This is a tender spot. The bruise started to form immediately. At least she had the courtesy to say “aww” before she started laughing. It’s actually worse than the photo might indicate, but I’m not in the mood to take another photo.

So this was my Valentine’s gift from Shalon. If this is what kind of “romantic” gift one gets for having The Third Kind of love, then I’m not so sure I want it anymore. Luckily it wasn’t my only gift. Bryan gave me awesome stuff last night, and I bought myself a Gap PRODUCT Redâ„¢ Hamme(red) shirt.

Thanks to all my well-wishers. Especially my brother, who reminded me that next year I’ll be “really old.” A heap of MySpace messages, many phone calls (apologies to Amanda who doesn’t like my new voice mail messgage) including Savannah singing to me and Lorilee promising to take me to Indian food when she’s back (so holding you to that, lady), cupcakes from Brandy which were super tasty and filled with sarcasm, and an offer of a “homemade gift” from Shalon (but I don’t want her stool sample).

My friends are awesome.

They also all want/expect me to go out and get hammered. I guess that is my M.O. during this time of year (and every time of year), but I did work tonight. Closed the store and everything. Got to have drinks afterwards with a few pals, but it was very chill.

To our waitress at the bar: You suck. We asked you to apply the cash toward our bill then split the rest. Not pocket $16.75 as your tip on a $62.79 bill after you lagged bringing out drinks and water (twice!), didn’t bring the menu that Deb asked for which you offered us even though the kitchen was closed, and bitched at us for not wanting crap that you said was possibly-mint floating in our water. You deserved every penny of your $1.75 tip. And please note that it was only $1.75 because you didn’t give back the quarters to begin with. Please slam your shin into every chair you walk past. kthxbye.

When all else fails, nuke!

Still need to add headers and titles back to the asides, but that’s quick and I’ll get to it this week. Please let me know if anything else is broken!

Despite being sick, I have had a good last week. Snowfest happened at Kirkwood, and Kristen and Jenine put together a killer event. About 270 REI employees showed up over two days, and while conditions weren’t ideal, the good times and shenannigans were top notch.

I’m sorry about the mediocre image stitch, but I’m not feeling great and it’s the best I can do.

The reality is this: I would rather be buried under a three-ton mountain of raisins than deal with this kind of inventory again. Retarded finless goldfish indeed. Rather than rant about the process and the issues, I’ll stick with the easy stuff. My cronies and I (hi Kristen and Allison) kicked out the jams. (Yup, said it again. This makes five times, I think.) I’m now a firm believer that the three of us together, given the right amount of time, can accomplish anything while still getting in a powder day at Kirkwood in the middle. Despite working a 22 hour shift to get it all done, we’re solid with inventory for the year. However in July, you can expect to find the three of us at Big Sur (at least mentally) while others helm this particular ship.

In the days following inventory I learned that I’m kind of an asshole when I’m really drunk. This is in addition to learning the following when I bring Shalon, Rachel, Susan, and Corrine to an open bar: I can carry 4 drinks through a packed bar crowd and be recognized later for my skills, if I start my night with sake and then drink tequila and rum I will lose part of the night, I may not eat the food you order me, I will persevere in trying to pay the cab driver even after Shalon has done so and yelled at me, I won’t let my friends walk down Mission alone at 12:30am no matter how wasted I am, I can’t text message on Shalon’s phone and use real words at the same time, there will apparently be a need to recreate moments from my bachlorette party, and most of all, no matter how much Shalon wants my jacket, she won’t think to steal it while I’m more drunk than I’ve been in years. Whew. That’s a lot of learning for one night.

I also learned that Bryan is a saint. Best. Husband. Ever.

In any case, I should be back more regularly, including a possible back-end update on the site itself. A new design has been kicking around in the back of my head. Stay tuned for photos of Snowfest, exciting work and personal life announcements (no, really), and more detail about the 3 minutes of my life not wasted on MySpace. Nyah.

This was a year full of so much drama, so many changes, and after making it through November (and March and May and August) and all the way to the wedding without actually having my head explode and pop off, I think it’s perfectly legit to celebrate the mere fact that 2006 is over. So w00t fucking w00t for closing the book on 2006 and beginning anew on 2007.

What happened? I had a crazy three-day birthday celebration, crunched the front of my car, went on a 4300 mile road trip through the western states, got engaged, interviewed for and received a promotion, demoed bikes on the wettest day EVER, had interviewing/hiring drama at work, got a few crazy sunburns, walked into a fence, dunked my camera in the ocean, did some camping, got bocce ball fever, opened a new store, built a cardboard office, saw an orthodontist, got good at handling HR issues, broke a coffee grinder, learned the real meaning of fatigue, bought a wedding dress, worked on the fastest completed IDP ever, became a psychic swami, joined MySpace, had my bachlorette party, saw Shalon throw up, won the Anderson Award, went to Vegas and didn’t elope, was a personal/professional reference once and almost twice, learned about The Third Kind, got married, lost a friend, worked a holiday retail season with a very short-staffed management team, bought a TV, and made it all the way to yesterday.

And then yesterday I: cooked beef short ribs, drank a lot, had friends over for dinner and shit talking, learned that I’m Shalon’s first call if she goes to jail, wanted to make ice cream but was unprepared, took 181 pictures with Sarah’s camera, was thankful for every day with Bryan in 2006, got Shalon to find her inner pimp again, laughed a lot with Allison, and went to bed around 4am.

It’s no wonder I’m fucking tired.

I like going on Friday nights since it’s usually uncrowded. However, often the freaks are at the gym on nights like this. No sweaty old men hitting on Amanda last night, but there were two women who were severely overdressed for working out. Two older Asian women walked in together around 9:30pm. My favorite one was wearing jeans, a blouse (probably some sort of polyester), and kind of dressy brown leather shoes with a slight heel. Her friend was wearing a beanie, a down vest, an ill-fitting pink sleeveless number, and black slacks. I watched them do about 10 minutes on elliptical trainers, a lot of walking around looking at places to do ab workouts, and then they conquered the rowing machines for a few minutes. It was fascinating.

I realize that I am, based on my job and entire life, quite overqualified to at least dress for the gym. At least. I wore a new Icebreaker top, ancient Addidas track pants, Vasque Blur shoes with new Berry Superfeet, and my badly-in-need-of-new-batteries Polar F6. God, I’m a nerd.

I wish I could have taken a photo next to them. Or working out with them. Regardless, it was quite entertaining. I’d go to the gym every day if I knew they were going to be there.