IF IT'S TOO LOUD YOU'RE TOO OLD

Last night we attended the Def Leppard concert out at the Usana Amphitheater in WVC. I had one of the best times ever not so much because of why we were there but who we were there with. Our good friends, Tristan and Allison, attended with us and reminded me of what it felt like to have fun again. The concert started off slightly tense because the traffic from 2700 West all the way out to the show was so bad it took us probably 45 minutes to drive 3 or 4 miles. Needless to say we missed Cheap Trick who opened the show. After arriving the next order of business was to secure some chow so Allie and I did the deed and stood in line for several days. Poison was the next band up and we missed about half of them (yes, Ben, they played "Unskinny Bop!") but really, who cares? The openers were not why we were there. Usana has a big reserved seat section in the front and a massive grass area in the rear which is where we were. We parked ourselves behind a group of women who turned out to be almost as entertaining as the band. Two of them, who shall remain nameless mainly because we never found out what they were, dressed as 80s era teenyboppers complete with leg warmers, ripped t-shirts and truly horrific makeup. They had written pithy messages on their behinds with puff paint; something about rock and roll and kissing said behind. One of them was celebrating her 37th birthday so it was no surprise when the party favors came out (namely cinnamon shnapps and something else I never figured out. Quite a loosening of inhibitions followed with elegant and romantic displays of freaking and body shots. One of their companions, aka Miz Bumpandgrind, featured us with an uncoordinated and slightly disturbing series of pelvic gyrations that made me laugh so hard I nearly wet my pants. We had a fun time and props to Tristan who came with us even though he was unfamiliar with the band and what they sang other than 3 or 4 classics that now even end up on Muzak stations around the world.

Usana is notorious for having one of the worst parking areas to get out of. Last time we were there it took us an hour to just get out. So we high-tailed it back to the car when the concert ended and thought we were making great time. This time it only took us a half an hour. As we sat idling in the 7th level of parking lot hell, Tristan began questioning everyone that walked passed: "DID YOU GUYS ROCK?" Each inquiry was punctuated with the traditional rock on finger salute and what we found out was that most people were happy to tell us that YES THEY DID! It got quite raucous in the car and people must have thought we'd been drinking (not a drop.) Our popularity in the parking lot rose considerably and we were invited to 2 different after parties and flashed once. With all of the yelling and laughing and honking, we must have been quite a sight to others...a bunch of 40 year olds in a Suburban asking everyone if they rocked or not. (Sorry, Allie's only 33.) It was awesome to see people respond positively to the hilariousness that is Tristan and get caught up in the fun we were having. All of this energy along with a brief stop at a 7-11 also caused enough distraction to get us slightly turned around on the way home and instead of heading back to the freeway we ended up at the Bingham Copper Mine. Oops. East, Blair go east! This morning I feel strung out, my throat is killing me from all of the screaming and laughing and I suspect there may be footage of us somewhere on Youtube. It was so much fun and I sooooo needed to be reminded what fun is. Thanks guys--I love you.

Grey's Anatomy?

I have been seriously slacking in the blogging dept. Everyone, in some combination or another, has been sick (including myself ) so blogging has taken a backseat on the priority list. What is with all of the viral crap that's going around? I think we picked up one of those "superbugs" everyone talks about. Now here's a puzzler...what kind of name should one give a superbug? It's certainly super at making phlegm. And sore throats. How about "Astro Phlegm" and his trusty sidekicks "The Booger Brigade?" Or possibly, "The Fabulous Fever Five" featuring "Cough-Up-A-Lung-Boy?" I mean, really, if we have to endure these superbugs we might as well try to have a sense of humor about the whole mess. Normally, our catch-all reason for mysterious illnesses is "it must be a tapeworm." I don't think it's a tapeworm, Toto. Did you know that they actually used to sell tapeworms as a form of weight loss? I would rather go for a slight case of dysentery myself, but that's another blog for another day.

Speaking of tapeworms, I was watching a show on Discovery Health about being eaten alive. Actually, it was about people that had travelled to other parts of the world and for whatever reason picked up some sort of parasite. Now, talk about ewwwwwwwwwwww! Makes me want to never set foot outside my door. These parasites ranged from our pal, the tapeworm to parasitic fish, Giardia, worms under the skin, Bott fly larvae and others equally as entertaining. The show was akin to watching a horrible car wreck; you didn't want to see it but couldn't look away. The most valuable thing I learned was for mainly men. Boys, if you ever go swimming in the Amazon make sure you don't pee in it. A certain type of parasitic fish is attracted to it and swims up the urethra where it checks in to it's fabulous golf and day-spa accommodations and never wants to leave. Ugh!

Sibling Rivalry

I am firmly convinced that there is no other sound in this world that parents fear more than that of 200 mph vomit hitting the carpet at 4am. Such was the case last night (or this morning for you sticklers) with our baby girl Rowan. It doesn't matter what time of night it is or if you are sound asleep or dozing; the sound levitates you out of bed quicker than Crisco on a Slip n Slide. Rowan, like the sweet, well-mannered child she is even waited until she'd gotten out of bed, padded into Mom and Dad's room and climbed up on the blanket chest at the foot of our bed. Then in an Oscar worthy performance, opened her mouth and in a brilliant technicolor yawn baptized the new comforter on the bed.
Now, where to find the silver lining here? I guess I should be thankful that she didn't leave a trail down the hall or throw up on her sister. She didn't even cry or whimper. Thus, our evening of solitude and rest had come to an end as several more similar incidents followed.
We went to my parent's house for Christmas a few weeks ago and on the way home (about 20 min. in to the trip) Karch expressed himself into an empty Taco Bell bag in the car. We had to pull off the highway to the abandoned "Dingus McGees" restaurant (I wonder who approves local business names and actually issues them a liquor license when they have clearly demonstrated questionable judgement at naming their establishment) and let him finish outside where he was immediately surrounded by the indigenous wildlife that came to see what all of the fuss was about. He should have received an award for barfing on a squirrel from about 2 meters. We decided that the used Taco Bell bag would be happier if we left it with the squirrel as there were no trash-type receptacles visible so we left it there. After we pulled back onto the highway we saw it sitting alone, soggy and being investigated by possible Sasquatch offspring. We pointed our nose toward Reno and didn't look back or ask questions.