babywindows

Oh no!

2010-01-21T19:47:00.000-08:00

Yup, it's happened. This site has been left behind. Forgotten. I am ashamed of myself.

What have I done?

Well. Here's what I've been doing and where I've been doing it. Flickr!

The plan is to use Flickr as a repository, a dumparary if I may coin a term. "Dumparary." Dumpararium any better? I'll be updating this site with the greatest hits - "Greatest Hits!" of the goings on of life.

Megan and I have been upkeeping a wedding blog, Chris + Megan Sitting in a Tree, where we've been sharing all of our ongoing wedding plans. That will most likely be kept up with family in mind and what not.

In the meantime, here's a shot of me and the Future-Wife hanging out with some ladyfriends at The Saddle Rack in Fremont, CA.

DISNEYLAND IS A PLACE ON EARTH.

2009-05-31T21:17:00.000-07:00

Ah. Disneyland. We drove down to Anaheim for a wedding on Memorial Day Weekend and we snuck in a trip to Disneyland in. Megan booked us into a motel within walking distance, which turned out to be the Alpine Inn.

Don't let the snow capped roof fool you. It was not snowing in Anaheim.

We followed the marching band into the park and made our way straight to --

the Haunted Mansion!

The "Nightmare Before Christmas" decor that had been up during our last visit was gone --

No more Jack Skellington. Just a bunch of old timey bullshit...

Yet Megan was scared.

"Ah! Lady in white dress! With an umbrella!"

"Agh! His arms are folded! Scary!"

It became a friendly and happy place once again as we passed through the Hollywood Backlot of California Adventure.*

Where Megan gave Sully a little kiss.

The hussy.

Joining us were a gaggle of Megan's college friends.

We did a run on the Big Thunder Mountain ride. Our first craptastic line of the day.

Trainz!

Here's the fake Palace of Fine Arts in California Adventure.

Just to refresh my own memory - Cailfornia Adventure is a theme park located in CALIFORNIA with the theme being CALIFORNIA. So, hey, you could be in fake San Francisco then in fake Hollywood, oh, after a quick tour of the fake wine country, then mosey into fake Santa Cruz.

Are those actual places a tourist in Anaheim can't manage to get to? Crazy world.

Here are a few overly dark pictures of us voicing cartoons.

Yay! These photos totally make sense! I absolutely know what's going on!

"Yes, Megan? Can I help you?"

Smashing your face?

Crying?

"What the hell is Megan doing?"

Good question, John.

Oh, that's right. Sunscreen. Hmmm...

Supposedly they changed It's A Small World --

Yet still same ol' same ol' --

It's the same cutesy, homemade stuff. And I love it!

Then we rode some rides.

And I took pictures of it.

For our last ride Michael rallied the troops (well, at least me and John) to Splash Mountain. It was the final ride of the day, at midnight. We were the last car. We made it. We're awesome. Remember this day.

"I will!", says my inner voice.

Then me and Megan drove home back to the Bay Area. La ti da.

*ED NOTE: This is out of order. We did California Adventure later in the day, but for the sake of whatever, it's being represented earlier in the day's timeline than actually happened. Oh no! Oh well. The only part I can claim to being in order is the fact that we arrived before we left. Other than that, shits all over the place.

We could all use a little Bimbo Magic.

2008-09-29T13:17:00.000-07:00

Due to unforseen (i.e, work; i.e, lame) circumstances, my birthday get together was postponed. It was horrible. Oh, God - I didn't think life, the world, existence, would or even COULD go on.

Total surprise! It totally did!

"Hey, Jake! Over here!"

SNAP.

"Um. Again!"

SNAP. A little better.

We headed across the Bay Bridge to Golden Gate Fields, which is in Berkeley and not San Francisco so I can only ask, "What the fuck?"

It was $1 day at the races. Entry, parking, hot dog, beer, etc. Well, the only "etcetera" would be "soda," so the list would read: Entry, parking, hot dog, beer, and soda.

The lil' guys paced the field before racing.

I kept putting my money on this jockey, Russel Baze, a Canadian born jockey from a family of jockeys. He's won over $5 million, and he's always the favorite to win - so I played favorites.

For a spectator sport, not many spectators spectatoring. It was Sunday and part of $1 day is that every NFL game is being shown throughout the place. Lots of cracked out sports gamblers ambled about muttering and tossing losing tickets on the ground, focused on incoming scores of games and races at other tracks.

For the first race we caught, I got up close to watch the horses ushered into the starting gate -

This is my version of the winning horse crossing the finish line. It's crap, but if the Racing Form wants to employ me, shoot me an e-mail!

They removed the starting gate --

and the ambulance --

And the next race took off --

And Jake wore sunglasses on his head and there were clouds --

And the horses raced on grass and my sports photography grew a bit more with experience.

The empty winner's circle.

Is he reading a book?

We waiting for the winning horse to come by --

By blocking the handicap access zone so we could take portraits.

My self-attempt - UNSUCCESSFUL.

Jake's attempt - SUCCESS!

My awesome hat was not seen as awesome by Megan on any other day besides race day. I had special permission to wear it in public due to it's familiar look on such men as Brian Doyle Murray.

"Caddyshack" is not a horse racing film, but in certain situations if I claim similarity to any Murray brother it is an automatic win and I can do as I please.

For the final race we continued to block the handicap access to watch horse number 2 and its jockey, Russell Baze.

At the last stretch he was 2nd--

But pulled ahead to win in the final moments.

The posse made their way back to the paddock --

And Russell Baze took to the winner's circle with the owner's of the horse for photographs --

And Handshakes.

"Over here, Russell! It's me! Thanks for winning! I totally deserve this $15.30 I got for you riding a horse in a circle faster than the other guys on horses!"

I'm not sure how much the family won due to Russell's win, but I only bet $2 and got $15.

Congratulations, you are all winners. Not sure what the horse gets for his work.

Megan claimed this was her best side --

Or was this her best side?

They both look good to me. ZING!

We all walked off, happier, richer, more full of life than when we entered this fine East Bay gambling establishment. I would like to extend an offer to Daniel Stern to be the narrator of my life.

Stay Wonder(fully) Year('d),

Kevin Amold

Bacheloring to the Future!

2008-09-29T09:56:00.001-07:00

Back in August of '08, I was asked to attend a bachelor party for a young man, Dave, who is now married.

Here is the house where the bacheloring took place.

Here is the lighting of the bacheloring party cigars.

Here is Dave sparking fire from his crotch to unleash the bachelor tonic, "tobacco smoke."

The Patron of the Bachelor, Another Dave, drank from the Wedding Chalice, that fine drink of "Bud Light."

In honor of his many friendships, the Bacheloring Dave did a ritualistic dive over barbed wire --

In many circles it is a great honor to witness such of feat. We honored the young David --

By taking turns at the jumping of the barbed wire --

Dave was proud of his friends. Their strength and courage was to be envied.

We walked the encampment, telling many stories of victories --

And humorous tales of our crushed enemies.

More Bud Light was shared, in honor of Dave's coming vows.

As we marched on we gazed at the many beach homes --

None of which were as majestic and awesome as our own.

We were brilliant. Golden. We were stars. But like any group of men, we demanded more.

We demanded a little, if not a lot, of danger.

Willing to brave the steep cliffside to stand at the ocean's mouth --

We took stock of lives and what we were willing to give to this beast.

With the mouth of the Pacific foaming at our weathered heels --

David the Bachelor spoke words to the angry sea --

"I am to marry the one I love, the one I adore! Honor me now, O'King of the Oceans!"

And the sea answered back with the mightiest waves to hit the Califiornia Coastline.

"I am appeased! Thank you O'King of the Oceans!"

After this, the waters went calm, and the party began bachelorizing once again.

The other Dave, the Best Man, took to his man's side --

To share in a toast to the mighty sea --

And give thanks to all is bountiful and good in life.

As with all bachelors, months prior to their marriage, we took part in a customary game of "Tossing Things."

We took brief pause to refill our innards with the Wedding Ale --

And offered a "Tossing" to the sea.

Once the first round of "Tossing Things" came to an end, the game began it's second incarnation, of "Tossing Things at Man."

Being the "Best Man," it was Dave's duty to take the first hit --

And take it he did, like a man.

It was now the bachelor's turn --

He took the proper distance, and watched the weapons of the sea fly his way.

After Dave won passage and permission to marry from the sea --

We ascended back into the World, to advance to the next stage of Bacheloring.

At the top of the steps, the King of the Oceans had taken human form to greet us.

Jared stayed behind, enchanted by the sound of the Old Man's voice, which was remarkably like the crashing of waves and whale calls.

David, the husband-to-be, took the path alone.

With only the promise of his betrothed waiting for him at its end.

At dusk, the fellowship reformed, and followed our friend back to the house, for more ale, for more tales of high adventure, and for Starship Troopers 2.

The next morning, we took to the rolling hills --

With jugs of water --

And pints of ales --

To participate in another bacheloring tradition --

The thwacking of white balls into distant holes.

Best Man Dave & I were given the distinguished honor of being the Guardians to the Ale --

As well as keeping watch of the husband-to-be.

After the long weekend of bacheloring, we were successful in of our bouts --

David passed all of his challenges, beat his demons, and marched through his thresholds and came out the other side, a better man - A Married Man.

***all told, this is a work of weak fiction, not to be taken seriously. No Gods or enemies were met, and/or challenged. In the end it was beers and golf in honor or friends and marriage.***

ALL THAT SUMMER HAS.

2008-09-15T14:51:00.000-07:00

A few months back, during that part of the year folks like to call "summer," I went to Jake & Ashley's place to celebrate the 4th of July, as well as the 6th of July - Jake's 30th birthday.

Jake manned the grill and set up the mini-keg, or kegarator, or whatever you want to call. Ashley works for New Belgium, so the beer flowed amber and foamy.

Before night could even hit we tossed off a few fireworks.

They were not too spectacular during the daylight, but in the end fire is fire --

So Jake was pleased to see smoke and flame.

As for Pete?

He showed that firework a thing or two and jumped it.

"Jumpin' it here, boss."

"Jump it, Pete"

After a few more exotic thrills, like these sparklers, we took the show to the front yard --

So Jake could roll around --

And Ashley could tend to her cocktails & cigarettes.

There was plenty of darts and alcohol (God's Holy Combo) before heading backyard style yet again --

For some more fire jumping -

Fire watching --

Fire holding --

And fire side robot dancing, brought to you by Peter.

Anything flammable and explosive was lit at an arm's length --

And we celebrated another goddamn year of 4th of july's, and we welcomed Jake into his 30th year of life.

FOR WE SHALL ARISE & CONQUER.

2008-06-30T21:40:00.000-07:00

In honor of BMWs, Polo shirts, and women's heels --

I present a journey that has lived on my hard drive for over a year --

A simple story or three men and a huge shoe found in the parking garage of a Marina district bar.

Jared, ball's in your court.

And your face.

ZING!

NOW IT ALL MAKES SENSE.

2008-06-30T21:07:00.001-07:00

It seems I stopped by the Vault and caught the end of the hockey finals.

Red Wings? They won? It was my usual Monday night out.

The drinks flowed. This man is usually on the OTHER side of the bar, but hey, it's the finals, right?

Leif wasn't feeling it. Coulda been his lack of camo hat for loser pretection.

The check was paid (Hello there, credit card!) --

and it must have been late. No N Judah or L Taraval for me, just the depressing late night creeping of the 38 Owl.

THE POWERS WE HAVE.

2008-06-30T12:23:00.000-07:00

***ED NOTE: Due to my lack of posting for roughly a year, I am rusty. Please ignore all lack of humor, wit, or points of interest. Thank you.***

"Hey, wasthat?!"

Megan at a baseball game!

We arrived a few innings late, per my usual.

You can't tell too well in this photo - but they're are actual HUMAN LIPS in place of Lou Seal's mouth, so he can sing along to "We Will Rock You."

After the game we made our way out of the park, turning an easy walk to the bar a 45 minute push against the wind.

We passed under the Bay Bridge -

It was pretty damn windy - it made Megan do her Monster Walk(tm).

But we made it to Dave's just in time for drinking.

Um, this is a different bar on a totally different day. Tourist Day actually. But basically the same thing happened. We drank and ate chips.

Yup. Eatin' and Drinkin'. Probably should get a hobby.

But then again, one night after work I went to the Vault and drank with the kids.

COMING SOON --

BACHELOR PARTY! NOW WITH MORE DRINKING!

Hiccups.

2008-06-30T11:11:00.000-07:00

A lot of the same has been going on.

Taking trains --

Eating like shit. That sort of thing.

Went to Wonder-Con 2008 and saw Brian Austin Green projected over a crowd so he could pontificate on the importance of his character in THE SARAH CONNOR CHRONICLES.

Leif was not feeling the force that day. Too many nerds. I mean, he is wearing a camo hat. So that qualifies him as a "tough."

This was just one of many brief jaunts to Napa for wine and drunkeness. Back there? Taylor's Refresher. Yeah, fuck off Ferry Building!

Then off to some winery. I could totally pee there. Check it out. Begging for urine.

To celebrate Memorial Day (Veteran's Day? Flag Day?) we decided a tourist day was in order. That's Megan's sad face. Crappy gin and tonic? Was I being too cool for school? My memory fails me.

We made our way through Fisherman's Wharf --

And after a bit of fake loitering (like tourists do) we wandered over --

To the Buena Vista for a couple of these.

Irish coffees made by genuine rude bartenders! Wowee!

Welcome, 2008. Can I offer you a handshake?

2008-01-07T15:52:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile. I'm on my third digital camera. The other two didn't last. I have very little hope for the new one. God rest it's soul, here it goes --

NEW CAMERA

2008 - ?

This fine piece of equipment was purchased from the fine man that is Jared --

Here is Jared living his dream, surrounded by balls. ZING!

***Ed note: This photograph stolen from Jared's Flickr page. I didn't take and I don't know who did. All questions, queries, ponderings, and more ball jokes can be sent to Jared.***

I've been spending a lot hours at work. We call it "billable hours," or "man hours," like we're doing something important.

Here's the hallway. I spend a few minutes a day pacing this stretch of carpet, exiting and entering --

The men's room, where we can "clock" more man hours.

Shit. Take that un-innuendo how you please.

During the few moments of down time, there is this ol' thing laying about --

"Oh, What's that?" You ask?

Why, that just happens to be a lil' axe custom made by Ibanez for --

Larry LaLonde of Primus.

Okay, that's not the same guitar. But it was his.

You can't really read his name, but it's there. And it basically says "My Job is More Metal Than Yours." Or at least it's more " '90s Alterna-Rock Than Yours."

Ah, all of those wonders hidden in gray hallways we will never know.

I"ll be the doctor, baby. You be the nurse. ZING!

2007-08-13T22:18:00.000-07:00

A quick over view of one useless Friday night.

That's right.

Let's go mother'effing crazy. Prince & The Revolution.

Possibly best song ever?

Possible my ass. It is the BEST SONG EVER.

Well, after Prince & The Revolution's "1999."

***ED NOTE: When I die please play PURPLE RAIN front to back, say but for the last two minutes of "Computer Blue."***

Working. Work worky work. Recording something. What is it? I don't know. Some lady selling something.

After a day at the office, went to Vesuvio's with Ric the Intern.

Before I had showed up I'd had a few beers with Matty, but alas, no photos of that. Norton's Vault. Best bar in the Financial District by far.

Better than Dave's on 3rd? Votes are out, buddy.

Ric the Intern had a friend out from Boston who learned the xybraphone (or something?) at Berklee School of Music.

Yeah. He knows a few things about a few things when it comes to music.

Needless to say we drank. Perhaps too much and then...

Got a motherhumpin' limosine (Is the driver flipping us off? )

And drank our faces off until --

Musical fights foughts broke out...

So we needed FRESH air so we could...

Feel the cool breeze of the San Francisco air...

"I'm a better Miles Davis!"

Everyone made friendly in the limo, because a limo is like church. You don't argue in church do you?

At some point I said my goodbyes --

And did the walk back home through the Sunset, past the fabled Korean Methodist Church, where no arguements were heard.

...now sponsored by Coors Light - the silver bullet won't slow you down.

2007-08-10T14:37:00.001-07:00

True. I haven't updated in ages. Actually, it's only been months. Ages are counted in periods of generational birth and death, not days.

I have a new camera I've already broken, but I do have new (NEW!) posts to...post. So I'll post those posts and we'll get this goddamn show on the road.

On a personal level, a few things have slowed and broken me down in many ways this year. This album has been there to keep me up.

Panda Bear - Person Pitch

I had it for months and I finally got to listening to it, and it has grown on me to a point where I listen to it everyday, or at least think of it everyday to a point where it's like my girlfriend. I miss it when I'm at work. I'd say everyone should do the eMusic thing where you get 25 free downloads and pick it up. It's totally not a scam, I swear. I did it and now and got a plan for $15 a month to get like 70 downloads. It goes fast. I got the whole Spoon discography for basically a few bucks.

You can order a free DVD of some shows of Panda Bear here. This will be interesting to only a handful of folks, but that's how I like my folks. In handfuls.

So now the 30th birthday is fast approaching. I can't remember many of my years, but I guess I'm going into my 30th one. Let's hope they only get more memorable from here on out.

The end of an era, thank God.

2006-11-26T14:39:00.000-08:00

A casual sports fan at best (despite what all the Giants games suggest) there are only a few athletic moments that are of much interest to me.

I took my Dad to the last Giants game of the season which isn't one of those moments, and after stopping for a quick (cheap) hot dog and beer -

We found our seats to enjoy -

The last game (possibly) EVER of motherfuckin' Barry Bonds's career. Not surprisingly, I didn't give a shit. His half-assed attempts at humility and hubris never much interested me.

As much as I do like the idea of fat middle-aged men playing sports, he lacked the gruff beard and fine hair of say, John Kruk or David Wells, who even at their physical peak were best compared to tow truck drivers not athletes.

Me and the Dad put our feet up (uh, hello? Where's the sold out crowd AT&T Park?)

To watch the visiting Los Angeles Dodgers sweep our okay-liked Giants.

Yeah. I know. Big fucking deal.

Well, then at some point in the last year I got a few drinks. Hey! New shirt!

"Hey, Chris! Remember me? I used to be your favorite new shirt. What happened?"

"Well, New Shirt, the newness wore off and you became "shirt." No hard feelings?"

"But I'm plaid! You love PLAID!"

"Not now, shirt. Not now."

"NEW SHIRT! Call me NEW SHIRT!"

Whozit? Whassat?

2006-10-02T17:02:00.000-07:00

Oh, you know...

Same ol' same ol'.

A litte bit of this, a little bit of that.

A brilliant high-five 29 years in the making.

Holy gosh damn.

2006-04-20T15:53:00.000-07:00

So after seeing this little bitch, Magic Shuffle, popping up everywhere, I figured I have a few minutes of down time, might as well play along. Let's see what great insight into my life my lil' iPod has, shall we?

How does the world see you?

* Who Died - Hot Snakes

Hmmm. Okay. This song seems to be about this guy, and all his friends are wondering what happened to his ex-girlfriend. Well, she was the one "Who Died." So everyone wonders where I went?

Will I have a happy life?

* The Hardest Part - Ryan Adams & The Cardinals

Oh, great. "The hardest part is loving someone who cares for you so much." Wait? How is that hard?

What do my friends really think of me?

* Robot - Futureheads

This song seems to be saying that the only thing that will live forever is a robot. So my friends think I'm eternal? So sweet of you all.

Do people secretly lust after me?

* Firecracker - Ryan Adams

"Maybe be your baby tonight." Someone wants to have a one night stand with me?

How can I make myself happy?

* Cleopatra Jones - Mark Eitzel

"Always kind to strangers, but know enough to not look back." Yeah, I'd buy that.

What should I do with my life?

* 1999 - Prince

Fucking hell, that's right. Party like it's 1999? Let's do it.

Will I ever have children?

* They Never Got You - Spoon

So this is no I guess. Poor future children, it's just no in the cards. I've out-witted you all!

What is some good advice for me?

* Supercharged - The Miss Alans

"Drive across the world." This song is pretty horrible, but hey, it's just about going out and living it up as much as possible. Funny, that seems to be theme so far. All right. Next.

How will I be remembered?

* A Little Bit Of Shhh - Lady Sovereign

"A little bit shhh for me." So I talk to much and need everyone to shut the fuck up to listen? Sounds close. Only when I'm drunk though.

What is my signature dancing song?

* Opened Once - Jeff Buckley

That's right, a slow jam. A slow jam for the bed. Sweet.

What do I think my current theme song is?

* Leif Erikson - Interpol

I have no clue on this one. I'm an explorer? Dark and mysterious?

What does everyone else think my current theme song is?

* Come Home - Placebo

Have I gone too far? Spending too much time out and about?

What song will play at my funeral?

* Electricityscape - The Strokes

"For me tomorrow is my first day, so please don't take it the wrong way." Good. I like that. Death ain't no thing. A little rock will do the weepy weeps some good.

What type of women do you like?

* Don't Dream It's Over - Crowded House

Girls that constantly think I'll leave them? What? Girls that want me to want them forever? Durr.

What is my day going to be like?

* Books For The Fire - Former Cities

Okay, so this is a song I wrote like 5 years ago. It has nothing to do with my day. What is it about? Well, that's for me to keep to myself.

So what's the verdict? Well, fun I guess. Nothing too precise. I could have heard anything and made sense of it. Although two Ryan Adams's songs so close together? Hmmm, curious.

Toasted not stirred Ham & Cheese voddy.

2006-02-21T11:55:00.000-08:00

It's starting to look like not having a camera in my pocket everywhere I go is a good thing. I caught up with Jared this weekend in Walnut Creek. I was in town doing my duty, showing up at a family friend's funeral, when Jared called with an invite to Dan's Bar.

"Dude."

"Dude."

Plans were made. He was setting up an internet scam, or whatever you want to call it, and hooked up a server to some blah blah blah. I show up at Dan's and Jared is sitting at the bar dicing up a calimari steak. It was slightly short of "fucking awesome."

The night wore on and as Jared is want to do, shots were ordered and swallowed. Turns out the man knows a lot of people in Walnut Creek. It also turns out that my homeland breeds ton of beautiful girls. TONS. I mean, 3 girls out of every 5 were at least extremely fucking cute. Huh? San Francisco runs about 2 out 15. Or more. I don't know that average. But Concord bats about .700 to SF's .250. Maybe I just really dig those suburban girls.

If I had photos of all of this is would not be pretty, even with all the attractive faces. Drunk is polite. Trashed is a man-made disaster. All I know is that I talked all night to anyone who would listen (Sorry Adam) and wound up in bed Sunday with a sliver of a memory of my travel across the bay. I'm blaming my stupidity of drinking on the neccesity of cleansing my heart and mind from the day's mourning.

Yes, regrets. How many of us have them?

I got some pictures in the mail today from Rando. We all met up at the Wonder Con a week or so back at the Moscone Center. It wasn't %100 comic books like I thought I remembered from previous years. There was the block of adult models and the booths of toys and whatnots. The favorite for me was the folks selling the DVD imports of whack foreign films. I found a ton of Jess Franco films, which I'm collecting even though I don't really like them. There's something about collecting hard to find objects that I can't help but like.

Dave Bee and I both walked away with Casshern and almost picked up Porno Holocaust. At first I thought it was called Porno Apocolypse and thought, "Huh, that could be really fucking weird and great," but Dave Bee clarified, "No man, Porno HOLOCAUST. A little different."

Some blah hours later found me following around Ron and Rando to the Star Wars Fan Film Festival that was that night's festivities. We went in the wrong room and took the stage where Bryan Singer and Superman stood hours earlier --

And I took some questions --

Before we got our asses handed to us by the security guard. You know, we fucked up and were someplace we didn't belong, but the guard totally drilled into us and all we do was walk faster out to watch some shitty fan films. Oh, but we did get hella Star Wars buttons for free.

We topped the night off with one final brew and a brownie.

--- IN LATE BREAKING NEWS ---

Dave Bee and I, plus many other talented kids have started work on Megakoi.com. It will mostly follow our "professional" projects, but who knows. My much larger write-ups of both the Wonder Con and Anthony Daniels will appear there later this month.

Plus some other things.

A video or two.

Some writing and stomach punches.

We take to the future.

Plus hopefully myself will get myself a new camera.

That's positive thinking, Myself.

"I know. It's good for the soul. Good for the rock and the roll."

ThreepiYES!

2006-02-08T09:43:00.000-08:00

Still no camera these days.

"Not to worry, Myself! There's still much to do!"

2006 has been pretty kick ass. First I met Fred Armisen and now Anthony Daniels AKA motherfuckin' C3PO came into my work! He was recording some narration for a short film an ex-Lucas Film artist is working on. So I pretty much hung out with Threepio for a few hours last week. HIGHLIGHT OF FOREVER!

Again, no camera. He was kind enough to autograph our studio's door -- "With Force, Anthony Daniels." Man. That is best.

With Force. Crap, that's good.

I was going to use this picture from his site to illustrate what it was like to meet the man --

See? There he is. That's him. That's Threepio. You can kind of feel like you were there. Well, my good pal Rando was kind enough to do an artist's rendition of the great day --

Bonus points for the nerd out Star Wars joke, but nice one loser, trying to make Jabba's Palace the Cantina. Rookie move, Rando.

To return the favor I managed to get a screen grab of Rando's guest appearance on an episode of Gilmore Girls --

He played the alcoholic boyfriend who wanted to get with his girlfriend's daughter. Rando wants to give it to Rory. Or whichever one is the hot daughter.

Now on to a new feature --

FRIENDS: HOW MANY OF US HAVE THEM?

I'd like to highlight Dave Bee today. For no other reason that to post this fine picture I found on his "professional" site --

Shit. How do you beat that? He's in a goddamn helicopter. Do you see that camera? That's insane. Dave Bee gets some points for that. Like a MILLION.

This is a spec he shot while at the Academy -- FILM SNOB --

That guy is our man in Nashville Eric Lee. He's pinching away at his zombie movie opus as I type. Or playing War Craft. Either one. The gentleman in the opening shot is his Daddy. Cute, eh? Making movies with Poppa. Dadda. Big Bear. Hmmm...I'm currently trying new nicknames for my Dad. There's got to be something there.

Anyhoo -- that spec is very similar to this Fred Armisen digital short --

I'm trying to name drop Fred Armisen as much as possible. So far that's one time.

So the Film Snob short is pretty badass. That's a given. No questions asked. If you've seen the Academy's real commercials they pay for, you'll most likely wonder why they even bother putting crap on the air when they have this piece made by students and it even won some award. But no. The Academy doesn't work that easily. I could get more vague but there are very few details in this paragraph to delete.

Fuckers.

Whatever. We're Academy grads.

BLADOW!

HELICOPTER!

Did I mention I met C3PO? I did. Damn. What about Fred Armisen?

See you later internet --

With Force,

Myself

Light yer rockets.

2006-02-01T20:53:00.000-08:00

Jared set 2005 on fire.

And threw it out the window at friends.

He also took Rick outside and showered him with champagne --

And Rick was kind enough to offer a cigarette to the face.

Which turned into Da-da-dancing!

And then fight dancing.

Then tackled to the couch dancing --

Then wrastling in bed with a bottle of sake dancing? I guess it still qualifies. They ain't naked.

Oh, wait. There's wet embraces.

And balls.

It wasn't dancing at all.

Blada! Oh well! Fuck off 2005!

The party took to the streets. Wait? Is a bunch of drunken dorks throwing fireworks and dumping each other in alcohol still considered a party?

"You bet your ass, Twat!"

The thing about fire is, well, when you get fire around --

And everyone is playing with it --

What you kinda want to do is --

Put it IN YOUR FOOKIN MOUF!

"No! In ma fookin' MOUF!"

After Jared swept the driveway (but the fuck the goddamn street!) the party soon moved back into the apartment --

Then the floor --

What's that?

"FLOOR!"

Jared had those lame poetry magnets, but his were in German. I think the point of this picture is the last two words -- MANN FLEISCH.

See? MAN FLESH.

I like to explain jokes. Get it? That's a joke because if you explain it then it's not funny and THAT'S FUNNY!

Right?

At this point it was mostly, "Take a picture of gdamdkmafdmkbmkalmkmAAAAHHH!"

"Come're we'll kwadkfamkmxcdaldfkmAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

"AAAAAHHHHHH!"

All of them folks left and Jared said, "Hey, bro, we'll just sit'er and akdjfkladma..."

Which meant pass out and watch Ren & Stimpy.

Goodbye, 2005! Go fuck yourself!

In the end, 2005?

Nailed it!

One Crazy Much Better Off Than Dead Day Off Summer

2006-01-29T22:15:00.000-08:00

It was a very gray Christmas. Constant cold and rain. After Christmas Eve with my sister and Mom, we made it out to see our Dad Christmas day. That's how we do this holiday thing. Go halfsies on the 'rents.

This tree was always maintained with a fort. It's cool to see that some other kids have found it and re-built a ladder up.

Um. And here's my college graduation picture. It kind of just sits on a coffee table in the corner. It's next to the kitchen so it has a little layer of weird film. Grease? Oil? Is grease and oil the same thing?

My Dad's new to the whole "family picture" thing.

It wasn't until two years ago that my high school graduation picture made it to the wall.

Although he does have a head study I did in college. It is still on the armature but that's a give or take type thing. It works. Whatever.

I think the sudden urge to have pictures and whatnots of us had something to do with this lil' cutie. My sister already has two lil' ones and somehow grandkids really motivate my Dad.

Which I totally understand.

Because I chased that girl around all day and have a MILLION pictures of her doing the SAME EXACT THING.

After my sister and family left, I headed out to Time Out, a local bar in Concord. A bunch of old friends were in town to see family, so we've been meeting there Christmas night --

Here's Dave Pee.

And here's Anal Mucas --

They're big into costumes. Like giant jars of Mayonaise and Superman pajamas.

They're band that was around in high school that have reunion shows on Christmas. Time Out gets packed Christmas night with all these thirty something old punk kids in town. It's usually a bunch of fat 30 year-old kids moshing and jumping around. Security is definitely a must, even on Christmas.

To get the feel of Time Out, take a peek in the bathroom --

The men's room toilet is missing, so they covered the pipe with duct tape and the cardboard from a Snuggles box (Huh?) and then placed with traffic barrier over it. Classy.

Hey! That's my Josh! Josh was my roomie in LA. He writes music for commercials and TV shows and whatnot. We had a make believe TV show called "That's My Josh!" On drunken nights we would record our laughs, and we a pretty solid laugh track assembled in Pro Tools. The other guy? Kevin!

A 3 AM drive back into San Francisco in the rain. Bladow!

New Years Eve? Somewhere over the rainbow.

Goodnight, Myself.

"Goodnight."

Who is your daddy and what does he do?

2006-01-27T10:37:00.000-08:00

On a breezy Sunday afternoon (feels like your there, don't it?) me and Dave decided to stretch our muscles --

With a little golf at Mission Bay Golf. That's where you can go to hit golf balls with golf clubs, into the golfing area, off of the golf tee. 100% GOLF.

Golf. Golf.

Like Ted Knight used to say, "You know, in Scotland they call it GOF. See? Without the L. GOF."

We found a spot. Whatever they're called. Golf...standing...places.

Took in the view --

And then we got our GOF on --

BLADOW! BALL ACTION!

There's a lesson here in poor form somewhere --

But I don't know good form so blah blah blah.

But Dave knows standing around --

And putting the GOF ball on the GOF ball tee --

And of course drinking. The driving range had beers in these plastic cups, like for iced coffee and crap. Good. GOOOOOD.

The range is tucked away on 6th Street, behind the freeway overpasses and next to Grabber Drywall Supplies. GRABBER.

I guess this setting is supposed to inspire athleticism? Huh. Don't know. Can't say. But we will be back.

Yes we will...

And until that day comes Mission Bay Golf, BLADOW!

Bring up what you got up.

2006-01-26T14:38:00.000-08:00

I have some bad news, but I also have some good news. The good news isn't really "good," perhaps only interesting in that, "Yeah, pretty cool" kind of way. The bad news, well -- it's pretty BAD NEWS BEARS.

Bad news first.

Here is the official start of the BAD NEWS:

Went out last Friday. Met up with James & Matt. Dave popped in. We drank. Ate. Laughed and all of that. Matt & James left to their respective families, and since neither Dave nor I have a care in the world, we went for more drinks and some Del Taco. Great times. I hung out with a new friend (James) and oldie (Matt) and Dave, who has yet to be categorized beyond "School Friend," which isn't really working out any more. I tried "Old School Friend" but it just made it seem like we were "Old Skool," not the literal sense that we are both from a certain school and that was such a long time ago that it can qualify as "Old."

This isn't the bad news.

On my way to the bus stop I was snapping pictures of this and that. "Oh wow! A manaquin!" The bus was taking forever, so I propped my camera on a nearby garbage and took retarded pictures of myself in the street (which can now be seen on myspace! Hottdamn!) Blah blah blah --

It fell off and broke.

The lens bent so I twisted it around (sounded right at the time) and jammed it back into to place. It was the wrong place. It was jammed into the "Broken Place."

Bad News is currently being stated as: camera done broke.

Tada!

I still have plenty of pictures from the last few weeks to use, but now I gotta buy a new camera. I think. I tried fixing mine but it was a no go. I took it all a part and that really did nothing.

So fuck it.

THE GOOD NEWS looks something like this --

YAY! Fred Armisen came into today. I can't, or just won't say how or why or anything, but Fred Armisen came in and was the nicest fucking guy ever and a major badass. I hope if Fred Armisen ever Googles his name, or does the Google search for "Fred Armisen googles his name," that this post shows up and he goes, "Huh? Well what do you know. I'm a badass and a FUCKING nice guy."

I can't say that this is technically "Good News," but it is most definately not "Bad News." Plus, I could have screwed up what he was in for, and I didn't. Hmmm.

So I must be a badass as well?

I guess you could say yes, yes I am. You could also say I pretty much saved the day.

But...

BAD NEWS PT. II!

Combine the "Good News" and the current state of "Bad News" leaves the fact that I was chilling (or "hanging," whichever your inner reading voice prefers) with Fred Armisen (okay, for about five minutes) and I didn't have my camera. AND he was super FUCKING nice so it was pretty much in the bag that he wouldn't have minded all that much to take a picture with me.

Yes, I know. Boo fucking hoo.

One last thing --

Have a good season there, Fred!

Keep going and move, keep going and cheer.

2006-01-12T10:48:00.000-08:00

The days leading up to Christmas are slender, you leave work earlier and stay in bed longer. Shop more. Out and about. The rain came, and it would have been nice if it were snow, but it wasn't. This is San Francisco.

I was off of work a few hours early the Thursday and Friday before the weekend --

So I did some shopping and some drinking. I met up with Dave for a few on Thursday.

Where we had a quiet table by the plastic fire.

Mmmm...holiday wreaths. I like holiday wreaths. "Do you like me, Holiday Wreath?"

"Oh! I like you very much! If I had hands we could shake!"

"We could hug, Holiday Wreath!"

"If I had lips we could kiss!"

"We could kiss, Holiday Wreath!"

The next day, Friday, I got off work even earlier --

So I took my box of Amazon presents to the Vault for a beer and a burger. Your welcome, Box.

Dave dropped by and drank a few before we hit the Puma store in Union Square --

Here's the blow by blow.

Dave was achin' for some white sneaks --

Uh, wait --

Wait for it --

POW! He nailed it.

Dear Puma Store,

I was in line waiting to purchase your fantastic white sneaks when I heard a mysterious beat. "What is that?" I wondered. Oh, that's right. You have a DJ. A goddamn DJ. Nice one, Puma.

Regards,

White Sneaks

Dave had some family thang to tend to, so I wished him luck and went off to the Vault again, where I was supposed to meet Jake's-Fiance-Ashley and Pete-Pete, but instead I found the Vault closed and Pete-Pete like this --

The man is fond of his Santa Gear.

He was dead set on some crazy vodka drink that Azul makes, so downed a few --

And hid in the darkness while another DJ spun some goddamn records. Azul ended up having $10 drinks and being the vodka snob that he is (in a wonderful way), Pete-Pete ordered us a bunch.

He had work the next morning so he had to cut out, and since I got off work early I had been drinking since 2pm, but I didn't let that stop me!

I got a few texts from Jared with stuff like: "Twat. Suppencuche. Now."

Suppencuche is a little German restuarant somewhere in San Francisco. A cab came after I left Pete-Pete and I popped in. When we got to the restaurant the driver had to scream at me for a few seconds because I was slightly passed out trying to text Jared back that I was outside.

I found Jared with a slew of folks drinking in the back. When I got there they decided to get some more drinks.

Like The Boot. A whole shitload of beer. Goddamn. I got a pint that was still about half that size.

Jared took the first sip --

But not to be outdone, Jovie tipped the boot --

Man, there's like 8 inches off that sucker already.

Gavin 2.0 (There's already a Gavin 1 in my small world) took to the boot with some helpful hands.

With about a pint left in the boot, Jared called for a race --

Jared bathed himself in the beauty of his expert drinking ability.

This guy was there, Jason. I know him from elementary school and haven't seen him since freshman year in high school. The dude's tall, right? Damn. Or I'm just short.

Jovie was kind enough to drive me home. I think I passed out in the backseat, or at least I tried not to.

The next morning, Christmas Eve to be exact, was the worse hangover ever. For me at least. I was meeting up with the fam for a little Nutcracker action.

The show was at 4pm and I took a nap after Act I. I mean, after the Nutcracker kills all the mice, there's just a bunch of dancing on an empty stage after that. My mom found it funny that I was sleeping and kept waking me up to tell me so. I was still being an ass from being so hungover, but I couldn't tell her that.

Merry Christmas, Myself.

Almost there.

When the bow breaks.

2005-12-28T12:05:00.000-08:00

The Saturday after Dave's Holiday Party Extravaganza (!) I headed out to Concord to help Matt & Sara do a little moving.

My hungover self couldn't manage to make it out there too early, but I showed up around noon. I tried to do more than just stand around, but moving boxes (and remembering to take pictures) proved too hard after a late night.

***For future reference for friends, I am not an early riser. Making it to a 49ers game by noon is early for me.***

James stuck around after moving, which he did most of because he has a beard and I don't. I'm pretty sure a rule is written somewhere about men with beards work load needing to double to use up all their excess testosterone. I think it's science or something. I'll have to look into that.

See? No one has ever told Michael McDonald, "Pull your weight, man. You're a Doobie Brother with a beard. That's intense."

He didn't write "Takin' it to the Streets" without facial hair. That's a fact.

After the move was done James crawled in the fire place hoping Matt & Sara's son Isaiah would care. He didn't.

But then how can he really compete when daddy's making a fire? Come on! It's fire!

After moving and watching some Miami Vice Marathon -- "Give me da money!" -- I went home.

The next weekend I didn't have any holiday parties to go to, so I made myself useful and tried to find some, or at least have my own private roving party. Yeah, take that. Chris, party of one.

First stop -- The Vault. It's become my first after work stop, so I dropped in to say hello to...well...beer. It was a usually crowded Friday night, and then for whatever reason, Toby jumps on the bar in his tightie whities up his asscrack and his t-shirt worn like a bra. "What?" Exactly. He danced a bit on the bar, shaking his ass and whatnot, and just as it stopped being funny, he kept going. MORE ASS.

Finally he dropped off the bar, did a quick dance and went outside. He came back in fully dressed like nothing happened. I kinda want to think there's was a point, like a bet or something, but actually I prefer it being over nothing. A sudden sober urge. Just a guy in his underpants doing what a guy in his underpants would do.

I got the crap out of there when the wierdness stopped. I wanted more --

So I headed to another usual --

Dave's on 3rd --

Where it just happened to be --

Their Christmas Party! CHA-CHING!

Jane had the night off of bartending --

As did Helen --

Janice? Not so lucky. She had to work her own party.

Helen worked her own party too --

By working that ass --

Dancing and dancing --

While the Stellas flowed and flowed.

Dave's is a slight little bar, not much room. After sitting for awhile I realized I was crazy drunk, and decided to make my way home.

On the Muni I sat behind this girl --

And thought really dirty thougts --

About her goddamn pigtails.

Christmas was on the way.

Which gave me something to think about besides those pigtails --

As I walked the last few blocks home.

Goodnight, myself. See you Christmas.

It happens to the best of us.

2005-12-25T16:46:00.000-08:00

"Merry Christmas, myself."

"Merry Christmas, yourself. Where were you last night?"

"Nutcracker, San Francisco Ballet. Best seats in the house, sucker. In my lap."

"Bravo, bravo."

These are called holidays. This is called a goodtime.

2005-12-22T10:53:00.000-08:00

I have four or five boxes in my closet left to unpack. Three are CDs and the other ones are videos. I have my Wayne's World and Shadow of the Vampire in there. They've been there over a year, and now they have stacks of tee shirts on them. I have no dresser so these boxes are my furniture. I keep thinking, "What about when I move? Always stay ready to go."

I did find my Smashing Pumpkins Mellon Collie & The Infinite Sadness. 28 songs and only a small handful of good ones. Good one, Corgan.

Work on the comic book is coming along.

I found it's a lot easier to work outside of the apartment.

I used to do a lot of work at Dave's before I moved to Las Vegas. It's quiet and warm. Feels like home. The bartenders are all very sweet and don't mind if I come in and feel like getting rowdy or just sit and be alone.

Since I've been back to the Bay Area I haven't really spent as much time there as I did before. Times change, but no matter how long I stay away they remember me. You can't beat that.

Pretty much the method is to read over what I've done and take a bunch of notes, what's missing and what's not working. It's best to be extremely critical and try to tear the work apart until you think it's completely useless. Then you build it back up again. Hopefully stronger.

"I must piss but I cannot. The Gods will fuck me."

There have been long walks once work is done. 5:30 PM hits and the sun is gone.

I try to find people on the streets to smile at, attempt at getting a hello. It happens sometimes, and sometimes not.

And sometimes the streets are empty since everyone else rushes home after work, even if I find it pointless to.

That Friday I went to Dave's apartment for a little get together. Dave and his girlfriend live in some insane building that's about two blocks from SBC park.

Dave warned me, "Have a good time. DO IT NOW!"

My charm soothed his so so serious soul.

A lot of the guests were other Academy of Art kids and other folks Dave and his girlfriend have worked with.

Which meant a lot of dorking out at watching videos and film previews on the computer.

It was a calm evening of wine and food, chatting and catching up. Lots of talk of work, filmwise, and other projects. It was good to be able to talk about film and comic books with some folks that do the same thing. Later we drunk dialed our boy Eric --

And all full of wine jabbered about some bullshit. He's in Nashville filming is zombie movie, that I decided I was completely out of the loop with. I'll see that shit when it's done. Dave and Ed showed the video they made for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! Hopefully it will be hitting the internets with some force soon enough.

And with that I washed my hands and hit the streets --

Said hello to the Mexicans polishing the Hearst Publishing name.

And waited the good ol' N Owl to take my drunk ass home.

Forward and onward. Take it easy, myself. "I will, myself."

This is how we do.

2005-12-15T14:19:00.000-08:00

The after work hours have been filled with more eating and drinking than ever before. Most goes undocumented due to the fact that I enjoy a good secret. The following are not secrets. They are living and breathing moments that I don't mind happening at all.

I met up with Dave for a drink or two at the Vault. We discussed comic books and Full Moon Video movies. He understands the power of a straight to video action film or horror movie. This genre is actually one of my favorites, one that I don't often thing too much about since I consider it a given that I like movies such as Vampire Journals or Terror-Vision.

We were feeling a bit sophisticated after the conversation moved to video games that we dared step foot into Bob's Steak and Chop House on Montgomery Street. I've passed it for years and always saw old men in suits eating huge steaks and carrots and had grown jealous of the activities of the hungry and rich.

I let Dave pick the wine because I know shit about wine. See? I'm a big boy now.

No more pictures here because I chose to not use my flash and this is what happens. Although I wish I had gotten a few pictures of a room full of badasses eating huge steaks and buying the ladies dinner on a Tuesday night. On a Tuesday! That just sounds so great.

"Excuse me, Miss. How about I take you out for a nice steak dinner?"

Fucking awesome.

Friday night me and Matty went to the Vault to listen to Toby's Disco Mix.

We had a few beers --

And Jake's fiance Ashley showed up and showed off her dumb new phone.

Nice phone, Fancy Pants.

But it kinda was a cool phone --

So we took pictures of each other taking pictures of each other.

Then we took a picture of her picture --

And a picture of me with a picture of me after I took a picture of her taking a picture of me.

Yes, we did this on a Friday night at a bar. And yes, it WAS fun.

I had to kill the fun and catch a cab out to Don Ramon's --

Where I met Jonie and we quickly ate and ran out --

To catch Parchman Farm and The Wrens at Slim's.

Crap. Again, I didn't want to be guy with a flash, so all my band shots came out like this.

And this --

Jared stopped by to catch the show, but he chose to sit in the balcony. Huh? Who goes to a show and sits in the balcony? it's all about standing dead center as close as you can. You can sit when you're in HELL!!!

After the show I took a quick number one --

Bought some water --

And hit the streets back to the beach.

I didn't want to wait for a bus (impatient.) I didn't want to get a cab (too poor.) and I didn't want Jonie to drive me home (too out of the way.) I hadn't drank a whole lot and it was only a little after midnight, plus I had a lot of energy --

So I walked.

And walked.

And walked more.

I figured I knew my way and I had a full battery in the iPod. I didn't get lost this time but it did take two hours. What I hadn't realized was that the ocean was 6 miles away up quite a few hills. Boo.

BLAHAHAA! CRABS!

The following Saturday Jared had a crab feed over at his place.

He was the happiest host there ever was!

Taking pictures of people having fun --

And of me taking pictures of him taking pictures of people having fun.

The crabs were that morning's catch.

Jared went out to the wharf to pick them out.

Aww, ain't that sweet?

Everyone --

Took a turn --

Dropping the living crabs into the boiling (and seasoned) water --

While Matt enjoyed watching them die.

Only when the little things tried --

And they did try --

Very unsuccessfully --

Only then was it fun to watch.

See? Have you ever seen more joy than that? Not even puppies and candy can do that.

These two got one last kiss before being cooked alive.

Natalie was kind enough to clean all thirty pounds of crab. "Way to go, dude!"

And also smash their little faces and feetsies.

Then all hell broke loose --

It was a free for all around the table --

I fought it out at Jared's side --

And I think he won.

After the food was all gone Dave decided to drink the juice from the bowl all the crabs were in (Huh?) --

Not to be outdone, Sara drank the "juice" from the bottle all the wine was in.

It's okay, I don't think anyone saw that.

Well, except for Matt who was real proud of his wine guzzlin' wifey.

Outside the MEN were smoking cigars and planning a trip to Las Vegas. I saw Shanna sneaking pictures from above.

And she saw me sneaking pictures of her sneaking pictures.

So after saying goodbye to everyone --

And giving a goodbye kiss to Maude --

Sara said goodbye to Jovie's snake --

And I made my way home.

It was too cold for any bonfires.

Although there were a few. But I was too drunk to care.

I walked along the water and took this picture thinking, "I wonder if my phone is bright enough to light my fat face?" Soon after, a big ol' wave came and splashed salt water all over my lovely phone, but the answer is yes. My phone can light my face. So I can check that off "My List of Unknown Life Questions."

With no more light and no more friends or fires, the night was over.

We will all be all right. PT. II

2005-12-08T18:21:00.000-08:00

Let my boring rain on all! Here's a tale of time passing for no goddamn good reason other than it has nothing else to do.

Tic

Toc

Tic

Toc

Thanksgiving weekend went on and on.

And on --

And on --

I was watched over by these men --

Who hung over the streets --

As the guardian angels of Monterey. I specifically like the Coloniel with the chickens that play tic-tac-toe.

Wandered into the exciting world of John Steinbeck Plaza!

Where there was an empty Segway store!

AND an unrented store front!

Oh, and some old Jim Henson style fisherman that had a loop of fake Steinbeck narration telling tales of boats and crap like that.

It was good and rainy.

Rainy rain rain rain.

Saw a pigeon all wet with rain.

Saw a El Torito's over looking the water, and this isn't it. This is its cousin The Fish Hopper on the shore a few blocks above. Tourists inspire cities so well. So good. So classy.

There was a drive up Highway 1 towards Big Sur --

And since I took this trip solo --

I took along my good friend car. "Hey car! Let's take a picture!"

"Sure, Chris!"

"Thanks, Car!"

"This is the best trip ever!"

VROOM VROOM.

So after a few days of rest and wandering around I made my way home. I did have plans and commitments to keep.

But it was good to forgot all my failed plans and start fresh.

Next trip -- Disneyland! Maybe this time I'll bring some friends along! Fucking A!

Born of natural ingredients. Smooth...

2005-12-06T21:14:00.000-08:00

By now most have seen this --

There's 75 different band references in there. Those eagles flying in the air? Yup. The fucking Eagles. Don Henley and Glen Frey getting their gay bird on. That guy smashing pumpkins? That's Smashing Pumpkins.

And there it is. That's how the game is played.

Here's one that should be in there but isn't --

Natalie done did this up. Fucking hell it's good. I was like, "Shit, did you go to Heald College or the AAC?" That shit is HARDCORE.

Here is mine for the same band --

If anyone can figure out which band this is, I'll do something. Something good or nice. Firstsies in the buffet line. A beer. Make you a taco.

Hats off to you, Natalie. Fucking hats off.

I'll give clues later. Like 20 questions.

"Are there people in the band?"

Yes. Yes there are people in the band. 19 to go.

Keep livin' life in the fast line.

We will all be all right. PT. I

2005-12-04T21:28:00.000-08:00

It was the Monday before Thanksgiving. It was a good day. A good day for beers and Thai food with Jared and Natalie.

All that food, yeah, we ate it. All gone.

I got off early on Wednesday, around noon. Went for a sandwich and a beer at The Vault and who did I meet there? PETE!

But I have no pictures of Pete or The Vault. Just imagine an Irish guy eating a sandwich and drinking a beer, and me doing, well, the same.

Later that night we wandered through North Beach and stopped at his apartment so he could get a jacket? Feed his dog? I don't remember.

But he did have the orignal phone still intact from when his building was built. I made a quick call to Fatty Arbuckle to see when his new picture show was coming out.

We wandered from bar to bar and all I seem to have pictures of is drinking in the bathroom of some place I don't know.

But I gave it a thumbs up.

Shit. I'm a complete moron.

At some point PETE! left me in his neighborhood and since all I knew was that I lived west of his apartment, I headed towards the beach.

Until I couldn't go west anymore.

I found a dead end and the way to the Golden Gate bridge.

I don't live anywhere near the Golden Gate bridge. But as luck would have it --

Down a street --

Past some unknown school --

I found a bike ditched against a tree. I rode it awhile before trashing it down a hill. All I was really doing was riding around even further from my apartment. Whatever the next street was, I went down it. Not a good plan. Funny how being drunk in an empty city just inspires you to wander around, somehow having confidence that you will make it home sometime, because it's bound to happen.

I found a cab and at the time I could have sworn the driver was fucking with me by driving me in the opposite direction of where I told him to go.

"I think you're going the wrong way."

"You said 19th and Judah, right?"

"Yeah, it's the other way."

"Sorry, sir. It's just a few blocks away."

Actually I have no idea what he said and I doubt he called me "sir." Eventually I did make it to my own bed. In the morning I packed and headed to my very own Thanksgiving vacation.

I decided to get out of San Francisco and stay in Monterey for the weekend. Of course this meant ditching my family and going alone, but you do what you gotta do.

Don't be jealous.

2005-11-28T17:02:00.000-08:00

Hurry and get your very own.

No worries, I already got mine.

'Tis the season to be something something.

2005-11-20T21:47:00.000-08:00

Holiday season. Already. Sounds good to me.

The freakin' Kristi Yamaguchi endorsed ice skating rink is up in Justin Herman Plaza. I'll be sure to get skills skating skills up, or just get some skating skills. If little kids can do it, I can. For sure.

Later in the week there was a short commotion on the way to work. Which is the only time I would see a commotion. Or on the way home from work. Or at work if something insane were to happen at work. Work work work.

Worky work.

The Transamerica Building was kinda on fire. It was smoking at least. Five or six fire trucks were hanging outside, a bunch of fireman drinking some coffee, hanging out. Don't know if anything really happened. As far as I know the building is still there.

Good job, fire. Loser.

After the excitement faded, there was a pre-nighout beer in the kitchen --

Before Gavin and I hit the streets with the ladies. We wandered the Marina, where I've never really been. Kinda figured out why. (P.S. The reason is because it sucks. Shh. Told tell.)

We drank through bar and bar, trying to find something interesting. Gavin wanted to hit the Matrix Fillmore, since Grace Slick & Holding Company recorded there. He likes that kinda crap.

They played "Less Than Zero" on the big screen.

And served ten dollar drinks from a darkened bar. Nice place. It was like the Korova Milk Bar in Clockwork Orange, minus the naked lady furniture. If it had that, I don't think we would have left.

After a few more bars and more blocks --

The ladies were kind enough to make me a bed on the couch --

And put a movie on for me before passing out for the night. And like other times, I took the path home in the morning --

I can't seem to sleep well in anyplace besides home. So I left before anyone woke, and took a quick nap when I got home. Gavin had beat me back to the apartment sice he drove, so we barbecued on the fire escape and drank all day.

Courtney came out and we all had a quiet Saturday eating and drinking. I was still a bit hungover from Thursday and Friday, but I made it happen. I also made some potato salad that pretty much blows minds. Take that fucking Martha Stewart.

Wait? Does she even make potato salad? Whatever. If she did, we could party together. me and Martha eating potato salad and just drinking the days away, telling stories like, "Hey, Chris. Remember that we ate potato salad and drank Stella's all day?"

"Yeah, Martha. Good times."

Sunday I found my car covered in bird shit and sand. I don't drive too much, only when I head out to Concord to see the parents. Like today! Check out the awesome missing hubcap! Sweet ride, myself!

But before I took off I found this guy with a parrot on his shoulder. I tried being friendly, saying hello and smiling, but he got all shy. How can you be shy if you have a fucking parrot on your shoulder? I never realized parrots meant "pensive & introspective."

Anyway, I made my way --

To my Dad's in Clayton.

I think I have been in the city too long. I've been restless and whatnot. It felt good to see my hometown, even for a little bit.

It was Sunday so my Dad was watching the 49ers lose. He gets a little grumpy when his team loses.

Which the Niners have been doing often. It used to bother me when he'd get all snappy because of missed field goal or dropped pass, but now I find it sweet and funny. At least now I'm old enough to understand what the fuck is going on rather than just saying, "Yup. That's a bummer, Dad."

So after seeing Dad I drove to see if my Mom was home.

She wasn't even around. I called her to find out that she was taking a state real estate course in Oakland. That's why my mom kicks fucking ass. She's just hanging one day thinking, "It would be cool if I could be a real estate agent in my off time." Then she does. She also go her x-ray technician's license. I haven't really seen that one come in handy yet though.

With divorced parents this is how it works. If you come into town to see one, the other will be hurt if you don't stop in. This can lead to some bad news. But with Mom out doing her thang, on my way back to SF I decided to swing by my old schools.

This is where the 'rents pick up the kiddies. They can't go left but can only go left. Huh?

Mt. Diablo Elementary is under a mile from my Dad's house so I used to ride my bike to school.

I forgot how small everything is in elementary school. The little picnic tables would actually qualify as "lil". Maybe even "twee."

Here's da Teacher's Lounge. This always kinda freaked my out. Teachers lounging? How? It wasn't until The Simpsons that I realized, "Oh, they just take a break from kids and eat yogurt."

Oh! The magical library! We'd sit in a circle on the carpet and the librarian guy would read us stories. My favorite was always Sideways Stories From Wayside School. That shit was good.

Goodbye, Mt. Diablo Elementary! See you in HELL!

Down the street from the elementary school is the middle school. I used to rid my bike there from home too.

Pine Hollow Middle School is one magical land.

It also happens to be Mustang country.

Pride, Spirit, and Responsibility. Eat your fucking heart out ironic Nappy D Pegasus!

There was this time when I was in the 7th grade and an 8th grade girl thought I was cute, so after school all of these guys that liked her stole my Minnesota Vikings hat. What sucked was my Dad was right there in the parking lot to pick me up. I don't know why he didn't just knock the guys the fuck out. What are Dad's for if not to pound anyone that messes with their offspring?

Next up, only a little bit down the street from Pine Hollow --

Clayton Valley High School!

href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2631/1575/1600/DSC01532.jpg">

Huh? This is new. Go Eagles, I guess?

There was basketball game going on in the gym --

As well as basketball practice outside.

And the poor courts I played tennis on when I was on the team have pretty much gone to shit. They always were, but this is ugliness over here.

I decided to get the hell out of town, and make my way home.

The sun was going down, and there's nothing worse (yes there is) than being in Concord all day without doing ANYTHING. I always like to have a few beers Sunday night before the week starts.

But I really guess there was no rush --

There was plenty of traffic --

Which gave me time to take a few pictures of these things.

I heard they were George Lucas's inspiration for the AT-ATs in Empire Strikes Back.

And I was almost home --

They don't got billboards in the 'burbs like this.

Or ghost children waving from the back of SUVs.

So there it is, and there it is.

Show some pride you wee bit!

2005-11-15T16:24:00.000-08:00

My interest has been growing in my background lately. I've always just known my Momma's a Mexican and my Dadda always said he was Bohemian, you know, from Bohemia before it became part of Czechoslovakia.

See? A fucking map!

When I was a lil' kid and I would tell teachers and the whatnot where I was from and I'd mention, "Well, my Dad's family is Bohemian." They'd laugh. I guess since it no longer exists and when it did it was merely a footnote in history. A place where various tribes lived and really didn't share a culture. Blah blah blah.

Anyways --

This has been making the rounds on Ebay for awhile --

And I figured, "Hey! I'm Czech (sort of)! I can totally wear that with sincerity! No irony involved!" But they're all being sold from Europe and the shipping & exchange rate makes it about $100.

So I checked the Adidas site --

They're to commemorate the Czech Republic's soccer team appearance in the 1970 World Cup. They might make it this year if they can beat Norway, but that's about the extent of knowledge of Czech soccer, or World Cup soccer, or soccer in general.

When I want to be a part of a place I always look to the sports teams. In Los Angeles I focused on the Trojans, in San Francisco the Giants & 49ers, in the East Bay the A's, and when I lived in Las Vegas I just appropriated the Padres. I think sports are supposed to mean something. A way to connect...ah shit. This is really about a fucking jacket. So if someone asks, "What? Are you Czech?" I can say, "Eat my fuck." But then say, "Yes."

Well, these puppies are $75, but all OUT OF STOCK.

So three things can be going on --

01. They were all bought and are now being sold on Ebay (Duh)
02. Tons of fakey Czechs bought them instead of pretending to be Irish. Come one, who wouldn't?
03. The 1970 Czech soccer team bought them all

Or a mixture of all three. Man. The first time I can wear something that I might have an actual connection too (Yes, I'm not from Minnesota, I know) and they're all gone.

But there's always this --

Viva Mexico Y Czech Republico!

Forever young, I want to be.

2005-11-13T18:02:00.000-08:00

The thing about working in the real world is there is no school to change the schedule. Everyday is set the moment you get your diploma. 9-5 Monday - Friday has its advantages. Um. You get paid steady. Other than that, any spontaneity has to be self-made.

Early in the week I met up with Dave, a buddy from school. We hit up Spec's and moved on to dinner at Pinochio's. Since I hadn't seen Dave in awhile, I didn't take any pictures of him. I save picture taking for those times I'm not catching up with people. Which leaves me with tons of pictures of walls.

See? Here are the walls of Spec's.

YAY!

Along those same lines, me & Matty shook things up at the Vault for the regular beer and Chili Cheese Fries.

Matty's very pensive about Chili Cheese Fries it seems.

What he is not at all pensive about is going to Dave's to load up the sweet sweet sound of Alphaville's "Forever Young" (our song, you know.) and playing air synth.

I really can't seem to go to Dave's without playing that song on the jukebox.

The only thing left to do was hit the alleyways --

Listen to some Whitesnake on the pirate skull man'd boombox --

And hit the McDonald's for some Big Mac action.

Then something caught our eyes once inside --

Hmm?

Chicken Little? What the fuck are you doing? The sky is falling so you wanna eat it?

Well, Matty does too --

And so do I. Plus you can see my Teri Hatcher style crooked nostrils. Gross.

See? Crooked nostrils. How is Teri Hatchetface considered attractive? But I guess I shouldn't say anything if I'm saying I look like her.

Damn.

Boss Nass + Teri Hatchetface = Me.

Whatever. I can live with that. But can you, Teri Hatcher? Can you?

Keeping with the line of thinking, after work Friday led me out again --

I made my way downtown. Just to end up back where I started --

Got on a late night 38 --

Dropped off at the top of 48th --

And followed the coast home.

The street was empty --

The Cliff House was dry as well --

And the wind was coming in quick --

What is that? A full moon?

So the week ends in a spurt of dull work days and forced drunken nights.

And now the weekends over, and I can't wait for Monday to start again.

Other times, we're nameless.

2005-11-08T11:37:00.000-08:00

***NOTE: I've been messing with my camera settings, trying to be able to take pictures without the flash, because when the flash goes off somewhere dark, like say a bar, everyone turns around like, "Wha?" I'm still working on it. So unless I start hanging out during the day at a light bulb store, this is what I got.***

Set out to Beale Street were Gavin booked some bands. Saw Mike play, who I hadn't heard before. Good stuff. I had a few beers and left. I didn't really stick around since I felt like wandering for awhile.

I've been restless lately, doing more aimless walking that anything. I don't know why. I have a few projects I'm working on at home, but none I seem to be able to focus on. I wandered the Embarcadero and whatnot when Jared called up from some bar.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at -----"

"What?"

"I-- -- a"

I can't hear you."

"I'M AT VULVA."

What? Vulva? Whatever. Hopped in a cab and found Jared & Co. warm in their own drunkeness.

Here's John and Natalie! Hoorah! They were hanging out with some East Bay folks, and when I saw Jared he was trying to talk to John by screaming, "HEY DUDE! AH, HEY DUDE!" So I yelled back at him and smacked him upside the head. He smacked me back and we laughed and laughed, but I don't think drunken hittings go over well with strangers. Sorry, East Bay Strangers!

The bar, Dalva (not Vulva, but it would be pretty sweet to go to a bar called Vulva. Although it'd probably be a gay bar. Like if you went somewhere called, I don't know, The Ball Shop or something) had this HUGE screen playing some movie with Ringo Starr and a boat full of topless women rowing. That's all I remember. Yup. Just the boobies. And Ringo Starr.

Here's poor Jared nursing his freshly smacked brain. Sorry, brah!

After that another bar then the long walk home.

I cut through some gated church/school. It was sort of a Rambo move, I admit. Pushing through the bars and walking through the courtyard. Bitch had security cameras and barbed wire! You know, that's how I do what I do.

Yeah, but then I got a donut and coffee at All-Star Donuts and walked the 50+ blocks home to the beach. The water is out there somewhere. Somewhere...

The best move for these late night walks home is singing along to the iPod. No one minds. I get requests all the time.

"You don't know me but I'm your brother..."

I finally made it home around 3:30am and took some pictures with our newly purchased Christmas lights. Christmas gear is out before Thanksgiving? Yup. Walgreens makes it happen.

Anyway, I was trying to do those poses like in old religious paintings. Ones where Jesus is doing something cool, like holding a jug of water or something, but in the background all the other guys are standing around with their arms like they're talking but they're always really stiff --

Here's my, "How's the family? Really? That old already? Oh my, they sure grow up fast don't they?"

Here it is in context, you know, when the Virgin Mary is hanging with Baby Jesus and I'm all, "Huh, what do you know, the Baby Jesus."

Actually, I think I used one of these as my myspace band photo. Because nothing says complete loser like taking pictures of yourself AND using them on myspace. God, I'm horrible.

Good night, myself. Go to sleep already.

...for his nostalgic tale.

2005-10-30T21:24:00.000-08:00

Hoorah! Hoorah! Another 49ers game! Me and Matty prepared this time. Got there early. Brought a football. I remembered sunglasses so I wouldn't burn my eyes out. With beer and the whatnots --

Our tailgate was on!

"Matty? Got yer sunblock this time?"

Eek. Yup. Looks like it.

Our tailgate was pretty minor compared to the others. We had no grill and no meat. We were the only guys NOT in 49er apparel. But we did stop off at Safeway and got some chicken wings and corndogs. (FYI: I luv corndogs.)

Oh, and Matt bought bleu cheese dressing for the chicken wings. I was going for the ranch, but he claims it's too "mayonaise-like." MAYONAISE. Matty's weakness.

Oh, dear. There was this couple behind us "tailgating," or whatever they called it. This was a stealth move to get the magic down. 2 bottles of wine, cheese and sliced apples. Plus, the dude's in a turtleneck and sandals and they brought out that wooden table and carpet. Huh?

We had the sweetest seats. We were right where the players do what they do, you know, coming on and off the field. Stuff like that.

Sports. Yeah, I know tons about it.

Here's the boys off the field after practice --

Then back on through the ginormous inflatable helmet!

We also happened to be close by, not on purpose, but by chance --

The goddamn CHEERLEADERS! What?!

You can kind of see the action from here, as long as it stays in the endzone. Mostly you just watch the Jumbo-Tron and the, um, well, the cheerleaders. Nice girls, each and every one.

Yup. More cheerleaders. They really dig smiling.

See?

This guy in front of us was straight up taking pictures of the cheerleaders the whole game. At least I did it a bit undercover. Or as undercover as I could being a foot away.

Another cheerleader.

Yay! Here's me and Matty!

The starting QB for the 49ers was Ken Dorsey rather than rookie kid sensation Alex Smith from Utah State (or university? Academy? I don't know.) The kid's real good at getting sacked and intercepted, and his ease with hand-offs is pretty much unchallenged in all of the NFL, but so far he can't throw worth a crap. Anyway, A. Smith was out with an injury, you know, because it hurts to suck so bad.

Matt was all, "Where's the Mormon kid?"

"Um, excuse me?"

This dude next to Matt kinda smiled/cringed.

"Yeah?"

"He's not Mormon."

"Well, he went to BYU." My dumbass loser logic pieced that together.

"Actually he went to Utah. I went to Utah. I'm From Utah. He's not a Mormon."

"Sorry."

"If you had said that about me it would have been true."

Crap. They were nice boys in town from UTAH and wanted to check out their college quarterback in all of his NFL glory. But, he doesn't have any.

So I went back to looking at the cheerleaders. Cheering them on in their cheers.

"All right! Good job, ladies!"

Something tells me she was my favorite. I have about thirty pictures of her. This one's the best, she's all halfway in the air checking me out in her Wonder Woman boots.

That's right, checking ME out. She's looking right at me. Right?

Cody Pickett came in to QB in the 4th quarter. This was the best part of the game. In our section everyone started chanting, "CODY! CODY! CODY!" The cheerleaders were all, "Huh? Who's Cody?" I took them awhile to remember their own 3rd string quarter, another rookie sensation from years ago from Miami.

And here she is again.

"CODY! CODY! CODY!" You would think with all that support he'd throw the ball, do something kinda cool like dodge tacklers, point to the end zone and dive like 5 yards, but nope. Hand-off hand-off hand-off.

It was good to have you around Rookie Sensation Sr!

After the game the players poured back into their dugout, or whatever football teams pour into. I was waiting for Cody so I can go, "CODY!" one more time, but I missed him. But I got this choice shot of the elusive Alex Smith in his casual gear. He's the blurry blonde kid in khaki.

Actually, I'm rooting for him. "Go get 'em, Alex! Bury 'em with yer magic!"

Bring me back something French!

2005-10-29T18:57:00.000-07:00

So many days pass. Little things happen. The smallest of events. The first of these was game one of the World Series.

Matty and I hit The Charro for margaritas and baseball. Some players hit some balls and then caught them, if you can believe it. There was something more important to get to this night.

We met up with Matty's wife, Sara --

And she found an assload of empty bottles in a truck parked in the beauty of Walnut Creek.

And, um, Matt found this tree. Sweet tree.

By the way, no worries but I think there's actually four. FOUR SEASONS. No worries though.

I've known Matt and his family since high school and later we met up with his lil' brother Dan and his special lady friend. I hadn't seen this kid since he was twelve, so I didn't take his picture. "You can keep your magic lil' Dan."

Matt enjoys his constipation and opted for an espresso while I represented the Ol' Czech Republic with the Pilsner Urquell.

I'd bet Matt's thinking about poo.

With no photos of lil' Dan, there's no magic here. He's got it all in his boystache.

Goodnight, East Bay! Buenos Noches, Dillhole!

Segue to later that week -- World Series over and it's time for Gavin and I to meet up with some beers and surf rock at the Park Chalet --

But first a pre-walk beer --

A darkened bar --

A cold and dark patio --

And a nitecap.

This was all a warm-up for Friday. It was Gavin's girlfriend's house warming.

Huh? Why's Gavin all in the corner?

Oh, because this guy's trying to get these girls to pose for some pictures. He was all, "Be a cat! Show me some claws! HA HA HA!" Really? For serious? I think he even did that thing where you use your fingers to frame a shot blah blah blah.

Yup. I think Gavin's face pretty much gets it right. Actually, the guy was super nice. I guess I'm jealous of his ability to walk into a room a strangers and be all, "Tada! Here's myself!" See. I'm the guy taking pictures of the guy taking pictures.

I wanted to be him so much I followed him around taking pictures of the different girls there --

um, and then my flash gave me away. FLASH! Still, he was a really nice guy. No hard feelings, Brah! I'm the asshole!

I found a framed picture of Gavin and his special lady. It's really fucking cute. ADORABLE. And I'm like, "I shouldn't be here. What the fuck am I doing here?" You know, that feeling of being somewhere that has NOTHING to do with you. Yup. That's kind of where I'm at a lot the time.

So after I got over it and stopped looking at my shoes (Hey, sweet shoes.) --

I found the time to take this disgusting picture of myself but with the beautiful hostess, Francesca!

And Tae showed up!

And JAMES!

From here the party moved to a bar down a few blocks. Things got a bit out of hand. I can't remember.

Yeah, what is this? Something inside of the bar. A sea captain? Banana?

Dancing?

Okay. This is dancing? I think? I'm sure that's people in there.

Back to this mess. Shit. I need to master my camera. Or at least stop snapping pictures in the dark with the flash off while I'm dancing. And drunk. Actually if you can make this out, it's a blurry me and the "real nice guy" who was taking pictures. I guess we hung out?

Goodnight, myself.

You only live once forever.

2005-10-18T16:32:00.000-07:00

Due to illness, I was stuck in bed most of the weekend. I had doctor visits and the like all week. My stomach has been killing me. Swords and knives kind of pain. Dagger and glass-like.

When Saturday night came I got a phonecall from Jared. He offered some information that made me give in and get out of the beddy bed.

"DeYoung's grand opening tonight at midnight. The place is going to be open 24 hours! All weekend! DJ's are going to be spinning and the whatnots!"

***not a direct qoute, just an approximation. My memory fails me on most details.***

Except for this. "The Heartshaped Booty."

Hmmm. That DO NOT ENTER sign is a pure coincidence.

Okay. Just wanted a closer look.

Gavin needed to explain to Natalie the essence of "The Heartshaped Booty." He's a real good explainer.

You finally make your way to the DeYoung and what do you find greeting you? Hoorah! A line has formed! Sweet.

But what's a long line without people randomly standing aroud staring at stuff? That's no line at all I tell you.

We broke through the circle and followed the glow and music ---

Closer?

Almost. What is that?

Oh, you mean this? Just a fuckin' bike with a stereo on the back! Yup. A bike. With a stereo. Pumping some dancey type jams. Someone was dancing but I didn't take a picture of it. I mean, she didn't even use her arms. Crazy.

This was kind of a big deal. Big ol' blue and yellow thing on the ground. I mean, it was important enough to bring out the garage lights like yer checking under the hood. Gotta always check under the hood. You know, for leaks and the whatnot.

Anyway, this line was huge. If a line is a thing, this line was a mountain. Or a canyon. A plain. After two and half hours I cut out. My tummy was killing me and my back was caving in from pain. Yeah. I'm just a wuss.

Rokktober coming fire.

2005-10-10T13:01:00.000-07:00

Drink drink drink. Another Friday night, but this time it's "friends from high-school plus significant others" 2.0. Here we are back to the Rohan where the soju runs and the edamame are wok fried. Maybe not in a wok, but definately fried. Or seared. Whatever.

See. Here's "Karl."

Wait. What's that Karl?

"This beer's as big as my head!"

Nice. Good work there, Karl.

But Jared's gonna ram it down your tonsils. Them's the breaks.

We had a dance party. Or, I had a dance party. By myself. Good job, myself. Apparently I use my arms a lot in my dances. Sweet.

The night quickly crumbled as Jared ran up a $100 bar tab for soju alone. That's not the beers and other cocktails. Soju = bad news bears.

We decided to call it a night once the bill was seen. Being drunk doesn't mean you forget about being poor. Our friendly bartender offered Jared and I a goodbye treat. More FUCKING SOJU.

So with these last shots down in my belly --

We said our goodbyes.

He was kind enough to take our Prom portrait too. Sweet, brah.

Uh oh. Where's Karl?

I don't remember him leaving. Or where we found him leaning against this wall.

A car drove up and Jared threw him inside.

"Who was that?"

"I don't know, I recognized a face though."

Fair enough.

***Amendment I: Some of the above pictures were taken by whoever had my camera at the moment. And yes, Jared took the top three (greatest photos ever, oh my GOD!). Also, I didn't take all those pictures of myself. Someone else found me deserving of the FLASH. Most likely because I'm an idiot.***

***Amendment II: Some name(s) were changed for the hell of it. Fuck. I might just change them all, and I get first pick. I'll tale SUPERMAN. Oh, wait. Mmm. I'll be Hall of Famer Kirby Puckett. Shit. He's a wife beater. Damn. Hank?***

Saturday. Took the Mom out for a night on the town. Dinner and the opera.

There's a no camera rule, which is fine. We saw Handel's Rodelinda and it wasn't that great. The staging was horrible. It was modernized into a 1940s noir and they didn't pull it off. Very dull and empty. Overall it just lacked any sense of imagination. I've dug my other visits to the SF Opera, but this time...eh.

So Sunday was me and my Dad. His baby boy took him out to Candlestick.

My Dad's been a Niner fan forever and this was his first time at a football game. So I guess you could pretty much say I'm the greatest bestest son ever.

The Marines came out and did the National Anthem. Or Star Spangled Banner? The one that goes, "America, America, God something something on thee..." Yeah. They did that one. Dad got a bit misty. He digs patriotism and the military.

Then the motherfuckin' fireworks came! Aww shit!

This dude held this shirt up every play. Fack the Colts? Whatever. Him and his suburban hip-hop frat bros were trying to start fights and pick up chicks. They failed at both.

Then the Niners went on to lose 28-3. Nice one, boyz. Alex Smith in his NFL starting debut got intercepted, sacked, blah blah blah. More football stuff that I forget.

Among the beer, football, and booing, Dad asked me if I was dating anyone. You know, cuz I'm getting old. My last girlfriend was a year ago. Where's the damn grandkids and knowledge of my everlasting seed? I told him I'd get a mail-order bride when the time came. Or I could always cruise junior colleges for freshman. I got plans, Dad. No worries.

After a weekend with the parents I was feeling a bit down.

Then I got home after the game and watched this documentary on little people. It was about how they cope in a big man's world. I was like, that's my world! I'm A BIG MAN! That made me feel good. The documentary focused on how little people find other little people to, you know, FUCK, and they visited all these organizations where little people meet. I was like, "Can't they all just get mail-order brides? Why they gotta be different all the time?"

Blight, sorrow, and disconnect. Hey! It's Friday!

2005-09-30T10:56:00.000-07:00

It started as a late Friday at work.

With a quick train ride home.

In order to take a quick walk to the Safeway so me and the roommate could fill our pockets with beer.

To enjoy the sweet juice that is Sapporo to keep us warm on the beach.

What's that off in the distance?

That my friend is a sweet bonfire. Perfect for Gavin's freestyle harmonica playing. He's just a lonely man searching for accompaniment.

Out of fifteen bonfires we struck GOLD. These churchie folks with some guy and a guitar. He was laying it down for these ladies. Some Creedence. Some John Cougar. Showing off his sensitive side. I mean, come on. Check out that light blue jean jacket and salon created mop. This guy's making his own vagina moist. Gavin felt no worries jumping into the circle to see if the guy wanted to jam.

Then he took a goddamn seat and tried to get the guy to play some blues.

"Yeah, just hit an E."

strumstrumstrum.

"No, man. Like a train, doom-dee-doom-dee-doom."

strumstrumstrumstrum.

"All right, what can you play? you know some songs? What's in those books."

"Jack and Diane."

"Huh?"

It didn't take long for us to over stay our welcome. Because our welcome was nil.

After taking the bus and roaming bars, this is how the nights ends. Random bathroom I don't recognize. Shit.

After the rough night Gavin mustered the energy for a goodnight song for the walk home.

Another night saved from watching One Crazy Summer and eating nachos. God Bless Sapporo and God Bless shy church folk with guitars just waiting for dicks like us to ruin their chances of getting laid.

In the twilight of our youth.

2005-09-20T21:04:00.000-07:00

Shit. What's this? Baseball? My after work activities are looking a bit predictable. Wait, there's no drinking. That's right. It's different. Completely. It was Mr. Flishy's 45th birthday. It was so sad. See, it says so right there on the JumboTron.

Bonds is back. Still. He hit his first home run, but Matty and I were still crossing the street. Safely. Holding hands. Looking both ways. Reflective footwear. We don't mess around with safety. We take it for serious. FOR SERIOUS.

So, anyways.

This little boy on the JumboTron was chosen to do the announcer's job during the fifth inning. He was all, "And now up Randy Winn." I'm sure his parents were clap clapping out of sheer happiness.

Baseball. That's how it goes. I was still tired from Tuesday's game and Tuesday's night of drinking. And Monday's night of drinking. And Sunday's.

Saturday's too. Possibly Friday's. Actually, definately Friday's.

Matty hates the Giants but he was nice enough to cheer. He does enjoy a good cheer. We'd hate to get boo'd by those fiesty San Franciscans.

Game over and here's Matty giving a smile. Give that smile, Matty. What is that? A red jacket? Burgundy? The Phillies? God bless the Phillies. God bless John Kruk and Lenny Dykstra.

By the way, Matt's from Concord California. Yeah, Philadelphia is a long way away from Concord. Were talking some good miles.

And now on to Saturday which just happened to be my birthday. 28. Twenty-eight years old. I'm still simmering on that one.

The roommate and I started the night off with a sweet bus ride. Happy birthday, myself!

Who's the sad boy on the bus? Who is it? Oh, that's Gavin because I'm doing fucking good here. I don't know his problem.

I took a quick detour into a dark alley. The darkness was good since I was whipping out my ding-dong to go pee pee.

Jacob was good enough to snap this important photograph that proves I know how to use a phone. Good job, Jake. God, who do I look like? It's on the tip of my tongue. Tip-of-my-tongue --

That's right, that's it. Boss Nass from Episode I. Boss Fucking Nass.

Courtney and Sara stuck around all night like the good friends they are. Not too sure what they're laughing about though.

Me and Matty were too busy slow dancing to our song "Forever Young" to pay attention to the ladies. Yeah, we have a song. It was our junior prom theme song, now it's our theme song of LIFE. It's very moving.

Once more, minus heart & soul.

2005-09-14T10:11:00.000-07:00

Another day, another game.

The ships were in.

The kayaks and boats waited for homeruns that never came.

They had reason to wait, the Old Man was back in town. Fresh knee'd and all.

Barry's first at bat. Everyone standing, cheering and screaming. They played a short video before the game full of slow motion homeruns and kisses to God. Fireworks. The point was driven into the crowd.

Barry Bonds is good at baseball.

No shit.

Out in the bleachers are view was limited the fat back of number 25, so with a quick phone call Jared arranged for some new seats. He's connected. Don't know how, don't know why. The numbers stored in his phone can bring a man anything.

Like a champ he got us Club Level seats, with a fixins table of lettuce and tomatoes. Huh?

I scored some Whoopie Pies from the guy downstairs. He was from Boston and remembered Jared wearing a Red Sox hoodie to a previous game. Doesn't really seem like I'm pulling my weight for the team.

Club Level bathroom. The line was way better than the non-club level bathroom lines.

Outside we caught some post-game action.

"What is that?"

"A beer bottle."

"A head stand on a beer bottle?"

"In fishing boots."

"Shit, he is wearing fishing boots. And they're covered in bird poo."

Not to be outdone, Jared did this. Whatever it is. He did it. A performance to the great Juan Marichal statue who watched over us.

Goodnight, sweet after work Giants game. And good night to you Barry Bonds. Even with your 1 for 3 with a strike-out, walk, and single (then got a pinch runner? Wuss) it's good to have you back.

Juan Marichal is watching over us all.

Come all ye, NAVY SEALS.

2005-09-11T20:44:00.000-07:00

There was a game.

Some plays were good.

Some cheers were good.

Then something fell from the sky.

Shit. What the crap?

Oh, that? How about the mother-crappin' NAVY SEALS!

"Oh, Yeah! Give me that!"

"Oh? You mean this?"

"The best high five ever!"

I don't even know those guys, they just loved giving high fives. High fives all around, except for me. Whatever. Niners won 28-25. So take that, myself.

Even at a football game I manage to get my Jesus in. I love you, Jesus.

Reunited and it feels so awesome.

2005-09-10T20:53:00.000-07:00

Who got drunk last night? Well, it could've been anyone. Or me. Wait. It was me. Drinky von drink drink. Soju all around. Asahi. Garlic edamame.

Myself does up myself's fridays in style.

Wait? Water and beer? Who's this wuss? Shit. That's me.

That's a little better. But somethings missing --

Oh, that's right. Gay. It was missing some gay. G-A-Y.

Hmm. Lost the gay. Wait. Where did this girl come from? Oh, that's right. She was sitting next to us and with wit and charm Jared made us a new friend. Or actually made himself a new friend. She didn't talk to me. Slut.

Side note. Really it's a full note. That guy, Jared, I've known him since the fourth grade. I hadn't seen him since we graduated high school when he used a rubber band to strap his cap to his head. I googled the crap out of his name and found him. We call that resourcefullness. Okay. Full note is over. Just had to reach a compliment to myself. Good one, myself.

Couple of potty shots. The toi-toi. Very green. Green indeed. Prompts the urethra.

"Driving, eh?"

"Yup."

"Cool."

"Yup."

"Driving. Good times. Hey, what's this were listening to?"

"Oh this? Just a little something..."

"Called mother fuckin' JANE'S ADDICTION!'

When I got home I found all this trash just lying around. Come on, who's crazy enough to just leave all of this great trash just sitting there?

And not stop to take a nap? Crazy bastards.

World Series of life. Game one.

2005-09-09T13:06:00.000-07:00

Handshake. Handshake. "We meet at last. Nice to meet you, Homeland."

"The pleasure is mine, Lil' Big Fat. Maybe we can meet for a drink?"

"Sure, and if all goes well, we can hang out in you're neck of the woods."

"Yeah, but try ignore the cheap sex and smuggling. It doesn't look good for us."

"It's okay. If anyone gets pregnant, I'll just stay and make sure my kids get a good education."