Well I'm done.

Just wrapped up my last story, on the Downing Street Memo. And no, I don't know why they wanted copy on a three-week-old story. But they did. So rock on.

Yesterday, it was a story on a new ocean bill and its chances. 'Even shot the shit with Jacques Cousteau's grandson for about 10 minutes. Nice guy. And no, I didn't ask him what he thought of Life Aquatic.


For anyone who might have been high every time they read my posts over the last three months, my assignment at the News-Press effing rocked. It made J-school. Hands-down. I loved what we did here, this spring.

I remember as a kid seeing this "Barbara Boxer" lady on the tube. Who knew some years later I'd be dropping my press handouts and embarrasingly spill them all at her feet while she tried to talk about how much John Bolton sucks.

That's right - I went out with a bang: I made an impression, goddammit.

Last quarter, I was stoked to leave Econ behind, this quarter...this quarter...

...wait, I think I have something in my throat. And, um, it's getting really dusty in here.

...

*SOB!*

But seriously, or not-very-seriously, what incredible people to work with this quarter - no bullshit. In honor, I'm scrapbooking photos from last night's general debauchery at Smashtar's place. ("Virtual" scrapbooking, cause we all know people who scrapbook are fucking weird, right?)

(...You mean you all scrapbook? Really? Just my luck.)


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Punk rock, bitches.




Hugh and Smash. Either the camera was out of focus, or we've got a serious case of beer goggles.




I picked this picture of Cocklana and Jonesey since Jonesey's head looks unnaturally dislocated from her head, like the Excorcist or something. So of course I had to do my best effed-up "Your mother sucks cock in hell!!" Excorcist impersonation...but of course no one got it and the room got all silent and uncomfortable with a tumbleweed blowing through. Oh well.

Cocklana made front page of The Hill on her third day of work there, ripping the lid off of Congress members accepting trips from Taiwanese foreign agents. Mad props.




Helena, who always decides to convert to Islam while intoxicated.




Matt, Jonesey and Helena...before her spiritual conversion. (Have you ever seen such a sassy Muslim?)




You'd think I was just a happy guy, but Smashtar's sister Babs is, um, let's just say "kicking" me and leave it at that.




Hugh mercilessly crushing Heather. We lost her on the way to the hospital.




Dickie, Labriel, Hugh and Heather. Dickie doing his best "Evil Monkey" impression from Family Guy.




Special Ed, dreaming of Orrin Hatch and apparently taking a dump on Lillis and Gizibel. Judging from her face, Giz is not very appreciative.




Dickie and Smash.



Labriel and Smash. Smash gets around.




Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mutt and Jeff. Photo taken to scale.




Take a bow. As our editor said today, "The best group we've had yet!" (Of course, she says that every quarter.) Except for that schmuck in blue, on the very left.

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And now, bring on the second cast of Real World: Washington, D.C.

Seattle Times, bitches. Get ready.