My escape from f-wording Cookiecutterville comes on a 92 degree morning with a sick baby niece and a lot of left over eggs and onions to eat. Salsa fixes one of the three problems but salsa is like the duct tape of food.
We hang out at the house until its time for me to get to the airport with a stop at the base on Coronado Island (the Anti-Rock) to drop of babykins to Maverick. It is an intimidating place with pinch of free air show as there are high powered fighter jets roaring overhead. Is that Goose? No, he's still dead.
This time I'm back on Eskimo Head Airlines with burning wildfires screwing with the residents of Santa Barbara below and an impressive display of volcanoes once we cross into Whoregon. The clouds are low and only the peaks peek thru while the sun sets slowly.
Upon arrival I set out to catch that 560 bus that will get me directly to Renton but miss it when I'm stopped by a lady at a desk working for a charity to get coats for kids. Her Jedi mind tricks cost me five bucks. Damnit. I hate doing good. So I end up on the 140 bus with its share of freaks. In fact I'm not writing from my notes right now. I can still recall the skanky chick asking people if she can borrow their cell phone. I'm amazed someone helped her. I have GO AWAY allovermyface.
The bus goes by the cineplex and I spy James Bond's new one is opening there tonight. Yes! I bail off the bus at the central station and slip over to the Cedar River BBQ for the Cedar River Platter loaded with every type of dead beast in Texas with a side of mac salad. Its an amazingly large dish but its no 15" pizza pan.
Scarfing it down I fast walk the short cut I discovered last week to the movie and I'm right on time despite the foot pain acting up again. Its now a pimp limp so I'm cool.
The previews start and there is this kid in a car being chased across the desert by what looks like a motorcycle....
What-Is-Yer-Name.
James Tiberius Kirk.
HOLY MUDDERPHUTTING SCHMITT! Its a STAR TREK trailer and I just about hyperventilate. Good thing I didn't have a date to scare off with inner nerd child. At this point I don't even care about 007. I want to see the preview again and plot how I can sneak in another movie and see it one more time or speed around the Earf and propel myself forward in time to May 8th, 2009.
Daniel Gaybait Craig's second effort isn't quite as impressive as his first and I'm puzzled his car doesn't utilize any tricks during the opening chase scene. AND he never really nails the Bond Girl. Its like James Bond in Kodiak.
I still have my duffel bag from my trip and after a quickie beer at DC's I get the bus back up the hill to drop it off and shower. Its 50 degrees outside and perfect. SoCal can suck my overcast loving nuts.
I walk back down to DC's and once again Friday is Dollar PBR Night. onetwothreefourfivesix. Brother J shows up and we relocate to "Bergie's" to BS before hitting the drive-thru for my first ever McRib. What is this thing I just ate?
Saturday, November 15th, 2008
Again, I wake up way too early for a vacation but I need to get downtown for FISH EXPO. I get a ride to the bus stop and them metro my way towards Qwest Field. Some dude has a Asus netbook he's playing a game on. Sweet.
As I get closer to the exhibition center the windows look dark. I put my face to the glass and notice it is empty. Like my head. I had the wrong date, it is next week. I'm an idiot. There is a new Bases Loaded-type team store across the street I visit. Its about five times bigger than Scott's if you can picture that.
There are some winter boots I'm still after at REI but there aren't any good bus routes to get there so it takes awhile to get there. Once there I decide against the boots and go for lunch at Laadla Cuisine of India. The custard is to die for. Everytime I go here it slowly moves up on overtaking the place down by Southcenter I like.
Look at the time! Its Saturday and my plan is to call into Jock of the Rock from Hooters and get a waitress on the air because that's about my level. I succeed.
We hang out at the house until its time for me to get to the airport with a stop at the base on Coronado Island (the Anti-Rock) to drop of babykins to Maverick. It is an intimidating place with pinch of free air show as there are high powered fighter jets roaring overhead. Is that Goose? No, he's still dead.
This time I'm back on Eskimo Head Airlines with burning wildfires screwing with the residents of Santa Barbara below and an impressive display of volcanoes once we cross into Whoregon. The clouds are low and only the peaks peek thru while the sun sets slowly.
Upon arrival I set out to catch that 560 bus that will get me directly to Renton but miss it when I'm stopped by a lady at a desk working for a charity to get coats for kids. Her Jedi mind tricks cost me five bucks. Damnit. I hate doing good. So I end up on the 140 bus with its share of freaks. In fact I'm not writing from my notes right now. I can still recall the skanky chick asking people if she can borrow their cell phone. I'm amazed someone helped her. I have GO AWAY allovermyface.
The bus goes by the cineplex and I spy James Bond's new one is opening there tonight. Yes! I bail off the bus at the central station and slip over to the Cedar River BBQ for the Cedar River Platter loaded with every type of dead beast in Texas with a side of mac salad. Its an amazingly large dish but its no 15" pizza pan.
Scarfing it down I fast walk the short cut I discovered last week to the movie and I'm right on time despite the foot pain acting up again. Its now a pimp limp so I'm cool.
The previews start and there is this kid in a car being chased across the desert by what looks like a motorcycle....
What-Is-Yer-Name.
James Tiberius Kirk.
HOLY MUDDERPHUTTING SCHMITT! Its a STAR TREK trailer and I just about hyperventilate. Good thing I didn't have a date to scare off with inner nerd child. At this point I don't even care about 007. I want to see the preview again and plot how I can sneak in another movie and see it one more time or speed around the Earf and propel myself forward in time to May 8th, 2009.
Daniel Gaybait Craig's second effort isn't quite as impressive as his first and I'm puzzled his car doesn't utilize any tricks during the opening chase scene. AND he never really nails the Bond Girl. Its like James Bond in Kodiak.
I still have my duffel bag from my trip and after a quickie beer at DC's I get the bus back up the hill to drop it off and shower. Its 50 degrees outside and perfect. SoCal can suck my overcast loving nuts.
I walk back down to DC's and once again Friday is Dollar PBR Night. onetwothreefourfivesix. Brother J shows up and we relocate to "Bergie's" to BS before hitting the drive-thru for my first ever McRib. What is this thing I just ate?
Saturday, November 15th, 2008
Again, I wake up way too early for a vacation but I need to get downtown for FISH EXPO. I get a ride to the bus stop and them metro my way towards Qwest Field. Some dude has a Asus netbook he's playing a game on. Sweet.
As I get closer to the exhibition center the windows look dark. I put my face to the glass and notice it is empty. Like my head. I had the wrong date, it is next week. I'm an idiot. There is a new Bases Loaded-type team store across the street I visit. Its about five times bigger than Scott's if you can picture that.
There are some winter boots I'm still after at REI but there aren't any good bus routes to get there so it takes awhile to get there. Once there I decide against the boots and go for lunch at Laadla Cuisine of India. The custard is to die for. Everytime I go here it slowly moves up on overtaking the place down by Southcenter I like.
Look at the time! Its Saturday and my plan is to call into Jock of the Rock from Hooters and get a waitress on the air because that's about my level. I succeed.
Her name is Desiree and she has a broken arm in a cast but on-the-air I just say she a one arm Hooters girl. She chats with the Big Carrot before I have to down my beer and leave to get back to Qwest Field to take the stadium tour. The trolley is close but I can't waste a minute and take the bus that just showed up. Still haven't got on that trolley yet. Mr. Roger's would write me out of the will but he's already dead. Like Goose.
Tours at 12:30pm and 2:30pm daily. Its 2:30pm. The group I'm in is so big they split us in two and call in a second guide. It seems odd touring a stadium I go to all the time but I rarely leave my section. We head up to the top to the 300 level above where I sit and yet he makes no mention of the 12 man flag pole just feet away. Are you kidding me? That's like going to Bethlehem and skipping where JC popped out Mary's cooter. 50 points for tacky, thanks.
We get to the press box and FOX is setting up the telestrator for the game. They give is a quick demo and afterwards we're told its rare to get to see that on the tour.
Most of the facts and figures about the team I already know or aren't very interesting but I did like the fact that 97% of the concrete from the Kingdom was recycles to make Qwest Field.
The 12th man Suite is cool and is just to the right of my regular seat. It is given away in a free drawing every week. I'm never going to a game again without signing up for this.
Tours at 12:30pm and 2:30pm daily. Its 2:30pm. The group I'm in is so big they split us in two and call in a second guide. It seems odd touring a stadium I go to all the time but I rarely leave my section. We head up to the top to the 300 level above where I sit and yet he makes no mention of the 12 man flag pole just feet away. Are you kidding me? That's like going to Bethlehem and skipping where JC popped out Mary's cooter. 50 points for tacky, thanks.
We get to the press box and FOX is setting up the telestrator for the game. They give is a quick demo and afterwards we're told its rare to get to see that on the tour.
Most of the facts and figures about the team I already know or aren't very interesting but I did like the fact that 97% of the concrete from the Kingdom was recycles to make Qwest Field.
The 12th man Suite is cool and is just to the right of my regular seat. It is given away in a free drawing every week. I'm never going to a game again without signing up for this.
Then we got to go on the field. Now I'm right in front of my seat and I have a little one-on-one chat with the guide and people walk around dazed on the FieldTurf like they just set foot on the moon. Although you'd think this is Ground Zero for all that I am I'm not overpowered by the experience.
We finish in the visiting team locker room and the press room where they let you stand at the podium. Just now I realize I should have handed off the Flipcam and done the I'M A MAN, I'm 40! routine. I'd pay the seven bucks and walk the whole thing over again just to do this.
Afterwards I shell out for the 2009 Sea Gals calendar for the Alderwood Penthouse and get some Seahawks boxers. Because you need Seahawks boxers, that's why.
It tok me forever to figure out where to catch a bus going south to Renton left from in a sketchy block I don't normally visit. Its getting dark. The rain is starting. I'm armed only with 12 cheerleaders on glossy cardstock and a pair of Hawkaroos. Don't mess with me.
Once home I take a couple hours to relax until my overstretched Glad bag of a stomach says reload, bastard. I'm clueless where to go in Renton but it has to be somewhere new. And as it turns out my choices are all rather upscale.
Fin N Bone's Seafood Gumbo
vs.
Melrose Grill's Stuffed Pork Chop
vs.
Armando's Spaghetti and Meatballs
Oddly the last two teams I saw play live played each other for the righ to go to the Super Bowl.vs.
Melrose Grill's Stuffed Pork Chop
vs.
Armando's Spaghetti and Meatballs
I go with the gumbo. I choose to sit at the bar because I'm a Kodiak boy and somewhat of a scumbag unworthy of a table with covered in a nice white cloth. Out comes the bartender who is simply the most beautiful woman I've seen on this entire trip. She has a kindergarten teacher calm about her and of course starting using sentences beginning in "My husband...." The hostess should not go unmentioned either, cute with a capital C.
There is some choad playing jazz guitar that only a highest donating level KMXT supporter would love and some regular takes a stool near me to complain about the Huskies. The music turns out to be not that bad and then my meal comes. Its small but very tasty with big chunks of salmon. And it ain't farmed according to She God.
"Only the best," she says as if they brought it in just for El Sandinista.
I have a Elysian Porter with my dinner which is also good and gives me a immediate buzz.
After that I cross the way back to Melrose for a lil Crown with a lil more CocaCola. There is this superhottie at the bar and following the voice of the porter I just had sit as close as i can without being overly creepy but some dude takes her away in under a minute as if she was waiting for him to pick her up. Still, I'm liking this place. The bartender is a bald brother and is messing with the rest of the staff relentlessly. Soon they are all off shift and he's serving them. I talk with them for a bit before going.
Should have stayed. DC's is DOA. One Manny's and I'm 5000. I guess it would be TT or A4 these days. Pass this along to Flavor Flav, please.
I do a walk thru of William's Sports Bar and the band there has a sexy girl drummer but I don't care for this place and go right out and across the street to the Irish bar with a new name.
They have an indie rock slash metal cover band that rules (pinkie and index finger extended). After my first beer I ask for the cheapest, nastiest beer they got. Bar Maid gives me a PBR. I'm insulted. But not really. She's wearing a peach colored dress with a bare back, kinda hippy, kinda southern, and something you don't see in K-Town.
There's a babe with Bud Light Lime, which should be the cheapest, nastiest beer in the joint. I take no action. She's alone and has bad taste in beer, what an opportunity untaken. The crowd is beginning to thin and I go with the herd aming my way to "Bergie's".
Girls.
When this place produces its pure gold. "Bergie's" can suck over and over but I've seen enough nights like this to keep coming back and THIS is one of those nights. There are four really good options. Even the owner Mrs. Love comes up to me and points them out. I'm not Jeff Healey, baby. Yet.....I take no action. Too many Rain Dogs and clicks on the pedometer today, swagger is in the sewer, I don't know what my problem is but I was punching myselfintheface the whole walk home. Writing this two months later I still regret being that weak.
Sunday, November 16th, 2008
I'm on vacation death row. The end is near. And so is the end zone. Off again to Qwest for the Cardinals game but without the Fan Van and I couldn't find my jersey, still missing from last game.
We park behind Safeco and utilize the opem concessions for drinks and the potty. I discover if you go upstairs the bathroom is just about unused. I get an Apricot Ale (shhhhh, don't tell a soul) but have to pound it as soon as I get it as we are marching to kickoff.
I get the group to sign up for the suite before taking our seats. Ricky Watters is the flag raiser today which doesn't do much for me. They are running out of popular peeps to do that. By 2012 they'll be down to The Mariner Moose and Detlef Schrempf.
The nice weather is replaced by a bank of fog as if to symbolize the end of our season is near or a bunch of bug-like creatures are about to snatch us for brunch.
I stare at the banners.
2004 NFC West Champs.
2005 NFC West Champs.
2006 NFC West Champs.
2007 NFC West Champs.
Sigh.
This girl Cammie is giving the entire Section 122 a hard on. I chew out her friend Maddy for wearing a Galloway jersey. JC and a side of rice, its 2008, update update.
Matt's out of sync. I'm done, they're done, we're done.
Traffic is horrid after the game. Stop by Safeway and grab a Lotto ticket. I crash on the couch and hang out with Peanut, Walter, and the Dead Terrorist. Then I go downstairs and start my reboot for Kodiak living. I miss Princess Lovebug.
Monday, November 17th, 2008
I wake up at 12 midnight, 3:12am, and 4:08am. Jerm takes me to the airport. My notes end with...
There is some choad playing jazz guitar that only a highest donating level KMXT supporter would love and some regular takes a stool near me to complain about the Huskies. The music turns out to be not that bad and then my meal comes. Its small but very tasty with big chunks of salmon. And it ain't farmed according to She God.
"Only the best," she says as if they brought it in just for El Sandinista.
I have a Elysian Porter with my dinner which is also good and gives me a immediate buzz.
After that I cross the way back to Melrose for a lil Crown with a lil more CocaCola. There is this superhottie at the bar and following the voice of the porter I just had sit as close as i can without being overly creepy but some dude takes her away in under a minute as if she was waiting for him to pick her up. Still, I'm liking this place. The bartender is a bald brother and is messing with the rest of the staff relentlessly. Soon they are all off shift and he's serving them. I talk with them for a bit before going.
Should have stayed. DC's is DOA. One Manny's and I'm 5000. I guess it would be TT or A4 these days. Pass this along to Flavor Flav, please.
I do a walk thru of William's Sports Bar and the band there has a sexy girl drummer but I don't care for this place and go right out and across the street to the Irish bar with a new name.
They have an indie rock slash metal cover band that rules (pinkie and index finger extended). After my first beer I ask for the cheapest, nastiest beer they got. Bar Maid gives me a PBR. I'm insulted. But not really. She's wearing a peach colored dress with a bare back, kinda hippy, kinda southern, and something you don't see in K-Town.
There's a babe with Bud Light Lime, which should be the cheapest, nastiest beer in the joint. I take no action. She's alone and has bad taste in beer, what an opportunity untaken. The crowd is beginning to thin and I go with the herd aming my way to "Bergie's".
Girls.
When this place produces its pure gold. "Bergie's" can suck over and over but I've seen enough nights like this to keep coming back and THIS is one of those nights. There are four really good options. Even the owner Mrs. Love comes up to me and points them out. I'm not Jeff Healey, baby. Yet.....I take no action. Too many Rain Dogs and clicks on the pedometer today, swagger is in the sewer, I don't know what my problem is but I was punching myselfintheface the whole walk home. Writing this two months later I still regret being that weak.
Sunday, November 16th, 2008
I'm on vacation death row. The end is near. And so is the end zone. Off again to Qwest for the Cardinals game but without the Fan Van and I couldn't find my jersey, still missing from last game.
We park behind Safeco and utilize the opem concessions for drinks and the potty. I discover if you go upstairs the bathroom is just about unused. I get an Apricot Ale (shhhhh, don't tell a soul) but have to pound it as soon as I get it as we are marching to kickoff.
I get the group to sign up for the suite before taking our seats. Ricky Watters is the flag raiser today which doesn't do much for me. They are running out of popular peeps to do that. By 2012 they'll be down to The Mariner Moose and Detlef Schrempf.
The nice weather is replaced by a bank of fog as if to symbolize the end of our season is near or a bunch of bug-like creatures are about to snatch us for brunch.
I stare at the banners.
2004 NFC West Champs.
2005 NFC West Champs.
2006 NFC West Champs.
2007 NFC West Champs.
Sigh.
This girl Cammie is giving the entire Section 122 a hard on. I chew out her friend Maddy for wearing a Galloway jersey. JC and a side of rice, its 2008, update update.
Matt's out of sync. I'm done, they're done, we're done.
Traffic is horrid after the game. Stop by Safeway and grab a Lotto ticket. I crash on the couch and hang out with Peanut, Walter, and the Dead Terrorist. Then I go downstairs and start my reboot for Kodiak living. I miss Princess Lovebug.
Monday, November 17th, 2008
I wake up at 12 midnight, 3:12am, and 4:08am. Jerm takes me to the airport. My notes end with...
You can have anything you want but you can't have everything
