Arizona...the many levels of FAIL

So other than watching high school girls' basketball, drinking ridiculous amounts and eating horrifically, I got to experience the "great" state of Arizona. Here are the lowhighlights:

• Arizona State undergrads: This is a special breed, here. It's widely known how much for Arizona State kids are, (after all, we did only get the "temptations of the flesh" speech twice when traveling for baseball--both trips down here), but until you have sat in a freshman writing class and heard the questions asked and the obnoxious tone in which it is asked...you really haven't experienced it. Also, Mill Ave. is soul crushing. Not unexpected on any count, but FAIL.
• Immigration policy enacted: The greater Phoenix area has a great light rail system, which we rode to campus for class the first Tuesday of the semester. It was packed. The train operator was angry. Students didn't care. That was the good half of the journey...but then came the ride back to the car. Like many light rail systems, they have a security guard checking tickets. Fine. Officer Banuelos came and checked my ticket. Then she checked the ticket of the gentleman across the aisle. Then she asked to see his ID. Then she asked to see his green card. I shit you not. He handed them over like it was no big deal while I'm sitting there with my jaw on the floor at the blatant racial profiling by a Mexican. Hey, Banuelos...let me see your green card. Unbelievable. I hate the state of Arizona. EPIC FAIL.
• Fender: Corporate offices for Fender musical instruments (guitars) are located in Scottsdale...which would be cool, but there is no store associated with them. So the address we found was simply a large office suite with a ridiculous amount of parking. Seriously. If I was their neighbor in the complex, I would be pissed. Mild FAIL.
• Friday/Next Friday: Apparently no one has ever heard of these movies here. Regulation FAIL, but when considering that they hate minorities here, I'm going to chalk it up to that and rebrand it a strong FAIL.

While this particular post followed the formula of most of what I write, this vacation was actually awesome. After being sick the whole time I was home, it was great to hang out with Sarah (who is due for another guest post on the DL), hit a hockey game in which America's hero, Ilya Bryzgalov was between the pipes and to just check out for a while. That being said, I still got a little bit of work done to keep things moving, so I don't have to start from scratch when I get back tomorrow. Call it a win.

Haiku of Yesterday

No glasses at work
Love for Sarah and Haiku
But poetry sucks

Word of the Day - "Semantics"

A conversation with my guest blogger:

me: semantics

Sarah: HAHAH

Sarah: i love that you and i are the only two that know what that means

me: my status or the word semantics?

Sarah: semantics

me: is it an indictment of my life that i always want to spell that word symantecs?

Sarah: HAHAH

Web Site of the Day

For all you grammar and usage snobs out there (yes, I'm talking to you, Sarah, Catherine, Paula, Monica and anyone else who reads this and hates people who can't command the English language). <--Yes, i know that is a fragment. Save it. http://funnytypos.com/

Sarah's Top 10

I was going to propose that she submit this as a guest blogger again, but I just posted it myself instead. Here are her top 10 quotes, noises or otherwise obnoxious things the DL says/does repeatedly. Brief DL commentary included for each.

10. You gone. <--also, "You can put it on the booooooooooooard, YES."

9. Wastey (especially when followed by "That is all.") <--usually in a text

8. F-ck my couch. <--or anyone else's

7. Zoo/Circus <--put a tent over it

6. Tie between brrrrrdb and there's that. <--brrrrrrdb...no contest, so there's that

5. Wear it. <--tried and true

4. Good for you. <--we appreciate what you're doing

3. Fire drill <--closely tied to zoo/circus

2. Trrrrrrble <--like my blog

1. Jaaayyss<--courtesy of Grant...gotta cite my source

Blast from the Past

Here is the text of the essay that got me into college. All you teachers among my readership, have a look. OK, really just you, Sarah...since this was written when I was in the demographic you now teach. Comments welcome from all, though. Note: this is before I met my brother.

A leaded glass angel with a baseball glove may be a knick-knack for some, but for me it represents love. Love for a game I’ve played nearly all of my life and love for my own “guardian angels”—my family. I believe that the family is the absolute base unit of society, and I am fortunate enough to be able to say that I have been blessed with a family that sets a good example for me to follow.

My father’s words become that little voice in the back of my head telling me that I can conquer the world. He has taught me the virtues of self-motivation and self-reliance. My mother has shown a type of unconditional love that I cannot imagine living without. She is always there for me, and I, in turn, always try to be there for anyone who needs me. I take pride in being able to help others, and I can attribute this quality to the example my mother has set for me. I credit my family environment with making me the person I am today. Together, my ever-supportive parents have taught me innumerable lessons and my angel serves as a constant reminder of them and the impression they have had on me. Every time I look at it, one specific experience stands out in my mind.

The most valuable lesson my family taught me was also the most difficult one for all of us. When I was eight years old, my baseball team was a disaster. Coach Dad was beside himself trying to figure out what we had to do as a team to scratch out our first win of the season, and Mom was growing tired of continually keeping scores of us losing. One Friday night, toward the end of the season, we had our opportunity to snag that elusive win. However, the coach and the scorekeeper had just had a meeting with my third grade teacher in which they were told that I was showing a trend of frequently becoming a “distraction” in class.

Consequently, I was benched for the game. As the late innings approached, I sat there, watching “ball four” and “E6” in an increasingly close game. I, along with my teammates and everyone in the stands, waited for coach dad to put me in, but my name stayed on the bottom of that line-up card—alienated from those of my teammates. The questions, “Why?” and, “What did you do?” came from my friends on the team and hurt more and more each time they were asked. My team lost the game, but that was trivial when put in the context that I wasn’t there for them. I had let the entire team down because of my individual actions.

My parents have succeeded in teaching me many lessons, but this one was, by far, the most effective. By taking away the very thing I loved the most, baseball, they taught me who I am. In watching my dad try to coach a game without a shortstop, I learned how to improvise and adjust to a difficult situation.

In seeing what others thought of his decision not to put me in the game and my dad’s lack of response, I learned how to be determined and stick to a decision, irrespective of outside influence. In watching my team struggle, but never give up, I learned perseverance. Finally, and most importantly, looking back on the situation, I learned that my parents did this out of love—tough love, and, I honestly believe that I am a better person for it.

GUEST BLOGGER: Things that are Underrated: A Female Perspective

GUEST BLOGGER: Sarah Grieve

"I jotted down a few things that are underrated to women--there are, of course, many, many others, and once I started, I thought of a bunch more, but these seemed fitting with the overall tone and subject matter of The DL from DL (bt dub this is evidence that I am a nerd in love with words who is worried about audience awareness and shifts in tone). So, here you go..."

Toilet Seat Covers:

Not that you are really going to use one because, really, it’s only a thin layer of paper separating you from the filth of the toilet seat, but it is nice to have the option. Without a seat cover, you are left to a) manufacture your own from pieces of toilet paper or b) hover. Of course, most of us ladies begin to master the art of hovering as soon as we’re tall enough to execute the maneuver, but depending on the condition of the facilities (and our own condition—especially when frequenting the restroom at a neighborhood drinking establishment) the hover becomes a little bit more dicey, which leads me to my second underrated item…

Purse Hooks/Shelves:

These little beauties are in most women’s bathroom stalls and even available under the lip of some bars, but when they are MIA, things become much more difficult. Imagine trying to balance, probably in heels, with a clutch (a small bag with no strap/handle) [Editor's note: this is an outstanding use of a parenthetical explanation, since "clutch" means something different to DL readers.] in your hand while reaching for some t.p. Not pretty. But, there is no way in hell that bag is going to touch the ground. No effing way—I’m not sure how many germs/bacteria are on a bathroom floor, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want a single one of them to touch the bag that I will then carry under my arm for the rest of the night.

The other place a purse hook comes in handy is at a bar when the object of the night is to do a little of what DL often refers to as “recruiting” and what I’ll call “talent scouting.” Yes, the right purse is a fabulous and important accessory, but the ability to gesture to, mingle with, and even touch possible prospects free of baggage is integral to a woman’s ability to discern what type of talent is in the room. Take notice, bag hooks—overlooked and underrated.

Extra Hair Tie:

In your car, your gym bag, your desk...the extra hair tie to put your hair up for a post-work workout, for the drive home, or for a hot/stressful afternoon at work is a must. Plus, the moment you discover that you do indeed possess said hair tie is full of bliss and relief. You don’t know how valuable that hair tie is until you don’t have one handy.

Deep in the Liver of Texas

When I got to San Antonio, what do you know...there were two girls there waiting to get me drunk.  Once the three of us came to the consensus that driving back to Whit's place in New Braunfels only to turn around and head back to San Antonio was stupid, we decided the next best option was to drink there, so it was straight to the Riverwalk for a little taste of Texas.  I opted for a chopped brisket sandwich and chose to close it out with a couple Shiner Bocks and a Lone Star.  From there, we still had some time to kill before I had to be back at the hotel, so we wandered for a bit and landed at Pat O'Brien's, a New Orleans style bar right off the River.  What do you get when you put the three of us in a New Orleans bar?  Three hurricanes, of course!  How else was I going to deal with a wedding rehearsal?

Whit and Katie picked me up after the rehearsal dinner, and we headed back to New Braunfels where I got my first look at what would become the party house for the weekend.  We changed and began the trek toward Austin.

Say what you will about Texas being...well...Texas and being full of Texans ridiculous people, but I defy you to find a better bar scene than Sixth Street in Austin.  I can only imagine what a debacle that place would be when school is in session.  Going to have to figure it out and get back down there to visit when that happens.  Additionally, prices of adult beverages in Texas are much more palatable than those here in SoCal.  Draw your own conclusions on how this thing went.  I don't remember too many details of it.  I just remember posing for some pics with Katie that I'm sure will end up on facebook and two-stepping with Whit in a bar.

What do you do after a night of drinking?  Let's go to the phones, Johnny!  First up was my brother, on whom Katie put the full court press to try to get him to come down to Texas...the next day.  Clearly this was not going to happen, but she was convinced that she could change his mind.  It was a valiant effort, but it was ultimately unsuccessful.  Then came the best drunk dial ever.  Short.  Sweet.  Straight to voicemail...Grant.  I was in the back seat and held my phone up between the seats so everyone could say hi, which is exactly what Katie did.  Whit, however, took a little different route.  Grant had to piece this one together for me a couple days later, but what he heard on the other end of the line was Whit saying, "Mississippi...I don't know you, but I would like to get to," which, of course, elicited a "Proooooooooooooove iiiiiiiiiiiiiiit" from me in the back seat.  Then I hung up.  Amazing.

The capper for the night, though, was something my roommate will appreciate--Whataburger.  For most of y'all (yes, that is a y'all) who read this, Whataburger is not a late night drunk food option since you, like me, are located in the Pacific time zone.  This is better than Del Taco.  This is the Texas version of Tommy's.  It's not drenched in chili, so it's a different animal, but it is definitely that quality of drunk food.  Open 24 and very drunk-friendly.  (Of course!  It's in Texas!)

Saturday morning/early afternoon saw the brief warmup float down the Comal River referenced in the previous entry.  The party house is walking distance from the river, and with a 15 minute walk, we got in at the beginning.  My first float was pretty solid....got through the chute with my hat and glasses intact and without losing my beer.  Not bad for a river rookie.  Once we got to the river exit by Whit's house, it was time for me to bail and get ready for the wedding.

As it turned out, the best way for me to get to the wedding on time and keep all party house guests happy was to take Whit's car, which turned out to be key to life.  (See Julie references in previous blog entry.)  However, it also caused me not to get back to the party house until after 5 a.m., meaning everyone was asleep, and I had to call Whit multiple times to be let into the house.  Oh well.

What do you do later in the morning after you've just gotten back at 5?  Of course, you get up a few hours later and get ready for another day of drunken debauchery.  This day, though, the river to be floated was the Guadalupe.  This would be the source of the various gashes on my feet and legs (I wiped out hardcore on the first rapid) along with the atomic sunburn that I apparently couldn't feel because I'd had too many Lone Star Lights.  This is also, however, where the group really expanded.  I have a slew of new facebook friends (big shout outs to Becky, Megan, Tim, Tom, Jenn, etc.).  Once you share beer, river junk food, rocks and rapids with a group of people, seeking them out on facebook doesn't seem nearly as weird.

Those who were staying around headed back to Whit's house for some burgers grilled expertly by the brawl tandem efforts of Whit and me.  Sided up with some H-E-B macaroni and cheese and some potato salad along with an outdoor setting, they made a great dinner for along with our post-river drinking.  Not too long after that, we passed out.  Weird.

Aaaaaaaanyway, the next morning saw a Whataburger breakfast run and my introduction to their breakfast taquitos.  Now, I am very disappointed that we don't have this fine establishment on the west coast.  It's a tortilla with egg, cheese and sausage wrapped tightly into, shockingly, a taquito.  There are no words to describe how great this was on that particular morning.  Nonetheless, the traveling contingent left, and it was down to Whit and me.

Since I'd checked into my flight the night before, all that was left was to pack my stuff up and get ready to go.  Since we had time, Whit took me for "real" Texas barbecue.  (Apparently what I'd had before was fake...who knew?)  Whatever the difference was, it was amazing.  Rudy's was what you would expect out of a BBQ place in Texas with license plates and neon lights all over the walls and where you order your meat by the pound and they hand you some white bread.  The rest is up to you.  There is a salad bar looking thing with pickles and peppers.  I crushed a half pound of brisket, five slices of bread and a lot of pickles.

I closed out the weekend by replacing the string on Whit's guitar (that had broken earlier when I was trying to tune it for her).  After that, it was time to head to teh airport, where I cleared security in about 15 minutes (take notes, LAX), checked my e-mail on the free airport WiFi (take notes, LAX) and boarded my flight back to reality.

The checklist I received from Sarah (who, no doubt, cringed at the very reference of pickles in this post) will be addressed in a subsequent post.  It's legit.  Check back soon.