I felt like the last day of school was out after Saturday, I was that happy.
And so I went out to Moon Temple, a place that has drinks so strong, girls from the Southern Hemisphere would not even recognize them as such.
(Oh I made a new dish up: General Tso's Potstickers. Best. Thing. Ever.)
So I come home, and park on the street, but there's a car blocking the road in front of my house. It's 2:30am. So I park where I can, get out of the car, and hear that it's running. And the dome light is on. And there's no one in it.
I approach, but actually, there is someone in it: it's some dude reclined, passed out. And I'm like wft?
So I go to knock on his window, and see his pants are pulled down to just above his knees.
At this exact moment, my friend calls me. I tell him, "whatever you have to say, I've got something better." I don't know what to do. We mull options. Concluded that I knock on the window till he wakes, then walk away like nothing happened. I do it, and go inside. He stalls his car, and then moseys along into the night.
I didn't take any pictures. Sorry.
Working a reasonable amount of hours this week over 5 days! And then I'm doing the solid for my friend, which will be detailed here later.
In fact, I've taken to playing seemingly random clips on youtube of the Macho Man to get people excited at work (ok, really only me.)
Madness. Oh yeah.
I thought last week was crazy; after looking at this one with a more detailed eye, it seems worse. I guess I don't care too much, which is the mental place to be.
Just had an experiment with my housemates: The difference between people's interpretations of descriptions. (A discussion about criminal sketch artists was the basis.) So I conducted an experiment: Have one describe a criminal, and then the other one and I would draw the description of the criminal.
They were wildly varied. Mine looked like me in 20 years after I become a drifter, but with close-cropped curly hair. The other looked like the Viola Swamp from Miss Nelson is missing. But with a penis.
On Friday, the company's sales were in the 60-65 THOUSAND dollars range. Plus a 30k or so bar tab that hasn't been actually tabulated yet. Basically: Insane.
So, I went out to dinner last night with my friend, gamed at home via the internets, today I am watching football, seeing the Fantastic Mr. Fox, internet shopping/gifting (maybe a new sleeping bag for Aaron?), and eating chili.
Tako-yaki. (I once made Beth eat these at Kazu in Welly)
Miso. Sapporo. Tea.
And the health inspector came around, freaking the kitchen staff out, in general.
After dinner, T and I walked around our old hood, the original Seattle hood for me: the ID. It's such a funny neighborhood, one that contrast so much between day and night. And it's sort of boring, and it's seedy. But the food? ぐらと！
We wandered into a vintage video game store, and held controllers of outdated and once obsessed over game systems. A Panasonic 3DO? They had one for sale. The best feel of any controller in your hand? A Dreamcast's!
Afterwards, the magic was beginning to wane as we walked around, and we got stopped by someone trying to get some ducats out of us. I said "sorry." Trever actually went a different route: he said "Italiano" Thinking that the woman wouldn't hassle him further, she began to say any Italian word she could come up with. He was surprised, I laughed, and then he blew up at her in fake Italian crazy shouting.
There was a Mama-Mia in there somewhere I think....