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I don’t catch up with the good doctor 4nyay as much as I should, but I popped over to his blog today and was in for a real treat.

Korea, here I am. Bag, where are you? Oh, you decided to go to LA? Why? I see…you wanted to stay the night. OK, well give me a call whenever you arrive. Thanks.Have you ever gone to work in shorts and a T-shirt while other people are in suits? Well I have. It makes you look classy.

Trip’s over, time to go home. I check in early in Korea to make sure my bag is on the plane. I see it at SFO, claim it, give it to United about 2 hours early. I get to Fenix, but my bag didn’t. It got lost again. Doh! I’m supposed to catch another plane in 36 hours & my itinerary is in my bag. Please deliver it. After they fuck with me for a long time & tell me they’ll deliver it by 4.30AM, I can relax. 4.31AM…dude, where are you people?

Dude travels the world making giant satellite dishes appear in fields or something. He’s in Korea one week and Italy the next. He doesn’t post here anymore, but you can see his battles against foreign foods and gate agents on THE PEOPLE’S CHAMP blog. I heartily reccomend.

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Well, my wonderful weekend with Stacy has come and gone, and I now know certain things about the Bay Area that were heretofore unrevealed. Things like, figure out where you’re going before you leave to go there, and more importantly: don’t plan a car-trip to the most anti-car city in the western hemisphere the day of the biggest gay pride parade in both hemispheres. Also: look at the weather report before visiting the Golden Gate Bridge; if it says “soul-crushing fog” then reschedule.

We got pictures!

By the way, Stacy was delighted by the sea lions. She wanted them to clap their hands and balance balls on their noses. I told her that the they were wild, untrained sea lions and probably only knew how to eat and fuck and poop. She kept hope alive, though. She also surmised that Jessi in fact loved the sea lions. Wwhazz, tell me your wife doesn’t subscribe to the “they’re cute in a bowtie so they must be cute all the time” theory to liking aminals.

On Saturday Stacy kicked the holy hell out of me in basketball. I edged her out the second game, but she was up 5-0 in the first one and I only managed 2 or 3 lousy baskets before she dropped the proverbial hammer.

She also got to do such amazing things as hang out at Winter’s, investigate the native redwood trees of Big Basin State Park (where the yellow center line of the highway gives way to a somewhat vague-er “no line”), and encounter the cast of millions at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk (”in the warm California sun!”) All in all a Good Friday.

As always I was sad to part ways with The Lettow, but I take heart in the fact that the O’Rumsey Affaire is to be held in less than two weeks. We get (a.) what I hear will be a fantastic “smashing-together” of a wedding ceremony, (b.) to enact a great border escape once Jessi & Stacy get caught perpetrating hijinx on the Candian Empire (I’ll bring my burglar’s tools), (c.) to dance, oh to dance, and (d.) an ewaz sighting? There’s mucho, mucho more but don’t thank me yet. De nada.

whizz

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Happy Early Birthdays to whazzmaster’s own bellygirl. How old are you, old lady? Gettin up there near your husband, I suppose. And you’llc elebrate the special day how? Tequila in TJ? Fish Tacos at South Beach? Is Parker gonna lick cake off your face? Let us know how the day goes; if it was a weekend I’d just fly down and party with you. Que sera, I’ll have to imagine the fun times you’ll have. Don’t let wwhazz give you any guff, he should have to do shots and dance cuz it’s your b-day.

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Saw on the Journal-Sentinel site today that the heat index was supposed to be around 95 in Wisconsin today. Subsequently I realized that I hadn’t heard the term “heat index” for a long time. You grow up in the midwest and you’re used to weatherpersons bombarding you with multiple temperatures year-round. In the summer you’ve got your “jesus-it’s-hot” temperature and then you’ve got your “kill-me-now-but-peel-the-soaking-clothes-off-my-wet, dead-skin-before-you-bury-me temperature with the heat index”. In the winter, you’ve got your “holy-balls-it’s cold” temperature and then you’ve got your “if-you-touch-my ears-I-swear-to-god-they’ll-crack-the-fuck-off temperature with the wind chill.” Out west it’s either hot or cold; the temperature people never really get more specific than that.

Scientist should be back from his HONEYmoon sometime next week. Hope they didn’t get lost in the bermuda triangle or anything.

HOLLLARIT!

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3 Dapper Gentlemen
Originally uploaded by Whazzmaster.

Three years is a long time in the Internet Age. It’s long enough for a dude to move into a veritable mansion, make a few hit singles, and then give up his day job to play poker and marry a nice Occupational Therapist from Minnesnowta. Let’s give it up for the madd scientist; that kid’s alright. More than alright.
If there’s two people that have influenced my worldview more than any other, post-divorce, it’s Madd and Wwhazz. I was your typical bling-bling software engineer, always looking for the next big screen TV or all-inclusive resort package in Napa. Scientist was pretty blunged too, after a fashion. Now, however, he eschews flash and style for simple pleasures. The kid likes internet poker and disc golf. He has a dog that looks like an athletic sock stuffed to bursting. I’ve seen him insulted or hated on in ways that would turn my rage-o-meter to 12, but he takes the long view and is a calm, tranquil island of confidence and happiness. That appeals the hell outta me, and I offer nothing but the sincerest hopes that his happiness lasts a long time. For awhile there I wasn’t sure dude was gonna live to see 30, but he’s turned into a stately sage that I know I’ll turn to next time I need an explanation of Alan Greenspan sliding backwards down a Laffer Curve into a black hole. Really makes me wish he still lived here.
You can click through the to the Flickr wedding set to see all the pictures (and there are some awesome ones you’ll want to see) but I thought I’d highlight a few awesome moments during the week.
First up: Most In-Poor-Taste Gambling Moment of the week was when Scientist’s brosef-in-law Kevin broke me off for $48 in disc golf (my first time ever) and then called in my marker at a bar without giving me a chance to win it back. My goal was to turn up the heat on him until he withered and cracked, but instead I just had to cover his bar tab. Ugh.
Second: Scientist’s uncles completely fucked his car during the reception. They got his keys and wrapped the whole thing crossways in plastic wrap, then unrolled a whole thing of duct tape around that, then took out several fuses that made shit start, then unplugged a bunch of wires under the dash, then spray-painted cocks all over it. Wwhazz and I agreed that it was a tiny bit of karma for all the things Scientist has drunkenly stolen, broken, and just generally wrecked over the last 5-10 years.
Third: After the reception closed down and we went back to the hotel, but before we went down to the hotel bar, we dressed up nicely in our tuxedos, put on Wwhazz’s lucha libre mask, and started running around the pool. Yes, we have pictures. Yes, they are awesome.
Fourth: The sleeper sofa in the suite madd rented was factory-new and had a giant nylon strap holding it closed. With no modern-man tools, the gentlemen retreated to the stone age to conquer the beast: a sharp piece of metal and fire. Scientist only allowed the Fire Plan to proceed once he’d filled a bucket with water and stood at the ready. Fire worked, strap burned off, sleeper sofa opened, good night.
Fifth: The night of the rehearsal dinner I challenged Madd to a dance contest at Alleygators and soundly beat him, there’s also some good pictures of that in the set.
Sixth: I ate BW3 twice on this trip. I can’t get enough of that place; if I lived in the midwest I’d weigh a skrillion pounds.
Seventh: LADave is no longer LADave, but since I refuse to call him RacineDave he will continue to be referred to as LADave.
Eighth: “HOLLLARIT” was not said 800 times this trip, but “HOLLLARIT QUINCY” was said 300.
Thanks for the swell weekend, mike & rachel. You guys are A-Plus for throwing that shindig and I wish more of the whazzmaster krew could have been there. I appreciate all the posting that maddddd does around here to perk things up when they slow down, and here’s to praying that now that he’s married he won’t give up wm.com. C’mon mrssssssssssssssss, join in the fun and post nonsense; start with a nautical shanty.
Happy marriage you guys, have a good honeymoon in that hurricane.

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I don’t have the time to build the Weekend Post right now, but the wedding indeed went off without a hitch. Nigh han, sir, HOLLLARIT QUINCE, “I’m the Juggernaut, bitch.”, etc. I learned how to play Disc Golf and lost $53 playing it. I saw Stacy again, which was awesome, and acquired my own Lucha Libre mask. I’ll get the pictures uploaded and really do the event justice. Til then, feel free to talk amongst yourselves for today.

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CAL+RAJ
Originally uploaded by Whazzmaster.

My body hurts like hell for a variety of reasons but none moreso than the fact that I sat in the outfield at McAfee Coliseum with no shirt or sunscreen on for a few hours. Oh Whazzmaster, you so crazy.

The other day I decided I wanted to organize a tailgate at a baseball game this week. I didn’t particularly care where, but when I found out that the Twins were coming to town to play the Athletics I knew I’d be able to throw a rope around Cal and drag him out of his hiding place in San Francisco. I sent out a feeler email on Wednesday to see who would answer the call, and managed to get a few responses. So GMC and I rode over in the EnviroKiller™ while Greg, Cal, Emilie, and Ronni rode over on the BART.

Maybe I went a bit overboard buying a case of High Life cans and a 12er of High Life Lite bottles, but I refuse to dwell on that. In any case, Greg somehow contracted with a Twins Tour Group company to bring an avalanche of people down on our humble tailgate. Soon we were all trying to figure out who knew who and what right they had to be reaching for my goddamned bottle of ketchup. In the end Cal threw a small fit and we hastily entered the game while more than 1/2 of the beer still chilled (at a cost of $0) in our cooler in the car. He had his little scorebook with him, too, which I hadn’t seen in a while.

I had a snow cone in the bleachers. It was good until I kicked it over, then I was sad.

After the A’s shut down the Twins in the late innings we had to hustle out of there to get GMC back to Pacifica to his work. I was so sunburned and tired that after I dropped Ronni off back in the city I just fell asleep in the back of my truck in the parking lot at Winter’s. When I emerged several hours later Ryan was closing up the bar. He thought I’d gone home; nope, just passed out in my truck, dawg.

Today GMC, Blaine, and I are heading down to San Jose to visit the Jacobs Family. I need to cut this post short to run to the store and get stuff for dinner. It’s CROCK POT EXPERIMENTATION TIME!

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all dressed up
Originally uploaded by Whazzmaster.

Ktk’s wish is my command. BEHOLD, you cretins, what level of dressed-upedness a baby can achieve in our modern age! Looks kinda like a cross between a pear and strawberry. You guys bought some mega-diapers for that kid.

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