Here we are

This is an official milestone. It's a little after 4 p.m., we almost didn't make it today but, here we are, Blog Post #100. I'll use it selfishly to complain about the crappy service I get at major electronics stores. I won't mention any in particular (Best Buy, Circuit City). I was looking to buy a portable DVD player this past rainy Friday night when I approached a so-called employee of one of these stores. He saw me coming and literally turned round and quickly walked away toward an employee breakroom. Unbelievable! How do you people stay in business? Beside the flashy logo and fancy commercials. Special attention to the picture above – no idea what those two are so happy about!

Justice waits for no one

Missed a court hearing I needed to cover this morning. Partly, my fault. I need to know better than show up at 8:20 a.m. for an 8:30 hearing time. But, I would have been there in plenty of time if not for the sea of humanity stretched two miles back waiting to get into the Adams County Courthouse. Arrrggggh! I assume these massive Monday morning lines have something to do with potential jurors or maybe more people are getting in touch with their bad sides. The irony? The Colorado Judicial Branch had employees outside the courthouse this morning asking folks to take a survey – querying them about their experience. "You be the judge" was their catchy slogan: "What can we do better?" As I was leaving the courthouse, thoroughly annoyed, I declined to do the survey. If you can't say anything nice, well, you know the rest!

Oh, sweet day of days

I always look forward to the month of August. It's when I get the chance to indulge one of my remaining childish vices (besides Lucky Charms). We are less than a month away from the release of Madden 08 – the wildly popular football video game that has left me addicted for nearly two decades. I've already reserved my copy and I've managed to wrangle a whole day of game playing. No easy task with a small daughter and a wife who rather I'd engage in more productive activities or at least stop playing video games like I'm 10. Nevertheless, I'm excited and the countdown is on: 20 days – yea! And no, ha, ha, there will be no dogfighting mode in this year's version or clubbing with PacMan Jones.

Open Forum

Open forum Wednesday! We'll try to make this a regular feature since we have ended reader comments on our Web site. Maybe you want to chat about David Mundy's sentence or the letter writer upset about the new Brighton unmarked police car. It's all yours, kids.

Allegations of cheating dampen Bike to Work day

Denver – Allegations of cheating have cast a pall over
last month's local Bike to Work Day celebration and brought renewed
calls for more stringent testing policies.
An estimated 23,00 bicylists hopped on their bikes for the June 27 event that encourages residents to pedal instead of using the gas pedal. But the goodwill of that day has now been steamrolled by apeloton of accusations.
"It's a shame," said Bike to Work participant Felix Taveras. "You're trying to do something positive and people ruin it."
Speculation about the overall integrity of the event began shortly after Denver lawyer Steven Goldsmith, who lives in the Cherry Hills area, made it to the office of his downtown Denver law firm in a stunning 15 minutes. Goldsmith later tested positive for a banned blood transfusion.
That was followed by a July 4 revelation that Kristi Nedke, a 16th Street Mall coffee barista, rode her bike partly to work from her apartment near Santa Fe Drive and Lowell Boulevard. A fellow biker stepped forward and alleged that he saw Nedke load her bike onto the front of an RTD bus at Speer Boulevard, near the Pepsi Center, and ride the remainder of her way to work.
"I was aghast," said Nick Taylor, who came forward with the allegation. He said he has grainy footage of Nedke stepping into the bus.
When reached for comment, Nedke angrily denied that she cheated and asked if there was any interest in her store's new compliation CD that includes previously unreleased work by Norah Jones as well as a duet between Elvis Costello and Bonnie Raitt.
The allegations prompted Gov. Bill Ritter, also a Bike to Work participant, to form a task force to examine similar speculation about cheating.
"We must ensure that residents biking to work are clean and not impugning the sanctity of this great day," he said.
Experts say it may be too little too late.
"There have always been questions about the honesty of these events," said University of Denver Social Sciences professor Dave Durbisky. "Obviously, if someone is driving to work 360 days a year, stopping every morning at McDonald's to get a sausage McMuffin and hash browns, then you question their ability to suddenly hop on a bicycle and effortlessy commute to work."
Durbisky said time will tell if the allegations curtail future participation.
"Americans are already fat and lazy," he said. "If we're asking them to participate in a grueling annual excerise where others might be cheating – that's a tough sell."

Well, I'm not looking

I'm no feminist but this just seems wrong. A guy (it could have only been a guy) has created a lawn service in Memphis where young, nubile women cut your grass in , wait-for-it, bikinis. Now, I like a woman in a bikini as much as the next guy (Oh, hi honey, sure I'll sleep on the couch tonight – thanks for reading) but this seems so wrong. Not only are we having women do a job traditionally equated with men but we're making them do it in swimwear. This would be like some woman starting a business called "Dandy Dan does it all" where men scamper around in a thong – baking casseroles and vaccuming.
"We had a couple of customers sitting in lawn chairs drink beer just enjoying the bikini cut," said the owner of Tiger Time Lawn Service.
I hope they brought plenty of beer because their wife probably changed the locks.

Hi, Uncle Martin

OK, no kidding, NASA has unveiled its astronaut outfits of the future. I wish I was making this stuff up? Apparently, unsatisifed with no visits from exterrestial lifeforms, we are now content to dress up like Martians. Seriously, if this guy drops in my backyard, somebody's getting blasted with the Ray Gun!

Tribute

What a traumatic weekend. First, can I get some mad props for the life of Tammy Fae Messner who died following a grueling interview with Larry King? Didn't he have Anna Nicole on his show too? The guy's the Grim Reaper.

As if that wasn't enough, then I found out Mindy McCready, formerly a country singer and a runner-up to Shania Twain in the "All come back now, ya here" category is in trouble with the law again. She was tussling with some sheriff's deputies down in Florida. I just want her to pull it together long enough to get back in the studio because the last few years of her life have grammy winning country album written all over them. I include a picture of her just to dote on old times, she looks like Gollum from the Lord of the Rings now. Share your favorite Mindy McCready moment below if you like. Mine was when my girlfriend, now wife, almost threw me out of the car for talking about how attractive she was. That was probably the end for Mindy, once guys like me start ogling you, there's only one way – down.

Got to see the new Harry Potter movie over the weekend, stil don't have the new book – don't spoil it for me, dorks! I was aghast when the theater made me remove my Dumbledore costume because of new security procedures. Don't worry, they were aghast when I wasn't wearing anything under it. My exclusive excerpt from the book didn't draw the hittage or FBI attention I wanted. I'll hand it to my blog readers "Dinkites" as I like to call them – you're smarter than you think. And, in case you missed it, my Fabio and the Deathly Hallows cover. Happy Monday, see you tomorrow.

Birthday tidings

Today is my wife's birthday, so I'd be remiss if I didn't send a little shout out to her. Especially since she tries to act really mature on her birthdays but she's really like a 5-year-old looking under the bed for presents. We've been together a long time (married four years and a couple for 10) and she never ceases to amaze me with her talents and abilities. My wife is amazing – a great cook, a great mom and she even does windows. She is really the glue that holds our household together, makes sure my pants match my shirt and I'm wearing the same-colored socks. This may not seem like a big deal but when you see how I tend to dress – well then, you would know. Plus, she's extremely talented at her job and I really admire her. I love you Missy, Happy Birthday!

Exclusive Deathly Hallows tidbits

OK, I shouldn't even be doing this, as both an ethical journalist and an avid reader, but I've managed to come across an excerpt from the new Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows novel – the conclusion to the Harry Potter saga. I warn you not to go forward if you don't want anything spoiled. I will also warn you as this series has gone along, it has become darker and I think really veered away from its kid audience. Read fast, before this is taken down.
Harry brushed his palm against her exposed thigh. Hermione stiffened. She picked up her cup and swallowed arduoulsy, trying to ignore the lusty sensations holding her hostage. He pressed his lips against her ear, sending a thrilling shiver along the back of her neck.
Well, that certainly didn't help.
Hermione released a small, strangled cough and cleared her throat. Then she held her breath and counted to ten, remembering that counting to ten was supposed to be good for something.
Harry reached for a piece of flatbread. He scooped a small amount of a dark orange topping from a bowl and dabbed it on top.
"Here."
Hermione reached for it but he stopped her hand and brought the bread to her mouth instead.
"Open your mouth."
"And say ah?" she jested, but as soon as the word ah left her lips, he popped the bread into her mouth. She closed her mouth with a small chortle. It tasted like peaches.
It was good.
Harry watched the even line of her jaw work as she chewed, and the sensual motion of her throat as she swallowed. Her tongue dabbed at the corner of her mouth to retrieve a stray drop of jam. His hand came up to reach behind her head, and he bent toward her.
This time she did not turn away. Hermione's belly tensed as she anticipated a kiss, but Harry dragged his tongue across the crease of her mouth, withdrew, and savored the flavor of jam and her lips with his own tongue. Hermione gasped at his intimate boldness. He smirked at the shocked look on her face.
"What?" he mocked. "Did you think I was going to kiss you?"
She was fun to tease.
Hermione's mouth fell open. She couldn't tell him that it was exactly what she thought, but before she could snap it shut he drew her mouth to his, and tasted her from the inside out.
She should have pulled back, but her tongue reacted like a hungry vulture and she plunged the depths of his mouth instead.
He responded by devouring her, exploring her with his own tongue until she sighed into his mouth and her body melted into his. Harry relished the feel of her against him as she surrendered to his seductive siege.
He ran a hand along her side and slipped it into the opening of her gown. His lips moved to kiss and suckle her neck, her shoulder, and then trail back to her mouth. His craving for her became so intense he had to fight the impulse to rip open her robe and take her right there on the bench...
I'll spare you of the part where Dobby the House Dwarf accidentally stumbles into the room.

People's Building – whatever

So in the midst of yesterday's state capitol shooting (brought to you by one of Thornton's finest – man, we look sharp in tuxedoes – the debate was renewed whether the state capitol should have folks enter the building through metal detectors. I was stunned. I figured they already did. I have to go through one at the courthouse, Wal-Mart and Taco Bell (damn, bean stealers). Why wouldn't it have metal detectors? Especially in today's day and age, where everybody is applying to a be resident and council member of Crazyville (not to be confused with Fort Lupton. Ha, ha, just a little joke, no application needed). The defense is this is the people's building. Yea. My house is my people's building but I still lock the front door! I know a dome made of gold, pure gold I tell ya (sorry, little leprechaun impersonation there) can inspire such joy and grandeur and apparently transport us back to 1876. But seriously people, let's get with the times here. Kids love airplanes but we don't put a sign on the front of the terminal "Saying "Welcome Terrorists: Pick up RPG's here." Arrrghhhh!

It's all over but the crying

Fulfilled my husbandrly (not included in the new Webster's dictionary) duty this weekend by attending a wedding. Read closely guys, it's in the vows "To have and to hold" Subsection 8000-11-55000-6978 "and to be held against your will for a time to exceed four hours while your wife is crying profusely." I've been trying to come up with why women cry so much at weddings. My wife was actually crying before the wedding began, I thought the pastor made a face at her or something. I can only conclude women cry at weddings for two reasons – they're single and depressed – or there standing next to some big oak like me who made the same cherished vows and now won't get off his butt during football season to take out the trash. If any men are crying, it's because a) they're paying for the darn thing or b) they just lost their favorite drinking buddy. I'm not a big wedding fan. I went to my own. I was there several hours early in fact. I assumed I was done. But the whole pomp and aura usually loses its meaning on me. These ideas will have to be refined before my sister gets married next year because I'm guessing she want's a better response than fashioning a noose from a garter behind the DJ. So, with the need for there still to be hope for me, I will tell you that I felt renewed at this wedding. I think the beauty of young love is captivating, I think it can warm the coldest hearts – something about that sense of unity. Yuck, I've become mushy now. Next thing you know, I'll be talking about how pretty the flowers were. And they were lovel .... Oh, no, no, I need to stop talking.

Words, words, words

Who is so excited about the news words included in the Merriam-Webster's newest dictionary? Me, me! Suduko, Crunk, Smackdown and Telenovela. My favorite one though? Ginormous. When something is so big, enormous just won't do! My only worry? Restaurants and other businesses can use this word to describe everything. That could be a ginormous problem.

Looking for trouble

Hey,
Look for me at www.metrowestfyi.com tomorrow. If things work out and, with the help of a certain hospital's highly touted WiFi, I'm hoping to live blog tomorrow's hospital move with regular updates. Should be interesting. Check it out.

Repaint, repaint and thin no more

Double blog Monday because I missed you kids so, so much or I've just had so much bloggeration forming in mind for the past five days that I needed to spew. File this
in your "so we all do put our pants on one leg at time" folder. Hope
you got to enjoy a small taste of Live Earth yesterday – mega movie
star Al Gore's idea to bring all his celebrity friends together to
bring attention to global warming. Great idea, right? Except, between
the nine world-wide concerts, there was an estimated 1,000 tons of
garbage generated. So, I'm shocked today. Because I thought
environmental heathens, like myself, who buy aerosol cans just to watch the Earth die, were the only ones who generate garbage and waste. You mean Earthians make garbage, too? No. Seriously, was this the best way to rally for the Earth? Wouldn't it have been better for Al and Madonna and Lionel Richie and Mavis Beacon to get together in his backyard, eat some leaves and talk about cooler times? The path to good intentions is paved with ... apparently ... trash.

Looking for an identity

Hey, back from a brief July 4th sabbatical, did you miss me. Did get a chance to check in on our newspaper's Web site from time to time. Always a good chance to get annoyed.
I'm normally not prone to publicy taking a stand on
the comments of our Web site readers. More often than not, I
simply shrug off their diatribes and try to refresh my
drained intellectual capcity with an old TV rerun of "Kids
Say The Darndest Things."
But there are times when the ramble that spills out
of the comments demands at least a slight rebuttal if not a
figurative hearty slap to the head. Last week was a perfect
example when one individual cited poor planning in the
location of the Platte Valley Medical Center and suggested
that the old sheriff's office property, among other prime
Brighton locations, may have been a better choice.
We can all rightfully question the state of health
care in our country right now (Michael Moore encourages you
to) but questioning the foresight of PVMC leaders in choosing
the new hospital's spot is an argument that holds about as
much water as a leaky bucket.
But it did get me thinking about the identity crisis
rife in this town right now. Obviously, this reader's opinion
that the store room of the Dairy Queen would have been as
just a good spot for the hospital as the massive expanse of
land at I-76 and Bromley is not so much about providing
Brighton quality healthcare facilities as it is about
ignoring the change happening here.
On any given day, Brighton is a town at war with
itself:
We desperately want to conceal our image as a bedroom
community of Denver but name the last piece of marketing
material that didn't tout this city's close proxmity to
Denver?
If you're a regular visitor to our Web site, you will
see a daily vial of hate directed at both Hispanics and
illegal immigrants but we're a community built on the
hardwork of immigrant farmers and migrant workers.
We want to invest millions of dollars in the revival
of our downtown area but we're building a massive retail
complex on the east side so presumably people will go there
instead.
We court growth but we loathe growth.
We support education but we'll be darned if the
school district thinks its going to squeeze another tax
dollar out of us.
Stuck in between is a population that really doesn't
know each other. We have new residents who hop on I-76 to
work every morning and don't even know there is a downtown in
need of arrival. We have some longtime residents who still
think life ends around 27th Avenue and Bridge Street. You can
see why the idea of a hospital way on the other side of town
lacks appeal to some especially when it forces
acknowledgement that this town is markedly different than it
was five years, 10 years ago, 20 years ago.
What is this community? What does it stand for? It
depends on who you talk to.
Logic would tell you that, at some point, these two
sides need to reconcile themselves so Brighton can grow and
move forward as one community.

In the rough

OK, honestly, I'm surprised I haven't heard this gripe more. But a letter writer in the Standard Blade this week questions why our farmers are starving and our golf courses are pristine. It's a legitimate question. No offense to the golf course folks, but while you're watering like crazy especially on the tee boxes (God spare the tee boxes from this cruel heat), local farmers are wringing the sweat out of their shirts just to water their crops. That's why they call it an organic crop! There's got to be a compromise. Luckily, there is. Farmers, pack up your tractors and migrant workers – we're headed to Buffalo Run. Obviously, they have plenty of water and are exempt from any type of water restrictions. We can share. And golfers, don't get bummed out, how awesome would it be to chip out of a cabbage patch (on the ninth hole). And if the migrant workers get their picking done early, who needs a caddy? This idea is so smart, there's no way it can't work!

We've got be careful

I'd be remiss if I didn't remind all you kids out there and parents too, because God forbid children are actual reading my blog, to be careful with fireworks this Fourth of July. Fireworks are not toys. And there's no reason to be confused. I don't want to hear any drivel about how they're sold in bright, kid-attracting packaging under circus tents by people dressed up like your favorite cartoon characters. I repeat – no reason for confusion (note to self: see study on Joe Camel cigarette ads) I mean seriously if we're trying to deter the use of fireworks (at least here in Colorado unlike Arkansas where you get a free package with any driver's license renewal or soda purchase) can't we make them a little less appealing? Perhaps put a blue cover around them like we do with dirty magazines so you can only see a little firework cleavage.