Drunk with Jesus

My work schedule took me to Mobile, AL this week.  I flew in yesterday (Fat Tuesday) and am leaving today (not soon enough).  I opted to fully embrace the pre-Lent custom of noshing on some Polish magic, a.k.a. paczki, for my Tuesday morning breakfast.


To conclude Fat Tuesday, I hit up Burger King for a Fried Fat Sandwich (chicken sandwich).  So, last night while suffering from the worst fat-induced stomach ache, I watched "Love And Other Drugs" and fell in love with Jake Gyllenhaal.

So, here we are Ash Wednesday; a new day and 40 days of sacrifice looking me square in the face.  I went to mass this morning at St. Vincent Catholic Church.  This church should be renamed St. Stank.  Holy macaroni that place smelled!  I somehow made it through without gagging, got my ashes and high-tailed it outta there.

Aside from giving up cheap perfume and B.O., I will be focusing my Lenten promise on going without junk food, Diet Coke and alcohol.  Not too hard, except that I love Chex Mix with Sierra Nevadas.


To round out this entry, I would like to bring the level down to "serious."  Driving out of the Coke plant yesterday for a lunch break, there was a homeless man posted up on a corner holding a "Need Money" sign in one hand and a 4-WEEK-OLD-BABY-PUPPY in the other. 

What has this world come to?  Not only is there chaos in Libya, but now puppy's being prostituted for beer money?  I am speechless.  I was hoping to run into the bum today so I could sucker punch him and steal the pup.  No such luck.  I am leaving Alabama puppy-free and with a head full of frizzy hair.

Tricked out Dance Moves

It's official.... we have set a date!  On Saturday, November 19th, 2011 Christopher Edward Willis will become Christopher Edward Monforton.  We couldn't be more pumped.  Next comes the second most important step to wedding planning:  finding a sweet band.


Since the band idea is mine, I want to ensure whomever is booked can really bring down the house.  And by bring down the house, I mean I want to see underpants flying in the air.

Park City c'ont.

I failed to mention a few important key points from our Park City vacation.  First and foremost, Chris partially tore his MCL.... at least that is the diagnosis we came up with.  The one day we had to ski, Chris and I hit the slopes first thing at The Canyons Resort.  Basked in sunshine and a 100" base, the morning runs with the rest of the Cikanek/Miller posse we awesome.  Charlie, Lonnie, Dave, Nate, Matt, Chris and myself were having a blast trying to fit in as many runs as possible before our 1 PM departure time.

Chris was cruising down a fast groomer, hit a small rut, shifted his weight to turn out and suddenly heard a "POP."  As soon as he got down to the lift Chris was ready to leave immediately.  I felt terrible for him-- we were having so much fun.  On the way back to the hotel we stopped at Wal-Mart and picked up a hinged knee brace.  So a piece of spandex,  little ibuprofen and a few Captain and Cokes made the wedding an enjoyable (pain free) experience for the Willis-Monfortons.

Secondly, I no longer belong on double black diamond ski runs.  As the group formed to ski for the morning, Nate was insistent on heading up to the very top of The Canyons (Lift Nine Ninety).  Fairly confident in my ability to ski well and get down from pretty much anything, I thought we would be playing in some fairly deeper snow in a wide open steep.  NOT THE CASE.  Trees and moguls made up this part of the mountain, both things skiers should avoid (sorry Jonny Moseley).


Long story short, I pretty much rolled down the first 300 feet of the run while the rest of the guys cruised down without a hitch.  Chris had to wait for me; it was so embarassing.  Either I have to get my head outta my ass when it comes to improving my technique, or just avoid challenging terrain all together.


The most important piece of the Park City puzzle involves a legend by the name of Charlie Goes.  I will sum up Charlie's legendary status with two words: Dance Off.  Enough said.

Shortcakes and Worm

It's been awhile since blogging; lots going on with little time to vent/story tell/make fun of others.

Chris and I took Friday off of work and flew to Salt Lake City for the nuptial awesomeness of Nate Cikanek and Susanne Miller, a.k.a Shortcakes and Worm.  Their wedding was held in Park City, a mere 30 miles from SLC. 

Tucked away from the "big city" Park City is situtated amidst three large ski resorts: Deer Valley, Park City Mountain Resort and The Canyons.  All.  Awesome.  Not that "mountain habitants" aren't cool enough, there was a plethora of cute dogs, Mountainsmith fanny packs and kick-ass "goggle tans."  I love all things ski resort.





The ONLY downside to embracing a quick weekend in a mountain town is the ridiculous vernacular spoken between townies.  The terms "nar," "sick," and "no worries" have NO place in my vocabulary.  Just because you get to hit the slopes once or twice a week does not give anyone permission to talk like an idiot.  Perfectly acceptable mountain speak includes such phrases as burrito, chapstick and Bela Fleck and the Flecktones.

Onto the wedding details.......  Nate and Susie's wedding ceremony was at St. Mary's Old Town Chapel in downtown Park City.  Nestled into a hill, the quaint church was perfectly blanketed with icicles and snow.  In a perfect location to say "I Do," their service was exceptionally romantic, intimate and memorable.  Father Jim ripped off a hilarious homily and managed to drive home the message of "you get no breaks in marriage, so make the proper choices everyday to support your union."

The reception was hosted at the Park City Mountain Resort in the Legacy Lodge.  Arriving before the bride and groom, all guests of the wedding were able to grab a quick snack and a dank beer before witnessing probably the most authentic entrance in wedding history.  Moments later, Nate and Susanne rode down the mountain, decked in their wedding garb, while we cheered them on.  AWESOME.

The night was highlighted by great food, stellar ambience and sweet dance moves.  Note to self: Zumba class DOES COUNT as dance lessons.

The Ejector Pit

Good riddance.  Chris and I are officially "out" of the old house, a.k.a. The Ejector Pit.  We did the finally walk through last night and received our security deposit this afternoon.  Looking back, we must have been smoking copious amounts of crack and/or speedballing in thinking our move there was a wise one.  Onto bigger and brighter pastures I suppose.


I came home from work today to find our entryway free of tile.  Chris got home early so he opted to do some light demo; six layers of flooring later, we have hit subfloor.  Dear Lord in Heaven, why do people place flooring over flooring over flooring and think its a Holmes on Homes style manuever?  WTF.


I want to know where I can find a pair of overalls like that guy...... oh wait a minute.... Mike Holmes has his OWN line of overalls.