Friday, July 21, 2006

Dang but it is hot.

On the drive home from work the bank by my house said it was 104 degrees out. I got home and drank some tequila, then moved on to vodka. I watered the garden, and sprayed myself a bunch. It felt so good! It felt so good, in fact, that I ordered Scott to put on "Feel So Good" by Chuck Mangione (yes, I own that record) and we rocked it while we played in the sprinkler. It feel so good!

The birthday party last week was hell of fun. yay, I'm 30! My girlhood dreams have come to fruition. Houxy made it up from LA, and the party was lively and such. The karaoke machine rental paid for itself, a $150 value! Not a whole lot of people sang, but the few karaoke whores I know (Patrick, Houx, Danno and myself) made it a worthwhile endeavor. Even painfully shy Joe sang a few! Yes, Joe, I'm talking about you on my blog! You are shy, yet you sang!

Scott gave me a sweet digicam for my brthday. Here is a pic of me at Germanytown (the Rheinlander) on my birthday proper:

Update 7/28/06: it took me over a week to figure out why I couldn't upload my pictures, and during said heatwave I literally couldn't stand being not-in-the-basement. Now it is lovely out, and I am back.

I bought some new CDs today: Muse - Black Holes and Revelations; Deltron - 3030; Girl Talk - Night Ripper; Blackalicious - Nia; and J. Zone - Experienced. The last one is some guy who mixes beats for some folks and has a thing, but he made a Hendrix tribute album that is decent. Muse is the new Thom Yorke-cum-Emerson, Lake and Palmer and is hell of good. Deltron is, of course, Del the Funky Homo Sapien all rapping about some sci-fi and such. The Blackalicious is old (2000), but shit, I'm driving to Medford tomorrow and need some tunes. Same goes for Girl Talk, which miraculously and seamlessly mixes Rush, James Taylor, Paula Abdul and 2 Live Crew (among myriad others) into their own flow. Good stuff.

Tonight I'm making rock fish fillets with pink prawns and mango-habanero salsa, grilled polenta and wilted spinach.

Some more pictures for posterity:

Me and Scott at Germanytown. East SIDE (Scott messed up but it's okay)!

Patrick is warming up the mic.

My dad bought a fucking Harley with the money he made from selling his house.

Greta is painfully shy, but is no match for the Houx. We tried varied mustards that night.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Adventures in Klamath Falls

OMG I had so much fun tonight. I ate at a sketchy Vietnamese place that was located on the highway, the only Vietnamese joint in town. They had like 175 kinds of beer proudly displayed in the fridge case immediately at the entrance, and you just grab one and they open it for you and put it on your tab. The decor was like bad Jamaican-tropical (think fake palm trees draped in plastic flowers) with Bruce Lee posters and these tapestries that could only be construed as Japanese Patrick Nagel - graphically hot chicks with neck-to-ass Yakuza tats all demurely looking over their shoulders and shit. Their menu was dauntingly large, so I just asked for the waitress to bring me whatever it is her favorite thing to eat. I ended up with a seafood combo that was pretty decent. Then I went and pranced around in front of Klamath Falls' web cam for fifteen minutes.

Later I went to the trucker bar Mollie's and instead of karaoke they had an okay blues band. Then all of a sudden the most awesome old timer came into the bar. He was 85 if he was a day. He was wearing the cowboy shirt with the embroidered flowers on the breast, huge-ass belt buckle, suspenders and a dark blue kerchief tied smartly at the neck, the greased-up pompadour and little black loafers with white socks (a fashion don't, but give the guy a fucking break. He's like 85!). Be still my beating heart!

As soon as he walked in and sidled up to the bar, I ran over and told the bartender that his drink was on me. (His beer is delivered in his own fucking personal stein that the bar keeps for him - this crusty old dude is hell of punk rock!) After receiving such information from the bartender, he looks around the place all confused. A burly dude to his right points me out, and Bob comes over and asks, "Do I know you?" I said, "No, but I thought you looked like a guy who should have a drink bought for him." He shrugs his shoulders and goes to his table where a woman probably in her 60s gives him a "you got some splainin' to do" look.

After awhile of wondering if I could ask to have my picture taken with this Johnny Cash's dad, Bob all of a sudden comes up and asks me to dance. Dude's still got it! How could I say no? So I go up and dance with him, gettin' a little freaky when his back is turned, and finally the song is over after what seems like a million years.

He then has the elephantine stones to ask me "Who're you here with?" I point to Greta and say "my coworker". He asks if there's a man, and I just thrust the bling in his face. "Oh, you're engaged." I gave him a hug, thanked him for the dance, and returned to my table.

Then he returns to the table after a few songs and asks Greta if she'd like to dance. She politely refuses, but he won't take no for an answer. She admits that she's not the dancing type and so he offers to teach her. This dude is so hardcore that he should be teaching classes on how to be a badass ladies' man.

And that was my awesomely fun night.