Fuck you, Texas! Gimme back my luggage!

Just getting settled back into San Francisco life after spending a bit of time on the road. I took this photo at a wedding I attended in Connecticut. It pretty much sums up my whole vacation. A picture is worth a zillion words.

Travel is so expensive, but worth it! There are lots of cool people on the east coast, and if I were God, I would remove the flyover states and connect the east and the west coasts of the U.S. so that we could REALLY get this party started. But alas, Middle 'Merca has to be the unflushable shit in the toilet.

My good friend Katelyn took us out for some really amazing pizza in Boston and then we hit this divey sports bar called Tavern on the Hill. Living in San Francisco gives you almost God-like power to denounce all neighborhoods who claim to be on a hill. Winter Hill is no Potrero Hill! Even Capitol Hill really isn't a hill, more like a bump covered in ugly people. There was a great sign in the bar, printed off a computer, that read "No shots after 1 AM on Friday and Saturday." Makes ya really look forward to Sunday nights, the true sports fan's drinking night.

Being a fish out of water is fun sometimes. Everyone in this bar was wearing sports jersey's and sweatpants. The ladies were chewing tobacco and playing Keno. I tried to brag that I used to live in Roger Clemens' neighborhood when I was a kid, and I quickly learned that in Red Sox land, one must never speak of Roger Clemens. I also tried to claim that I had a crush on Kirby Pucket, and was immediately reprimanded, for Kirby wasn't even on the Red Sox. And he has some crazy ugly eye disease that eventually took him from the Earthly realm. Oh well, what the hell do I know about sports. Speaking of sports, I caught some freestyle motorcross on TV today and decided that baseball and football should both be abolished and freestyle BMX and Motorcorss should be the new national pastimes. If only those boys were as hot as the rodeo boys.