FOOOOOOD!

So, one great thing about being a BIG city for a while is the variety of foods.

Except for breakfast, which comes with the hotel stay, I've only eaten food that I can't get at home. (Things in the cold case at the supermarket don't count.)

I don't often eat out and the variety is so much fun.

One more full day surrounded by too much humanity.

Here's to delicious survival.

I've always been yucky!

I made sure to have dinner well and on the way to being completed by the time The Mother got back from work tonight: chicken was salted and sitting; rice and water was ready and waiting; and the macaroni (noodle? pasta?) salad was in the fridge so flavors could mingle. Today was her first day of school with students. It was rough.

Going to work every day to a job you hate, or are just tired of, or burnt out on is tough. I know because I do that, but the longest I've ever been away from my work was 16 days and it was painful to go back to my job. I don't want to imagine how hard it is for someone to go back after sixty days.

So, I was a good son and made dinner. I also cleaned up dinner. I also choose what we watched while eating dinner, but that was purely selfish. (Apollo from the new Battlestar Galactica co-starred in it.) I didn't mind doing it and I'm always willing to help make dinner, lunch, whatever (I like to cook), I hate being the decider for everyone. I hate it so much. I know it won't be expected of me, but I live in irrational fear.

Oh, "great" and "powerful" "mystical" forces of the "universe," help me to settle my job bullshit once and for all so I'm comfortable enough that I can sign a year long lease. I would appreciate it.

Also, to swing this post in a startlingly different direction, I'm trying to plan a trip to Oregon. At this moment I think a flight up there and a car rental for a weekish and extra stuffs would cost me about $1000. But I'd get to spend some time with those who moved to the hipster place and then head out to see sister-in-law and brother and their baby at there new place. And I could drag brother and niece, since SIL would probably be in school, to the cheese factory and the plane exhibit and generally goof around. I also want to visit other brother and other sister-in-law and use their proximity to go to the Paley Festival. Which to choose? Could I do both? Unfortunately, any plans have to be based around the job bullshit, so like February or March, if I'm lucky.

I've never been lucky, though.

BALTIMORE!

I'm going to Baltimore! (In October.) I'll be visiting with my brother and his girly-friend for more than a week. I'm going to spend a day or two in Washington DC. I'll tour the Capital building and think it would be fun to play Representative bingo. I won't tour the White House because it requires a group of ten or more to do it for free, and I sure as hell don't know ten people over there.

My brother wants to spend a few days in New York and maybe stand in line to see the Daily Show taped.

Also, there's a comic con in Baltimore which I'm going to hit and probably drag those other two with me to at least one of the two days.

I want to have some authentic Southern BBQ. (Maryland's not that far from the Carolinas, right? There should be some good pulled pork and/or ribs there, right?)

I want to visit Charm City Cakes and take a smell.

The psychiatrist I speak to on a semi-regular basis says I need things to look forward to. Here's a big one.

Only 4 Hours Vacation

Due to an odd holiday schedule, I will be in Cowtown from Februrary 12th, probably around noonish, through February 16th.

Other than laundry, I have nothing to accomplish.

How I Remember the Trip to Oregon

I packed everything up Sunday afternoon and moved it down to my car. The plan was to get back from work on Monday, pee, change my shirt, and leave around 5:30 to head to the hotel near Cowcity. My mom called to confirm what time they were leaving Cowtown. Dad said that they were leaving at 4PM, which was great because it takes them between 60 and 90 minutes more to reach Cowcity than it takes me.

When I got to my apartment on Monday I saw my answering machine flashing and hoped it was just a wrong number. It was my mom. She called just before five to let me know that they hadn't left yet; that someone was still packing. I stomped around my apartment for a while before heading off to the toilette and then to get a clean shirt. After changing I picked up my phone and called the parent's cell phone to find out where they were. They were maybe 25 minutes away from their house. I hung up, stomped around some more, then settled in front of the TV to watch, and sing a long with, Sweeney Todd. I didn't really pay attention, though. I was antsy. After thirty, or so, minutes I got up, put on my sweatshirt and headed out.

The drive was easy, traffic wasn't bad. When I got the motel my parents' car wasn't there, so I looked for a pay phone to call 'em. Got a hold of them and was told they'd be there in 15 minutes. I went to the Wendy's across the street to get some junk grub and wait. Thirty-ish minutes later, they were pulled into the parking lot and waved to me.

The motel was okay, but no one seemed to sleep very well. I blame it on the pillows. I don't like pillows that are so fluffy they make me sit up in bed or are so soft that when you put your head in the center it sinks and the two parts of the pillow to the left and right fluff up above you ears and get really hot. So, although the alarm and wake-up call were set to happen at 4, we were all up at 3:30 and ready to go by 4.

The airport was easy, but what else should one expect at 4:30 in the morning? We sat and waited until we could board. Then we boarded, which was a bit odd because we actually walked out onto the tarmac and walked up a ramp to the plane's door. I had an easterly window, so I watched the sun rise, sort of, as we flew. The sun was bright red as we came down into Portland. It was quite chilly, to me, when we got off the plane, only 39 degrees. Also, the flight time, a little over an hour, was shorter than my drive to Cowcity the night before.

We got our rental car and headed out of town going west to take the North Coast Highway (Which is Highway 101. In California, we call Highway 1 the Pacific Coast Highway.) We drove though hills and saw some great trees. I thought, based on the trees and other foliage that we were about 5000 feet above sea level, but the signs we saw showed we weren't ever much above 2000 feet. The river that flowed along the road was colored aqua, instead of the slime green of California’s rivers, and I counted at least five waterfalls pouring into it.

Breakfast was had a ways outside Tillamook, where the cheese is from, at a place called Alice's Country Restaurant, or something like that, so I hummed my way through the food. We smelled many cows, but didn't stop by the dairy for free samples. We did, however, stop at an old blimp hanger from WWII and looked at a bunch of planes. (They even had a MiG-17 and an F-14! And most of the planes are in working condition.) The hanger was built of wood and was about 200 feet tall, 300 feet wide, and 1000 feet long. It was amazing, but so very cold. The front door was open and the wind was a howlin'.

Tillamook was where we turned south and drove along the coast, sort of. It seemed like there were long periods of time when we were far from the coast. My parents and I chatted. We mocked the town that's called Hebo (I decided that it was founded by homosexual Jews). We pulled over in some other town to stretch and look out at the ocean and watch the birds fight and poop.

Eventually, we made it to my brother's house. We met the dog and the kitten. We toured the house. We drove to brother's girlfriend's school and toured her classroom. (She teaches kindergarten.) We saw the 'Bucks my brother works at and had the good pizza place pointed out to us. They all ate lentil soup for dinner, I had a sandwich with leftover chicken and cheese and pickles. We talked and eventually went to bed. My parents were in the guest room and I took the couch with three blankets, none of which were long enough for my body. The night was chilly and a bit restless.

Wednesday morning brother's girlfriend went to school early, since she hadn't prepared anything. I had a very fuzzy shirt due to all the animal hair left on the couch. After cleaning up, my family went shopping. Let me tell you, it's an odd thing to watch your parents spend several hundred dollars on your brother. Yes, I had fun walking around with them and mocking people and things in the store. My brothers and I have always been able to fall into an easy groove where everything is mock-able and our parents are good at it, too. Yes, I was happy that my brother was getting things that would help with his new life with his new, and possibly long term, partner. And, yes, knowing that my parents could afford doing this thrilled me because they can and it made them happy. But, still, a not small portion of me was wicked jealous and kept on screaming, "WHY NOT ME?! I WANT STUFF, TOO!" (They did give me money to cover parking and gas and they paid for the motel and my plane ticket.) We made three shopping trips that day and filled up the rental car completely the first two times. The second trip was for groceries. The third was to get the stuff we didn't realize we needed after putting everything away. As the sun set, we walked down to the beach (There are beaches in that part of Oregon.) where the tide was low. I'd have liked to be there during the day, but it was still quite lovely. Dinner was at an all night diner, where they have mighty fine burgers. That night I put a sheet on the couch to lessen the hair problem and used two blankets that were longer than I am tall. I was warm.

Thanksgiving we all got up a little later than we probably should have. Baking needed to be done before the turkey went in and it wasn't done until later than hoped. We thought we'd eat around 2, so brother's girlfriend told her family, who had driven in from Washington and another part of Oregon, were told to be there then. At first we were worried about dinner not being ready then, but all figured the snackie foods would take care of that. They didn't show up then, though. They showed up just before the turkey was pulled out of the oven. We mingled and ate and mingled and mingled until the parent's of the baby got fussy and left with the brother's girlfriend's parents in tow. We cleaned up and chatted and went to bed.

Friday brother's girlfriend went out with her mom and sister to get their feet done. My family tried to walk to the fossil place on the beach, but the tide was in. So, we turned around and started walking to the lighthouse out on the point. About halfway to the point where we turned around, I got really dizzy and never quite recovered. I kept walking, though. We didn't make it to the lighthouse, as suggested a couple of sentences ago, but we did make it to a lookout point where we could see sea lions lounging on a rock. We headed back without reaching the lighthouse because we had an appointment to meet with a family friend that afternoon. She used to live down the street from my grandparents and was friends with my grandma. We used to swim in her pool during the summer. We toured her house and then she took us down to the waterfront and pier. On the way, she pointed out where my grandma blew chunks when she visited. We listened to the sea lions bark and smelled the stink of boat engines and rotting crab parts. We looked at all the interesting boats (one was named Ceres, which seemed like an odd name for a boat, to me) and I teased a few gulls. Brother's girlfriend's mother joined us for dinner, homemade enchiladas rolled by my brother. We played cards while a fussy baby was passed around.

When I woke up on Saturday, my insides were screaming, "TIME TO GO! YOU'VE USED UP YOUR WELCOME! LEAVE! LEAVE! LEAVE BEFORE THEY HATE YOU!" Of course I couldn’t leave since it was my parents' rental car and the flight out wasn't until Sunday evening. So, when the rest of the people in the house went out to the fossil place and the lighthouse, with the dog, I stayed behind and read and played with the kitten (not a euphemism). They got back and started turkey soup. Brother's girlfriend's parents came over and we all headed out to a beach farther south so people could dig for agate. I mostly stood around and watched the waves crash against the rocks around us. Brother had read the charts wrong and the tide was coming in while we were there. We all ate soup together for dinner and when we finished the rest played cards while I read some more.

Sunday we woke and showered and cleaned up and hugged our way out the door before heading west to take the inland route back to Portland. Take it from me: the interior of Oregon is a lot less interesting to look at than the hill and coastal route we drove on Tuesday. We got to the airport early and waited and waited and our plane landed when we were originally supposed to board, so we left late. The airport was covered in fog, but we quickly broke through it when the plane took off and all of Portland sparkled below us as we flew south. I spent the rest of the flight reading and trying to ignore the inane chatter of the high school freshmen behind me.

The plane landed and we got our luggage and caught the transit to the parking. We hugged our good-byes and headed out. Parking was $76. At that moment, I really wished we had parked out in the economy section. Fast food was purchased for dinner and eaten as I drove. Unsafe, I know. I made it to my apartment some time after 10, I'm not sure exactly when. I pulled my stuff out of the car, brushed my teeth, emptied my bladder, and went to bed.

Oh, also on this trip, I caught a cold. My throat tickled on Saturday and soared up on Sunday. Monday my nose started leaking and my throat was raw. On Tuesday, my throat felt better, but my nose was leaking more juice. Yesterday, my snot thickened and I started to have a slight cough. Today, my cough has gotten heavier and the flem has migrated down to my throat. I expect that tomorrow I'll be hacking like mad and my lungs will have that heavy mucus feeling.

I'm sure I left stuff out and family may be by to add to what I have here. Still, this is what I remember of the trip.

Travel Plans: 3 Months, 3 Travelings

Not that they're exciting.

October: Celebrate Columbus Day by leaving work at 1PM on Friday and staying to Cowtown until Monday. Only two things planned: 1. A brief visit with Grandparents (Friday before I head up to parents' house, or over the weekend if there's already a planned visit with parents and other possible family). 2. Wash laundry without having to bring $10+ in quarters.

November: Early morning flight on a Tuesday to Oregon (theoretically 90 minutes later, which is much better than a 12 hour drive) to spend Thanksgiving with brother (some great art from him) and his girlyfriend. Also hope to buy an on sale Wii and/or DS. I wonder if there's a Wal*Mart near where they live?

December: Christmas in Cowtown. I think brother back east is coming out with his girlyfriend.

If I had the money, the courage, the self-esteem, a passport, etc., I'd go to Taipei in January. I don't have any of those things, though.

Dr. Horrible

Here's a great article about Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, Joss Whedon's internet musical.

Whedon described it like this: "It's the story of a low-rent super-villain, the hero who keeps beating him up, and the cute girl from the laundromat he's too shy to talk to."

And I'm going to miss it. Sure, I've watched the trailer, but I'll be away for work the week it's posted and the next and by the time I get back it'll be taken offline.

Guess I'll just wait for the DVD. *sigh*

Vacation Days

I mailed off applications and other stuff to Cowtown three weeks, or so, ago. The deadline for filing an application for the two positions was two weeks ago. I'd really like to hear something back.

A huge part of me is afraid that I won't get interviews there because I also asked them if they could schedule my interviews for a Friday or a Monday morning because of the long drive I have to make to get there. I left out the other reasons, like enjoying having an excuse for a long weekend. Yeah, it makes me feel better when I take a day off from work because I have an interview, how about you? Can you just take any old day off without an excuse and feel okay about it?

Along those lines, I've been thinking a lot about setting up some sort of tour vacation. Sure, I can't afford it right now and probably not next year either, but if I stay on schedule I'll have my final student loan paid off at the end of 2009. 2010 I could go. Get some package and go to Salzburg and Munich and Bern, or a cruise from St. Petersburg to Moscow, or Rome and Florence and Venice, or go to Viet Nam or Thailand or Pakistan or Egypt or New Zealand. I don't know, yet. 2010 is a long way away. Hell, I don't even have a Passport; kind of need one of those if I ever want to get out of the country.

I guess the only, realistic, thing I have to worry about between now and then is how much this sort of thing will cost me in two years. What with gas prices going up and the value of the US dollar going down by a flight across an ocean may more than double. I bet my salary won't.

I could probably start more local. You know, like Alaska or New York or Hawaii. Probably be cheaper, too. Well, maybe not Alaska. Alaska would sort of have to be done on a cruise to be able to see a large amount of the immense state. And I'd rather not do the other two with a tour group, but also not by myself.

Well, two years is a long time. Who knows what'll happen between now and then?

Right?

Nice, for the Valley

I do not look forward to the drive to Cowtown tonight. The cassette player in the car doesn't like the tape adapter (I'm afraid to try it on one of the real cassettes I have) and squeals when I put it in. That means no listening to myPod. The NPR station I listen to around here is only good for about an hour worth of the drive and it fades in and out constantly as the hills roll. The NPR station that can be heard in Cowtown will fade in around that time, but at seven it starts to play jazz. Jazz is not that good for me. And from there, it's scan the frequencies hoping that there will be something worth listening too, and if not that then at least something familiar I can sing along with.

Hopefully, though, the valley's not too hot tonight. According to the Google weather thingy it's about 88 now, which isn't bad, for the valley, and the highs should be nearing their zenith about now. Right?

And then there's the interview tomorrow. I'm really nervous about this one and not even thinking about a sweet chocolate Jesus makes me feel better. Third time's supposed to be the charm, right? What does that make the fourth time? The sightly pathetic, slightly desperate time?

*sigh*

I know. I know. Calm down. Everything will be okay. Other platitude.

I'll do an okay to spectacular job at the interview tomorrow. I just wish I had another job elsewhere so I could stop doing these things.

Actual Fun At Work

I'm off to Cowtown for the weekend. I'll be visiting my parent's and fixing my car. Last night I was told that new belts have been purchased all that is needed now is time and effort to get the thing running safely again. Let's all hope it won't be too hot.

In other news, I had an interesting conversation with SHTK earlier.

It all started with an attorney asking, "Is there a way to call the judge?"

After he was dealt with I looked at SHTK and said, "It's funny that so many of them ask if there's a way to call the judge because every time I hear them say that I want to say, 'Sure, just stand there and scream. She may hear you.'"

"When they ask me that," she said, "I stand here like this." She put her hands around her mouth, squinted her eyes, and pretended to yell. "Some of them don't think it's funny, though."

"People should be more precise when they speak," I said. "It's like when I was little and we were at my grandparents' house for a party or something and someone asked me if we have a bathroom. I said, 'No, it has a toilet, too.'" SHTK started to laugh. "My grandma wasn't too thrilled with me. I guess it was a sign that I'd end up being an English major in college."

"What about 'restroom'?" she asked.

"I know."

"I don't know about you, but I don't do a lot of resting when I'm in there."

"Maybe if there was a couch, or something," I said.

"Yeah but if it was near the toilets, I wouldn't want to sit there."

"It could be called a 'restroom,' though, because there'd be a place to rest after the strain."

We both laughed.

"Another name is 'the loo."

"I always thought of it as an insult, like calling it a 'John."

"I don't think it's spelled that way."

"Still, that's what I've always thought. It's like the first time I heard someone say, 'I'm going to hit the head.' I was confused. I was wondering why anyone on a boat would want to hit their head on anything."

"I wondered why they'd hit their heads on a toilet."

We started to laugh again.

"My grandmother," she said, "refused to call it perfume. She'd go around saying, 'It's nothing but toilet water, plain and simple!'"

And with that latest fit of laughter, we were told to get back to work.

Saturday the 27th

I woke up at about seven. I rolled over so I wasn't facing the window and thought that I should really sleep more because it was my brother's birthday and I was going to The City with him and his friends and my other brother to see a band and there was no way I would get back to my apartment before the early morning hours.

I didn't fall asleep, though. I just lay there thinking that I should sleep more and questioned the existence of a God who wouldn't allow me to sleep a few more hours so I'd be relatively lively for the music.

Eventually, I rolled out of bed, pulled on some clothes, and stumbled out to turn on the TV and toast some waffles for breakfast.

The waffles were decent eating. I smeared them with peanut butter and drown them in fake maple syrup. (I think I've written it before, but to have a body like mine, you have to work for it. Most people think you can get one just by sitting, but there's work involved. Somedays I worke hard.) I don't remember what was on TV at first, but eventually I found Kill Bill vol. 1 and vol. 2 shown back to back and watched those. Excellent.

I left for The City at two-something because I was taking the bus from here to there. It's a long ride, but adding in the toll for the bridge, gas, and parking, I save at least five dollars, more depending on where I park. Plus, I don't get lost as easily on my feet as I do in my car. (I once drove into The City and circled it for three hours getting more and more lost. Eventually, I saw the sign that pointed me on my way out of town and I escaped. That's why I don't drive in The City anymore.) Along with saving money, I left so early, since the music didn’t start until nine, because I was meeting Heels, Johnny Logic, and their baby (who Heels calls peanut in real life, not piglet like she did in her blog in the pre-birth time) at Heels's sister's place (her sister and her sister's son were also there, so I guess I was meeting them, too) for dinner. The plan was to meet at six, but Heels told me that they'd probably be finished with the zoo and back at the apartment around five; so I aimed for five.

I did pretty well, too. I think I got there ten or fifteen minutes after the hour. Thirty or so minutes later all of us were on our way to Thai. And it was good Thai, too. (For those who are curious, it's near the corner of 40th Ave and Taraval Street. I have no idea what its name is, but it's with the trip to Sunset.) I had faith that it would be good from the moment we ordered because I've found that the Thai places that are only so-so warn you when you order something spicy. ("It's spicy." "Yeah, I know. I saw the little pepper next to the name. I like spicy." "But it's really, really spicy. Are you sure you want it?" "It's fucking Thai food! It should be spicy! Yes I'm sure I want it!") I got no warning at this place and by the second bite, my nose was running and my eyes were watering, but that's what happens when you eat huge chunks of red pepper. Yummy! And the breaded and fried yams were simply scrumptious.

Eventually, we finished and headed back to the apartment where we talked, watched weird internet videos, and laughed.

I warned the baby about the dangers of playing Risk with his parents. I don't think he understood, but I think that the earlier he hears about it, the better. Plus, the one time he does convince them to play the game with him and things go... wrong, I can say I warned him. (No, I'm not that cruel, I plan on warning him when he's old enough to actually understand what I'm saying.) It's not that his parents are evil when it comes to playing Risk, it's just that when it comes to the ethics in the game, they don't see eye to eye on what's ethical: one plays the game more like it's the real world and the other plays it more like and idealized world. The one time I played the game with them reinforced why I had making non-aggression pacts with other players, just like the real word, betrayal comes around eventually.

Anyway, I thought we were having a good time and was surprised to look at the clock on the wall and see that it was after nine. Heels's sister told me the easiest way to use the public transportation to get to the club.

I got there about quarter to ten. My brother and his friends and my other brother weren't there yet, but that was okay. He told me that they were all meeting at one of his friend's apartments at nine and planned on getting to the club around ten.

A three piece band (one guitar, a drummer, and a piano) was playing. They sounded a lot like the B-52s, but more rocky. (Now, of course, I have the "Rock Lobster" running through my head. That's the way it is with the B-52s, isn't it? Just think of the name and one of their songs traps itself into an endless loop in your head. Not that it's a bad thing.) I liked 'em. I wish I could have heard more of them, but I only heard three or four songs before they left the stage. That was a little after ten.

The lights came up and I could see the place better. It was small, very small. The stage barely fit the three people who were carefully disassembling their equipment. I think there were about twenty people then and, to me, the place already felt crowded. And it started to get hot. There were also two TVs and a projector that showed the band while they were playing. I didn't, and still don't, understand the need for these, the place was so small that you could see the stage fine from almost anywhere.

My brother and his friends and my other brother showed up about twenty minutes later, which was about ten minutes before the next band started playing. I gave him his gift (Robot Chicken) and was reintroduced to many of his friends.

The second band was made up of two guitars and the drummer. This band's music was very punk, but the girls weren't dressed very punk. I liked them. Their biggest problem was the long pauses between songs, even though they had a play list taped to one of the mic stands.

At one point, I turned to my brother, who wasn't celebrating his birthday, and asked him if he missed bass guitars as much as I did. He did, and he said he also missed it when having two guitars on stage meant one played lead and one played rhythm. I agreed with him about that. I hoped the next band wouldn't have those problems, but they did.

Watusi Zombi was their name and from Japan they came. The make-up of this band was like the last, except they were guys. They started the first song with a sound that reminded me of Radiohead and then blasted their way into a Slayer sound and flopped back and forth for a while. That was awesome. The problem was that each song was structured that way and, to my ears at least, got boring. Although I did really like one of the songs, it was either three from the end or two from the end, by that point I stopped paying attention to the transitions between songs. They ended the set by moving the drum kit off the stage into the audience and giving the drummer a solo. The two guitarists joined him there kinda dancing and kinda playing. Most people seemed to think this was the greatest. Me? I thought it was like bad sex: there was movement and noise and even though the climax lasted a decent amount of time, it was ultimately a weak one that was totally unfulfilling. I think I'm in the extreme minority, though. (Probably a minority of one.)

The final band of the evening was the one I came to see: The Dead Hensons. This is a band that covers songs from Sesame Street and The Muppet Show. They were both amazing and a disappointment. Amazing because they played all sorts of wonderful songs that I haven't heard in a long time. When was the last time you heard the classic "We All Live in a Capital I"? I bet it's been a while. Disappointing because the eight members didn't really fit on stage (especially the guy who plays trombone), there were several minutes between each song, and most of them seemed to have a bit too much to drink. They sounded great, though.

My brother who celebrates his birthday later in the year left before the set was over, I think at about 12:45. I should have left with him. When I started to think that the show was almost over, I pulled out my bus schedule to see what time I had to be at the stop. 1 AM. I pulled out my watch, it was 1:15. The next bus? 6 AM. Shit.

The music ended twenty or so minutes later. I hopped in a cab with some of the others and we rode to the apartment building they all met at earlier in the day. We took the long ride up the elevator and sat around talking for a while. (We also watched internet thing (which had the caption "Oh, internet, you've done it again.") that shows one dog screwing the other and as the one on top pulls out it vomits, then it reverses itself so you see the vomit fly up into the dogs mouth and the humping begins again. Very odd.) Eventually, they all decided that they wanted to sleep.

At that point, 2:30 I think, I figured sleep wouldn't really help me because I was ready to get out of the city and back to my place. I walked with my brother and his friend to his friend's car so she could get her sleeping gear and walked them back to the apartment building. We parted there. They went back in and I started walking down town.

I saw bodies in doorways covered with blankets and/or sleeping bags. I saw a couple on a corner shooting up. I was offered pot, twice, and crack and a diamond bracelet. Some guy on the other side of the street tried to get my attention by calling me "fatty" and "fat boy." I saw a girl with her hands down the front of a guy's pants while he was on the phone shouting, "I need you to tell whoever has my keys to get them to me! I gotta get in, man!" I couldn't blame him for being eager.

A little after four, I made it to my destination, an all night diner that's not Denny's, but may as well be. I had some water and pancakes and read my book for the next hour. When I was through I walked to the buses earliest stop, which picked up at 5:45. I tried to read some more, buy I was tired and my eyes wouldn't focus properly. I listened to music, instead.

The bus was on time. For as long as I can remember, I haven't slept well in moving vehicles, but I dozed. I'd hear the beginning of a song, drift off, and come back for the end. I did this for two and a halfish hours.

I opened the door to my apartment sometime after 8:30, but it still wasn't nine. I dropped my bag on the floor in front of the door and pulled my shoes off, throwing them into the kitchen. As I stumbled toward my bed, I stripped off my clothes. I climbed into bed and pulled the covers up over my eyes, there was too much light coming through the blinds.

Cowtales?

I headed up to Cowtown this weekend to get the hell away from here. Here as in The Bay Area. I could have gone into The City or visited my brother in The East Bay, but it simply wouldn't have been enough.

It was a nice trip. There were cats to pet, parents to visit with, and a birthday celebration to go to. I really wasn't expecting the celebration, but it was there and so was I. Who was it for? Why it was for Green Apron Monkey. Also in attendance was The Girl (as Green Apron Monkey calls her in his blog, although Slackbastard once told me that she had a Jennifer Tilly-esque voice, so I always think of her as Jennifer), Johnny Logic, Heels, the person formerly known as JustLetMeRead (now simply known as her name), . . .

(I just watched the new Superman trailer, twice. Cool. Very cool.)

. . . and the Heels-Logic spawn (there were others who I still don't know, although I think I knew the brother of one of them), who was actually as well behaved (non-fussy?) as Heels says he is, which surprised me. Not because I think Heels is a liar, it's just that I have found, in my limited experience, most parents think their babies (and children) are well behaved, but they're wrong.

Last night, I finally watched the Battlestar Galactica miniseries. I was only going to watch the first half, but by the end of that one, I had to watch the second half. Can I simply say, "WOW!"? I remember reading some of the gossip about it as it was being made. Cast members said to skip it and stick with the original. I guess they just didn't get what they were making at the time. For those of you who like science fiction and haven't seen this stuff, watch it. For those of you who hated the original, watch this version. For those of you who like good military and political show, watch it. For those of you who just plain old like good TV, watch this show. It's simply outstanding.

The rest of the episodes are quite excellent, too, but it's always best to start at the very beginning, right?

16

I woke up this morning with this thought rattling through my brain: Only sixteen more hours of work this week. Then I thought: Eighteen hours if I count lunches. Finally, I thought: Nineteen if I count walking to and from work.

By the time I leave, I'll be down to eight hours, or nine hours, or nine hours forty-five minutes, depending on how you want to look at it.

Today was also a meeting of the union, of which I am not yet a full member. Money is taken from my pay so they can bargain for me, but more money has to be taken away for me to actually be a member of the union. That, to me, seems silly.

I also had my first, although it should be my second, review today. I did well. The PJ is letting me take the thing back to my apartment with me so I can read over everything before I sign anything. I think that was nice of him.

I'm off this weekend to the big city to visit with my brother and a friend. (The same two people in the picture I mentioned earlier.) We're to talk about a possible future in publishing. Right now my outlook is bright and bleak, sunny and stormy, half-full and half-empty; you choose the metaphor.

That's all for today.

Me write good.

Me go to Cowtown tomorrow. Eat food. Visit friends and family. Have fun time.

Gone

Tomorrow, I head out of here.

Tomorrow, there's a long drive for me and my parents

Tomorrow, I move my crap into my apartment.

Tonight will be the last time I have a regular connection to the internet for, probably, a month. I'll try to post when I can, but the computers at work are more ancient than the one my parent's have and I don't think they want us distracted.

For those who want and address and phone number, e-mail me and I'll get it to you as soon as I can.

See you in a while.

Gas Prices Have Hit $3.159 In Cowtown

Monday was up too early and sitting on my ass too long. I actually showed up at the airport two hours early, 4:30 in the morning, just in case. I spent over an hour waiting to board the plane. That sucked.

There was a layover in Houston. I had quite a march from one terminal to the other. On the way I counted four(!) ‘Bucks and saw a goofy statue of Bush the first, made of bronze, with a flutter tie and a jacket sticking straight out behind him. Crazy.

I sat near a guy who was scared of flying on the way into Pittsburgh. I know how lucky I was to have his wife sitting between us. When we got further east and flew over a huge cloudbank, he started to freak out a little. “Can you see the land?” he asked me. (I sat by the window on all my flights.) The clouds stretched out as far as I could see and when I answered, he paled. When we stared to make our landing run, his eyes were glued on the window and he was squeezing his wife’s hand.

I got off the plane on time and didn’t see Heels. So I went to where I thought she might been. She wasn’t there. Ten or fifteen minutes later, I went back into the building and walked to the escalator I came down and heard my name called. And there she was, looking pregnant, but not quite finished, we’ll know when the baby’s done when her belly button pops like a turkey timer. That’s my theory, at least.

We headed back to her and Johnny Logic’s place for pizza (I requested no mushrooms and was informed that in Pittsburgh all pizza places put canned(!) mushrooms on their pizzas.) and much talking.

Let me say, I had three goals for my weekend with them: 1. Spend time with Johnny Logic and Heels. 2. Give them my baby gift. 3. Visit the Warhol Museum.

Saturday, I woke up early, which surprised me. (Maybe everyone else?) Heels was already awake, we sat at the table and talked, then read, then talked some more. (It seems to me that most of the talking was about the past. Which makes sense, since I’ve know both of them for a long time and I spend a lot of time thinking about my past, over analyzing it and imagining how things could have been better and such.) After Mr. Logic got up a discussion of the day’s events was had. It was decided that we should go to the French bakery for breakfast and a movie after and then the Warhol.

We saw Broken Flowers, with Bill Murray. It’s the story of an aging Don Juan who has never faked his own death to see all the women who had loved him. I like it a lot. Bill Murray is spectacular, but the guy who played his friend stole the show. The movie was very bitter sweet, which is my favorite way to take sweet movies.

As we walked out, Heels and I dropped Johnny Logic off at the bathroom, we heard a lady say, “That movie was awful. Bill Murray from Scrooged, that’s the Bill Murray I like. Why doesn’t he make more movies like that?” Heels looked at me and I looked at her, we both smiled and started to laugh. One of us, I’m not sure who, pointed out how strange it is to go see the same movie with so many other people and to have seen a completely different movie. When Mr. Logic came out, we heard her sharing her love of the movie with the guy who takes the tickets. “That movie,” she said, “was the worst movie I have ever seen. That was the worst movie ever made.” I’m sure the ticket guy was going to tell everyone he saw what she thought.

By that time, we were all hungry, so we went to a bird named restaurant and ate. By then, it was too late to see the Warhol. So, we did a drive through tour of Mr. Logic’s school, it was raining, and the downtown. Then we went back to their place. Heels was very, very tired, and took a nap. Johnny and I watched one of their movies, The Borne Identity. I enjoyed it quite a bit; it was a surprisingly smart action film. So, we popped in the sequel.

After the movie, we stayed up even later than the night before talking.

Sunday, The Andy Warhol Museum! (And, later, a baby shower.)

The museum started on the top floor with a John Waters (the director) exhibit. It was mostly photographs he’d taken at his films and strange comparisons of actors and actress to Divine. The best part was the John Waters Curates Andy Warhol’s Porn. Watching old people with very serious expressions watch three girls going down on a guy made me giggle. It was like they were looking for hidden meaning in a blowjob, as opposed to the visceral reaction porn is for.

The rest of the museum was pretty much devoted to Warhol’s stuff. Lots of prints, since that was his thing, but there were other things too. Some painting and sketches. I love looking at quick sketches. They all look so free. Unrushed. Like the artist had no other thought about the work but to get it out. My favorite piece, however, was a self portrait print which is a profile in red, but only a little bit of color for an outline, the rest is white. I’m not sure why I like it so much, but I do.

We moved through the museum a little faster than I would have liked, but we had a baby shower to get for and we had to be on time, since it was for Heels and (to a lesser extent) Johnny Logic.

One word can describe how it was for me: boring. But I was there for my friends, so I did my best to hide my thoughts. The decorations were awful; although it was funny when the hostess asked if the baby was a boy like all her decorations said. (It is a boy, for those who don’t know.) The food was pretty good, though. I was warned early on that the people at the party would be more on the conservative side, so I decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to wear my “Republicans for Voldemort” shirt. I also had to hold my tongue a lot. One time, I started to say something, three words had escaped my lips before I stopped myself and said, “I’m sorry.” One lady looked at me like she would have liked to hear what I was going to say, but there was no way Heels would have forgiven me if I had said it; many bruises would I have had to live with on the flight back if I had.

Watching Heels open presents was fun. Lots of clothes, a diaper sausage maker, a rocking chair, bibs, and a couple of books. The books were from me; my two favorite Dr. Seuss works, McElligots Pool and Fox in Socks. It was funny that whenever something was unwrapped that had a bear on it the person giving the gift would say, “I know you said you don’t like Teddy Bears, but it was just so cute.” And Heels would say, “Oh, that’s okay, he has a bear sitting in his crib waiting for him. I gave it to my grandmother when I was a kid and now she’s given it back for the baby.” She wasn’t thrilled with the bears, though.

After the party it was back to the house for more jibber jabber, mostly about family, if I remember correctly, and then bed for another early flight. (The only reason it was so early was because originally my parent’s were going to drop me off and pick me up and I didn’t think they’d like to pick me up at 11PM and then have to go to work the next day. It didn’t work out, though.)

The flight back was fine. Katrina didn’t make landfall until a few hours into it and didn’t effect the weather in Houston. The drive back was long and hot and on the hills, my car started to make troubling chugging sounds. I haven’t driven it since.

Strange, isn’t it, how people can spend a weekend together and experience it so differently?

Forgot

Sorry, I don't really have time for tales of my trip today.

I'm heading off to Redtown with my mom to look for a place to live this afternoon through the time we leave tomorrow (probably about 24 hours after we leave here).

So, my take on the trip will be around later this week, but for now you can read Heels's version here.

There and Back Again

Been back a bit, but want to let my brain firm up before I write about it. So, you have to wait for details. Know, however, that I had fun.

Play

Tomorrow, I'm off to see Wicked in The Bay. I adore the book and hope that the play lives up to it.

Travel Time

Plans for The Bay are comin' along nicely. I want to visit a museum or two and not understand most of the art. One brother is lending me a space to sleep on and a toilet to pee in. Other brother hasn't gotten back to me, but I'm sure a visit will be workable. One old friend has posted a comment and wants to get together. Another old friend has e-mailed me and it looks like lunch is in the works. Two days away from Cow City, thank goodness. Too bad I have to wait until Friday.