Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Just say No to Socialism

I found this online and had to post it. It's been said before in differnt ways, but I liked how it was put here. Also, I'm not big on the healthcare bill that was passed, but it's like anything (some good / some bad). I really hate lobbing up mandatory INSURANCE for the bastards who are source of this problem. Note: if we all had health COVERAGE (a la Universal Healthcare) we wouldnt need INSURANCE; that for-profit bureaucracy always getting in the way. Okay, enough from me, here's the excerpt:

This morning I was awoken by my alarm clock powered by electricity generated by the public power monopoly regulated by the United States Department of Energy. I then took a shower in the clean water provided by the municipal water utility. After that, I turned on the TV to one of the Federal Communications Commission regulated channels to see what the National Weather Service of the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration determined the weather was going to be like using satellites designed, built, and launched by the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. I watched this while eating my breakfast of United States Department of Agriculture inspected food and taking the drugs which have been determined as safe by the Food and Drug Administration.

At the appropriate time as regulated by the United States congress and kept accurate by the National Institute of Standards and Technology and the United States Naval Observatory, I get into my National Highway Traffic Safety Administration approved automobile and set out to work on the roads built by the local, state, and federal Departments of Transportation, possibly stopping to purchase additional fuel of a quality level determined by the Environmental Protection Agency, using legal tender issued by the Federal Reserve Bank. On the way out the door I deposit any mail I have to be sent out via the United States Postal Service and drop the kids off at the public school.

After work, I drive my NHTSA car back home on DOT roads, to my house which has not burned down in my absence because of the state and local building codes and fire marshal's inspection, and which has not been plundered of all its valuables thanks to the local police department.

I then log onto the internet which was developed by the defense advanced research projects administration and post on freerepublic.com and fox news forums about how socialsism in medicine is bad because the government can't do anything right.

Furthermore, if the Politicians would just discuss what the real issue is here (hint: Human Rights), there'd be no debate.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are supposed to be among our inalienable rights, instead they're just another example of our hypocrisy.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Collateral Murder

I say this as someone who was more than angry after September 11th, as someone who voted for George W. Bush (now, regrettably) in 2004, as someone who thoroughly excused The War in Iraq and virtually anything America did to "defend" herself; but this is bullshit - period - and the same mentality a lot cops have.


Monday, March 29, 2010

Fight Dog Fighting Dot Com

FightDogFighting.com is a medium to raise awareness and stop unnecessary Dog Violence.

The Goal: to take the "fight" in "dogfighting" to Dog; WHERE IT BELONGS! The days of Dog bullying Dog, without fear of repercussion, are a thing of the past...

Our Motto: ZERO Tolerance and LESS Compassion

We'll beat the shit out of Aggressor Dog AND Inferior Dog, LETTING EVERY DOG KNOW, that if they dont change their dog-ways, they'll be "dogged" next.

Think tough love, but minus the love.


Ahh...Nice try Deceiving Dog! But I know "Dogfighting" isnt the innocent sparring down at the health-club like you'd have us believe. You're ruthless, you know that Dog? What'd you say? Oh, just another retarded bark, that's what I thought.








Here's some other things to think about:


Awe, cute! If you ignore the dick germs and cat-shit on his breath, that is. Really, Dog? To a baby? That's messed up.


  *sigh* No Comment

Nice Kangaroo impression Arrogant Dog, but I'm not impressed. And by that unflinching whiff (of your own ass, sicko), I surmise your shit doesnt stink either. Great. All this while enjoying a snow-day, b/c guess what? Dog doesn't fucking work when it's snows, or doesnt snow, making everyday just another "dog day" in his vacation of a life.

Oh perfect, her nose and eye in one full swoop. Talk about a prick. Oh and let me guess, the centuries of Puppy Propaganda have her "enjoying" this! And why shouldn't she? I dunno,b/c Dog loves to eat cat-shit and lick his own dick. But hey, to each their own I suppose...


Oh sweet, somebody's ready for us huh? Well, you might look pretty fearsome Medieval Feudalistic Dog, but we will fight you Sir!! And newsflash dumbshit, your fancy armored suit was rendered useless, I dunno, like 400 hundred years ago. (Hint: Gunpowder.) You might trick some people Sir Dog, but not me...

And am I the only one sick of Dog masquerading behind euphemisms like, "Man's Best-friend"? Puhhleasse! Nobody wants some shit-hole sniffing, self-righteous prick, whose best trait is their ability to lick their own genitalia; as their BFF. (Go ahead Dog, pleasure yourself while you think no one sees you, real fucking cool Dog.)


Okay that's enough for now, from me at least. But I'd love for you to share your own stories (err..nightmares) about Dog exploiting his (what should be nonexistent) role in society.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

I wouldnt put that in there if I were you....

I'm all but 100% positive this is only funny b/c I'm still drunk from last night's St. Patty's day celebration....or maybe I'm just a sick sonuvabitch, who cares. But I love that I found multiple articles about this poor Bloke (not the guy in the image) who got his willy stuck in a steel pipe while I was prospecting this morning.

Who knew a "steel pipe" search would yield such ridiculous results?? I'd ask with the same sincerity, what in the world this Limey was doing, but we all know they're a bunch of sick, sex deprived, perverts stuck on an island, at this point, don't we? So thank you Universe for the much needed comic relief, and google for linking the article. You've made my day, now back to struggling through this formidable hangover, arggh.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

vacuous

I wrote this Sunday evening after one of my guitar strings broke. I was already slightly frustrated with some other things, amidst reading some pretty heavy material, and I just wasnt feeling the "bright" sound of new guitar strings. Furthermore, I havent had a cigarette since 2002, but the idea of a disgusting cig embodied my mood.

                                                                                                                

I want my strings old and worn out. I want them to ring dull and deep and dark; like the blunt touch to a weeks old bruise.

I want the harsh critique of an old has-been who was more than slightly used; with bitter sentiments about the way the world works.

I want rustic stained callused fingers to feed my crooked teeth. I want to play pick-less arpeggios with a cigarette between my lips and a piece of scrap paper nearby. I want yesterdays coffee, room temperature, and bitter to compliment the stale smoke that dances on my tongue.

I want a reason to scream in an octave you cant hear and play it off like a whisper, with a smirk reminiscent of every devious thing I've ever done.

I want to let my mind race like a maniac while occupying the like with straight talk about the forecast. I want to intentionally go the wrong way before being admittedly unsure and unaware; then play dumb and offer an apology so contrived it's insulting. I want total, 100%, complete, thorough destruction. Chaos. I want every single thing systematically destroyed, poof, completely to the ground, but done silently and with zero plans of reconstructing.

I want to waive my fist and march around like a freak and not give two shits.

I want you to win; to be beaten fairly and be genuinely indifferent about it.

I want to get in a philosophical debate about how 2+2 can equal 5; before we both agree we've been fed so much bullshit it's beyond our breath but ingrained in the very syllables we emphasize.

I want you to see it my way before I retreat from my ideologies. I want to disregard what I cant have once I get it and then complain about losing it.

.............

Monday, February 22, 2010

Thoughts become things....

I often take you with me in my day dreams
With a slight shift in resonance we're a world away
Living off pristine vistas and the new
We're sharing cups of warm laughs in a quaint cafe











Passport stamps are played out
Visas fatigued
And it just so happens we've topped the Seven Summits in under seven minutes
And sailed the 7 seas all Seven days of the week

Yes, just a dream, my inner critic chimes
But my reality transcends manifestation a la grapes to wine

So I dream a dreamer's dream
I hang my coat on ideals
My thoughts on your smile
in this fantasy with wheels
It's errant and without aim
a swift rush between a pause
But yet just a dream....well...just because....

Sometimes I wonder what you think
Where you place your yesterday
Do you blink in the moment; in your dream of today?

Oh my, my musing mind
always losing it's place
But you the constant in my dream to escape....

Thursday, February 18, 2010

See you in Hell Frashour...

Please work the equation from the other direction, I beg you.

Please see a life cease's to exist. A man is dead, shot in the back, and it did not have to be so. This fact needs to supersede any tolerance for procedural mishaps.
Look no further than your own hypocrisy for the root of this tragedy. You cant dismiss the "absurdity" of racist notions while you employ them in the same breath. Now it's my turn to roll my eyes; talk about absurdity, please...
That you expect me to tolerate such things is in its own right sickening, maybe you should reexamine who's the bad apple.
(..............)
For one instance pretend it was me? And if in that instance you can look me in the face and say your blood would not boil with the rage of murder then I'll walk away. I will walk and I will never say another thing.
I will too, however, be sick to my stomach. I'll most likely have my hands full of respect that used to beam for you; a lifetime's worth...
No one ever said their job was easy, but that's what they signed up for. That's why they're in the line of fire... 
...And like the men who have sworn to protect us from fire, they too have a duty. Would we shrug indifferent if they employed the same seemingly "reasonable" fears? Last time I checked burning buildings kill people. What if they refused to rescue people because "they feared for their life"? This might seem ridiculous and provocative but it equates the same...doesnt it?
Love or hate the Reverend, it's not about him or his ego; it's about an unarmed man following police orders getting shot in the back with an assault rifle.
To even be complacent is wretched (remember the poem; "First they came"?) but to defend these actions is insane. So yes, dismiss me and I'll go off and wave my pitchfork, thank you...and NO, I'm not angry: I'm FUCKING FURIOUS!!


Sunday, January 17, 2010

Still

While you exercise your routine trepidation, I wonder aloud if it's in an attempt to show the universe, yourself, or your friends that you're trying?

While the mirror stares back and you groom yourself in agreeance, I wonder what pageant this is for.

While life chases, and you run, I wonder if you will ever trip and refrain from grasping at conveniences.

While angst consumes, and you clench, I wonder if you realize you just lost a passing moment.

While you turn up the volume to deafening levels, and recite the lyrics of inaudible distractions, I wonder if you ever truly listen to the beauty of existence; to silence.

While I watch you hide yourself from yourself, I wonder with concern if you'll hide it too well, as so it will never be found. I hope you will be revealed; and if so, when, and by whom?

While I sit back, knowing it's now your time, I pray the fiery intensity of your being will marry an equally vibrant curiosity; one that seeps from your pores.

When I see all the fortunes this life has found you in I wonder if you will ever truly realize your own fortune; if life, without tragedy, will humble you to the point of apologies. I hope you get to see the softer side of grace dance beside you like the Aurora.

I see you have so much strength, followers feed from it, but yet a crutch is still firmly placed under your arm while you ceremoniously skip to avoid limping.

I wonder if the centrifugal force generated by you affords you the feeling of being grounded, or you too are uncertain.

I wonder if the ramifications of this life will ever resonate with you in an alarming fashion. If you will ever wake up, see the sun rise before deciding to take over the world.

I dream that you will learn to build smiles from your deepest moments; that one morning your eyes open a little wider and you learn something from yourself before teaching it to all of us.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Tomorrow Becomes Today (version 2)




After a late night talk with a friend on Friday and my s

I wrote this song last Saturday after staying up way too late talking about Life, to put it shortly, the night before.


Intro
I could rap over an acoustic guitar
play the background of a backtown bar
But ya know that aint get us very far
Lets make real changes, not wishes on a star

Verse
Lets talk about clean drinking water
for the impoverished children starving
And certain things might be harder
making less go farther / we could all get smarter
After all / the planets getting hotter / we're deploying soldiers,
that's just for starters,
Lets take a hard look at all the hard things
Violence, hand guns, your blood diamond ring
What with all the exploitation
Raping other nations with no explanation
Just like a slave on the plantation
soveriengty is now a corporation
And I know I'm just one Mason
writing silly poems 'bout the problems we facing
But I see us all as one creation
I fell in love with love and it's since been amazing

Chorus
Change Happens in the Funniest Ways
We all speak up tomorrow becomes today

Bridge
Have we, all but forgotten
The homeless, Jobless, Hopeless downtrodden

Verse
Lets form a whole new committee
Each practice what we preach, its not enough just to pity
It dont matter if you farm or you're city
We're all earthlings and it aint all pretty
Lets take a little gander at hunger
bombs over foods and elected war mongers
I keep saying it's fear we need to conquer
knowledge is power lets get a little smarter
All of us could use a little less
conserve a little more and make a bigger difference
Juxtapose useless expense
With starved and deprived, it makes no sense
Loads of us, living lost in excess,
w/ Visa Mastercard American Express
might seem daunting, but no need to stress
own the moment, it's not hopeless

Chorus
Change happens in the funniest ways
When we all speak up tomorrow becomes today



Undecided alternate verse
Have we, all but forgotten
The homeless, Jobless, Hopeless downtrodden
At times, you might think it's rotten
But someone's best day'd be your rock bottom
I know, it happens all too often
The best of ideals, get stomped & softened
Stay strong, you belong in your convictions
The world keeps spinning, we're all here to witness
But make you're not in your own way
As for making change, no day like today

Monday, January 11, 2010

He aint no Joe, He's Mike The Plumber!!!

And to clarify, I'm talking 'bout my big brother Michael aka Mike, Big Mike, The Bigger Mike, Grace's Dad or my all time favorite moniker; Wabado.  We could also refer to him as "Big Red" if we wanted to go by the spray paint graffiti that adorned our garage way back in '95.

Continuing on, this blog is of the promotional variety, specifically in the way of plumbing. It's a Plumbing Promo Blog, if you will.

My aforementioned brother is starting a plumbing business, so you should call him if you have any plumbing needs (503) 936-5618, or email him or use the facebook account he just started. Now, you might be thinking, "wait, doesn't his Dad have a plumbing business?" If so, you're correct, my Dad does indeed, so Wabado's initiative will  make me the only male in my family without one. Yeah, talk about being left out. In television terms my character would be cast somewhere in-between George Costanza and Paul Pfeifer from Wonder Years, inadequate and picked last for the basketball game, but I digress.  You might also be saying, "Good for him, but, I already know a plumber...and he's done great work for us," and I respect that. Honestly, I do. The only problem is, does your local plumber or handy-man-guy have a daughter this cute?



 That loves (and NEEDS) accessories this much?

And laughing this much?




While still being this pleasant?


Dont answer yet, take on more look below. See, she's an Angel!


If for no other reason, give Wabado your plumbing business so Grace can sleep this soundly for the many happy years to come. 




(Also, if you're thinking it's unethical for me to promote my brother's business prospects on the cuteness of his daughter, then I apologize.  I am always going to be pushing the likes of Grace, aka the World's Cutest Niece, and helping out my brother who, over the years, has done his best to keep me outta trouble (dont make a joke out of that), goes without saying.  Ah ha, so now you see it's actually quite symbiotic, huh?  Glad we're on the same page.)


So even if you have some less than urgent plumbing issue, you should take care of it now (before it gets worse) and help stimulate the economy in the process; or at the very least my niece's college fund.  Further, this isnt just about YOU and YOUR plumbing needs, (quit being so vain!)  My brother will gladly do GREAT work for your friends, family members, neighbors or colleagues. So again, call him [503-936-5618], email him, facebook him, or even go through me and I'll play a cross between formal secretary and ghetto-adolescent-drug-runner-in-da-hood, if you catch my drift.  Anything to ensure the world is a better place!  Lets face it, when we talk about 3rd world countries in need, "running water" is one of the first things mentioned.  So do your part and support plumbers here, specifically my Brother!!!

All of my lame jokes aside, I'm very proud of my big brother and love him very much.  He's setting out to pave his own path, in tough economic times no less, and I wish him all the best.  I speak on behalf of him, Maureen (his beautiful loving wife), Grace (no further intro necessary), and their dog Bruce when I say all of your support is appreciated!

Happy New Year!!!

Monday, January 4, 2010

It was good times oh nine...

I'm still exhausted from this last weekend, wow, what a riot.  It's not typical of me to get too worn out.  I think my exhaustion is justified though and anyone in my position - except a "tweeker" on a meth bender - would feel similar.  Let's suffice to say I'm feeling it after 2000 miles in a car, an Epic NYE's bash, The Rose Bowl, "Is this Love" a capella style through downtown LA (and on the subway), general shenanigans, enough one-liners to make an English major blush and day drinking on "the prom" in Santa Monica, then driving home on a few hrs of sleep.  I love pushing it to the edge though, it can serve as a reminder to what we're capable of.

Here's a rough attempt at a recap of our adventure.


Brian pulled into my driveway at 5:15am, and I did what anyone with the foresight of the magic to come would do, I lit sparklers and danced like a pansy in the driveway.  I think Brian was laughing too hard to work the camera on his blackberry or we'd have a pic. If you're reading this though, you probably know me well enough to create a decent visual upstairs, so that and the crappy stock photo to your right'll have to do.  I was fired up and ready to go after getting the car all packed.

It's 5:30am, Wednesday, December 29th, 2009, when Brian and I set out for sunshine, leaving behind one overly soggy, nasty, depressing Portland, Oregon.  I love Portland but my fine city was hit with a surprise snow disaster Tuesday afternoon.  Luckily it wasnt a burden on our travel ambitions, but at this moment Portland was the equivalent of the semi-decent girl you convinced yourself to go to bed with, only to wake up next to after her breath went sour and her make-up rubbed off throughout the night.  Not only is she hideous, but she made a mess out of your freshly laundered pillow case. It just aint pretty.


We loaded up the car with two guitars, couple sleeping bags, one ukulele (aka the car guitar), an adequate amount of coffee, red bull, Gatorade, cold cuts, chips, tangerines, apples and of course, the necessary enthusiasm to entertain yourself on a straight stretch of interstate for the equivalent of two days at work.  Getting out of my neighborhood Brian turned to me and said "you're really prepared", I nodded, it was evident I knew this was a cant miss weekend.


So I man the wheel and we spend the first 6 hours listening to tunes.  We cover most of my favorites before the loud music grew irritable. At this point BK picks up the Ukulele and we start having some fun.  Brian put together a few chords and I belted out "We going to Flip Flop country, We going to Bikini's and Palm Trees" in some undesirable tone, but when BK repeated the words with his beautiful voice they fit like puzzle pieces. We took turns rapping over the uke coming up with versus for said song and another.  It might sound ridiculous and silly, but that's the beauty of it.  We're a couple of weirdos just trying to have fun.  And in-between Brian's absent minded ability to sink into his blackberry to "tweet" some memorable quote for 20 minute intervals (that seemed longer), making up songs, and enough laughter to make watching Eddie Murhpy's "Delirious" seem like peanuts, fun we had. 

I basically drove the whole way there, minus the last 30 minutes where I slipped into a cocktail and gave Brian shitty directions, via my iphone, through Los Angeles' labyrinth-like freeway system. We still had enough energy to laugh at ourselves when I pronounced our place in the universe with this gem of a quote - "We're the two biggest fucking retards on the planet.  You're first and I'm second, and we wont get into the marginal disparity between ranks." Ha! We made it to Dave's in one piece though.  When we got there, Mike and David were out renting music equipment for the big bash to come, once again David out-did himself dropping too much on a more than adequate set-up.  We passed the time prior to their return playing guitars in the "rec room" adjacent to the lobby. Once the equipment was seized, unloaded, and the bar was scoped we scurried up to their 20th floor pad overlooking the Staples Center and the rest of downtown Los Angeles.  I know I had a couple drinks, a religious experience in the best shower of my life, and some "La Confidential", before falling into the most comfortable couch in the world like an 8 year old boy into a ball bin at Chuck E Cheese.  This sleep was earned.

I instinctively woke up at 7:00am, which is about an hour later than my internal alarm usually goes off.  I let myself go back to bed despite excitement, and the fact that it was already warmer out than any day Portland would see in the next 3 months (if not longer), not to mention the last day of the best year of my life aka 2009.

A  few hours later we finally pulled our heads from our drool soaked pillows and dunked them in giant bowls of cold cereal.  We fueled up while Mike ran late to work.  David showed up after having already digested a morning meeting in his dapper pin striped suit. You could see his mind racing with the angst that only someone who's thrown a huge bash knows, while going through the check list of things to be done.  Brian and I rubbed the sleep from our wide eyes and played the guitars overlooking the sun drenched city for a while before setting out on foot.  I'm pretty sure we were practicing a "Juicy" cover we conceived the night before. Then wandered aimlessly around this metropolis before bumping into Matt, Dave's brother.  We exchange Hey-how-are-you's before catching the bus down to USC's campus.  While Brian naively ganders at the diversity on this bus I tell him there's "no better way to get the feel of a city than to ride it's public transportation" - which I believe. He give's a hollow eyed nod in response. Then we went to rapping Juicy on the bus like we were alone, stopping only to confirm with a young man decorated in USC gear which stop was campus.  A lot of people were wearing USC gear around the city, which was apparently their showing of solidarity to the out of town football fans from Ohio and Oregon, respectively.  Campus was dead due to the holiday, but we dicked around till Mike picked us up sometime after 4:00pm to run a few last minute errands.

The rest of the night went rather quickly, or turned into a blur rather quickly? Who knows.  All I know is Mike led the charge on delicious bacon wrapped appetizers while we started in on cocktails. From here I wouldnt sober up until somewhere around Modesto on Sunday.  I arrived down at the par-tay fashionably late (I need to get into guitar addicts anonymous, seriously) and Brian killed it, obviously, and at the end of the night we did our last minute cover of Juicy. It was fun but I'm sure I sounded like a cross between carrot top and Leah Remini, which isnt good.  Plenty of room to improve though.  Ha!  I think my last memory of that night was David and Marriot jousting with gigantic stuffed animals from Africa, literally.  I know the Giraffe was involved, but the other animal escapes me, as does who came out on top.

(Note: Dave recently went to Africa and has 3/4 of the Lion King's cast in giant stuffed animals.  Over to your right you'll find one unkempt character singing "In the Jungle" like a clown with an Elephant on his back.)

Then, after we went to bed for less than enough sleep, some bastard got past security at the front door and broke into David's apartment and stole my right converse all star.  He was good too, didnt leave any sign of forced entry, almost like a ghost.  After waking up and realizing what happened, I told all my homies to look for some one legged crook running around Los Angeles with my shoe.  Fucking Bastard's lucky we didnt find him too, woulda got nasty. Okay, that last part is unconfirmed, but my right shoe definitely went missing and it's the only thing I could come up with that fits, (pun intended).

The first day of 2010 felt a lot like the start of 2009, sub Los Angeles for San Francisco and me waking up on David's couch instead of Jay's.  But hungover all the same with my head in a thick fog and half a bong rip away from retardation.  But it's on with the show as we set out for Pasadena after everyone had adorned themselves in their Ducks gear, and me in my neutral brown.  (No way I'd get caught in that shit.)  The sun's out and with to-go cups in hand the metaphorical play button to our Acapella version of Is this Love by Bob Marley is hit.  All join in singing and keeping a relatively decent rhythm with a mix of random sound effects and clapping.
It was like being in a music video as we took over the streets and engulfed everyone in song.  Honestly, it was really really awesome.  People didnt know what was going on, but smiles of approval met our harmonic haphazardness.  The nonsense continued on the subway with more Bob and the ducks fight song, minus the words.  Then the two mile walk from the subway stop in Pasadena to The Grand Daddy of 'em all.  Well most of us walked, some of us skipped, none of us stumbled, and one of us rolled in a shopping cart.  We've got plenty of company on streets of pasadena, they're either like us and headed to the game, out enjoying the sun, or there for the parade.  Who cares, it's a good day to be alive though.


 
This was easily the biggest game I'd been to, but without my dog in the fight, the tailgating was relatively standard fare for me.  We did have a keg though, thanks again to Dave's proper planning.  After tailgating for who knows how long, I decided I was close to out of steam and took a nap under a car a few spots from us.  Yeah, I know, and despite concerns about how "messed up" Mason was, it was a conscious decision of mine to lay down, where my only move in the next four hours would be to the front seat of Dave's Range Rover.  I woke up feeling good and when I heard some passerby mention the ducks loss I felt even better.  I was indifferent about the outcome of the game, but smiled knowing I wouldn't have to hear about how the Ducks should have been at the very least co-national champs if only they hadnt [insert ridiculous excuse for Boise loss here] and [random-unintelligent-regurgitated-Monday-morning-QB-anecdote here]. 

We tailgate post game before catching a shuttle back to the subway, and then back to Dave's.  But before that Marriot is doing his very best to antagonize any and all Ohio State fans.  He's way beyond drunk.  He's basically a mess while shaking his fists and chanting various chants like...."You wear Jean Shorts!!" (clap clap / clap-clap-clap) and "Go back to sheboygan!!" Which isnt even in Ohio, but rather Wisconsin, thus making it even funnier, and my personal favorite, "Buckeyes suck guys!!!" This nonsense continues most all of the way home. At one point I told Ben to more or less shut up, he pulled the relative trump card with, "Really?  You of all people?" Which is to say I've been far beyond obnoxious a couple of times, maaaybe.

That night we collectively agree to stay in and party amongst ourselves.  A decision I was happy with, even though I was well rested from my game-time napping.  So we kick-back on a couple drinks while Brian serenades the group.  The Cali boys had not yet heard all of his home-cooked brilliance -- NYE was hectic, and Brian played a lot of covers -- but they are more than impressed.  It was good times indeed, and exactly what I was looking for.  I didnt go down to LA for the Rosebowl, I went down to see my favorite people in the whole world.  And while watching everyone bob their heads in unison to Brian's music, I find the moment that embodied what I was looking for.  To me it was better than any ridiculous highlight, joke or one liner.  It was that Friendship thang.


Saturday morning finds us and David's condo in a disheveled disaster.  We (mostly Mike) clean the place up a little bit while they start making plans to kick it in Santa Monica.  I'm fighting my angst to start getting miles behind us while Brian grows restless, still wanting to "see" more of what LA has to offer.  I concede to go and hang in Santa Monica, but not for too long, while we settle arrangements to crash in San Fran for the night.  "Not too long" turns from a couple Corona's to Patron shots and like that we're staying another night. I concede and decidedly practice living in the moment, but it's hard to escape the picture of spending the following day hungover in that car.


Drinks chase away my angst and the good times are again rolling.  We've got an All Star line-up and we're definitely enjoying ourselves. We go from one bar to the next before taking over some Karaoke bar where everyone takes their turn being a rock star.  We're all dancing and the bar fills up with an eclectic crowd composed of cute girls, aspiring entertainers and those people that live for Karaoke (you know who I'm talking about, you cant decide if they put on an "outfit" or a costume).  After too many $7 beers we go back to Kirsten and Courtney's apartment (new friends) and keep at it till way too late - not sure the exact time.  Brian has his eye on Court, but he blows it in standard BK style.  Let me explain, after this nice young girl cooks bagel bites for all, someone compliments her "Rachael Ray" like cooking skills.  Brian takes the lame joke and turns it on it's head, exclaiming that not only is she like "Rachael Ray" but she's like the "Rachael Ray that he'd like to fuck." It went over like you'd imagine and Brian goes from possibly sharing a cozy bed, to being with everyone else scattered across the available couches. I somehow find my way onto an aero-mattress for literally a couple winks.


(Shots Shots Shots sha-sha-sha Shots Shots Shots - well in this case Jager Bombs)



January 3rd, 5:45am, 2010 my alarm goes off and I hate life.  The nightmare of a 15+ hour drives sets in as I argue with Brian about the fact that we cant afford to loiter any longer.  We're outta time.  He bitches before reluctantly rising from his upright perch on the couch and stumbles out the room.  We wander around Santa Monica looking for our parking garage and find it on our second attempt.  We set sail while the sun rises over the hills to our East.   In fact, it pains me to even think about the reality of that moment.  The ride home is far from the ride down, we're spent and lack enthusiasm.  I would equate the drive to one insanely long irritable buzzing noise.  The highlight was probably the worst McDonald's breakfast you've ever heard of.  It was terrible, but all things considered rather fitting. 


                              (I mean, is that even food?)

Laboring through that drive makes you understand the ambitions of Orville and Wilbur Wright. 

I'll add more later, I'm still exhausted.


Memorable Quotes:

"I'm not talking to them, they're talking to me!" Ben Marriot dead serious, deliriously drunk, (to the point of hallucination), after talking to the stuffed Giraffe the night of the Rosebowl.  (Note: this may be a condition of delusion all Duck fans experience following a loss.  Perhaps a collapse of the psyche after The Worlds Greatest Team fails to deliver, much like in Hitler's finals days when fantasy replaced cognition.  Perhaps even a shade of schizophrenia, I dunno?  I'm not a Doctor, just a Beaver fan so I sound smart.)

"We're the two biggest fucking retards on the planet.  You're first and I'm second, and we wont get into the marginal disparity between ranks." - Me being dead serious

Brian - "Did you fart?"
Me - "No.  That's just what Southern Oregon smells like, that's why no one lives down here."

"Make sure to tag me in that photo, there's this girl I'm really into and hopefully she'll be checking out my profile, and ya know, I want her to see how cool I am" - Brian facetiously serious

"I hate it when a girls breast are too big, ya know when you take off her bra and they go all over the place and you're thinking....does her nipple have a lazy eye?" - 5th please

"Hey Guy, whatcha think you're my Dad or sumfin?  What'd you do go back in time and fuck my Mom, huh?" - Bk in his "guy" voice