Slip Slidin' Away: Fourth of July Aspen style

SINCE THE DAY WE MET, RYAN HAD BEEN HYPING UP his annual Fourth of July Slip n' Slide party, and let me be the first to tell you it did not disappoint. I'd say it's up there with jumping on a trampoline or pedaling a pink cruiser bike in terms of good old fashioned innocent fun. You simply can not be unhappy when you are slippin and slidin', especially on this industrial-strength, modified-for-adults, extra-long, double-wide slip n' slide. 

Jason and Ryan, slipping, sliding and chugging ...

 In addition to good food and kegs o' beer, there was plenty of slippin' and slidin', including the "human luge" and the ol' topless trick wherein a guy holds the girl's bikini strap as she takes off down the hill, rendering her topless. the most shocking part of it was that ryan warned me of this in advance, and it still happened to me. With Ryan there is no shortage of fun!

The host with the most, all lubed up (oh calm down, it's just dish soap) and ready to throw down ....

Thanks, Ryan for a great time. See you all next year!

Feeling Fine at Food & Wine 09

"Hosea is really stressed out and he's not taking any more interviews today. You'll have to wait until tomorrow," the PR Witch Lady said. She wore black rimmed glasses and had short spiky black hair and narrow eyes and she didn't like me from go.

"Do you have a problem?" she asked, giving me a look like she was trying to light me on fire with her eyes.

"Nope, it's all good. No worries," I said, doing my best hey-NYC-bitch-mellowthefuckout accent.

I was in a mild panic waiting for the interview, since my story, which I was writing for the Boulder Daily Camera, was entirely focused on Boulder homeboy Hosea Rosenberg, the winner of this season's Top Chef.

Never have I been so nervous in anticipation of an interview, and I couldn't figure out why. I'd interviewed celebrities much bigger. I've been face-to-face with the likes of Heidi Klum and Seal, Mariah Carey and Barry Bonds, who let me tell you, is one intimidating motherfucker. So what was my problem?

The night before our original meeting time (The Wicked Witch of the East put the kibosh on that one), I couldn't sleep. I had nightmares that I was stuck in Steamboat and no one would help me get in touch with the right person to get the message that I'd be late, and to make matters worse, my tongue swelled up.

The next day my nightmare became a reality when I couldn't remember if I was supposed to meet Hosea in the media tent, or the media room inside the St. Regis Hotel? Now sweating, i ran back and forth between the two venues only to get shut down by the City Bitch on Wheels. So I had a beer, and had a few words with Hosea, who seemed as down to Earth as I'd expected him to be. What, with him being a Colorado boy and all. What, with him not being from NYC, and therefore not having any stick up his you-know-what that should be removed.

Sunday at around 1 pm I showed up at the location where Ms. Cat Claw told me to go and when I arrived there the guys with all the television equipment said, "Hosea just left."

So I called her, now in a more-than-mild panic and learned they were across the street. She could see me from where she was standing, and I had the distinct feeling she'd been watching me all the while, cackling to herself and making jokes to her friends at my expense.

I tried to be extra nice. "So, are you happy it's almost over?" I asked.

"Not at all. It's been a faaabulous weekend," she said, not looking my way. Her enormous Louis Vuitton bag sat open on the bench, and when I asked the girl sitting next to it to shove over so I could sit down, Ol' Evil Eyes did not bother to remove it. I decided to stop pretending I didn't hate her since she made her feelings about me pretty damn clear as well.

When I finally got my shot with the interview, Hosea was exactly how I'd expected him to be, cool but not aloof, confident but not cocky, and very very cute. That's when I realized what I might have been nervous about. Like the old saying goes, it's all about the dimples.

(and the boob -- a little shot of me, and my various body parts, trying to calm my nerves with a little help from Stella Artois, which was definitely the best wine I tasted all weekend).

Popped by the Poop Police

In Aspen, they really don't take any shit.

In fact, if your dog is to deposit some when you're not looking and you don't pick it up, it's a $100 fine.

Dog off leash? Another 100 bucks.

God forbid you have two dogs off leash and one pile of shit you're looking at $300.

Pitkin County Park Ranger John Armstrong informed me of all this yesterday when I went on a run to clear my head and came home even more broke and upset than I was when I left. He casually rode up to me as I was running and introduced himself with -- no pun intended -- a real shit-eating grin that conveyed to me he really enjoys busting people on the job.

"Your dog just took an enormous shit back there," he said, making me wonder what a public official who uses this kind of language is capable of. "A dog that big leaves a very large deposit."

"No shit," I wanted to say, but didn't.

I won't deny the crime.  I was running with 180 pounds of dog between George, a German Shepard, and Psycho Paws, my chow-lab mix. I decided to let them off the leash when I saw the trail was empty and both dogs needed a good run after being cooped up in the house all day. I didn't see George "take an enormous shit" because he was behind me and both dogs had already relieved themselves somewhere near Art in the Park, so I wasn't expecting it. Yes, big dogs take big shits. Apparently this big dog took two, only one of which I cleaned up.

"Do you have any bags on you?" Shit Boy asked, growing taller and towering over me with saliva hanging from his jowls. 

"No, because I already used them both," I explained, looking away. He had really big teeth.

"That's a crime," he said, like he had just caught me smoking crack under the Stein Bridge.

I understand people are upset, and rightly so, about the amount of dog shit that is left on our bike paths and hiking trails on a daily basis. Believe me, as the owner of a psychotic dog, I understand the need for leashes. My rationalization yesterday was IT'S OFF SEASON. there is NO ONE around. and everyone who is out on the trail is thinking the same thing I am because EVERYONE I saw had their dogs off leash, only to be saved by me from what is an exorbident fine.

I mean, I CRIED when he told me the ticket would be 100 bucks. I told him I can't afford that, and I can't. I told him I would do community service and spend a day picking up poop if I had to.

He just stood there and smiled a sinister smile, licking his chops like he was going to eat me for lunch. I kept waiting for him to go, "you know, there is a way we can settle this if you want to step behind that tree over there ..." 

I'm sorry but I think 100 dollars is an insane amount of money to be fined for having a dog off leash during off-season. The poop thing I can understand being a crime, but the punishment seems a little high. I guess they have to charge that much to pay the Shit Cop, but come on. Even in North San Diego County, an area with a much higher population density, dogs were allowed off leash on certain beaches. What's the point of living in a beautiful place like Aspen if our dogs have to be chained to us like zoo animals? It seems like the Rio Grande trail should allow dogs off leash for at least part of the trail, maybe from Cemetary Lane, where the traffic isn't as bad. Or maybe there should be dates when leash laws don't have to be in effect, like in April and May when -- let's face it -- everyone who's out there already knows each other anyway.

That's why it was especially embarrassing when two women I know from yoga walked by as I was waiting to be cuffed and tied to Poop Man's mountain bike with something, like maybe a leash.

They're both my students and very sweet people.

"We can vouch for her that's she's poor," they said.

What's even crazier is Dump Man let them go and held me there like I had just murdered a child. I'm surprised he didn't throw handcuffs on me and smash my face into a tree.

I ran for well over an hour figuring I might as well get my money's worth. I kept running and running hoping I could run until I wasn't mad anymore but I kept seeing the Shit Cop every five minutes, pedaling up and down his beloved territory like he might drop drawers, lift a leg, and mark it himself. 

Every single person I passed had their dogs off the leash. When I told them Crap Boy was handing out tickets, they thanked me and leashed their dogs. I probably saved the good dog owners of Aspen over $1000 that day.

I mean, even the Parking Nazis give you a warning the first time around. And even though there are signs posted all along the trail, nowhere does it say 100 DOLLAR FINE with a list of various violations including dog dumpage, leash offage, and no carrying bag-baggage.

If it did, most people would likely take their dogs somewhere where the dogs and their people can enjoy a nice walk without having to face law enforcement for taking a little liberty with their freedom during off season when there is plenty of space to share.

It's too bad the City or the County has invested so much money into making the Rio Grande trail the beautiful, magical place it once was. 

See you on Smuggler,

Princess

Desperate times call for ...

I had a disturbing call this morning regarding rumors of The Aspen Times demise.

It hadn't even occurred to me that my column might be at stake, but if it is, I'm totally screwed. Thing is, I haven't figured out how to make any money at this. My career has always been really fortunate in the sense that one opportunity sort of lead to the next, but that's all but come to a grinding halt. Well, maybe it wasn't that abrupt. I think I started to lose it when I went off to Bikram Yoga Teacher training two years ago. While it brought so many other aspects of my life into balance, my career suffered. Not because of the yoga, but because I let it go for those nine weeks and was never able to get it back.

That's when the Denver Post cut my column and my editor left The New York Times and was replaced by a wonderful travel writer/reporter named Denny Lee who is simply a better writer than I am. The two stories I've written since he took over required more editing than either of us would have liked, which is always a sign that it's not working. The writer/editor relationship is an intimate one, and just like sex, if the chemistry isn't there, there's not much you can do to fix it. Denny's awesome and he always responds when I contact him, but I've also seen a lot of the ideas I pitched that got shot down show up in the paper written by someone else. It's a competitive market and maybe i just didn't make the cut. At least I have the clips I have in my portfolio, and that's worth a lot.

Where I'm stuck is not having anything on the horizon work-wise and not knowing which connection to point my boat. I have little things here and there. I'm doing some copy writing for Melange Collection, an Aspen based fair trade company that imports hand-crafted goods from all over the world. I'm also ghost writing a kid's cookbook for my friend Shael Berni from Kiddie Cookers which I'm really excited about since cooking is one of my passions and I have always dreamed of writing a children's books.

Other than that, I don't know. The evolution of new media (Facebook and Twitter) terrifies me because it compresses the written word into these tiny little boxes and gives everyone and anyone the ability to publish anything anytime. While I see the value in networking, I also think everyone is so inundated with communications all day long that the time they're willing to devote to read something or write something is limited more than ever before.

Compared to the 162 character limit of Twitter, for example, this blog is a novel by comparison. I also wonder if the voyeuristic/narcissistic nature of Facebook (look at me! let's look at pictures of him! did he take pictures of her?) has people so hooked because it taps into these primal instincts that have completely severed any intelligent discourse and turned it into this bizarre communication intercourse.... as if Aspen wasn't incestuous enough in the first place!

I was hoping I could turn this blog into something more valuable than a home for my archives and my ramblings, maybe turn it into an online source for all things Aspen. The reviews section was my biggest hope for this but NO ONE has added anything to it. I thought it would be a great way for people in Aspen to share their thoughts, feelings and opinions on businesses in this town that don't really have any accountability when it comes to being reviewed.

Most of all I just want to hear your thoughts, so bring it on! Leave a comment, send me an email, visit me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter ... I just want to be there for you!

Love,

Princessox

Sit on my Facebook: Part 2

So its been just over a week since I jumped on the Facebook train and already I kind of hate it.

I see the value in it. i get it that it makes it easier to keep in touch and share photos and other media, especially with people far away.

But here's what I don't like.

1) It makes it a little too easy. So now you're spending all this time corresponding with people who probably are no longer in your life for a reason.

2) It counts how many friends you have. I mean, think about it. How wack is that? I'll admit I get a little jealous when I see people who have close to 500 friends and I haven't even broken three figures yet. And here, all this time I thought I was so popular!

3) It brings out the OCD in all of us. I mean, I don't know if it's like a giant Pavlov's dog-type experiment, but I seriously start drooling every time I see that little red Notification icon come up.

4) I sent my boyfriend from college a friend request and he ignored it. Buddy, don't flatter yourself! Your wife can have you! 

5) One day I had 86 Fans on my Princess page and the next day I had 85 which means my Facebook antics are bad enough to actually drive someone away.

6) On the flip side it's hard enough to avoid people in real life, but now I have to do it electronically. Just the other day I literally almost threw up when my ex-boyfriend's photo came up in the "People You May Know" box. Gross!

7) I've dedicated my whole life to filling the blank page, and now it's all about writing in these tiny little boxes.

8) Your whole identity is summed up in a 1" x 1" photo which is amusing when you consider everyone's Profile Photo falls into one of the following categories: The Sporty Photo (Look at me! I can ski/surf/snowboard!). The Mom Photo (Look at my babies! Kids! Pregnant belly!) The Relationship Photo (Look how attached we are! We can actually fit both our faces into this tiny little box!) The Sexy Cropped Photo (Look at me in my high heels! At pole dancing class!) and The I'm Too Cool for a Photo Photo (in which some bizarre graphic is used in lieu of an actual picture).

9) Now that your life is on display, you better make sure that it looks cool. That means posting party photos/travel photos/happy photos/photos from the past and most importantly, photos that make you look a whole hell of a lot cooler than you really are.

10) It's totally addicting. Now that I've taken one hit off the Crackbook pipe, I can't get off.