…beyond nice.

Ah, time, where do you go?

There are so many things that I love and so little time for everything. Take blogging for example, aside from exercising my narcissism, I love it because I really do enjoy writing. I only wish I have more time for it.

Last Thursday, the day before I had to get up super early to go on my backpacking trip, was my best friend’s birthday. Brian loves booze more than just about anything else, so I can’t just scamper off without taking a good few shots with him. Hell, I can’t scamper off without getting shit-faced with him, it’s just how it’s done.

His friend, Jen, decided we should all go see this variety show at Club Heaven that night. I showed up late before I had errands to run and a condo to check out before I run off for the weekend.

When I got there, the show had being going on for a couple hours. There were people in clown meets geisha/death metal/punk rock makeup. They look pretty awesome really.

I found Brian chatting in the back. At one point, I heard the MC telling people to chant, “What’s up your ass?” I thought that was cute. Then I thought I saw a guy up there with his bare white butt cheeks facing the audience…then I thought perhaps the guy was wearing extremely pale pants. Why would anyone pull down their pants in front of a packed room? Silly me. I walked toward the front to say hi to some friends when the MC asked for another audience member. Some perky little gal ran up. We cheered. And she pulled her pants down. I stood there dumbfound for a moment. She kept bending over, so that we can see ALL her wares quite nicely. Then one of the troupe member stuck something in her ass, while the MC waves his arm to prompt the audience to shout, “WHAT’S UP YOUR ASS!!?” The girl is supposed to guess, and she gets a gift bag if she gets it right.

This was a story that I didn’t think people would believe, so I pulled out my camera and took a picture.

There were a bunch of other acts. They’re all really fun and bawdy. There was a fire dancing burlesque number that ended with three girls in pasties writhing all over each other while playing with fire. HOT!

One of the last acts I saw before we headed out, to another bar for more serious drinking, was a juggling act. They asked for audience participation from someone that loves danger and before they got a chance to pick, Jen ran up there. They asked her to scream like she’s really scared. She screamed and scared the audience with her. Then they said, “Okay, now put a dick in your mouth,” and they handed her a huge dildo.

The two jugglers threw pins back and forth and knocked it out from her mouth. In the end, Jen got to keep the dildo and a bag full of sex toy goodies for helping.

If you live in the Seattle area, and you’re interested in catching a show, I think they have one coming up soon. Check out Pure Cirkus.
We went to another bar and got shit-faced. All in all it was a great night.

I realized I haven’t posted any new hiking photos in a while, nor have I returned to our regular program of shameless bikini prancing, so I will combine those two in the next blog entry.

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A buddy of mine told me recently, “Champagne, you should stop backpacking alone, it’s too dangerous.” He said that like I didn’t know it’s unsafe for a small gal to be out in the woods alone. Wrapped in my sleeping bag, I’m sure I look like snack-size human burrito for the bears. I understand it’s not a smart thing to do…it’s just that I have grand delusions that I’m luckier than most people. That’s all.

In all seriousness, I never actually plan on backpacking alone, I solo hike a lot intentionally, but backpacking solo is usually results of friends punking-out on me. I planned a backpacking trip a month ago for this coming weekend, and asked all my backpacking buddies if they would be interested, the only person that sounded somewhat interested was the dude with the newborn baby, Fraser. Then again, Fraser could be on his own deathbed and if I mentioned some new backpack location, he would probably bounce out with a topo map and mark locations we should camp at with nearby mountains that we should climb.

Then some of my backpacking coworkers mentioned going to the Olympic Peninsula this weekend so I asked if I could join them, and they said yes. Then they got wishy-washy last week because the weather has been unforgivably crappy in Seattle. So I thought, fuck it, I’ll carry on with my own plans solo rain or shine.

On Friday, Fraser decided he couldn’t resist this trip and suddenly the entire world wants to go. Even my coworkers, that were heading elsewhere, decided to join us because I told them I had plans to go elsewhere due to the wishy-washiness…but of course extended invitations for them to join my group. So my trip went from just me, to me and 6-8 other people.

I can’t tell you how excited I am. I dragged out all my gear, hugged my ice axe and bought some crampons. My living room looks like REI threw-up all over it. It’s such a beautiful site. It brought tears to my eyes.

Ack, of course after an entire summer of failing miserably in getting my friends to go do some outdoorsy stuff, my rock climbing friends decided they were going outdoor climbing the ONE weekend I’m off backpacking. Eh, whatever. I’m going backpacking! *dances with joy* I’m going back-pac-king! *dances*

Okay, I must get back to rolling around in gear.

Edit: Watch out for sharp crampons when rolling around in gear. And how the hell does a person put those things on?

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I’ve noticed a lot of random people stumbling on this site from doing searches on “I hate Bikram” or “Bikram sucks”. This entire post is for these stragglers.

I’m going to assume for your sake that you’re not here because you want me to trash talk some dude named Bikram that I don’t personally know. I’m assuming you’re here because you’ve just gone to your first Bikram Yoga class and it’s so freaking hard/discouraging but you know it’s good for you, so you’re hoping someone else who also thinks the class sucks might have a few tips for you to survive. I’m going to start from the beginning for those that are thinking about trying this class.

What to wear? Think skimpy; go as skimpy as you are comfortable with – without being nude of course (ouch, my poor eyes, I don’t care if you’re stupid hot, some of those poses are not meant for the nude body). Most of the ladies in my class wear sports bras and shorts, the guys wear shorts or Speedos (ouch, my poor eyes for real). Keep in mind, the class will be heated to 105 degrees with 40-50% humidity. Every stitch of clothing you have on will be sopping wet by the end of class, if you enjoy the sensation of loads of sopping wet hot clothing touching your skin, by all means, go nuts. I prefer yoga pants, but one yoga instructor has told me instructors prefer students wearing shorts so that they can see if the students’ knees are locking properly. So skimping on the cloth does help in correcting poor postures. I tried wearing shorts to please them, but I got so used to using my pants legs to wipe my eyes whenever I’m about to touch my forehead to my knees that I couldn’t go without them (yes, the pant legs are soaking, but less so than my face by that time).

What to bring? Water…buy, beg, borrow, steal, whatever, make sure you have some. Mat and towel. You can rent those at some gym if you don’t want to buy them right away. Bring a towel that covers most if not all of your mat, it’s to keep you from slipping to your doom, not just to wipe your face. One of my classmates has a mat that’s made of terry cloth material, if you have one of those, you don’t really need another towel for your mat. Far as choosing the “perfect” mat goes, if your classroom is carpeted like mine, you don’t have to worry about loftiness of the mat, but if it’s hardwood, something with a bit more padding might be nice. Whatever you do, don’t buy the more expensive environmentally friendly Jute mat like I did, it smells rank to begin with – baking in your sweat with the natural fiber doesn’t make it smell like petunias. I eventually went back for a Nike mat that’s nice and light with a carry cord (I bike to class, so this is a sweet feature for me).

Where to go? Click on “Class Finder” on the left bar on this site.

How to survive? Be very hydrated before class. DO NOT go in with a hangover. I’ve done that more times than I care to admit and it makes you hate Bikram for inventing this crap, his mom for giving birth to him, yourself for drinking and your mom for raising such a lush, all at once. It sucks! Drink lots of water before class and a lot more after. If you’re a regular coffee drinker, do know that coffee dehydrates you, so drink even more water to offset that. Soda is not water.

I’ve mentioned this before in another post, but the easiest class will always be the first class of the day because in order to heat up the class properly, the instructor has to be there two hours prior, which generally doesn’t happen. The difference in temperature is HUGE. No, you might not get the “proper” Bikram Yoga experience, but if you’re still new to this, it makes the class quite a bit more enjoyable.

On days when I can’t make it to the first class, I try to show up to class at least 15 minutes prior and just lay on my mat. This allows me to adjust to the new stuffy room temperature gradually and it feels easier on my system when we do start exercising. I’ve done the running into the room at the last minute thing before, and it’s really a system shock and overload, but I’m a big heat-wuss, so some of you might not mind.

I’ve been going to class once a week for a few months now. I know once a week is not much, but it’s all I have time for between rock climbing, hiking and volunteering…and not to mention newbie self-trained vegetarian chef in the making (gourmet veggie cooking takes more time than I could ever imagine with all chopping, peeling, de-seeding and making every sauce from scratch). Still, even going just once a week, I’ve noticed a good amount of difference in flexibility and body sculpting…then again, I’m vain and I always think I look fabulous, so you shouldn’t take my word for it.

Despite having gone to more than a handful of classes, there are still days when the heat of the class would come really damned close to killing me. About two weekends ago, when I was in class with a slight hangover and a really bad crick in the neck from head banging a bit too much during a metal show the night before…I nearly blacked out every time I stood up. I would do the first set of a standing pose, start seeing black spots, lay down for the second set, get up for the next pose, rinse repeat. It was very humbling and horrible.

Then there are still days when things just don’t go well. There are days when it feels like I can’t get the poses right or the instructor is picking on me with incessant, “Champagne, raise your chin. Champagne, tuck your chin. Champagne, raise your elbow a bit higher. Champagne, make sure your heels are aligned.” Shut up! I know she’s not picking on me, but being in the heat gets a me pretty grouchy already, having someone constantly point out my bad posing does nothing to improve my disposition. Later on, when the class is over, I do look back and appreciate the good instructions.

One of my classmates recommended the book “Bikram’s Beginning Yoga Class” by Bikram Choudhury because she felt it gave her a better idea of how to do the poses properly. I got the book not too long ago, and I have to say I was a bit disappointed. It had a lot of pictures on how to do the poses correctly by people who have been practicing since before I was born. I was hoping there would be more pictures of people who couldn’t quite hit the final pose and to see what I might be able to do in early practicing to maximize the pose benefits. There is a lot of text laced with little antidotes from him that I found to be more distracting than helpful. I do find the book to be handy reference, so it’s not a complete waste of my money, it just wasn’t as helpful as I had hoped for.

So why do this? Aside from the obvious health benefits (if it doesn’t kill me first), and the promise of a more limber self…there is the simple fact that I swear clothing fits better after class. I’ve never looked better in a tank top or bikini than right after a good extra hot yoga class – well, after a good shower of course. The heat of the class will get rid of any water retention due to hormones or too much salt intake. Oh and I love love love the limber feeling right after. I ride my bike to class and usually on my way to class, I’m super tense and I fight every bump on the road which causes my teeth to rattle, after class my entire body purrs and hugs the road. Rawr!

Yes, it’s worth the pain. It really does get easier most of the time and it starts to get addictive even if you continue to hate it. Of all the love-hate relationship you can get yourself into, getting into one that is actually good for your mental and physical might not be such a terrible thing.

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Gah, I didn’t mean to leave that last depressing post up alone for so long, but we’ve got a focus test build that we need to have done by this Wednesday and holy sheesh there were new menus and AI galore that must be tweaked and polished. While our lesser known studio motto is “We make little girls cry”, making children cry because our game breaks if they try to play it at all, is not quite the flavor of awesome we seek.
On Sunday, I had my third volunteer orientation. Third. While I did wonder why the hell they had to orient a new volunteer three times, the hospital layout finally started making sense on the third day. I feel like I actually know what I will be doing when I hit my volunteer shift tonight – which is great because I work from 8 till midnight, when anyone that knows what I should be doing is gone.
This combination of milestone stress and lack of time has an odd way of turning me into Cranky McBitchyPants and smacking me around with a Rolled-Up Newspaper of Humorlessness. Hopefully things will return to our normal program of shameless prancing around in bikinis soon.
In other news, I’ve been watching this British sitcom called “Coupling”, which is like a cross between Friends and Sex in the City with endless bawdy jokes, so now every time I see girls with huge racks, I feel like chanting, “Breasts! Breasts! Breasts!”

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I had a long but very good work day. At some point tonight, a friend IM’d me and asked if I was still at work, I looked at the clock and it was almost midnight. Sheesh, last I checked it was 8. I haven’t had one of these coding until time cease to exist moments in a while, I forgot how nice it is.

It has been an interesting week so far. I had another volunteer orientation at Harborview on Wednesday. Only this time, it’s specifically for the Emergency Department Clinic (EDE) where I will be stationed at. The thing started at 1 in the afternoon which made it kind of a bad time to take half a day off work, and I’ve got vacation days to burn, so I figured…why not take my first vacation day of the year? Unfortunately, we’ve got a major deadline this week, so it’s not like I get to dance around in my underwear at home for free…no, I have to work my ass off to make up the time missed.
On Tuesday, while I was crunching away at work around 8:30 p.m., I got a phone call from a weird 888- number that I did not recognize… The first couple times I answered, there was no one on the phone, the third time I picked up, there was a recording with the worst static, like the lady was eating giant fist-full of corn flakes while doing the recording…I thought I heard something about accepting charge from some correctional facility from a friend…I accepted the charge, and my friend came on, and the static was just complete shit. It sounded like he was calling from space or a club standing next to speakers with amps that couldn’t handle the output…I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to join him at a bar or bail him out of jail…all I got from him was, “I’ll call you right back.” I waited around for about half an hour and nothing…so I peeked into his brother’s office and ask if he had gotten any weird phone calls from my friend. He told me yeah, and that he’s in jail and needed bailing out…he didn’t get too many details because he said it sounded like his brother was using a cell-phone behind a 500-foot thick cinderblock wall and they got cut off, though he did get King County Jail on $1500 bail.
The brother had gotten online and found his info. He was sitting there trying to decipher what his brother had gotten arrested for. I asked him if he was going to bail him out, he said he didn’t have the cash (keep in mind it’s close to 9 p.m. and the jailhouse will only take cash, money order or cashier’s check). I was a bit perplexed by his brother sitting there, I made a couple phone calls to raise the cash and I told the brother I’ll go get my buddy. Far as I’m concerned, I only need to know if I could afford the bail and where I go to post the bail, I could care less if my friend is wanted for manslaughter (really though, it would be a LOT more than $1500 if it’s manslaughter), if I could afford it, I’ll get him out and kick the crap out of him later if that was necessary. Of course the brother offered to come with me, but I told him I’m just going to drive around to gather the cash and the jailhouse is less than five minutes from my home, so it would be just as easy for me to go alone.
When I got to the place, it was nearly 10. The guards at the door check my bag and asked if I was visiting an inmate, I told them I was posting bail. They said, “Oh you better hurry, I think they might already be closed.” I screamed, “What? They close?” They were nice about it and didn’t thoroughly check my giant messenger bag/purse full of everything I’ve ever owned and ushered me through. I ran to the cashier booth and thank god they were open so I was able to post bail.
Let me just take out a moment to say, why the fuck do jail cashier booths close? I mean I know we’re just little Seattle and all, and our thugs aren’t so menacing as say the Long Beach crowd, but I bet our thugs will need to do a bit of thugging from time to time past bedtime. So, if they got arrest at 2 a.m. how will their bail bond agent get their crack selling ass out on-time to provide good service during peak hours?
My friend got out around midnight and he called to thank me and to tell me I’ve done more than my fair share of good deed for the year because he would have been in until August 1st if not for my bailing him. I told him, “Oh, awesome, I took tomorrow off to attend a volunteer orientation. I can just quit now and maybe spend the day at the beach instead.” What was he in for? Let’s just say, the information age caught up with him. It used to be if you committed a minor offense in one state (say…never paid off a big ticket so your license got suspended…twice), you can hop over to another state and it’s no big deal, but little by little states are networking their computer system together and sharing info…and they nab you when you get pulled over for something like expired license tab. So, I’m guessing the day any state networks with California, jailhouses get packed.  He mentioned while he was being booked, the guy gave him my number (because he forgot his cellphone) since I was listed as his emergency contact from the last time I bailed him out (don’t ask).  The officer looked at my name and said, “Her name is Champagne —!?  Is that even a real name!?”  Seriously, while some cop was booking my friend, the guy had the nerves to sass my name - granted my full name sounds like some stripper girlfriend name, but are they allowed to say that?

Wednesday, I went to the orientation - one of the gal I met at the last orientation had just gotten off her first shift. She’s with the same department I was assigned to. I asked her how it went. She replied, “Oh my god, it was a crazy day, a couple kids came in because they fell out of windows, one was four floors up. I hope they’re okay.” This day was particularly hot in Seattle and most of us don’t own air conditioners …please people, keep your toddlers away from open window if you have them. I went through my orientation which only serves to completely confuse me about the layout of the area.
Ugh…this is terrible, I just looked up the incident to link…you might not want to click on this.

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I love my coworkers because whether they’re 21 or 45, we average about 5 for mental age. We make no excuses for it either.
When I arrived at the lunch table today I noticed my teammate, Joe, was playing some game on a PSP. I remarked on how I haven’t seen one of those since forever, I didn’t even take my PSP during my move. He mentioned he bought his PSP when it first came out, I told him I did too…in fact, I pre-ordered the damned thing and got it the very day it came out. I openly mocked and shamed the ugly brick that was the old DS when we got back to work and held them side by side. Now it’s suffering the same fate as the VGCats PSP. It’s tragic really, even now, my DS Lite travels with me in my messenger bag/purse thingie every where I go - bars, clubs, bar mitzvahs.
Joe started complaining about how he wouldn’t buy the zombie game he’s playing because it had un-skippable cutscenes. We all discussed who the probable bastard that made that decision was; we decided it was either the designer or producer, with a lean on designer hell bent on feeding players their story, since they were least represented at the table.
Randomly, Joe blurted that he just put a guy in his pants.

Me: What? What are you doing putting guys in your pants?
Joe: It’s my inventory.
Me: That’s not in your pants.
Joe: Where do you think the inventory is?
Me: Joe, I think we think of the inventory as more of a bag of holding.
Joe: Which goes in my pants.
Me: Okay, Joe, everyone else gets a bag of holding, you get pants of holding.
Joe: Yeah, Pants of Holding!
Me: Joe, I’m going to guess you don’t get invited to too many LARPs.
Joe: Lightning Bolt! No, I don’t even have patience for regular RPGs.
Me: Well, I was thinking more of, ‘Hey you guys, get in my pants!’
Joe: Where there’s only room for three.

I would hate to be Joe’s torchbearer in a LARP and I wouldn’t touch any Potion of Cure Light Wounds he hands over. Joe continues to play his game, with every other person walking into the lunchroom making some comment about having not seen the PSP since forever. Watching Joe play his game, I forgot how damned good games look on the PSP, it’s really too bad the machine has such a retarded long load time. If the game load isn’t so frustrating and the battery life isn’t so non-existent, I would gladly carry my PSP over the DS despite being a DS programmer.

Why oh why, PSP? We could have had such a beautiful thing together, and it was, for the first day or two. You wooed me with your sleek-sexy looks, brilliance, and brain power but to call you a minute man would have been a compliment. Even if I could put up with your disappointingly short performance, the fact that I had to wait an eternity every time I wanted some satisfaction was too much to bear. Still, I’m happy to see you’re bringing some joy to someone’s pants.

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Egads, it’s Friday already and I seem to have survived. Maybe it’s because I didn’t have to weep quietly at my work keyboard this year on 4th of July, but hawt damned, the number of party invites was insane and much appreciated. There were 4 party invites for the night before and 7 invites for the day of. I ended up picking out a few parties that I was least likely get completely shit-faced in because I’m really starting to feel too old for these 12+ hours of being drunk in 24 hours stint.
I worked late on the 3rd and went to a birthday shindig with my girlfriend Jessica. On the 4th, I woke up unusually bright-eyed bushy tailed, so I figured I should go to a Bikram Yoga class, because it seems like a great idea to do at least one good thing for my system before I kidney-punch myself. All of Capitol Hill got the same idea because the class was packed from corner to corner, still it was a great class and everyone was so happy.
I went to Fraser’s boat party again this year and I actually got to stay around for much barbequing, drinking, shameless prancing around in bikini, and swimming.

Like last year, the day was glorious and the water was warm – two nice 4th of Julys in a row, how will Seattle deal? I left after 4-5 hours of that party to re-hydrate for the evening festivities.
When I got home, the combination of yoga, alcohol and swimming knocked me out and I woke up some hours later feeling extremely blissful but groggy and not really yearning for more hurt to the liver, but then my sister called and said she and her boyfriend were heading to my condo building for a party that was up on 6th floor…and that I should join them. Who am I to say no to a party that requires me to travel 3 floors up? The condo unit had a perfect view of Lake Union; we could even see the firework barges from there. I figured I could stay for the fireworks and then leave early to get some rest. Since plans to get some rest always work out exactly as planned, a few of us ended up drinking and chatting at my place until nearly 2.
Most of yesterday morning was a painful blur. One of my ex-coworker was visiting from Germany so my boss decided to organize a small bowling party. Since my ex-coworker will only be around for a few days and my boss seem so keen on getting us all out together, I didn’t crawl home to die after work and joined them in a game of bowling with some beer to chase the wicked hangover. I’m not a good bowler, but I bowl the way I hike - I don’t cross the starting line with an impressive bang, but I move slow and steady and outlast everyone else. I came in second in the first game at 118 beaten by 197, second in second game at 140 beaten by 150 and first in the third game at 129. I can pretty much go on forever with that kind of score average while some like my boss who slaughtered us with 197 in the first game and then plummeting to 120s for the next couple games. There were five other dudes beside myself, and we’re all game developers, so pumping that mouse fist for three games was wearing them out quick.
One of my coworkers told me he was impressed by my bowling skillz and recommended that I always suggest bowling for first dates to impress the guys. I laughed and said, “You’re right! Because that’s really all that I have going for me, a decent game of bowling.” Still, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that most guys are not impressed by my kicking their asses along with a healthy dose of sass-mouth. I vaguely remember a guy from college who had nothing but horrible things to say about me because I whooped him soundly in pool (my pool skill is about the same as my bowling, which is also slow, steady and consistent but nothing to write home about, which means if you suck, I will keep kicking your ass).
I was very happy to crawl home after the game, but then my sister’s boyfriend called and said they’re going to see Transformers in half an hour. The sucker that I am told them I was on my way. I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed that movie. About a year ago, when plots and pictures from the movie were seeping out to the public, I remember my coworkers and I were outraged because Megatron looked like an anime rapist porn bot AND they had the nerves to replace the adorable VW Bumblebee with a Camaro. Adult-children were crying all around the world because their childhood friends were about to be mauled and defaced in the name of Hollywood dollars.
The way I see this movie is like how I see the movie Constantine. Unlike snobby book readers, I’m not going tell you, “Oh, the comic book was sooo much better,” because a) it’s a freaking comic book and b) they’re not even the same thing. When I first heard that Keanu Reeves was set to play a character whose only super power is his cool, I nearly choked, but after seeing the movie on DVD recently, I realized they’re two entirely different Constantine sharing the same idea. They’re both good in their own ways.
Transformers is pretty much the same…no, it’s not the same robots from childhood, but it’s some awesome gratuitous robot-car porn.

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