Aqua Palooza Meets the Redneck Yacht Club

This weekend, I traveled back to Virginia for the second annual Aqua Palooza at Fairview Beach on the Potomac. It... was... awesome.

I flew out of Denver at 1am on Friday morning. I was in a middle seat- lucky me- and it was kind of a long night as I think I only slept for about an hour and a half all night total. Brief layover in Atlanta, and then I got into DC around 9am. What a night!

When I got into town, my friend Rich met me at the airport and we headed down south to Fredericksburg, my old stompin grounds, pre-Denver. We spent the day just hanging out, really. We did lunch at this super cool new renovated restaurant, cruised around in his Wrangler with the top down and the 90 degree sun beating down, and then went to the Rappahannock River to chill for a while. We hopped from rock to rock until we reached a large rock patch in the middle of the river (not hard, since the water level is way down this year) and laid out in the sun. Very nice, very relaxing. Then we went to dinner and drinks with my best, Kelly, and her husband DJ and her daughter Kaelyn and the boyfriend.

Saturday the entire day was spend at Fairview Beach. No lie, there must have been a thousand boats out there, and three times that many people. A giant barge was built out on the river where the bands played all day. Taylor Swift opened at one, followed by Southern Rain, and then three or four other local bands. It was awesome. So we laid out in the sun all day, drank a lot of beer, and listened to great country and southern rock music. It was perfect.

Then we did dinner at the Pirate's Den down the beach and ate a ton of seafood. It was so freakin good... everything was Old Bay-licious, which I love, and I ate lots of hushpuppies too. Then, Sea Ray sponsored the fireworks show which was like no other fireworks show I have ever seen. The fireworks were set off on a separate barge and they were unbelievable. After that, we went back over to the Pirate's Den to party at the outside bar. There was live music there, too, and a bonfire and beach volleyball and all sorts of craziness going on. Seriously, it was one of the most perfect days I've had.

Sunday we spent recovering from the day of insanity and eventually I had to head back to DC to catch a flight back to Denver. I did, however, manage to connect with my friends Holly and Thomas- Holly is my Alpha Phi sister and great great grandbig, so I miss her so much. She's one of my bestest. Anyway, I got to chat with them for a few minutes and then their soon two year old son, Cameron, woke up from his nap and I got to see him for a few minutes. He now says "hi" on the phone when I call, and he is running and playing and laughing... and TALL. He has most definitely gotten Thomas's height. What a precious little man. It's always tough to leave Fredericksubrg, and from time to time I do wonder whether I should be trying to go back to the east coast. For now, though, I love my job. And I love my place here. And I love the people I work with, and I'm comfortable. So I'll be staying put. It's just hard to be so far away. I never would have imagined I'd go this far.

Anyways, check out the pics. The first few are of the Rappahannock River, and oen of me and Rich laying on a rock in the river. One of me and Kelly at Cheeseburger in Paradise, in which I look like ass. Bear in mind I had been laying out on the river all day, AND did not sleep the night before on the plane. So I look half dead. Anyway, the rest of the pictures are of the boats at Aqua Palooza. Honestly, there was so much going on I wasn't able to capture it in full, but very cool nonetheless. And a picture of Rich with Koda, my favorite German Shepherd ever. Feel free to check out www.aquapalooza.com for 2007 pictures soon!

Reptilian Mayhem.

At the ripe old age of 24 and 11 months, I have had to come to terms with a new phobia of mine: Snakes. Snakes of all types, colors, varieties. Why, you may ask, would I have this newfound phobia? Good question. If you figure it out, let me know.

I go way back, with my relationship with snakes. As a child, I was actually quite fond of all critters. We used to traipse through the Bluemont woods (my old stomping grounds) at all times of the year- in the winter, clad in sweats and boots and scarves, and in the summer, in flipflops and tank tops. We splashed in the creek and really owned those woods- we ran circles and carved paths, oblivious and indifferent to the fact that snake holes surrounded us and on occassion, we were able to lay our hands on an old, shed snakeskin. Invariably, they were among us, and we were not phased. In fact, a day where were able to spot a real, skin-clad, moving, breathing snake was one of the best days- it gave us something to talk about! (There wasn't much else where we came from.)

I can remember my dad running over grass snakes with the lawnmower (usually inadvertently), and my neighbor Randy finding a black snake in his yard, which he held up for we kids to touch. We stroked its scales and oohed and aahed, captivated by the mere idea that a serpent was dwelling on our quiet, cozy street in rural Virginia. I can remember my friend Ryan stepping on a copperhead one fall evening, in the darkness of her backyard, which her father brought to its demise shortly thereafter. One summer day as I swam in Smith Mountain Lake with my family, a water moccassin swam up on us. My mother, in a panicked frenzy, herded my sister and me out of the water to safety on the deck of the boat, while my father calmly treaded water and the snake swam right past him, without so much as glancing in his direction. Clearly, his destination was the coast on the other side of the lake, and we were not about to get in his way. At 16, I got out of my car for a tennis match to see that there was a black snake hanging from my car, right next to the tire. He clearly had crawled up into the engine of the car and by the grace of God (I guess, for him, it was by the grace... I could have lived without the surprise), he held on for the entire ride. My tennis coach, Dick, knocked him down from underneath my car and cut his head off with the sharp edge of his Prince tennis racket. It was a tad bloody and gusty, but with all of the small children around the pool we couldn't take the chance of letting him slime his way around the club. So as you see, snakes didn't rank high on my list of fears as a child. If not for the fact that I wasn't a huge fan of bite wounds- a hospital trip would truly detract from my playtime- I probably would have adopted one as a pet.

So when I read a story on CNN a month or so ago about some sick fuck in Arizona who recently fed a puppy to his pet boa constrictor (and is now facing animal cruelty charges), I was mortified. Did I mention he also let two fifteen year old boys watch this, like for recreation? Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a huge dog person. Love them. In fact, to be perfectly honest, I would venture to say that I like dogs more than I like most people. So this story hurt me. Seriously, like a kick in the gut, a knife in the heart, and a serious twige in the gag reflex kind of hurt. And for whatever reason, I was truly phased. I couldn't get the imagery out of my mind that the poor puppy must have squirmed and cried and yelped as he met his demise, and just the general disgust of the act of the snake ingesting the puppy. I realize we can't blame the snake here- after all, it's a boa. This is how they eat and obtain nourishment, and consequently survive in order to produce more boas... ugh. And so ultimately, my irrational fear should be surrounding the sicko who thought this was a great idea for nutritional supplement for his pet boa. But no, the fear is displaced, and consequently I am terrified about the possibility of coming into contact with a boa. (Slim to none, by the way.)

A few days ago, a chihuahua in northern Colorado saved a one year old boy by taking a bite from a rattlesnake. The chihuahua lived, by the way, which is the good news, in addition to the fact that the one year old child emerged unscathed. The bad news is, I now have confirmation that there are, indeed, rattlesnakes in Colorado. Holy shit. I may need to move.

So anyway, last night I had yet another disturbing Animal Kingdom style dream. Actually, this was more like Crocodile Hunter gone bad, but I digress. So in this dream, I am with my baby sister in the yard where we both grew up, on Clair Ct. (Well, truth, we both grew up in the house on the lot, not literally in the yard. We did spend countless summer evenings locked out of the house between 1986 and 1994, when my mother was fed up with us, so a large chunk of our development was spend in the yard.) Anyway, to make a long story short, I was cornered by a fierce looking boa constrictor who was neon orange and had cobra abilities- as in, he stood up and stared me down, with an evil face, and I just kept thinking, holy shit, first he ate my puppy, now he's going to eat me. He even opened his jaw and did that disjointed jaw thing, as I imagine must have happened with the poor sweet puppy, and there was some hissing and a forked tongue. Sweet.

And I woke up sweating.

The animal dreams must cease. Immediately. It's getting out of control. I can't even lay in my bed in the dark tonight without thinking, shit... there coudl be a boa at the end of my bed who is going to start eating me, from the foot up. (Remember that Shel Silverstein poem from "Where the Sidewalk Ends" when we were kids? I believe it was called "I'm Being Eaten by a Boa Constrictor".) That poem, read so many times by silly third graders who giggle endlessly and find great humor in the situation, now has new meaning for me. Shel Silverstein, this is not a laughing matter. You will NOT be invited to write the eulogy at my funeral.

In the event that a snake leads to my demise, please enforce my wishes. No poetry of any kind at my funeral services. Puppies, yes. Country music, absolutely. Perhaps even a haiku or sonnet of some sort, and if we truly need scaled beings, a lizard or two. But absolutely, under no circumstances, Shel Silverstein or a snake-like animal in my memory.

This is Amy, signing off... hopefully for a long evening of dreams about teddy bears and cotton candy. Wish me luck.

Meet Maggie and Vance!

Meet Maggie and Vance, the brand new set of Fall 2007 interns for CAMPUSPEAK. Maggie just graduated from Southern Miss and is a proud Delta Gamma sister; Vance is a student at Iowa State and he's a Sigma Phi Epsilon. They both completely rock and we're so excited to have them on board.

Maggie has already taught me a great deal about the culture of Snoop Dogg and Southern Miss pride and history. Vance continues to educate me on the value of hair product and the sass-factor. Things are looking good for the coming semester and lots of fun times ahead!

Lions, and Tigers, and Flesh Eating Dolphins, oh my!

I had a not-so-fabulous day that included the alternator of my car dying, and an unexpected expense yet to be determined, of over $200. Quite frankly, if I just had that kind of money laying around right now, there are several things it would be spent on. At any rate, it's a stretch, but I gotta have wheels... so I sucked it up. And came home cranky as hell, which is why I didn't feel guilty about taking a mid-afternoon nap.

So I just woke up from my nice Friday afternoon siesta, and as I pulled myself out of the post-nap fog I was hit with a harsh realization: I had a dream that I was bitten by a dolphin.

This was particularly upsetting to me, because I have always been quite the dolphin fan. I consider myself to be quite fishlike, given my childhood spend in the water. I am a much better swimmer than I am walker, and I nearly have gills. My sister and I had a string of fish in elementary school, one of whom I'm fairly certain I named... you guessed it... Dolphin. (I was quite original.) In fifth grade, which was about 1994, I was part of the large dolphin movement where we all purchased pictures, jewelry, candles, and notebooks with the dolphin theme. I think it was in large part started up by the fabulous Lisa Frank, but I was very into it. In sixth grade, I decided that I wanted to be a marine biologist one day, a plan that was eventually terminated due in large part to my inability to do better than a C in high school biology and chemistry, and the fact that at the time I was completely unwilling to live on the coast, anywhere, because it would put me outside a two hour radius from my mom. (It was cancelled out by my newfound plans to become either a tennis instructor or a comedian, neither of which panned out... it's been a long road.)

Then, in college, my sorority sister Deedee wrote my themesong, to the tune of "Flipper". Hours were spent in the James Madison Alpha Phi house song writing- I'm pretty surprised Deedee isn't working for Nick at Nite writing themesongs at this point... I'm pretty sure that Green Acres and Laverne and Shirley would be hit TV shows, if Deedee was on the staff. Granted, the lyrics weren't particularly flattering- "They call her A. Butt, faster than lightning..." But it was a catchy tune and we spent hours of our senior year laying on Deedee's bed, singing for whomever may have been listening (tough luck for the Tri Sigs next door) and laughing. Ah, those were the days, and my affinity for dolphins lived on.

Now you can imagine the horror I felt when I realized that I have a newfound fear of dolphins. In my dream, my sister and I were splashing and swimming around a river of some sort- I would imagine the Potomac- when we started to feel some small whirlpool motion in the water. I glanced down to see a fish swim by, which I was not particularly alarmed by, as I've often felt the slime of fish skirt against my leg. But this time, the fish turned his head to my ankle, opened his jaws, and chomped down on my foot, right up next to my toenail. Ouch!

Then, as if he hadn't just sunk his teeth into my foot, he surfaced, looked at me, and bobbing up in down in the water, he made his little dolphin bark. It was cute, and evidently I had forgotten in the mere course of seconds, that the dolphin had just taken a chunk out of my toe. And naturally, as I reached up to stroke his long bottlenose, surprise! He chomped down on my forearm. At which point, my slow-learner instinct faded, and I freaked out and swam away at mach 10. Great dream.

Upon doing a little research, dreammoods.com says that dolphins in dreams represent spiritual guidance, instincts, and emotional trust. What do you think this particular instance means? Getting a chunk of flesh taken out of my arm is one hell of a spiritual guidance. OR.. my instincts and emotional intellect (or lack thereof?) are kicking my ass? 'Dolphins represent your willingness and ability to explore and navigate through your emotions.' Nothing about this sounds good. I looked up "bites", as well, and being bitten in a dream represents vulnerability surrounding my unresolved issues and emotions.

And so, I shall venture downtown for a few Friday night drinks, and aim to return home tonight for a night of deep, buzz-induced sleep, free of all disturbing images. I just can't take the chance of having my favorite things- clearly, dolphins- tainted by my own subconscious mental activity.

Happy Trails...

My buddy Dan Kennedy, former CAMPUSPEAK cohort, is departing Denver on Monday. He has taken a job at Barton College in North Carolina as a Greek Life guru/Orientation director. Way to go, Dan- sounds like an awesome job and North Carolina is lucky to have you! Wishing Dan a safe trip and a smooth transition. Don't lie- you've totally missed the east coast humidity... ;)

In honor of Dan's departure, we attended a little fiesta downtown last weekend, at FaDo's. It was great to see Dan one last time before he blasts out of here, and it was a beautiful night so sitting on the patio drinking wine was the perfect activity for the evening. See photos of myself, Shannon (my former roommate/co-intern), and Erin Weed and her husband Peter (friends who just moved to Colorado); and newlyweds Darren (our marketing mastermind) and Laura. Holla at Weed and Peter for letting me crash out at their house that night, and letting me cuddle their precious pug Zoe. She's my favorite. :)

Longest Summer Sunday 2K7

Long time since my last post, primariy due to the fact that I haven't hooked up internet in the new apartment just yet. I am, however, settled in for the most part, which is nice. I haven't felt truly settled in my living space in almost a year now, so it's a nice feeling.

A lot has gone on in the past few weeks, though. Darci and Alex finished up their internships with CAMPUSPEAK, and so we've all gone our separate ways. Alex is off to grad school in Illinois and Darci stayed in Denver in hopes of finding a job soon. I'm still at CAMPUSPEAK, of course, and really enjoying it. I stay pretty freakin busy, which is a good thing. We brought in two new interns about two weeks ago: Maggie is the Lectures intern, and she just graduated from Southern Miss. Vance is our P&R intern, and he's a student at Iowa State. Another new addition to the office is Christopher, who will direct the Lectures Division. He's brilliant and has exceptional fashion sense and God bless him, a stellar list of Itunes to contribute to the work environment, so all is well.

About two weeks ago, I ventured home to Virginia for a few days. It was truly a great trip. I spent the first two days in Fredericksburg, catching up with old friends I hadn't seen in a while. I got some time in with Rich, which was fun, and even managed a girls' night with my two best, Kelly and Holly. It was wonderful- I really miss my girls from home. That's the one really empty spot in CO, is not having them nearby. Holly's baby, Cameron, is growing so quickly, as are Kelly's girls, and I hate feeling like I'm missing it all. Anyway, after that portion of the trip it was home to the Butler house in Forest for our annual extravaganza.

My dad pairs up every year with a couple of other friends of our family to throw this "Longest Summer Sunday" party. (It's always held on the longest Sunday of the year, hence the title.) Anyways, it's a major production. Our backyard slopes down to this flat area in the back, where my dad's garage for the remodeling of his cars is, with a big long concrete drive in front of it. Anyway, every year he hires his two favorite bands (Carolina beach bands, Band of Oz and Seacruz), buys an obscene amount of beer, and we get a pizza truck and just chill in the backyard all day, eating, drinking, and dancing with oh, say 300 of our closest friends. He pitches the tent (where the band plays) about a week in advance and we start sitting under it, drinking, like three days before the party even starts. It's very fun, and within an hour of my arrival my dad had thrust a cold beer into my hand, and my mother had supplied me with a giant glass of Sangria, so you can imagine the great time. The morning of the party, it's Bloody Marys for breakfast, beer for a midmorning snack, and then we just chill and dance till the pizza truck gets there. All of Dad's Corvette club friends come over and park their cars in the front yard, to give it the very 60s feel, and the party is off. It's truly a major event in the Butler family- perhaps bigger than Christmas- and always a great time. Nice chance to catch up, get my baby sister a little tipsy, and dance barefoot until the sun goes down.

My Aunt Terry and Uncle Curt came in from Columbus, OH for the event, so we got some good family time in. It is so nice to see family, since it only happens about twice a year these days.

See photos and bear in mind that for this event, we start drinking on Saturday morning. The bands show up to get set up around noon on Sunday. So cut us a little slack if we look a bit on the side of inebriated. Photos include my parents' front yard with the totally random signs, as if anyone could actually miss my house, what with the Corvettes and the massive speakers in the backyard. Can we say noise violation??; my mom with her brother, my Uncle Curt; my dad making an announcement under the band's tent; my mom and dad dancing (or "shagging". as they put it in sweet North Carolina, and at the sweet shag lessons my parents attend weekly; my sister being placed in the overwhelmingly awkward position of having a mic thrust in her face during "It's Raining Men", or some other fairly uncomfortable song; and me with Jake, my high school boyfriend. Such a complete stud- and yet, a really sweet guy- and it was great to see him. We were a little drunkish and quite sweaty- we had just been rockin the dance floor in sweet Virginia humidity. I dig him, and quite frankly, my dad LOVES him, cause Jake is a car man. Holla, Jake, cause I know you read the blog from time to time. ;)

Ah, Forest, VA. What a great place to live. And here's to next summer, the 5th? annual Longest Summer Sunday? And yes, my dad is already counting down.