Tuesday noon I drove north from LA, with nowhere to be until Thursday afternoon to pick my parents up in Salt Lake City. That's a long drive, but certainly not a 48-hour drive, to thus began my mini-roadtrip across the western U.S.

It's amazing how easily I'm able to slip back into the Roadtrip-mentality I developed while driving to all 48 contiguous states in 48 days on my landmark Roadtrip 2 years ago. In fact, it was exactly two-years ago; on this date in 2003 I was somewhere in the eastern Midwest, headed across Ohio on my way to Gettysburg, and New Jersey, the suckling fetus state. On that roadtrip I drove by certain rules, such as staying on small highways as much as possible, swimming in mountain lakes whenever I passed them, and seeing as many small towns as possible. How else to you see signs that say things like "Jesus saves, and you can too at Hinckley hardware!" I also picked up a radio station somewhere southeast of Oakland which had the call-letters 96.5 KOIT. It was a smooth-jazz station station appropriately playing Barry White at the time.

After a great stop-over visit in Berkeley, I now head east Wednesday afternoon to pass out in my car tonight somewhere in central Nevada. My intended destination is the city of Battle Mountain, which sounds like He-Man's home town or something. Hopefully I can find a rest stop so I don't have to sleep outside of a gas station or a day-care center again.

Oh, and here's a mountain lake I swam in tonight on my way over to Nevada.

Mysterious Streets part 2 - 9/29/05
I got the following email from my friend Jeremy regarding the Streets of Redondo Beach post:

>>>
Now, perhaps you've noticed this...but neither Kolleen, nor Amy, nor Alex, nor anyone else I've talked to who fucking GREW UP in the south bay did. And I picked up on it in my first 15 seconds being in Redondo:

In addition to Agate, Beryl, Carnelian, Diamond, Emerald, Garnet, Pearl, Ruby, Sapphire and Topaz all being gems, they're also in alphabetical order.

So, um, there's that.
>>>

Well observed, Jeremy. Though I had noticed that there seemed to be an alphabetical trend in these gem names, I had no idea that they started so nicely at "A" and proceeded so systematically. Thank you.

There are, however, a few problems:

- Why do they start skipping things? It goes so well until it gets to "F", and then... nothing. Aren't there are any gems that start with "F"? What about Frankincence? Oh wait, that's something they gave to baby Jesus. What about Franzia? Oh wait, that's a boxed wine.

- And why do they stop after Topaz, and change over to Avenues A-F (where they also stop, for the record). I'm pretty sure there are gems that start with letters higher than "T". What about Zirconium? Or is that only used with the word "Cubic" in front of it, and bought by cheap bastards like me?

- My biggest concern: What's up with all these fucking random gems? Beryl? Garnet? Carnelian!? Who knows that Carnelian is a gem, except Jeremy and the obscure gem-lovers website he probably used for research? At least now I know that Agate is pronounced that way, and not "ah-GOT-ay", which kind of sounds like it might have fit in Mexican Lady Town.

- Also, what's up with the random other gem streets, thrown in to mess up the pattern? On closer inspection, I noticed there's a tiny street called Onyx in eastern Redondo, right between Emerald and Garnet. Um, Onyx doesn't start with F. There are also two "A" streets - near Agate, there's a tiny street called Amethyst. Who the fuck knows that Amethyst is a gem? Maybe the overweight drunken ADD city planners were even more diabolical than I thought.

- Probably the only good thing that came out of all this is that I finally settled the long-running debate about how the street we live on is pronounced. It's "BER'ul", like the cylindrical wooden tub you use to clothe yourself when you're naked and you live in the 18th century. Everybody who tried to tell they were from Redondo and that it's pronounced "BURL", you can eat a dick up.

The Mysterious Streets of Redondo Beach - 9/27/05
I live on a street called Paulina (I know, ironic considering my name). The next street over is called Maria. The one after that is Lucia. After that come Juanita, Irena, Elena, Francisca and Gertruda. Apparently, I live in Mexican Lady Town.

My friend Mary lives on Carnegie Avenue, in north Redondo Beach, a block over from Rockefeller, Morgan, Grant and Vanderbilt Avenues. Her house is a little nicer than mine: rent's a little steeper in Tycoon Town.

These list-item-named roads are in no way complete. The streets past the high school, going south, are Diamond, Emerald, Opal, Pearl, Ruby, Sapphire, and Topaz... but it stops there. No mention of Turquoise, or Quartz. After Topaz comes Avenue A, Avenue B, and so on, all the way up through Avenue F. Then it stops, and switches to streets named random things in Spanish. I guess Hooked-On-Phonics Town is still in development.

I picture a scene where a half-dozen overweight city planners (of the top-hat and monocle variety) sit around a card table playing Scategories. They all have Attention Deficit Disorder. Also, they are very drunk, which is where names like Knob Hill and Gaycrest came from. There's also a street called Voorhees, which I think is when they switched over to drunken Scrabble.

If you have a better theory as to how the Redondo Beach streets got named, I'd love to hear it. Until then, I'm sticking to mine.

Student Truck Drivers - 9/26/05
Once, on a road trip, I passed a semi-truck that didn't seem to be carrying any cargo. Instead, the trailer was labeled in big block letter with the words "Student Driver".

I suppose Truck Drivers need to pass their behind-the-wheel, too. It just struck me as interesting.

• #14: Honking your horn on cue of passing kids making arm-pump gesture.

• #62: Falling asleep at on-ramps.

• #7: Parallel parking into a 47-foot spot without hitting any cones.

• #27: Changing sixteen tires in sixteen minutes.

• #55: Buying porn at truck stops.

• #100: Masturbating while driving.

There is Officially a Website for Everything - 9/24/05
If you like cats, or random stuff, or absurdly hilarious websites, check out www.stuffonmycat.com.

It's exactly what it sounds like.

Sam's Elevator - 9/22/05

This is the elevator panel in my friend Sam's apartment building. Guess which button you push to get to the main floor? It's the alarm button. Just kidding, it's the G button. Seriously, it's not the one with the star. I must have mistakenly gone to the first floor (which is just a bunch more apartment doors) roughly 1,000,000 times. They must have had a sale on discount used elevator panels at Goodwill or something. Yes, Sam, you may steal this lengthy and clever post if you like. It is your elevator, after all.

Ilana - 9/20/05
My friend Ilana from Minnesota was in town visiting this weekend. How did it go, you ask?

It's better not to ask.

Modern Convenience - 9/19/05
An actual conversation between myself and a customer service agent at Adelphia (our cable/internet provider):

ME: Hi, I want to change the name on our account from my roommate's name to my name. He moved out.
ADELPHIA: Do you currently have Adelphia service?
ME: Uh… yeah. It's just my roommate moved out. I want to pay the bills from now on.
AD: OK, did your address change?
ME: No.
AD: Did your phone number change?
ME: No.
AD: Do you want to change your service?
ME: No, I told you, I just want to change the name on the account. My roommate moved out.
AD: OK, well I'm afraid I'm going to need your roommate's authorization.
ME: No problem, he gave me his social security number.
AD: No, I'm afraid we need to actually talk to him.
ME: Do you want me to have him call you? I'll call him on my other phone right now.
AD: No, I'm afraid he has to come down.
(A pause. I'm a little shocked.)
ME: To the store?
AD: Yes, the store in Hermosa.
ME: He lives in Hollywood! That's like 45 minutes away!
AD: I'm afraid he needs to come down.
ME: Look, all we want to do is have the bills start coming to me instead of him. Same address, same everything. Can't you just take his name off the account? It's not like he needs to say it's OK to bill him or something.
(A pause)
AD: I'm afraid he needs to come down.
ME: Can't I have him call you?
AD: No.
ME: Can't I come over and hand you my cell phone with him on the other end?
AD: No.
ME: So you're telling me there's absolutely no way to change a name on an account, over the phone?
AD: No.
ME: That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.
(A pause. There is nothing that can be said to this, because we both know it's true)

So Sam did come down, and we went over to the Adelphia store together... where Sam promptly sat there talking to a friend on his cell phone for half an hour while I did all the dealing with the agent. He didn't need to show them a driver's license, talk to them, say his name, anything.

It's a good thing Adelphia has a monopoly on cable services in South Bay. We wouldn't want them to have to compete with anyone.

We've done it! - 9/17/05

Congratulations everyone, Unleaded has reached $3.00! It's truly a glorious day; God bless America!

Two Years in L.A. - 9/15/05
Well, I've officially been in LA for two years. Some things haven't changed:

A) Still writing like crazy
B) Still a security guard
C) Still teaching rich kids how to take the SAT
D) Still have crazy roommates

Some things have changed:

AA) Occasionally getting paid for writing, even if it's just math textbook and SAT guides. About to make a big push to get another agent and make money for things people want to read.
BB) Now just being a security guard for the fun of it, rather than the money.
CC) Now getting mail for
- Paul Jury, CEO (a testament that I'm getting better at C))
- Mr. and Mrs. Brian Saito (a testament that aforementioned roommates are getting better at D))
DD) Now writing too many things in bullet list form

At the beginning of the summer I made a list of some things I was going to do with "all the free time" I though I would have. Yeah, right. Let's see how I'm doing:

1) Write a novel
- Not yet. Still got it in me though.

2) Watch TV
- Check. I want to have your babies, Tivo.

3) Write an SAT prep book
- Check.

4) Lift weights
- Push it! Push it! CHECK!!!

5) Learn Latin
- Did you know that the word "Eulogy" comes from the roots "eu" (good) and "logy" (speech), and that the word "Sophomore" comes from the roots "soph" (wise) and "mor" (fool), to literally mean "Wise fool"? It turns out at the end of my sophomore year in Los Angeles, I was studying etymology, not Latin.

6) Learn to sing
- Just started taking lessons. I'm already a maestro in the shower.

7) Take the GRE
- Almost, taking it in less than a month. Also have decided to take the GMAT, just for the hell of it.

8) Get drunk
- Check. And I mean check.

Year 3, bring it on.

Claw Hammer - 9/13/05
While I was in Chicago, I heard this news tidbit that repudable wacky news sources have probably already reported and mocked thoroughly months ago. But while I may be late on the news, I still like to pass it along to those who may not have heard about it. And add my own twisted mockery.

Allegedly, a man in the South or something killed his wife because she wanted to cuddle after sex, while he wanted to watch Mike Tyson clips on SportsCenter. So he beat her to death with a claw hammer, hitting her roughly 70 times before tiring out. Then, I suppose, he watched SportsCenter and then turned himself.

Some might deem this story wacky enough already. But I'd like to point out a couple things that strike me as particularly wacky:

- First of all, he wanted to watch SportsCenter. Don't get me wrong, SportsCenter's a good show. It's just that I think SportsCenter might be the only show on television that repeats not only every day, but every half hour.

- He wanted to watch Mike Tyson clips. I don't think I even need to say anything about this.

- He beat her to death with a claw hammer. Did he get all the way to the meat-tenderizing drawer, or do they keep one in their bed stand? I guess you never know when a pork roast might need to be softened in the middle of the night. In bed. I dunno, it just seems like an awfully specific murder weapon. It's like beating someone to death with a spark-plug socket-wrench, or a garden weasel.

- He hit her roughly 70 times. C'mon, guy, it's doesn't take 70 hits to kill your wife with a claw hammer. 25-30, max.

- Finally, couldn't there have been a compromise in this tragedy? Perhaps I don't understand the nature of this couple's post-coital activities, or the location of their television set, but can't you watch Sports Center while cuddling? You can certainly do it a whole lot easier than you can watch SportsCenter while claw-hammering your wife to death. I mean, SportsCenter's a deep show - all those thuds and yells would surely drown out some of the subtle, witty repartee.

My Fortune - 9/11/05
The other night at dinner, I received the following fortune inside a fortune cookie:

They're just not even trying anymore.

Stripfest Pictures! - 9/9/05
At long last, a couple pictures to show you from Stripfest '05. To recap, Stripfest is an annual party we have in South Bay where everybody dresses as a stripper who hasn't stripped yet (aka guys go as construction workers, cops, firefighters, etc; girls go as french maids, cheerleaders, schoolgirls, etc.) It tends to get fairly debaucherous.

Actually, this picture pretty much sums it up:

Although I also like this picture, where it looks like my arm is mysteriously creeping into frame over Jim's shoulder...

It's actually Mary's hand (Mary was the main organizer of the whole saturnalia). How creepy.

So that's it. No more pictures.

OK, you twisted my arm. Here's a little collage of the chaos that ensued.

Yeah, that's how we roll in South Bay.

How Horses Get Preggers - 9/8/05
I've been meaning to post this quick response from my veterinarian friend Sarah, about the mule reproduction post a few weeks back. The question was how, exactly, mules are spawned, since its parents are a horse and a donkey, who probably wouldn't want to bone each other. Well, maybe the donkey would... but I digress. Apparently there's a website that has all my answers... and photos to back it up:

>>>
Hey Paul

Check out http://www.equimount.com/. We learned all about this in repro class last semester.

Guess how they do it in dogs? Manual. Them are some lucky dogs I guess.

-S
>>>

Indeed, Sarah. Indeed.

Electrical Surge - 9/6/05
In perhaps an ominous start to our year as roommates, Friday night's Paulina 3 party was accompanied by some kind of 1am electrical surge that knocked out several electrical appliances in our house and in the adjacent units. In total, we lost:
- Noah's computer (the biggest loss - he just bought it)
- Erin's TV
- Noah's fan
- Brian's receiver*
- Three power converter cables

*Though we later learned that Brian's receiver had indeed not been fried, merely hooked up wrong by idiot me.

There was also that horrific smell of melted plastic that lingered in Noah's room for a full day afterwards... unfortunately assuring us that the problem with his computer was not simply a matter of hooking it up wrong.

Though certainly the least serious, the loss of three separate power cables was certainly the strangest loss out of the group. One hooked to the modem, another to our router, and a third to an old Discman in my room, three different cables simultaneously burnt out, while protecting the much more valuable (except the Discman) pieces of equipment hooked up to them. Cables, I pour one out for you - you're as good as surge protectors.

Possible causes for the deleterious surge:
- Somebody spilled beer into an outlet (very likely)
- Our party was rocking SO hard that an electromagnetic pulse was generated (somewhat likely)
- It's Iraq's fault (not likely)
- A pre-invasion technology-disabling ray gun, shot from space by aliens (probably the most likely scenario)

Damn you aliens, our power cables will be avenged.

Family Picture - 9/5/05
We've done it. With Kolleen's departure, the cast of Paulina 2 has officially moved out, and Paulina 3 has taken its place. Friday was our world premiere... and what better way than with a house party? Already there have been stories (of the Scootskate variety, and others not suitable to reprint here), and you can expect many more over the next 12 months. Stay tuned.

The new class (from left): Noah, Erin, Scooter and Me.
We all look drunk and terrible in our dorky glasses.

Free Treadmill for the Masses - 9/2/05
How many people in South Bay does it take to get a free treadmill? Apparently about 35, because that's how many emails I had to respond to before somebody would come and take the goddamn thing away.

Several months back, our good neighbors Sarah and Jeff offered us a free treadmill that had just been sitting in their garage for a year. Being in love with free stuff, we took it… and it has sat in our garage ever since. Amazing that nobody would want to use a treadmill that was probably among the first five ever made, has a running area only about 8 inches across, and roars like a jet engine every time you turn it on.

Anyway, I finally realized it was just going to continue to take up space, and decided to give it away. Since all good stories start with Craigslist, that's where I turned, and posted the following:

So we got this old treadmill we never use. It ain't pretty, but it works - plugs into the wall, has a couple setting knobs, is a nice beige color.

It's just sitting in our front yard, so if you come pick it up, it's yours. Just email me and I'll give you our address.

Within 5 minutes of posting, I had 3 responses. Within 10 minutes, I had 3 more. Piece of cake, I figured. I'll just respond to a couple, so people don't trip over each other, and it'll be gone by tomorrow.

Or so I thought. Tomorrow came, and the treadmill was still there. "OK, people are lazy," I thought. "Even for a free treadmill. I'll just respond to a couple more emails.

So I did. And a couple more. And a couple more. Three days later, I'd responded to at least 10 people, and nobody had come to pick up the treadmill! Is this too hard for you people? Did the original email, which you so quickly responded to, not state clearly that all you had to do was come and get it? Why would you respond and then not come to get your free treadmill?

This aggravated me even more than the potential Craigslist roommates who would respond to our post, saying how much they loved us, and then never email again when we offered to have them come by and see the house. At least those people would have had to pay rent eventually. Maybe they could have gotten a better offer. But what, was there someplace else offering two free treadmills? Maybe we should have offered a free piece of exercise equipment to everyone who came over to interview to be a roommate, though I bet people still would have flaked. God I hate the masses so much.

Finally this morning I got so sick of it that I just responded to everyone that had emailed - by this point there were like 35 of them. Just look at my Outlook - I think "Free Treadmill" has finally surpassed "Free Ink Cartridges" as the most abundant email subject in my trash bin. So I sent out two dozen emails at once, all saying "Our address is ______. The treadmill's in our front yard. First one here gets it." If there was a smiley-face icon shooting a starter pistol, I would have tacked that on at the end.

But, you ask, what if 25 fat, cheap, needing-to-exercise-but-not-willing-to-pay-for-it people all showed up at once at our house, all wanting the treadmill? By this point, that was a risk I was willing to take. If they came banging on my door demanding a free treadmill that wasn't there, I'd tell them to go run around the block. Or maybe they'd get in a big fight, all grumpy and chubby and punching each other in gray sweatsuits at 8 in the morning outside our house. Good, they'd burn some calories that way. Or maybe I'd just invite them all in and we'll have a party, except that I'd probably have to supply all the free beer.

I went to bed at 8:30am, and woke up at 3pm… and the treadmill was gone. Noah told me some Mexican woman came by with her husband and a pickup truck, knocked on the door, and when Noah opened it, she they pointed at the treadmill.

"Garbage?" she asked.

"Yeah, whatever. You can have it," said Noah. The woman's eyes lit up, and they promptly threw the treadmill into their truck and took off. After all that, it took this couple probably no more than two minutes to get themselves a nice, free, 1950's treadmill.

I bet they weren't even from Craigslist.

What Happens When I Have Too Much Time On My Hands At Security - 9/1/05
Why is Kolleen dancing on the hood of a Uhaul?

We don't know, but it probably has something to do with vodka. And maybe with playing flip-cup with champagne (pronounced by Scooter as Chom-PAG-nee). The problem was, while she was doing it, I was taking pictures. And a couple days later, I got really bored at security. To find out what happened next, click on the picture to the left.

I'm telling you, bad things happen when I have too much time on my hands.

Last Chicago Post, Promise - 8/30/05
I can't believe I'm still writing about Chicago. Jesus, that was like three weeks ago.

Actually, there's not much more to say on the subject. All in all, a wonderful time was had, thanks to the gracious hosting skills of Charlie, Verde, Winters and Henderson, three of whom will be out here to accept my return-favor this weekend. Also love to BC, Petey and Dan Golden for allowing me to drink their beer/pass out on their floors. Wow, this sounds like a senior yearbook entry.

One last bizarre observance is this broken Nintendo Verde has in his apartment, which they can only get to work by setting a full can of Old Style on the game cartridge, which I guess applies the exact amount of pressure needed to get the heads to line up right and make the game work. Verde made this discovery through a stroke of random luck as he sat frustrated after fussing with the machine for hours. Apparently Old Style is the only kind of beer that works - perhaps it's the weight, or the kind of metal in the can. But I like to think it's the smooth blend of choice hops and rich, premium barley.

I was actually a little hesitant about going back to Chicago after these two years I've been away. After all, last time I was there it was to break up with a girlfriend and visit a school I felt like I had done nothing to earn the honor of in the year since I'd graduated. But that was then, life is now better than ever… and it didn't hurt to visit the Windy City during its funnest time of the year. I've left my Chicago life behind, and there's nothing left for me there now... except for good memories, good friends, and good times.

Oh, and, shout-out to Winters for getting 11/13 points on the Stop or Not a Stop quiz (see his answers - mostly correct - here). His only mistake was that Polk is actually on the blue line. I also fooled myself in the designing of this quiz - forgetting that Sheridan is actually a stop, I thought it would be a good fake one with which to throw all my fellow former Evanstonians, to whom Sheridan is a ubiquitous Chicago term. But turns out it's so ubiquitous that they went ahead and made a stop for it.

Oh, and Winters missed the bonus point, too - there are actually 5 Polaski stops, and only 4 Kedzie stops. That's what happens in a city full of Polish people.

Stop or Not a Stop - 8/29/05
When I was in Chicago, Charlie and I invented a new game to play on the El. If you've ever lived (or currently live) in Chicago, you may find this game interesting. If you've never even been to Chicago, you'll probably find this game irrelevant to your life entirely.

It's called Stop or Not a Stop, and it's very simple. When riding the train, one person looks at the transit map and either A) Selects an obscure stop from one of the lesser known lines (like 35-Bronzeville-ITT on the Green line) or B) Makes up a fake stop that sounds real, like Oak Street (it's actually Oak Park, on the Green and Blue lines). If it's a real stop, you get a bonus point for also naming what line it's on, and if it's a fake stop, you get a bonus point for naming the similar-sounding stop, or similar-sounding Chicago phenomenon (for instance, there's a Lake Michigan and a Michigan Avenue, but no Michigan el stop) your opponent was trying to fool you with.

Let's play. And no peeking at the CTA website.

1) Sheridan
2) King Drive
3) Polk
4) Grant
5) Forrest
6) Harrison

Extra Bonus Point: Are there more stops named Pulaski, or more stops named Kedzie?

Email me your answers -- I'll make up some cool-sounding but meaningless winner-title for whoever gets the most points.

Try Stop or Not a Stop with a friend next time you ride your local train. It's easily adaptable to New York's or Boston's transit systems, or even to L.A.'s, except that no one here ever rides the train. Ever.

Scootskate Eulogy - 8/27/05
Gabe, devout fan of the late Scootskate, requested (in an email titled "NOOOOOOOO!") that I publish a tombstone for our dear departed friend with the following epitaph:

Ashes to ashes, cheaply-assembled plywood to cheaply-assembled plywood.

Death of the Scootskate - 8/25/05
Saturday night Noah, Erin, Jenn and I came back from the bars, our first night out as new roommates. And things got a little crazy.

Some of you might remember the Scootskate, from such tales as how I rescued it from being taken by Indians at my grandma's house, and how I tried to ride it down a huge hill and ended up breaking myself and my cell phone. Well, the Skootskate is no more.

When Jenn moved in, we decided she was going to be the Kolleen-replacement; aka, the calm one. Erin is 22, a recent college grad and former Lacrosse player, with all the party-acumen that derives from that combination of traits. In fact, she informed us in her interview that her nickname was "Crazy" (in the good way). So a perfect replacement for Brian, we thought. On the other hand, Jenn is 25 and works in business, used to be in med school, and self-proclaimedly "doesn't party or drink that much." So we figured maybe she'd be the sane one. Boy, were we wrong.

At 3:30am Saturday night (or Sunday morning, I guess), Jenn had the Scootskate in her hand and was leading our friend Louis outside to ride it with her, bobsled-style, down the cement luge-course that is Paulina Avenue. On his way out, Louis looked at me with horrified eyes.

"Dude, talk me out of this."

Unfortunately for Louis, I was a little past talking anybody out of anything, and instead went outside to watch. The Scootskate gained speed as it rolled down the pavement, Jenn "steering" in the front and Louis "breaking" in the back. But as Scootskates have neither steering nor brakes, before long Jenn and Louis were careening out of control down the middle of empty Paulina, toward the busier Beryl. Louis's face was as white as a black guy's face can be, but Jenn squealed with glee as she leaned capriciously to the left, toward the curb outside of our house, and...

CRUNCH! The Scootskate hit the curb, Louis hit Jenn, and Jenn's crotch hit the front handle, snapping it foward, right off the base of the Scootskate. Now Jenn's jubiliant cry turned sour, as a new yell went up at top volume, echoing through our neighborhood...

"OWWWWWWW! I broke my Cooter-bone!"

Jenn had not, indeed, broken her Cooter-bone, as she called it, but I'm sure there must have been a bruise. The Scootskate certainly was feeling the hurt. Injury-level aside, Jenn continued to wail, even as our neighbor came out to yell at us.

"What's the matter with you!?" vituperated the neighbor. "It's three in the morning!"

"But I broke my Hoo-ha!" retorted Jenn, her incisive rebuttal leaving the neighbor speechless. I don't know what she was in medical school for; she should have been a lawyer.

Erin and I quelled the neighbor as Louis and Noah escorted Jenn back inside to get an icepack. It was at this point that I noticed exactly how fucked the Scootskate was. Not just fucked... proper fucked.

I wandered back inside, one piece of the former Scootskate in each hand. "Wow Jenn," I exclaimed. "You really broke the fuck out of this Skootskate."

"Yeah, well, I really broke the fuck out of my Cooter!" she replied, tieing an icepack to herself like a jock strap.

I unceremoniously threw the Scootskate in the trash. We'd been through a lot together, but no amount of duct tape was going to patch that thing back into riding condition. And even if we could get it together, Jenn would probably just ride it down another hill and contuse some other part of her reproductive system.

My nickname around the house is Peej, Noah's nickname is N! (said by clicking one's tongue against the bottom of one's mouth), Erin's nickname is Crazy... And Saturday, we found a sobriquet we can all agree on for Jenn...

Scooter.

I Killed a Pigeon - 8/24/05
OK, I didn't kill it, but it was my fault it died. It was also the fault of pigeons being the stupidest animals of all time.

Verde, Charlie and I were walking down one of the Wacker Drive sub-streets near Grant Park in Chicago. The sidewalk was basically covered in pigeons - fluttering about, eating things, crapping on whatever they felt like crapping on... basically carrying on like they owned the place. Now, every big city has pigeon problems, but I submit that downtown Chicago pigeons are right up there in annoyance level with Times Square Pigeons.

I don't know whether it was audacity or downright stupidity, but these pigeons on Lower Wacker absolutely refused to get out of the way as we walked down the sidewalk, very near the point of being stepped on. Not that I would feel that bad if I accidentally stepped on a pigeon, but they're fat little fuckers and I could sprain an ankle, and we were on our way to play drunken frisbee. So I decided to give the pigeons a little scare -- you know, show 'em who's boss, show 'em whose garbage they are sustaining their disease-ridden lives with.

So I made a dash for one of the chubby, lazy pigeons that had insisted on walking two inches ahead of my front foot for the last half a block. I wanted to kick it -- not a hard kick, just a little nudge with the foot to send it down the road and remind it that humans still ruled. The pigeon freaked. Not used to being chased, the bird suddenly forgot how to fly, and fell into a gap between the sidewalk and one of the tunnel walls. But the gap was only six inches deep, so after a moment the panicked pigeon squirmed its way out, saw me, freaked out again, remembered how to fly, then fluttered smack into the wall, falling back down into the gap again.

By this time I had stopped chasing it, staring instead with a mix of amusement and awe at just how dumb this pigeon was. But the damage was done -- by this time the bird was whipped into such a state of fight that it wriggled out of the gap again, whirled in two circles, then fluttered at a low height out into traffic and WHAM! Got hit by a minivan.

I don't know if the minivan was speeding or anything, but the pigeon was lunch meat. Feathers flew, the pigeon fluttered a few last times, then died right there on the street. Verde, Charlie and I were shocked, but decided quickly to not look at it and move on. There was nothing we could do.

"Wow," said Charlie. "I feel kinda bad." Verde agreed. I thought it over as well, and after a moment of somber consideration, I came to a disturbing conclusion: I didn't feel bad at all.

Not a bit. I had just caused the death of a living creature, and I felt no remorse, no pang of compunction, nothing. I wasn't happy it had died or anything -- I just didn't care. At all. Ironically, that was the only thing that made me feel bad: that something had just died because of me, and apparently I was too much of a soul-less monster to even feel guilty about it.

I confided this to Sean and Charlie, and after a few minutes they had helped me justify my sentiments. First of all, it wasn't a living thing -- it was a pigeon. A flying rat, a disease with wings. Does anybody like pigeons? No. Everyone hates them, and everyone at one point or another has thought about kicking one or feeding it Alka-Seltzer until its stomach fills with gas and it explodes.

Second of all, the bird kind of had it coming. If it hadn't been trying to get stepped on for the previous half a block, or if it hadn't have gotten so fat and lazy from eating our garbage in the first place, it never would have pissed me off. I'm not saying my actions were in self-defense or anything, but I think the lack of intent to kill plus the continued provocation would have lessened my charge to Pigeonslaughter 1, max.

And finally, what kind of self-preserving animal responds to being lightly chased by flying directly into oncoming traffic? I wasn't trying to step on it, and then I even stopped chasing, and yet the pigeon reacts by flying right at probably the only thing around that could have killed it? That's like a gazelle, being chased by a lone hyena, jumping headlong into a volcano. Honestly, Darwinism should have weeded out that pigeon a long time ago. Maybe all pigeons. That's the price of advanced society, I guess -- we force the survival of things that are way too stupid to be alive. I feel the same way about dumb kids who put their heads out bus windows and get decapitated by stop signs.

Wow, I guess maybe I am a soul-less monster. But at least I didn't feed any birds Alka-Seltzer.

Recap - 8/23/05
OK, I've been waiting for pictures of some of this, but I guess they're not going to be available. To hell with it - here's a brief recap of things that have occured since my return to LA two weeks ago:

- We got new roommates! Noah's and my long and arduous search to find replacements for Kolleen and Brian (moving for the reasons of being closer to school, and being closer to wife, respectively) ended with the discovery of new roommates Jenn and Erin, completing the co-ed cast for Paulina 3. You'll be hearing lots more about them soon. Lots.

- Beer Olympics. Yeah, just what it sounds like. Lots of fun; also, the reason I'm going to stop drinking on Sundays for a while.

- Stripfest '05! What happens when you put 150 twenty-somethings in a house, dressed as strippers, and give them alcohol and pay them to make out with each other? Lots of things, most of which can't be reprinted on this website. I was really hoping to have pictures of this, but I think the FCC would keep me from posting most of the good ones, anyway.

- Our new roommate BBQ. Apparently, I've become some kind of craigslist whore - no less than 6 people I met through the roommate search randomly showed up, a few of them eventually connecting up to live together. God bless friendly people.

I promise, it hasn't just been a beer party since I got back. There's been writing, and working, and other stuff in there too, but who wants to hear about that?

Speaking of bullet lists, here's a couple more song-lyric bullet lists, courtesy of Henderson and Liz back in Chicago:

• Things we didn't do:
  • Start the fire
  • It's been burning since the world was turning
    • Light it
• Things we did do:
  • Try to fight it
• People/Events of Historical Significance in 1949:
  • Harry Truman
  • Doris Day
  • Red China
  • Johnny Ray
  • South Pacific
  • Walter Winchell
  • Joe DiMaggio
• People/Events of Historical Significance in 1950:
  • Joe McCarthy
  • Richard Nixon
  • Studebaker
  • Television
  • North Korea/South Korea
  • Marilyn Monroe
• And so on...
• Things I can't do:
  • TAKE IT ANYMORE!

Two more:

Go U Northwestern

Shoop

I Almost Saw a Guy Get Stabbed - 8/22/05
On our second night in Chicago, we were walking toward our third bar of the evening when we found that the street we were on had been blocked off by several police cars, a few fire trucks, and an ambulance.

I tapped a bystander and asked him what had happened.

"Some kind of gang thing, I think -- six guys got in a fight with three guys," he said. "The six guys won."

Satisfied with my answer from Captain Obvious, I turned to his tattooed friend to ask why one of the fire fighters was spraying down the street with water.

"One of the guys got stabbed," replied Captain Tattoo. "They're spraying off all the blood."

Teaser/Chicago Post 1 - 8/19/05
At this point, I've gotten so far behind on my posting that the 20-day back-log hasn't even caught up to the weekend I spent in Chicago two weeks ago. In the meantime, interesting stuff has been happening in LA… so over the next few days I'll be alternating between posts from Chicago and what's been going on here, including such developments as StripFest '05 and the new roommate situation. I'll be jumping back and forth, between now and then, past and present, like a kid with a time machine. Or a back-logged website.

Chicago
JURY: Where are we gonna go for breakfast? What's around here?
VERDE: Um... there's an Einstein's... and an Einstein's...
JURY: Is there an Einsteins'?
VERDE: I think so.

Whenever Verde and I hang out, mishaps usually follow. Actually, mishaps usually just follow Verde anyway, whether I'm there or not. During weekend in Chicago this time, whoever, mishaps were kept to a minimum... at least compared to stuff like Verde taking his phone into the ocean, drinking 40's with me on our roof at 8am on a Monday morning, and narrowly avoiding a gay male orgy (the story I didn't post during his last trip to LA. OK, we did cause the death of a pigeon and almost saw a guy get stabbed, but that's really small potatoes if you know Verde.

Also contributing to the mitigated mishaps was the fact that I spent half the weekend with my best friend from high school, Charlie, with whom mishaps are usually limited to drunken canoeing and broken collarbone accidents. Together with Verde, the three of us went romping around Grant Park, bar-hopping and causing mischief and throwing frisbees into Lake Shore Drive traffic. Verde and I also woke up on the cement embankment about ten feet from Lake Michigan on Friday at 5am, before Verde was supposed to be going to work... which he promptly did not do.

I guess some minor mishaps did occurr, after all.

Song Lyric Bullet Lists 2 - 8/17/05
This one is also great:

• The problem:
  • too much technology

• Machines:
  • save our lives
  • dehumanize

• I am:
  • just a man
  • the modern man
  • Kilroy!

• I am not:
  • a robot without emotions
  • what you see
  • a hero
  • a saviour

• I've got:
  • a secret
  • a human heart
  • boiling blood
  • a brain IBM

• I need:
  • someone
  • somewhere to hide
  • control

• I want:
  • to thank you [Mr. Roboto]

And obviously this:

• Things I'm too sexy for:
  • Love
  • My shirt
  • Milan
  • New York
  • Japan
  • Your party
  • My car
  • My hat
  • My cat
  • This song

And here's one from my roommate Brian:

• Things I wanna do
  • Li Li Li Lick you from your head to your toes
  • Move from the bed down to the down to the to the flo'
  • Ahh Ahh
    • you make it so good I dont wanna leave

• Places I wanna get you
  • The Georgia Dome on the fifty yard line
  • The bath tub with the candles lit
  • The back seat windows up

• Places we can do it if you like it in the club
  • DJ Booth
  • In the back of the VIP

• When we can do it in a runnin train
  • When its hot out
  • When its cold out

• Things you can do to me
  • Scratch my back
  • Rule me
  • Push me
  • Pull me

This might be my favorite one:

• places in which one is insane:
  • the membrane
  • the brain

• don't:
  • try it
  • make me wreck shit hectic

• (things which go) in the frying pan:
  • that ham
  • spam

• I:
  • feel:
    • like the son of sam
  • don't:
    • fuck with the big 4-0
  • am:
    • thinking
    • out in the nine duce 'cad
    • the pirate pilot
  • will:
    • jack your ass like a looter in a riot
    • explain
    • hit that bong and break ya off some
  • gotta:
    • maintain
    • get my props

And finally:

• Qualities of fish heads:
  • Roly
  • Poly
  • Yum

There are a million more of these as this website, but I'm to busy being in love with them to reprint them all for you.

Song Lyrics as Bullet Lists - 8/15/05
This is my new favorite thing, ever.

On the web right now people have started doing this thing where you take the lyrics to popular songs and pare them down into lists of bullet items. For example:

• to do
  • crack that whip
  • give the past a slip
  • try to detect it
    • not too late

• conditions under which you will break your momma's back:
  • stepping on a crack

• conditions under which you must whip it:
  • when a problem comes along
  • before the cream sits out too long
  • when something's going wrong
  • when a good time turns around

• directions in which to go:
  • straight
  • forward
  • ahead

• if one does not whip it:
  • won't ever live it down
  • won't get their way

• ways in which to whip it:
  • (up) into shape
  • good

Can you guess what song this is?

Or:

• Istanbul:
  • not Constantinople
  • a Turkish delight on a moonlit night

• Every girl in Istanbul:
  • lives in Istanbul
  • does not live in Constantinople

• Old New York:
  • once New Amsterdam
  • unsure why it was changed -> popular?

• Constantinople:
  • long time gone
  • got the works

This works especially well with Queen songs:

• Things which, buddy, you are:
  • a boy
    • make a big noise
  • a young man
  • hard man
  • an old man
  • poor man
    • pleading with your eyes

• Activities you are performing:
  • in the street:
    • playing
    • shouting
  • all over the place:
    • kicking your can
    • waving your banner

• Things which you, being a big disgrace, have got on your face:
  • mud
  • blood

• Things which you will someday do:
  • be a big man
  • take on the world
  • make you some peace

• Places back into which somebody better put you:
  • yours

• Things which we will rock:
  • you

So naturally I had to try my own. And of course I had to do it my favorite song ever:

• Oh my God, Becky, she looks like:
  • One of those rap guy's girlfriends (but who understand those rap guys?)
  • A total prostitute

• Things I like:
  • Big butts (and I cannot lie)

• Ways I like 'em:
  • Round
  • Big

• Ways I want 'em:
  • Real thick
  • Juicy

• Things you noticed:
  • That butt was stuffed

• Things I wanna do:
  • Get wich'ya
  • Take your picture
  • Get you home
    • Uh!
    • Double up: Uh! Uh!
  • Unnng… ('til the break of dawn)

• Things she is:
  • Sweat
  • Wet
  • Got it goin' like a turbo vet
  • Gotta pack much back

• Things them punks like to do:
  • Hit it
  • Quit it

• Things I'd rather do:
  • Stay
  • Play

• Because I'm:
  • Long
  • Strong
  • Down to get the friction on

• Actions performed by your girlfriend
  • Rolls a Honda
  • Plays workout tapes by Fonda

• Actions performed by some knucklehead:
  • Tried to dis
  • Had game
  • But chose to hit 'em (so I pull up quick to get wit' 'em)

• Cosmo (and other magazines of which I am tired)
  • Says you're fat
  • Are sayin' flat butts are the thang
  • Ain't got nothin' to do with my selection (when it comes to females)

I'm so in love with this.

If you make your own song-lyric-bullet-list and send it to me, I'll post it on Paul's Pond. Unless it sucks ass, of course. But really, this thing is so awesome, how could it possibly suck ass?

A Few Pictures From the Cabin - 8/15/05
Stop two on my recent July/August vacation was my family's lake cabin in northern Minnesota. It was, as always, an incredibly relaxing trip, filled with swimming, napping, bonfires, violent Royal Rummy, and Run-Skip-and-Go-Nakeds. If you've been to the cabin before, you know what these last two items mean. If not... it takes too long to explain.

Anyway, some pictures:

	Cabin Crew 2005 (from left): Eric, Elizabeth, Jeff, Ilana, me, Sarah, Sadie the dog, Sean the human
	Look at this messed up fire.
	Sean's first Christian Rock album cover.
	One motif of the weekend was that we went around Eiffel-Towering everybody. Or all the girls, at least. If you know what Eiffel-Towering is, good for you. If you don't... it's probably better that way.
	Sunset... we had one like this every night. Also, it's too bad Sean and Ilana aren't dating - if they ever got married, this would completely be their invitation picture.
	I swear, it's like a goddamn Hallmark card up there.

It all really made me appreciate Minnesota again. And old friends. And sunsets - Sam and I once wrote a screenplay where this island culture has a party at every sunset... now I remember where we got the idea.

One More Picture - 8/13/05
One last picture from my little mini-road trip to Idaho:

Speaking of cars… - 8/11/05
This past weekend's roadtrip, covering a total of 2,000 miles, represented the first significant voyage of my 5-month-old Honda Civic. All in all, it held up pretty well, except for this thing it does where it won't let you pull the key out of the ignition from time to time. I also rued its lack of cruise control, but that's what happens when you buy a stripped-down new Civic for 13,000 bucks.

There were times, however, when I would have loved a little more punch on those mountain roads, especially after driving the Pacifica my brother rented. What's interesting about this is that, when I was test driving the Civic, its lack of zest was not acknowledged by the salesman. Quite the opposite, in fact.

We were approaching a deserted curve around one of Torrance's many oil refineries.

"Go ahead," the salesman said. "Open it up."

I did. I hit the gas, and inched the car up to around sixty as I arced around the curve, feeling the centripetal force gently pulling me against my seatbelt. It was about 5% exhilarating, if only due to the threat of flipping off the road into one of the nearby gigantic oil bins, causing an explosion that would wipe half the South Bay out of the Thomas Guide.

"Feel that?" said the salesman.

"I guess so," I admitted, thinking this little curve would be a good place for Torrance Police to set up a speed trap."

"Of course you do," said the salesman. "It's a Honda."

Let's be honest here. Honda makes solid, reliable cars. They're cheap and fuel-efficient, and if you soup up an Accord enough, perhaps even borderline stylish. But Hondas are not high-performance racecars. 60 on an open curve? Well, my speedometer only goes up to about 110, so let's hope I never need to make a run from the law. That's like "Go ahead, check out that sweet gas mileage. Eleven miles to the gallon, baby. That's right. It's a Hummer."

I tried to think of several other perfect and hilarious analogies to this in other markets, and, failing, I came up with a few close and mildly-amusing ones:

DINING: Quality food, huh? Of course it is; it's from White Castle.

CLOTHING: You like this shirt? Of course you do, it's from K-mart.

INTERNATIONAL STRIFE: Peaceful day, isn't it? Of course it is; it's the Middle East.

You get the idea.

Last Idaho Post - 8/10/05
So next to Rupert is a town called Paul, the reason behind the following sign, which simultaneously makes me laugh and feel very, very uncomfortable.

Naturally, I wanted to get a shirt from Paul, just as my brother wanted to get a shirt from the city next door for his friend Rupert. I guess our hope was that Rupert and I could hang out wearing our shirts and be the biggest retards ever. So on our last morning in town, we headed to downtown Rupert, since it's five times bigger than Paul, in hopes of finding a store.

An hour wild-goose-chase lead us from the Tots 'N Teens store to King's Variety Store to a store simply called Book Store, and finally to Ally's Furniture, which was right next to Tots 'N Teens. Nobody seemed to have any shirts, and nobody seemed to be able to figure out why we wanted them so bad. Nobody could even seem to grasp the fact that we were in Rupert but didn't live there.

ME: Hey, we're not from around here, we were wondering if you knew where we could find shirts that say 'Rupert' on them.
GUY: Hm, maybe the Chamber of Commerce. You know where that is?
ME: No… we're not from around here.
GUY: Oh. Well you know where City Hall is?
ME: No…
GUY: It's right where Sweeney's used to be.
ME: Um…
MARK: Wait, wouldn't the Chamber of Commerce be closed on Sunday?
GUY: Oh, yeah. See, you know this town!

The truth: Rupert is actually so small that it doesn't even have tourism. Have you ever heard of anything so sad? And so we departed, empty-handed, but full-stomached from a breakfast of Perkins' Tremendous Twelve. POINTLESS TANGENT: how did they decide on exactly twelve pancakes, anyway? That's more than most people can eat, but not so many that it becomes like a challenge. Is it because of the alliteration? In that case, a little thesaurus work could have just as easily yielded the Enormous Eight, the Fantastic Fourteen, or the Superlative Sixty-Seven. END POINTLESS TANGENT.

We loaded up the car to head back to Salt Lake City; my brother had rented a fully-loaded Chrysler Pacifica, but sadly we had to take my fully-stripped-down Honda Civic and leave the nice car for my parents. At least we didn't have to take the Humvee my aunt had rented.

Not Another Idaho Trip Post - 8/9/05
Oh, yeah, and there was a wedding at some point in all of this. Good service. Great music. People cried. The minister compared marriage to beans, saying that if you don't want it to get bland, you have to keep adding more salsa (love). And if this is your fifth or sixth taco, you probably already have gas. It's OK - it was his first service in English.

So congratulations to my cousin Brennan and his awesome wife Michael (yes, that's her name; don't make fun of it, just the way I didn't make fun of Rupert). I kid, but I'm super happy for them, and grateful that I got to be a part of such a love-filled, magical event.

Idaho Trip part 5 - Don't Make Fun of Rupert - 8/8/05
I'm back from vacation now, but I'm going to continue to post post-emptively for a while until I get caught up. Three weeks of rural weddings, lake cabins and Chicago bars provide a lot more stories than they do consistent internet access.

My cousin is from St. Paul, Minnesota (population: 287,151; closest airport: 12 miles). He now lives in Seattle (population: 573,000; closest airport: in the city), where he met and now lives in a house with his fiancée. Where she's from: Rupert, Idaho. Population: 5,645; nearest airport: 180 miles, in another state). Which of these three places would you pick to have your wedding?

I guess if the bride's family is paying for everything and they live in Rupert, then Rupert it is. Ironically, as my parents and I walked up to one of the town's 3 downtown restaurants to have the groom's dinner (actually it was a tavern with a room in the back for us to have caterers come into town and set up a dining room), my cousin Kate came out to meet us and informed us of the one rule for the wedding: "Don't make fun of Rupert." I guess the family was sensitive about it. So much for all my groom's dinner conversation material.

Abiding by this rule, and since I grew up appreciating all the bucolic small towns near our cabin in northern Minnesota, I will continue to not make fun of Rupert. I will, however, make fun of its website.

When your town only has five-thousand people in it, your website really has to reach for things to boast about. In fact many small towns just leave it alone and don't have a website at all. Which is probably a good idea - when your biggest triumph is being thirty miles from a ski-resort, your internet-presence budget tends to be low. The result can be disastrous, as Rupert's website illustrates. Containing some of the following gems, www.rupert-idaho.com is truly a site to behold.

From the "Location" page: "Nestled in the green valleys of the southeast part of Magic Valley, the City of Rupert is located just three miles north off Interstate Highway 84, between Twin Falls and Pocatello…"

…two other towns you've never heard of. Also, when your town is located not on, but merely near, an Interstate, you're probably in trouble.

Also from the "Location" page: Rupert's location in southern Idaho makes it an ideal hub for all things that need to travel… Communications, Transportaion, Travel and Tourism, just to name a few. Centralized in the middle of Boise, Salt Lake City, Denver, and all points beyond, makes Rupert a crossroads and hub of transportation of goods.

Tourism needs to travel? Travel needs to travel? Apparently the spelling of Transportaion is doing OK right where it is, though. Also, it's a good thing Rupert is centralized in the middle of two cities that aren't even in Idaho, as well as all points beyond, or I don't know how I would have found it. As it was, it was an easy matter to simply drive to the middle of everywhere.

From the "Events" page: With numerous events and activities, (cultural, entertaining, and legislative), going on all year round.

Now I'm no SAT teacher, but I don't think this is a complete sentence. There are also some modifier agreement issues. As captivating as the "numerous legislative activities" undoubtedly are, perhaps some grammar events are in order to make literate people less wary about coming here.

From the "Community" page: The City of Rupert, Idaho is a wonderful and close community.
A multi-cultural diversity brings a feeling of belonging for all of our residents. Many different religious institutions, civic organizations and cultural activities create the cultural tapestry that blends and binds this community together. Our community offers an exceptional educational system with all the amenities needed for our children to complete a well-rounded and informed schoolastic career. The true feeling of what America and Freedom means abounds within Rupert for all to enjoy.

If only their childrens' schoolastic careers were as well-rounded as their use of bold italics.

From the "City Info" page: Rupert has a quilting shop, antique and craft stores, drug store, two grocery stores, two new and used car dealers, shoe store, barber shop, children's clothing store, two other clothing stores, florist, two pizza stores, Chinese restaurant, Hispanic and another bakeries, several other eating establishments, two elementary schools, junior high school, high school, post office, courthouse, library and museum.

And they're all on the same block.

There are several lawyers, doctors, dentists and optometrists.

All of whom are ashamed of this website.

Rupert's main industry is farming.

Duh.

Rupert is just a few miles from two nice golf courses and is less that fifteen miles from the Minidoka National Wildlife Refuge, Minidoka Dam and Lake Walcott and Walcott Park. Pomerelle Ski Resort, with twenty-two ski runs, is only 30 miles away.

The nearest crappy golf course is only one miles away... and the nearest meth labs' only twelve feet.

I'm not a website snob. The internet is a place where all sites, big and small, should be able to express their messages and promote their products or tiny towns. But this one looks like it was designed by a third-grader at one of the two elementary schools.

OK, I guess I made fun of Rupert, after all. Sorry, Kate.

Idaho Trip part 4 - Craters and Atomic Power - 8/6/05
Our last stop before Rupert was Craters of the Moon national monument, where I'd been once before, the morning I woke up on the moon and then 115 miles-per-hour across Idaho in a fake Ford Taurus. Before we got there, however, we passed the tiny town of Arco, historically known as the first city to be completely powered by a nuclear plant, sometime in the 1950's. As our guidebook glibly put it, "Arco was the first city in the world to be lit up by atomic power… Hiroshima and Nagasaki excepted."

Craters of the Moon was awesome this time, too. Since I didn't have to tear ass across the state to get to Yakima by the afternoon, we were able to explore a little deeper. The volcanic rock garden trails were invigorating, except for the sententious signs posted every fifty feet sermonizing at us to stay on the path and off the untouched rock formations. Look, it's jagged-ass lava rock, and I'm on a nice smooth path -- I have no interest in walking on it, so leave me alone.

And yes, that's my dad, surveying the one pine tree that's able to grow in a giant gully of pure ash.

Idaho Trip part 3 - Lava Hot Springs - 8/4/05
After Golden Spike the parents and I headed across the Utah/Idaho border, but not before a fork in the road left us with a decision about whether or not we wanted to drive to a protected bird sanctuary that lies near Ogden. We had paused at the entry to debate the extra hour drive when we'd slept about 8 hours between the 3 of us, when a huge bird, on its own accord, flew right into the windshield of the Civic, leaving a little chip and a nice bird smear across the window.

"What do we need to go into the bird sanctuary for?" my dad asked. "The birds come right to you."

So we crossed into Idaho, and spent the night at a Bed and Breakfast in Lava Hot Springs. Lava Hot Springs' claim to fame is that it's one of the only natural hot springs in America that isn't caused by sulfer deposits, thus it has a normal smell instead of the usual rotten egg-fart smell. The B & B we stayed at reminded me an awful lot of an old 1920's sanatorium, until I found out that it was an old 1920's sanatorium.

We stayed up late drinking beer, and reminiscing about old family stories in the non-egg-fart springs, and contracting tuberculosis.

Idaho Trip part 2 - Golden Spike - 8/3/05
I woke up this morning at a rest stop in western-central Nevada (I don't think there even are any day-care centers in central Nevada). Sadly, I didn't quite make it to Battle Mountain - I didn't have the energy to drive the extra half-hour AND battle Skeletor and Trapjaw.

I picked up the parents in Salt Lake City and headed north, to the Golden Spike historic site. For those who aren't familiar, Golden Spike is where the last rail spike was driven in 1869 to complete the Transcontinental Railroad, thus joining the country by a transportation mode other than covered wagon and people dying of cholera (that's for you, Sam). The site is comic in some ways, for example how the two railroad companies, Union Pacific and Central Pacific, actually graded track 250 miles past each other in opposite direction before they realized their mistake.

The site is also eye-opening. Many people know, for instance, that Chinese migrant workers did a lion's share of the work in dynamiting, rail-laying and hammering to make the transcontinental railroad possible. Some of them even lost their lives constructing this engineering marvel to unite a country that wasn't theirs. Yet when it came time to take the picture of the railroad's completion, all the Chinese were pushed aside in favor of the white workers and bosses, many of whom hadn't even lifted a hammer on the project.

The only consolation is that this very fact is pointed out in detail at the historic site. Just as it is with the plight of the Native Americans, it's getting harder to learn the story of America's growth and triumph without learning the stories of those who were abused along the way.

My New Favorite Gemstone - 9/30/05
Also, in my extensive gem research, I discovered that there's a precious stone called Beer Quartz.

Mmm... Beer Quartz.