managed to scramble my way out of that violent mess, and took refuge behind my friend Derek. But, not soon enough to prevent my poor little bare feet from being trampled. My feet felt kind of sticky during the concert, and I thought somebody had spilled a drink on them. It wasn't until afterwards that I realized that that stickiness was from my own blood. Crap. I’m lucky I didn’t catch hepatitis or something. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5B0xsqfEI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/-dbZCBnHt2w/s1600-h/Foot%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="Foot" border="0" alt="Foot" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TL5B1BZ0DPI/AAAAAAAAAiU/7mS6T-Cb6BY/Foot_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="279" height="371" /></a> </p> <p>I guess that’s what I get for wearing flip flops to a rock concert.</p> <p>Anyway, it was a totally fun night. Made me actually like living in LA for once. Go figure. :o)</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-68415584623749311322010-09-25T11:57:00.001-07:002010-09-25T11:57:19.449-07:00I said, WHIP IT!!<p>Oh. My. Gosh. </p> <p>Wednesday night I experienced what has to have been one of the silliest, most hilarious things I have seen since moving to LA. I played charity Bingo...…….with some drag queens in West Hollywood. No, seriously.</p> <p>One of the guys in my ward has been trying to raise money for an inner city LA school, and one of the ways he chose to do that was through this event. A local drag queen bar/restaurant called Hamburger Mary's has Bingo every Wednesday night. If anybody has a worthy cause that they are trying to raise money for, Hamburger Mary’s will host and run an event for that purpose. All you have to do is organize the guests and provide the prizes. They give 100% of the proceeds to the cause – which I think is pretty great. </p> <p>Our host for the night was "Miss" Bridget of Madison County. And she was feisty. First thing, she explained the rules for the evening. But, she was quick to note that the biggest, most important rule was "NO FAKE BINGOS!!!" And if you did call out "Bingo" incorrectly, there would be consequences. Harsh consequences. She then proceeded to pick up a black leather strap, and violently SLAP it against the wall. </p> <p>Oh my. We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto.</p> <p>As the leather cracked against the wall, the expression on my friend Sterling's face was that of pure shock. "Um, can you go over the rules one more time please," he asked. I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants.</p> <p>There was only one twit the whole night who was stupid enough to call out a fake bingo. And she was justly punished. The strap was also used to give out birthday spankings to a few different people, including my friend, Brian, who had organized the event. And when Bridget uses that strap, man – she means business! </p> <p>Well, I had the time of my life. I cant repeat half of what was said during the evening, as pretty much every sentence was laced with some sort of sexual innuendo. And though<em> <strong>I</strong></em> didn't win anything, my roomie, Rachel, did manage to score herself a lovely rape whistle when she tied with another dude for a bingo win, and then lost in the draw for a final winner.</p> <p>All I can say is, if you have trouble getting ahold of me on Wednesday nights, it’s probably because I’m hanging with Bridget.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJ5F7-ibrHI/AAAAAAAAAgs/0E4xVT49NKw/s1600-h/IMG_8790%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_8790" border="0" alt="IMG_8790" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJ5F832hLsI/AAAAAAAAAgw/2iENqYCwLTw/IMG_8790_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJ5F-nNHllI/AAAAAAAAAg0/jgK_0sFacI0/s1600-h/IMG_8779%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_8779" border="0" alt="IMG_8779" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJ5F_W4M5eI/AAAAAAAAAg4/N214U5JKamI/IMG_8779_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJ5GAkYhQPI/AAAAAAAAAg8/1r4joy1KDiY/s1600-h/IMG_8789%5B8%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_8789" border="0" alt="IMG_8789" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJ5GB4OSQbI/AAAAAAAAAhA/izZ-O85bPtY/IMG_8789_thumb%5B4%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="279" height="371" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJ5GDIiXqkI/AAAAAAAAAhE/dw1TAEYA00M/s1600-h/IMG_8787%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_8787" border="0" alt="IMG_8787" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJ5GDnM4f4I/AAAAAAAAAhI/X90cGthPybI/IMG_8787_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="279" height="371" /></a></p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-7183154815424075432010-09-15T20:35:00.001-07:002010-09-15T20:35:57.436-07:00Better Go Find Your Ice Skates……<p>…..because I’m pretty sure that hell has just frozen over.</p> <p>Why, you ask?</p> <p>Because I have just done something that I SWORE I would never do. Something that friends have been trying to convince me to do for years, but to which I have been vehemently opposed.</p> <p>I layered my hair.</p> <p>Okay, okay. I know that to most of you, this may not seem like a very big deal. But to me – a creature of habit and not of change – it is! For years, I have worn my hair long and straight. It was easy to maintain and required little to no thought on my part. It was by no means boring, but it wasn’t necessarily exciting either.</p> <p>Well, lately I have been on this whole “seize the day” kick, and last Saturday that seizing manifested itself in a crazy (sort of) new haircut.</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJGQkM1FD-I/AAAAAAAAAgU/SnosKfThxj8/s1600-h/iPhone%20Pics%20245%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="iPhone Pics 245" border="0" alt="iPhone Pics 245" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJGQk9PBTdI/AAAAAAAAAgY/p8TCy9wuWzo/iPhone%20Pics%20245_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" height="337" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJGQl9VZI6I/AAAAAAAAAgc/z8eGYqFmsBc/s1600-h/iPhone%20Pics%20270%20%282%29%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="iPhone Pics 270 (2)" border="0" alt="iPhone Pics 270 (2)" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJGQmDZA38I/AAAAAAAAAgg/IUeis_o8S80/iPhone%20Pics%20270%20%282%29_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" height="404" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJGQmuCBpII/AAAAAAAAAgk/6vVoR58ambU/s1600-h/iPhone%20Pics%20271%20%282%29%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="iPhone Pics 271 (2)" border="0" alt="iPhone Pics 271 (2)" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TJGQnGG1vRI/AAAAAAAAAgo/TvroSJwyYUc/iPhone%20Pics%20271%20%282%29_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" height="384" /></a> </p> <p>For those of you who don’t see me every day or who don’t know me super well, you may not even notice a difference. And maybe there isn’t a huge one. But hey, baby steps people!</p> <p>Though I am still adjusting to the various lengths of hair I now have, I am LOVING the new do! And I can’t wait to experiment with it!</p> <p>Maybe I should listen to my friends more often……</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-33492673262493475002010-09-04T16:58:00.001-07:002010-09-04T16:58:19.232-07:00Take Me Out to the Movies…..<p>So, the two YSA wards out here are full of industry-types. Mostly they are just wanna-be actors (unless you consider being in both an Old Navy AND and an Ice Breakers commercial simultaneously as hitting the big time). But there are a few ward members who have actually been involved in some pretty legit Hollywood movies/projects.</p> <p>Due to this fact, every July the wards combine to hold a huge film festival. And it is probably the biggest, most publicized, and widely-attended church activity of the year. Seriously. It has become so well known that YSA wards in other states have tried to mimic it – but ours is still the original....and the best. :P</p> <p>The occasion is strictly formal dress (or costume, as there is always a theme to the festival), and even has a red carpet and paparazzi. Our venue? Well, the Stake Center cultural hall, of course (nothing says red carpet more than a basketball court)! </p> <p>Members from the wards are invited to make and submit 5-minute short films. Then, at the festival (which is only one night), these films are screened and voted on by the ward members. Winners are chosen, awards are given out. It's a jolly good time.</p> <p>Most of the films are quite amateur (for obvious reasons), but occasionally, you get one that is so creative that it raises the bar. A film that everybody leaves the festival talking about – and continues to talk about for the next few days.</p> <p>Such was the case this year. </p> <p>Meet "Jane Austen's Fight Club." Not only did this film win for "Best Picture" this year, but since it was posted on YouTube, it has gone completely viral – racking up over a MILLION views in just the first two weeks alone! It has been featured on websites like Jezebel, The Daily What, CBSnews.com, Time.com, and its director (my buddy, Emily Janice Card) has even been interviewed by by Entertainment Weekly online. Crazy, huh? See, Mormons do have a sense of humor!</p> <p>Anyway, for your viewing pleasure......."Jane Austen's Fight Club."</p> <p> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:bd26701f-d6ff-49c9-9c68-72b5ecbba4cd" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="b75f2377-6bbc-484b-824e-6ad5f6cf8709" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r2PM0om2El8?fs=1&hl=en_US" target="_new"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TILdD8Oh1aI/AAAAAAAAAf0/Flf5K68J7YI/videoaa93300dc7ff%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('b75f2377-6bbc-484b-824e-6ad5f6cf8709'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/r2PM0om2El8?fs=1&hl=en_US&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/r2PM0om2El8?fs=1&hl=en_US&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <p> </p> <p>And while we're on the subject of award-winning films, here's a silly little one that I somehow ended up participating in a few years back. I am NOT an actress, and the only reason I agreed to do it was because I was told that it would only be freeze-frames. But it ended up being  a lot of fun to do – and I’m glad I had the opportunity!</p> <p>It also won for "Best Picture," and I randomly won for "Best Actress" (There must not have been a lot of female participants that year). Anyway, here's that film....."Time for Teens."</p> <p> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:4ca8f8d1-3568-4d9f-a73f-a2cbdf20d539" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="b39d4fe4-5f98-492d-8f52-667b470dd8b8" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mUMe_deq6DM?fs=1&hl=en_US" target="_new"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TILdEX5RRXI/AAAAAAAAAf4/Hr-oOFwOQfM/video69650682a36b%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('b39d4fe4-5f98-492d-8f52-667b470dd8b8'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/mUMe_deq6DM?fs=1&hl=en_US&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/mUMe_deq6DM?fs=1&hl=en_US&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <p></p> <p>And here’s a picture of the cast after we won……crazy bunch of fools we are.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TILdEiGTMqI/AAAAAAAAAf8/X1jWFWOrtrc/s1600-h/Pictures%201908%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Pictures 1908" border="0" alt="Pictures 1908" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TILdFENGC4I/AAAAAAAAAgA/2vyd_3TzUeg/Pictures%201908_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>My roomie, Rachel, got runner up this year for her hilarious little spoof about cougars......and no, I'm not talking about the ones you find on campus at BYU......or am I?...... Meet, "To Avoid an Attack."</p> <p> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:f61b46f7-1957-4319-b84e-3eb09262f25e" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="76c64c6a-fb52-4587-a491-f07ef720f9c2" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kEiKqkFQvyg?fs=1&hl=en_US" target="_new"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TILdFXLVTKI/AAAAAAAAAgE/m0kt2nsvekY/videod8bbbe91fdfd%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('76c64c6a-fb52-4587-a491-f07ef720f9c2'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/kEiKqkFQvyg?fs=1&hl=en_US&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/kEiKqkFQvyg?fs=1&hl=en_US&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <p> </p> <p>My BFF Sara was a dancer in this next one. I tell you, sometimes I think that Mormons must look nigh unto psychotic to the rest of the world. I give you, "Late Night Worker."</p> <p> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:815e0910-e7ab-426e-8deb-3295fc5a8a7e" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="0c370a89-c13d-4d78-b0a2-cf2fb78b1000" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ez2U1aM_S1E?fs=1&hl=en_US" target="_new"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TILdFkcYwKI/AAAAAAAAAgI/PCrNmalIuYA/videoc037bc9ef85a%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('0c370a89-c13d-4d78-b0a2-cf2fb78b1000'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/Ez2U1aM_S1E?fs=1&hl=en_US&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/Ez2U1aM_S1E?fs=1&hl=en_US&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <p> </p> <p>Another one of my all-time favorites is this next one, "Do Re Andy." Short. Sweet. Insane. But I love it.</p> <p> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:a9ef10a7-4bc4-416c-af62-1cc3996355db" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="0f9a64b2-dee6-4b69-961f-e5a672e2d9d8" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ilZxxooFoJ4?fs=1&hl=en_US" target="_new"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TILdGEdW0aI/AAAAAAAAAgM/1PsjJwgo5Wk/videof85d9c16c9eb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('0f9a64b2-dee6-4b69-961f-e5a672e2d9d8'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/ilZxxooFoJ4?fs=1&hl=en_US&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/ilZxxooFoJ4?fs=1&hl=en_US&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <p> </p> <p>Lastly, well......I'm not quite sure how to explain this last one. But I thought it was quite clever. Here is "Tom Cruise on Home Teaching." Nuff said.</p> <p> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:a1c1239b-6f15-4878-9e09-399d55f16abf" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="4dbb34e5-aa10-4ed3-beb1-38904262bd7f" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXGCGZa8YkE?fs=1&hl=en_US" target="_new"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TILdGZResHI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/zFy9SEZfPxw/video44f346ecb3bb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('4dbb34e5-aa10-4ed3-beb1-38904262bd7f'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/TXGCGZa8YkE?fs=1&hl=en_US&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/TXGCGZa8YkE?fs=1&hl=en_US&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <p></p> <p> </p> <p>Hooray for Hollywood……!!</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-86628642448997712132010-08-06T13:12:00.001-07:002010-08-06T13:12:05.777-07:00Finally with the Times…..<p>So, the last time I bought a new cell phone was in 2005. </p> <p>What? I liked my little blue flip-phone. It may have been utterly out-dated, but it was cute, user-friendly, and most of all, I was used to it. Plus, with the recent innovation of smart phones, my choices if I were to consider purchasing a new phone were limitless. Buying one would require much thought and research –and who wants to do all that? (Yes, my laziness has hit astounding new levels).</p> <p>Well, a few months ago, spurred on by the constant mocking of my dinosaur device by my sister, I finally caved. And bought myself an iPhone.</p> <p>Oh. My. Gosh.</p> <p>I don't know how I ever <em>lived</em> without this phone! Seriously, it has become like a third arm or something, and I feel like I would be absolutely crippled without it! I know that sounds a tad overdramatic, but it is <em>amazing</em> just how may things I use this phone for. And how often.</p> <p>The only thing is, I have gotten used to having all of its little innovations and tools, and have started to expect them in other aspects of my life. For example, it now totally frustrates me that the computer charting system I use at work does not automatically capitalize my "I" and correct my spelling. I mean, really?! (Again with the laziness....)</p> <p>Whatever. I'm in love with my new toy. And with the awesome cover I bought to go with it! </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/images/B0038C3DFG/ref=dp_image_0?ie=UTF8&n=301185&s=wireless"><img border="0" alt="Speck Products IPH3G-CNDY-A18A19 CandyShell Case for iPhone 3G, 3G S (SeaGlass Blue) - Limited Edition Color" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41bfE6wFOFL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" width="325" height="325" /></a></p> <p>It’s the little things people.</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-25722324201350701382010-06-14T20:54:00.001-07:002010-06-14T20:54:57.365-07:00Don’t Judge Me…..<p>I have a friend, Ashley, who is getting married in a couple of weeks. I am one of her bridesmaids, and one of the responsibilities I have as a part of this role is to attend all wedding-related activities. Including the Bachelorette Party.</p> <p>Now, as a Momo, this is not an activity that I usually have the opportunity to partake of.....Momos being pretty conservative and all. And to tell you the truth, I never really cared. It always seemed to me that bachelorette parties were all about strippers and drinking and clubbing; and that kind of stuff doesn't really appeal to me. Plus, I have attended enough cheesy bridal showers over the years to satisfy any need I might have for nuptual-related activities. </p> <p>Anyway, Ashley decided that she wanted to have a bachelorette weekend in Vegas. Great. Debauchery central. </p> <p>Admittedly, I went into this weekend with a pretty cynical attitude. Especially when I found out that the group was planning on going to the show "The Thunder from Down Under" on Saturday night. Great. Half-naked men. Like I don't get enough of that at work.</p> <p>But, I love Ashley. And she was the bride. And it was what she wanted to do. Soooooo, I went to the show.</p> <p>Okay, so here's the part where you don't judge me.....</p> <p>I had an absolute <strong>blast</strong> at "The Thunder from Down Under." No, really. I had such a good time! And, NO, it was not because I was looking at more six packs than you would see at a Super Bowl party. No. It was because the show is actually pretty hilarious, and not at all raunchy like I thought it was going to be. There was comedy, music, dancing, audience participation. And yes, the fact that the men were unbelievably gorgeous didn't hurt either (at one point, one of the guys ripped off his shirt to reveal what I can only describe as, well, a ten-pack, and I believe that the words "Hot. Damn." may have actually escaped my lips).</p> <p>I guess I should have known better – I mean, these boys <em>are</em> from my Motherland.</p> <p>I had a great time. And I would totally do it again. Call me a tart if you want to. You're probably right.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TBb5j7n7SGI/AAAAAAAAAfk/tlFEChWTtEE/s1600-h/Image%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Image" border="0" alt="Image" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/TBb5kJhOm_I/AAAAAAAAAfo/GluoEBr2CWo/Image_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" height="244" /></a></p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-37922496997722991212010-05-24T21:19:00.001-07:002010-05-24T21:19:22.697-07:00Sweet Child O’ Mine<p>A few weeks ago, I got a frantic phone call from Blythe. She was all worked up, barely able to form a coherent sentence. "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed. "You'll never guess what?!" I didn't know whether I should be worried or excited. She continued, "Slash is performing a last-minute concert at The Roxy THIS weekend!! We HAVE to go!!!" </p> <p>Okayeeeee. This was apparently a good frantic.</p> <p>Now, Blythe is quite the music connoisseur. But her favorite genre would have to be rock – you know, Stone Temple Pilots, Pearl Jam, Chris Cornell, etc. And Slash – well, he has to be one of the most talented people ever to pick up a guitar. </p> <p>And while I am nowhere near as into him as my beloved sister, I was a child of the 80s, and I do love Guns N' Roses. So, we bought tickets to the show (which were only 30 bucks, by the way).</p> <p>Flash-forward to Saturday night, the night of the concert. My roommate, Rachel, as well as our friends, Todd and Danielle, had also bought tickets to see Slash. It was a midnight concert (eek), so we decided to get to the The Roxy around 11. Aaaand about 75 other people decided to get there before us. </p> <p>Sheesh! For a last-minute show, there sure were a lot of people who were in the know. That's okay, though, because there were still PLENTY of people that showed up after us. And, there were a ton of people who were walking up and down the line looking for tickets to buy. Apparently, this concert sold out rather quickly – like, as in they never went on sale to the general public. Only people (like Blythe) who were notified of the pre-sale were able to buy tickets. This girl who was standing in line next to us said that tickets to the show had been selling for $150 on Craigslist that morning. Crazy! </p> <p>Here we are, standing around like a bunch of Sunset Boulevard street-walkers, waiting to get in…..</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPq1kcD5I/AAAAAAAAAes/CfAw2Xzde9w/s1600-h/Slash%20Concert%20-%20013%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="Slash Concert - 013" border="0" alt="Slash Concert - 013" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPsKY-WSI/AAAAAAAAAew/KT0dqQnmaDg/Slash%20Concert%20-%20013_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPskniUnI/AAAAAAAAAe0/YVC047KcxOg/s1600-h/Slash%20Concert%20-%20014%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="Slash Concert - 014" border="0" alt="Slash Concert - 014" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPtL84X8I/AAAAAAAAAe4/Y1d8GoaQb2A/Slash%20Concert%20-%20014_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" height="337" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPtg1zLUI/AAAAAAAAAe8/0B73Ix-myaI/s1600-h/Slash%20Concert%20-%20015%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Slash Concert - 015" border="0" alt="Slash Concert - 015" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPuFWZujI/AAAAAAAAAfA/R4Z8yc4NA5k/Slash%20Concert%20-%20015_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" height="337" /></a> </p> <p>Anyway, they FINALLY let us in around 11:50. Since The Roxy is an extremely small venue (it probably only holds about 200 people – standing room only), we actually ended up in a pretty decent location - center stage, about 4 rows of people back. We were, however, crammed into that theater like literal sardines; personal space was not an option. It's a good thing I remembered to put on deodorant that night.....</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPuqi06II/AAAAAAAAAfE/4RCGqo1dBLc/s1600-h/Slash%20Concert%20-%20018%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Slash Concert - 018" border="0" alt="Slash Concert - 018" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPvNt26uI/AAAAAAAAAfI/Fp6gFJ9_kPw/Slash%20Concert%20-%20018_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="267" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPvzTy3II/AAAAAAAAAfM/feBxwhrQp3w/s1600-h/Slash%20Concert%20-%20017%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Slash Concert - 017" border="0" alt="Slash Concert - 017" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPwGQ1NuI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/5E9lIS9_DkM/Slash%20Concert%20-%20017_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> <p>Finally, at around 12:45 (those rock stars always have to be fashionably late), the concert started.</p> <p>One word. A-MAZ-ING!!</p> <p>I tell you true, I have never seen anybody move their fingers the way Slash did that night. They moved so quickly that I could barely keep up with them. Such talent. </p> <p>Plus, I absolutely love that feeling when you are so close to the stage that you can literally feel the base thumping in your chest.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPxI6tM2I/AAAAAAAAAfU/FrpTu9_OwPA/s1600-h/Slash%20Concert%20-%20025%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="Slash Concert - 025" border="0" alt="Slash Concert - 025" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPxUk8o4I/AAAAAAAAAfY/ev_MWv2nwUw/Slash%20Concert%20-%20025_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" height="337" /></a> </p> <p>All in all, it was a crazy, fun night. Though we didn't get home until 3:45 in the morning, and I'm pretty sure that I breathed in enough second-hand marijuana smoke to be considered intoxicated, it was a truly unforgettable experience.</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPx1QwkxI/AAAAAAAAAfc/0ne0_x2tXSU/s1600-h/Slash%20Concert%20-%20048%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Slash Concert - 048" border="0" alt="Slash Concert - 048" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S_tPyYMYkSI/AAAAAAAAAfg/k2tNajtEgbE/Slash%20Concert%20-%20048_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a></p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-74948506125448728282010-04-29T18:11:00.001-07:002010-04-29T18:11:49.851-07:00Taste the Rainbow<p>A few weeks ago, Blythe, Sara and I ventured up to the Wasatch front (also known as Utah) for some crazy and interesting fun. Crazy and interesting? In Utah? Not possible, you may say.</p> <p>And ordinarily I would agree with you. </p> <p>However, on this occasion there was much fun to be had. Because.......we were in Utah to attend the Festival of Colors!</p> <p>For those of you who have never heard of this event before, the Festival of Colors is a celebratory festival held each spring at Hare Krishna temples around the world. Surprisingly enough, one of the largest Hare Krishna temples is in Spanish Fork, Utah (go figure).</p> <p>Now, I'm sure that there is some deeper meaning behind this celebration, especially for those who are actually members of that faith. However, 99.9% of the people who show up to this festival show up for one reason: to throw brightly-colored cornstarch at one another with reckless abandon. Yup. That's it. We Mormons really should get out more.....</p> <p>However, childish as it may seem – it was an absolute blast!</p> <p>When we first showed up, we started heading towards the temple lawn (where the actual festival takes place). No sooner had we even set foot on the temple grounds when I was pelted with a fistful of orange powder. </p> <p>What was this? Nobody had blown the start whistle!! I did not give my permission to be suchly violated!! I almost used my pepper spray on the deviant, as I felt that this attack had been both brazen and aggressive. </p> <p>And then Blythe reminded me that, well, that was kind of the whole idea behind the festival. Oh yeah.</p> <p>And it just got worse from there on out. Picture a mud fight, except more colorful. And corn-starchy. </p> <p>By the end of the day, every square inch of my body was rainbow-colored (no really, I was finding powder in crevices for days). My brand new WHITE bra was permanently stained lavender. And my hair-dresser asked me at my appointment two weeks later if I had been spending a lot of time in the swimming pool, because my hair had a "green tinge" to it. Great.</p> <p>But I had an awesome time, and would totally do it again. </p> <p>Here are some of my favorite pictures from the day:</p> <p> </p> <p align="center">Before the mayhem…..</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouOvUovSI/AAAAAAAAAds/3ZohFxHsH-A/s1600-h/26432_382793668596_742908596_4004833_1598846_n%5B1%5D%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="26432_382793668596_742908596_4004833_1598846_n[1]" border="0" alt="26432_382793668596_742908596_4004833_1598846_n[1]" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouOw-mPpI/AAAAAAAAAdw/gkT-LB2jDfQ/26432_382793668596_742908596_4004833_1598846_n%5B1%5D_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="254" /></a> </p> <p align="center">And so it began….</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouPvC3kAI/AAAAAAAAAd0/UiQoo2pxc-M/s1600-h/26432_382793678596_742908596_4004835_2585404_n%5B1%5D%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="26432_382793678596_742908596_4004835_2585404_n[1]" border="0" alt="26432_382793678596_742908596_4004835_2585404_n[1]" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouP60tfgI/AAAAAAAAAd4/Lm0NtbB7jVc/26432_382793678596_742908596_4004835_2585404_n%5B1%5D_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="253" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouQRIGHsI/AAAAAAAAAd8/nV1Bpu6Zfdc/s1600-h/26432_382793703596_742908596_4004839_3089279_n%5B1%5D%5B7%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="26432_382793703596_742908596_4004839_3089279_n[1]" border="0" alt="26432_382793703596_742908596_4004839_3089279_n[1]" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouQ24Cu6I/AAAAAAAAAeA/YidV872rA6o/26432_382793703596_742908596_4004839_3089279_n%5B1%5D_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="253" /></a> </p> <p align="center">This next one has to be one of my favorite pictures EVER. I can’t not laugh at it!! Apparently, Blythe reeeeaaaallly wanted to be in the picture. Love that girl. :o)</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouRegxXNI/AAAAAAAAAeE/nrN9W3_d0oQ/s1600-h/26432_382793763596_742908596_4004848_4056445_n%5B1%5D%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="26432_382793763596_742908596_4004848_4056445_n[1]" border="0" alt="26432_382793763596_742908596_4004848_4056445_n[1]" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouR205e4I/AAAAAAAAAeI/ln4YXkGNt94/26432_382793763596_742908596_4004848_4056445_n%5B1%5D_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouSYDLw_I/AAAAAAAAAeM/JT91IBRnwPw/s1600-h/26432_382793728596_742908596_4004842_1882633_n%5B1%5D%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="26432_382793728596_742908596_4004842_1882633_n[1]" border="0" alt="26432_382793728596_742908596_4004842_1882633_n[1]" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouSlMtQvI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/xoUfZ1aGWSY/26432_382793728596_742908596_4004842_1882633_n%5B1%5D_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" height="312" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Like I said, cornstarch EVERYWHERE!</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouTaYhiXI/AAAAAAAAAeU/3B9dfYikkZM/s1600-h/26432_382793683596_742908596_4004836_8125014_n%5B1%5D%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="26432_382793683596_742908596_4004836_8125014_n[1]" border="0" alt="26432_382793683596_742908596_4004836_8125014_n[1]" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouTtOPWrI/AAAAAAAAAeY/kL6ZiR3y9iM/26432_382793683596_742908596_4004836_8125014_n%5B1%5D_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="253" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouUDLEk-I/AAAAAAAAAec/PUHjYA_c1d8/s1600-h/26432_382793743596_742908596_4004844_1606258_n%5B1%5D%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="26432_382793743596_742908596_4004844_1606258_n[1]" border="0" alt="26432_382793743596_742908596_4004844_1606258_n[1]" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouUWHhvWI/AAAAAAAAAeg/rWJ2pN8eX30/26432_382793743596_742908596_4004844_1606258_n%5B1%5D_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="253" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Look how white our teeth look!</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouU2emZ5I/AAAAAAAAAek/xa6mDHGWc40/s1600-h/26432_382793758596_742908596_4004847_6517044_n%5B1%5D%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="26432_382793758596_742908596_4004847_6517044_n[1]" border="0" alt="26432_382793758596_742908596_4004847_6517044_n[1]" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/S9ouVG0olkI/AAAAAAAAAeo/hYNapN-dFTw/26432_382793758596_742908596_4004847_6517044_n%5B1%5D_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266" /></a> </p> <p>After the festival, we went out to dinner at this little Italian restaurant in Provo – without showering first. What can I say, we were starving! We got many-a-look, let me tell you. They ranged from smirks of amusement to glares from people who probably thought that we had all just escaped the loony bin.</p> <p>Whatever. They were all just jealous of our fashion sense.</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-54116336843839053382010-04-13T18:24:00.001-07:002010-04-13T18:24:50.114-07:00Ummmmmm…….<p>Okay peeps, I am a total slacker....at least of the blog kind. It seems that my life for the past few months has been kind of hectic, and as a result, I have been letting my blogging fall by the wayside. And, not only have I not been derelict in my blog <em>writing</em>, but in my blog <em>reading</em> as well. So, chances are - if anything happened in your life after Christmas-time, I probably don't know about it.</p> <p>However, I am going to try and repent of my evil ways. I can't promise that there will be many updates covering the last few months. However, I will try to be better at posting from here on out! </p> <p>Deal?</p> <p>(See new post below)</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-3767910231071124272010-04-13T18:09:00.001-07:002010-04-13T18:09:19.822-07:00A Truly Religious Experience<p>Okay, so you remember that movie "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants," where four best friends of varying shapes and sizes somehow miraculously fit into the same pair of jeans? Well, I recently had somewhat of a similar experience to this in my own life......</p> <p>A few months ago, Blythe, my friend Sara, and I decided to go shopping at the Camarillo Outlet Mall. Which, by the way, if you have never been to before, I highly recommend. It is freaking HUGE!! I mean, MASSIVE. We shopped for nearly 5 hours, and only covered a third of the shops! Sigh......... So many stores, so little time. :o) </p> <p>But back to the point of my story. We happened upon the Off 5th store, which is the outlet center for Saks 5th Avenue. Ordinarily I would consider a store like this to be a little too "shi shi foo foo" for my taste. But I was in desperate need of new jeans, and well, they had quite a selection. On SALE. </p> <p>We each grabbed about 20 pairs of different brands and styles of jeans and headed to the dressing room. And, in typical girlie fashion, proceeded to model each and every thing we tried on for each other. As we surveyed the tornado of clothes strewn about the dressing room floor, and sorted through the few items that we actually liked, we noticed something. In each of our "buy" piles, we had somehow all managed to choose the same pair of True Religion jeans. While this might not seem like an event of any consequence, let me assure you that it is. And I'll tell you why.</p> <p>The three of us have <strong>completely</strong> different body types. I am tall and hippy. Blythe is medium-height and straight-bodied. And Sara is a shorty with curves. Logically speaking, there is no WAY that one single style of jeans should look good on all three of us. And yet......we all looked spectacular in these jeans. </p> <p>Magical? I think so!!</p> <p>And, not only are they totally <em>adorable</em>, but they are probably the most <em>comfortable</em> pair of jeans that I've ever owned – which is odd for designer clothing. Plus, they make one's booty look absolutely fabulous! </p> <p>Exhibit A:</p> <p><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=3329623&id=557314818"><img style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs045.snc3/13303_331892744818_557314818_3329622_8175779_n.jpg" width="350" height="462" /></a></p> <p>I am officially in love. </p> <p>Now the only question is whether or not I should go buy another pair just so I have a spare. Hmmmmm…..that might be a bit extreme. Hmmmmmmmm…….. Or is it?</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-37178494263419827622009-11-17T18:40:00.001-08:002009-11-17T18:40:57.071-08:00Costa Rica – Day 4 – Cry Me A River<p>(Disclaimer: I am quite aware that it has been FOUR months since my Costa Rica trip. And yet, here I am, barely managing to post on the fourth DAY. What can I say? I’m a blog slacker as of late. However, I am determined to catalog this trip. At this point, though, these CR posts are really just for my journaling benefit. I really don’t expect any of you to actually read them. Just so ya know.)</p> <p>So, Day 4 started off pretty nice and relaxing. I woke up (when <em>I</em> wanted to), moseyed on downstairs, and enjoyed a nice breakfast of cheese omelet and mango juice. Odd combo, I know, but it tasted great.</p> <p>Most of the members of my group decided that they wanted to go riding on ATVs this day, but a few of us, including myself, decided to go white water rafting. This is something that I have always wanted to do. Well, at least for the past 5 years or so I have wanted to. There just isn't any white water rafting location really close to LA, and none of my friends ever seemed to have any interest in it. So I kinda forgot about it. </p> <p>Until Costa Rica, that is......</p> <p>And what better place to go water rafting! I mean, most of the country is covered in lush, green rainforests, with all sorts of crazy wildlife - which would make for quite the picturesque view!</p> <p>All together, there were five of us who wanted to go rafting. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNelEHNV7I/AAAAAAAAAa0/vhis2FrLZvo/s1600-h/3463.jpg"><img title="346" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="259" alt="346" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNelrEJb7I/AAAAAAAAAa4/h_mwvHIL6aU/346_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a></p> <p>Again, the tourist van picked us up. But instead of heading straight to the rafting location, we were first brought to the rafting company's office.</p> <p>Our rafting experience included a meal – which I had assumed would be picnic style once we got up to the rafting location. After all, the trip was supposed to be 4-5 hours long, and we were bound to get hungry at some point during all that. I was wrong, though, and they fed us our meal of chicken and rice at the office. Oooookay. I was already full of omelet and mango juice, but whatever. </p> <p>After eating, we loaded up our rafts and hit the road. Once driving, our river guides informed us that it would take an hour and a half to reach our destination. </p> <p>Excuse me?</p> <p>I'm sorry, but did I get magically transported back to LA in my sleep or something? An hour and a half? The rafting locale was supposed to be in Manuel Antonio. We were currently <em>in</em> Manuel Antonio. How could it possibly take us that long to get <em>anywhere </em>in the city, especially since rush hour traffic was definitely not a factor here. </p> <p>To make things even worse, the roads to the water rafting location were completely unpaved – and extremely bumpy. Plus, it was like 90 degrees outside, and the van had no air conditioning.</p> <p>Full stomach, bumpy roads that were jostling said full stomach, intense nausea from said bumpy roads, blazing heat and no A/C. I was sooooo not the happy camper. And I was beginning to question my decision to do this. Like, a lot.</p> <p>After about 45 minutes (of hell), we arrived at the bottom of a mountain. Were we there? Could the torture finally be over? Alas, we were still only halfway to our destination. At this point, our guides told us to take a bathroom break, as this would be the last time we would see an actual restroom for the remainder of the day (unless you count the river as a restroom......not that <em>I</em> would ever do that). They then loaded us into different vehicles, which I can only describe as Hummer-like. And we started driving. Again. However, this leg of the trip was actually kinda fun. We had to get to the top of this this huge mountain (where we would start our downhill river journey), and it was like we were off-roading the whole way up. Plus, the view at this point was spectacularly beautiful.</p> <p>We got to the top, and had a short instructional lesson with our <em>hilarious </em>guides.</p> <p align="center">Here we all are at the beginning (as evidenced by our <em>dry</em> clothes).</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNel9Ak3cI/AAAAAAAAAa8/GsP7RfBed0U/s1600-h/IMG_06503.jpg"><img title="IMG_0650" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="231" alt="IMG_0650" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNemVXlC7I/AAAAAAAAAbE/Yg0H0wHfW1Q/IMG_0650_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>And then, SPLASH! We were off!!</p> <p>And it was everything I had ever imagined.</p> <p>The water was not too crazy, not too tame, and was sooooooo much fun! Though I am sure that it didn't take my boatmates very long to tire of the screams and yelps that would emit from my mouth each time a huge wave would crash into (and over the side of) our raft.</p> <p>Here are some of the crazy pictures from the day. So funny.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNemxozsqI/AAAAAAAAAbI/Dj7cjneA7wU/s1600-h/IMG_0716%5B4%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_0716" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="258" alt="IMG_0716" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNencMXPbI/AAAAAAAAAbM/oq5AGNYOMgg/IMG_0716_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="384" border="0" /></a>  </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNennJd2_I/AAAAAAAAAbQ/I0R7omv2HVI/s1600-h/IMG_0687%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_0687" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="257" alt="IMG_0687" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNen90E3gI/AAAAAAAAAbU/X7IKbHREzDA/IMG_0687_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="384" border="0" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNeof2JkMI/AAAAAAAAAbY/uV7ItD8cJCo/s1600-h/IMG_0728%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_0728" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="257" alt="IMG_0728" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNeoouNFqI/AAAAAAAAAbc/ncYeC8Lj0yM/IMG_0728_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="384" border="0" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNepZX9P6I/AAAAAAAAAbg/kRnKpBOF-HY/s1600-h/IMG_0693%5B7%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_0693" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="257" alt="IMG_0693" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNepp5-lwI/AAAAAAAAAbk/uoKzSnWXgDg/IMG_0693_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="384" border="0" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Melissa’s face in this next picture absolutely kills me. Poor thing. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNeqOTQfuI/AAAAAAAAAbo/eN1JezMisXU/s1600-h/IMG_0781%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_0781" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="257" alt="IMG_0781" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNeqdpWrOI/AAAAAAAAAbs/r2aTv8EvzvA/IMG_0781_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="384" border="0" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNeq2TEjgI/AAAAAAAAAbw/E7tNwJroECg/s1600-h/IMG_0817%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_0817" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="257" alt="IMG_0817" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNerOJf7AI/AAAAAAAAAb0/9N7Te4Ffz84/IMG_0817_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="384" border="0" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNerrRnxPI/AAAAAAAAAb4/kD0ypHKoS7M/s1600-h/IMG_0820%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_0820" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="257" alt="IMG_0820" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNer6ArbZI/AAAAAAAAAb8/098-HtIFISo/IMG_0820_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="384" border="0" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNesbeNIoI/AAAAAAAAAcA/092IHUXAME8/s1600-h/IMG_0822%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_0822" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="257" alt="IMG_0822" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNesplm6ZI/AAAAAAAAAcE/-FVXNwaspug/IMG_0822_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="384" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>About halfway through the journey, our guides had us pull our rafts over to the side of the river, and we took a short little nature hike to this <em>gorgeous </em>waterfall just off the beaten path. Since we were already drenched, our guides had us wade into the shallow stream, and then encouraged us to play under and in the waterfall. Though, at times, we were practically being beaten to death by the onslaught of water droplets, I would have to say that this was probably one of my coolest, and most favorite moments during my time in Costa Rica. </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNetBbYEGI/AAAAAAAAAcI/cXpie-egjPc/s1600-h/IMG_0831%5B4%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_0831" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-bottom: 0px" height="364" alt="IMG_0831" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNetfTpszI/AAAAAAAAAcM/COXiRLSpcIc/IMG_0831_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a></p> <p>I am <em>so</em> not a nature girl. Ask anyone. I would rather clean my toilet than do something like camping. And I think that people who call hiking fun or leisurely are one peach short of a fruit basket. But even I couldn't help but be absolutely mesmerized this day as I took in all of my glorious, breathtaking surroundings. Nature was definitely my friend. </p> <p>This is one experience I will truly never forget. I am so glad I had the opportunity to do it, and I hope to experience it again someday.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNet9Gxm7I/AAAAAAAAAcQ/ezjFKwLHmAE/s1600-h/IMG_0845%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_0845" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-bottom: 0px" height="231" alt="IMG_0845" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SwNeuGUPDTI/AAAAAAAAAcU/cY3d4Ly_TGk/IMG_0845_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a></p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-82092056707816134682009-10-13T20:29:00.001-07:002009-10-13T20:29:53.702-07:00Pity Party<p>Last weekend, I went on a little out-of-town jaunt to San Francisco (details of this trip will be given in another post). During the two days I was gone, I had no internet service. While I found this factor to be somewhat annoying (I am a total internet junkie), I really had no choice in the matter. So there you go. </p> <p>Upon my arrival back into town, I received a voice mail message from my old roommate, Jamie. It went something like this:</p> <p>“Courtney. I just saw your facebook status update. Call me! We need to talk.”</p> <p>Eh?</p> <p>My status update? As far as I could remember, my last facebook update involved my disgruntled emotions about being viciously attacked by my flat iron. Stimulating stuff, I know……but certainly not something that warranted an over-the-phone conversation.</p> <p>I was a little worried now.</p> <p>I ran downstairs and hopped online. I had 22 facebook notifications – all of which were comments on my “relationship status.”</p> <p>Oh, no. This could <i>not</i> be good.</p> <p>I clicked on my profile. Apparently, in the two short days I had been gone, I had gotten ENGAGED.</p> <p>What the......WHAT?</p> <p>Underneath the new status, I had comments from friends, relatives, and co-workers – either sending me congratulations, or accusing me of keeping my "engagement" a secret from them. Co-workers….oh, no. <em>Some</em> of my co-workers knew. Great. That meant come Monday, <em>all </em>of my co-workers would know, and I was going to have a lot of 'splaining to do.</p> <p>How in world did this happen? </p> <p>Well, as far as I can figure, in my haste to get out of work for my flight last week, I must not have logged off of my facebook account completely, and one of my cheeky co-workers must have taken it upon themselves to marry me off. I have yet to figure out who the culprit is, but trust me - I will!! In retrospect, I guess they could have done a lot worse things to my profile than changing my relationship status....but still!! That'll teach me to play on the internet when I'm supposed to be working.</p> <p>Anyway, I quickly changed my relationship status, and posted an announcement that I was, in fact, NOT engaged. My profile now read "Courtney is no longer listed as engaged."</p> <p>Okay, so some of you are going to think that I am pretty pathetic for what I am about to say. But, as I stared at the whole "Courtney is no longer listed as engaged" status on my page, and then as I had to repeatedly explain to co-worker after co-worker that I am, in fact, not betrothed, I started to get kinda sad.</p> <p>I mean, I am happy with my life, and am totally content with my single-hood. But getting supposedly "engaged," and then subsequently "un-engaged," reminded me of just how single I am. Of how far away I am from actually uttering the words “I’m engaged” in real life (or on facebook, for that matter). And I felt a little downtrodden.</p> <p>See, I told you. Pathetic, party of one!</p> <p>Anyway, I’m okay now (no thanks to stupid facebook). And I’d like to share a little clip from my new favorite TV show, “Glee.”</p> <p>Not only does this clip cheer me up and have me rolling with laughter each time I watch it, but the song has become my new mantra.</p> <p> </p> <div class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:20b31ff2-5784-4a10-b46d-4d035e06347b" style="padding-right: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; float: none; padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-top: 0px"><div id="d3af0268-4cd1-4954-b791-96df74e2baeb" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YmSPeBLR678&hl=en&fs=1&" target="_new"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/StVFsFRKlfI/AAAAAAAAAaw/iD49VcUXWWw/video5bb25c7da237%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('d3af0268-4cd1-4954-b791-96df74e2baeb'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/YmSPeBLR678&hl=en&fs=1&&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/YmSPeBLR678&hl=en&fs=1&&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <p>Don’t stop believin’, folks.</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-59523095493953039442009-09-29T21:32:00.001-07:002009-09-29T21:32:49.404-07:00Costa Rica – Day 3 – Zippity Do Dah!!<p>So, of the plethora of activities we had to choose from while in Costa Rica, the one thing that all 20 of us wanted to do was zip-lining through the rainforest. In fact, before I left on this trip, I was told by no less than 10 of my friends and co-workers that this was the ONE thing I HAD to do while I was there.</p> <p>Because of the large size of our group, the zip-lining company suggested we make a reservation ahead of time. So Mark, our fearless organizer, took it upon himself to make this reservation - for <strong>7:30 in the morning</strong>.</p> <p>I could have killed him on the spot.</p> <p>And I think he could tell. "But, the weather’s cooler in the morning," he argued, "so we won't sweat as much." </p> <p>Sweating?! Really?! <em>That</em> was his justification?! I could care less about my perspirational activities. I was on vacation, dangit, and I didn't want to get up at dawn!!</p> <p>However, the rest of the group didn't seem to care as much about the unearthly hour of the reservation, so my pleas for extra sleep were ignored.</p> <p>So, the next morning I dragged my groggy self out of bed at 6:30 a.m., and somehow managed to zombie-walk my way down to the tourist van that was was waiting to transport us to the zip-lining location.</p> <p>Once there, we were herded into a little office where we were required to contractually sign our lives away, and then encouraged to put on copious amounts of bug spray. Oooo-kay. </p> <p>Then we got strapped into our zip-lining gear. It's a good thing I don't have issues with personal space, because some of these guys got pretty friendly cinching me into my harness. </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfKevMzWI/AAAAAAAAAXw/Oq3pHGyOht8/s1600-h/IMG_1736_JPG3.jpg"><img title="IMG_1736_JPG" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="297" alt="IMG_1736_JPG" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfK1cyx1I/AAAAAAAAAX0/56pjppH9B94/IMG_1736_JPG_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" border="0" /></a></p> <p align="center">Sexy, right?</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfLTOQDCI/AAAAAAAAAX4/IWAzdouQEGI/s1600-h/Imagen0055.jpg"><img title="Imagen 005" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="231" alt="Imagen 005" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfL40KN0I/AAAAAAAAAX8/YswIdktTb_Y/Imagen005_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a></p> <p>We were then introduced to our tour guides - all of whom had jungle names like "Monkey" or "Spider." These guys were pretty cool – and quite hilarious, I might add. They kept showing off on the zip-lines for all the girls – going down backwards, doing spinning tricks – and then they would say "But don't <em>you</em> do that."</p> <p>I thought I was going to be more scared of this activity – I have a little issue with heights. But it wasn't bad at all. I wasn't scared. I didn't even look down. All I could see was the absolute beauty of the rainforest landscape in front of me.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfMe047yI/AAAAAAAAAYA/2aYEedD9GGY/s1600-h/Imagen3133.jpg"><img title="Imagen 313" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="232" alt="Imagen 313" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfMrMMPhI/AAAAAAAAAYE/ffxfq0H8Zbs/Imagen313_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfNJYUzVI/AAAAAAAAAYI/B24QFFsXQ-o/s1600-h/Imagen2103.jpg"><img title="Imagen 210" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="232" alt="Imagen 210" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfNQvbTqI/AAAAAAAAAYM/W7Jw-9dyuz4/Imagen210_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfN3HwZ_I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/MB4XuJxYBdA/s1600-h/Imagen2883.jpg"><img title="Imagen 288" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="232" alt="Imagen 288" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfOUplY_I/AAAAAAAAAYU/ZZV09eKQeJA/Imagen288_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfOx-tFvI/AAAAAAAAAYY/lRDzCZro0SE/s1600-h/1943.jpg"><img title="194" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="259" alt="194" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfPbELAGI/AAAAAAAAAYc/zAGCQ40B4_Y/194_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfP6J_B-I/AAAAAAAAAYg/laehUizarYw/s1600-h/2163.jpg"><img title="216" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="297" alt="216" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfQMXIP1I/AAAAAAAAAYk/TFJvweDDQTg/216_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" border="0" /></a></p> <p>And apparently, I am incapable of spontaneously making any sort of a normal face in action pictures.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfQoFE9yI/AAAAAAAAAYo/DfiY_AGm_YQ/s1600-h/Imagen0723.jpg"><img title="Imagen 072" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="232" alt="Imagen 072" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfRPA48fI/AAAAAAAAAYs/F8njZd2HYxg/Imagen072_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a></p> <p>Not one useable frame from this entire day. I am such a dork.</p> <p>After zip-lining, we were hot and starving. Solution: Lunch in the pool!</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfRhL9BuI/AAAAAAAAAYw/eJR-V8snmZk/s1600-h/2433.jpg"><img title="243" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="259" alt="243" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfR4zA5lI/AAAAAAAAAY0/EPIygL02lgU/243_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a></p> <p>Whilst in the pool, we admired the many various sunburns that had been acquired at the beach the day before.</p> <p align="center">Melissa’s fried legs (P.S. She had the WORST farmer’s tan under these board shorts from a cruise she took last summer, and she <em>refused</em> to remove them the entire trip. Poor sport.).</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfSZlV5UI/AAAAAAAAAY4/YajvOi-qYCk/s1600-h/2483.jpg"><img title="248" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="259" alt="248" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfSj_Lo_I/AAAAAAAAAY8/LAlkYomKWCA/248_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a> </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">Mark’s (very blanchable) lobster back.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfSwLGwJI/AAAAAAAAAZA/dufHFA-FJyQ/s1600-h/2533.jpg"><img title="253" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="259" alt="253" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfTLdB2DI/AAAAAAAAAZE/UgWcnmjbdnk/253_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p align="center">That’s oh so sexy, Jamie.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfTh6-d8I/AAAAAAAAAZI/0ScWenPxzh0/s1600-h/2543.jpg"><img title="254" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="259" alt="254" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfT09lYTI/AAAAAAAAAZM/tniX0leMJyQ/254_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p align="center">And my favorite, Dallin’s “Neapolitan” arm sunburn.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfUFPajdI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/fLePfvHUcmc/s1600-h/2903.jpg"><img title="290" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="297" alt="290" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfUXhS1-I/AAAAAAAAAZU/QaR7lCHN1rQ/290_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" border="0" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>So, now we’re full of food. And, thanks to Mark and his early-morning wake up call (I’m not bitter or anything), completely exhausted as well. This was the result of that combination:</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfUk0JXBI/AAAAAAAAAZY/Eg-J_f6-jE0/s1600-h/2686.jpg"><img title="268" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="259" alt="268" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfVFwyGLI/AAAAAAAAAZc/CQ0aCwuU8Ug/268_thumb4.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfVXzadFI/AAAAAAAAAZg/B5W1YbQxU3I/s1600-h/2723.jpg"><img title="272" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="297" alt="272" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfVndrPnI/AAAAAAAAAZk/UcCP0TStCe4/272_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" border="0" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfWKoRzjI/AAAAAAAAAZo/aFFvTuNSnBA/s1600-h/2803.jpg"><img title="280" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="259" alt="280" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfWfpW2mI/AAAAAAAAAZs/K5nGrSWceBc/280_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfW9rqK1I/AAAAAAAAAZw/JjiE41zBPlE/s1600-h/2733.jpg"><img title="273" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="259" alt="273" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfXSAlOcI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/uVSn8hIFDYA/273_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>That’s right. A bunch of single people, passed out in various compromising positions and locations, in nothing but our bathing suits. Just another afternoon at the Playboy mansion.</p> <p>While everybody was passed out, a few of us decided to go into town and check out the local scenery. We found this AWESOME smoothie stand that made smoothies in every flavor imaginable – including passion fruit!!! Anybody who knows me well, knows that I have an infatuation with this glorious tropical gift from the gods. As a result, this smoothie stand became my second home while we were in Manuel Antonio.</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfXjMa1UI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/1olXaiATClA/s1600-h/296%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="296" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-bottom: 0px" height="297" alt="296" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfXy-GmLI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/r7liop5iY3w/296_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" border="0" /></a></p> <p align="center">I am in absolute passion-fruity heaven.</p> <p align="center"> </p> <p>Later on in the day, we had some intruders at our lovely villa. No, not the dangerous, thieving type - but the furry type.</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfYShvoxI/AAAAAAAAAaA/ESZBf8O_p6o/s1600-h/IMG_1782%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1782" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-bottom: 0px" height="259" alt="IMG_1782" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfYky1whI/AAAAAAAAAaE/_NFRCPTyH1w/IMG_1782_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfY76lvoI/AAAAAAAAAaI/_u0ZsRPxem8/s1600-h/IMG_1783%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1783" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="297" alt="IMG_1783" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfZW_zv5I/AAAAAAAAAaM/vZ51kwWs69E/IMG_1783_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" border="0" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfZhuP80I/AAAAAAAAAaQ/sOLXIPJDYlM/s1600-h/n17815999_38368816_6014325%5B1%5D%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="n17815999_38368816_6014325[1]" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="297" alt="n17815999_38368816_6014325[1]" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfaA9TbtI/AAAAAAAAAaU/oSHBuMq0R6U/n17815999_38368816_6014325%5B1%5D_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" border="0" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfaY3QuiI/AAAAAAAAAaY/zF7weGec8ZM/s1600-h/IMG_1787%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1787" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="259" alt="IMG_1787" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfamVpFsI/AAAAAAAAAac/fRy5lcHiKmc/IMG_1787_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>The rainforest that surrounded our villa was full of local wildlife – birds, sloths, lizards......and monkeys.  That afternoon, we were all just sitting there – relaxing in the pool and chatting in the family room – when all of a sudden, these little critters jumped onto the balcony and proceeded to scurry up and down our stairs and then out the back door. It was probably the last thing any of us expected to see INSIDE our living quarters. But pretty cool nonetheless. It felt like we were all on an episode of "Animal Planet."</p> <p>That night we went to dinner, and one of the funniest things EVER happened.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfbEpX5CI/AAAAAAAAAag/h28stS74XtM/s1600-h/307%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="307" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="259" alt="307" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfbY-jwLI/AAAAAAAAAak/k3F1eaBMWJg/307_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>My dear friend/roomie, Melissa, ordered herself a virgin strawberry daiquiri. In fact, we all ordered fruity smoothie drinks, and quickly consumed them upon their arrival. Well, about 15 minutes after Melissa finished hers off, she looked at me (with very dazed eyes) and said, "Something's wrong with me. I feel really dizzy." At first, I thought that she was just being overly dramatic about the fact that she was starving. But then she said it again, and proceeded to rest her forehead on the table like she was going to be sick.</p> <p>Hmph. Very strange Melissa behavior. </p> <p>I picked up her empty strawberry daiquiri glass and sniffed its remnants. Yup, you guessed it. There was nothing virgin about this drink. </p> <p>As the rest of the group learned about this mishap, fits of laughter erupted. Melissa was probably <em>the</em> most quiet and reserved person of the whole bunch. Out of everybody there, she was the one who I could <em>least</em> picture being drunk (even unintentionally). Well let me tell you – get a little booze in her, and Melissa becomes a completely different person. The girl could not stop giggling (also very strange Melissa behavior), and she kept hitting me and saying “Hey!” every five minutes.</p> <p>I tell you true, I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants.</p> <p>I kinda like drunk Melissa.</p> <p align="center">Here she is, with the intoxicating culprit in front of her.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfbygGRxI/AAAAAAAAAao/92b6BWpLMQk/s1600-h/311%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="311" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-bottom: 0px" height="297" alt="311" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SsLfcNEETOI/AAAAAAAAAas/_yVrQUmhvcw/311_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" border="0" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Okay, so that’s it for Day 3. Sheesh, at the rate I’m going, I won’t be done with this series until <em>next</em> Fourth of July!! Sorry folks.</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-6991008066850027412009-08-29T01:03:00.001-07:002009-08-29T01:03:09.706-07:00Costa Rica – Day 2 – Chill…..<p>So, my roommate during this trip was my good friend Melissa.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SpjgsltNwiI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/G0L4iKkf_ik/s1600-h/530%5B4%5D.jpg"><img title="530" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="530" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SpjgtEok0FI/AAAAAAAAAXU/f2FmOJDU2VI/530_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p> <p>Melissa and I have been friends for 5 years now. We met in LA, and immediately bonded over some commonalities: 1) We are both surgical nurses (I work in the Operating Room, she works in Recovery), and 2) We are both utterly retarded and completely hopeless when it comes to dealing with members of the opposite sex.</p> <p>However, despite these commonalities, on this trip Melissa and I remembered that we have one really big difference, too - we are thermostatically incompatible.</p> <p>Yes, it was bloody hot in Costa Rica - I will admit that. But Melissa cranked the air conditioning in our room down to 60 degrees, turned on the fan that was above our bed, slept with no covers on - and was still complaining that she was hot. And there I was - poor little Courtney - sleeping in flannel pajama pants, a long-sleeved shirt, a sweatshirt, socks, and completely wrapped in the blanket. It was quite the ridiculous scenario, I tell you.</p> <p>Anyway, despite our temperature differences, Melissa and I both crashed that first night. And we slept in the next day. And it was soooooo great.</p> <p>Since we had had kind of a crazy and stressful time getting to Costa Rica, the group decided that we would just take it kind of easy and have a chill first day. And what is the most chill thing one can do in an equatorial Central American country? The beach, of course!</p> <p>A couple of the guys in our group had woken up at 5:30 (?) that morning to surf. They told the rest of us that they had found a really awesome beach, located kind of in a harbor,  that we should check out. So, we threw on our suits, hopped in the cars, and drove there.</p> <p>Soooooo, the beach - she <em>was</em> nice. Only one problem, though. It was now high tide. And the shore - she was now an island. If we wanted to get to the nice beach, we were going to have to swim across a river for it.</p> <p>No problem. Yes, the distance to the other side was a little wide, but the water couldn't be <em>too</em> deep, and the current seemed pretty docile. My friends Mark and Tanya crossed first, holding their beach bags above their heads, with little effort. Next, my friend Lindsay and I crossed. I was swimming backwards, with my head bobbing just above the surface, holding the mesh bag with my beach items securely above it. It actually wasn't that bad. The water <em>was</em> deeper than I'd expected - too deep to touch the bottom. But it wasn't overly strenuous to cross.</p> <p>Until the current picked up. Which was when I was about halfway across the river.</p> <p>Now, I fancy myself a pretty good swimmer. I was raised in San Diego, and spent much of my childhood on the beaches of North County. But my swimming capabilities apparently drop dramatically when I am fighting a strong ocean current holding a ridiculously huge bag over my head. </p> <p>Lindsay and I started drifting downstream, away from the rest of our friends. As I struggled against the current, I looked back at the rocky shore where I had first started. Since my embarkment, some locals had gathered - and they now were pointing and laughing at Lindsay and me. I could almost hear them now, mocking the silly, ignorant, American females who had actually tried to swim across the deep river - during high tide no less - to reach the beach shore. Looking back, it probably wasn't the smartest idea.....but it made sense at the time.</p> <p>Well, Lindsay and I did eventually make it across. But it wasn't easy. And we were waaaay downstream from where we were supposed to be. And let’s just say that my beach bag was no longer <strong>above</strong> my head by the time we reached the shore. Yeah, I completely ruined my copy of "The Host."</p> <p>Everybody else in the group was able to hitch a ride across the river in a motorboat that suddenly decided to show up. Yeah, apparently one of the locals saw an opportunity to make some money by charging everybody a dollar each to shuttle them across the gorge. And where was this helpful Samaritan when I was drowning, I ask you?</p> <p>I didn't bring my camera to the beach (thank goodness), so I don't have any pictures of this ordeal. But I kinda wish I did. Or at least a video....</p> <p>We spent the rest of the afternoon at two different beaches - the above-referenced one, and one that was further north. I  made a rookie mistake, though. Although it was quite warm outside, there was a thick cloud cover, making the weather seem really overcast. This lured me into a false sense of security when it came to sun exposure, and I did not reapply my sunscreen nearly as often as I should have. Boy did I pay for that. By the end of the day, I had turned a lovely shade of dark pink. And I am sure that if my mother had been there, she would have lectured me ad nauseam for these capricious actions. (When my sisters and I were kids, she used to lather us with Bullfrog sunscreen and make us wear t-shirts at the beach. Do you think that that could be considered child abuse?) </p> <p>That night, we all went out to dinner at a restaurant called "El Avion." Translation: The airplane. Strange name for an eating establishment, I know. But the restaurant was built around an actual old WWII airplane.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SpjgtWkisyI/AAAAAAAAAXY/si4DBXspRBs/s1600-h/IMG_1733_JPG%5B4%5D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1733_JPG" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="IMG_1733_JPG" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SpjgtptBIII/AAAAAAAAAXc/9lQdJMbsxQ0/IMG_1733_JPG_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p> <p>They even used one of the wings as the bar counter. Kinda funny. </p> <p>So, the picture below (taken at the plane restaurant) is one of my favorite from the whole trip. </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SpjguDkJh0I/AAAAAAAAAXg/QA5ULv_swzA/s1600-h/142%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="142" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="142" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SpjguRzq7PI/AAAAAAAAAXk/4y6xaZAuOPY/142_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p> <p>It may not look like much to the outside observer, but it is the implication behind the photo that I love.</p> <p>Melissa HATES having her picture taken. And, as previously mentioned, I am a photo whore. I am constantly seeking out the perfect shot, and will keep snapping away until I get it. Well, I was trying to get a cute picture of Melissa and I with our matching Pina Coladas, and I just couldn't get one that I liked. Finally, 15 shots later (I know, I need help), I did. Later, when I was looking through all the discards, I came upon this picture and busted up laughing at Melissa's expression. She looks like she is <em>literally</em> being tortured. I can just see it in her eyes, a cry for help - "Save me, please, from this flashbulb-obsessed maniac!!" She is such a good friend to put up with me all the time.</p> <p>When we got home, we discovered that we had a little visitor.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Spjgu_iZN4I/AAAAAAAAAXo/cyGSjf1_hiU/s1600-h/157%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="157" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="157" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Spjgvf15_OI/AAAAAAAAAXs/9Aq05IBOLvA/157_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p> <p>A 7-legged one, to be precise.</p> <p>Yup, in Costa Rica, they grow everything big – including insects. Once spotted, this little intruder evoked much screaming and pointing and running from our little group. Jonathan decided that he would try and catch it humanely, so that he could release it back into the wild from whence it came.</p> <p>Yeah, that was a good idea in theory. Excepting that he tried to catch it using a bread basket full of gaps. Nice, Jonathan. </p> <p>Spidey <em>was</em> eventually captured and set free, but it was not without much effort and drama – and noise, from the terrified bystanders. </p> <p>Well, that is it for Day 2. Phew! I promise that the next few posts will not be such novels!</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-79430748804652473912009-08-19T17:32:00.001-07:002009-08-20T18:20:38.659-07:00Costa Rica – Day 1 – And Away We Go!!<p>Okay, so I took nearly 500 pictures during my week in Costa Rica. That’s right. I’m a photo whore. </p><p>Ever since I arrived home, I have been asking myself “How in the <em>world</em> am I going to fit all of my great Costa Rica stories and photos into one blog post?” How? The task seemed so daunting, so massive. Nigh unto impossible.</p><p>So, as somewhat of a solution, I have decided to give each day in Costa Rica its own separate blog post - for my sanity and yours, lest you are all forced to endure one single post longer than the King James version of the Bible. </p><p>Perhaps this is not the best solution. I may end up boring you all to tears, and cause a disinterest in all things Central America in the process. Oh, well . I don't care. This blog is really more of a journal anyway.</p><p>And on that note, here we go……….</p><p>So, a few months back, my friend Mark decided that he wanted to have one last blow-out trip before he left LA to move to Salt Lake City. And he chose Costa Rica as the destination. So, he sent out an email with all the details, and when all was said and done, 16 of us had committed to go. That’s right. Mormons always travel in packs. A couple of weeks later, 4 more people decided to join the fray (though they had to make separate travel and lodging arrangements), bringing the grand total to 20 people – 12 girls, and 8 boys.</p><p>Our flight to Costa Rica was a red-eye flight on the Fourth of July. We literally went from watching fireworks on a friend's rooftop to the airport. </p><p align="center">Leanne and I freezing our buns off on the roof</p><p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZOq-prfI/AAAAAAAAAUM/Q1_20sgP9uI/s1600-h/0083.jpg"><img title="008" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="008" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZO3gIBaI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/vbzNUQFc4cU/008_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p><p>LAX was a madhouse! I would have never imagined that there could be that many people at the airport at such an insane hour of the morning. </p><p>Finally, at <strong>1:45 am</strong>, we boarded the plane.</p><p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZP5qahQI/AAAAAAAAAUU/KG97qC8tzRk/s1600-h/0333.jpg"><img title="033" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="033" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZQM3-QNI/AAAAAAAAAUY/pyXi5nE0WNY/033_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p><p>(Side note: We flew TACA, which is a Central American airline. Having never visited Central/South America before, this was not an airline I was familiar with. But airlines are all pretty much the same, right? Uh, yeah.......Word to the wise - NEVER fly TACA. I feared for my life on more than one occasion, including a 5 second engine failure/nose dive on the return flight, whilst I was sleeping, no less. Talk about a rude awakening! Also, I'm pretty sure I got food poisoning from one of their meals. Upon returning to LA, one of my Hispanic co-workers informed me that not even the Central Americans fly TACA because of its reputation. Great.)</p><p>We had a 5 hour flight ahead of us, and luckily most of the group was pretty exhausted by the time our plane took off (and those who weren't exhausted quickly dosed themselves with Tylenol PM).</p><p>My row-mates, Jonathan and Austen, and I decided that we weren't quite ready to catch some Zs, so we opted to play a friendly game of UNO.</p><p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZQid7uvI/AAAAAAAAAUc/rM8C5M4pIOg/s1600-h/0376.jpg"><img title="037" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="337" alt="037" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZRIE4rmI/AAAAAAAAAUg/vPow1PCbHDs/037_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" border="0" /></a></p><p>Jonathan, however, quickly lost interest in the card game, and passed out under his blanky. </p><p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZRZBVAOI/AAAAAAAAAUk/98H0z2VzsLY/s1600-h/0383.jpg"><img title="038" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="337" alt="038" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZR4T-bcI/AAAAAAAAAUo/mdIIDDcnyL0/038_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" border="0" /></a></p><p>After our 5 hour flight, we had an hour layover in El Salvador. And seeing as it was now 7:00 in the morning, and all we had eaten was some stale plane crackers and some very questionable plane pancakes, we decided to get some breakfast at the airport. We bought some pupusas in a little cafe - and they were delicious!</p><p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZSSXRoEI/AAAAAAAAAUs/wLmqcfEhwA0/s1600-h/0523.jpg"><img title="052" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="052" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZS9JrYTI/AAAAAAAAAUw/FRV3HRnKGpU/052_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p><p>And then we were off on our connecting flight to San Jose, Costa Rica, which was another hour away. </p><p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZTS59yYI/AAAAAAAAAU0/E5fz4Z6Mpmc/s1600-h/0553.jpg"><img title="055" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="055" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZTz0yHjI/AAAAAAAAAU4/mYTmZJTxrmY/055_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center">“Pura Vida!” We finally made it!</p><p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZUVhTCyI/AAAAAAAAAU8/xptHEV6XGZI/s1600-h/0583.jpg"><img title="058" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="058" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZUixqQdI/AAAAAAAAAVA/_U6g0fNQ1GM/058_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p><p> </p><p align="center">Going through customs</p><p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZVPRc_SI/AAAAAAAAAVE/mFViCjaCT_g/s1600-h/0563.jpg"><img title="056" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: inline; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="056" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZVhrGvhI/AAAAAAAAAVI/ahfkc7ZZ31g/056_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a> </p><p></p><p> </p><p align="center">Our class picture. Aren’t we all such well behaved little children?</p><p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZV9YtEdI/AAAAAAAAAVM/MS0vbqMPB38/s1600-h/0643.jpg"><img title="064" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: inline; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="064" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZWHlyWwI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/0vR4snrlByw/064_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a> </p><p>Because there were 16 of us, we needed 4 rental cars. After haggling with the car company about some weird insurance they said we needed, but we had never heard of, we finally set out for our first destination, Manuel Antonio - which was a 3-hour car ride away (this was a veeeery long first day, by the way). </p><p>We were quick to learn that roads in Costa Rica - yeah, not so simple. First of all, there is an extreme lack of road-signage in general. One must be vigilant, and pay <em><b>very</b></em> close attention to road maps and landmarks, lest one ends up in Panama. </p><p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZWsg7QOI/AAAAAAAAAVU/Veygh8aA5QI/s1600-h/0763.jpg"><img title="076" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="076" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZW_X00pI/AAAAAAAAAVc/sQllKD_TSE0/076_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p><p>Second of all, several of these so-called "highways" go from two-lane to one-lane without any warning. That's one lane TOTAL. Yeah, we had to take turns sharing the road with the oncoming traffic. Weird, and somewhat aggravating. </p><p>This is one example of this strange phenomenon. P.S., this suspension bridge was so old and rickety, it looked like it belonged in an “Indiana Jones” movie. Yet another instance where Costa Rica made me take my life in my hands…….</p><p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZXHCYnPI/AAAAAAAAAVg/IR2ggcIgaEY/s1600-h/0733.jpg"><img title="073" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="337" alt="073" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZXozTMfI/AAAAAAAAAVk/wEzz60Cil5Q/073_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" border="0" /></a></p><p>Third of all, apparently the Costa Rican government doesn't believe in paving all of its major roads (?). Not only was this extremely bumpy, but very carsick-making. It also made sleeping through the car ride completely impossible.</p><p>Anyway, because of the above driving factors, my car (I was NOT the driver) made a wrong turn about 10 minutes into the trip. Yeah, we're smart. But we <em>did</em> figure out that we had made that wrong turn after about another 5 minutes, so I guess we're not complete idiots. At that point, though, we were completely separated from the other three cars - left to fend for ourselves in the Costa Rican outback. Somehow, though, we managed to make it to Manuel Antonio - and what's more, we were the first carload to arrive!!</p><p>This was our Manuel Antonio housing - Tanager Villa at Manuel Antonio Estates. </p><p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZX9706oI/AAAAAAAAAVo/Ju-ryNvzAt4/s1600-h/4353.jpg"><img title="435" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="337" alt="435" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZYay1eMI/AAAAAAAAAVs/VrzMk3XmfUs/435_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZYlxtNdI/AAAAAAAAAVw/KwEJ69eNr38/s1600-h/3414.jpg"><img title="341" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="266" alt="341" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZY7VHopI/AAAAAAAAAV0/OKRBQzVcwsc/341_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZZaDBjCI/AAAAAAAAAV4/CaDl5tIxPlo/s1600-h/IMG_17936.jpg"><img title="IMG_1793" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="229" alt="IMG_1793" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZZzoO0wI/AAAAAAAAAV8/kGVSetGpRps/IMG_1793_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" border="0" /></a></p><p>This four-story villa had 8 bedrooms, 8 bathrooms, a kitchen, a pool, a balcony - and was pure heaven. This was our gorgeous view from the balcony.</p><p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZaHopzpI/AAAAAAAAAWA/WB8zBcxc43Y/s1600-h/5456_102345792309_564152309_2015943_%5B1%5D.jpg"><img title="5456_102345792309_564152309_2015943_1909693_n[1]" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="5456_102345792309_564152309_2015943_1909693_n[1]" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZaiwo2mI/AAAAAAAAAWE/ag-W9WCR47U/5456_102345792309_564152309_2015943_%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p><p>Delicious, if you ask me.</p><p>Okay, so now we've arrived. It's 85 degrees out and really humid. We're hot, sweaty, and really want to get out of our traveling clothes and into our bathing suits. Just one problem. Our suitcases are in another one of the cars!!!!</p><p>Are you freaking kidding me? I knew I shouldn't have worn workout pants on the plane!! </p><p>The only good thing about this whole situation was that we got first dibs on choosing our rooms, so I guess that kind of made up for the ridiculously hot wardrobe.</p><p>And, at least we had arranged to have dinner waiting for us when we arrived. We were starving, so we absolutely gorged ourselves on the wonderful food, and that seemed to pass the time a little.</p><p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZa7cLFsI/AAAAAAAAAWI/aEOhLO0hYD8/s1600-h/083%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="083" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="083" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZbzip-MI/AAAAAAAAAWM/xcpkx1u5DrQ/083_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZcJJ5TAI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/5dPN317UIMY/s1600-h/080%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="080" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="337" alt="080" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZckx59UI/AAAAAAAAAWU/XPKwbsG9s4w/080_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" border="0" /></a></p><p>Finally, <strong>TWO</strong> <b>HOURS</b> later, the other cars showed up. Apparently, they made a <em>really</em> wrong turn.</p><p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZc_N925I/AAAAAAAAAWY/7PoJttj-XDo/s1600-h/091%5B4%5D.jpg"><img title="091" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="297" alt="091" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZdD9E4uI/AAAAAAAAAWc/CUWO8wne8uI/091_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZeNgw9lI/AAAAAAAAAWg/Y9OvGwvg1-g/s1600-h/092%5B4%5D.jpg"><img title="092" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="297" alt="092" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZeu6gpSI/AAAAAAAAAWk/HpjEDVrHKi0/092_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" border="0" /></a></p><p>Now that we had our luggage back, it was time to bring on the swimming pool!! And the silliness.</p><p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZexRnOZI/AAAAAAAAAWo/5TTfuIqeH10/s1600-h/103%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="103" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="103" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZfVdO_cI/AAAAAAAAAWs/7b7rQK0RB0A/103_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center">Yes, we’re all adults. Why do you ask?</p><p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZfuA_EcI/AAAAAAAAAWw/n7uN5baqcYc/s1600-h/105%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="105" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="105" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZgH_NHCI/AAAAAAAAAW0/ipJf9MQizpM/105_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p><p>And what LDS single adult gathering would be complete without a rousing game of full-contact Nertz?</p><p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZgVq7t7I/AAAAAAAAAW4/m7Nr7yhVAXE/s1600-h/298%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="298" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="298" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZgpjRh2I/AAAAAAAAAW8/CIr1aKp4hVM/298_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZg28SxYI/AAAAAAAAAXA/lknlYa-6sjQ/s1600-h/111%5B6%5D.jpg"><img title="111" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="337" alt="111" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZhfcP5LI/AAAAAAAAAXE/Y-QphA8srLY/111_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" border="0" /></a></p><p>All in all, it was a really wonderful first day in Costa Rica. But boy were we tired by the end of it!</p><p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZhtVYs5I/AAAAAAAAAXI/oDS1z8CwuTE/s1600-h/106%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="106" style="BORDER-TOP-WIDTH: 0px; DISPLAY: block; BORDER-LEFT-WIDTH: 0px; FLOAT: none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: auto; MARGIN-RIGHT: auto; BORDER-RIGHT-WIDTH: 0px" height="244" alt="106" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SoyZh4Rd_AI/AAAAAAAAAXM/EmsI1LRzdMY/106_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p>Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-15224860514134716522009-07-25T12:53:00.001-07:002009-07-25T12:53:52.312-07:00Welcome to the Insanity that is My Family<p>So, in my family, we are all HUGE Monty Python fans. I guess it is just all part of being raised by an Australian.</p> <p>I understand that this kind of humor is somewhat of an acquired taste (for Americans, in particular). But if you ever want to see any member of the Sudweeks clan in absolute fits of laughter, just sit us down in front of anything starring John Cleese or Michael Palin, and pure hilarity is almost guaranteed.</p> <p>Well, my sister, Blythe, and her boyfriend, Easton, are currently backpacking across western Europe (They even managed to visit the foothills of Mount Tibidabo. $20 to the person who knows what that is referencing.)</p> <p>So, of course, while they were in Scotland, they had to stop at Doune Castle. This castle is the location where they filmed a famous scene from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," in which King Arthur and his knights have a confrontation with some silly French guards.</p> <p>And, so of course, Blythe had to re-enact part of this scene (hence, the French accent).</p> <p>Most of you will probably not find this re-enactment to be funny in the least. In fact, it may cause some of you to think that there is a strain of mild retardation that runs in my family.  </p> <p>All I can say is, I have never been more proud to call Blythe my sister.</p> <embed src="http://images.video.msn.com/flash/soapbox1_1.swf" width="432" height="364" id="0cfbqthl" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowFullScreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" pluginspage="http://macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" flashvars="player.c=v&player.v=97baf294-47be-41b5-b4dd-b8564b43b608&mkt=en-US&ifs=true&fr=shared"></embed><noembed><a href="http://video.msn.com/?mkt=en-US&playlist=videoByUuids:uuids:97baf294-47be-41b5-b4dd-b8564b43b608&showPlaylist=true" target="_new" title="Doune Castle">Video: Doune Castle</a></noembed> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-58735962999756223812009-07-04T18:26:00.001-07:002009-07-04T18:26:14.134-07:00Blog Blackout<p>So, first of all, happy Fourth of July everyone!!</p> <p>As I write this, I am mere hours away from taking a flight outta here – to Costa Rica!!</p> <p>That’s right – for the next week, I will basking on the beaches and swinging through the rainforests of Costa Rica’s western coastline, and I couldn’t be more excited!!</p> <p>Since the internet availability is kind of unpredictable down there, I probably won’t be posting during my vacay. However, once I get back…………get ready for a deluge!</p> <p>On a separate, but somewhat related, summertime note, look at these totally cute flip-flops I just bought.</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SlABMxrzlyI/AAAAAAAAAUE/saY-HrcS0as/s1600-h/Shoes_iAEC1028237%5B1%5D%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="Shoes_iAEC1028237[1]" style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-bottom: 0px" height="284" alt="Shoes_iAEC1028237[1]" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SlABNQlV2uI/AAAAAAAAAUI/W73dNad3yJ0/Shoes_iAEC1028237%5B1%5D_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" border="0" /></a></p> <p>Aren’t they adorable?</p> <p>See you in a week!!</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-38153158252382072712009-06-24T21:42:00.001-07:002009-06-24T21:42:44.640-07:00Girls Just Wanna Have Fu-uun……..<p>The prodigious lyrics to this Cyndi Lauper tune certainly rang true a couple of delightful weekends ago. </p> <p>Blythe and I decided it would be fun to have a little girls’ getaway weekend in Las Vegas. So, I drove out from Cali with my friends Kim and Sara, and she drove out from Utah with her friends Kim and Nikki (I know, Kim overload). Blythe’s boyfriend, Easton, was kind enough to let us stay at his awesome loft, and the mischief ensued from the very second we all got together.</p> <p>It was a most awesome event.</p> <p>The weekend was filled with a plethora of activities; however they  consisted of a few main themes:</p> <p><u><strong>Eating:</strong></u></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkL_7oL2QhI/AAAAAAAAARU/TdQldLsEvQA/s1600-h/VegasBlythe0563.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Blythe 056" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="214" alt="Vegas - Blythe 056" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkL_78pQH0I/AAAAAAAAARY/E5SoWOa0l-M/VegasBlythe056_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" align="left" border="0" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Mmmmmm….</p> <p>Serendipity Frozen Hot Chocolate. Decadent!!</p> <p>  </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkL_8TmHzoI/AAAAAAAAARc/XX4Hi0hxVJM/s1600-h/VegasCourtney0011.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Courtney 001" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="Vegas - Courtney 001" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkL_8ma_iVI/AAAAAAAAARg/sssGjAt5DKo/VegasCourtney001_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" align="right" border="0" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p>Sara chowing down on some Baja Fresh!</p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkL_9d90OSI/AAAAAAAAARk/I5k_6VU_I04/s1600-h/VegasCourtney041.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Courtney 041" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="215" alt="Vegas - Courtney 041" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkL_9mxfgiI/AAAAAAAAARo/dRHu4K17QLE/VegasCourtney041_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" align="left" border="0" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p>Breakfast at The Original Pancake House.</p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkL_-Lg2EKI/AAAAAAAAARs/_Oqa884onQU/s1600-h/VegasCourtney0532.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Courtney 053" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="Vegas - Courtney 053" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkL_-RhcpzI/AAAAAAAAARw/IubA0XD3nh8/VegasCourtney053_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" align="right" border="0" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p>The waffle fries in the bottom right corner were to die for!</p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkL__FcQ5kI/AAAAAAAAAR0/CWkdXTwgbDo/s1600-h/VegasBlythe059.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Blythe 059" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="214" alt="Vegas - Blythe 059" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkL__t4h4tI/AAAAAAAAAR4/z2B8e1uXl9A/VegasBlythe059_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" align="left" border="0" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p>F.A.O. Schweetz!!</p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p>Now, I must exclude Miss Kimothy from this particular activity. She was on some crazy diet that consisted of plain chicken breasts, Mahi Mahi, and broccoli (which made her quite gassy, I might add). Hence, all she would “eat” on our food outings was organic herbal tea. </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAAGHEZdI/AAAAAAAAAR8/DkcNnuk1KRk/s1600-h/Vegas%20-%20Courtney%20055.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Courtney 055" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="297" alt="Vegas - Courtney 055" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAAotAvcI/AAAAAAAAASA/omZKJ1WVMJ0/Vegas%20-%20Courtney%20055_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" border="0" /></a></p> <p>I will say this – the girl has some <em>amazing</em> self-control. NOT pig out in Las Vegas? Almost unheard of.</p> <p> </p> <p><strong><u>Relaxing in/at the pool:</u></strong></p> <p><strong><u></u></strong></p> <div style="clear: both"></div> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMABSKdEqI/AAAAAAAAASE/AKKwRcFLlVk/s1600-h/VegasBlythe0156.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Blythe 015" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="243" alt="Vegas - Blythe 015" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMABzb_KvI/AAAAAAAAASI/pTNA4fubyjg/VegasBlythe015_thumb4.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMACQX6xGI/AAAAAAAAASM/WLE5aEno2JA/s1600-h/VegasBlythe0233.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Blythe 023" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="Vegas - Blythe 023" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMACxcq3-I/AAAAAAAAASQ/G1j6omsbvhU/VegasBlythe023_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMADWnReAI/AAAAAAAAASU/QP0Pjy4eHF0/s1600-h/VegasBlythe0383.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Blythe 038" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="Vegas - Blythe 038" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMADgnXf5I/AAAAAAAAASY/aDJ4yUK654s/VegasBlythe038_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p> <p>You’ll notice that there are no pool pictures of me. That is because I plan on destroying all evidence of the fact that I was ever in a bathing suit that weekend. Pasty white. Not pretty. Went to a tanning salon last week and bought a month’s worth of tans. </p> <p> </p> <p><u><strong>Gallivanting like fools around Caesar’s Palace:</strong></u></p> <p>Ummmm……I really have no good explanation for these pictures. Excepting that six hungry girls can <em>always</em> find some way to get into trouble when they are let loose in a casino that has an ample supply of props. Nuff said.</p> <p align="center">Playing around in a revolving door</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAELwiqZI/AAAAAAAAASc/QoHblzvGBDI/s1600-h/VegasBlythe0407.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Blythe 040" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="270" alt="Vegas - Blythe 040" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAEqXSzyI/AAAAAAAAASg/tNLb3uhMavM/VegasBlythe040_thumb5.jpg?imgmax=800" width="359" border="0" /></a></p> <div style="clear: both"></div> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">Playing around with David’s, um….jewels.</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAE3sQ8lI/AAAAAAAAASk/QLlULo6Kxz8/s1600-h/VegasBlythe0435.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Blythe 043" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="351" alt="Vegas - Blythe 043" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAFTake8I/AAAAAAAAASo/Gd2TmjET5xI/VegasBlythe043_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="264" border="0" /></a></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">Notice Kim’s pout. She’s just realized that she can’t partake in the chocolatey goodness!</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAGGXOTaI/AAAAAAAAASs/8Tr3O2YJbko/s1600-h/VegasBlythe0454.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Blythe 045" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="270" alt="Vegas - Blythe 045" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAGnxE6fI/AAAAAAAAASw/K0wMJJz5Jc8/VegasBlythe045_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="359" border="0" /></a></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">Shazaam!!</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAHfXtomI/AAAAAAAAAS0/LSttqwmdAW0/s1600-h/VegasNikki0066.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Nikki 006" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="270" alt="Vegas - Nikki 006" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAHvOVYYI/AAAAAAAAAS4/9I5pwNYulZQ/VegasNikki006_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="359" border="0" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p align="center">Ah ha!! Finally, a knight in shining armor!!</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAIc5YxbI/AAAAAAAAAS8/1crAJl-84c0/s1600-h/VegasBlythe0503.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Blythe 050" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="270" alt="Vegas - Blythe 050" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAIzB2jvI/AAAAAAAAATA/6ylrGsfC4Yg/VegasBlythe050_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="359" border="0" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>They say that Vegas is supposed to be like Disneyland for grown-ups. I think that it lived up to this reputation, don’t you?</p> <p> </p> <p><strong><u>Playing with the “Pink Glitter-Bouncy-Ball O’ Fun”:</u></strong></p> <p>So, on their way down to Vegas, Blythe’s carload stopped in Beaver, Utah. There, at a podunk little gas station, they picked up what has to be the best, most entertaining little toy ever known to man.</p> <p>The “Pink Glitter-Bouncy-Ball O’ Fun.”</p> <p>A bouncy ball? What’s so fun about a bouncy ball?</p> <p>Well, let me tell you. This is no <em><strong>ordinary</strong></em> bouncy ball. First of all, it is HUGE – the biggest one that I’ve ever seen by far (that’s what she said – he he). Secondly, it is bright pink – perfect for a girls’ weekend. Thirdly, it has glitter and – wait for it, wait for it – a strobe light on the inside, so that when you bounce it, the ball sparkles and shimmers like a disco ball.</p> <p>So. Awesome!!</p> <p>This ingenious little toy provided us with hours (well maybe not hours) of laughter and entertainment, both on land and at sea.</p> <p>(You see how red Blythe’s eyes are in the following picture? Well, if you could read what the bracelet she is holding says, you would understand why. Little devil.)</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAJeEJK_I/AAAAAAAAATE/qP_VJUFZyPk/s1600-h/VegasCourtney0303.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Courtney 030" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="259" alt="Vegas - Courtney 030" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAJ0CRe6I/AAAAAAAAATI/lfN5CxrWT3E/VegasCourtney030_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a></p> <div style="clear: both"></div> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAKdAkm2I/AAAAAAAAATM/nbcFS94RUqI/s1600-h/VegasBlythe0222.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Blythe 022" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="Vegas - Blythe 022" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAKo-El3I/AAAAAAAAATQ/mNMgTvTRQaM/VegasBlythe022_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" align="left" border="0" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMALAozfhI/AAAAAAAAATU/ccgoh4RaPCQ/s1600-h/VegasCourtney0285.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Courtney 028" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="Vegas - Courtney 028" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMALUYvZ-I/AAAAAAAAATY/cN2Z_oJJ-4g/VegasCourtney028_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" align="right" border="0" /></a></p> <div style="clear: both"></div> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAL5TPirI/AAAAAAAAATc/A4t2L2fQLgA/s1600-h/VegasBlythe0343.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Blythe 034" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="259" alt="Vegas - Blythe 034" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAMWIJZ9I/AAAAAAAAATg/4aoHC5akTTg/VegasBlythe034_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>At the end of our trip, right before we were about to leave the loft, Kim H. decided that she wanted to know what would happen to the “Pink Glitter-Bouncy-Ball O’ Fun” if she dropped it off the balcony. Mind you, the loft is on the 9th story of the building. </p> <p>Bets were placed. The ball was dropped. And wouldn’t you know it, that little bugger didn’t even end up with a scratch on it!! It is apparently invincible!!</p> <p>The only one who didn’t think that the ball would burst upon impact was Kim W., so she got to take it home as a prize. </p> <p>I want one too!!</p> <p> </p> <p><strong><u>Being educated on the “ins and outs” of tea bags by Ms. Kimberly W.:</u></strong></p> <p>The girl is truly a kook. What else can I say? And I love her for it!</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAOJMr_MI/AAAAAAAAATk/FOZYDNC7j1Q/s1600-h/VegasCourtney0435.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Courtney 043" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="274" alt="Vegas - Courtney 043" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAOk0f0NI/AAAAAAAAATo/gZ-Gty-UCS8/VegasCourtney043_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="364" border="0" /></a></p> <div style="clear: both"></div> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAO03rQjI/AAAAAAAAATs/0a6tXjUBiFs/s1600-h/VegasCourtney0022.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Courtney 002" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="Vegas - Courtney 002" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAPXWVobI/AAAAAAAAATw/CqOgNg79JX4/VegasCourtney002_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" align="left" border="0" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAP6xDZrI/AAAAAAAAAT0/28Xag--BkIc/s1600-h/VegasCourtney0062.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Courtney 006" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="Vegas - Courtney 006" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAQGIhPII/AAAAAAAAAT4/bk35Zd_z3xg/VegasCourtney006_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" align="right" border="0" /></a></p> <div style="clear: both"></div> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAQqL6gnI/AAAAAAAAAT8/SJlEhVCQ72A/s1600-h/VegasCourtney0073.jpg"><img title="Vegas - Courtney 007" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="337" alt="Vegas - Courtney 007" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/SkMAQ9PhSbI/AAAAAAAAAUA/FoKcJZUR0dY/VegasCourtney007_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" border="0" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>This girls’ weekend was a total blast, and I can’t wait to go back again!!</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-930006489262465601.post-11154741202686651452009-06-16T17:58:00.001-07:002009-06-16T17:58:38.886-07:00From the Mouths of Babes<p>This past weekend, my older sister, Shannon, her husband, and their four kids flew down to San Diego for a short visit before taking off on a family vacation cruise from Long Beach. Since they live in Seattle, I hardly ever get to see them, so I drove down to SD to get in some quality time with the nieces and nephews.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_pYmOXNI/AAAAAAAAAQc/HTljrwJn57M/s1600-h/disneycruise2434.jpg"><img title="disneycruise243" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="266" alt="disneycruise243" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_pm8ghMI/AAAAAAAAAQg/kP9QjxaEZZE/disneycruise243_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" border="0" /></a></p> <p>Seeing as I don’t have any kids of my own (that I know of - there was that crazy Spring Break in Miami a few years back......), it always amazes me how quickly they seem to grow up. I mean, I don't want to sound like one of those old fuddy duddys that waxes nostalgic about it "seeming like only yesterday that you were born." But seriously, it <b><i>was</i></b> just yesterday that these kids were born. Three out of four of them were born when <em><strong>I</strong></em> was technically of marrying age, so the fact that <em><strong>they</strong></em> are now fast approaching legal dating age absolutely floors me! </p> <p>I am also constantly enlightened by the conversations I have with these kids.</p> <p>For example, meet one of my nieces, Elyse (11 years). </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_qY4N5kI/AAAAAAAAAQk/yKXGCaAjsSA/s1600-h/3053.jpg"><img title="305" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="305" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_qksyu8I/AAAAAAAAAQo/A9ydcm-IIQA/305_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" border="0" /></a></p> <p>On the car ride home from the airport, she started telling me about this boy from church named Dane, whom she has a HUGE crush on. Dane is an older man – 12 years old – and he and Elyse are in the same Sunday School class together. However, it seems that Dane has absolutely no idea that Elyse even exists – as anything other than a buddy, of course. This is quite frustrating for little Elyse, as she would love it if Dane were her boyfriend. <br /> <br />'Scuse me? I'm sorry, but since when were my 11-year-old niece (whom I still mentally picture as a toddler) and I on the same playing field? Exactly when did she develop the ability to have romantical feelings, I ask you? So. Weird.</p> <p>However, it's nice to know that boys can manage to frustrate and confuse you at almost any age, and that I am not alone in my plight.</p> <p>And then there are my nephews, Justin (13 years) and Adam (also 11 years – he and Elyse are twins). </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_rZELa5I/AAAAAAAAAQs/YKByMpRFLzI/s1600-h/310_Edited%5B3%5D.jpg"><img title="310_Edited" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="340" alt="310_Edited" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_rxv9evI/AAAAAAAAAQw/ufRKKMEh9Dw/310_Edited_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" border="0" /></a></p> <p>Saturday morning, I came downstairs to get myself some breakfast, only to find Justin doing the same thing. I greeted him, and then compulsorily asked, "So, how was your sleep?" He replied, "It was okay, except that I was woken up in the middle of the night by a clap of thunder." This puzzled me a little bit, as I had not been aware of any inclement weather overnight. Justin could sense my confusion, and went on to explain that what he had meant by that statement was that Adam had been farting in his sleep.</p> <p>Ew.</p> <p>But I had to laugh. When Adam came downstairs a few minutes later, I questioned him about the accusation, thinking that he would vehemently deny that any such thing ever occurred. But alas, he confessed to the entire gaseous incident. And what's more - he was proud of it.</p> <p>It's nice to know that boys start honing these combustion skills at such a young age. I <b><i>so</i></b> have something to look forward to when I get married. </p> <p>And then we have my sister's youngest, Ashley (6 years). </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_sb9uTTI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/mgiX65Hznf0/s1600-h/disneycruise0253.jpg"><img title="disneycruise025" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="337" alt="disneycruise025" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_sp13xeI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/Bws4BjrkHCw/disneycruise025_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" border="0" /></a></p> <p>Oh, Ashley. Let's just say that she is a little.....wily. </p> <p>Okay, she's out of control. Hell on wheels. The girl looks like an angel, but truly is the devil in disguise. </p> <p>But I love her anyway.</p> <p>So, last week, a few days before the family left on their vacation, Ashley woke up in the middle of the night, bored. What did she do to appease this boredom, you may ask? Read a book? Play with her toys? Pull out the Crayola? </p> <p>Oh, no.</p> <p>Ashley pulled out the scissors – and went to town on her shoulder-length locks (Angela Sudweeks, if you are reading this, I totally thought of you). And apparently, Ashley must have thought that she would shortly be joining the armed forces, because in a few areas, she actually cut her hair down to her scalp.</p> <p>As you can imagine, my sister was horrified. I, on the other hand, found this whole situation quite amusing, and would burst into fits of laughter every time Ashley would walk into the room. </p> <p>My sister was not amused at my amusement.</p> <p>Here are a few pictures to document this “tragedy.” Keep in mind, the pictures below were taken AFTER Ashley had gone to a hairdresser to have her hair touched up. So you can only imagine what the original hack job looked like.</p> <p>Notice the fact that the hair on the right side of her head is longer than the hair on the left side of her head. :o)</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_tWh5M-I/AAAAAAAAAQ8/Zi1xZ79hcjk/s1600-h/2963.jpg"><img title="296" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="377" alt="296" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_t46ZHJI/AAAAAAAAARA/wHbwhMNb6po/296_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" border="0" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_uJPrnAI/AAAAAAAAARE/S60jGDwdg9c/s1600-h/2973.jpg"><img title="297" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="377" alt="297" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_ukxTnVI/AAAAAAAAARI/en_ypWRa6tU/297_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" border="0" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_vB_zQrI/AAAAAAAAARM/aIJ-x4iFh1o/s1600-h/2983.jpg"><img title="298" style="border-top-width: 0px; display: block; border-left-width: 0px; float: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-right-width: 0px" height="377" alt="298" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_dF5MhEaSxso/Sjg_vTG5kOI/AAAAAAAAARQ/6ZtS2ix_rvA/298_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" border="0" /></a></p> <p>So. Freaking. Hilarious. I know, I’m such a mean aunty. </p> <p>Gotta love these kids, though.</p> Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15114881534771905409noreply@blogger.com9