Day 4 - present:

I spent quite a while in Podunk, California. It's pretty close to Yosemite National Park where we saw some rocks and trees and shit. No Yogi Bear, so I was pretty pissed. Here's some fucking rocks there on the right, and some trees and shit.


And as a late edit, I lost the cable to transfer files from my camera to my computer, and the card reader-adapter is missing as well. Enjoy.

trees and some other shit

Day 3:

There's all kinds of history that abounds in regards to the redwood trees, like how they're big and reddish and people like them. They were ok, I wasn't nearly as impressed as I had hoped to be, though I guess they are the biggest trees I've seen that I can remember. This picture doesn't really showcase the size of the trees as well as a 'I'm standing right next to one' type of picture might, but I'll be damned if I don't think it looks pretty cool.

After the adventures in the woods, and having to endure the pain I picked up in my leg from walking around the other day in my broke ass boots, we traveled to a little valley called Sonoma where they love wine.

Here's a flower with some vineyards in the background. The fields of grapes look kind of nice, though the grapes themselves are all still green. The green on green on shit brown dirt isn't the best looking picture in the world, so I took a shot with this little flower, he's happy.

The winery we visited was pretty awesome, it was a 'community day' or some such bullshit and so they were giving away all kinds of free food and instead of just being able to taste the wines, you could drink as much as you wanted. I didn't go crazy with the wine drinking because real wine, from a bottle, not from the box, makes me sleepy.

I couldn't get too sleepy because we had tickets to the Giants game last night where good old Pirates alum, Barry Bonds, hit his 750th homerun. It's a pretty sweet stadium, reminiscent of PNC Park with the low, open outfield offering a view of the bay, while PNC Park gives a view of Pittsburgh.

There's a couple more pictures I want to share, but I don't have much to say about them.

The obligatory redwood growth that looks like a redwood nutsack... kind of like a pregnant tree, from what I gathered.


My eagle friend overlooking the grapes and the hills and what not.


This is just some tree, but it had a chair underneath it as if it were some old ass man's favorite spot to chill out, I sat in the chair and took this picture.

No sweet escape man today. Sorry.

Another fun day.

Day 2 (belatedly):

Some stuff happened yesterday and the main reason that I didn't post anything fun is that I had to take a jesus walk all around town.

Went to jail. Not the real jail, of course, but the old kind. The kind that has been converted to a national park, Alcatraz, seen to the right.

The jail island was a grand old time, though I was repeatedly warned to 'not mess with the birds' and in olden times, this would have obviously meant the 'jailbirds' but not on this fine day. The sea gulls, nature's hobos, had inhabited the island and are apparently not to be trifled with as there were multiple warnings that these fowl should be left to themselves.

In a word, I can sum up the Alcatraz experience: boring. It's a hike to the top of the hill and there's a bunch of busted up buildings and jail cells that you're not allowed to play in. Basically, a disappointment. Though it's nice to know firsthand that the place kind of sucked.

Lunch was on some pier and then we went to Ghirardelli's Square or whatever it's called, the chocolate place. I enjoyed this because I caught a sweet pic for my grandpa of this mermaid's titties. Glory be to the titties. Glory be.


Probably the highlight of my day came on our way back to the hotel. I guess it was an afternoon rush or something because there was an ass-load of people waiting for the cable car. Apparently whenever a group of people form in San Francisco for whatever reason, the homeless flock to the opportunity. We waited and waited in line for the cable cars to slowly load up the crowd, as someone who looked like Jerry Garcia sang songs and plucked his banjo for the masses. After a while a stranger came... Escape man. This will speak for itself.


And some video below:

Stuff I like

I had a short bit prepared to write here, but alas that masterpiece of internet literature is located in my car right now. It's a little cold outside and the ground is wet. My shoes are in the other room and I'm kind of tired. It can wait, I tell myself, until next time. In lieu of this prepared work of art, I've decided to compile a list of things that I like. Stuff that makes me happy. Of course an undertaking of this magnitude will fall far short of a complete list of everything I enjoy, I figure a glimpse into my likes will better prepare any reader for future encounters they may have with me. For instance, you can talk about something on this list to me or bring me presents as laid out in this list. Those are just a few ideas, feel free to think of your own way of bringing me happiness by utilizing this list. I'm making things easier for everyone, I think.

So it begins...

• Sunshine. Consequently everything that goes with sunshine. Examples include: warmth, vitamin D (maybe, I'm no scientist), light... mostly warmth.
• Pabst Blue Ribbon. I don't drink it to be trendy, I drink it because I'm so used to it that it has actually become my beer of choice for most occasions.
• Skechers Shoes. These plain looking kicks are some of the most comfortable shoes I've ever had. If you feel so inclined, I wear a 13 and prefer 'earthy' tones for my shoes, go ahead and buy me a pair.
• Whiskey and Ginger ale. My favorite is Jack Daniels, but beggars can't be choosers.
• My cell phone. It's one of those MP3/camera/video deals, basically it does everything you didn't realize you needed a cell phone to do, until you had one that does.
• Racist Jokes. Jokes in general are good, but my favorite joke happens when a person I would never dream of telling a racist joke to turns around and tells me one. Funny story about this is that there aren't many white jokes. Vanilla faces... pffft.
• SUMMER. Re-hashing the sunshine deal above, I love it when it's warm and the days are long.
• Driving my car.
• Listening to loud music while driving my car. Also listening to loud music while doing most anything else, I like loud things. Except for people, c'mon now, tone it down a bit.
• Arguments. They don't have to be hostile, but they keep you sharp. A sharp mind is good for everyone.
• People who call me out on my bullshit. This evening I was called a 'bullshit artist' and that's about right, but any bullshit artist wants someone to recognize their art and critique it. Earns the person big respect and many brownie points, because I'm a girl scout.
• Nintendo. It's fun no matter the system, from the NES and Gameboy to the Wii and DS, Nintendo has some fun shit. And the gamecube controller is a lot better for Tiger Woods than the PS2 controller.
• Laptop Computers. With the invention of TV shows on the internet, with no commercials, I don't even use my TV anymore.
• TV Shows on the Internet. Absolute best idea ever, way to go Internet!
• Digging Graves. Yeah, I went there. I work at a cemetery and I get to play with a backhoe on two occasions: when I dig a grave or when I load the dumptruck with dirt. Digging graves is more fun, and it's a perfectly fine past-time if you think of it not as a grave, but as a deep hole, in the middle of a cemetery. I could probably change this to 'playing in the backhoe'.
• Reading. I read all the time, rarely for class. For myself. Will I talk to my professors 10 years from now? No. Will I talk to myself? Undoubtedly.
• Tasteful Pornography. Most will shy away from this subject, but it's awesome. Un-bear-ably awesome. My screensaver is comprised of what would best be described as the "Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition" of porno. No nipples, no vagina. If my mom happens to flip open my computer and see this screensaver, she won't mind. She'll be reassured of her son's sexual preference and his lack of weird fetishes. Coincidentally, my mom has seen my screensaver before. It's classy porn, sprinkled with pictures of Knut, the adorable polar bear.
• Asking/Being Asked Questions. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but I'm allergic to the pesky little things anyways.
• Being politically inactive. I don't rock the vote.
• Wife Beaters. I wear one everyday. Sometimes during the summer, that's all I wear. No pants, even.
• Celebrity Gossip. Though lately I've been getting fed up with the focus on celebrities in rehab and celebrities that inadvertently show their vaginas. Let's try and keep it classy.
• Cargo pants and flip flops. Basically another summer staple. Back in the day, before I lost them, it was cargo pants and birkenstocks. If you feel so inclined, buy a new pair for me. I like the army pants and flip flops combo because of Mean Girls.
• Cranberry Juice. When I come downstairs for a drink in the middle of the night, plain old water just doesn't cut it anymore. I like to have a glass of cold cranberry juice. No reason, I just like it.
• Satellite Radio. Tons of channels and it's damn cheap.
• Cheap Drinks. When it's not free, it better be cheap. Charge a cover if you have to, just make me at least feel like I'm getting a deal.
• Free Mp3s. From wherever. Free is good.
• Challenges. I'm not often challenged for things, but individual challenges ignite my competitive side. Mental challenges (don't switch the 's' with a 'd' ... and uhh, add an 'ly') are good too, who doesn't enjoy a good conundrum now and again?
• Making my brother look bad. I enjoy one-upping my brother and do so at every opportunity. He's younger, this is what I'm supposed to do, but damn, I probably don't have to enjoy it as much as I do.
• Walking slow. Fast walkers always seem like they have too much going on, they have to get where they're going fast and do the damn thing. I like to take my time, walk slow homey.
• Afternoon naps. Best time to nap is during the lull in the day. It's not during the day-time activities and it doesn't cut into late night fun.
• Compliments. I can take a compliment with the best of them, thank you.
• Kool Cigarettes. They're smooth and minty.
• Road Trips/Long car rides. Bonding experiences and all that.
• "It's not gay ... " jokes. It's not gay if you do it once. It's not gay if you high five afterwards. It's not gay if you throw up afterwards (because you know it's sick) etc. My friend Joe likes to tell these jokes to his ... uhh, 'man-friends.' I'll actually try and compile a list of these in the future.
• Lists. They're easy to read and fairly easy to slap together.
• Hot Showers/Good water pressure. For some reason, I haven't been able to get either of these since freshman year while at Allegheny. So sad, so depressing.
• Showing favoritism. I've got favorite people and I show these people favoritism. I like doing it because it makes the people who I do not like stop and contemplate why I don't like them. At least in my head this happens.
• Sits. My friend Jordan and I might be the best 'sitters' anyone has ever seen. A 'sit' consists of sitting (or laying down or just 'being there') in the same spot for extended periods of time. It's because we're so reliable, we like to stay where people put us.

This list, as I said, is far from complete. It's not a list for me by any means. It's for whoever reads this, you pay attention to some of these things mentioned and we'll get along a little better. Next time I'll do my list of "no-no's" or 'shit you don't do around me or tell me about.' It'll be fun.

the usual suspects

The wind whipped at his jacket as he struggled with the zipper. Taking a few more steps, he began questioning this course of action. The cold wet snow slapping at his face over and over, he wished he could turn around, home was so close and his destination so far.

He trudged on. The ground seemed to hit harder on his soles with each step. This was a march for the ages, he would not be denied his goal. Adjusting his collar, he shivered away what cold he could and secured himself from further onslaught.

As his fingers froze his nerves steeled. More than just his pride was riding on this trek. His mission was simple yet impossibly important.

Squinting through the snow and rain he thought he caught a glimpse of something. It looked like a man hiding in the shadows, as he checked again though, the figure disappeared. He shrugged it off as a cold induced hallucination.

He rounded the corner where the ghostly figure had just been. Just to be sure, he took a longer look around before proceeding onward. As he paused, he was blindsided. Turning slowly as he fell he caught a glimpse of the demon tormenting his mission. The lights went out as his head slammed into the icy sidewalk.

Coming to, moments later, he found his pants were wet and his head felt like it was about to explode. Curling his fingers slowly into a fist he tried to stave off the pain creeping from his frozen appendages.

A hand reached down through the winter hell and he instinctively grabbed hold. Pulled to his feet, he found himself finally face to face with his shadowy foe.

"You fucking douche bag cock sucker!" he shouted, punching his assailant on the shoulder. Recognizing his enemy as one of his oldest friend, Bad Boy Bob, his anger melted away.

"Tony, dude, didn't mean to hit you that hard, my bad" slurred Bob in response. When he drank, Bob tended to run his words together and would occasionally click his teeth when he spoke.

"Come on, you just signed up for this mission" Tony replied. He would never puss out and admit that he might have just lost a few seconds of consciousness to the unforgiving concrete below.

Over the previous few hours everything had picked up a significant dusting of slushy snow. Tony reached into his pocket and dramatically pulled out his keys. With a pump of his fist and a click of the alarm button, his car alerted him to its exact position in the gloom.

Making a mad dash across the remaining dozen or so yards to the car, Tony reached the car a half step ahead of Bob. That half stepped proved crucial because he jumped in and slammed his finger down on the power lock, leaving Bob to freeze in the icy prison outside.

"That's for knocking me down, you piece of man-bait!" Tony triumphantly shouted while pressing his middle finger hard against the passenger window right in Bob's face.

Revving the engine, Tony hoped to heat the car faster as he cranked the heater to the 'cremate' setting. Finding a suitable song for the adventure, he finally unlocked the door. Bob had suffered enough ... for now.

"Listen up and listen well, my friend" Tony almost cooed as the heat started pumping faster. "This is the most important journey we could possibly hope to be on today, maybe even the most important journey of your life. Not mine, and you've been recruited because you're a dickhead. The objective closes its doors in less than ten minutes and they've proven time and again that we can't fuck around with these people" He sounded like a general leading his platoon instead of just his half drunk buddy from childhood.

Bob glanced quickly at the clock on the dashboard and a light seemed to cut through the cloudy haze in his head. He knew where they were going.

Racing down the icy streets, Tony's hands and feet moved almost independently along the wheel and pedals. He was possessed. He had a mission. He would not fail. They were going along and making good time, they were actually going to make it happen. He was happy that he was so comfortable making this trip as he had been drinking as well and the roads were not at their best.

Yanking on his emergency brake, he came to a dramatic stop as the car slid fantastically around on the unsalted and vacant parking lot ice. They came to a halt not so much in an actual parking spot, as a good place to get out and dash for the door.

The lights were still on, they were in business. They'd made it with maybe a minute left on that quickly ticking clock. Bob tripped as he stepped on to the curb and Tony kicked the door open, not even pausing for his fallen friend. Bob would make it, after all, he'd pulled himself out of tougher spots before.

"You know what we're here for, asshole!" Tony barked at the clerk. "Don't try and pull that 'we're closed' bullshit on me again."


Jogging to the back, Tony grabbed the usual suspects. Nikolai and Vladimir, who both hung out at the Banker's Club with Admiral Nelson. Yes, this would be a great night.

They'd done it. These two saviors of Saturday night. These knights of honor and justice. Tony were exalted and enshrined for the rest of the evening. They laid waste to their enemy with seconds to spare.

swept under the carpet of foggy college memories

I've heard tell of an amazing weekend in an otherwise shitty town called Meadville. Springfest has always been a time for freshman to meet new people they won't remember and for the seniors to have one last go at the underclassmen they've been eyeing for the past year or three. It's mostly a time for everyone to get their last parties in before the end of the year, only it's supported with a 'we'll mostly look the other way' kind of attitude by the school.

No killings or date rapes or too much underage drinking, and everything is all clear. Well all clear is no fun. A party that goes off without a hitch gets forgotten too easily. I remember the times I'd get in fights, I remember the times I'd get kicked out of the establishment supplying me my end of the week sustenance, I basically only remember the oddities. The perfect party gets filed under the heading of a 'decent weekend' and is swept under the carpet of foggy college memories. The nights I'd spend in relative comfort and distraction don't quite meet up with the time that I pissed my pants in front of a police officer. They don't even come close to assaulting the soccer team, either time. I won't remember the 'good' party that I didn't get kicked out of, but I will remember the time I was dragged out because I stole the jungle juice bucket and tried to bong it in the backyard.

Springfest provides the last opportunity to stretch my legs as a senior, my last 'fest' of any kind in Meadville ought to be an 'awesomefest.' I'm not that interested, to tell the truth. It's a switch, for me. The people this weekend ought to have their fun all year long without being constrained to merely a weekend of debauchery. It's a life they live, seeking fun and courting her. Springfest isn't for these people, it's for everyone else. The excuse to go out and let yourself spend a night or two having fun with few repercussions calls to the people who don't seek the thrills or date the danger.

These folks will go out and get too drunk for their own good and make their own memorable weekend because they 'don't normally do that sort of thing.' I wasn't allowed on campus for last year's Springfest and it turned out to be a pretty good weekend. I got drunk in the Sahside and fell down a couple times. Springfest in Meadville is amateur weekend. The people who don't normally drink decide to and hilarity does not tend to follow. Bad hookups and stupid decisions to profess their love to people does tend to follow, however.

They'll remember it only because it's so abnormal for them, for me, it's just another weekend. In fact, only a few weeks ago my housemates went out of town and I threw a party because they weren't around. The police showed up for a noise complaint, I built a beer pong table in my garage, lit a bunch of stuff on fire, broke a chair (which we subsequently also set ablaze) and fell asleep at 9pm. It was a damn fine re-enactment of Springfest, only without the school's consent. That's a hell of a Saturday, akin to the one where a townie pulled a shotgun on me for pissing on his house but didn't bat an eye over the 30 or so people partying in his backyard.

These people only go through the motions, they fake it for a day or two. They pretend to love what I hold dear and the hypocrisy is a smack in the face. I hold no grudge against anyone who takes the opportunity to let loose, I just don't think I want to be a part of it. I'm making a trek to State College this upcoming weekend.

liberal arts horseshit experience

Recently I purchased a text book at the campus bookstore. This is my first time buying a book for a math class and actually my first experience with what could truly be called a 'text book'. This is all new to me because I major in History and these classes consist of a couple paperbacks and maybe a novel or two. Most can be bought for a couple of beads and a bottle of fire water on amazon or somewhere.

This math text is from an alternate dimension where books are mined from the ground and there are civil wars fought over the rights to dig them up. Blood books is what they're called. During the past three years I think the most I've spent on one single book was maybe 50 bones. This was for a new book, and if memory serves, it was bound in human flesh and written in ink mixed with liquid gold. It came with a blender and a Mexican child to tote it around for me. This semester I found myself shelling out nearly twice that much for a shitty old calculus book. I'm a scholar of the past, I couldn't care less about derivatives or integrals or shoving a function up my ass and pulling the limit out of my ear.

This is all part of the liberal arts horseshit experience. Books that cost more than a hundred dollars make me want to kill myself and everyone around me. This book buying fun has been a penis-softening time. Being the king of cunning, I soon found a way to remedy this problem and get the little bugger raging once more.

"Scan that bitch!!" I shouted to myself, out loud, as I was leaving the bookstore.

So now I sit and I turn the page, push the button. I turn the page and push the button. I'm scanning the book into my computer and then I'm going to return it by Friday for a full refund.

the dandy river

"So this is the new year, well I don't feel any different"

Normally I don't like bands with long names because they always sound pretentious, but Death Cab for Cutie is one of my personal favorites.

I've got the 'it's a new year blues'. For the past couple years or so they have all started with a mean hangover tinged with fear. The hangover for obvious reasons, since new year's eve is one of only a handful of eves with an asterisk attached to it saying that it's all right to get belligerent and act the fool. The fear may not be so obvious, but it is related to the asterisk, the question I'd always ask myself was how much of a fool did I act? Apprehension, mostly, thinking that maybe I did something bad.

This year, instead of the headache and dry mouth, I awoke to the clinking of dishes and a surprisingly bright sun shining in my window. My grandfather was already up, as usual, and doing some dishes in the kitchen. It was a pleasant morning, as I showered, the idea of washing everything away popped into my head. The sins of the past year and the wrongs that I had done or were done to me slowly swirling round down the drain. As quickly as the idea floated into my head, it floated out. Let's face it, that kind of thinking is just a skip over the dandy river into full blown homosexuality.

I decided instead, in less dramatic fashion and fully clothed, that I should just treat it like any other year. As a wise man told me, it really is just another day. I started off without a resolution, but I've found a resolution in my own absolution. Looking forward to 2007, I don't have any high reaching aspirations, but I do think that things might be a little different. At any rate, there will be more to come, look forward to it.