Hooters is Awesome

Anyone who knows me knows about my obsession with boobs. All the women on both sides of my family have big boobs and somehow I just got skipped. Kim got skipped, too, but not as bad as me. I find this joke of nature to be cruel and unfair. To deal with my feelings of hurt and abandonment by the Boob Fairy, I have surrounded myself with well-endowed friends, given Victoria's Secret thousands of dollars in exchange for a little padding (BTW - I got measured at VS and they told me I'm a 34D. Victoria's Secret, you do know the way to a small-chested girl's heart, but I have eyes, VS! I have eyes.), and, most recently, developed a deep love for the greatest restaurant of all time, Hooters.

Hooters just opened in Missoula and, like when any new restaurant opens in Missoula, people FREAKED OUT. It's packed all the time and you see guys running around in Hooters shirts all over town. So last night, Paige, Justin, Ken and I decide to go check it out. Now, many people - namely large-chested women - find Hooters to be offensive and say it objectifies women. I say that's nonsense. I occasionally get caught in that "OMG I was awkwardly staring at your boobs for too long. Sorrrrryyyy" moment and Hooters completely eliminates that moment. You're SUPPOSED to awkwardly stare. It truly combines everything I love: boobs, shiny nylons that hide cellulite, all kinds of fried food, synchronized dancing and singing, hula-hooping, white scrunch socks and booze. What's NOT to love here?!?

So, other than mild disappoinment over the fact that not all the girls had big boobs (Ken reminded me to look at the pool they're pulling from. "We're not in LA, Reno or Vegas, Lizzie.") last night was just pretty awesome. I was dancing along to the YMCA dance, I ate some fried pickles (meh), had two Bud Light Big Daddies and beat the Hooters girl at Hula-Hooping. Apparently, all the Hooters in Portland have closed. I might never come home.

Yearbook Photos

My dear friend Emily Meyer sent me the link to a Web site where you can put your face on the yearbook photos of people all the way back to 1950 and I had quite a good time playing around with it last night. I've included some of my favorite and most hilarious creations below:

Paige Singleterry, circa 1968 and 1990

Brandon Cresswell, circa 1974 and 1994

Elissa Brown, circa 1972 and 1996

If this looks like fun to you (and believe me, it is), find a picture where you're looking straight at the camera and go to www.yearbookyourself.com. Good times!

Jenny is a Mrs.

I went home last week to join in the festivities for the weddings of one of my very closest friends, Jenny Ferguson. Jenny, who has been “technically” planning this wedding for a year (but those of us who know her well know she’s really been planning it since she was about 15 years old), did an amazing job of putting together one of the most beautiful weddings I’ve seen in a long time.

The wedding took place in the evening at St. Patrick’s Catholic Church in Portland. From there, we all ventured to the Aerie Golf Course in Happy Valley for the reception. The site was beautiful and everyone was able to enjoy the sunset while sipping on mojitos and munching on delicious cheese puffs and shrimp skewers.

Once the wedding party joined the group and Jenny and Mike were announced, we all sat down at tables adorned in orchids and ate a dinner of salmon, flank steak, salad, veggies, etc. Jenny’s Matron of Honor, Katie Fuller, gave one of the best speeches I’ve heard in a long time. She listed many of the things Jenny is scared of (banks, convenient stores, driving with me, etc.), but concluded that marrying Mike was one thing Jenny had never been scared to do.

From there, we cut the cake, threw the bouquet (which I didn’t catch AGAIN) and there was much dancing, drinking and fun had by all. CONGRATULATIONS to the new Mr. And Mrs. Mike Streb. I wish you nothing but happiness in the years to come. XOXO

Homeless Woman Attacks

This has nothing to do with Montana and didn't even happen to me, but it's so crazy I just have to post it. My friend Katie in Portland was walking to her car from work in downtown Portland when a homeless woman walked by and slapped her in the face! Katie screamed and just started walking faster. Well, the woman decided she hadn't had enough, came running back, hit her again and tried to take her cell phone. Katie slapped her back and started running toward the car. The woman started chasing her, which is when Katie stabbed at her with her keys, got in the car and called 911.

WHAT??? One thing I can say for sure: that wouldn't happen in Missoula :).

Chicks n Chaps

This weekend, Paige and I, along with our friends Christy, Kristi, Denise and Cori, participated in an event called Chicks n Chaps at the Western Montana State Fair. Chicks n Chaps is part of a larger initiative called Tough Enough to Wear Pink (http://www.toughenoughtowearpink.com/), a nationwide fundraiser in support of research, awareness, education, screening and treatment of breast cancer.

Almost 175 women signed up to participate in the event, which brought real cowboys together to teach all us women how to rope and ride. After some appetizers and a few Coors Lights, we were split up into groups and taken to three stations: bull riding, bronc riding and roping. Paige was the first one to ride the fake bull and did a fantastic job – much better than her mechanical bull showing at the DirecTV company party – and we both roped the plastic bull.

The best part about this whole thing was that we were BY FAR the youngest ones there. The true Missoula Cougars were out in full force, throwing their money at the cause. The High Priestess Cougar even paid $2,500 for a handmade Chicks n Chaps belt buckle. I raised my hand at $250 and felt good about that.

12 Coors Lights later, we were watching our cowboys compete in the rodeo from our VIP seating in the stands and cheering on our favorites (i.e. the ones with the tightest pants). Fun was had by all and I even got to touch a little cowboy butt :).

If Tough Enough to Wear Pink comes to a town near any of you, I highly recommend participating. The next fundraiser we’ll be attending is Huddles and Heels, where the Missoula Griz football team teaches all us naive women the ins and outs of the game (all while drinking several martinis). Some more pics from the event below. Happy Tuesday!

Fishin' in the Dark

Soooo the Western Montana State Fair is in town and Paige, Justin and I took the opportunity to go see the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band last night. For those of you who don’t know, the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band has been together for over 40 years and sings the song, “Fishin’ in the Dark.” A true country bluegrass classic.

The entire night was fantastic – the concert took place out on a big field behind the fairgrounds and you brought a blanket and/or chairs and set up wherever. We got a spot near the back and then went out to grab some food and beers. I got to try something called a Viking, which is a sausage on a stick. Paige said that Vikings only show up at County Fairs and whatnot and that Missoula people went crazy for them, so I had to try one. They’re different from a corn dog because it’s not a hot dog inside, but rather this short, fat German sausage. Let’s be clear – meat on a stick is always delicious.

The thing that surprised me the most is how low-key and laid-back everything was. You bought tickets to buy beers and then you could get as many beers as you wanted at one time (they’d just put them in a big bag for you) and then could carry them anywhere. If this would have been a concert at the Gorge or the Rose Garden, we would have only been able to order one at a time and then we would have had to stay in the “Beer Garden” and if you wanted beer inside the concert, you would have had to wait in the HUGE line inside and then paid $8 for a PBR. The casual air of “whatever” that was following us was very refreshing.

A couple things I learned about concerts at the Fair:

1. If it’s a country concert, watch out for the die-hard fans. Nitty Gritty Dirt Band has been around forever and attracts fans of all ages. There were old people in the stands screaming and lifting their shirts up, girls from high school in tube tops, short shorts and stilettos dancing by the stage, and a group of intense hippies who happened to end up right next to us. They were flinging themselves around all night doing what I assume they though was dancing and yelling, “Woooooo, Doggy!” over and over and over again. I would have been pissed off if it weren’t so amusing. I managed to capture a photo of one of them by pretending to take a picture of Paige:

2. People will THROW DOWN if you mess with them in the Porta-Potty line. There were ten Porta-Pottys set up for the concert and three lines of people. This left three stalls for each line and one wild card. Two things kept consistently happening: 1. Little kids would skip the entire line. I’m sorry, but OH NO YOU DON’T. Just because you are 7 years old and have a smaller bladder than me, you think that gives you the right to cut the line? I’ve had four Coors Light’s, Kid! Talk to me when we’re on the same level. 2. People in the line next to us would take the wild card bathroom every time. This was okay until one girl tried to go for one of our three stalls. This is unacceptable to Paige and me and so we’re like, “Ummmm – I don’t think so! That’s our stall!” Then the whole line starts yelling and then ALL the lines are yelling at her. AND SHE GOES IN ANYWAY! People started screaming about how they were going to tip her over and we’re laughing thinking it’s all in good fun (except it was really inappropriate that she still went in. Who does that? Super ballsy) until we hear really angry yelling coming from two lines over and an old man screaming, “What? You think you’re better than us? We’re all the same here!” Turns out a group of middle aged drunk men tried to form their own line up at the front. They were successfully heckled away. Lesson learned: Wait for your turn in the Porta-Potty line, keep quiet, and stick to your own stalls.

A great evening, indeed. Oh – and I tried to buy a cowboy hat with pink accents on it and Justin wouldn’t hear of it. So he just took our picture instead:


Good times!!

I ate a bee

So I've just realized that in the months since I moved here, I've been exposed to more bugs than I was in the last 5 years or so. I've gotten upwards of 100 mosquito bites, a couple bites from some kind of weird "black fly" and everyone keeps talking about the massive Hobo Spiders. Um, no thank you.

In the midst of all of this, Paige tells me about her fears of spiders crawling into her pajamas at night and Brandon sends me this: http://www.barefootfoodie.com/2008/07/last-place-youd-look.html (FYI - this is PG-13. Maybe even rated R).

So last night we go out to the house our friend Joe is housesitting for on Blue Mountain for a BBQ. I go to put something in the freezer and there is a HUGE black widow in a plastic bag. Whattttt??? Apparently, Joe had it in the freezer for one of his classes. Spider identification or some crap. Right next to the food - bleh.

So THEN Paige and I go outside to jump on the trampoline (which, by the way, is MUCH HARDER now that I’m an adult. I was all winded and sweaty. Awkward.) and I put my beer down by the fence. Then, when we’re done, we go back in and I go to take a drink of my beer. I feel something in my mouth and it feels weird. I think it might be a piece of lime so I spit it out in my hand. I ATE A BEE. A BEE WAS IN MY MOUTH. Fuzzy and kind of crunchy and completely disgusting. Suddenly there’s beer all over the floor and I’m screaming in typical Lizzie fashion and dashing for the bathroom to wash my mouth out. Disgusting. So if any of you come to visit me, bring lots of Benadryl and be prepared to get some extra protein in your diet.