Take Your Daughter to Work Day

About 7 years ago I "dated" my friend Gina's brother Mike for about 2 years. When we started dating he was recently divorced and had his 2 year old daughter 50% of the time. His daughter and I were thick as thieves. When we broke up...I missed her more than my relationship. I still see her once in a while because I am still friends with Mike's sister.

Cut to last Friday. My cell phone rings. It's Mike. He was calling to invite me to play volleyball with the family for Gina's birthday AND to ask me if his daughter could come to work with me this Friday for Take Your Daughter to Work Day. When no sound was coming from my end of the phone, he started into this long explanation of how she loves radio and wants to be in radio like me. Two emotions filled my body. One. Anger! WTF? Why does he want ME to bring his daughter to work like she's my kid? Two. Ouch! I feel a pang of longing in my heart. I guess I didn't realize how much I missed that little girl. Humpf.

I am out of town Thursday-Sunday....otherwise I would have done it (I think). I told Mike that we could schedule a time to have her come in and I could give her a tour and talk to her about college and how to get into radio. I would do this for her....not Mike.

Hola Miss America

I went out with Danny (from the 4 hour and 15 minute phone conversation post) on Friday. It was a great time. I had set my Ghetto TiVo (a.k.a my VCR) to record Deal or No Deal before I left. When I got home, I watched DOND and then right after that was The Miss America contest. I really like the Evening Gown and the Final Question part of the competition so I was fast forwarding thru the other crap. I could really really do without the little vinyettes of the contestants 3 inches from the camera all doe-eyed saying, "Hello, I am Suzy-Q from Georgia, and I love to workout, play with my dog and practice putting on make-up." Anyway. I got to the musical entertainment part of the show.... ahem....it was a SPANISH speaking group. SPANISH! ALL IN SPANISH at the Miss America competition. Is this odd to anyone else? I laughed my ass off then said outloud, "Luuuuucy, yous gots some 'splainin' to do!" (Ricky Ricardo) Haha!

Nicole

When Em and I were roommates, we had the dumbest roommate ever. EVER. Our roomie Jenn was moving in with her boyfriend and we needed a 3rd person to live with us. Since we lived close to the DU campus...we thought we would advertise for a DU grad student to be our roomie. We got an applicant that we both liked. She had just returned from the Peace Corp and was a Poli Sci Grad Student. OK. Here we go. We asked her over for some drinks to "interview" her. Nicole showed up at our house. Pretty. Outgoing. Rich a la mom and dad. SOLD. Nicole moved in and instantly Em and I realized....shit. She's NOT smart. Pretty. NOT smart. This girl was sooo rich that every little thing in her life up until now was done by "staff"...she had NO street or common smarts at all.

Here are a couple examples.

Em and I were sitting on the couch and we hear Nicole crashing around in the bathroom. She walks out with a lightbulb in her hand. She looked at us and said that she wasn't sure how to put a new lightbulb in. OK OK...the joke...how many blondes does it take to screw in a lightbulb comes to mind. I can tell you the punchline....ONE blonde....ME!

Nicole had lived with us for weeks when this happened. Nicole was in the shower and she came out and said, "Guys, I think there is a leak in the shower." Concerned, Emily and I go into the bathroom and ask her why she thinks there is a leak. She explains that the floor in the bathroom always gets so wet when she takes a shower. Em looks and notices that she has the shower curtain on the OUTSIDE of the tub. She pushes the shower curtain in....in total frustration...and tells her that the curtain goes INSIDE the tub. I laughed outloud...in a YOU DUMB ASS... kind of tone....and walked out of the bathroom. In the coming days...the water damage from our GED hopeful's shower habits caused the ceiling to fall into the basement. Sweet.

This is my favorite Nicole story. Em and I were sitting in the living room. Nicole walks out and says, "Did you know that the price of stamps went up one cent?" We both reply "Yes" in unison without taking our eyes off of the TV. Nicole then replies...in total frustration "I just spend $40 on stamps and they were totally wasted. I threw them in the trash." Em and I nod at her and give her understanding looks. Then once Nicole walks out of the room. I say to Em, "are you thinking what I am thinking?" Without another word, we both jumped up and fished her $40 of "wasted" stamps out of the trash and split them between us.... laughing maniacally the whole time.

Emily is the sweetest girl I have ever met...and never wanted to kick Nicole out. I did. Emily left for an 8-week Archeological dig in Peru. I kicked Nicole out within 48 hours of her departure. B-bye. See ya nut case! After Nicole moved out she came back into the house and took the lids off of all of the condiments in the fridge and all of my hair products. Since I knew that she was a nut case...I just threw all of that stuff out out of fear that she had messed with my stuff. Yes, I was out some serious cash...but couldn't take a chance that my hair would fall out. I changed the locks and slept really well that night.

7 years ago today....

.... I was sitting at my desk just slammed with work. I was having the kind of day that people write horror movies about. Bad. And I was crank-y! I had my office door shut, my phone on "Do Not Disturb", blaring a CD, ignoring my cell phone. I was too busy and needed to focus. When my office was door closed (at my old station) it didn't look like I was there. I noticed that my office phone kept ringing and ringing...and the number of voicemails were racking up faster than usual.

Finally I picked up one of the calls. I growled through my teeth, "This is Emily."

Without saying hello, I hear, "Tell me that your sister doesn't go to Columbine." It was my friend Matt who worked at the local News Talk radio station.

"No she goes to Alameda, why?"

"Oh God, you haven't heard Em. Right now there is a horrible shoot out at Columbine going on. Something like 6 or 7 are confirmed dead and the gunmen are still in there shooting," Matt said.

I froze. Chills. "Oh God Matt, I have 3 of my girls (girls that I was coaching) and my high school softball coach in there (he was the Athletic Director). I gotta go. Call you later. Call me with updates." I hung up.

I walk out of my office into the hall to find people crying and huddled around the TV. I am in shock. I go back to my office and call all 3 of my girls at home and leave messages to call me. The first girl to call me back is Crystal. She is bawling and shaking as she tells me what she saw. She was one of the kids that was helped out of the building by the teacher who was killed. She saw him get shot. We talked for about 30 minutes. I was bawling too. I walk back out into the hallway and tell some friends that I tracked down one of my girls. One of our Program Directors overheard me and said that CBS (our parent company) was calling to see if they could get a phone interview with one of the kids inside Columbine when it happened. I agreed to call Crystal's parents and see if they would allow her to do this. Crystal wanted to talk. She wanted the world to know what was going on. She was on a CBS tv feed all over the nation. It was hard to hear her voice on the tv. I spent the next 10 hours securing grief counselors to come into the studios the next day and take phone calls from the public. It was hard to move. It was hard to still work. My ears were ringing non-stop and I felt numb. I wanted to go home so bad. I get word that one of my high school buddy's little sister was killed. She was the one who told the killers that God would forgive them...seconds before they shot her. It was horrible....horrible.

All of my girls and my high school coach got out alive...but not ok...mentally not ok.

I finally got home around midnight from work. My boyfriend at the time, Alex, was waiting there for me. He is from Kansas City and didn't have a real concept on how close to home this was for me. He asked me where Columbine was located. I said, "Remember when we went to my Grandparents for Thanksgiving? Columbine is 3 blocks away from their house." He was floored. He didn't realize it was so close.

The next day I got up super early to get into the station to coordinate the grief counselors. I was sitting at a light in my car. One of the radio stations had taken that song "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan and added clips of the news coverage from the Columbine tragedy inbetween the words to the song. I started bawling. The kind of cry where your chin quivers and you can't help but wail outloud. I slammed my hand on the steering wheel. I looked at the guy in the car next to me. He was crying just as hard as I was. We tried to give each other a look of unspoken encouragement. I will never forget the look on his face.

I can't believe it's been 7 years.

I'm in a mood

I have been working my ass of this week and all last week. Non-stop. From the second I arrive...until the second I jump in my car to head to softball practice. Coaching that little 7 year old girls softball team started for me 2 weeks ago and getting used to the schedule has been tough. Anyway....work work work. Galore! I was busting my ass all day because I had plans to meet my friend Ali for dinner and drinks. I even skipped my yoga class. Well she canceled...for a good reason...but she canceled. So now I am sitting at my desk CRANKING out work and blaring my stereo. I am the only one here....it's almost 6 pm. I am listening to Dave Matthews Live at Red Rocks CD set. I was at that show (well at least one night)...so once in a while I wonder if that scream was me. I am a total dork I know. Ha. I am just in the mood for some LOUD music....LOUD Dave! I have listened to one of my favorite songs "Say Goodbye" about 4 times. Sometimes I get in the mood to hear the same song over and over again. This song is about 2 friends who have other lives and lovers...but for one night they will be lovers...and tomorrow...they say goodbye....and go back to being friends. Anyway.... over and over again. Just in a mood.

Dave Matthews is coming back in town in Sept. I got 4 tickets through my friend at the concert company again. I got sweeeeet seats again. I am in section 127. OK. Basically my seats are one level up from the floor...just to the right of the stage....7 rows up. I will be able to see the sweat on Dave's face. YAY! My friend hooks me up because I don't ask for favors often, I always send him a thank you card with a gift and I send him random stuff we get at the station for no reason. It's all about taking care of the hand that feeds you Dave tickets. Ha.

A Peep's Purpose

Four of my staff members just came back to the office from an event...they were laughing and being louder than usual. They asked me if I wanted to see a science experiment....and then laughed even harder. OK I'm game. They said that if you put one of those disgusting marshmallow Peeps from Easter in the microwave for about 25 seconds...it will expand and get all big...but keep it's shape. We all laughed and paraded into the kitchen. The mother-instinct in me said, "If it explodes, you have to clean it up." Sure enough...it expanded and looked like a huge Peep for about 6 seconds and then turned into a huge blob. Still...we cracked up. Ahhh... free is my favorite kind of entertainment.

At least now I have a purpose for those yucky Peeps if I ever get them for Easter again. Because I sure as hell won't eat one...not even on a bet. Blech.

This Blog's for you!

Here is a secret shout-out to my dear friend whom I love very much. I know that this weekend is tough for you every year. Just know, that you are in my thoughts and prayers...always...but especially this weekend. *HUGS*

Easter

This year for Easter, we were at my aunt's house...my mom's sis. Judy is such a great cook and her home is always so warm and inviting. The only thing that bugs me...and it shouldn't bug me but it does...is that there are always strangers at every holiday at her house. Strangers. That is a not-so-nice way to put it...but I don't know these people....no one but my aunt or my uncle know these people (and most of the time my uncle doesn't know 'em either.) Now, don't get me wrong.....I bring my friends to holidays. So does my sis....but everyone KNOWS our friends. Judy just invites any random person...not necessarily a friend, who she hears doesn't have plans for the holidays. I swear...if she was in King Soopers and overheard someone saying they didn't have plans for a holiday....that person would be sitting next to me at the table. This holiday was no different. There were 2 random teenagers who insisted on making out in front of everyone and this guy named Bruce there. I come to find out later that one of the 2 teenagers is a wayyy distant cousin of mine. Oh. Hum. And the guy Bruce goes to their church. He looks to be about 50-ish and he rides a motorcycle....BUT he dresses like a 50 year old guy. I hope that makes sense...but he just screams "mid-life crisis" and told me 3 times that he rode his motorcycle here.

"I rode my motorcycle here because it's so nice out."

"I better put my leather jacket on before I leave, even though it's so warm out...for safety on my motorcycle."

"I hope my motorcycle didn't block the driveway for you."

At one point I rolled my eyes....and my dad totally caught me and laughed. I got a sick feeling that Bruce had the hots for me. Anyway.

Even with the random people at Easter....it was lovely to see my family. I sat with my Grandpa for hours and listened to him tell story after story. I have heard most of the stories before...but I love hearing him tell them. He tells them the same way time after time. Like he's reading his life story from a book inside of his head. Cherished moments for sure.

Natalie and Danny didn't show and didn't call. I could tell that it hurt my Mom's feelings. I think that she thinks that people judge her when her kids are inconsiderate. Maybe they do. I don't. Natalie is an adult and needs to be more respectful. RSVP. RSVP. It means Respondez S'il Vous Plait. Simply translated RESPOND. Respond YES. Respond NO. Respond MAYBE. Just FREAKING Respond.

4 hours and 15 minutes

Briana has been telling me forEVER that she wanted to set me up with her friend Danny. I really really don't like my friends to set me up. So, I never really pushed her to give him my number because so far everytime a friend has set me up.... I came home from the date and called that friend and said, "Hi, have you MET me before? What did you think I would see in that guy?"

Here's one example. My friend set me up with this guy named Grant. She said he has a great smile, is super cool and was a Firefighter. Sounds great huh? I was still living with Emily at the Gaylord house when this happened. I heard the doorbell. I heard Maggie bark. I heard Emily talk to him (sounded like the adults on Charlie Brown cartoons). She came downstairs and her eyes looked like a deer in the headlights. All she could say was, "I'm sorry" and she kinda giggled and put her hand on my shoulder. Crap...right? We had a good laugh. OK. I go upstairs and this guy is maybe 5'3", really really really skinny and white...and dressed from head to toe in cowboy gear. Yup, a white 10-gallon hat, Wranglers (so tight I don't think he could put his hands in his pockets) and shit-kickers. Gulp. Sooooo not my type. Anyway, we went to dinner and he brought me home. I wanted to kick my friends ass. Haahah!

So NOW, when people tell me they want to set me up with some friend of theirs...my new question is...."If you were single, would YOU date him?" Amazingly, the answers are almost always....no. Folks, just because someone is single, around my age and of the opposite sex....doesn't mean we will hit it off.

Cut back to Briana wanting to set me up with Danny. I asked her why she doesn't date him (since she is single too). She said that she dated his friend and he's not really her type...but really believes that I would like him. Good enough for me. I tell her late last week to give him my home phone number. He called on Monday. We talked for.... (insert drum roll here).... 4 hours and 15 minutes. I haven't done that since high school. Hahaha! We'll see what happens there...but thumbs up to Briana... she may have gotten the set-up blind date right.

Put Up or SHUT Up

I was just with a friend of mine who bitches non-stop about her job. During work hours she is incapable of talking about anything else. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. If it's not one thing...it's another. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. It makes me crazy. And the stories and the things she is bitching about are not THAT bad. Come on....you can't be a victim everyday.

Today, I lost it. She was bitching and I said, "you know, I have friends at nearly every other radio group....and it is 25 times worse. I am so sick of hearing people bitch and moan. If it sucks so bad.... find another job." She got all hurt. Listen. If you HATE your job....find another one. I have no respect for people who bitch about anything that they can change....and don't...just bitch about it. If you hate your job...find a new one. If your husband is a jerk.... either get counseling or leave him...don't bitch all of the time. If you are sick of being fat....work out and take that donut out of your mouth...or shut the hell up. Sick of being single...don't do anything to meet people? I don't feel bad for you at all. It's all about action.

Don't get me wrong. I am here for my friends....I want to hear about your joys and sorrows. I will listen if you have a bad day at work. I will listen if you and your spouse get in a fight. I will try and comfort you if you are feeling bad about yourself that day...and just need a kind word. I will DO that. HOWEVER, if all you can do is be a negative energy source day after day after day....then find someone else to bitch to. Because this BITCH is done. It's time to put up or shut up.

Baby Ryder

My friends just had their first baby (a boy) on March 23rd. Today I got an email from the dad on their son's delivery. It is such a well written and inspiring story...that I thought I would share. I hope it is as wonderful to others as it was to me....maybe you have to know Ryder's parents to really understand.

Just a quick snapshot of the parents. They are the kind of couple that people stop to look at when they walk in the room. They are both gorgeous and have this amazing energy around them. Ryder's mom is petite with a perfect body, long wavy blonde hair, a warm heart, very smart, great sense of humor and a loud & contagious laugh. Ryder's dad is around 6'5", blonde hair that looks like he belongs on a surf board than a court room, well dressed, funny, smart-ass and very handsome. I have never heard either say a bad word about anyone and they always have a good time. Anyway....this story made me smile and tear up. Enjoy.

For the record, just so you all know, here's how it went down: Richele drank castor oil for lunch on March 23rd after having tried every other method, known and unknown, to induce labor. I went to the club after work to play some racquetball and got home around 8. We put a movie in and at exactly 10:30 starting timing the contractions that were about 4 minutes apart and didn't seem to be stopping. I just figured that's what happens when you drink four ounces of castor oil, and didn't really think too much of it until 11:30 when the contractions were now approximately two minutes apart and definitely weren't stopping. I grabbed our bags, put them in the car, looked around for the keys for the next ten minutes, walked Richele out our icy back steps and we took off for the hospital. (Rich, I only blew one red light and didn't get pulled over I'm sorry to say) We got to the hospital around 11:45 and I filled out some paperwork while Richele was doubled-over in pain. They finally brought a wheelchair and pushed her down the hall to labor/delivery room #3. They told us the anesthesiologist would be in shortly, so I put on some Foo Fighters, got Richele some "ice chips" (apparently what hospitals call ice cubes), and proceeded to endure some fingernails-digging-into-my-arms pain of my own for the next half hour. Around 12:30, the nurse came back in and told us the anesthesiologist had been called to an emergency c-section for twins, and would be unavailable for an hour. The nurse hooked Richele up with a fentanyl IV drip that stopped some of the pain, but definitely not all. At this point, Richele was about 5 cm dilated and in more pain than any human should ever be in. She finally got the epidural around 1:30 or 2, and at that moment I wished the guy who invented the epidural was around so I could shake his hand. Richele went to "sleep" for a little while after that, and things seemed to be progressing nicely. When the sun started coming up, Richele was dilated to around 6 cm and the doctors thought that ryder might be sideways or something, so they put some probes directly into his head and gave Richele some pitocin to help create stronger contractions. I think it was around this time that Richele and I counted no less than six tubes/probes/needles/catheters coming out of her body, not to mention the oxygen mask and periodic blood draws during the entire ordeal. Of course,> we figured this was either perfectly normal...or they just knew I was an attorney. Around 9:30, they said we could either wait to see if she would continue dilating or could go in for surgery. Since Ryder's and Richele's heart rates and blood pressure were dropping during and after every contraction, we decided the best thing to do was to get him out as quickly as possible and not risk the health of either of them. At about 10:00, they prepped her for surgery and put me in a one-piece suit (that was far too short in the torso and gave me a wicked camel-toe). At 10:10 we were in the operating room, I was right next to Richele's head, with my hair net and face mask on, and the surgeon called out the time of the incision. At 10:12, I head them say, "there's his head," and I peeked around the surgical tent and saw Ryder's head - the most surreal, amazing, and beautiful thing I've ever seen. They pulled him out, cut the cord, wiped him off, wrapped him up, put a hat on him, and handed him to me. I laid him down on Richele's chest and the three of us just stared for the next ten minutes. Dr. Shultze and Dr. Grah are two amazing surgeons who did a fantastic job. In fact, other doctors in the hospital were coming in to see their work because apparently it was one of the better procedures ever done. There were no stitches or anything showing - just a tiny line with some antiseptic ointment on it. Pretty amazing really. Then they wheeled us into the recovery room and Ryder started eating right away. At this point, I probably should have started calling everyone, but c'mon... Richele had to wait until around 5:00 before she got into her own room (oddly, it was a very busy day and all the doctors kept asking what was going on in Denver 9 months ago to bring in so many babies all of a sudden). Mr. and Mama O. got in Thursday night with Nene and Jade and we all went back to the hospital first thing Friday morning. Normally, patients are required to stay at least three days after surgery, but since we're talking about Richele, and not a normal patient, we all came home on Saturday afternoon and things have been great since. She's healing nicely and has been running up and down the stairs, picking up Jade (bad Richele), breastfeeding, showering, and laughing a lot. Ryder and I watched some great basketball games on Saturday and Sunday - he seems to be a big George Mason fan for some reason. I got into work around 10 today, and things seem a little different here. All the screaming and yelling and complaining and whining and bitching and crying that I deal with on a daily basis all seems like it's a bit more distant today. Priorities have changed. I actually have a smile on my face. I'm in my office and I'm smiling. This kid has already changed my life. I can't stop looking at his picture! Can't wait for all of you to meet him in person. See you soon.

Bad Dog

Last night I had a bad dream about my college softball coach. I dreamt that she kicked me off the team at the beginning of my senior year, and I was trying to get the Athletic Department to honor my scholarship through my senior year because my coach is crazy as a shit-house rat. Now that part of the dream was all made up...that didn't happen in real life (well except for the crazy as a shit-house rat...that was true.) However, in my dream during this investigation by the Athletic Department....all of the horrific stories of crappy things she did to me... were 100% true. I dreamt I was in some room with a bright light having to re-live those true things she did to me. I think I had this dream because I told my parents last night at dinner that I was going back to a college reunion at the end of April

Let me just get this right out in the open by saying my college coach HATED me. Our team mascot was the Bulldogs. My team lovingly called me BAD DOG. Anyway.

Here's one of the true stories. Flashback to 1991. My freshman year. My coach comes into practice in a really bad mood. Since it's still winter outside, we are practicing inside the Field House. Coach decides to line us all up in a single file line and one at a time rapid fire sharp ground balls at us....one right after the other....about 15 in a row. If you missed ONE...or over-threw the base, you had to go to the back of the line and do it again. Certain players really struggled with this. I didn't. I picked up everything she shot at me....and threw it to the base perfectly....which worked her up into this nasty frenzy. She told me that I got to do it again....so I went to the back of the line and waited my turn. When it was my turn again she told me to move up about 5 feet closer to her...so that the balls would be harder and faster. Fine. And this time instead of keeping them reasonably close to me...she was firing them to my wide right....then to my wide left.... over and over. I was driving for the ball, picking it up and throwing it to the base. Over and over again. Well, my horrible left knee gave out on me and I fell to the ground. I tried and tried to get up...but my knee wouldn't hold up. Coach didn't stop firing ground balls at me.... the balls were hitting me over and over again....in the face, in the back, in the leg. Everywhere. My team was standing there in amazement. Our trainer Frank was trying to get to me to help me up and to look at my knee...and she was even hitting HIM with balls. Finally he screamed at her to stop. She freaked and threw the bat and screamed for me to get the hell out of there. Gladly. I grabbed my stuff and left. I called my parents....balling hysterically. Only dogs and dolphins would able to understand the squeaky voice. LOL. They told me I could quit if I wanted to. The CSU coach still wanted me to come up there and play...full ride. I cried all night. I loved my school. I loved my teammates. I didn't want to give up. I didn't want that BITCH to win.

The next day, I went to coach's office to talk to her. She screamed at me for about 15 minutes and threw a file of about 500 player profiles on her desk, who according to her, wanted my scholarship. She screamed some more. I just sat there quiet. After she was done ranting. She asked me what I wanted. I said, "I want to go to practice." She yelled "FINE!" I said "FINE!" And I showed up at practice. And she ignored me....for weeks.

Two days later I got a huge packet in the mail from my parents. It was my scholarship offer, my application for enrollment (all filled out) and a check for moving expenses and my first few months rent in Ft. Collins. I took a thumb tack and hung it on my wall. That packet was my inspiration. I hung it up on the wall every year after that.... the day that I graduated...I took it down and threw it away. I had won.

Years later I was back in Des Moines for a college reunion. A bunch of my teammates and I were getting our nails done at a salon owned by a woman who was married to a man who was a huge financial donor to the college. Hell, our softball field was named after him. My teammates started teasing me and calling me BAD DOG. We were all laughing as they were telling stories of horrible things that coach did to me. The woman who owned the salon looked at me after about 5 stories and said, "Emily is this all true?" I said, "Yes, and this is just the beginning." She replied, "Well, I don't think Ron would donate money to a program with a coach like that." I shrugged. A month later a huge investigation into her conduct was done. She was fired shortly after. She got hers....and I got mine. I got a free education and friends for a lifetime.

I WON!

I won the NCAA March Madness Pool at work. I got $135. It would have been more...but they awarded a 2nd and 3rd place prizes. Which is cool with me. YAY! I made an appointment to get a highlight and haircut today with my winnings. Weeeee!

Ears are ringing

I just walked downstairs to the basement parking garage in my building at work. I was carrying my new (heavy) desktop tower to my car. I look over at the crowd gathered around this piece of shit car...it starts smoking....BAD. Then this girl opens the hood...the car engine is ON FIRE. I stopped...and froze....my heart hurt...and my ears started ringing.... felt like I was gonna faint. It was that same feeling you get milla-seconds before a car accident. The flames were shooting up so high out of the car's engine. This other guy was standing there with a fire extinguisher....thank God. He put out the fire...and all I could say was "is it out?" Man...that car could of exploded so easily. Deep breathes.

Strike Three...You're OUT!

My drive to work this morning was ridiculous. There are 3 major reasons why.

Strike ONE. The RTD drivers announced a strike yesterday and only 50% of the buses are running....so more commuters.

Strike TWO. There were RTD picketers everywhere...and of course... drivers have to rubber-neck to look at them.

Strike THREE. Today is Opening Day for the Rockies. So...there are a ton of people coming downtown to party...who from my guess...don't come downtown much. I am thinking this because there were a ton of people driving slow and leaning in to look at street signs. Many idiots changing lanes at the last minute...and a ton of people trying to parallel park....who haven't done that since their driving test.

Never fear...I made it to work in one piece.... just 15 minutes late.