So bizarre seeing the house I grew up in on google street view... Address is slightly incorrect, but pretty close. My bedroom was in the corner near the tree and driveway. There used to be a window box, which I often climbed out onto, in order to sneak out. Why? Because, I was a kid. That's why. The house has barely changed in over thirty years!
Roger: Stan, remember... the first rule of any wedding is the bride is always beautiful. The second rule you can read on my website. You have to be eighteen to logon. I have some sexy barnyard stuff on there that is NOT for everyone. I could get in a lot of trouble. If you do decide to check it out, you need to clear your history right away. You may need to uninstall your browser. I'm tellin' ya... scrub that thing clean. If you think you're being too cautious, you're not. They will take us both to jail!
Years ago, when I was in college, I remember waking up my roommate while I was reading Hunter S Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: : A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream. I was laughing so damn hard and I just couldn't stop.
I was re-watching the film with Johnny Depp and Benecio del Toro. They're both excellent. I'd forgotten that Terry Gilliam directed it. All I can say is... it figures. You can see it on hulu. It's fabulous!
How long can we maintain? I wondered. How long before one of us starts raving and jabbering at this boy? What will he think then?
This same lonely desert was the last known home of the Manson family. Will he make that grim connection when my attorney starts screaming about bats and huge manta rays coming down on the car?
If so -- well, we'll just have to cut his head off and bury him somewhere. Because it goes without saying that we can't turn him loose. He'll report us at once to some kind of outback Nazi law-enforcement agency, and they'll run us down like dogs.
Jesus! Did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me?
Maybe I'd better have a chat with this boy, I thought. Perhaps if I explain things, he'll rest easy. . .
Got a group together to attend Brain-Dead Alive, a play staged by the Primitive Screwheads. It was performed as a parody of a 40s radio play and it was really fun. They're a talented troupe, as well as funny and quite nice! As I stated in my invitation:
"... or maybe you feel the need to participate in a gruesome, messy zombie play, screaming like crazy, covered in a plastic tarp, with an extra set of clothes stashed under your seat in a ziploc? Yeah, those plastic baggies won't cut it. Trust me, you need a ziploc. One of those heavy duty ones. I've got some you can borrow."
So, that's a pretty accurate description. Can't recall how many gallons of blood and other bodily fluids were dumped/sprayed on us, but it was... a lot! My favorite was towards the end, when our valiant hero uses a heavy duty lawn mower to chop up the herd of zombies. As the narrator describes his gory progress, wave after wave of blood washes over us. It was great! Christine grabbed some "before and after" shots with her iphone:
Good times. Good times... Beforehand, we ate at Cafe Puccini. It was near the theater and had gotten great reviews on Yelp. And, yes, the food was really good! And the service was terrific. And did I mention we managed to park close to the theater for free? In San Francisco. Weird.
Library worker with 1.3 million unrelated interests.
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