I can't talk to her. She's against shit she can't even pronounce.

After last night's fun, I went to bed at 6 am and slept until 2. The rest of the day was... slow. Fortunately nothing else broke at work. I was bummed at missing Nicole's wedding, but there was no way that mission could have been accomplished without loss of life.

I finally dragged myself out of the house after dark and bought food, etc. I ended up at Ruba, which was full of weird ghosts of ten years ago. I don't think I'd seen Sabrina since Indian Burial Ground Night at Totally Coffee. She didn't acknowledge my existence, for which I am grateful.

Choice "Overheard at Ruba™" quotes:

"I live the same place she does. She has a nice rack. It's been okay."

"Oh, that Dennys. One of my best friends got busted for selling drugs to a minor there! It was awesome."

"You and I have a lot the same background, but you're good-looking."

"You know her. She's the racist secretary."

"I know it was illegal before, I asked you how old is she NOW?"

"No, man, I can't afford any tools. I just do shit to shit, you know?"

Ahh, Ruba.

It was 80 degrees F here at midnight with humidity around 50%. In coastal Orange County. I do not understand.

End of an era, again

Bob's in Washington, NC now.

I guess I have a reason to visit the Outer Banks this fall, and as often as I can now while he's around.

Gonna miss you around here, buddy.

the flat foot floogie, vouty

Yep Roc Heresay, by Slim Gaillard

Yep ruk hu'reesee
Ku'bisinee e kubu'ba
U'lu hu'mish u mak voutee
Yep ruk hu'reesee
U luh mish wey u luh mish voutee
U luh mish u ruenimoa
Yep ruk hu'reesee
Ku'bisinee e kubu'ba
U'lu hu'mish uv oa voutee
Yep ruk hu'reesee
Oa voutimoa
Kibi'sini kibisee voutee kibisee voutee
Kibisee vuetee
Uee chiku chiku chiku chkie
La ho mak vuenimoa
Mu'saan bu or'uenee
Yep ruk hu'reesee
Ku'bisinee e kubu'ba
U'lu hu'mish u mak voutee
Yep ruk hu'reesee
Aluh mish vuetee u luh mish o'reenee
U luh mish vuetee u lu mi rueneemoa
Yep ruk hu'reesee
Ku'bisinee e kubu'ba
U'lu hu'mish u mak voutee
Yep ruk hu'reesee
U luh mish wey chilee un tu'meytoa saus
Ou voutee hu'reesee
Ku'bisinee e kubu'ba
U'lu hu'mish u mak vuetee
Yep ruk hu'reesee
Lu hom la ho mak votimoa
Ki'bisee ni kibisee voutee kibisee ruetee
Kibisee lam no ruenee ue o'ruetee
La ho vueteemoa
Ie suepu vueteemoa ku
U litul spies o mak vozee
Yep ruk hu'reesee
Ku'bisinee e kubu'ba
U'lu hu'mish u mak vuetee
Yep ruk hu'reesee.

Yep Roc Heresy (.mp3, 4.9M)

Good BYE

The shittiest band in Orange County is decamping for Louisville.

A particularly bitter part of my rock-crit past surfaced reading that article, and I fell off the wagon. (Those of us in recovery sometimes fail.) I sent a letter to the editor which wasn't published, and that's a good thing.
( here it is, god help me )

And that's your Bitter Asswipe Update for today.

joliet prison and 99 years, turn turn to the rain and the wind

I talk back to the car radio a lot, particularly when it's not making sense. Today I heard a commercial shilling for a local supermarket chain's loyalty program. The pitch was that you were supporting local schools because they'd give the kids a pencil for every 400,000 cucumbers sold, etc. The ad was pure SPIN selling, starting with "Education is so important. Our schools need new books and new computers all the time so children can progress. And there's something you can do to help!" At which point I yelled "YEAH, YOU COULD PAY YOUR FUCKING TAXES!" That's when I noticed that my window was opening and that the motorcyclist next to me was grinning at me.

Dinner: Chilled poached salmon with mayonnaise and dill; toasted pita bread with a dollop of hummus and fresh ground black pepper; caprese salad with fresh tomatoes on vine, fresh ovolini mozzarella, fresh basil, and good olive oil. Time to prepare: 15 minutes.

I was at Kéan for just an hour or so today, to cool off and slurp a cold coffee beverage. Rich unhappy people have such scrunched-up, sour faces even when they're experiencing pleasures most of the world will never see. Looking dissatisfied when you're having a dark chocolate mocha milkshake in an air-conditioned cafe in Paradise just after buying an iPod must be difficult, but they manage it.

At Trader Joes a plastic surgery disasters woman in her fifties was dragging her husband around hectoring him about their purchases. She'd perch angrily next to some item and pick it up: "Do you want these? Do you like yellow mustard? I like Dijon mustard. Do you want it? Are we going to get Dijon mustard?" He was a tired Tommy Lee Jones who didn't say much except "Okay," or "Go ahead."

90 degrees and humid means that all the beautiful people were showing flesh today. Including the very genuinely beautiful ones and not just the ones who had purchased the standard of beauty as an aftermarket option. A six-footer surfer boy, all tanned abs and long bones and bleached hair-mp, was looking at frozen food next to a hourglass-figured blonde beach goddess with honey-colored skin and shockingly bright blue eyes. They were unaware that they were a Guess! ad because they were trying to figure out which kind of peas to get.

The flower shop next to Kéan has an appropriately fancy name, but their sign with their url on it looks like they're selling the flowers eaten by a demon rather than those painted by an Impressionist. It's not as obvious as "powergenitalia" but they should have realized.

I am currently maintaining crushes on at least three unavailable women. Go me!

In musical news, I'm going to see Steve Wynn this Friday night. It may well be a real Dream Syndicate reunion show of some kind. I have an extra ticket if you're interested and can go with or meet me at McCabe's Guitars in Santa Monica.

I have "Percy's Song" as done by Fairport Convention in my head.