What Became The Dog Post...
We stayed 4 very relaxing days with my girlfriend at her parent’s house in Castro Valley. It is located a few miles east of Oakland and is considerably less “urban”. It is a nice place and her mom spoiled the shit out of us with gourmet meals and actual beds to sleep in.
(Thursday March 8)
After a very long and very scary night of driving we took full advantage of the fine accommodations (I got to stay in her room, Spencer was forced to stay in the cats’ room*) and slept away the majority of the day. We finally got up around one and then spent the rest of our day in a dirty fly-infested Quizno’s trying to get this website site up and running for our hordes of fans…you’re welcome (read in a condescending voice).
The rest of the night was pretty chill. The main activity for the night was a short hike up to this view point overlooking the Bay area. At the top of the hill was a memorial to children who died violent deaths, sort of a buzz kill but it was a cool view. The only other interesting thing about the hike was there were about 500 stupid fucking dogs running around. This will definitely come up again in my posts so I will go ahead and explain it now, I hate dogs. I know everyone loves dogs and they are so great. But I don’t like them. I don’t think they are funny or cute or of any use at all. They cost a fuck load of money, ruin your shit, and in my experience they are all around assholes. Also, I don’t really think your dog really cares about you. The only reason your dog pretends to give a shit about you is that you are its only known source of food and living at your place is a lot better than the street. I would like to see how much your beloved companion cares about you if you stop feeding it for a few weeks. I think it is pretty retarded that people find the need to buy these complete free loaders to get some form of companionship. If I ever get to the point were I need to have a dog as a friend/crutch I am going to just go ahead and shoot myself**. I immediately regret that strange violent dog rant. Oh yeah, after the hike we had dinner.
(Thursday March 8)
After a very long and very scary night of driving we took full advantage of the fine accommodations (I got to stay in her room, Spencer was forced to stay in the cats’ room*) and slept away the majority of the day. We finally got up around one and then spent the rest of our day in a dirty fly-infested Quizno’s trying to get this website site up and running for our hordes of fans…you’re welcome (read in a condescending voice).
The rest of the night was pretty chill. The main activity for the night was a short hike up to this view point overlooking the Bay area. At the top of the hill was a memorial to children who died violent deaths, sort of a buzz kill but it was a cool view. The only other interesting thing about the hike was there were about 500 stupid fucking dogs running around. This will definitely come up again in my posts so I will go ahead and explain it now, I hate dogs. I know everyone loves dogs and they are so great. But I don’t like them. I don’t think they are funny or cute or of any use at all. They cost a fuck load of money, ruin your shit, and in my experience they are all around assholes. Also, I don’t really think your dog really cares about you. The only reason your dog pretends to give a shit about you is that you are its only known source of food and living at your place is a lot better than the street. I would like to see how much your beloved companion cares about you if you stop feeding it for a few weeks. I think it is pretty retarded that people find the need to buy these complete free loaders to get some form of companionship. If I ever get to the point were I need to have a dog as a friend/crutch I am going to just go ahead and shoot myself**. I immediately regret that strange violent dog rant. Oh yeah, after the hike we had dinner.
(Friday, March 9)
The next morning my girlfriend called in sick to work and we all headed into San Francisco to check out Golden Gate Park. We weren’t expecting much and we were pleasantly surprised by the incredibly large and beautiful park. Also it was completely filled with homeless people. There was one open area where a ton of hobos had created an enormous drum circle. Not being able to resist the mind-bending beats coming from the circle, we immediately headed over to check it out. Once we got close, however, we noticed something much better than a stupid ol’ drum circle. If you guessed bum fight, you were correct. From what I can tell (I didn’t get all the facts) it appears a rather surly little hobo attempted to steal a small stash of pop cans from a larger dirtier hobo’s shopping cart. As I am sure you are aware, this is very taboo in the bum community and did not go unpunished. He was verbally and physically accosted by the larger hobo amid a chorus of taunts from the rest of the normally subdued members of the drum circle. It is kind of sad that after one poor decision this little hobo has earned himself a permanent black eye in the bum community and now,, officially,, fits in nowhere. After the excitement of the bum fight we agreed to end our park experience on a high note and headed back home.
That night we decided we would all go out to a club in Walnut Creek for my girlfriend’s cousin’s birthday. The club was pretty lame and we only drank old drinks that people left on the table in an attempt to stick with our roadtrippers budget***. After the club we went to my girlfriend’s sister’s place where the night ended in the usual fashion of everyone going to bed while Spencer sat alone drinking all the free beer and watching the end of Clerk’s 2.
(Saturday, March 10)
We spent the day at Pacifica, a little beach town outside of San Francisco. After hanging out there most of the day we checked out a few more sites (I drove around aimlessly looking for the very elusive Golden Gate Bridge while Spencer and my girlfriend slept). After that we headed home where I spent the rest of the night watching a movie with my girlfriend. While I was being a completely lame road tripper, Spencer went downtown to hang out with our buddy Tristan.
In an attempt to catch another coveted bum fight, I rode the BART (the Bay Area’s outdated two-rail version of Seattle’s soon-to-be-revolutionary monorail (the only difference being that the BART currently runs longer than 3 blocks)) to Tristan’s place. For those of you who don’t know Tristan, he is our fraternity brother who has recently traded in his former position of resident hole-puncher/table-fighter at Delta Chi for his new position of financial analyst/slave to the man. He lives in an upscale apartment complex with his girlfriend Katie, alongside people with “real jobs” and “futures”****. Immediately following the grand tour of his building, which features a rock climbing wall and numerous expensive paintings, I helped myself to a few complimentary shots of vodka and a delicious concoction of long island ice tea mix with some sort of juice. Halfway through my drink, Katie’s friend showed up with the guy she’s fucking and we got ready to hit the clubs. After two days of being the third wheel with Corey and his girlfriend, it was a nice change to be the fifth wheel of the group. We ended up going to Club NV (pronounced like envy but hipper) at the insistence of Katie’s friend. Despite the immense gap between our income levels (she is the personal assistant to Steve Jobs, and I was recently fired from being the personal assistant to Ron Morgan, Mediator/Disbarred Attorney) she did not offer to pay the outrageous $20 cover for me. Not having all my wits about me, I made the huge error of ignoring my budget for the night because I had a feeling that this could be the first non-miserable club experience I’ve ever had…I was wrong. The only memorable event was Tristan shattering the overpriced drink in my hand, due to his inability to control the power of his cheersing. Fortunately the girls weren’t enjoying the ratio of smelly Indian dudes to us and we were able to leave after about an hour. Some other moderately funny things happened but I feel the night could be best summed up with this picture:
The next morning my girlfriend called in sick to work and we all headed into San Francisco to check out Golden Gate Park. We weren’t expecting much and we were pleasantly surprised by the incredibly large and beautiful park. Also it was completely filled with homeless people. There was one open area where a ton of hobos had created an enormous drum circle. Not being able to resist the mind-bending beats coming from the circle, we immediately headed over to check it out. Once we got close, however, we noticed something much better than a stupid ol’ drum circle. If you guessed bum fight, you were correct. From what I can tell (I didn’t get all the facts) it appears a rather surly little hobo attempted to steal a small stash of pop cans from a larger dirtier hobo’s shopping cart. As I am sure you are aware, this is very taboo in the bum community and did not go unpunished. He was verbally and physically accosted by the larger hobo amid a chorus of taunts from the rest of the normally subdued members of the drum circle. It is kind of sad that after one poor decision this little hobo has earned himself a permanent black eye in the bum community and now,, officially,, fits in nowhere. After the excitement of the bum fight we agreed to end our park experience on a high note and headed back home.
That night we decided we would all go out to a club in Walnut Creek for my girlfriend’s cousin’s birthday. The club was pretty lame and we only drank old drinks that people left on the table in an attempt to stick with our roadtrippers budget***. After the club we went to my girlfriend’s sister’s place where the night ended in the usual fashion of everyone going to bed while Spencer sat alone drinking all the free beer and watching the end of Clerk’s 2.
(Saturday, March 10)
We spent the day at Pacifica, a little beach town outside of San Francisco. After hanging out there most of the day we checked out a few more sites (I drove around aimlessly looking for the very elusive Golden Gate Bridge while Spencer and my girlfriend slept). After that we headed home where I spent the rest of the night watching a movie with my girlfriend. While I was being a completely lame road tripper, Spencer went downtown to hang out with our buddy Tristan.
In an attempt to catch another coveted bum fight, I rode the BART (the Bay Area’s outdated two-rail version of Seattle’s soon-to-be-revolutionary monorail (the only difference being that the BART currently runs longer than 3 blocks)) to Tristan’s place. For those of you who don’t know Tristan, he is our fraternity brother who has recently traded in his former position of resident hole-puncher/table-fighter at Delta Chi for his new position of financial analyst/slave to the man. He lives in an upscale apartment complex with his girlfriend Katie, alongside people with “real jobs” and “futures”****. Immediately following the grand tour of his building, which features a rock climbing wall and numerous expensive paintings, I helped myself to a few complimentary shots of vodka and a delicious concoction of long island ice tea mix with some sort of juice. Halfway through my drink, Katie’s friend showed up with the guy she’s fucking and we got ready to hit the clubs. After two days of being the third wheel with Corey and his girlfriend, it was a nice change to be the fifth wheel of the group. We ended up going to Club NV (pronounced like envy but hipper) at the insistence of Katie’s friend. Despite the immense gap between our income levels (she is the personal assistant to Steve Jobs, and I was recently fired from being the personal assistant to Ron Morgan, Mediator/Disbarred Attorney) she did not offer to pay the outrageous $20 cover for me. Not having all my wits about me, I made the huge error of ignoring my budget for the night because I had a feeling that this could be the first non-miserable club experience I’ve ever had…I was wrong. The only memorable event was Tristan shattering the overpriced drink in my hand, due to his inability to control the power of his cheersing. Fortunately the girls weren’t enjoying the ratio of smelly Indian dudes to us and we were able to leave after about an hour. Some other moderately funny things happened but I feel the night could be best summed up with this picture:
(Sunday, March 11)
The majority of the day was spent preparing for the big family going away dinner for Spencer. No one really seemed to care that much that I was leaving. All the loveable members and future members of her family showed up, including me, Spencer, girlfriend, mom and dad, sister and Little Tony, and cousin. It was a fantastic meal of Tri-Tip, garlic red potatos, salad, mud pie ice cream cake, and Mochi Balls******. We were also treated to some of the finest dinner conversation I have ever been privy too. Here are a few of the key topics of conversation:
-How niggers are only niggers when they act like niggers
-Explanation of a “donkey show” and her cousins’ experience in the army with a “monkey show”
-The unveiling of the families’ secret nickname, Lil Tony, for sister’s fiancé.
-Several examples of how gay regular Tony is.
-Girlfriend’s mom on roadtrippin- “That’s ok Spencer you should enjoy life when you are young, you just have to get your life together by the time you are 24”….I just turned 24.
-Cousin’s constant use of the terms “fuck”, “blunt”, and “mangina”. In such memorable sentences as “At the fucking wedding I’ll be smoking a big fat fucking blunt right in the aisle.” or “If someone threw my fucking baby I would take out my mangina and slap them right across the fucking face”.
The excitement of the meal was soon replaced with some of the most intense boredom I have ever experienced. Upon my good friend Josh’s recommendation we decided to watch the “Science of Sleep”******, which true to its name put everyone to sleep almost instantly.
The next morning we packed up the car and hit the road for what would prove to be quite a wild adventure in the Redwoods.
*The cats sleep outside.
**Spencer’s note: I do not share this view and am feeling a little uncomfortable about continuing on this journey with Corey, the dog-hating maniac.
***Three dollars a day or whatever you can panhandle/find in dumpster/donate blood for.
****Also known as squares.
*****Delicious balls of ice cream covered in the perfect compliment of raw dough and flour. May taste like a ball of rotten mangoes covered in human skin to the less refined.
******Terrible
The majority of the day was spent preparing for the big family going away dinner for Spencer. No one really seemed to care that much that I was leaving. All the loveable members and future members of her family showed up, including me, Spencer, girlfriend, mom and dad, sister and Little Tony, and cousin. It was a fantastic meal of Tri-Tip, garlic red potatos, salad, mud pie ice cream cake, and Mochi Balls******. We were also treated to some of the finest dinner conversation I have ever been privy too. Here are a few of the key topics of conversation:
-How niggers are only niggers when they act like niggers
-Explanation of a “donkey show” and her cousins’ experience in the army with a “monkey show”
-The unveiling of the families’ secret nickname, Lil Tony, for sister’s fiancé.
-Several examples of how gay regular Tony is.
-Girlfriend’s mom on roadtrippin- “That’s ok Spencer you should enjoy life when you are young, you just have to get your life together by the time you are 24”….I just turned 24.
-Cousin’s constant use of the terms “fuck”, “blunt”, and “mangina”. In such memorable sentences as “At the fucking wedding I’ll be smoking a big fat fucking blunt right in the aisle.” or “If someone threw my fucking baby I would take out my mangina and slap them right across the fucking face”.
The excitement of the meal was soon replaced with some of the most intense boredom I have ever experienced. Upon my good friend Josh’s recommendation we decided to watch the “Science of Sleep”******, which true to its name put everyone to sleep almost instantly.
The next morning we packed up the car and hit the road for what would prove to be quite a wild adventure in the Redwoods.
*The cats sleep outside.
**Spencer’s note: I do not share this view and am feeling a little uncomfortable about continuing on this journey with Corey, the dog-hating maniac.
***Three dollars a day or whatever you can panhandle/find in dumpster/donate blood for.
****Also known as squares.
*****Delicious balls of ice cream covered in the perfect compliment of raw dough and flour. May taste like a ball of rotten mangoes covered in human skin to the less refined.
******Terrible
-Corey
3 comments:
Thanks for calling assholes
Adam
Sorry Siegel I didnt know if you would want to hang out with two crazy ol' drifters. I would have loved to see my old mentor though. I hope all is well and if you have some time off we have an open seat in the car, but remember it is BYOMushrooms.
The quality of these posts has been excellent so far. I thought a mangina was when you tuck your cock and balls between your legs and walk around like an ugly woman. How can you slap someone in the face with that?
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