Dry Weddings

As my cousin so eloquently put it, there are some things that just shouldn't be dry, including weddings, first dates and pool parties. Truer words were never spoken.

This last weekend was spent in my parent’s hometown of Condon, OR, to attend my cousin Earl’s wedding. His wedding with no booze. That’s right, a dry wedding. I truly believe there is alcohol at weddings for a reason and this one was no exception. Because there were enough little nuggets of goodness to fill four blog posts, I will try to point out just the big highlights:

1. The bridesmaid dresses were forest green with lace shawls. They were all wearing black cowboy boots with them
2. The woman playing the organ had the piano skills of a three year old
3. A woman got up in the middle of the ceremony and surprised the couple with her own rendition of "A Moment Like This," by Kelly Clarkson
4. When they kissed, motorcycle revving was playing in the background
5. They walked out to "International Harvester"
6. The bouquets were made out of wheat from our family wheat farm
7. They drove away in a combine
8. I broke a plastic chair and fell on my ass when SURROUNDED by people over 300 pounds. Of course it's my chair to go...

And there so much more, like a spam carving contest and old ladies letting people sign their boobs and me passing out in the car and my parents leaving me there. Really, just a quality, quality weekend.

And yes, all of that really happened. I’m still in awe.

Big hats make me happy

So I know I said I was going to restart the blog… but then I didn’t… but now I’m back! And with fun stories and everything. First up, the Kentucky Derby.

One of my clients when I worked in Seattle was based in Lexington, Kentucky and I learned quite a bit about the Kentucky Derby from those girls: everything needs to be big. Big hats, big hair, big boobs (if you’ve got them. I don’t). And I LOVE big hats and big hair and big boobs. So when I was invited to a Kentucky Derby this year to benefit Oregon Active, I jumped at the chance.

The day started out with mimosas (okay, just champagne) with the girls at 8:30am and snowballed into mint juleps and vodka sodas by 2pm. There were some amazing hats that were clearly crafted by very creative women. A guy friend of mine was there in a plaid blazer, pink chinos, green boat shoes and a pink tie. Everyone really went all out and it couldn’t have been more fun. I FULLY recommend everyone throw one of these parties every year if for nothing else than the fun of dressing up.

I see many a theme party in my future…

I’m back! From outer space! (*aka the blog for Elissa)

So I don’t know if anyone reads this anymore. You know, since I stopped writing when I had NOTHING to say anymore. Because I was unemployed. And boring. And sad.

But now, how the tides have turned! I’m employed! And exciting! And happy! I’m working and traveling and quite possibly taking a pole dancing class (it’s EXERCISE, people!). I’m hanging out with friends and having wacky vacations. Really, anything could happen. May promises some big weekends including, but not limited to: a Kentucky Derby party (my hat is glorious), a Condon wedding (a DRY Condon wedding at that…), my long-awaited return to Missoula (where the Cougar Club will be reunited), and a 30th wedding anniversary party in La Grande, OR.

They all should provide quite the party (first for me and then for your reading pleasure). I only wish I’d already finished those pole dancing classes…

Rugrats

So I don't want kids. Have I ever brought this up? I taught swimming lessons for 8 years and studied to be a teacher in college. I have a major in English with minors in Education and Psychology. I was student teaching my senior year and about three weeks before graduation, I walked into my class room and the hate for every one of those kids ran so deep, I turned around, walked out and never looked back.

I thought the hate would go away but it only grew for the next couple years. My sister said she knew it was really serious when I threatened to stick my arm out and clothesline a little girl who was running up and down the aisle of a plane we were on. My anger and general dislike was now bordering on violence...

But last night I went to dinner with the family I used to babysit for in high school. They have three kids: two girls and a boy. And they are the best children known to man. Incredibly intelligent, hilarious, well-rounded, sweet and well behaved. All the time! They are all adorable and talented and a true joy to be around. They respect their parents, get good grades and play every sport you can think of. I think if this family teamed up with my do-gooding sister and her environment-loving boyfriend they could collectively bring about world peace. While I watched from the couch with a glass of wine...

So thank you, Lances, for renewing my hope that I won't want to give away my own children as soon as they've left the womb. But, be warned: I'm still not having more than one...

New President = Drinking on a Tuesday

Yay for America! Finally a new President. I remember when Bush was first elected and we were all watching the results on the big TV in the basement of my sorority. I hadn't voted (even though I was 18) and another one of my "sisters" led our school's Young Democrats group. She was sobbing and screaming about how Bush was going to take away our birth control. That little exaggeration definitely had me wishing I'd voted...

Even though we still have our birth control, we had a lot of other important things taken away from us. Mainly our confidence in and respect for our country's leadership. I had a lot of friends and family in DC and my favorote stat from today was that there were over one and a half million people gathered to watch Obama speak and that there had not been ONE arrest. If that doesn't give you hope for the future peace of our nation, I don't know what will.

So, to celebrate this historic day I'm forcing one of my friends with a "flexible" job to hot the town with me. Now I just need to find bars with Obama-themed drinks so I can literally drink in his awesomeness. Too much? Nahhhhh....

God bless America. And Hugh Grant.

From the first time he asked me if I'd "go out" with him, I knew he'd be my first kiss. Granted, I literally sprinted away from him in fear and locked myself in a bathroom (true story), but that was because I was nervous and I liked him. That's right, Eric Wilson. If you're stalking me out there in the wide blogosphere, in fourth grade I thought you would be my first kiss. Maybe it was the fact that you gave me a pencil eraser shaped like a dinosaur. Or that you hoarded up all your delicious flouride tablets to share with me. Or that you had tremendous roller skating skills. Whatever the reason, you were most definitely my grade school / middle school crush.

But after you chased me on your bike and I left you standing outside the bathroom waiting for a yes or a no, it was never the same with us. So, dreams dashed, I had to look elsewhere for my first kiss...

Two years later, at horse camp at Camp Collins, I met him. Simon. Tall, skinny, luxurious Hugh Grant-ish floppy blonde hair. Clear skin and a different Hypercolor shirt every day. With my awesome puffy new hairdo, skinny legs and oversized puff paint t-shirts we were a match made in heaven. We shared a love of anything the color forest green, extrememly light colored jeans, cheesy rolls and singing the song, "Yesterday" by the Beatles at campfire. Our cabinmates passed notes for us for an entire week and, finally, it was decided. First, we would sit next to eachother at campfire and HOLD HANDS (gasp!). The next day - our last day at camp - we would meet before flag and, while everyone was watching, kiss.

I don't remember much. I remember that he was wearing a purple t-shirt and Adidas flip flops. I believe I was wearing jean shorts and a dark tank-top. So you can all have a nice visual, this was me in 6th grade:

Obviously not much has changed. We walked slowly towards eachother, said hi, and he leaned in and kissed me. No hands, no body touching, just lips. There was yelling and clapping, I heard the National Anthem blaring from the flag pole and then, like that, it was over. I lined up with my cabin, watched his cabinmates high five him and walked into the cafeteria to load up on cheesy rolls.

I now associate kissing with applause, cheese and my love of America. It just really doesn't get much better than that...

Elastic Pants and Days of Our Lives

Today, I had a classic unemployment converstation via IM with my friend A. This is just ONE example of the ways my life is slowly evolving:

A: Leaving work now--i'll probably be over at 6. Sound good?

L: Sounds perfect. I'm in spandex and no bra. FYI. Might put a bra on before my dad gets home. MAYBE.

A: I love it. I'll wear a bra :).

L: Thanks - my Dad will really appreciate it.

Is the constant wearing of elastic pants and watching WAY too much daytime TV sad? No, my friends, no. IT'S AMAZING.

I am officially a nerd

So over the course of the last few days, I've been called out as a nerd by several different people. My nerdy offenses are as follows:

1. I am listening to the last Harry Potter book, The Deathly Hallows, on book on CD in my car. I tend to get where I'm going and sit in the car for a while to listen to more of it.

My response: It's HARRY POTTER! I'm shocked it's taken me this long to get to it! I mean, does he die? Is Dumbledore still alive? Does he reconcile with Ginny?? So many questions to be answered! And what else am I doing with my day? NOTHING.

2. I interviewed at a PR firm that specializes in 3D gaming, animation and visualization and got SUPER EXCITED.

My response: Come on, people. I would get to go to tradeshows like CES! And Siggraph! And work with editors from VFX World! If that isn't everyone's dream job, I don't know what is. Side note: My friend K just went to CES and stood 10 feet away from Travis Barker and DJAM at a CES party. And got Travis Barker's drumstick. Not so nerdy NOW, is it??

3. I would prefer to see the foreign vampire movie, "Let the Right One In" to Anne Hathaway and Kate Hudson's, "Bride Wars."

My response: At this rate I'm closer to becoming a vampire than I am to getting married. Enough said.

Christmas keeps going!

So a while ago I joined this online community called 20 Something Bloggers. It's a great place to find new and interesting blogs and connect new people to your own. So I signed up for the 20SB Secret Santa. We got paired up with other bloggers and send one another gifts. I sent JD the hilarious book, Chuck Norris: 400 Facts About the World's Greatest Human. It had Paige in tears for a week before I sent it. But with all the moving and weather and holidays, I JUST received my gift from my Secret Santa. And it's awesome. I got the new header for my blog (extremely cool since I'm so technologically stunted), an adorable snowman window scraper, a Christmas tree candle, and a cute book. All from the Dutchess of Kickball. So thank you, thank you!

Now, if Santa would just deliver me a JOB, that would be greeeaaaatttt...

$34.99 might not be worth it

So in my quest to rid myself of 8 months worth of Montana-style drinking, I've joined a gym. I usually try to find the nice gym in town so it makes me want to go. Now that I have to watch my money, spending $125 a month on a "club" vs a "gym" didn't seem like the smartest decision.

So I joined Bally's. I have always avoided the Bally's/24 Hour Fitness/Golds Gym's of the world because they just seem so sleazy. And the men are always too muscular and tan with cropped hair and bicep tattoos. I hate the way they're always going to refill their water/protein powder/steroid conconctions and then taking 20 minute breaks between sets. And the women all have fake boobs and wear really tight pants and don't put their hair up in a ponytail. Who wants sweaty hair? And a sweaty back?

And then there's the smell. You know what I'm talking about. Like a mix between Wal-Mart and a rollerskating rink. If both of those were packed with sweaty people.

The gym I joined has a normal sleazy section and then it also has a "women's only" section. I was fascinated. All the same machines and weights, but no men. And since the tan, boobied women tend to stay on the sleazy side to attract the sleaveless shirted, no-neck men, the "women's only" side is full of slighty overweight to full-on obese older women.

So I'm torn here... which side do I go to?? Do I stay on the women's only side until I save up enough money for a boob job? Or do I brave the judgemental d-bags on the sleazy side in order to save myself the shame of being one of the "older crowd?"

Decisions, decisions... Meh, I'll probably just stop going to the gym.

The official 2009 post

Welcome 2009! I know I've been ridiculous about the blogging, but I have an excuse: I was busy. Whhaaaaa? Busy over the holidays you say? Yes, that's correct. Here's what I've been busy with since I last posted:

• Tricking my parents, driving with a friend's family and showing up in Portland after all my flights were cancelled and I thought I'd be spending Christmas alone in Montana. Surprise!
• Drinking copious amounts of booze.
• Celebrating Christmas with my HS friends by attending the annual cocktail party and the annual Christmas Sweater brunch:

• Shopping even though I don't currently make any money (see above shirt).
• Noticing that although Portland has some attractive men, they all wear pants that are too tight. Fine, maybe my pants are too tight right now, too, but I'm hoping my suffocated legs aren't screaming, "gaaaayyyyyyy!" like theirs are.
• Finishing a bottle of Patron with my cousin at a family dinner party:

• Drinking my first official fishbowl and watching my cousin try to order one without ice:

B: "I want a Long Island fishbowl without ice."

Waitress: "Without ice? Like you want more juice?"

B: "No, not more juice. Less ice."

Waitress: "So you want more booze."

B: "Yes, and no ice."

Waitress: "I can't do that. It's illegal."

B: "That's crap. Just do it."



I love drinking with family...

• Spending NYE with high school friends, my friend Christy from Missoula and my friend E and her sister at our friend's, "The Future's So Bright You Gotta Wear Shades" party. After looking around at the complete LACK of single and attractive men, I was heard screaming across the party for my friend Christy so I could hug her into 2009. If you don't kiss someone on NYE is that bad luck?

• Forcing all my friends to watch the most underrated movie of 2008: "Stepbrothers." WONDERFUL.
• Awkwardly quoting from a movie no one has seen, making me sound crazy: "Dragon, I forgot to ask you: do you like guacamole?" Yaaaaa.
• Flying back to Missoula and immediately rallying for a Goodbye Bar Crawl. My friends sent me out in STYLE. More to come on that.
• Packing, moving and cleaning in 12 hours. And hungover.
• Enduring a MISERABLE and horrifying drive home with my father. The weather couldn't have been worse. My parents were mocking me for putting studded tires on the Jetta and now I hear nothing. Damn straight.

And now I'm back in Portland! And contracting! And interviewing! And generally living in a weird dream trance. I have to stay in this weird dream trance because I'm 28 and living with my parents. No normal person could deal without that without vodka, pills and a constant state of denial.

Happy New Year all!

The Anti-Christmas Letter

For the last four years or so, my dad has written a Christmas letter to go along with our family Christmas card. He got tired of hearing about how perfect everyone's lives were in their Christmas letters, so every year he takes the opportunity to glorify the family pets and make fun of his children. This year he took the opportunity to out my being unemployed to all our friends and family. Here's his 2008 version. Enjoy:

THE CHRONICLES: “Tony Arriveth”

A big thing happened this year. Yes, indeed! Oh, the human family members have done passably well this past year: no arrests, one tattoo, piercings holding steady—more about all of that later. However, as I’m sure you each recall vividly, our cherished miniature Schnauzer, Cleo, passed away in Dec. 2007. Obviously, we have suffered much greater human loss, but we loved that little Devil. So we got Tony: as in Tony Bennett. Anthony: as in Antony and Cleopatra. Pretty clever, eh. Tony is a miniature Schnauzer as well, but with a pleasant disposition. Who knew they came in that flavor.

This Season’s Greeting letter should conclude right here. The highlight of the year has been revealed. It’s all downhill now. But, Gloria won’t “Let It Be”, so (in alphabetical order):

Kimberly: As part of the two-headed “kimybrian”, Kimberly traveled to Peru and Bolivia in the winter-spring of ’08. She volunteered with a non-profit (what else), teaching Spanish and English, and generally improving the world. The Brian part of “kimybrian” pushed Kimberly to high altitudes in Bolivia (no drug jokes), optically deceiving salt flats, and other cold places that made for great pictures and adventure. He also undertook humanitarian work. Unlike my band, The Beatles, “kimybrian” play on. NEWS FLASH: Kimberly accepted a for profit job in Dec. ’08. She is paid (a little) and receives benefits. She is a sell-out, but her parents are prideful!

Lizzie: Elizabeth embraced adventure, wilderness, and a return to the Bennett roots. She rented her house, loaded up the truck and moved to Missoula, MT. Montana that is: outdoor streams, cowboys and Griz football. It was a good experience. Then, the economic collapse: the company went from 16 employees to five by Thanksgiving. In early December, it went to four employees: the two owners and two others. Lizzie went to the front of the soup line. Welcome home, Lizzie! As part of my on-going plot to acquire Jackson, the team’s star Pembroke Welsh Corgi, Elizabeth has been encouraged to join the Peace Corps (I feel like George Steinbrenner). A posting to Africa would be nice. We shall see.

Will: Remember turning 21, drinking too much, getting a tattoo, and guiding white-water rafting trips? Me neither. But, Will has added this line-up to his growing resume. Youthful exuberance—what more can we say. Will is still a collegian at the U of W. Nursing is his idea for future employment, probably an idea generated by observation of his parents’ degenerating condition.

John, Gloria and Jose: Life’s good. Our friends keep plugging along with us, and we manage a little leisure here and there. Jose has been stockpiling kitty kibble since the financial collapse, but I think it is an over-reaction. He could afford to lose a couple of pounds anyway. In sum, we go to bed earlier and remember less, but we are happy to be sending out this letter. Merry Christmas!

Home for the Holidays

Merry Christmas!! So I finally made it back to Portland. My flights were all cancelled due to weather on the 22nd and I wasn't going to be able to get another one until December 26th, which obviously defeats the purpose of coming home for Christmas... but the parents of some of my good friends were nice enough to clear space for me in their car and offered Jackson and me a ride to Portland. Yes!!

Eleven harrowing hours later (it actually wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be), a bout of car sickness, a burger at the famous Husdon's in Coueur d' Alene and a few stops for the dogs, I surprised my parents with the best gift of all: ME. Unfortunately, my sister got stuck in Chicago with her boyfriend and his family, but she'll be back tomorrow and I'l sure we'll do Christmas all over again.


Regardless, my Christmas Eve consisted of the following:

• Cooking Prime Rib with my mom, dad and brother
• Drinking lots of champagne
• Opening a bottle of French red wine my dad was given when my brother was born (21 years ago)

• Opening another bottle of red wine because that one just wasn't...quite...right...
• Talking about politics, religion, homosexuality, marriage and whether or not I should sell my eggs to make money
• Making a fire and drinking hot chocolate with 100 proof peppermint schnapps
• Watching WALL-E and tearing up at least 10 times
• Watching my tipsy father fall over trying to let the cat in the house

Classic Bennett Christmas.

I hope everyone had a wonderful day with their families and friends. Can't wait to see what the New Year brings! Happy, happy Holidays from Jackson and Lizzie.

Son of a B*TCH!

Soooo... I'm currently trying to get home to Portland for Christmas. Not going to happen, apparently, since Portland is seeing the most snow it's had for 40 years. But this layover afforded me the opportunity to go to a Missoula yearly ritual: the Annual Mo Club (where I met Bill Clinton) Christmas Party. You buy a drink and you get a arms length of tickets. Throughout the night they offer up amazing baskets full of booze. Who doesn't love baskets full of booze??

So our group obviously gathered a large amount of tickets. At least 10 baskets went by without us winning when one came up: 17386. We were 17387. Of course, I screamed out (much too loudly): SON OF A B*TCH!!! Well, three baskets after that, we WON!! And this is what was included in the basket:

• One stuffed teddy bear


• Black Velvet Canadian Whiskey


• A Ranier Beer Gold Towel


• A fifth of Ruppelminze


• A liter of Jamieson whiskey


• Travel size Black Velvet


• A candy cane full of M&Ms


• Travel size of Gordon's Vodka


• A liter of Seagrams 7


• A liter of Evan Willaims Kentucky Bourbon


• Travel sive Mr. Boston Peppermint Schnapps


• Montana Griz Nike baseball hat


• Last, but not least, a liter of Jose Cuervo

And it all came in a huge Dasani beverage cooler:

Two notable things happened after this:

1. We had an adorable boy offer to scrape off our windshield. Um, okay... go right ahead.

2. We watched "A Walk in the Clouds" and Paige made this comment about the movie: "It's a glorious life... he's old, he has limitless alcohol, he has a band, a mexican poncho and stirs up trouble. What could be better?

So true, Paige. So true. These are the moments that make me sad to leave Missoula...

Wooowwwww

I think I just pulled a muscle in my shoulder blowdrying my hair. It's obviously time to start working out again.

And, as a reminder to myself, working out does not mean lifting a very heavy glass (or, you know, bottle) of wine to my mouth.

Not so Christmasy dream

So the Griz got their asses handed to them by the Richmond Spiders in the championship game on Friday. Very sad...Montanans are obviously upset. Anyway, I'm assuming the fact that we played the Spiders (what a stupid mascot BTW) is what put spiders in my my mind in the first place, but that night I had a HORRIBLE spider dream. I hate spiders anyway, but this was truly disturbing. I was in the basement apartment in my house and there were little spiders EVERYWHERE, crawling on me and up the walls. But the worst part was this disgusting spider sack hanging from the ceiling. There was a enormous black widow and some other kind of spider in it. And I couldn't leave the room because it was hanging in the stairwell and I was scared it would drop on me if I tried to leave.

Sorry, that was rambling, but my brain is in a weird place these days. I'm officially moving back to Portland on January 4th so I've been packing the house. I HATE packing. But my biggest concern right now, is what am I going to call the blog?? I can't be Montana Lizzie if I don't live in Montana! Anyone have any suggestions?

Happy Happy Joy Joy

It has been requested that I write a blog post that DOESN'T depress people. Whhhaaaattttt? What with divorce, job searching, health issues, and an impending move in negative 25 degree weather, it's almost impossible. But I do have one constant in my life that always brings me joy... Jackson. He has had quite a time playing in all the snow we currently have, so watch and enjoy:

Putting things in perspective

So I went out with this guy a friend of mine set me up with a few times in 2007. Nothing serious, a few dates and it just dwindled away.

I just found out he died of heart failure in May of 2007. Unemployment and divorce don't seem so bad anymore. Hug everyone you love.

Two Sad Sacks

So my best friend is getting divorced. And living with me. Which means all of our combined saddness meshes together every night to equal one huge ball of ridiculous. We've taken on separate roles. She works, makes money and goes to counseling. I stay home, watch TV and cook. Together, it's a peaceful harmony. Tonight, I cooked us a delicious meal of cheddar and potato soup and garlic bread. I asked Paige (aka my husband) to pick up some champagne on the way home. It became glaringly clear that we were meant to be together when Paige was faced with the difficult decision of whether to buy the $4, $5, $6 or $32 bottle of champagne and, just like I would have, she walked in the door with the bottle of $6 Cooks. Not horrible, not great.

Just Cooks.

Paige, constantly trying to deny our alcholism, only brought home one bottle. So, after we ate and the bottle was gone, we decide to head to the gas station to get a few more. On our way back into the house, Paige turns to me with a bottle of Cooks in each hand and says, "you know when you're unemployed and getting a divorce when..."

So here's our list:

10. You downgrade from Frexinet to Cooks
9. You start to think something called "Island Lime Tequila" is a more economical way to drink than just buying tequila and limes.
8. You hold your dog a little too tight at night (and get jealous when he tries to sleep with your new roommate).
7. Your big dining experience for the week consists of meeting at the Triple Dragon chinese restaurant (that's connected to the Red Lion Inn) for the "Happy Times Lunch Special."
6. You run out of dog food and consider feeding your dog stale cereal.
5. You get a little too emotionally involved in the TLC show, Jon & Kate + 8.
4. To keep yourself occupied during the day, you're currently reading two stellar novels: The Truth About Chuck Norris: 400 Facts About the World's Greatest Human, and My Horizontal Life: True Life Tales of One Night Stands.
3. You move in with your unemployed best friend while she's out of town, microwave some seriously sketchy shrimp, decide english muffins and Coca Cola Cherry Zero are the only safe way to go, and still don't pay rent.
2. You have honest conversations about selling drugs and whether or not you could feasibly lose enough weight to become strippers.
1. You call eachother every hour, on the hour, just to make sure the other one is in a stable state of mind (aka suicide watch).

Good times, people. Good times:

Too Tall to Date

So I was recently told that I was "too tall to date." I'm almost 5'11'' and LOVE being this tall. I've always had tall friends, so I've never given a second thought to putting on an awesome pair of 4" heels and just OWNING the tallness.

So when some douchey little - and I do mean little - architect man tells me I'm too tall to date when I am looking AMAZING, I decided to say a big f you him and went in the exact opposite direction. Which is what led to these:

5" heels. I thought I could handle them. I can't. I wore them last night and was holding onto tables in order to walk to the bathroom. If I hadn't had friends to hold my hand while I was walking down the stairs, who knows where I'd be today.

Don't get me wrong - the outfit was awesome and the shoes are glorious. But I don't think being unemployed is the best time to break an ankle and end up on the emergency room.

On the bright side, Jackson seems to love the shoes:

But Jackson is also loving me being unemployed, so he's not really the best judge...