She's a Puker, but she's a Keeper.

Being in the mountains adds 20 pounds to you, it's true.

Since I'm short on free time these days, I'm going to tell the story of my trip to Denver in some short posts of words and photos that will most likely turn out to be non-linear. So you're going to have to roll with it Memento-style, but fortunately I know my blog readership and I believe that putting together the story is well within your skill set.

You may recall that I went to Denver to visit my friend Drew Belstock, who does not read this blog and yet I love him anyway (But he is the only one, don't get any ideas people. My love is 100% conditional, I promise.) The reason why I get on airplanes and go to strangecities in the middle of the country to visit Drew is because I know we're going to have a good time and I know he's going to take care of me when the next bullshit hassle comes up, a minimum of one of which is guaranteed to happen when we get together. (See: Minneapolis lost filling story, not my finest moment. "Do you think this is funny? Is there something funny here?" I yelled at the pharmacist before returning to the apartment Drew shared with roommates to pound on the door jambs and curse the midwest before I set about puttying up the hole in my tooth. What can I say? I was in pain.)

When I landed in Denver, one of the first things I requested was that we stop someplace where I could pick up a bottle of Emitrol, my preferred anti-nausea medication taken most widely by women with morning sickness and me.

This is my friend Drew. This is what he looks like when he's calling AAA.