...apparently, we'll be seeing a movie in an hour or so.

Cool.

Let's see...what the hell have I been doing with myself?


We drove all night Sunday to crash at the lovely home a frizzy-haired Boot Slut. Had fun chatter, sex, and a reasonable bit of sleep. Before that, on the route that takes you from the 5 to the 101, I found that Joe Frank was still being broadcast. I'd no idea. I'd forgotten all about the old bastard. The mountains kept me from listening to the last bits, though.

Monday was finding everything in SF; finding the job, finding Rowan's place, finding the hotel. Dinner plans, backtracking. All good stuff.

Tuesday was breakfast, then a nap, then driving (backtracking!) out to see Scotty, where a merry time was had by all. Goddamn, I love the beach. And microcasette recorders. ;)

Wednesday...more breakfast, but solo 'cause she sleeps like a fuckin' force of nature, I tell ya. Check-out. Wandering the streets. Books. Flavored olive oil. Chocolate. Leather. Free condoms. Boots. Then we broke out. Using the secret knowledge of the locals, we escaped the Bay only paying for gas and parking (and the boots). Drive-by photos were taken of the surrounding landscape. Drove for hours to reach Regina; decided to take her with us over nachos that have probably gone questionable by now. Slept.

Thursday, we hung out a bit, fucked, and I bought the wrong food for the dog. Broke out like mad in the early afternoon. Destroyed my car's engine several hours later, 150 miles south of the destination (where it remains still.) Called for a rescue and finally got it, before the cold war with the Denny's waitress got violent. Eventually, we got there, though, soaked by the rain and utterly frazzled. My lower back was killing me and the tow truck driver had separated my foolish ass from all my money. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep and it was someone else's turn to fuck.

On Friday, there was Kinkfest. But that's a whole other entry.