Filetes y "open bars"

I just talked to my Chilean host mom for 45 minutes in Spanish, and I don't even speak Spanish.

On and unrelated note, I recommend open bars at incredibly classy financial district clubs whenever possible.

What Have You Done So Far Today?

Current time: 7:32. The day started off mundanely enough. As usual, I awoke to the smooth stylings of San Francisco's own KFOG (home of World Class Rock, and by World Class Rock I really mean incredibly tight songs like "San Francisco Days" by San Francisco's own Chris Isaak, and pretty much anything by Joe Satriani). After much deliberation, I made an executive decision and got in the shower. At that point, I should have known I was in for a wild day. I generally make a point to not shower in the morning, but I guess I was feeling a little saucy or something. Luckily, that attitude changed about 15 minutes later when my bike got in a fight with a 2006 Chevy 1500 while I was riding it to the Cal Train station. True, my bike got pretty fucked up, and the back wheel has taken on many of the characteristics of, as Pam might say, "Ginny," or as Devin might say, "Beef Curtain," but you should see the truck. The ol' Veloz managed four (4) surface scratches on the front bumper of the metallic giant before getting pitched into the gutter. Bummer. The Chevy turned out to be a good sport, and offered my bike a ride home and I tagged along as well. I called my boss and let him know that I wouldn't be coming in today, I had to take care of my sick bike.

Weekend + 1. Go.

Heroes: The Final Episode of Season 1 +Wildwood

So I just watched the final episode of Heroes last night. It was about 2.5 months after it came out on that thing called the television, but events run slowly in terms of media on Canal Street (unless it is a pre-release movie, which appears on the street 24 hours before it comes in theaters). Well, let me tell you... it was everything I hoped for and more. I don't usually get excited about television (usually only about 3/5th's), but this had my knee bobbing and screaming whoahs like a thai hooker getting slapped with a live cuttlefish. Darren, you've missed
out on this, but I bet you can catch up on alluc.tv. All I'm gonna say is that Hiro looks like a badass.

This weekend is Wildwood. Here is a description from my friend Bert:

"Anyway... for those who don't know, Wildwood is a coastal city at the bottom of New Jersey... so you know it's trashy. The boardwalk is littered with jailbait, dollar pizza and more Italian-Americans than you can shake a cannoli at. But, in this case, I am referring to the largest beach Ultimate tournament in the country."

Let's just say I'm excited and will probably be talking about this for the next 3 months. You can read more up at that link about past shenangians, but this year holds a promise for me. The promise of life (barely-legal), liberty (escape from the boardwalk p0-p0), and the pursuit of happiness (deep-fried oreos).

t-minus: 21

...In the Gutter...

Like Joshter Monster, the word climax also caught my attention (I found it stimulating, if you will) triggering my desire to share a little anecdote. During my late night trip to 24 Hour Fitness, I heard the following on Love Line:
Dr. Drew: Even with lube, women can only go about 15-20 minutes before sex becomes somewhat painful or difficult

Guests & Stryker: *Discussions about the validity of porn and other questions about "Ginny"*

Dr. Drew: I'm telling you, on average, 15-20 minutes. Look, it's not galvanized steel.

....And there you have it, folks. For anyone who thought otherwise, it is NOT, in fact, galvanized steel.

A Magical Climax

Seven, maybe eight, years I have been waiting for this and it's finally here. last night C-dub and I made the trek down to Valencia and 20th to join in the festivities. Prior to arrival I assumed there would mostly be 8-12 year olds there with handful of adults interspersed. Boy was I wrong. Of just over a hundred people there may have been at most 3 persons under the age of 20. After a few free snacks and 10 minutes of waiting in line, 12:01 rolled around and I finally got to hold 759 pages of complete wizard pleasure in my hands. So don't bother trying to contact me today. I am booked solid.

Better than Christmas.

Rumble in the Corral.

Apparently, a 4.2 earthquake is strong enough to wake up Jessica and me.

http://earthquake.usgs.gov/eqcenter/recenteqsww/Quakes/nc40199209.php#details

Yeehaw.

My room (what else)

My room smells sooooo much like beer. My room smells more like beer than my shirt did on Friday night. That is saying a lot.

Tits.

There's a party in the Mission with our name on it...literally!

http://www.sfstation.com/magnificent-7-e76231


In other news...

So I'm in the middle of my morning ritual, furiously yet indiscriminately perusing the internet, when a small squib on The Onion about Sarasota, FL- which I more or less claim as my hometown- caught my attention:

SARASOTA, FL—Sheila Newborn was left completely bewildered when the two black people she knows and set up on a date did not hit it off.

Enough said...

I admit defeat

I realize that a large portion of this entire blog has been devoted to me, my crap room, my small bed, and my complete lack of poon. I have tried to stay my ground as long as possible on these matters, but reality hit me like a ton of....well, fuck metaphors, reality hit me like my sleeping ass rolling onto the floor last night.

I have woken up under many conditions before: headaches, nausea, spinning, random asian people's couches, but not since I was six years old have a I woken up in a desperate panic, clinging to my bed for dear life as though I was Sylvester Stallone in Cliffhanger. Although, thankfully, my struggle did not include an incorrigible John Lithgow with a laser-sight on forehead.

So to make a long story short (of course, at this point that is moot because you already read the long story, so adding the Cliff notes down here just makes it longer) my bed sucks, and not only is it too small for myself and a yet-to-be-determined chick, but it is too small for me. And I'm not very big.


Oh, and fucking sick wok! Way to go, somebody. Oh yeah, and "incorrigible" is a really hard word to spell.