Don't Be Hatin'

You guys wish you were me so hard and you don't even know it. Wanna know why? Because if you were me, you'd be married to Gary Gray - the greatest man-chef OF ALL TIME.

These are lofty claims, I know, but I am one hundred percent prepared to back it up.

We lucked into getting a free smoker right around Christmas, and since then, many of you have had the pleasure of partaking in some smoked ham, brisket, or - if you were especially lucky - baby back ribs with Gary's homemade BBQ sauce. The legend of Gary's smoking skills has spread far and wide, reaching the farthest corners of Colorado Springs and even as far as Manitou Springs, if you can believe it.*

To say I was proud would be an understatement. I felt the full extent of my good fortune and considered myself one of the luckiest people on earth to have been blessed with such a legendary life partner.

Last night, all that changed.

I no longer consider myself "one of the luckiest." I am now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, THE luckiest girl person sentient creature in the world universe HISTORY OF EVER.

You may well be wondering what on earth could have happened to cause such a change. I'm here to tell you and anyone else who's willing to listen: I have tasted a chili that is like no other chili in this world, and it has changed my life forever. I no longer need oxygen to live, as my lungs are now perpetually filled with the memory of that chili. Right now, for instance, tiny microscopic elk are galloping through my veins, delivering their spicy aroma to each of my cells so that I can look better, think faster, and achieve a higher level of understanding than those surrounding me. My eye color has changed to a perfect shade of serrano green. Flawless high fives are no longer beyond my reach. I never have to shave my legs again, because I no longer grow hair anywhere other than the top of my head - and that hair now comes out looking like spun gold, making paying for highlights a thing of the past.

Ribs, you say? I care not for ribs. From this day forward, there shall only be chili.

All for chili, and chili for all.


*Manitou is ten minutes away. Believe it.

Hell's Not Coming With Me

You guys know Sarah, right? My proofreader/chauffer/favorite girl ever? You might oughta give her a pat on the back the next time you see her, 'cause she just did you all a big favor by stopping me from making the internet a much angrier place.

Instead of doing that, I'm going to show you a video she found that will make your day a little bit happier. (The real magic begins right around the 0:13 mark.)



Happy Friday! Here's hoping none of you chokes on a jellybean.

Time-Waster Thursday!

Here's a bunch of stuff I found (at home; not at work. NEVER AT WORK) to keep you all from doing work.

First off, I don't know where this tiny-dogs-and-tiny-goats trend came from, but I LIKE IT.





Now for the token adorable/surprisingly jaded for such a young kid video:



This one's for the music lovers. JUST KIDDING! It's for the shirtless frat boy lovers. (You have to click the Watch on YouTube link as this video apparently can't be embedded.)



You all know how much I love Rage Against the Machine and huge dorks who embarrass themselves all over the internet (AHEM, chick in the red shirt)...which brings me to our next video!



I like this one for obvious reasons.



Real men steal food from a pack of hungry lions.



And last but not least, this is mildly hilarious.



Congratulations! Your time has just been WASTED.

All these videos were found on thedailywhat.

Somebody Buy Me These.

NOW!

“Potter Pillows” by deviantARTist Kim Gadbois.

[thedailywhat.]

Epic Fail.

So, you guys remember how I was all excited about getting a new dog?

WELL FORGET IT. 'CAUSE I CAN'T HANDLE A NEW DOG. At least not the one we had in mind.

We met Kiya Sunday afternoon, and she was SUCH a sweetheart. We brought Brutus to meet her in a neutral space, and he seemed to like her. She didn't really seem to care about him, but we figured she had been in the car for several hours and was just happy to be smelling some new smells. There would be plenty of time for them to get acquainted later on.

We brought her home and waited expectantly to become a big happy family. But as the hours wore on, we began to realize that might never happen.

When Kiya was alone with us, she looked like this:

When she was with us and Brutus was there, she looked like this:

But when left alone with Brutus, she looked more like this:

It appeared that she neither liked nor wanted anything to do with Brutus, which she made evident by pinning him down in the backyard and ripping a sizeable chunk of fur off his face the moment we left them alone together.

Needless to say, there was disappointment all around. I guess there was just too much of an age difference. Brutus just wanted to play, and Kiya just wanted to be left the #$*% alone. I certainly don't blame her; I'm sure I would have done the same thing if I had some kid barking at and pushing me all day long.

And so it went that almost exactly 24 hours later, Kiya left us and went to a better place.

Good gravy, she didn't die! She just went to stay with a friend of the family we'd gotten her from. I'm positive they'll have no trouble at all finding her a good home, because she is seriously the most affectionate dog I've ever been around. But just like any respectable old lady, if you give her crap, she won't think twice before beating you about the head with her walking cane.

Conflict Resolution

This is what it looks like when Gary and I argue.




And this is how we make up. I don't think I have to tell you which one of us is which.

Dirty D, I Presume?

Due to an oversight, Drugs somehow got a blog post before Daniel Davis.

As restitution, here's a shameless plug for his band.

Everyone should head over to Facebook and check out The Contingency Clause! They have a new single called Comfort and it is probably going to be your new favorite song.

Also here's a picture of Gary kissing him.

A Love Letter

Drugs,

Where would I be without you? Probably in bed - but not comfortable. When my bum shoulder started acting up again, I should have come to you first, but I was trying to be tough. Who was I kidding, Drugs? I should have known. But rest assured, after a visit to the chiropractor from which I'm not sure my collarbone will ever recover, I knew what I needed. I needed you. And I needed lots of you.

Now, thanks to your glorious pain killing powers, I'm once again able to complete the menial administrative tasks demanded of me by my job without fear of being brought to tears in front of (and subsequently mocked by) my coworkers.

You're the only one for me, Drugs. I'll never doubt you again.

Love,

Emily

New Favorite Game

Theresa has decided to get a dog, so last night Sarah and I spent a couple of glorious hours talking to her on speakerphone while we all sifted through pictures of adoptable dogs online. We were looking for something that was docile enough to live in an apartment, but also scary-looking enough to ward off any would-be attackers.

This dog does not fit that description, but he is the light of my life. His name is Hampton and he is a 15 pound Corgi mix.

The website for the Humane Society of Richardson, Texas included a detailed description of Hampton's behavior, likes and dislikes.

Here are a few examples of the sort of things listed in the report:

- Hampton is housebroken.
- Hampton knows his name.
- Hampton does not dig.

Then, inconspicuously tucked away in a corner, there was this one:

- Hampton steals things.

Trying to pull the wool over our eyes, weren't ya, Richardson Humane Society! WELL IT DIDN'T WORK.

But it DID inspire us to make up a game where we pretend we're reading a personal ad for a grown man named Hampton. Let's say for argument's sake that he looks like Jerry O'Connell.

- Hampton is allowed on the furniture.
- Hampton does not get sick in cars.
- Hampton likes to have his belly rubbed.
- Hampton jumps on people.
- Hampton does not lick you excessively.

Raise Your Hand If...

...you got asked out in the grocery store this weekend.

You guys can't see it, but Sarah's raising her hand. (Actually, I'm holding it up for her as she tries desperately to find a hole to crawl into so she can hide her face, which is now a deep crimson.)

It all went down at the seafood counter at King Soopers. I was buying Alaskan king crab because I like to eat like I'm rich. When Gary lets me. Which is only on Valentine's Day. I could tell the young man standing next to me was staring intently at my sister, but I didn't think much of it as that kind of thing tends to happen a lot when you spend most of your time with someone who's really, really, ridiculously good looking.

Eventually I saw him move closer to her and I could tell they were talking, but I couldn't make out much of what they were saying. Luckily Sarah filled me in once we were safely in the car. He had told her he liked her hat and asked if it kept her warm; she said not really. He asked some form of come here often? and she said yes. I'm sure he said some more stuff, but she was too busy blushing to be expected to remember every outpouring of love she received on this Valentine's weekend. When he eventually got to the point and asked her if she wanted to hang out sometime, she did the kind thing and told him sorry, but she had a boyfriend. (She doesn't. But that seems to be the best way to turn someone down without unnecessary injury to his or her pride. In her defense, the guy had kinda backed her into a corner, so she really had no choice but to compulsive-lie her way out of it.)

Plus, I feel the need to point out, she doesn't know a thing about this guy...other than his preference for honey-jalapeno shrimp. Does he love Jesus? Does he practice good hygiene? Does he share her dream of one day owning two Corgis on a treadmill? WHO KNOWS?! He could be a thief, a serial killer, a Creed fan...any number of things. And furthermore, how is he to know that SHE isn't any of those things? I'm sure we could all argue all day long about how attraction is a key element in developing a relationship...but I don't feel like it should be the sole foundation. Maybe I'm just overly cautious, but I feel like you should at least know SOMETHING about a person before agreeing to go on a date with them, lest you discover too late that their bedroom is wallpapered with posters of Nicholas Cage.

So in the end, I give the guy fifty points for having the courage to approach, chat up, and request a date with a beautiful stranger...but unfortunately I have to turn around and dock him seventy-five for failing to consider that since this all happened at the beginning of the store, they would undoubtedly run into each other and be forced to awkward it up for the remainder of the shopping trip.

Everything Is Ready For Fighting

If this doesn't make you smile, you might not have a soul.

BY JOVE, I'VE GOT IT!

Ever since I heard Katy Perry's "Firework", something like deja vu has been tugging at the back of my mind.

Today, it finally came together. 

Please listen to the first 30 seconds or so of each of the following songs.

First, "Firework" by Katy Perry. You're gonna have to muscle through the lyrics, but I swear I have a point.

And now, "Never Say Never" by Brandy - released about 13 years earlier.

RIGHT?! RIGHT?! Right. 

You can't unhear that.

Things My Brother Taught Me

The rumors are true: Greggo My Eggo has finally reached the ripe old age of 29. In honor of this momentous occasion, I've decided to do something a little bit different exactly the same and prepare a list of the ten most important lessons I've learned from him.

1. How to Be a Smartass and Get Away With It...Most of the Time - I had the good fortune of being several years younger than Greg, meaning I was able to closely observe his snarky remarks and the effect they had on my parents...and consequently, his ass. I saw many a wooden spoon broken over his backside, but you need not fear that he was beaten spanked with reasonable force in vain. I soaked up his lessons like a sponge, and as a result, made it through my childhood with less than five spankings. THAT'S RIGHT. And I have Greg's big fat mouth to thank for it.

2. Watch Out for Line Drives - All four of us started playing baseball/softball the same year. Greg's team had the first game of the season. He went out to left field, glove in hand, embarrassingly boxy hat atop his head, threw down a little old fashioned chatter...and then BAM. He was dead.

(Pause for dramatic effect.)

Okay he wasn't really dead. But he looked it. And within a few hours, the most magnificent baseball-shaped bruise had blossomed on the left side of his torso, complete with visible stitching marks and everything.

And he never played baseball again. THE END.

3. Milk: It Does a Brain Good - Wanna know about Greg's childhood? Then know about milk. He was the milk-drinkinest kid I've ever come across...and he grew up to get a 1460 on his SATs. Coincidence? Probably.
 
4. Reading Is Cool - Especially Harry Potter. (I feel like there may have been more to this lesson than I absorbed...)

5. The Book Is Always Better Than the Movie - A side effect of this lesson is that I've learned to watch the movie first so I never have to go through the hassle of being disappointed that they left out my favorite scene.

6. There Is Life After High School - Let me tell you something: If high school sucks, hold out for college. You might just wake up one day and discover that you have more friends than your three moderately-popular sisters combined!

7. Video Games Are Not Just For Boys - Two words: Animal. Crossing.

8. Laugh At Your Own Jokes - Really Hard - And People Will Probably Laugh With You - Or you'll just seem like a jolly, fun-loving guy. Or a douche. But definitely one of the three.

9. You Don't Have to Do Homework If You're Smarter Than Everyone - So just imagine it's your junior year, first day of Pre-Cal. You're painfully aware of how bad you suck at math. Your teacher, Mrs. Murack, is discussing the importance of homework to your overall grade. She tells the class that she's only had one student in her entire teaching career who didn't turn in a single homework assignment and still got a passing grade. Then she looks down at her attendance sheet, laughs, and says, "Well, it seems his sister is in this very room!" You see the look on her face that says she's expecting similar results from you. But as time goes on and your grades prove to be less-than-mediocre, she first suspects that you must have been adopted and then eventually forgets your name altogether. Just one reason why...

10. I Will Never Be Known as "The Smart One" - No matter how hard I try. If only #9 had been an isolated incident, maybe my self esteem wouldn't be in the sad state it is today. But no; every teacher who'd had Greg before me expected in vain that I might also be a supergenius. I learned early enough that I was an idiot in comparison. In kindergarten when it was discovered I was at a 5th grade reading level, my teachers fondly remembered how by the time he started school, Greg had already surpassed the 12th grade level. In the first grade, the suggestion that maybe I should skip a grade was eclipsed by the offer Greg had received a few years previously to skip two grades. Then there was Mrs. Barber in the second grade with her stories of catching Greg reading comic books inside his textbook and his somehow still managing to correctly answer questions about the reading assignment. (After that I started requesting teachers who had never had any of my siblings, and things improved.)

Gorsk - I love you and I hope your birthday is awesome.

I probably won't always hold a grudge against you for being so damn smart.

I Bust the Windows Outcha Car...

Or at the very least, the speakers.

Saturday morning, I went up to Denver with Gary so he could pick up his new work truck. After a particularly amazing breakfast at Snooze, I drove our truck home by myself.

Blame the pineapple upside-down pancake-induced euphoria; blame the sunshine and the aviator sunglasses; you can even blame Jay-Z (but if he asks, I never said that); all I know is I can't be held responsible for what happened next. I was just innocently trying to make my way back home when I heard the ominous snap-crackle-popping noise coming from somewhere down around my left foot. I did everything I could think of to try to make it stop (meaning I kicked the speaker five or six times as hard as I could without veering into another vehicle), but it appeared that my efforts were in vain; the damage had already been done.

For a while I tried to convince myself that maybe Gary wouldn't notice. He doesn't even have the radio on half the time...

I don't know if you've ever blown a speaker, but man is it ever hard to ignore. I tried switching over to some lite rock to see if something a little less intense would lessen the popping...it didn't. I even tried turning on some worship music to see if I could bless the popping away...and then suddenly I was struck by lightning as punishment for testing God.*

I saw a glimmer of hope as I turned off the highway - I had regained full sound! But a few seconds later as I straightened out, the glass was shattered.** It seemed that the speaker refused to work properly unless I was making a hard left. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to convince Gary to drive only in circles without arousing suspicion, so I decided I'd better tell him what I'd done. This wouldn't be such a big deal if he hadn't warned me numerous times during the course of our relationship that if I didn't stop listening to music so loud...this very thing might happen.

I braced him for the bad news in the usual way - by asking him to remember how much he loves me. This manner of leading in has about a ninety percent success rate. (As for the other ten percent of the time...let's just say his memory doesn't always serve him as well as I would hope.) Luckily the odds were with me on this one, and being the wonderfully gracious husband that he is, he took the news well. Apparently GMC covers having a wife who thinks she's a thug under warranty.

*KIDDING. Kidding kidding kidding kidding kidding.
**Figuratively, thank God. If I managed to destroy a speaker and a window in the same trip, I might as well not go home at all. 

Oh, Gingers. You Are the Best.

And also sometimes the worst.

Oh Yes, She Will Be Mine.

Who, you ask?

THIS GIRL!!!

Her name is Kiya (rhymes with Maya; also known as KI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YAH*), she's a seven year-old Alaskan Husky, and as you can see she is a BIT of a hottie mcdottie. Her owner used to live in the Springs but has recently moved to Arizona where the heat is a little too much for her, so we're taking her in purely out of the goodness of our hearts. JUST KIDDING! It has nothing to do with the goodness of our hearts. We just think she's awesome and would love to have another dog. We're hoping she can teach Brutus how to be a grown-up.

She's coming up in a couple of weeks and, pending a rigorous screening process (which involves putting her and Brutus in the backyard together for a few hours and making sure they don't kill each other), she might just become the newest member of the Gray family!

Twenty points** to the reader who comes up with the most creative nickname. GO!

*Name that rap song!
**Points may be redeemed at any time for one free rap performance from Emily Gray. Additional performances may be purchased with solid gold bricks and/or Pappadeaux gift cards.

Jamaican Me Crazy

I think my dog is driving me insane.

You might think it's because he knocked our trash can over this morning so he could drag the remains of the whole chicken we cleaned last night all over my house while I screamed at and chased him*, but you'd be wrong...although now that I think about it, that might be a contributing factor.

It's actually not anything he's doing on purpose - unless he purposely has eerily human-like facial expressions that make me want to speak to him as if he were human. This is where the crazy comes in. I've gotten so comfortable talking to the dog when no one else is around that I've found myself being comfortable talking when not even he is around -- meaning I'm just talking to myself.

The first instance (that I'm aware of) happened this morning. After a particularly successful rendezvous with my bathroom scale, I cursed my own laziness for not getting up and working out this morning as I could plainly see the benefits of having done it on Monday. But the cursing was not merely internal. I believe the precise words were, "Damn. I should have gotten up this morning; I could have been even farther ahead." The moment the words were out of my mouth, I froze. "What am I doing? DAMNIT! WHY AM I STILL DOING IT?!"

So naturally once I was finished getting ready, I promptly checked myself into the nearest mental hospital. Luckily they have free Wi-Fi.

*I swear he's not bad all the time. I think all this below-zero nonsense is affecting his judgment.

Against All Odds

My mom, dad, and brother are all enjoying a nice day at home together because the roads are so icy and yet, here I am. In Colorado. At work.

Also, I have an obscene amount of dog hair on my pants today as a result of the epic struggle to get my dog to come inside this morning. (I know he's a husky and he loves the snow...but even so, leaving him outside in -10° weather doesn't seem like something that would win me Pet Owner of the Year...and lately I've been thinking that statue might be just what I need to round out my mantle.*) I let him outside to do his business, and then when I called for him to come back inside, he looked at me, squared his shoulders, and firmly sat down in the middle of the yard. I could actually see our electricity bill rising in little squiggly waves as I stood there with the door open, stubbornly hoping he'd change his mind so I wouldn't be forced to go out there and get him. Of course that didn't happen, so I marched out into the yard to show him who was boss. And when I say "show him who was boss," I really mean, "curse under my breath...and then gradually not so much under my breath while chasing him around in circles because I'm running late and he thinks we're playing."

To top everything off, I just put deodorant on (at 9:20am...after having been at work for nearly an hour and a half) because this morning when I realized I hadn't put it on yet, I was already wearing upwards of five layers on my upper body and it was clear there was no turning back. (And then once I got to work...I just forgot.)

And yet...for some reason, I still find myself in a reasonably good mood. What can I say? My hair looks really good today.


*You guys, I lied. Not only am I not sure that award exists; I don't even have a mantle.