Kevin's Restaurant

Raised by parents in their thirties, my movie selection growing up usually involved either Arnold Schwarzenegger or Kevin Costner (and occasionally Tom Selleck). I'll leave it up to you to decide which one of my partners liked which actor. All of which has led me at times to be completely infatuated with Kevin Costner (okay Christian Slater too).

How lucky am I that movie stars dabble in other business ventures, specifically casinos in South Dakota. Despite some ridiculous property fiasco stemming from 2004, Kevin Costner does indeed own 100% of the Midnight Star. While the bottom casino portion Diamond Lil's is flashy and pristine, the upstairs restaurant Jake's (both named after characters from the flick Silverado) contains the goods.

Excited to have taken our second detour in two days to Deadwood, I was determined to stop in at the Costner hot spot to win back the $3 I was still down from our escapades the day before. After we parked in the lone downtown car garage, I quickly figured out my silver cigarette case (aka driver's license and credit card holder) lay back in the Bismark hotel cafe... and no I do not smoke, the case was just shiny and proved very useful. Desperate for something to do sans identification, I determined a live action game of Yoostar in Jake's would pass the time well.

"This is what happens to kids who watch too many Kevin Costner films."

Confident in my Costner movie knowledge and eager to experiment with my retro pinhole polaroid camera app, we began our photoshoot somewhere between Water World and Dragonfly. Here are the pictures that resulted:

The Untouchables (which ironically enough, you could not touch). We didnt have guns, but the super hospitable server snuck a knife out of the kitchen for me to inflict bodily harm upon Teresa with. Thanks sir!

 Of course my mom's all time favorite flick For the Love of the Game (I'm pretty sure everytime she hit play on that tape, she became Kelly Preston in her mind). Unfortunately I re-enacted a baseball swing not a pitcher. Pretty sure I'll be disowned.

No Way Out definitely tested my noggin. In the end I just saluted like a good militant brat and googled the flick on my way home (btw it's a thriller about murder!). I must say though, from the size of Kevin's sweater, his stature comes in slightly smaller than I imagined.

 We passed up The Postman - even though it did garner several razzies in '97; and the poster's catch phrase included "It's the year 2013..." - and headed straight for Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. Easily the only reason I know all the words to a Brian Adams song, I should have re-created the flaming arrow shot scene, but alas, the beating of my heart distracted me.

Twitter-pated.

I mean can you really blame me? Look at how amazing/commanding that mullet is...

Have no fear! I got my act together just in time for Dances with Wolves; the film that earned a tad over 424 million dollars at the box office and snagged multiple Academy Awards and Golden Globes. For some reason though, every time I think of this movie, instead of the beautiful moving scenery of the flick, the scene from Mrs. Doubtfire pops into my head where Robin Williams is mocking his ex: "But look at you! This whole Dances with Wolves Motif. What's your Indian name? Shops-With-A-Fist?" Oh well, it makes me chuckle.

That's me saying "hi" in Native American.

 Field of Dreams, listed on AFI's "10 Top 10" list as the #6 all time best fantasy film (will AFI ever stop making lists? They're worse than my over-organized aunt who clearly has an addiction to post-its), proved that if there's any film genre Kevin Costner has the market cornered on, it's Baseball flicks. Since I'm sure the Telegraph Herald holds top spot on your reading list, you'll know the actual Field of Dreams site was recently sold. Will I ever make it back to Dubuque and see this staple of American history? Only time will tell, but let's keep our fingers crossed.

Sliding into home plate.

Our final picture stop ended with Teresa calling me fat. Okay not really but when she had to hold me in the air like a damsel in distress, she did mention the my 5'3" frame is very deceptive on my actual weight. (She put at maybe 100, my McDonald's habit and derby muscle mass put me a tad shy of 130). You be the judge of whether we pulled it off or not.

Real Scene

Real Life

 Teresa and I decided that if we ever have a mantel, only a badass Elvis suit can ever grace the space above it.

Although this villanous Elvis garb from 3000 Miles to Graceland
(probably my favorite Costner flick)
can never be out done.

A quick lounge in the bathroom and we headed out to the streets of South Dakota once again. The only thing missing from our Midnight Star experience was the sweet melody of Kevin Costner and Modern West.

Me literally lounging on a chaise in the ladies room.

Teresa washing her paws beneath a candlelit chandelier.

Enchanted Highway

After I thoroughly scoured every crumb and smear of red velvet cake from our hotel room walls and carpet, we hit the road for home.

Side note: My travel philosophy includes a huge leave the place as you found it, if not better, clause.

My OCD is ridiculous.

 Did I mention we successfully re-homed our box family? What with the extra room, Teresa and I settled into the back of the mini van for the long trip. Little did we know, we'd be stopping sooner than we thought.

Another travel philosophy I absolutely adhere to 100% is "Have an Adventure." To achieve this you must keep in mind:

*Go with the flow. If something piques your interest, stop and look, but don't stress. Nothing hurts an adventure more than anxiety. 

*Ask open ended questions. Talk to people; let them tell you their life story. Some of the best adventures I've stumbled upon came from me just listening to people.

*Take in your surroundings. From the smallest pebble to the biggest building, notice everything around you. Something will pop out.

 And most importantly

*WANT AN ADVENTURE. If you truly aren't open to having a memorable experience you'll completely overlook the possibilities right under your nose.

Enter The Enchanted Highway.
(Also known as the only reason to ever go back to North Dakota).

This stretch of country road is an incredible testament to the power of what one person can do. Local teacher Gary Greff feared that without some sort of landmark to interest tourists, his small home town of Regent, ND would die off, becoming yet another forgotten ghost town. So what did he do? He imagined a stretch of highway dotted with larger than life art. Gary learned how to weld and before you can say "sodder," the first statue was in place and the magic of one person's dream took flight.

The best part is Gary wanted no fiscal return for his work. He genuinely desired to capture a traveler's attention and inspire them with the art. While we only had time to see the most recent addition "Deer Crossing," it was enough to get us to donate all our cash to the cause.

See that ant to the right... Yeah that's me.

On our way to find an open business to leave our offering for funding future endeavors, we came upon some older buildings. These structures seemed to hold that small, dilapidated town feel I can never resist. Old buildings always make me feel oddly alive, like I'm breathing/walking through the past; a past that somehow stood the test of time and generations to remind people of what once was. I got to see and touch something that has survived all adversaries.  These structures also stood as a silent witness to the ruin Gary hopes to fight off.

We stood with them.

The Ringers

Well believe it our not, we actually made it to Bismark in time for equipment check. I finished trading out my skate wheels as we walked through the front door and just prayed my old school GT-50's had enough gumption to see me through the bout.

Notice I'm Wondering whether my trucks are loose enough.

During the bout last weekend (ACRG's season ender against Choice City), my skate truck snapped off the plate in the last two game minutes, which meant my trusty Riedell Sirens needed to sit this one out and my first ever pair of roller skates (the GT's) would finally get to see some game play. For those of you who are not seasoned skaters, you probably don't understand this mechanic mumbo jumbo, but know it's a HUGE deal. Trading out skates completely right before a bout is like telling a polo player they have to switch to riding a Clydesdale and use an unsharpened pencil to hit the ball. Nothing feels right. My sirens are adjusted to react to the slightest increase of pressure from even just my pinkie toe; my GT's on the other hand needed constant pressure and coaching from my entire lower body to keep from going completely squirrely. Somewhere between a talking to with Teresa's skate wrench and me adapting, those skates pulled through. Granted, it did feel like I was going down an unpaved road when I went through corners, I still pulled off the maneuvers I needed. For example juking:

See me with the blue knee pads?
See that large blocker darting over to hit me?

See my blue knee pads disappearing?
That's called juking - or rather changing skate direction in an instance to avoid a block.

Overall this was a great game that definitely tested my skating abilities. Plus I got to actually sit and watch my lovely Billings Derby Dames kick some quad butt. It's funny how when you're pitted against someone you don't notice how amazing they are. For example: I never noticed how Jam Good Time has this almost ballet-style movement to her juking. Out on the track that night I saw her dart in and out of opponents paths in such a fluid motion it almost looked like a performance of Swan Lake (her tutu didn't hurt either). Or how Dispikable Darling can hold a jammer behind her in a one woman wall for a full two minutes. Or how Wham Bam Rocket SLAM completely masters her role as a leader by changing line ups to better suit the players and by showing no mercy to the other team. Or how tough Lethal Lizzie became when she (unknowingly) broke her wrist but refused to quit until that final jam. (Also a lesson to all you skaters out there, never trust the EMT's. If you hurt, go get an x-ray). Even my own team members seemed to stand out more than I had ever noticed before. We all seemed to just click. Every player on that track was switched into full attention/high performance mode. Definitely one for the memory books. 

Imagine this as one of those epic sport movie pictures where the frame of action is snapped into a photo and slowly fades into monochrome.

At the end of the night the score stood at 165- 95, Billings with the win. Although I must say for only being the 4th game those Bisman Bombshellz have ever played, they put up quite a fight and had some amazing derby talent. But I'm still really stoked that we won... I mean, we didn't drive eight hours to lose a bout. =)

"BRDD Hell YEAH!"

And what derby game can be complete without a celebratory party afterwards???

I don't think the whole Team USA thing has really set in yet. Granted I have been doing a TON of work for it, but the whole "everyone in the derby community is watching our every move" thing is new. So when two of the Bisman Bombshellz sat down to chat, I totally did not expect the conversation we had. First off, these ladies were awesome; they played their asses off in the game and were making the after party rounds with amazingly positive vibes, always a derby quality to strive for.

Now I don't remember the entire conversation but I do remember these two things.

1) "They told us Billings was bringing in a couple ringers from Wyoming to play for them."

      (Really??? That's pretty fucking cool people thought of us as ringers... which I assume means awesomely tough/talented derby gals who can ring your bell :)



How could this mug be anything but a ringer?

 2) "Sooooooooooo we've been researching you online and want to know.... how rad is being on Team USA?!?!?"

(BTW the answer is pretty freaking!)

As a derby player I have never felt more flattered, humbled, and dare I say stalked??? (Except for all the times Shae and Cassie and Teresa have stroked my skating ego). Okay just kidding about the stalking... unless of course they show up outside my house... then I take back the kidding. It's actually really cool to know there are skaters out there who know about me and look forward to skating on the track together. It seriously makes me strive to be the best example I can (and gives me a guilty conscious every time I do something not so awesome). I just hope that I lived up to their expectations.

Our conversation soon halted when awards began to be read out. While an MVP award feels great, I LOVE when teams give out multiple awards. Everyone walks away feeling special and in this case accompanied by a candy bar. Teresa got "Coolest Mouth Guard"; Shae received "Baddest Bitch"; Tracy... Tracy what did you get???; and I garnered "Most Commanding Voice." Definitely put a grin on my face. Especially when some of the other team shouted "Get to the front!! Don't be a point!!" to replay my track verbiage.

My "Most Commanding Voice" Award

After claiming my edible accolade, the best Halloween event I have ever experienced occurred; a Patrick Swayze/Chris Farley (I've now deemed Patley) SNL Chippendale's skit walked right up to our table. So what did I do? Commandeered the band's p.a. system to plug in my phone, turned up the  the speakers until Loverboy's "Working For the Weekend filled the room, and screamed at them to dance. You know what? They KNEW it!!! Those dudes had every hip thrust, head shake, and crotch grab down pat! When folks actually research their Halloween costumes and rehearse a character, I am smitten (theatre major here), so I tipped them stripper style.

They earned it.

BTW those dollar bills we stuffed into their sweaty spandex were donated by some fellow who oddly came up to us and wanted a picture where Teresa & I were doing the tipping. I can only imagine what that man did with that picture and a bottle of lotion.

After a scream induced encore from the Patley's, I unhooked my phone from the band's p.a. and the musicians actually got to perform. It started off slow (an 80's male stripper act is hard to follow) but soon we were all practicing hip and shoulder checks in a derby mosh pit just off camera... Except for this guy.

There's always one...

I can only assume the lead singer was praying to the rock gods above that man did not know which groupie van belonged to them.

The party died down, an incognito wedding reception raid ensued, and eventually we all went to bed. The end. 

The video that will live in infamy (if you can see it):

My New Found...

If you keep up with my facebook, you probably know that currently I am in a minivan with three of my fellow derby gals road tripping it to Bismark, North Dakota to complete the roster for our sister league the Billings Roller Derby Dames.

BRDD & ACRG, Red, White, & Bruised Bout 2011

 Originally we had planned to stop for the night in Belle Fourche (so more fun to say with a Spanish pronunciation) but then we realized adventure lay just a few miles further down the road... and by adventure I mean gambling. Here's the breakdown of our night:

Arrive in Deadwood, South Dakota.
Pay $3.50 to an ATM for gambling money.
Loose a lot of money... and by a lot I mean $38.00
Teresa gets an ATM receipt that says she has $4,164 left in her account... we wish.
Shay wins $117 on the penny slots.
One of the Madhouse Madams derby gals is still butt hurt over a bruise one of our players gave her in a game three months ago.
Shae & Teresa walk to a pizza place a mile away.
Tracy & I drive to the pizza place.
I am a complete jerk to a drunk dude.
     *He tries to whistle at us. I mock his whistling abilities. He tries to defend said abilities. I tell him he's             only making us run away faster.
Hickok's owner is a frustrated asshole, but to be honest I would be to if I was the only establishment open that served food in a town where retarded college kids come to get wasted and fuck shit up.
I am a complete jerk to another drunk dude. This time I may have been a tad harsh.
We go back to the hotel.
I pass out in a coma of sleep at 4AM.

Right before I zonked out, I had been deep in conversation with Tracy. I fall in and out of sleep so quickly, Tracy didn't even notice I was no longer in the land of the living and continued talking to me for a good five minutes before Teresa got back in the room and asked her why she was talking to herself.

Literally fell asleep in the middle of talking and gmailing.

Eventually everyone nestled in for the night. We had a five hour drive ahead of us, so we planned to leave by 9AM the next morning. Our newly discovered card habits had other plans. It took us three trips to the car to finally leave that dim lit money pit. BUT even though the clock displayed 11:30 on the dash, we knew we had made a great decision. Shae ended up winning another $130 off the penny slots, I won back $35 of my $38 dollars, Tracy got her three card poker fix, Teresa won $140 dollars, and we all made several racially diverse friends (whom I like to call my lucky charms).

Lessons Learned:

1.Don't listen to Teresa when she tells you to split a blackjack hand with two queens.
2.When the dealer switches, you switch too... seriously walk away!
3.Every hand you win, put those chips in your pocket, especially if you're a woman because chances are compulsive thoughts/emotions control your actions. Out of sight, out of mind was the only way I was able to walk out of that casino with anything.
4. Always wear derby apparel to the tables. Not only are the pervy men attracted to you, but it seems the good cards are too. Example #1:

Okay so I wasn't bending over like this the ENTIRE time in the game area, but you still get the picture... Literally, the picture is right there above this sentence.

Oh, one last thing, did I mention we rescued a family of cardboard boxes from the middle of the I-90 last night? While we did almost side swipe ma and pa box and they did provide some amusing follies... they're beginning to overstay their welcome (don't tell them, but we've been looking for a dumpster for miles).

Word to the wise, if you ever come upon an abandoned box clan of your own in the dark, be sure to pull off onto the road shoulder and turn on your hazards. Not only is this safe driving tactics, but it also draws the attention of other drivers to your flashing lights and away from the road... the road littered with boxes.This also may be the reason we are missing baby box #1 & #3.

Carving Out Memories

I like stating the obvious. It's Halloween time again!
The leaves on trees shift rapidly in color, a crisp chill creeps into the air, and my work announces the annual Pumpkin Carving Contest.

My first year at the bank I thought "Why the Halloween not!" Before I knew it an orange mass had been delivered to my station. Ecstatic, I drove the squash home and then promptly forgot. Fast forward three days... 8:20AM my telephone (and by telephone, I mean cellphone) rings.

ME: Hello?!
JS: Hey KP, what are you doing?
ME: Well I just woke up, realized I was supposed to carve a pumpkin for work today, and have to be there in thirty minutes.
JS: Shit! Really? Are you going to get it done?
ME: Well right now I'm in my pajamas straddling the pumpkin with a stencil and a tiny orange saw. All I know for sure is I will not be showering before work and there are pumpkin seeds stuck to my kitchen ceiling.

This is the result:



And this is me not showered holding the result:


At the end of the day I walked out of the bank with first place bragging rights and a set of candle holders I can only assume were one of those bonus gifts you get from the Avon lady when you buy over 100 dollars worth of cosmetics.

Skip through a whole year and voila! It's pumpkin carving contest 2010 and this time I had a title to defend. A twenty minute stencil from the back of a carving book at Walmart wasn't going to cut it. Commence research! Before I could say "Bing!", an entire world a pumpkin art popped on my 2002 Windows monitor. We're talking actually portraits with shading and contrast carved into a garden vegetable; My mind had been officially blown. I knew what I had to do to secure my win.

An entire night of carving (literally 12 hours), left me sleepily shampooing my hair before work, exhausted yet completely satisfied with the accomplishment I now had sitting in my living room ready to compete for a second year title.

By the grace of the Redbull gods, I was able to pose long enough with my eyes open to take this picture:



Now here's the thing about truly masterful pumpkin carving; as you may have noticed from the above picture, it looks completely bonk without light behind it. They kind of remind me of those ink blot tests psychiatrists make you take (Question: Do they still give those tests or do docs just skip straight onto the Xanax prescriptions now?). Anywho... let's avoid that awkward over medicated debate and instead look at what my carving looked like in its full glowing glory:


Guess what?! That JDepp mug won me a second year pumpkin carving championship and a $5 gift card to the movie theatres! (FYI a movie costs $7.50 here).

So here I am, one year later:


Scraping and carving and whittling and cursing endless hours away. All in the name of a title, a title that signifies unmatched glory (which I make sure to bring up during performance reviews ;). This year much more is at stake though... if my carving can beat out the competition once again, my entire branch will win a pizza party. That's at least 5 pizzas of varying toppings multiplied by $5 (I'm of course using the Little Ceasar's calculation method) equals the largest prize to date!

This year though, they're throwing in a twist. It's up to the bank customers. So on Monday the 31st if you find yourself without anything to do for ten minutes, mosey on over the the main Hilltop bank branch on country club road to vote! While you're there grab yourself a cup of complimentary coffee, on me. If they say you can't vote without an account, just wait until the lady at the front desk looks away; then drop multiple votes in. I promise with the Pumpkin Carving title I will not abuse my power; heck I'll even share some of the pizza.

All this political campaigning aside, if you want to learn how to turn your desk into a delightful disaster such as this:


Let me know! I would love nothing more than to pass on my pumpkin carving knowledge. It's extremely cathartic and an amazing new way to exercise the right side of your brain. Not to mention super fucking cool.

Postin' An Oldie!

Remember MySpace? Yeah I wish I didn't either. For what it's worth I meandered over to the "day-late, dollar-short" profile I made in high school and found this old blog I wrote before I could even comprehend why people would keep a public online journal. Enjoy =) Oh and maybe buy me a purple bra.

Bought a red t-shirt with
this on it --->



BIG FISH EXTRAVAGANZA
April 18th, 2007

So last night I drove to Laramie for the Reel Big Fish concert. It was pretty sweet. The UW peeps took off the front part of the stage to make a pit, it was super small but once everyone crowded in and the music started I forgot all about its size.

While I was dancin' around in the mosh pit during Rx Bandits' set, my bra somehow was violently torn in two... don't ask me, I have no clue how it happened. I had two shirts on over it, just doesn't make sense...

Anywho I finished out the song in the mosh and then moved to the side to find my friend Steve. I stripped him of his Taste of Chaos sweater to cover up my bra-less self and went back to having fun.

My broken brazierre was still on under my shirt when Reel Big Fish came on. They were so freakin' hilarious! They interacted with each other and the crowd so well that I decided they deserved my bra. After a couple of songs and some struggling with Steve's sweater, I successfully pulled off the Zoolander removal of undergarments manuver (ok so that was slightly long winded, but you get the picture).

Holding my favorite purple bust booster in hand, I said goodbye, then thrust it into Steve's hands and screamed "Chuck it!" A few seconds and a ton of crowd cheering later the blonde trumpet player was trying to figure out how to put my bra on. It was so funny because he didn't know it was broken so he was putting it on backwards, upside down, asking backstage hands for help... in the meantime missing an entire song of playing. He then tried just tying it around his chest but I guess either I'm anorexic or he has slightly larger boobs than I because well... he couldn't get it tied.

So he and the trombone player took turns swinging it helicopter style back and forth until it eventually ended up on the bassist's mic stand. That completely made up for the fact that I had to drive all the way back to Casper that night and go to work at four the next morning!