What Possessed Me

Mountain Casual Meltdown

Last year, Fauxhawk and I were invited to a tiny wedding in Breckenridge, Colorado. The bride (former model) and the groom (stylish and domesticated) declared the dress code "mountain casual."

When Fauxhawk told me about the preferred attire, the conversation went something like this:

P: (Overreacting) What the fuck is mountain casual? I live in New York! I don't do casual!

F: I have no fucking idea.

P: Fuck! What the fuck?

F: Whatever. Just bring a bathing suit. They have a hot tub.

P: (Pacing) Are you fucking kidding me? A hot tub? With a bunch of models in Mountain Casual bikinis? You have just described my worst nightmare.

F: Honey, it's going to be fine.

P: (Curled into fetal position) No, it's not! It's not going to be fine! Because I don't know what Mountain Casual means and I have to be in a bathing suit at the height of the Uglies!

F: I heard one of the guests has fake tits.

P: Oh my God! Is this supposed to make me feel better?

F: I'm just saying, they might be a little cheesy.

P: I AM FAT AND FLAT CHESTED AND I AM NOT GOING. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME.

F: Sweetie, really...please...can you stop that? Can you please stop rocking back and forth and moaning? It's going to be fine.

And of course it was. It was lovely. Especially since I bought a new wardrobe, brought it with me, and was the only person dressed in Mountain Casual.

Divine retribution for being such a brat.

Photo from here with thanks.

I was wrong about Tuesday being Baby Llama Day

So wrong.

Baby Llama Day is actually only celebrated in Peru. Tuesday was actually Fire in Your Building Day. In some countries, it's celebrated as Clean Shit Up After the Fire Day. Because Fauxhawk and I maintain an ecumenical household, we observed both traditions yesterday.

So how did you guys celebrate? In our building, the restaurant downstairs left a huge amount of grease in their oven, which caught on fire. This offering to Hephaestus, Greek god of fire and the forge, was the first part of the festivities. Then, in the middle of the night, there was a parade of firemen and cops, who did a lot of standing around. Unlike other celebrations of this kind in the city, no one was hurt, though some cats escaped and are still at large (not ours).

The next part of the fun was going back into the apartment after several hours to find a special surprise - a smashed skylight and an enormous hole in the bedroom ceiling! Those crazy fireman sure know how to party! One of the best things was not having any electricity and stumbling around for flashlights. (If you want to party hardy, wear the bedazzled headlamp you got for your trip to Ethiopia and walk around pretending you are part of the rescue and recovery team. Follow the rescue and recovery team around, providing assistance with your incredibly bright headlamp. Know that they envy your headlamp and feel really good about that.)



If you live in a country that starts with the letters M, S, T, or U, you probably know what came next, right? Clean-up party! All day long!

So that's why I was a little quiet yesterday. I may be a little quiet today too. I'm totally hung over, dudes. I can't party like I used to.

P's Happy Place

This is where P. goes when people are mean to her:



It's called her Happy Place - the place in her head where she can do anything she wants with impunity. Today she is seeking retribution with a four-foot axe and her favorite pair of shoes. This only makes her feel better for about seven minutes, at which point she searches for candy.

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