Come fly with me...

One of the really great things about working for an airline is the benefits. Especially my airline. Not only do I get to fly free (provided that there's an unoccupied, un-purchased seat available)-and get all the usual health benefits one would expect from a good employer-but my "committed partner" (John, and no, "committed" doesn't mean institutionalized) and my parents get to fly for free as well.

A sign in front of this tree says that it was featured in "Some Like It Hot"...which means it's actually OLDER than Jack Lemmon!

The most famous hotel on Coronado Island named...the Coronado Hotel! What are the chances, eh?
So, for Mother's Day I decided to make use of my folks' fly-ability and take my mom and dad for a day trip to San Diego (which is made so much more fun and easy when you fly for an hour instead of driving for eight). Given my work schedule it wound up being on Monday instead of Sunday but hey, nobody's perfect.

Just think how big that rock had to be to make John that much taller than me.

Everyone had to wake up way early so we could catch the earliest flight (6:45am) so we were all tired and a little worn down...but we made the most of our day. Coronado Island, Balboa Park, Old Town, and several meals in between made for a full, and memorable, day. Then we sent mom and pop back on the latest flight, and John and I stayed around for another few days of relaxing fun.

Yeah, life's rough.

Mom & pop in front of the lovely Coronado Island ocean view.

Mom doing her best busty pose in front of the Balboa Park botanical garden thingy.

Addiction, thy name is BMB...

Well, after going way overboard with the vacation photos and details on my last few posts I thought I'd take a short break. Which never turns out to be so short.

While I could always blame my absence on traveling or work, the simple truth is that I was caught up in a new addiction. In fact, I think I may have found the most addictive substance known to man. Crack? Child's play. Meth? Doesn't hold a torch. Cigarettes? Feh. (Ok, so I've never tried meth or crack, but I'm sure they don't compare) No, the most addictive substance is not a substance at all, really. It's a website. And its name is Big Muscle Bears(.com).

I'll admit that I've been a long-time viewer of the site. I always found it fun to look at all the hot beefcake on there, to see what kind of unrealistic expectations would be driving me the next time I went to the gym. And it's always even more fun to run across someone you actually know on there.

But I finally decided the other day (or, rather, we did...John's got one too now) that it'd be fun to finally add a profile and see what it'd be like.......It's like being hypnotized...by flesh...and muscle...and naughty bits.

Here's a quick summary of me on the site:

"Oh, look at that one!"

*click*

"Wow...of course I 'like'..."

*click*

"Oooh, I got a message from this one...."

*type, type, type*

"I wonder if I've got any new 'likes'?"

*refresh*

"Ok, I've gotta get going to work...just one more page..."

*click*

"Oh, wait, let me send a message back to this one..."

*type, type, type*

And so on.

So, I've started to find time for things other than lecherous internet surfing...thus I'll be posting more regularly on my poor little neglected blog. (Hey, it's only been 15 days...heh...) But it's always the first post back that's the hardest.

P.S. If you're curious, the proflie # is 73636

DC Trippin': Day 4

GRRRR(L)! I'm fierce!

The last day we were there was a little more relaxed of a day. We woke up kinda late, and found our way to the Natural History Museum. I found that to be the most fascinating of the museums there by far. It was really fun to see some of the displays showing evolution in action, like the little poodle-like thing that would eventually become a modern day horse.

That's right, one day this little bugger will grow up to give us that OTHER meaning to the phrase "bareback riding".

Doesn't it look like you could photoshop a Virgin Mary into the middle of him and start a frenzy?

The best part is that all of this proof-of-evolution stuff is just a mile or two away from the residence of a certain president who would love to see all of it abolished in favor of a Jesus exhibit, I'm sure.

For some reason this little guy reminded me of Hammy from Over the Hedge. "I like the cookie!"

After that it was the gym again, then an early evening in to pack and ready ourselves for the trip home the next day.

DC Trippin': Day 3

The next day we got up from our night out, and tried to plan our day (which usually involves me prodding John for suggestions on what to do so that we don't just do what I have in mind, making me seem like the overbearing vacation nazi that I can sometimes be). Being the OCD gym-goers that we like to think of ourselves as, we both wanted to get a little work out time in. Given that it had been *gasp* 5 days since I'd last tossed around the iron, I was all about this idea. Some people gotta try out shopping in a new town, some gotta try out new coffee shops, we like trying out new gyms.

We then got a phone call from Jimbo, who told us that his running buddy had the info on the good place to be on a Monday night in DC, and asked if we could meet him out around 8:30-ish. A little later, John G called and asked us about meeting him and Dan out for dinner around 7-ish. We told him we'd meet him back at the house to pick up his truck around 6-ish so that we could let him into the house, as we had his keys.

Not really sure what this building was, but it has the number "1" spelled out in tulips on the lawn.

We looked at the time, and it was 1 or so. Which gave us just enough time to see the front of the white house, a really nicely lanscaped building next to it, and make our way to the gym. After the gym it was back to the house, then on to dinner at a really good Thai place whose name I can't recall. We met there with John G, Dan, Jimbo and his sweet and witty running buddy. Dinner was alotta fun, and the food was really good.

From there it was off to RJ's for (brace yourself) show tunes night. There's nothing more fun than seeing a large group of men simultaneously belting out "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" as loud as they can muster, especially after they've all had more than a few intoxicants. It was sure as hell alot busier, and more fun, than the bars we'd visited the night previous though. Oddly enough we ran into a few people we knew from Tucson there too.

We also found out that big city boys are all shy and chaste:
Random guy approaching John: "Hi, that's my boyfriend over there...we think you're hot...we want you to come home with us so you and he can both double team me.".

Apparently, that's the new version of "Hi, my name is Tom. What's your name?". Though I suppose there's certainly something to be said for efficiency.

DC Trippin...Day 2

Saturday night, while walking amongst the monuments, we had talked to Jimbo on the phone about having brunch on Sunday. He wanted to meet us at a place called Annie‘s on 17th street which is in sort of the DC version of the gay ghetto. We were to meet him at 11:00 and, oddly enough, Dan + John were planning to meet some friends there at 10:30. So we hitched a ride with them there. Which was good, as we hadn't quite mastered the Metro yet.

Annie‘s was cute, the type of place where the gays trot out Saturday night‘s trick on Sunday morning for all their friends to see. Afterward, Jimbo was nice enough to show us around the area. We stopped in front of a Freemasons-related building that had these neat sphynxes (or sphynges, as Jimbo informed us, is the proper plural) for a photo op or two. He then led us to Dupont Circle, where he had to part ways with us to get back to the work we‘d been helping him avoid.

The Freemason's temple-thingy had very nice landscaping and purdy trees.

The woofy Jimbo was on his tippy toes so he'd look taller than my woofy husbear.

Us gettin all snuggly in front of the sphynx (maybe that's why it had its eyes closed).

From there we saw the Air + Space Museum, which was neat. Then we hit the Mall (the kind dedicated to our republic, not the kind with a Bananna Republic) and saw the gigantic phallic symbol that is the Washington Memorial. Then we saw: The World War 2 Memorial, The Vietnam Memorial, and the Licoln Memorial. Then we headed back to John G‘s place for a little disco nap, in anticipation of a night out.

John being distracted by the hot military guy that was getting searched at the security entrance to the Air & Space. Seriously.

Isn't that, like, all patriotic and stuff?

Me and Mr. Lincoln...we got a thing...goin' on...Well, he was supposed to be gay(-ish), right?

Rested and ready, we headed out for an evening of clubbin‘. We had missed out on Saturday night, but figured that in a city of 5 million there would be more going on than in Tucson on a Sunday.

Not so much.

The Green Lantern, supposedly fun and bear-laden on Fridays + Saturdays, was "tragic kareoke and martini night" on Sundays. The Eagle? Emptier than Karl Rove‘s well of ethical standards. But at least I managed to buy a cool hoodie sweatshirt from there...'cause you know how much we need that kind of clothing down here in Arizona this time of year.

DC Trippin': Day 1

In the spirit of catching up on blogging, I'm writing about the trip John and I took to DC a little more than a week ago. I'll preface this by saying that, yes, I will be writing more than one probably should about one's vacations. I, however, am an avid travel whore. I fully enjoy any trip I can take, and like to remember it in detail. So I'll brake this up into days of the trip...so that they're a little more consumption (not to mention pic-posting) friendly.

DAY 1...

Our 1st day in DC was an exercise in adaptability. We flew into BWI, which got us to Baltimore nearly 3 hours earlier than the flight to Dulles would have. However, transport from the airport was anything but direct. Normally, there is a MARC train from BWl to Union Station...but we got there on a saturday, and said train doesn't run on weekends. Luckily, there is an express bus from BWl to the green line of the Metro. From the Greenbelt station one could then navigate the Metro to Union Station.

That was the game plan, anyway. And we all know how the saying goes about the best laid plans of our rodent counterparts and us. The 1st wrinkle came when I waited at the carousel for my little black luggage that I shouldn't have bothered checking. (which, had it not been for my contact lens solution bottle being about 9oz over the limit for liquid carry-ons, I wouldn't have). After the last piece of luggage dropped, I got that sinking feeling of dread... mine was still not among the last few riding on the carousel. I walked over to baggage claim and, oddly enough, my bag was sitting there waiting for me. Not sure why or how it had mysteriously migrated to the land of the lost + unclaimed luggage, but I was just happy to see it and didn't ask.

So we headed off to catch the bus, whose stop we couldn't find. We were told where to find the bus by a handsome and friendly limo driver, and we broke into a luggage-encumbered run upon realizing that the bus was about to depart. Panting, we boarded and attempted to give our money to the bus driver, whose machine only took exact change. We spent the rest of the ride pestering our fellow passengers for change for a $20. Finally we got the change we needed and didn't have to get kicked off the bus.

After fumbling with the ticket machine, we hopped the green line and transferred to the red line and made our way to union station. From there we were picked up by the incredibly nice John G., who took us to his house where we would be staying. It was a very lovely house, even if it was in what John himself described as a “transitional“ neighborhood. “Transitional“, he informed me beforehand, translates roughly into: place-where-cab-drivers-may-refuse-to-go.

Later that evening we were joined by John‘s boyfriend Dan at a cute little street cafe type place called Mr. Henry‘s. Dan grew up in DC, and so has an encyclopedic knowledge of the city, its history, and its famous architectural residents. Later, as the 4 of us strolled through the FDR and Jackson memorials, he imparted some of that wisdom.

John G. looking like he's contemplating giving FDR's wheelchair a big foot-shove.

The Jackson Memorial with blurry ghost-like people in front of it. (The ghosts of liberty and ethical rule, perhaps?)

(My) John and I were thinking about going out that night (read: I wanted to hit the bars, given that it was Saturday night in DC-hello Eagle!-, he was beige on the issue). The problem was, in order to secure the 5 days off required for this trip, I had just finished working 2 doubles. Which meant, due to getting up early that morning to make the flight, I had gotten somewhere in the range of 9 hours of sleep out of the last 72. John, wisely, convinced me to stay home despite my whining. All I had to do was SEE a pillow and I went all narcoleptyic.

Bad blogger! BAD!

I realize that I've been totally falling down on the job with my blogging duties. I do at least have a decent excuse, given that I've been on two trips out of town in as many weeks. The funny thing I'm finding about this whole having a journal thing is that when I have interesting stuff to write about, I don't have the time to do it. And when I have the time to write...I usually don't have anything interesting to write about.

So I dusted off the old palm pilot, and put it to use doing something other than tracking my workouts, so that I can do a little bit of writing while I'm away from the convenience of a computer. So I'll be blogging about things that happened a week or so ago, but it's better than not at all, right? After all, one of the big reasons to do this is so that I can look back and remember a little more vividly the stuff I've done too.