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San Diego was sunny as predicted, and I had a wonderful time with Mike and Jessi… as predicted. While I was there the world of Whazzmaster was introduced to two very special people who exist on two very different planes of existence: MOG, straight outta the Ay-Zee, and Gino the Ginny, from god-knows-where-but-sounds-like-the-bronx.

To MOG, two items: I wish more than anything to be able to attend Brewers Spring Training in Somewhereican’tremember, AZ, but due to my work/moving/travel schedule in March I probably won’t be able to this year. Please spare me a couch next year; I promise I won’t pee on Barrie’s chair.

To Gino: I can’t feel my legs!

Wwhazz, bellygirl, and I had a GRAND time after she got off work at 4:30am on Sunday morning. We ended up calling the sceizzer concerning tiny Gino, and Scientist was slightly taken aback at talking to three people screaming and having fun at 7:30am, Frozen Minnesota Time.

I wrote down all that happened in my gournal, but I probably won’t get around to truly transcribing it here. Wwhazz or bellygirl, feel free to spackle any holes that need spackling (not my butthole, though).

Friday night was fun, Fun, FUN in Ocean Beach. Two dollar Miller Lites? Gimme two. We met up with Steven Ejercito and Friends, who were also awesome. Ate fish tacos and had a drink at the mysterious Oggie’s.

Saturday we fought dogs and men, played poker at the small-but-impressive Palomar Card Club as The Corporation (ended up $32), and ended up drinking the majority of a 30-pack of Miller Lite and watching True Romance (I’d never seen it) and The Self-Destruction of the Ultimate Warrior. Quick review of the latter: holy shit I have never witnessed such a hatchet job in modern times. I mean, the U-Warrior is probably a grade A nutcase, but they go to such effort to tear him down bit by bit that you gotta feel sorry for the kook by the end.

Sunday we awoke and created a grand meal for the ages, ate it, and then I flew back to Nor*Cal.

An overarching theme of the weekend was the Donkey Konga playing that permeated every spare moment. I left my Gamecube with the kids with the only price that they get good enough to challenge me by the time I return to collect my property.

I’m moving this week and next weekend, so posting may be light. I’ll apologize in advance and you scamps’ll still complain. The world will keep turning, and somewhere some song writer will rhyme “turning” with “burning”. Bye-bye.

– to everything turn, turn, turn

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I was in the mood for a cornish pastie and two bottles of Miller Lite tonight so when I got home from work I grabbed A Confederacy of DUNCES and headed over to the Britannia Arms up the street. As luck would have it, it was some policeman’s retirement party and the joint was packed to the gills with Drunk O’Malley’s. I took a seat outside on the patio and started reading while, no fucking lie, a 13-piece drum ‘n’ bagpipe policeband jammed inside the bar. After a while, they came outside on the patio and played more bagpipe melodies. I giggled to myself a few times imagining Ignatius J. Reilly’s reaction to such a cacaphony. His valve woulda closed for sure. Proper geometry and theology and all that, you see. I’ll now excerpt an exchange between Ignatius and his poor momma that made me laugh out loud tonight:

“What in the world do you and that old bawd babble about?” Ignatius asked.
“Shut up!”
“Thank you. I see that things about here are as cheerful as ever.”

Tomorrow is nose-to-the-grindstone day at work, then Friday I’m flying off to sunny San Diego. See sceizzer, if you lived here in the bay still you’d only be an hour flight from slumming on wwhazz’s couch in sunny San Diego. Instead you’re stuck a jillion miles away in the middle of a deep freeze.

… oh by the way: Aaron Moneypenny is engaged to be married… to a girl!

– well I’ve got my pride/and a blue steel forty-five/and I’m waitin for the other shoe to drop

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1. I signed a lease today, thereby setting Operation: Backup Files in motion. I’m sure you’re all just dying to know where I’ll be lying my lid from now on, so let’s get with the links already. The three month lease was pretty way out there in terms of price, so I did a six-monther to keep costs down. So, it looks like I’ll be Viewing Mountains until September at least. Summer in Mountain View. hurray. Good news: three blocks to CalTrain, biking distance to work, two blocks to 24 Hour Fitness, two blocls to Trader Joe’s and *shudder* Wal*Mart, many, many restaurants around (including BuenoBueno!), and three blocks to a Safeway and an Albertson’s. Bad news: I’m living in Mountain View, and I still need to buy a bike.
2. I was way bored this evening and decided to take in a show at the local theater. Bottom line: there’s not a whole lot of good movies playing right now, but Freedomland looked interesting. Samuel L. and Julianne M. starred in a movie about a kid that goes missing when a white woman gets carjacked in the peejays. Racial tensions boil over, and Julianne Moore does what she does best and acts like a goddamned nutcase the whole time. I don’t reccomend movies lightly, but this one definitely gets a passable rating from me. When you know 90% how the movie will turn out (with the characters agreeing with you onscreen) and then you’re right, but the movie is still interesting getting to the conclusion, I think it’s worthwhile to see.
3. Tonight was somewhat of a landmark night for me: the full force of being alone was brought to bear. I think that so many of the distractions I mentioned earlier had obscured the simple fact that I no longer have a companion. Before tonight, how many movies had I ever been to by myself? Intuitively, I’ll say None. Maybe there are one or two out there, and old-time friends may jump out of the woodwork with examples, but I don’t like going to the movies in general and I don’t recall any times I went by myself. I forced myself out of my reading chair tonight to prove to myself that I could do things alone; I did this with the intended result to prove that being alone was easy. What I did was bring my carefully-constructed world down around me, as it were. The long walk out of the theater to my car was contemplative as I started to envision life without a roommate/wife/best friend. After being with someone for so long, it’s not going to be easy. A lot of my friends have had girlfriends off and on, but they learned valuable lessons about themselves when they weren’t “attached.” Let’s hope my semester starts now.
4. Hollywood is making a movie about United Flight 93 on 9/11. I saw the trailer at the theater tonight. I wanted to kick whoever is connected to that movie in any way in the throat until they hoarsely apologize. Still too soon, Hollywood.

– So don’t go away say what you say/But say that you’ll stay/Forever and a day…in the time of my life

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I hereby declare that Judd and Amanda’s wedding went swimmingly. It was the bee’s knees and all that rigamarole. I think all in attendance agreed that I Revved my goddamned ass off to wed those two in secular matrimony, and in the end we all got drunk on wine and Barrie smashed cake down Scott’s gullet with a fervor rivaled only by the bride and groom themselves. I’ve got pictures, beautiful pictures, of the blessed event, but as my computer hates me at the moment I’ll have to wait until I have access to the mischivious-elf-free internet access that only Intuit can provide.

Last night I attended a party in The City and it went off the rails fairly quickly. Luckily, the rails were not suspended above a deep ravine, so the train ended merely in a smoking heap in a ditch rather than smashed into a jillion pieces a thousand feet beneath the earth’s crust. I hereby declare this metaphor complete.

The Great Apartment Hunt of 2006 continues unabated, though I think I’ll shortly be pulling the trigger on Operation: Backup Plan. Operation: Backup Plan involves signing a 3-month lease on a place in Mountain View that’s close to work, then after the three months is up and I’m on month-to-month I’ll have more time to find one of those honest-to-god Fantasic Apartments I hear people talk about. Oh Cal, you’re so lucky in your rent-controlled paradise. Oh Wwhazz, you’re so grand in your paid-for style of living in a palatial San Diego estate. Oh GMC, it must be nice to live in on a bluff overlooking the ocean, even if your town is populated 90% by beach bums. Oh Jen, it must be so fun to live with a Genuine TV Personality somewhere in Milwaukee. WHAT ABOUT RAVEN?

As the swirling remnants of my life circle the drain and disappear one by one down its murky (murpy?) depths, boredom overtakes excitement at the possibilities. The house is sold, the apartment hunt draws to a close, Judd was successfully married, the divorce is in its final paperwork stages, and my job continues apace. May you live in interesting times, indeed. We’re in the denouement of this book of my life, and things ain’t exactly conclusioning quickly or cleaning. I suppose that’s the way of real life things.

On the other hand, the future is bright. It’s just the “waiting for it” thing that’s the bitch. This is done, that approaches, what to do for the time being. Self-improvement activities are the divorce cliche, so perhaps I’ll buck the trend and eat butter until I’m 400 pounds. That’d liven things up, especially my blood pressure.

This post draws to a close; I think I’ll go eat a burrito for lunch. By the way, shouts to Cal for picking up din-din last night. Thanks man, I appreciate your hospitality. Shouts to Sam as well for the ride from Cal’s down to the Marina and the wonderful guided tour of Pac Heights (”This place is filled with RICH motherfuckers. They have maids that sweep their homes in REAL MAID OUTFITS.”)

– rain, rain, rain go away/let the sun come out and all the children saaaaaaaaaay

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Oh Dick Cheney, you so crazy. Shootin’ a 78-year-old in the face with a shotgun, and then taking off for a nice dinner while they dig 7 1/2 shot out of his face, neck, and chest. You really are the King of All Motherfucking Evil.

I, on the other hand, do not hunt caged quail(s?). I hunt motherfucking apartments, and I do this with no remorse or regret. I need a place to live, and DOOM comes to the apartment that betrays my sense of fiscal responsibility or style. I’m slipping out of work today (ninja *VANISH* __/~~poof~~\__) to go check out an apartment in San Francisco. Then I’m leaving work slightly early to go to JUDD’S WEDDING REHEARSAL. In case you forgot, I’m performing the ceremony. I’m dressed to the Nines and ready to Rehearse. What? You want me to perform the ceremony while doing a handstand? A tripod would be infinitely more workable, but OK, you’re the groom.

Tommorow’s the wedding, and then this weekend I gotta get on with the get on to finalize apartment plans. USAA won’t give me auto or renter’s insurance until I actually tell them a specific address. Also, since I’m going to visit The Wirksusesss next weekend (!), I need to move my shit in a hurry. Anyone who wants to help me move, I’ll buy you a burrito and a Hey Dude! commemorative plate.

– well we’ll be right back after these messages/fellas grab your nutsacks, chicks squeeze yer breastesses

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Here’s a screen capture of the help desk ticket I just submitted to corporate. It is in no way fake. I am really covered in ants right now.

– real recognize real/on the microphone with wheels of mechanized steel

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I dun dun it agin. If I missed any pictures that shouldn’t be there, allow me to rectify by you telling me which ones to remove. I was fairly conservative, but maybe I missed one or two. I know how you scamps like your privacy after you’ve been posing for the camera all night.

– i’d be lyin if i said i didn’t have designs on you

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I’m finished cleaning up about a quarter of the 214 pictures that were snapped by Dr. 4nyay and I at the bparty last evening. Once I get ‘em all done I’m upload the gallery. I still haven’t even seen them all yet, so there may be some that are edited out of the lineup.

The early returns suggest a success occurred. Judd puked many times, and I straight-up don’t remember anything after a certain point. I woke up on the floor cramalamadingdonged in between the bed and the wall. Somehow, in my absolutely polluted stupor I had the capacity to take off my club clothes, set all my stuff (phone, wallet, cufflinks. etc.) nicely on the nightstand, and change into jeans and a t-shirt right before I dove in between the bed and the wall and passed, as they say, the fuck out.

I also had a delightful day with Whazzmaster.com’s Official Guide to San Francisco: Cal Himself. We walked around Potrero Hill, (where I’d like to find an apartment) and had lunch, some coffee, and took in The Potrero View. I’m going to be looking for a spot around there; it’s pretty nice.

OK, I’ll be back in awhile with some pictures of the affair.

– dag, don’t mean sound crunchy/hit a honey from behind and crumpled up her scrunchie

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