Road trip with 2 bitches, the finale

Since my last blog was a bit of a downer (holy understatement), I thought I'd lighten it up and finally finish the camping trip story. Only 3 months post-trip. I should just get "lazy" tattoo'd on my forehead.

It's been a while, so to get yourself up to speed, refer to the first 2 parts of this tale, located somewhere below. After you stop laughing at our immature antics and my storytelling artistry....here we go again.



Day 3 began much the same way day 2 did. I cracked a beer about 34 seconds after waking up, while the bitches looked at me in disgust. After lounging around for a bit and cleaning up the doritos we all threw at each other the night before, we decided to go for a drive. Every state with an inch of coastline has a town called Long Beach. So do half the islands in North America. This Long Beach claimed to have the "Longest beach in the world"...just like all the others all claim as well. We figured it was worth a looksee, so we headed in that direction.

The beach was huuuuge. Super wide, and it stretched as far as we could see. People were driving their jeeps up and down like it was a highway or something. After chasing seagulls and throwing seaweed at each other for a while, Jess decided the windy conditions were perfect for kite-flying. I differed on this opinion, cuz I'm not 9 years old anymore. Once bitch gets something in his head though, it's go time! We walked through a fair chunk of the town, eventually coming across a...I guess it's a kite store? A hobby shop? I dunno. I'm not saying we were too old to be in there...but I kept expecting Chris Hansen to jump out from behind a display...To Catch a Predator!

While Jess rummaged through kites like a spastic preteen, Jim and I played with the shop-owners friendly dog and made mature comments relating to Jess not hitting puberty yet. He finally settled on a 40+ dollar kite, and we went off in search of food, which turned out to be at a damn good seafood place. Post meal, we ended up in some sort of antique shop/freak show. This place was full of awesome.

There was Jake, the half alligator, half man. Seriously, look up this piece of work people...he's a man among gators. Something topped Jake though...an execution machine. You put in a quarter, and get to witness a little doll guy get offed. A guy about our age was standing beside us, in awe of this thing like we were, when his girlfriend yelled out for him to come over there. His response cracked us all up...

"I'll be there in a minute honey, I'm just watching an execution."

After that hilarity, we decided to hit up the arcade. They had air hockey! Oh this shit was ON. Jess and I played with so much aggression, our arms were totally done by the end of 3 games...and after the arcade lady told us to keep it down a few times cuz we were shit-talking. I won every game. Even if I didn't, it was 3 months ago and my memory is a little foggy, and it's MY BLOG, BITCHES!

After some native ice-cream (don't ask), it was time to head back into Disappointment, stopping along the way for a shitload of alcoholic energy drinks (that were 99 cents each!) at the redneck store. On the way, Jim decided he was gonna be Mario Andretti on the windy road up to the park. After 10 painstaking minutes of him jawing about what a good driver he was, and weaving back and forth like a drunk trucker, he came up to the last big turn before the park.

And missed it.

Well, he didn't really miss it...but that was kinda dramatic, wasn't it? Anyways, he ALMOST missed it....after overcompensating to one side, we were about a foot from going right off the road, into a huge ditch and some trees. I guess it would be fitting if we died in a place like Cape Disappointment, but alas, Jim got us there alive...and with soiled underpants.

Back to the yurt we go, we go...Jim decides to go for a shower, while Jess and I decide to go to the beach and see if he can fly his expensive kiddy toy. After we walk all the way there, Jess realizes he locked the yurt, and Jim can't get in. After laughing about this for a few minutes, we decided to go back...Jim was not a happy camper. GET IT?

Driving like a down's kid and being angry made Jim a tired little guy, so he went for his daily nap. Jess and I went back to the beach, energy booze in tow. It took about 2 minutes for me to realize that dollar energy booze cans and a tard with a kite are MAGIC when brought together. I laughed so hard, my stomach hurt for hours. First, he couldn't get the thing to take off...then when he finally did (with my help), he tripped and fell in the sand. Attempt 1 - failed. After somehow getting it back into the air again...while running backwards, he tripped over a huge rock...let go of the kite, did a backwards flip/roll over said rock into the sand, and watched in vain while his new toy ended up in the cold ocean. 2 seconds later, he got up and chased after it, shoes and all, right into the water...and got drenched from the knees down or so. I'm laughing right now while thinking about it, 3 months later. It was awesome. Unfortunately, karma comes in many packages, and I would be on the receiving end of laughter a short time later.

After taking 10 or so minutes to laugh hysterically at the situation and finish our energy booze, we headed back to wake up Jim and go back to the Killer Jetty!

Upon arrival at said jetty, Jess decided he was gonna attempt another kite-flying adventure on the beach there, due to the higher winds. I didn't think he could top the incident earlier, so I took off down the jetty. The waves were MUCH bigger than the day before, crashing right over the top onto the other side. I hung out for a while, drinking my energy booze and chillin, till bitch squared finished up with the kite and came out to where I was. I knew where Jess was standing was wave territory, but I didn't say anythin...sure enough, 2 minutes later, KABOOM. Jess is pretty wet. Jim and I are pretty amused. This cape was not disappointing me when it came to harassing Jess. But wait...do you hear that sound?

That's karma knocking at the door! Or jetty. Or whatever.

We walked down a little bit more, but stayed safely away from wave county. Or so I thought. We started talking to some other people that were out there, and a guy was telling a pretty interesting story about the jetty. Next thing I know, KABOOM. I'm fucking soaked. Not "I jumped into the shower for a couple of seconds" soaked. I was "somebody just dropped me into a fucking dunk tank" soaked. It wasn't pleasant. Well, it wasn't for me anyways...the bitches practically fell down laughing at me. Stupid jetty. Stupid karma.

We're all gettin hungry by this point, so we went back to the yurt, got changed into DRY clothes, and went to the pub in Ilwaco. Come on...it's not a real camping trip without a pub trip! Not a fucking soul was in the place other than us and 2 employees. My food and beer were fine. The bitches, not so much. Jim called it "the worst meal he's ever had". That's gotta suck. Oh well, mine was good!

On the drive back (a much safer drive this time, due to darkness), we came across a whole lotta deer. Jess got outta the car, and crept closer to take a good pic. The deer were nice and tame...till bitch went fucking berserk, screamed, and charged at them for some reason. Shockingly, Bambi and crew ran for their lives. I still dunno why he did it, but it was super funny.

Anyways, back to the yurt., and then back to the beach. In the dark and the rain. There were a billion baby shrimp running around, and even more little wormy bug thingers jumping around too. I'm pretty sure that's the scientfic name for them. We sat down for probably 30 seconds, and were covered in them. Not so much fun. The bitches then decided it would be funny to run away and shut off the flashlights. That wasn't so much fun either...for me, anyways. It was pitch fucking black. I fell. They laughed. What a surprise.

Back to the yurt. And guess who's back? Our raccoon friends. And they brought the family...there were at least 5, probably 6 of them. We fed them every scrap of food we had, and watched them fight and yelp and do lotsa other funny stuff. They were eating right out of our hands, just chillin with us. Since they kept taking the food off the deck, we decided to see if they'd take something else with them:




Jim's beer! He grabbed it, and tried to scurry off with it...but obviously he couldn't open it. (On a side note, Jim had no idea it was actually one of his beer that klepto-coon stole until he saw this pic after the trip.) Since he couldn't open the beer, Jess decided to give him another treat...

Baileys!

Note to future campers - raccoons like baileys. A lot. Jess poured a bunch onto the deck, and the little guy licked it all up. After a little bit, he decided to freak the fuck out on the other raccoons. Then he staggered around. Then he actually came up beside us, and fucking went to sleep, lying flat out, right beside the fire! It was almost as funny as Jess falling over the rock. Almost. He stayed there for 20 minutes or so, having a snooze, oblivious to us...then got up and took off with the rest of his friends. Good times, good times.

Nothing could top the hijinks of the day, so we just drank a few more beers and tried to watch Knocked Up again on the laptop. I think I passed out before the opening credits were over, and my snoring ensured the bitches couldn't enjoy the movie...so they gave up too.

Next day, we got up and came home. I don't remember anything eventful happening that day, other than us deciding that we had a damn good time, and will do it again ASAP. Between nature kicking the shit out of us, boozed-up/candy-stealing coons, and the rest of the hilarity involved in anywhere us 3 go....Cape Disappointment gets a thumbs up.

Read and remember. Please.

My Weekend.

WARNING: I change tenses a lot here, from past to present to future. Bear with it, it's part of my charm.

I arrived the night before the event (friday night) with my dad and my stepbrothers/stepsister. We did what we do best...got drunk with Curtis. A few hours later, my sister Renee showed up with her husband, and a litter of children. Drinks were had, Wii was played, everything was pretty normal. Ya know, as normal as funeral eve's get. A lot of people crashed there that night, and I was content with a couch and a drinking partner. Alas, due to Budweiser, Gibson's Whiskey, and grief, Curtis and I Wii-bowled till 5:30AM and discussed many things. I began to understand more than I ever imagined about the man I call my brother, and always will. No one is ever gonna leave your side bro. No one.

2 hours later, I woke up sweating, literally stuck to a leather couch, with a dog nose in my face. Joyous. The only thing that made me feel better about being this hungover was seeing Curtis stagger into the kitchen to answer the already-ringing phone a few minutes later. If I had to feel this shitty, at least I had company...I know he was just as fucking hungover as I was. I managed to unstick myself for the couch, which fucking hurt, and realized my pockets full of change had made their way into the bowels of my bed for the night. Oh well...donating 9.47 to Curtis and his couch was the least I could do. Dogs, cats and kids woke up, the decibel level went up, and I reluctantly re-entered the aggravation I've dodged my entire life.

I felt like garbage, but wasn't sure what to do about it...till Curtis sat down next to my with his trusty Gibson's bottle and took a swig. It might have been early, but I couldn't let him drink alone...good brothers don't do this kind of thing. Hello, Coors Light. Nice to see ya. I got a dirty look from nearly everyone for cracking a beer at 9AM, but they can go and make sweet love to themselves. If they wanna deal with their issues with tears and embraces, go ahead...that's not my fucking thing. For better or worse.

Suddenly, I'm in a hall normally reserved for drinking. A legion. If you've ever spent any time in this environment, you start to understand that a memorial service is pretty similar to your average tuesday afternoon up in a place like this. Men in uniform (or long past such trivial matters) sit around old tables with adult beverages, speaking of fallen comrades and "the good ole days". But today, my sister is that comrade, and those days are not so far gone. They were last week, and a saturday the month before that, and the celebration of another special life a couple of summers ago. Today, this place has balance...half of the people wear the uniforms of our country's finest, of which my sister was a proud member. A select few wore the pink pajamas my sister spent much of her spare time in...and the rest of us wore whatever the hell we felt like, as per Jenner's wishes.

The days leading up to this event have been filled with heartache and acrimony for many people involved, and things are not about to resolve themselves peacefully today. Her kids, my niece and nephew, are standing in front of me...confused and scared, unsure about what their future holds. 12 and 11. So impressionable. Their mom may be somewhere else, but they are not alone. Many in the room have a vested interest in their lives, and these people are just as confused and worried about how this will all play out. As important as all this stuff is, the people in this unique place of worship and death have silently agreed to set aside the next few minutes to honour the memory of someone they all hold in high regard.

People talk. The words are a blur. I'm staring at flags, at my watch, at everything but reality.

The unspoken words of Curtis resonate through the place like thunder, as much as his words did. We understand, man, as much as we can. You made me proud.

Renee is strong, articulate, and witty...the yin to my yang. I can write it here, long after the fact...but she can stand up like an adult and say it. Her words were broad and powerful. She managed to make everyone there feel like she was speaking directly to them, like no one else was in the room. She said many nice things about me up there, including compliments on my writing. And she made 100+ people stare at me. Thanks Renee! In all seriousness, sis, my writing doesn't hold a candle to your presence and personality. You made a lot of people feel really good about themselves. Jenner would be proud of you.

The power of a terrible disease was never more evident than the words expressed by the third and last official speaker at the ceremony, Jen's friend Debbie. She had known Jen a relatively short time, but Debbie had overcome cancer, and she was a true friend and sounding board for my sister. Her words were heartfelt and honest, and despite never laying eyes upon the lady until she grabbed that mic, I could see what my sister saw in her. Inspiration.

The floor is opened to anyone who wants to speak. My dad is the first volunteer. His monotone words about my mother and sister are too much for me, and I am overcome by emotion, hoping that all those people staring at me 2 minutes ago are somehow in the bathroom, or staring at the ceiling or something. I hadn't cried since the same man spoke of my mother when she passed 2 1/2 years ago, when he managed to crack up both myself and Mikey, my brother in arms. Today, I had no Mikey at my side...but I'm not ashamed to say that my lip was quivering, salty tears invaded my cheeks, and I was heartbroken. And I'm not afraid to say that as I type these words, 38 hours later...I'm wiping the same tears off the same cheeks. I've never met anyone, nor will I ever again, that will ever have that power over me. That's a testament to the greatest man I've ever known. Fred Ingram. I hope he reads this someday, so he gets it. Too bad he's allergic to the internet. : )

After that, others spoke. Members of the military spoke highly of service. Friends spoke highly of her compassion and caring nature. Everyone spoke of her stubbornness...highly or not, it was worth mentioning. : ) Sheila spoke of Jenner's love of camping, and cracked up everyone in the room after mentioning her love of tie-dye...and jello shooters. Amber, with nothing prepared beforehand, was able to define the essence of what Jenner was all about with a few short words. If anyone knew how much love Jen had in her core, it was Amber. Amber, you were Jenner's best friend...her connection to her youth, her litmus test as a mother, her sounding board, and most of all, the bestest big sister you could be to Chimene and Brandon. Thanks for tellin everyone that I'm your homey...obviously, the feeling is mutual. You're the only one I watched while they made their speech. It was all kinds of awesome. You did good....werd.

I guess you're wondering by now whether I got up and said anything. No, I did not. While I had enough to say to fill hours, days, and stadiums...I couldn't do it. As stated above, I'm much better at the written word. Jenner knew that, and was okay with it. She told me so. If I had, I dunno, 350-27,000 words though, here's what I would have said:

Jenner, you trusted me, and respected my opinion. No adult ever did before you. You came to me when times were hard, and actually asked my opinion. When I was helpful, you told me. And when I wasn't, you told me as well. You trusted me with those midget kids of yours when they were just leetle, and tried to give me part of the credit for them turning out as well as they have, deserved or not. It took a long time for me to understand the influence I wielded in your life. The confidence you showed in me and my judgement helped build the foundation for who I am today. No one has ever had the faith in me that you had. No one.

Everyone figured we were exactly alike. Every day I get accused of being just like my sister Jennifer, and I couldn't think of a bigger compliment. When mom died, you were there, right beside me. I knew I'd wake up in the morning, and you'd be there to laugh at my terrible jokes...and vice versa. Mostly yours, but hey, who's counting. Ya know what? When all this went down, that made me wanna get outta bed in the morning, no matter how terrible I felt. So I could make other people laugh, and ease their pain. These people...Curtis, of course....Chimene, Brandon...Dad, and Amber, and Val, and Justin n Jeff, Renee, Jonanthan, and their midgets, and Gerry...that's your legacy, along with many others. They make me laugh, just like you would. You would have laughed at Amber, Val, And Justin in Jenner-style pink pajamas. At Sheila talking bout you and your Jello Shots. At your military superiors commenting on your legendary stubbornness. At Renee talking about the f'n terrible clothes you used to wear back in the day.

I'm sorry I didn't get up and tell them all this. You know me. I'd rather be read than heard. Renee is the talker, I'm the writer. I hope you're not mad. Ya know, even if ya are...screw you! Next time our paths cross, I'm gonna tell you about all the awesome jokes I came up with! They're terrible and wrong, and everyone would condemn me to some bad places for coming up with them, but you woulda laughed your ass off. You're the only one that ever appreciated that kinda shit, and vice versa. Even when mom died, we mighta offended a lot of people, but we sure fuckin entertained each other! Yours were worse than mine...YEAH!...but I'll be goddamned if you didn't have me in tears from laughter every day. When your bench at Hatley is done and there....I'm gonna show up and tell you the worst jokes possible...jokes only you and I would appreciate. Screw the rest of em if they don't understand....I can just imagine the hilarity you'd get outta seeing me talking to a bench.

Jenner, always remember this...I've said it before to you...but....



No matter what they told you, you're not alone

I'll be right beside you

Forevermore.



I love you Jenner. Sweet dreams.

10 reasons why Vancouver transit sucks a dick

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Road trip with 2 bitches, part 2

You should know what you're reading...no need to recap. If you are click happy and ended up here by mistake...stay, read, tell your friends.

Onto...

Day 2
Upon departure from the futon of death, I headed straight to the cooler for a tasty adult beverage. Bitch and bitch were obviously not hardened campers like me, and chose sobriety and packing over laziness and drinking. Rookies. Well...they were the ones doing the driving. I guess that's a valid reason. If you're one of THOSE kinda people.

Due to the wonders of geography, 90% of our drive that day was through Oregon, even though we were going from a place in Washington, to a place...in Washington. It was about a 2 hour drive from Paradise Point to Cape Disappointment. Jim and Jess started bickering by minute 2.

It was pretty funny, actually. Jim was super hungry. We'd drive through some village...Jess would ask if we should stop at the gas station on the left...Jim would interrupt with a restaurant request on the right...and before they could decide anything, we would be past them both, leaving said village. In addition to being hungry, Jim had no smokes. Thus, he was not a happy camper. GET IT? A HAPPY CAMPER? After multiple requests to "turn that frown upside down", Jim was starting to crack. This was the beginning of his "I'm gonna punch you in the face" threats. Sadly, this threat never came to fruition, despite my best attempts.

Due to my awesome navigation skills, we managed to make it to Astoria. It was pissing rain, but we hung out on the pier for a bit, checking out the wildlife and such. Tim was compared to the sea lion in front of us. How original. Bastards. We had lunch in town at a nice waterfront restaurant (where the dumbass waitress forgot to bring my fat tire!), then walked around the town for a bit. I really like the place...although I'm not too sure why. The bitches didn't seem impressed.

Finally we got to one of the things I really wanted to check out....the uber-long bridge. It's 4.1 miles, across the mouth of the columbia river, back into Washington. The weather was shit, so we couldn't see the other side till we were within a mile of it. The bridge was...well, a bridge. After we got across, I realized something...why the fuck was I so excited to see a bridge? I = weird.

After a little while, we stumble upon the area we're supposed to be at. We drive past Ilwaco, up to a lighthouse. The weather had not improved at all, but we went to check it out. Bitch and bitch bust out their trusty Walmart ponchos. I wear my hoody. They look queer. I look...well, like a fat drunk. I guess it's a tie?

The wind was unbelievable up at the lighthouse...it was awesome. It was strong enough to almost knock me over, which is quite a feat. After goofing around in the rain/wind, and listening to Jim's pathetic "I'm gonna push you off the cliff, dilly bar!!"* threats, we went back to to the car, and back to Ilwaco to buy beer/water/elephants.

* He started calling me dilly bar on the drive down. Like a lot of what Jim says, I have no idea where this came from.

The store was your typical redneck haven o' shopping. Chew, live bait, liquor, and diapers all in the same aisle. No elephants though. Denied! The counter woman looked at our ID's, and asked me "Arr yew awl fishermen, on a boat?" Uhhh...what?

We managed to escape unharmed, and headed to...Cape Disappointment!

The cabin we rented was pretty shitty, and was located right next to the camp host. Since we are now full-on YURTHEADS (It's my blog, I'll invent brutal words if I want to dammit!), we went back to the front and requested a change of residence. We were rewarded with a dope yurt, in an area with no other campers/yurtheads as far as the eye could see. Now we're talkin.

I opened a beer approximately 11 seconds after we got there. Go Keystone Light! I was stuck with the top bunk in this yurt, even after explaining that my manatee-like body could collapse the thin piece of plywood seperating me from Jess, who was sleeping below. My logic was veto'd.

Jim is a hardcore dude, so after all this excitement, he needed...a nap. After laughing at him for a bit, Jess and I decided to go to the park store. When we arrived, we were greeted by a redneck woman outside her truck, who looked like she was talking to a bush. Umm...okay. It was only after she moved her dumpy ass outta the way, that we saw...a raccoon. With no tail. Standing on his hind legs, staring at us. Not scared in the least. Umm...okay.

We went into the store and asked about said raccoon...the lady told us that he was attacked by a cougar, and nursed back to health by the owner of the store. When they released him back into the wild...he didn't leave. He just hangs out by the store. The lady then told us that the little guy waits for people to come into the store, follows them in, steals candy bars from the rack by the door, and takes off before the door shuts! This was the best story I heard on the whole trip. Priceless...I couldn't stop laughing.

Jess ended up buying a can of beans, and we left. After returning to our yurt and waking up city boy, we went to check out what this place had to offer. First stop: Killer Jetty. For the uninformed:

jet-ty - a pier or structure of stones, piles, or the like, projecting into the sea or other body of water to protect a harbor, deflect the current, etc.



It was pretty long...at least a km, probably more. Waves were crashing up on the jetty a little bit, but nothing insane. Jim and I walked pretty far out along it and drank a beer, while artsy bitch took pictures of birds and waves n shit. The view was pretty cool...I was very impressed.

And then....



Jim got eaten by a wave!! YES!

Actually, he wasn't that wet...but it was still pretty funny, and good timing by Jess.

After our jetty antics, we returned to the yurt. The weather wasn't cooperating very much...thus, the fire Jess attempted to make fizzled out quicker than Jim's patience. Jess had bought a can of beans, but had no way to A) open the can; B) cook the beans on the fire; and C) get the beans from the can to his mouth, assuming he solved A and B. After somehow opening the can, and constructing some sort of retarded cupholder out of a metal hot dog stick, he managed to cook the fucking beans...and ate them with his finger. Reason number 29 why this was retarded? The dipshit doesn't even like beans!

An executive decision was made to retire to the yurt for the night to play poker and watch a movie on un laptop de artsy bitch. And drink beer. We started watching 1408...it blew. A side effect of beer drinking though, is the constant need to...ya know, take a piss. I was waaaay too lazy to actually step off our deck and walk over to a tree, so I pissed off the side. After finishing up, I turn around to come back inside and observe...

A big fucking raccoon making a beeline for the open yurt door. And he had a tail.

I've had my fair share of raccoon issues in the past (see Toronto hostel blog, circa 2004), so I did what any man would do. I screamed like a girl, ran inside, slammed the door, and told the bitches of my encounter with the hippo-sized carnivore.

Of course, I was greeted with laughter and ridicule. Guilty as charged.

Jess jumped up right away, opened the door, and coaxed the man-eater up onto the deck. He didn't eat Jess. And he wasn't hippo-sized. He was...well, raccoon-sized. And friendly. A couple of his friends eventually joined him too. The bitches proceeded to feed them for a little while, while I drank on my safe top bunk. I was shouting stuff like "THOSE ARE WILD ANIMALS! DON'T FEED THEM OUTTA YOUR HANDS! YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY! YOU COULD GET RABIES!"

Suddenly, I was 85 years old or something.

They took off after a while, and we returned to 1408. It was just as bad as pre-raccoon. Jim started the gas party with some napalm-like farts. Being on the top bunk for this did not make me a HAPPY CAMPER! GET IT? Alas, Jess and his beans soon returned the favour. Jess bareass-farted on Jim's head while he was busy watching the movie. Bare ass people. He was not amused, since he probably had poo particles in his hair n shit. Jess and I laughed for a long ass time. More "I'm gonna punch you in the face" threats ensued. Fun was had.

After that hilarity, we started watching Knocked Up, but we all just passed the fuck out before it was over. And Jim smelled like Britt poo.

This is pretty long, so I'll finish it up in a seperate entry.

Road trip with 2 bitches, part 1

About a month ago, Jess and I decided we need a mini-vacation. We floated a few ideas around, but the best one seemed to be the Oregon/Washington Coast. We looked into camping...but camping in October = wet and cold. And let's face it, Jess and I are crybabies. So we found the next best thing...yurts!

A yurt is a mongolian tent thinger, with a roof. Circular, 16 ft around. Has a bunkbed and futon couch inside, wood floors, lights, electricity, and heat.





There, that's a yurt. Tim's new, improved blogs come with pictures! Contain your joy.

Anyways, there weren't a ton of choices for these lovely yurts, since a lot of them were already reserved. We settled on 1 night at Paradise Point, in southern WA, and 2 nights at...Cape Disappointment! I know, brutal name. It's on the southwestern tip of WA, a few miles from the Oregon border. Pardon the pun, but it most definitely did not disappoint.

Oh yea, we also recruited the other bitch for the trip, Jim. He needed a break from the rigors of watching concerts and getting drunk. Just kidding, little guy.

Day 1

Sane people leave for a trip when they get off work on friday, right? Nope, not us. Jess had school. On saturday. SATURDAY! And he can't miss a class, cuz his 450 lb teacher will end him. That, and he's a huge nerd who loooves to learn. So bitch went to school saturday till 11AM or so, then came and got me. We braved cambie construction to go get Jim...then back to Jess's...then get the rental car...in other words, we didn't cross the border till closer to 3:30pm. We got grilled at the border by a low-rent Dave Chappelle about our intentions in the states, then it was off to Jack In the Box. Where I think I saw Jana.

After that, we were off. Dipshits 1 and 2 decided stopping every 3rd exit was a good idea, so we didn't get to Paradise Point till about 9:45. We stopped at: 2 gas stations, WalMart, a closed liquor store, and another gas station. And went BACK to the last gas station after we got there. We gassed up exactly once. You do the math.

I did get a cool camo hat at a gas station for 5.99...and found the same hat 10 minutes after at walmart for 2 bucks. Bastards. Bitch squared got ponchos and various other retarded things at walmart. And I couldn't figure out how to use the automated checkout stand. And they made fun of me. Well played, assholes.

Jim was not amused that I forgot to change money before we crossed the border, so I had 200 canadian on me...and no one would take it. We traded 60 bucks (how cool is it to trade USD for CAD straight up?), and he whined for all 3 days about how he was short on american...even though he still had more than enough. Can you tell he's related to Jess?

By the way, let me make the joke for you, since you're probably thinking it....yes, 3 men went to a place called Paradise Point. Yes, that sounds slightly sexually challenged. Yes, I was even mounted by another man there. Wait, what? I'll get to that later. But for the record, this location choice was purely coincidental, and is not a reflection of the sexuality of me or Jess. Jim...still not so sure.

Paradise Point was not exactly Eden. It was about 32 feet off the interstate, actually. After cracking a beer, checking out the yurt, and making fun of the korean family in the next yurt (does it smerr rike flied puppy face to you? Are they BBQing?), Jess attempted to make a fire. Jim thwarted all such attempts. Jess got annoyed. Jim laughed. After 2 hours, an entire bottle of lighter fluid, and burning every piece of paper we had, Jess had finally made a fire. A shitty fire, but a fire nonetheless.

For some reason, Jess the Brilliant claimed the top bunk before we left, on my facebook wall. For the world to see. Why? I have no idea...who the fuck wants the top bunk? He tried to deny he staked this claim, but it's documented ON THE INTARWEB! Internet 1, Jess 0. Anyways, I got the futon. It had two wooden pegs holding it in position as a couch. Take pegs out, voila...a bed. One problem with this.

Attached to the pegs are big, hammer-like wooden ends. These things were big fucking mallets.

As soon as we figured that out, we beat the living shit out of each other with them, of course. Jess destroyed my knee. I clubbered Jim a couple times. Jim was not amused, so he climbed up onto the top bunk, and frogsplashed me from the top. Twice. Then proceeded to climb on top of me and "pink belly" me. This was as disturbing as it sounds, people. He sat on my back and slapped my gunt until it turned pink. I was powerless to stop him, because he had full mount. FULL MOUNT! If I had flattened out in an escape attempt, it was rear naked choke time, and I'm done like dinner. Don't mess with the rear naked.

Yup, rear naked and pink belly in the same paragraph. See why I'm still a little worried about him? I can just see the hamster in Ottawa Mike's head running like hell on his wheel, churning out 40 homo jokes a second. By the end of this, he should have more material than a pair of Rosie's pants.

Anyways, these 2 sissies were completely shitfaced off of 6 beers a piece. I had consumed 6 tallies, and 6 regulars...and was fine. Jim passed out first, cuz he was "soo drunk", and me n Jess bullshitted about hockey for hours till we finally passed out.

Part 2 will include - plenty of Jim-Jess disagreements, nature's wrath, raccoon hijinks, rednecks, malt liquor energy drinks, air hockey injuries, almost dying, and me winning the mother of all arguments. Stay tuned.

I feel cheated

I'm a little behind the times in regards to this, but it's an absolute fucking travesty. The government is creating laws out of thin air, just to make sure canadians cannot possibly be entertained. I hope you will join me in signing a petition repealing this stupid and pointless law.

Read for yourself. I'll send the link to the petition if you're willing to help me out with this.

http://www.ontla.on.ca/web/bills/bills_detail.do?locale=en&BillID=1128

Wow...

My favourite wrestler killed his family, and himself. I think I need to re-evaluate whom I consider a role model.

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,286673,00.html

Funny

Check this pic.



What the fuck is the kid 3rd from the left?

He's an oompa loompa!

Conclusion - Sacramento/Yosemite

I'm a lot less sober than the last entry, so maybe I'll get some comments this time. Apparently writing sober doesn't equal feedback!

I'd like to start this blog with a thank you. It has absolutely nothing to do with my trip...but I had some people over tonight, to play some cards and such. Before they arrived, I had 14 beers in the fridge. By the time they left, I had consumed 14 beers. And...I now have a grand total of 20 drinks in my fridge. Coronas, Kokanees, frilly girl drinks, you name it. In case you cared...I love my friends! If this blog doesn't make sense...blame them, dammit.

Okay, back to the trip.

Bitch and I got up early, and took a cab to the airport. The SD airport is super close to the city, which is very nice. In case you misssed it, I love SD. We were on separate flights to Sacramento though. Jess wanted United air miles, so he booked a flight that connected in San Fran. I flew direct on Southwest. This meant my flight left a half hour later than his, and arrived 1.5 hours before his.

Or so we thought.

Upon airport arrival, he checks in, and has to deal with a security lineup longer than a needle exchange on Hastings. Me? I waddle down to Southwest, check in, and deal with approximately 4 people in the security lineup. Yes, I am a walking advertisement for Southwest. Anyways, I board, and enjoy a nice comfy, half full flight to the state capital.

Jess...not so much.

On the flight, I started talking to the girl next to me, who, SURPRISINGLY, talked back! She wasn't uber hot...but hey, neither am I, right?

Oddly, she had to wait for someone from another flight like I did, so after we landed we ended up hanging out in the baggage area for a while. Jess's flight was supposed to land at 10:28. At 10:26...I realized there's 2 terminals in the Sacramento airport.

And I was in the wrong one. Oops.

I ran (really, it happened) to the other terminal. Check the screens....his flight's on time. I'm 4 minutes late. Not so bad, he should show up soon. Or not.

15 minutes pass...30...45? The screen still says his flight is on time, but it doesn't say "arrived", like every other flight. very, very odd. I walk around the terminal, thinking I must be at the wrong place. No Jess. I did what any man would do in that situation.

I went to the f'n airport bar. God damn right.

After a beer or 2, I wandered back into the area he should be in. No Jess. Screen still says on time. I'm standing there, looking as thoughtless as normal...and some guy comes up and asks if "I'm Tim".

Last time I checked.....yup...that's me.

This guy was Jess's uncle, the guy that was supposed to pick us up from the airport, cuz we were stayin at his place. Apparently, Jess told him to look for "the biggest guy in the airport...he's wearing a stupid red jersey".

This is how I met Roger.

First thing he told me was that Jess's flight from SF to SAC was cancelled. I went to point out the screen of wisdom's contention that Jess's flight was "on time". When I got there...it said his flight was cancelled. Just like Roger said. DAMN. That motherfucking screen changed in 37 seconds, tops. Thus, I sounded retarded. Not the first time, don't worry.

Anyways, Roger talked to Jess, and there was a chance he might get on a flight leaving ASAP, so he suggested a beer at the bar. Well....duh. Fat kid...smartie....I was all over...piece it together yourselves.

After a couple there (that Roger paid for), Jess called Roger and told him that flight was killed too, so he was renting a car with some fellow stranded passengers, and would be there in 3 hours or so. Roger suggested we go for lunch "on the river", and we'd meet up with Jess when he got there. Sure, why not?

We went down to a place that was literally on the river, and had a great lunch...seriously awesome food, killer view, and Dos Equis Amber. Brilliant. And Roger paid for me again. Cuz I "was on vacation" or something. I want uncles like this!

Side note - this was the same river that 2 humpbacks ended about 100km up, accidentally. Right where we were. I didn't see no whales (no mirrors in the can), but it was pretty weird to find that shit out after I got home.

Anyways, bitch finally called and said he was close. We found him at a truck stop, servicing the driver for the ride. Okay, maybe not...but it made me laugh, dammit!

Roger took us to a grocery store, where I purchaaaayzed an 18 pack of miller lite for 10.99. That works out to like 61 cents a beer. I fucking love this place!! Bitch bought tequila and mix, Roger grabbed a case of Dos Equis Amber and the ass end of a cow, and we were off and running.

I'm not lying about the ass end of a cow....Roger BBQ'ed the thickest cut of meat I have ever seen. It was thicker than my gunt, no joke...but it was actual meat, very little fat. That shit was good, too!

Bitch and me were sittin inside after dinner. I was drinking my miller lites...Jess was drinking tequila on the rocks, cuz he's a homo like that. Anyways, after Jess takes a big sip of te-kill-ya, I did something dumb to make him laugh.

He manages to snort tequila into his sinuses...and it almost comes out his nose.

YES!

I don't think I've ever been that proud of myself...he had been teasing me all night...and quite effectively, I might add. Him snorting tequila was the ultimate comeback. He was FUCKED UP. Tears, whining, the whole deal. It was...redemption!

By the way, I'm not a big poodle fan...but Roger and his wife have the coolest poodle ever. It's sooo cute, and super smart. And it slept on the couch with me, so it was obviously cool. : )

I woke up the next day, and we went out for brunch. Normal, right? Well, we're sittin on the patio, and a whole wedding party shows up. On a friday. At noon. They all ate at the place, post-wedding. On friday. At noon. It was....well, fucking odd. 3 cheers for not being latino!

Around 2PM, we head south. Roger had just purchased a new GPS thinger, and it gave us directions to Yosemite. After a quick stop in Stockton for gas and a hat, we were on our way. Apparently the GPS has a hard-on for the long way...but eventually we showed up at our lodge outside of the actual park, where we had reserved a room. It's 5PM, the middle of nowhere....what do we do? Roger actually suggested the bar first...I'm almost jealous he's not my uncle.

The hotel bar has 6 people in it...us 3, the bartender, and an older couple. The older guy was talking about the 100 year anniversary of the rail link between yosemite and merced. Woo. Like we care. He says they interviewed him on the news, and he might be on TV tonight. Okay buddy. Not fucking 40 seconds after he says that, there he is on the damn TV. He was the star of the fucking story. Jess and I are staring at the Channel 5 news, at each other, then at buddy...then back at the TV. Fuck me, the guy next to me at the bar's on TV! In the middle of fucking nowhere!

After a good 4 hours, we've racked up a bill well over 100 bucks. And fucking Roger paid the bill! I was speechless....this man had no reason to be so nice to me, but he was. If you ever read this Roger, I am forever in your debt. Thank you.

Anyways, we all go back to the hotel room, but me n Jess weren't done yet. We went back to the hotel bar round 11:30, and played photo hunt till we closed the place. And I did a jager bomb, I think. Ugh.

Next morning, we headed off to Yosemite. Seriously, no blog will ever do this place justice. It is, quite simply, nature's paradise. Waterfalls beyond belief, mountains beyond that, and everything in between. Fuck, when we finally pulled into a parking spot near the visitors centre....Jess tried to take a pic of a woodpecker...and a coyote ran right up to us. Not scared in the least. He chilled for a bit, then wandered away. It was surreal.

Roger came up with the idea for a hike, which sounded good to me, surprisingly. He said we'd hike a couple of miles to a waterfall. Cool. It's a waterfall.

Fuckin stupid liars.

I'm figuring level ground, right? Do the math. Water. Falls. To the fucking ground, right? Oh no. We hiked uphill...to the falls. What the fuck? It falls!

Just in case you drifted through logic 101...

Why am I hiking UPHILL to something that FALLS?

Anyways....apparently it was called the "mist trail". I called it the "7th circle of hell trail". Jesus fuck, it was straight uphill. Oooh, look at the pretty squirrel. Do I fucking care? My fat heart is going to explode on the pretty fucking squirrel!

I didn't think I'd come close to covering it all...till I got passed by a guy that was at least 146. No joke, this guy was motoring...ya know, for an old guy. There was no way I was gonna let Bob Barker get up this shit before me. OH HELL NO. I passed that old bastard when he got gassed on a huge upswing...and it doesn't make me a bad person to admit that I was proud. Pwned!

There's a bridge that gives you a beautiful view of the falls. It's about 2/3 of the way up...I honestly never thought I'd make it that far, but I did. It was worth it...it actually was really beautiful, or some other emo word for nice. Jess and Roger encouraged me to continue to the top, which I was convinced I might actually have a shot at. I kept going, up the mist trail...I was doing pretty good, actually. Well, for me. Then I came across...400 stairs.

400!

I've been hiking up the side of mount killafatty for 2 hours now...and you want me to climb 400 stairs. W...T...F. Fuuuck you mountain!

That was the peak of my yosemite adventures...literally. On the way down, I managed to piss people off though. This wouldn't be one of my stories if everyone left happy.

Some older dude (in his 50's?) said "I'm gonna go all the way" in reference to, ya know, the top of the trail. He was in a group w/ a semi-attractive blond girl, and a few other people. Once I saw blondie, I said "Shiiiit, I'll go all the way with her". She didn't hear me, cuz she had already passed me. Her friend did though.

"What the fuck did you say?"

She wasn't too bad either. Yosemite's bringing out the bitches! Anyways, I respond with my typical creativity....


"I'd go all the way with you too. What! Where you going?"

Yes, I left the park female-less. Contain your surprise.

We went up to El Centro, to celebrate the 100 year anniversary of the train. The same train buddy was hoggin TV time about the night before. Jess took some pics of said train, then we hung out w/ the locals. When I went to purchaaayze beer, the woman couldn't believe I was from BC. Apparently BC people didn't come to small towns to see american idol failures and eat 50 cent hot dogs. Who woulda thunk it?

We were doubting the GPS's powers, so we decided to take a different way home. I named the GPS Suzie, since her voice was kinda hot. Hey, I tagged a Suzie once, she was hot, and she had a very monotone voice. Leave me the fuck alone.

Suzie tried to fuck with us the whole way..."take a...U-Turn...here".....we'd ignore her drunken bitter rambling....0.7 miles away..."take a U-Turn...here...please?"

Fuck that bitch. We found our way back to Sacramento just fine. She wanted to go to Reno. I know it.

Anyways, we made it back to Sacramento. We drank. Sushi dinner, which I wasn't prepared for. More drinks, then sleep. They woke up at 6AM and took me to the airport.

I doubt Roger will ever read this, but thank you sooo much. I can't believe you're related to Jess. : ) If I ever get the chance, I will return your favours in kind.

I'll describe Portland in another short blog tomorrow.

Part 3...Tijuana/San Diego

Since a bunch of people have been bothering me about this, I thought I should continue the story. I'm at work...this means I'm sober...so this might not be as entertaining as usual. If you don't enjoy it...tough poopy. : )

I believe we had just caught a cab to the La Paz airport at the end of blog 2. This was uneventful. Get to the airport really early (Jess and I seem to do this a lot for some reason), and get a beer and some food. Before you check in for your flights here, you put your bags through a big screening machine. And then push a button attached to a huge stoplight. Green, you're good to go. Red, you get bumrushed by security. No, I'm not kidding. Anyways, we're both green, luckily.

After that, we come across 2 other mexican security guys who manually search checked baggage. You'd think the SCREENING MACHINE might cover this one...but nope. Of course, they spoke zero english. I didn't check any bags, so I was ignored. Jess, on the other hand, had to play charades with one guy for a few minutes. After a whole lot of hand signals and the word "shave" repeated about 70 times, the guy figured out Jess has an electric razor, no blades..and we were good to go, once again.

Get to the checkin counter finally...this guy speaks english. YES. Get exit row seats. YES. The guy at the next counter starts pointing at me and saying something in spanish to our checkin guy. NO. He repeats our last names to him. NO. The mexican dude keeps pointing and asking something. I'm starting to get worried. Then, in broken english...he asks if I'm "Fitzgerald". Umm...no...why? OH...I'm wearing a Larry Fitzgerald jersey...and this little guy thinks I play in the NFL.

Ya know...Larry's 6'3...I'm 6'6. Close there. Larry's bout 230. I was a long time ago. I'll give him a pass on that one. Larry's black. I'm white. Check please...

After all that, we get to our gate. The La Paz airport is huge compared to the Bellingham airport. It has 3 gates! Eventually our plane comes, and we sit down in our nice comfy exit row seats...me on the aisle, Jess by the window. About 8 seconds before takeoff, there's a mad mexican scramble. All these little guys RUN from the back of the plane, and jump into every exit row seat possible, including the one between Jess and I.

This makes zero sense to me. The tallest one in this group is 5'6, tops. What the fuck do they need extra legroom for? They could just prop their legs up on the tray table in front of them, stretch out, and have a fucking nap. Instead, poncho wants legroom, and both armrests. Him and Jess threw elbows for most of the trip...which was pretty funny, actually.

So we eventually arrive in the land I've heard so much scary shit about....Tijuana. Our goal is to get to San Diego in the safest manner possible. The guy at the greyhound window speaks no english. Great. All the other shuttles look pretty pricey. A cab to the border was 18 bucks...so we decided to go that route, and walk across. Apparently this is common. Lonely Planet said so.

There are cabs everywhere outside. And, for some reason, there are ticket windows for the cabs inside. 3 of them, all staffed by really really loud senoritas. All right next to each other. I walked within 20 feet of them, and they all started screaming at me...TAAAXXXXIIIIIII!!! Okay, I get it...the huge TAXI sign gave it away. I asked how much....they all said 18 dollars at the same time.

They're all the same price? Why the fuck would they even compete with each other then? And why yell so much?

Ahh, the million unanswerable questions that is Mexico.

So we find a cab, pay the guy who arranged the cab (not the driver...odd) and set off. Into the depths of hell. We ended up going down all these side roads...over speed bumps...through the ghetto of all ghettos. I've never seen anything like it. I was sure he was taking us somewhere to relieve us of our bags, money, and existence. We were skirting the border I guess, cuz a huge fence covered in barb wire extended as far as the eye could see. I'm not gonna lie, I was worried. Jess was too...I think he peed a little.

Eventually the driver stops, in front of a group of guys. He says "San Ysidro" (the border town on the US side), and we get out.

I don't see no border crossing.

Right away, a guy starts talking to us. Apparently, they're cab drivers. Umm okay...I just got out of a cab, dipshit. The first one tells us that walking across the border will take 2 1/2 hours, and he can drive us across in 5 minutes. This sounds like bullshit to me....so I just walk away. Jess follows me, reluctantly. I have absolutely no idea where I am, but anything seemed better than hanging out with Vatos Locos Forever over there. For once in my life, I guessed the right direction. After 2 minutes of walking, VOILA...I see the border.

The whole walkway is lined with stores...some duty-free, some crafts, pretty much some of everything. In 0.5km of walking, at least 15 people asked me to enter their store. I declined 15 times. Jess decided to duck into the last duty-free store, and bought the bottle of expensive tequila he was looking for. And it was actually cheaper than he saw it in Cabo. Score.

After we leave there, we walk around the corner to see a huge lineup, snaking away from a building. That stupid cabbie was telling the truth. Odd, didn't look like any border crossing I've ever seen. All these people had luggage too, which seemed weird. We walked up, and realized everyone in line was mexican. Everyone. Odd again. After a couple minutes, Jess realizes this isn't the border...it's some sort of immigration stop mexicans have to make to get into the US, I guess. So we kept walking.

Eventually, we reach customs/immigration. There are about 12 people in line in front of us. In about 2 minutes, I'm speaking to a border guard.

*Tim hands passport over*

"How long were you in Mexico?"

"3 da"

"Go ahead"

"ys..."

That was it. I was amazed. Jess didn't even get asked about his tequila when he came through. It was the easiest crossing into the US I've ever experienced, by far.

2 1/2 hours to walk across? FU Pablo. The best part was there was a HUGE car line...it probably took...oh, I dunno....2 1/2 hours to get across by car?

As soon as you step out of the building in San Ysidro, to your right is the San Diego trolley line. After going 2 stops too far (my awesome navigational skills went right back into the tank), and a short cabride, we were at our hotel. The glorious Super 8. A TV! Wireless internet! Soap! CIVILIZATION!

We got cleaned up, and went looking for food/beer/bitches. Just kidding Jamie...just food/beer. Found a liquor store, bought beer. Dropped that off, then went looking for food. Ended up walking all the way back to the trolley stop (it's not really a trolley...more like the skytrain). This was located next to a mall. An open air mall, in fact. A super nice open air mall. I'm not a mall guy, but this place was pretty cool. Grabbed food from the wetback taco shack, or something similar. Jess has a fish taco.

Why is that important? Oh...you'll find out soon.

Rest of the night was just vegetating, drinking some beer, and planning the next day. Zoo time, bitches! Oh yeah, we also watched The 40 Year Old Virgin, which Jess had never seen. AHHH KELLY CLARKSON! I love that movie. Juhl, you know how I know you're gay? Cuz you like Coldplay. YES!

Wake up. Zoo time. Go to the lobby, and ask them to call us a cab. There's a van shuttle out front, he says he's a cab, and he'll take us to the zoo. Umm...okay. 16 bucks for 3 miles? Seems a bit pricey, but whatever. Get to the zoo, Jess goes to pay by credit card for us (I had to get cash inside, since there were no ATMS outside), and the guy tells Jess they have some special for Canadians on that day...it saved us like 10 bucks. I love San Diego!

Apparently, we picked a really hot day to go to the zoo. Even with the sunscreen we bought...I got pretty burned. On one arm, for some reason. And my face looked like my Cards jersey.

We walked around till we were exhausted (yes, I lasted further than 20 feet inside the gate, jackals), and Jess took some awesome pictures. The meerkats were the best. If you dunno what that is, google it. Anyways, there were a bunch of em just chillin, till a park employee came by, said hi to them, and jingled her keys. They ALL came running over to her. It was soo cool. Jess got some sweet pics of them. I want to buy like 20, and let them live in the yard. Yeah.

Anyways, once exhaustion set in, we took the bus that travels around the park (part of the Canadian special!) and relaxed. The chick driving and commentating cracked a good joke:

"These cats over here are very friendly when they're young, but once they get older, they're like engineers...they're just not very social."

Jess didn't find that very amusing.

Near the end, we drove by an area with some birds...the lady asked if we knew the significance of this particular bird...the jabiru stork.

Well duh. "THEY BRING BABIES," I said out loud.

Drumroll. No laughter. Even Jess just groaned. Fuck you, that was funny!

After the zoo, we took a cab back to the hotel. 16 dollars, 20 cents. Wow, Habib in the van shuttle WAS pretty accurate. Back to the mall...more fish tacos for Jess. Don't worry, I'm gettin to it.

While I'm drinking a few beers and watching TV, Jess is playing on the net. He gets up, without saying anything, and goes to the bathroom. Unfortunately, I didn't have the sound on the TV very high, and I had the bed closest to the can. What I heard next can't really be described well...the closest I can come is saying it sounded like a water balloon hitting a wall. Ewwww. And Jess yelling DAMN! sure didn't help.

An hour later, KABOOM, he's back. 2 hours after that, and so on. It was...well, gross. Why am I telling you about this? Cuz dammit, Jess will hate it!


Next day rolls around. Jess was gonna go to SeaWorld. There was no way in hell I was gonna pay 51 bucks to see a whale. I can look in the fucking mirror, and that's free. Eventually, he agreed that it was not worth nearly that much, and we decided to check out some more of SD. After Jess laid waste to the bathroom.

First stop was Old Town. Walked through it...mildly entertaining. Stopped for a beer and some food. Nuthin much to say bout this. Next, we decided to go to Coronado. It's an island, just across from downtown. It's also the location of a huge navy base. The ferry ride over there was really cool...passed by an aircraft carrier, which is now open for tours. Got onto the island...and had no idea what to do. The base was on the other side of the island, and we had no idea how to get there. So what do we do?

Go to Taco Bell. Where Jess laid waste to the bathroom.

After sitting around in another restaurant for a bit, not knowing what to do...we took the ferry back. Woo. Luckily for us, the ferry had to take a detour, and stop at...the navy base! Sweet! So we got to see a few cool ships and stuff.

Back on the other side, we went for a walk into the Gaslamp quarter, and stopped at a Wendys. Where Jess laid waste to the bathroom.

I knew this area of SD pretty well, since I've stayed down there a couple times. So we walked around some more, then eventually headed back to the hotel.

We didn't wanna go back to the mall for food again, cuz Jess was worried he'd get Hep C or something. Jess looked on the net for other suitable places...and found a Hooters. Sweet! We walk over to the Hooters...and there's no Hooters. I guess it closed. Dammit. So we ended up at the Valley's Death Diner or something, where a little mexican lady with no Hooters served us. Good food...but the eye candy left a lil to be desired.

I got more beer, Jess got imodium. Back at the hotel, I drank beer, Jess popped imodium. I finished beer....Jess laid waste to the bathroom.

Jess would like me to point out that he's not the slayer of toilets I make him out to be....he's a washroom connoisseur.

Sleepy time was early, cuz we had to be up at 5AM to catch our flights to Sacramento.

Thoughts on Tijuana...*shivers*. Thoughts on SD...I still love it. The people are nice, transit is good, beautiful city, the weather is cooperative...and it killed Jess. I love it.

Notice how we didn't go to ONE bar in SD? I know....what a travesty! I did manage to drink at least 30 miller lites though, so I didn't feel left out or anything.

Once again, bitch, if I missed anything, let me know.

Trip, part 2...the rest of mexico

I'd like to start off with a small rebuttal of a comment on the first blog:

Jamie: Jess had no choice on the dancing thing....much like the last time I actually saw him dance, in Edinburgh. He was dragged out there by the superhuman strength of a 136 year old woman. It wasn't his fault. And she didn't actually get her hands into his pockets...it was merely an attempt. Yes, Jess shoulda probably grabbed her arms, flipped her over, and made her tap out to the crossface chickenwing...but he's nicer than me, I guess.

EDIT - I just re-read Jamie's comment, after a few more beers, and I can't stop laughing. Bitch, you really DO get molested by weird people whenever we travel, and you really DO dance with even weirder people. I always think strange shit happens to me....but seriously, you end up dealing with the REALLY fucked up stuff. Man hooker in Ibiza? Check. Obsessive fat girl in Edinburgh? Check. 136 year old in Cabo? Check!

Anyways, part 2!

I left off last time after the hamburgers, at 5:30AM or so. After that epic 56 hours of being awake, bitch woke me up bout 11:15AM or so, and informed me that I had invaded the minibar before I passed out the night before. I took 2 beers out, opened one, took one sip, and passed the fuck out. At 6.50 a beer, this wasn't so brilliant. He managed to replace the unopened one, luckily. What did I do with the opened one?

I fucking drank it when I got up, that's what I did.

Jess was hungover to start with....watching me guzzle a warm, flat beer 5 minutes after waking up didn't help his tummy much. Bitch please....man up! We're in fucking mexico!

We check out....and go to the store to buy beer, of course. Well, I did...I think baby boy bought a gatorade or something. We sat in the vicinity of the beach, and tried to decide to go to La Paz as planned, or stay another day in Cabo. This was cinqo de mayo, after all. After a couple wobbly pops, the decision was made to stay in Cabo. We couldn't afford the pricey resort though. My guidebook described a cheaper alternative downtown, which we had actually found the night before. Sounded like a plan. We took a cab from a resort to...real mexico?

Lobby was nice enough...had a pool, a bar, etc. The room? Wow. No TV...not ONE electrical outlet...foams on top of baseboards...it did have AC, but it was so loud we had to yell at each other from 3 feet away. Oh yeah, free range animals across the street. Welcome to eden.

Jess might have been boasting about his insured laptop and camera in the resort (and, as Jamie pointed out in her comment, the camera was never actually insured!), but he was pretty worried bout leaving his stuff behind in this halfway house...er, hotel. He took them to the front desk, to put in the safe....yeah, no. The safe was the size of a rubiks cube. So he took a chance, and hid them under the foam bed, or something.

Immediately, I hit up the hotel bar (# 5), while Jess hid his shit. I arrived at 1:54PM....2 for 1 happy hour started at 2PM. I couldn't even last the 6 minutes without a beer. I think I need help. Luckily the bartender ladies, Bella (she wasn't), and Veronica (of all fucking names)...well, they hooked me up with the 2 for 1 shit at 1:54. These chicks ruled. Worked out to dollar pacificos. Jess followed soon, and had 2 margaritas for 3 bucks.

As you can guess...he was shitfaced by about 2:23.

We decided to go and check out downtown Cabo during the day. We were kinda hungry, so we went looking for somethin to eat. We found a bar (#6, the name escapes me)...this place had 4 tacos and a beer for 7 bucks, which seemed like a good deal. I get my 4 tacos, Jess gets something similar. These tacos just come with the tortilla and chicken...there's a bar with all the fixins you load up at. I follow Jess up there. I'm new to this taco bar concept, so I ask Jess what the first item was...he says salsa. Don't look like salsa to me, but he's the expert, not me. I load up 2 of the tacos with this fancy "salsa". Grab a couple other things, and go sit down.

Jess, sitting across from me, asks "Did you put that on all your stuff?"

I reply "Nope, just these 2, why?"

"No reason".

I bite in...and he actually managed to keep a straight face, till I said "HOT SAUCE!" Then he started laughing.

For those of you that know me, ketchup is spicy to me...I cannot handle anything remotely spicy. This shit was mexican habanero manatee killing hot sauce. I dunno where the manatee thing came from, don't ask.

Anyways, my eyes immediately started to water, shit came outta my nose, and I was speechless. Now bitch is laughing at me, pretty hard. I just yelled the only thing in my mind at that point:

"I JUST SWALLOWED THE SUN!!"

And proceeded to shotgun my Dos Equis.

A few people laughed, I'm sure. I was in too much discomfort to care. That shit seriously took 2 years off my life. I somehow managed to eat all the tacos...my mouth was on fire for at least 3 hours. And this is why Jess and I are friends. If I had thought of something similar, I would have done the same damn thing to him. Dammit.

Anyways, after that, we continued to explore. Marina was cool, some crazy boats...walked through a mall, laughed at liquor store prices...then decided to head back to the hotel.

Take a guess who thought he knew where he was going.

15 minutes later, we're in the fucking hood. No gringos for miles. Taco stands even mexicans wouldn't eat at. Even the chihuahuas were homeless up in here.

*Insert Jess pointing at me and yelling "STUPID!"*

We turned around after 12 or so blocks and retraced our steps, without running into anything too scary. Back to the hotel, chilled for a bit, then went looking for a bar to watch the De La Hoya/Mayweather fight. The internet bar was fully reserved, so we ended up at the Giggling Marlin (bar # 7). It ended up pretty packed for the fight, but it was pretty lame. You could hang your friend upside down from a rope, and make them do a shot while people took pics. Woo. They did the chicken dance with volunteers. Woo. I think I would have had more fun at church with Oklahoma's Finest. We ditched that place, but it was so late, there wasn't really anywhere else we could get into. We even attempted Cabo Wabo, but it was super packed. Hey, I just wanted to see if church lady and the metamucil queen would show up, okay? So...at 11:30PM, on cinqo de mayo...we went back to the hotel and passed out. Aren't we the cool kids.

Should we have gone to La Paz instead? We got that answer the next day.

Wake up, pack up, off to the bus station. For those of you that don't know, La Paz is about 2.5 hours north of Cabo, on the Gulf of Cortez. Anyways, bus station chicky don't speak english. I say La Paz, she said "Diez?" Now I know basic spanish, but I totally blew this one. I kept saying "Today" and she kept saying "Diez?". We went back and forth like a really shitty rap battle from 8 Mile. I eventually just said "Si", cuz, it sounded good. Managed to buy the ticket, no biggie. Bout 5 fuckin seconds after I get the ticket, I realize diez means TEN. She was just asking if we wanted the 10AM bus. I guess her pointing at the schedule on the wall might have been a clue. Go fatty. Jess just stood there the whole time, staring at her boobs. Maybe not, but typing that out made me laugh...so it stays.

Anyways, we're the only whiteys in the station. I'm at least 2 feet taller than everyone there. Everyone is also staring at us, which is...well, unpleasant. A bus shows up at 9:55AM that says "Mexicali". Based on my superior geography knowledge, I know Mexicali is north of La Paz...this means this bus must go through La Paz...so this must be our bus. I say to the driver "La Paz?" He says si, and ushers me on. Just as Jess gets on, another bus shows up...that says "La Paz" on the front.

Umm.

We've already had our ticket ripped...and the driver said SI!! to me when I said LA PAZ! Are we on the right fucking bus or not? Somehow I didn't think Hector, Angel, Jesus, or the rest of the motley crue (totally lame, but had to be done) on this here autobus are gonna give us any answers without a translator. Plus, all these people are talking to each other like they're at a family reunion...very odd.

We agree to stay on this bus, for some reason. Magically, after 2.5 hours of cactuses, dust, and...well, more cactuses and dust...we end up in La Paz. And, to my gleeful surprise, we are dropped off at the beachfront bus station, which saved us a long cabride. I woke Jess up (as soon as a vehicle starts to move, bitch passes the fuck out), and we walk out of the station, into...

Paradise.

This place is fucking COOL. The bay is shaped roughly like a semicircle, with a palm tree-lined boardwalk from one end to the other (called the malecon). I'm guessin it's about 5km long, but I could be completely off. Beaches. Sand. Palapas. Marina to the left. A pretty big stage set up to the right. We'd discover the stages significance later.

We walk 3 blocks to the hotel we thought would be cool...first restaurant we see? An applebees. Yeah, we were a lil weirded out too. What the fuck is an applebees doing in the Baja? Anyways, we carried on to the hotel....pretty pricey...so we choose an alternative up the hill from said applebees. Like 37 bucks...no TV, but outlets! AC that doesn't drown out a locomotive! A block to the beach!

"Up the hill" was very odd though. There was no sidewalk, just stairs...but they were all uneven. 3 up, 1 down...flat ground, then a stair that was 3 times as high on the left than the right....then 2 steps down, 7 huge ones up, then a driveway, and 2 more down....it was very odd.

Anyways, we got settled, and went exploring. Okay, I lie...we went to the applebees. Jess ate, I drank...story of our trip. Jess tried to take pics of a homeless furry chihuahua, but he was too quick.

After that, we explored...walked all up and down. Found out that there was a 4 day "founding of the city" celebration on that long weekend. Basically, a huge street festival. The biggest day was....cinqo de mayo, of course. The night BEFORE. Dammit, we shoulda come up here! Oh well, apparently there was still stuff goin on later that day (a sunday), so we were hyped. We walked forever along the malecon, watching people set up for the night. The whole area is beyond nice. It's everything that a resort city should be...without all of the resort headaches.

Anyways, after stopping for a drink at a bar in a courtyard area (bar # 8), we decided to just grab some booze and go chill in the hotel for a bit. Go to store, buy beer...5.70 for a 6 pack...and a 3.60 deposit. 60 cents a bottle! And you only get half back when you return them! That shit's crazy.

A few drinks later, we go exploring again. Somehow, it was hotter at 4PM than it was at 1PM. It was CRAZY hot. Jess wanted to find a liquor store to buy a fancy bottle of tequila, so we went exploring off the malecon, up into town. First thing I found? A Scotiabank! There was one in Cabo too! Fucking right, saved me from gettin raped by service fees! Anyways, we never found a liquor store...we found some cantinas (mexican men-only bars where gringos are reportedly less than welcome)...we declined to enter. We found supermarkets, and restaurants, and street vendors, and lotsa other interesting stuff. It's a really cool city.

After all that excitement, we returned to the malecon, and the same courtyard bar as before. I get a beer, Jess orders a margarita. I get a beer, Jess gets...2 margaritas. There's no 2 for 1 on the sign...so this confuses us. I ask for the same thing....Jess receives 2 more...I get nothing. Not even a beer. Dammit. Anyways, they had many internet terminals. We each used the net for an hour or so, and I managed to get another beer. So...4 margaritas, 2 beers, 2 hours of the internet? I think it was 9 bucks. I LOVE THIS PLACE! Oh yeah...Jess is now shitfaced.

After a return to the hotel to chill till sundown (and finish our beer), we go check out the festival. Kickass dollar hot dogs, vendors everywhere, tonsa street performers, and people all over the place. It was crazy. Eventually some mexican band climbed up on the huge stage we came across earlier in the day....there were easily 4000-5000 people standing around watching, singing, and dancing. We decided to chill at a sidewalk bar close to the stage, and some clubs (# 9)....a bucket of beers (6 pacificos) was 10 bucks, I think. Jess was pretty drunk, and I wasn't far behind....so after admiring the women of La Paz, we stumbled back to the hotel. No wait, I insisted we stop for more booze.

Same store, no beer though. For some drunken reason, I bought a 3/4 liter bottle of Boones, a wine cooler thinger, and Jess bought some frilly wine cooler thing too (which I ended up drinking anyways, cuz he passed out like a lil girl). That came up to 4 bucks, or somethin. I drunkenly attempted to watch V for Vendetta on Jess's laptop...and passed out right near the end. Dammit.

Woke up, surprisingly not hungover....cab to airport....and onto a land called Tijuana.

Trip! Well, pre-trip/Cabo. I write a lot.

I've been home for over a week now, so I think it's about time I wrote a blog or 3 about my Mexico/Cali trip with Jess. I'm not drunk, so it might not be that witty...but I have 3 beers and this vodka/energy drink thinger to help me along, so we'll see where we end up.

It all started a few months ago, when Jess told me he had a work conference to go to in Long Beach. It was about batteries. Yes I know, he's a nerd. Anyways, he had the week off before the conference, and suggested a trip in that general area. I agreed, of course, since I'm a travel addict, and beer is cheap in these parts of the world. We decided upon Cabo San Lucas and La Paz, in Mexico...and San Diego and Sacramento in California. Tickets were bought, hotels were booked, authorities were alerted, and we were on our way.

Our initial flight was outta Bellingham...at 5:45AM. I know, who came up with that brilliant idea? Me, unfortunately. Jeff and Melissa were nice enough to put us up for a night in Birch Bay, and Naomi was nice enough to drive us to the airport in the morning on her way to work.

I should point out that, after a strange night of drinking the night/day before, I arrived at Jeff's awake for 19 hours already. At that point.

Anyways, as soon as we got to Birch Bay, Jeff had to take his daughter Olivia to T-ball in Lynden. We tagged along. As soon we got to the field, with people all around, I dropped the obligatory "Jess, doesn't your parole state you're not allowed within 100 yards of parks with children in them?" YES! And we were off and running.

The rest of the night involved jack in the box, Olivia deciding I was a jungle gym, and me staying up all night due to energy drinks. 4AM rolls around, and we're ready to go to the airport. Tim has been up for 30 hours at this point.

I had the usual interesting convo with Naomi on the way to the airport. I told her beforehand Jess was big, hairy, and tattooed. When she found out he was "little, pudgy, and tattooed (my words, not hers), she almost seemed disappointed. Almost. And she told me she really really loves Canada, and everything about it? Right Naomi?

Anyways, we arrive at the smallest airport in the free world, check in, and go to our gate, after getting the full treatment from security..."randomly", of course. There were only 2 f'n gates. Hard to get lost. There's one plane on the tarmac...and it has a flat tire. Oh joy. So we line up, back out at the checkin counter, to find out if we're gonna make our connection in Seattle or not. Jess just kept pointing at me and saying "STUPID!", since, as we've already covered, the Bellingham thing was my idea. Everyone in line found this funny. Dammit. We come up with about 40 different scenarios that would be cool with us, if we missed our flight and ended up with a flight credit. Vegas? Check. South America? Check. Shanghai? Fuck, Jess had a free apartment there. Hey, leave us alone, it wasn't even 6AM yet.

So, after 80 minutes in line, we are told there is a 7:35 flight we're on. After getting "randomly" molested by security again, we get on the Pinto of planes...aka Worst. Plane. Ever. (copyright, Tucker Max, 2005). I was surprised I wasn't sitting next to chickens. Not a big fan of turboprops, thanks.

Get to Seattle, have an hour and a half or so to kill. Can you say bar? Ironically, bar # 1 on this trip was bar # 21 on my last trip...in other words, the final bar on my last trip. The Alaskan bar, in SeaTac airport. After 1 drink, Jess was shitfaced...commenting on every person that walks by, talking about molesting chihuahuas in mexico, that sorta thing.

Time awake - 35 hours.

Easy flight to cabo. I bought 'I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell', by the one and only Tucker Max, which made me laugh so hard I almost snorted orange juice out my nose. We arrive, find our arranged ride, and enter....what I thought was the wrong fucking part of mexico. Dirt roads? Shacks? Chickens? MEXICANS? I thought this was a resort town! Did we just land in Guadalajara or Bolivia or some shit?

After 30 minutes of driving (where Jess pointed out the dentist, cuz he speaks spanish....you know what dentist is in espanol? DENTISTA. Good work, dipshit), we cross over into resort central. The soccer fields are still dirt, but the hotels are lined with gold, bitches! Okay, maybe not, but it was better than stick huts and free range animals. And there was a Costco, Home Depot, and Saab/Hummer dealership. Go figure. Get to the resort, for our whole 1 night. Check in.

Time awake - 42 hours.

The beach is nice. Joyous. It's hot. Hit up bar # 2 (hotel bar)....5 dollar beers, and 11 dollar margaritas. One of each, and I'm poor. Off to the market in the resort, where beers are 1.70 a piece. Buy, consume, blah blah. Jess finds a beer that has tequila in it...this leads to hilarity. 11% alky content beers. Jess buys 2. We go back to the hotel room for a bit, and chill on the patio (which is directly above the entrance to the hotel). After one of these tequila beer thingers (and the 2 margaritas he had at the hotel bar), he is...well, drunk. He starts telling the world how he has a laptop worth 3 grand and a camera worth 1500 in our room, and he doesn't care if anyone steals it, cuz it's INSURED, BITCHES! And we plan a trip to Iceland, and the moon! Shut up, it was funny at the time.

Total time awake - 46 hours. Don't ask me how, I don't know.

We decide to go downtown and hit up some bars. Shawn told me that it's about a 20 minute walk, so we attempt this. After a few stray cats scared the shit outta Jess (don't lie bitch, you didn't see the other 2), and 20 minutes of walking...we're lost. I might be brilliant, but my sense of direction blows. Jess starts yelling "STUPID!" and pointing at me....again. But...one 6 dollar cabride later, and we're in party central. We end up in a bar (# 3) with internet terminals, and decide to have a beer and play on the net a bit. Shut it, we're both nerds, okay? The bar walls were littered with pics of the owner and various UFC fighters, and even him with Dana White. Very cool. After that, we end up at Cabo Wabo (bar # 4). The "world famous" Cabo Wabo, apparently.

For those who don't know (and I didn't), it's owned by Sammy Hagar, of Van Halen fame. It's really nice, huge, and plays rock music. We were there fairly early, so we got a pretty good table (this comes into play later) and got some beers. 4 bucks US, not so bad. After a few of these, and more tequila for Jess, we're both fairly liquored. Van Halen every 3rd song got a little trying, but oh well.

Then the fun started.

A woman at the next table starts talking to us...I'm not even sure about what. Somehow, the subject switched to religion quickly, and she was verrry Christian. Nuthin wrong with that...but she found it utterly unbelievable that Jess and I weren't. I cannot understate how shocked this woman was that we didn't believe what she believed. Once I told her what I did for a living (ya know, when I had a job), she was speechless. These people didn't exist where she was from.

Namely, Oklahoma.

After a couple more drinks, her OLD friend joined us at the table. Like Estelle Getty old. Google it, you'll get it. In the middle of all this intelligent convo, the waiter dude said someone wanted our table. That's nice. So what? Then he offered us 2 free beers for it. Well well well...Jess was in the can, and came back in the middle of this bargaining session. He yelled "3 BEERS!" at the waiter....and we got 3 beers for our table. And moved....to the next table, where these women were sitting.

Things went right downhill from there. We kept trying to come up with stuff that might offend this woman, and she became so offended, I think she started enjoying it in some fucked up way. Then old timer dragged Jess to the dance floor somehow, after telling him 56 times that "AC/DC IS ON!", and managing not to spit out her teeth. Then randomly, Gods child started making out with me, for some reason. Hey, I was drunk, she wasn't horrible looking, leave me alone. This carried on for...God only knows how long (GET IT!), and Jess came back to save me. Then I was stupid and started TALKING to her again. Oh so retarded.

How old was she? 40. Strike 1. Did she have kids? Yup, two. Strike 2. How old was she again? Still 40. Strike fucking 3!

While I'm asking all this, she's still trying to kiss me....I'm gettin more and more sober by the fucking question. So I did what any man would do in that situation.

Nope, I didn't take her back to her hotel. Nope, she didn't come back to mine. What did I do, you ask? I faked being sick, promised her I'd meet her there again the next day, and ran outta there like a little girl.

Hey, fuck you, she was a 40 year old mother of 2 from Oklahoma who wanted me to go to church with her! I'm not Shawn or Len! Cut me some slack here! It wouldn't be one of MY stories if I actually got laid, right? Plus...I had to save Jess from the senior citizen who forcibly tried to put her hands in his pockets (which he promptly removed Jamie! I swear!)

Total time awake - 51 hours.

And you think we're done, don't you? Come on now. Show some respect.

Back at the hotel, we decide to take our remaining beers to the beach and chill. No one else is there, so it's relaxing. Eventually, some dude from Cali comes down and sits down next to us. We give him a beer, chill, and talk about lotsa different shit. He wants to return our generous beer offer, so he runs back to his room and grabs a case of Tecate. That's shitty mexican beer, by the way. He comes back, and I open the only 2 bottles we have left...a pacifico...and tequila beer # 2 for Jess. Wow, he had started to sober up around then....and tequila beer # 2 plunged him right back into the drunken abyss. Between his tequila beer and the 6 tecates I practically shotgunned (ya know, since they were free n all)...yeah, we got fuuuuuucked up. And anyone who knows me and Jess knows what happens when we get really drunk...

We argue! About realllly intelligent issues! And totally butcher them!

Argument one was about global warming....he won, quite easily. Argument 2 was about ethical economics (or the lack thereof)...I sooo won that. We didn't have an argument 3...cuz those two took close to an hour and a half. EACH. The Cali dude had a fair amount to contribute, but he basically just laughed at us a lot. 5AM rolls around....we say our goodbyes (after I smuggled another Tecate out of his case while he wasn't looking), and went back to the room.

Yup...I went from making out with a cowgirl to arguing with a homo, in the course of an hour or so. Welcome to Mexico.

Time awake - 56 hours.

Hunger has set in...so we decide room service burgers are the most brilliant idea in the world right about then. They're 19 bucks each? SOOO WHAT. Before they come...Timmy falls asleep. And Jess takes a picture of Timmy,...sucking his thumb. Beautiful. Just fucking beautiful. Timmy wakes up, eats burger, and passes out again.

EDIT - Bitch, if I missed anything, mention it in a comment. And don't try to defend your nerdiness/drunkenness/fear of stray cats. We all know it's true.

That's the end of round 1. Don't worry, you'll get the rest soon. It will involve: prison cells doubling as hotel rooms, hot sauce antics, south central Cabo, autobus de wetback, applebees, the joys of Tijuana cabs, Jess destroying various fast food places, meerkats, and a whooole lot more. Stay tuned.

City Stories

My last blog said I had a great entry for you. Well, I lied. It seemed good at the time...but it's actually kinda lame. It was just a typical night of drinking (that Len paid for), except it ended with me walking a loooong ways home cuz I had no money and cuz my friends ditched me a broad's house. And not being able to get in my house cuz my dad locked the wrong lock. Eventually he woke me up and let me in...but it was a loooong wait. And I left my hat there. Dammit.

Anyways, I've been sitting here tonight thinking about our best drunken retarded moments. Mine, and my friends. I thought I'd share a few of them with you. Some of you will already know some of these stories...for those that don't, enjoy.

EDIT - All of these are 100% true, and I have ample witnesses that can testify to this.

1. This one's not a real drunken retard story, people just still talk about it:

I owned a 98 degrees CD. Yes, not my finest moment, I know. Anyways, I had a bunch of people over one day in the winter, so we had a fire going. Danny threw that CD into the fireplace and said "Now it's 1500 degrees". Funny guy.



2. My friends (Jay, Lisa, Mikey, Sara, Ottawa Mike I think, others?) and I rented a condo in Whistler for the weekend. I lost the coinflip for beds, so I ended up with the pull out couch. I had already consumed a few beers, but I didn't think pulling a bed out of a couch would be rocket surgery. Turns out I was wrong.

I pulled, and pulled...nothing. I kicked, I dropped an elbow. Nothing. After 10 minutes, I figure out there's a lever on the side. Okay, cool. I flip the lever, pull with all my might, and it finally springs free....and I fly across the room, underneath the dining room table.


I decide that a beer will make me feel better about this. This f'n bed is blocking my way to the kitchen now though, so I get up, step onto the bed, and...the ceiling fan (set on helicopter, of course) just destroys me. Clocks me right in the forehead. I fall back, and end up right back under the dining room table. But now I'm bleeding and defeated.

I decide to wrap a towel around my head, turban style (don't ask me why), to stop the bleeding. Right after I do this...everyone comes home...and I have to explain what just happened.

This trip actually has about 10 different stories. The famous "I'm Mike, from Brazil" story I told at Mikey n Shannon's wedding, the hole in the wall, riding baggage carts in the hallways (causing much damage), throwing broken plastic chairs off the 3rd story patio onto the walkway below, Jay bagging me so bad I cried in the middle of the village, etc. I should actually just write the whole story of this weekend one day. Ask for it if you want it.



3. I was at the OT with Len one night, and some "festively plump" lady tried to chat him up. After 2 minutes or so of her talking, and him not saying anything, he responds with this gem:

"Do I look like I want to fuck the hamburglar? Go away!"

She was obviously offended, and threw her drink at him...and he tried to catch it in his mouth! I tried not to laugh, cuz it was pretty mean...but I couldn't. I laughed so hard I think I farted. I'm smooth like that.



4. Mikey and I borrowed my dad's car to go to the beer store, right after dad got his veterans plates. I showed them to Mikey, and he said "THAT'S what those are? I just thought there were a shitload of people from Vermont up here lately".



5. Len, Lisa and I were drinking here. Lisa put a case of beer into the fridge, and Len went in to grab one not long after. We could hear him fumbling around with the fridge for a bit. I asked him what the fuck he was doing, and he said :

"Don't put the beer so close to the fridge light. It won't stay cold". Yeah...okay.



6. Mikey n Shannon came out last wednesday, and met us at brooklyns. Shannon couldn't bring the kiddo inside (since it's a bar), so I went outside to meet them. They were parked across the street. In the middle of the street is a little barrier thing, no more than 6 inches in height. As I was jogging (yes, I can jog, assholes), I just BAILED in the middle of the road over this stupid thing. Shannon saw the whooole thing, as did the car that had stopped for me. As did half of fucking New West. At that point, I had consumed exactly 1 beer. Dammit.

These are "city stories". I'll save "camping stories" for next time.

Go booze!

Let's cover the last 3 minutes of my life.

Minute 1 - I'm sitting down, minding my business, watching music videos. Doing math in my head, to prove how smart I am. Since I don't have an audience, this is completely fucking pointless. I'm weird, fuck off. So I get a pretty hard question right (36*22, if you care) right in less than 2 seconds. I'm impressed with myself, so I flip what I've got in my hand up in the air, and catch it.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the remote in my hand. It was my fucking drink. I sit there for the next 40 or so seconds, and take all of this in. Yeah, I'm a little wet.

Minute 2 - I'm obviously disgusted with myself, since my lap is now covered in a Rev. Yes, I'm drinking a Rev. We changed up our "after the bar" drinks. By the way, Damian is passed out, so all the "after the bar" drinks are mine. And one is on my lap. Dammit. So, obviously, I go to get changed. I go in my room to change, and go to sit on the end of my bed. Unfortunately. I miss. I proceed to fall flat on my back, on the floor, in front of my bed. So now, I'm wet, I'm hurting, and I'm fully fucking defeated.

Minute 3 - I write this. Congrats. Now you officially know I'm a drunken fucking loser. Ladies...I'm single!

Telus almost killed the original copy of this blog

This fucking blog needed a title, and I couldn't enter one...cuz the stupid fucking Telus advertisement was covering the "subject" area. Took me 10 minutes to ditch the lil bastard. Stupid fucking ads.

Anyways. Yo yo. It's been a while. I'm sure you're wondering what's going on in my uber-exciting life. Well, your salvation is here. I think I used the word "salvation" like 40 blogs ago, back on livejournal....but recycling is cool, dammit.

My life has actually been mildly entertaining lately. Well, entertaining to me.

Let's see. Apparently, I'm Lisa's "girlfriend" now. She broke up with her long term boyfriend, and since we've been friends since we were 8 or so...I got to hear all bout it. That's not a bad thing though....she's a good girl, and a quality fuckin drinker. She's my bestest "friend that's a girl"...so it works out okay. There's about 5000 things I could include about her life that would probably increase my readership...but, sorry, I'm not that kinda friend.

That's soooo not true. If you want stories, I want fucking money. Believe me, it's worth it.

Anyways, other than that, let's see. Mikey n Shannon had a baby boy. Sang n Kul had a baby girl. Damian lives w/ me now. Kaila's in Edinburgh. I'm goin to Mexico/Cali next month, then HOPEFULLY working with Kam. Please, Mick, please. I'm listening to the same song over and over again. It's called Pearl, by Autoviolet. Go to their myspace and check it out. They're an indy band...my bud is the bass player.

It's close to 5AM, and I'm not tired. Dames picked me up at 10...few car drinks, then Scruffys for karaoke, which was a human zoo of entertainment...then Boone, then some nurses house...we got home 20 minutes ago. Between 4 OT's at the OT, a fully drunken Cambie night, and now the Boone/nurse combo...this has turned out well. Fully fucking well.

I think that's all I got for now. 2 Old Milwaukees to shotgun, and plenty of options to consider for game 2. I apologize for the cheeziness....but GO F'N CANUCKS GO. If you look back about 10 months, I wrote a blog about the Luongo trade. 15 more wins, and I'll repost it right before I head down to robson street. Ya heard?