2016: An Unbelievable Year

It didn't take long for big news to rock the world in 2016. 

On January 10th, David Bowie died.  Sadly, we lost many other legendary icons throughout the year - Prince, Merle Haggard, Glenn Frey, Frank Sinatra Jr., John Berry, Leonard Cohen, Gene Wilder, Alan Rickman, Muhammad Ali. To name just a few. 

Fortunately, February reminded us that miracles still happen as the Denver Broncos won Super Bowl 50 and The Sheriff rode off into the sunset. We've still got amazing talent on the field this season, but I think I speak for most Broncos fans when I say that we miss Peyton. 

In June, while the United Kingdom stunned the world and voted to leave the EU, Hillary Rodham Clinton (The Notorious H.R.C.) made history by winning the Democratic Party nomination for President of the United States. I'm no Gloria Steinem, but damn am I proud to be a woman and see that, in my lifetime, the glass ceiling will be broken. 

In August, Michael Phelps became the world's most decorated Olympian. I may or may not have shed a tear or two, amazed and awed at his talent - and the talent of all the athletes. Hell, I think I'm the bee's knees if I get up early and ride my bike for 30 minutes. 

In November, the Chicago Cubs won the World Series. Let me say that again - THE CHICAGO CUBS WON THE WORLD SERIES! Holy shit. I was jumping around like an idiot, crying, clapping, and shouting with joy. Completely nonplussed, my cats looked at me like I had lost my damn mind. But I didn't care - the Cubs just won the World Series after 108 years. Nothing else mattered...

...until the giant zit that was the Election came to a huge (white) head and erupted. A month later, and I still refuse to believe it happened. More than anything, I wish Republicans would stop saying that we need to give He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named a chance. By that logic, shouldn't we give AIG, Goldman Sachs, and Lehman Brothers another chance? They proved they can't run a business, they lied like assholes, and they completely hosed the American taxpayers. But hey...let's give them a chance to see what they can do this time around! Fuck that. 

And the cherry on top?  I am turning 40 in nine days. I wouldn't say I'm excited so much... more like I'm dreading it. A lot. 

I'm trying to stay positive about all the things I have accomplished and not focus on the things I haven't, but...I think I'd have better success climbing Mt. Everest with my arms tied behind my back.

And so I will raise a bottle of champagne on New Year's Eve, and salute the unbelievably magnificent bitch that was 2016. 

Jury Doodie

Last week I had the pleasure of spending an entire day at the County Justice Center to fulfill my civic duty as a potential juror. I should have known the day was doomed when I had to wait in line for 20 minutes just to get through security. Once that debacle was finally over, I waited in another line to get into the Holding Pen. It was too early in the morning, and I hadn't had enough coffee, to realize the beginning of a trend.

I found a seat, filled out my 1 page questionnaire, and tried to figure out where the coffee was. The recording the night before said there would be coffee. I didn't see any sign of a bean, powdered creamer, or stirring stick anywhere. So you require me to be here at 7:45 AM, forego an entire day of income, sit in an uncomfortably full room of strangers, without even an awful cup of Sanka to choke down? Unbelievable.

I finally had a little time to read my book and catch up on emails. Productivity. Ok, I can live with this. And then I was interrupted by the Jury Commissioner introducing some really old guy who was/wasn't/played one on TV/may have been a Judge. He droned on for 20 minutes about something really important, I'm sure. And since half of the room was now asleep, they thought it would be a good idea to turn off the lights and show us a video about Jury Duty (in case we were confused about why we were there).

Once every single person in the room had their official juror number and badge, they asked us to line up numerically. Then the Commissioner's assistant confirmed the importance of Natural Selection when he went through the list and asked about 80% of the people to move because they were in the wrong spot.

But wait, there's more. They marched all 86 of us out of the Holding Pen, down the hall, to...the elevators. Each elevator held about 10 people, and I was lucky #82. The best part is they had to rearrange us again when we all got to the 4th floor. There was genius at work here, I'm sure of it.

FINALLY in the courtroom and the Judge started talking about the Constitution, our obligations as jurors, the players, the accusations in the case, yadda, yadda, yadda. There was no Lennie Briscoe. No Jack McCoy. No Abbie Carmichael. No dramatic music. This was nothing like Law & Order. What the hell?

It was 10:15 AM. For two hours he asked everyone some general questions, noting their answers and their pleas to be excused.

At 12:15 PM, he dismissed everyone for lunch. We all went back to the cafeteria on the 1st floor and stood in line. Again.

At 1:30 PM we went back to the courtroom and the very first thing the Judge did was excuse about 20 people. Seriously?! You couldn't have done that BEFORE lunch? You didn't need to consult with the attorneys about these people - it was evident to everyone in the room that they shouldn't be selected. Either this was a plot to get more people to spend money in the cafeteria - or - the State that's raking in money is too cheap to provide coffee to the Judges, too.

Now the real fun began. And by fun, I mean torture. It was time for the attorneys to begin their lines of very specific questioning. They were focused on the 25 people in the Jury Box and, because I was potential Juror #82, I had to sit there and listen to each of these people talk about themselves and why they weren't fit to serve on this jury. It was a domestic violence case and I was absolutely amazed that there were several women who said they had personally experienced domestic violence but promised they could be impartial. I'm sorry, are you human?! I knew the instant I learned the charges and saw the defendant that I couldn't be impartial. Maybe I'm just an asshole.

For two more hours, this went on. And on. And on. They would excuse some of the people they had questioned and replace them with people from where I was sitting in the gallery. And then they'd question those new people. For someone whose tolerance of stupid people is exceptionally low, this was one of the worst places to be stuck. I thought I was going to lose my shit.

At 4:25 PM, they finally settled on the Lucky 13. It took 64 potential jurors for them to select the final panel. Don't listen to people who tell you not to worry, that you'll be out by 9:30 AM - it's a lie.

And remember to bring your own coffee to Jury Duty. Seriously.

Phones in a Bathroom

Hang up your motherfucking phone BEFORE you go into the motherfucking bathroom!

To Camp or Not to Camp...

My sisters and I have begun an annual summer tradition we call 'Sister's Weekend'. They come to Colorado and we do something fun and different for a few days.

The first year we went to the JazzAspen Music Festival, where it rained sideways and we drank our soggy sorrows away while watching an amazing performance by Grace Potter.

The second year we went to Steamboat Springs to tube on the Yampa and soak in the hot springs. We laughed. We drank. We made fun of each other.

This year, we went to the Telluride Bluegrass Music Festival, and the brothers-in-law (BroILs) came along.

And we camped.

For those that don't know me - I don't camp. Staying in a 3 star hotel is 'roughing it'. So this was completely outside of my comfort zone. But I was game to give it a shot. How bad could it be?

The answer is: Not Bad. As long as you didn't have to go to the bathroom.

I've been in a Porta Potty before and lived to tell the tale (though I almost died in one after I shit my pants - that's a funny story, remind me to tell you later).

But I will NEVER be the same after what I experienced at the camp ground. Oh. My. Urf.

Even the BroILs were grossed out a few times. I realize people have to shit, but why do I have to go in to a dark box that's been baking in the wicked hot sun all day after a complete stranger has just unleashed the demons of hell?!?! Absolutely not ok.

And the worst part is that, during the day, it's light enough in the Stank Box to see things one should never have to see. Never, ever, ever, ever, EVER!

In the future, if there is ever a need to camp again, I will be 'glamping' in an upscale RV.

At least the music was great and the scenery was beautiful.

p.s. Dude Wipes

We the People...

Are screwed. 

Donald Drumpf, Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio, Hillary Clinton, Bernie Sanders.  

Come November, one of these 5 will be the new leader of the Free World. Sweet baby Jesus...

What gets me is there are still people who think that whatever their candidate is campaigning for/about actually matters. I've said it before and I'll say it again - their agenda doesn't matter. Once they get to the White House, they become a pawn in Congress' centuries-long chess game. They just happen to have the title of Executive Pawn. Oh, you fancy. 

Yes, the President has the Veto - an extremely powerful tool, among others. But unless Congress is proposing mass genocide, a new President will not rock the boat too much because they're already laying the groundwork for re-election in 2020. 

Except for Donald Drumpf. That oxygen thief will do anything - he truly doesn't give a fuck. 

We the People are SCREWED. 

When Mitt Romney was running in 2012, I semi-jokingly said that if he won, I was moving to Mexico. Now that Drumpf is the Republican front-runner, I hear that Canada is offering to help any Americans who want to move North. If the Canadian dollar can make a come back by November, I might actually consider it. 

The moral of the story is this - EVERYONE in Washington is bought. Sure, we can choose to believe that our votes matter. We can choose to believe that it matters whether we're Republican, Democrat, Independent, Conservative, Liberal, yadda, yadda, yadda. At the end of the day, it's The Money that decides our fate. 

And that is why this skeptical, realistic American will likely opt to go with the opposite of the old white dudes who have brought us to this point. Because I'm not sure it can get any worse.