Why you should never invite your sister on a business trip.

Last week I had an impromptu trip to Denver to visit the recruiting team at our corporate office. Without going into a lot of detail I will tell you this was a trip that made me nervous because of the typical Corporate vs. Region power struggles and office politics so common in the world of big companies. I don't do office politics well...and saying that is an understatement of such epic proportions it is akin to saying the Titanic had a little fender bender.

The work part of my trip went really well and I am honestly glad I went. I met lots of people who totally rock the Kasbah and they made me feel very welcome. BUT, it was meeting after meeting after meeting after meeting after meeting after meeting......sorry.......got stuck in the memory loop of those soul sucking time wasters that generally result in multiple additions to my immortal "to-do" list. Oh, don't worry, next time I'll tell you how I really feel.

The upside of my week in Denver was that Lexy came with me. For about 5 minutes I was overwhelmingly excited because she was coming all the way to Denver just to hang out with me. Then I realized she had ulterior motives and I was simply her excuse to go to Denver to see a guy. I was going to be mad, but that was before I realized the appropriate emotion was pride. That girl is Just. Like. Me. JUSTLIKEME! It is so exciting to watch her grow up and be boy crazy and headstrong and so insanely snarky that I am filled with equal amounts of pride and fear.

I made the mistake of hitting the town with her on Wednesday night when what I really should have done was go to dinner and then go to bed. I had been fighting off some kind of crud all week and the last thing I needed was alcohol and sleep deprivation. But, really? When has THAT ever stopped me?! So, off we went to downtown Denver.

I won't bore you with too many details of the evening, but it went a bit like this:

Stop 1: The Mellow Mushroom. Hockey on TV, beer on tap, awesome pizza.
Stop 2: The Tilted Kilt. $3.50 martinis. Kick ass bartender. Drunk girl who paid our bar tab in trade for half of a Pineapple Upside Down Cake shot I was just about to finish. I love that drunk girl. Hell...I have been known to BE that drunk girl.
Stop 3: Bar I never got the name of. Really bad karaoke. Totally random crowd of people. Free ride back to the hotel thanks to Lexy's dude. Thanks Tom!

Here are a couple of pics for your viewing pleasure:

Me and Lexy at the Mellow Mushroom:


Me and Lexy at the Tilted Kilt:


Lexy proving her ability to tie a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue. The bartender was quite impressed. Hi John!


Oh - and Lexy apparently has a picture of me asleep in the backseat of Tom's car literally hugging his hockey sticks. I have threatened her with slow, painful death if she makes that picture public. All y'all better have my back on this...I mean it...she posts. She dies.

So...we arrive at the hotel at 2:30 in the morning. I fall into bed already realizing that maybe I don't feel so great. The fever and chills were kind of a clue. I get up at 5:30 in the morning and realize how incredible stupid the sleep deprivation is because the full on flu has struck. And all you haters can stuff it because it really was the flu no matter what you think. Just because you know me doesn't mean for even one second it wasn't really the flu. Haters.

Thursday was not a great day for me. I spent the majority of the morning running back and forth to the bathroom and sitting in meetings. Remember all that soul sucking I mentioned earlier? Add nausea. That was my morning. Then, in what must surely be the pinnacle of joy and joyness I got to go to the airport and get on a plane! Whee!

The lady at the ticket counter was a bit dubious about my ability to fly.

Delta lady: Are you sure you are ok to fly? You don't look so good.
Me: Well, I have a fever and I am nauseated, but don't worry...I won't throw up on your plane.
Delta lady: Are you sure? How do you know?
Me: Based on the morning I have had I am quite certain there are no fluids what-so-ever left in my body. At this moment, I am a completely empty shell of human who is barely standing upright and hoping like hell you will simply give me my boarding pass so I can get through security and sit down.
Delta lady: Gate C40.

I made it home. I didn't throw up on anyone. And then I slept for 12 hours.

And that is my trip to Denver.

Vomit AND Superheroes. No lie.

I've been up since just before 6 am. It's a Saturday and I can't even believe I wasn't able to sleep longer than that. On the upside, that whole insomnia thing seems to have worked itself out.

Went out on the town last night. Found this spectacularly awesome dive bar. This place was the bomb - cheap beer, smoke filled, pool table with crooked cues, bad karaoke and bikers. BIKERS, Y'ALL. I mean, really? It. Was. Awesome. I fully intend to return. Probably tonight. Fair warning has been given.

OK...I've bored myself so I'll move on.

Last weekend was Drew's birthday extravaganza. The best part of the entire night was witnessing the epic reflexes of my friend Carrie. Let's set the stage, shall we?

Open on a hotel room. Several adults are debating movies and drinking Captain Morgan's Tattoo with Dr. Pepper. (I had to throw that in because it rules.) In the adjoining room four 8 - 10 year olds have been shoveling pizza, root beer and birthday cake down their throats in a disgusting display of little boy gluttony while staging an epic battle between the Jedi and the bad guys from Gears of War (don't question these things - just roll with it).

Drew enters hotel room not currently under attack.

Drew: Mom, I don't feel good.

Me: What's the matter, Bug?

Drew: (crawls up into my lap) I don't know. I just don't feel good.

Me: OK. What hurts? --- (speaking to room) He feels really, really hot.

Drew: Well, I think it's my stom.......

At this point, Carrie (who is clearly some sort of superhero in hiding who possesses freakishly fast reflexes) LEAPS from the bed, runs a wide arc around the room, grabs a trash can and shoves it under Drew's chin. Everyone else in the room is sitting stone still, mouths open, still furiously trying to process what the hell is going on.

Drew:.......ach....BLAARRRRGGGGGG........

The kid literally projectile vomits into the trash can Carrie has produced. (Seriously, y'all...it's like she's some kind of freakin' wizard.)

Entire room: WWOOOAAHHHHH!!!

Eric: Holy shit, Carrie! How did you do that?

Chris: (shakes head) She came out of nowhere. I was still trying to process what Drew was saying and she was just...THERE...I mean...holy hell. I need a drink.

Dave: I'm impressed. A little queasy, but impressed.

Julie: Ummm...there are no words. None.

Kelly: She just saved me from getting puked on. Twice. Once from Drew. Once from Dave.

Me: Would someone please, please, please, for the love of all that is holy get this can out from under my nose....

Drew: Hey! I feel better! Can I go play now? Can I have a Root beer? And some cake?

And...scene.

Here are pics: