A little while back Josh and Lisa took us to eat hot pots in the International District. Stacy and I were the first to arrive at the restaurant, and being the tallest, whitest guy in there at the time, for some reason I couldn't get anyone to pay attention to the fact that we were trying to get a table. But of course when Lisa shows up we get the table AND free dumplings. There are many reasons it's great to have Asian friends, and in our current food-obssessed yet entirely impoverished state, one of those reasons is because they know all the delicious inexpensive eats in the ID.
We also recently went clubbing, which might have been the most embarrassing thing I've done in my adulthood. The girls, of course, had a great time, and strangely so did Josh. ABells and I, as expected, had the look of death on our faces and couldn't wait to get out of there. Dirty just wandered around getting his drink on and trying to pick up on hot single chicks to replace his recently departed woman. I've reflected on why it is Josh is able to have fun in that environment while ABells and I suffer, and I came up with the following reasons:
1. He's significantly better looking than us -- seriously, the guy is like some cross between Adam Levine of Maroon 5 and Tom Cruise. He just fits in better with the beautiful club going people pictured above.
2. He dresses in a manner that isn't completely offensive to his wife or the general public. Hellooooo Old Faithful, which even with rather overt stains still seems to get worn all the time.
3. He can actually dance. ABells had convinced me he had club-ready moves when he spontaneously busted out the sickest pop and lock routine you've ever seen while watching an episode of So You Think You Can Dance; but alas, he has the same unrhythmic white boy moves that I do.
We went to the Seattle Cheese Festival last weekend. BBells and Stacy had a great time running around eating cheese while Abells and I moaned about how we wanted to kill ourselves it was so damn hot (88 degrees that day!). Please note that as of this year, the team featured on my hat hasn't won a World Series in a century. ONE HUNDRED FREAKIN' YEARS!!!
Unforutnately I've seen those hands reaching for that area a few too many times.
China is here Mr. Burton. The Chang Sing, the Wing Kong, they've been fighting for centuries.
That Jeff Fowler is a dapper fellow.
Our significantly more attractive, smarter, cooler, and all around superior other halves.
The last four pictures aren't very recent as they were taken around Christmas, but I just noticed we had them on our camera and they had never been posted on the blog. For the uninitiated, the Connors throw a Christmas party every year called the Neck & Nog. The dress code requires that you wear a turtle neck or sweater, and it has slowly (or perhaps rapidly) degenerated into a competition of who can show up in the most ridiculous outfit with the most heinous facial hair. Though to be truthful, it's never much of a competition as nobody can actually compete with Buxton. I have no idea where he comes up with his clothes for this thing, but we all know he's been able to grow an awesome mustache since about the 4th grade and that combination basically makes him the Michael Jordan of this unofficial competition.
