lifestyle

Calling All Humans, I Want Your Garbage

Calling all humans, I want your garbage.

No, not your actual garbage. Not your literal, tangible, probably rank garbage. I’m talking about your figurative garbage. More specifically: your morning garbage.

(How many times do I have to say garbage before it becomes a drinking game?) 

We’ve all had bad mornings. The nuclear, should have stayed in bed, can this seriously be happening type mornings. The garbage mornings, if you will. And since we’ve all had these, I thought there should be a place to talk about them. To laugh at them. To prove they are actually a thing that happened, even if it may seem impossible.

So, I’ve started This Terrible Morning. A blog dedicated to the horrible, awful and hilarious mornings that tend to haunt us every once in a while.

This is where your garbage comes in.

I want your stories, your pictures, your sarcastic turn of phrases. All of it. It doesn’t matter if you’re not a writer or a comedian or a photographer. The only credentials you need are an honest voice, a great story, and the willingness to share it.

So if you’ve ever had one of those mornings that started with a (maybe literal) bang and ended in a (hopefully figurative) fire, please do me and the Internet the honor of sharing it! And if you’re someone who secretly enjoys reading about those fires, please do me and the people brave enough to share theirs the honor of subscribing!

You can find the blog at www.thisterriblemorning.com

You can submit your stories/pictures/etc. to thisterriblemorning@gmail.com

Give Up Your Guilty Pleasures

When I was in high school, I spent a lot of time running around like a chicken with my head cut off. I wanted to be liked and accepted and I thought the only way to achieve that was to like and accept the “right” things. Be it the clothes I should wear, the movies I should like, the music I should listen to. I had no idea who I was, so I hoped everyone else would tell me.

But even as I started to learn the game, I was still well aware I was cheating. I didn’t wear everything I was supposed to wear, and even when I did, I wore it a bit differently. I didn’t like all the movies I was supposed to like, and I listened to a lot of music that lie far outside the lines which were drawn. Everybody has those quirks though. Those little secrets we keep from the masses. We call them guilty pleasures.

Like most teenagers, I lived off of guilty pleasures. After a long day of playing the game, I’d come home, relieved I could finally relax. My family didn’t care what I wore or what I liked, they loved me regardless. And although it took me sometime, I grew to learn than anyone worth having in your life will hold the same opinion. As a result, guilty pleasures began to lose value.

A few years ago, I heard a quote from Foo Fighters’ front man Dave Grohl:

“I don’t believe in guilty pleasures. If you f*cking like something, like it. That’s what’s wrong with our generation: that residual punk rock guilt, like, “You’re not supposed to like that. That’s not f*cking cool.” Don’t f*cking think it’s not cool to like Britney Spears’ “Toxic.” It is cool to like Britney Spears’ “Toxic”! Why the f*ck not? F*ck you! That’s who I am, damn it! That whole guilty pleasure thing is full of f*cking shit.”

Sure, it featured a few more f-bombs than the average life lesson, but it sunk in all the same. When we give into the game of guilty pleasures, we essentially admit to being ashamed of a part of ourselves. In doing so, we prevent ourselves from ever truly becoming ourselves. And to quote Dave Grohl, that’s not f*cking cool.

So I say ditch the guilty pleasures. Like what you like, without shame. It’s what makes you who are. And the world needs who you are. It’s what keeps it interesting.

Jeffrey’s Big Milestone

I’m not sure what the appropriate introduction song is here…

For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow? Happy Birthday? Graduation by Vitamin C? There are just so many emotions to sort through. I can’t decide which song fits the best.

In short: my car, Jeffrey, just hit 100,000 miles and I don’t know how I feel about it.

One thing I do know however, is that you should never pass up the opportunity to celebrate things like this.

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Jeff, we’ve been together for almost ten years now. We’ve been to six different states, countless cities and hundreds of Mexican restaurants. We’ve driven on practically every terrain in various levels of elevation. We’ve been in an accident. We’ve driven happy families and kind friends and wet dogs. We’ve (accidentally) ran a stop sign (or two). We’ve had flat tires and worn shocks and a broken air conditioner. We’ve run out of gas and gotten lost and found new roads we’d never seen before. And even though you might be a little worn down. Even though you might eat CD’s now and make that weird clicking noise when we’re stopped at red lights, I know you still have a lot of life in you.

I know we still have many miles to go, many places to see and many people to meet, and so today, I wish you happy 100,000th, my friend. May your tank always be full (even though I know I usually wait until the last minute and I’m sorry) and your oil always be fresh (which, now that I think about it, I should probably check…)

Here’s looking at you, kid. Here’s to another 100,000.

Spring Break Road Trip (Day 7 & 8: Park City)

Just like a Saturday, the best part of a non-travel day on a road trip is the freedom to sleep in as long as you want. Now, I haven’t really been able to sleep passed 9:30 since I was about 18, but there’s something to be said about just laying there, with nowhere to be, and no one waiting on you, so that’s exactly what we did.

Around lunchtime, we made our way into town to find Bandits, one of Park City’s well-known barbeque restaurants. One highlight of this meal included a mixup in the kitchen resulting in us receiving double the garlic bread we ordered, a.k.a THE DREAM.

Afterwards we walked around a bit, briefly window-shopping the stores Main St. had to offer. We showed incredible self-control in Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory, not submitting to any of the sugary, elegant, chocolate dipped treats. Though this stand would prove to be only temporary, as upon arriving home, my sister, Mel and I decided we wanted needed to make cookies that included M&Ms, sprinkles, and chocolate chips.

That night we made tacos and hung out watching one of the most incredible, most unfathomably Oscar snubbed films of our generation: the Olsen twins’, Getting There.

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As a group we could quote almost the entire movie (which we did), and like any cinematic masterpiece, it made us laugh at all the same jokes, even though we’ve heard them upwards of 20 times now.

Important Tip for a Satisfying Life: See Getting There.

After another alarm free, commitment free morning of sleep, Mel, my sister and I got in the car to make the 20 minute drive to Kamas, which is home to a Chevron station with infamously good donuts. Unfortunately I cannot confirm this countywide opinion, because upon arriving at the gas station around 11:00, the entire case of donuts was empty. It was a soul crushing defeat, but somehow, we found the will to move on.

#courageous

With our stomachs still empty, we made our way back into town to find The Backdoor Deli, another well-known eatery in the Park City area. When we walked in around 12, the shop was nearly empty, so we had plenty of time to browse the 50 sandwich menu until we all found one that suited us.

Tip: Order #46!

From there we let the day continue to get better, and let the morning disappointment in Kamas fall into the I-hate-this-10-minutes category. We saw Beauty & the Beast in theaters, we went shopping at the outlets, and we went to the High West Distillery to try some of Park City’s famous whiskey. For dinner we went to the No Name Saloon, made known to us by the should-have-been-best-picture-winner Getting There, before heading back to the house to make s’mores, take a “ski shot”, and talk about anything and everything that came to mind.

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It was the perfect end to what ended up being the perfect day, and as I lay my head down that night, knowing it was the last time I’d do so outside of my own bed, I felt an overwhelming sense of calm. This road trip had been everything I’d hoped it would be, and even though it wasn’t quite over yet, I already missed it.

Spring Break Road Trip (Day 4 & 5: Bend)

Sweet, sweet, Bend. You are cold, but you are a place. People love you. People! You have people. And houses. And food. Oh Bend, I love you.

On Sunday morning Allison, my sister and I got up slow and made our way over to have brunch, which proved to be nothing short of a gift from God. We went to Jackson’s Corner, a local treasure, and I ordered “The Cristo” which is essentially a French Toast sandwich made of dreams and fairy dust, and a big ole pint of milk because: strong bones.

From there we headed to Cascade Distillery, which is located in the neighboring town of Sisters, where we proceeded to try just about everything they had in a very small amount of time, leaving us all feeling relaxed and warm and thankful for one another.

Tip: if you ever find yourself at the Cascade Distillery, tell them Kim sent you. They’ll probably say Kim, who? And then you can tell them about this blog post and Kim, the person who wrote it, which probably won’t ring any bells with them, because I don’t think I even told the guy my name. Then, after you realized I’ve completely pranked you, order the Wild Roots Raspberry Vodka with cream soda, it’s the best drink I’ve ever had in my life.

For the rest of the day, we did nothing short of living. On the way home from the distillery, as we all collectively frowned at the grey, rainy skies, we decided to flip mother nature the bird and have a great day with a tropical twist. We stopped at the store and got junk food, cranberry and pineapple juice, and Malibu rum, then spent the rest of the afternoon drinking, playing board games and laughing loud and hard.

That night, we went to Deschutes Brewery for dinner (where I’d highly recommend the pretzel and the 3-cheese pizza) and then headed back to the house to watch a movie. I think I can speak for all of us when I say that after dinner we all felt a little fat and bloated and kind of regretful, but mostly just happy and 100% willing to do it all over again.

The next morning had a little bit of an earlier start. Unlike my sister and I who were playing hookie for the remainder of the week, Allison had to work, so we headed over to Strictly Organic, a local coffee shop chain, to film a segment for the daytime talk show she produces.

Every Tuesday, they have a segment on the show where they interview customers in the coffee shop, in the hopes of getting a taste of the diverse population of Bend. They tape the segment on Mondays, and since we happened to be in town, my sister got to be one of the interviewees.

Here she is having a totally miserable time making her television debut:

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It was super fun! Much more of a casual conversation rather than a stiff on-camera interview, so if you ever happen to be in Bend and have an adorable blonde with a headset come up and ask if you want to be interviewed for Central Oregon Daily, say yes! You won’t regret it.

Once we were wrapped (yeah, I know TV terms), the three of us headed over to another local favorite: Sparrow Bakery. It was packed, which is always an encouraging sign for a first timer, and lived up to the hype. I ordered an Ocean Roll, which is arguably the best pastry I’ve ever eaten, and had a girl walk up to me just to say, “you look great today!” So even though it was only 9:45, with carbs and a compliment bubbling through my veins, I already knew it was going to be a great day.

Just before lunchtime, while Allison was hard at work preparing for the 3pm show taping, Natalee and I took the time to hike Pilot Butte. It’s nothing special, just a mile and half of breathing fresh, central Oregon air, with a 360-degree view of its beauty from the top, no big deal.

Here I am totally wishing I wasn’t looking out at this majestic part of the world:

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At 3 o’clock, we came back to watch Allison’s show (which she crushed) and then headed home around 4:30 for some solid lounging.

Tip: The Pacifier is currently on Netflix. If you haven’t seen it, see it. If you have seen it and (like us) have forgotten how incredible it is, go watch it.

For dinner, we went to a place called “The Lot” which is a collection of delectable food trucks and a tented, heated-bench, seating area. We spent about 30 minutes devouring pad thai from “Thailandia”, all hinting but not expressing how sad it was that we were leaving the next day. But rather than harp on what was to come, we enjoyed what we had now, which proved to make the sting the slightest bit duller.

My Journey (So Far) to Winning the Heisman

One of the goals I set for myself in 2017 is to run 1000 miles, and this past Sunday, I hit the 200-mile mark! Woo!

You still have 800 to go, you know.

Hey. Enough of that, negative brain. I’ve run 200 miles!

HELL YEAH SHE HAS. 

Thank you, positive brain.

This is an exciting goal for me. Not only because accomplishing it would be incredible, but because even believing I could try to accomplish it is something I could have never dreamed of a year or two ago.

Over the last few months, I have had a number of different obstacles—i.e. my body trying to convince me it’s falling apart—in regards to this goal, but while they should discourage me, they’ve done exactly the opposite. I feel motivated, I feel inspired, and most of all, I feel able. Even on the days when running sounds hard or tiring, I don’t have that lingering doubt in the back of my mind that I’ve grown so familiar with. I really believe I can do this, and hell, if there’s a better feeling than that, I haven’t found it yet.

But while this goal seems wholly attainable to me, and I know I’ll stop at nothing to achieve it, I respect its grandiose. I know I can’t get over-confident and go all tortoise/hare on the thing, and so I still go into every run with the same amount of respect and dedication.

Among my family members, I’ve started referring to this goal as “winning the Heisman.” Am I a male, college level football star? No. But the way I see it, if a kid tells his parents he wants to win the Heisman, they’ll probably smile and tell him to “go for it”, even though they know he has a loooong way to go, and for me, with running, it’s very similar. I have never been a runner before, ever. And so having a background that was practically dedicated to not running, it seems pretty far-fetched to come out with a goal like, “I want to run 1000 miles in one year.” But the truth of the matter is, every year one kid does win that Heisman trophy, and so I figure, why can this be the year I win mine?

An Ode to My Tax Refund

It’s that time of year

Not the time with Christmas cheer

No, the time we usually all dread and fear

But one silver lining

One diamond worth mining

Is the check in your mailbox you just might be finding

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It’ll say, “hi, how are you you?”

And you’ll say, “better now

It’ll say, “how you gonna spend me?”

And you’ll say, “Oh, I’ll tell you how.”

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I’m going to go shopping,

Maybe for clothes, but mostly food

I’m going to fill my damn cupboards with anything that can be chewed

I’ll pull out all the recipes I put on hold for my budget

And in regards to my healthy diet, I’ll make room to fudge-it.

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I’ll probably get a haircut WITH a shampoo

And when they ask if I want a blow dry, I’ll say, “throw that in too.”

I’ll take myself out to dinner and order dessert

I’ll tip the waiter so nicely he’ll think I’m a flirt

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I’ll probably buy myself some books and see a few movies

I’ll buy a new pair of shoes I think are pretty groovy

I’ll go out with my friends and buy them all a drink

Then I’ll get home a little tipsy and lay down and think…

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I should probably save this

And then I probably will

I could probably spend a little

But should be cautious still

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I’ll stress and I’ll mull and I’ll undoubtedly overthink

I’ll make lists and run figures and I’ll pour myself a drink

Then I’ll make some room here and make some room there

Save some, spend some, and hopefully have some to spare

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I’m not saying I’m right, I’m not saying I’m wrong

I’m not saying you should listen or sing my same song

I’m just saying we need balance and a probably a little discipline

We can be frivolous and smart and order takeout Italian

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So here’s to you refund, I can’t wait to meet you

I can’t wait to shop you and save you and eat you

We’ll have some good times, I can promise you that

First order of business: raising the thermostat.