Five Fridays, Five Paydays.

1.5.2k3
Thursday, 30 January, 2003

January, May, August and October 2003. Five Fridays in each month. That kinda rules. You know why? That means you can sleep off your Thursday night an extra day! Uh ... How 'bout ... An extra day to stay home and cool it after spending yr paycheck buying your lovely fellow List Members delish drinks the night before. I don't know. Here are some things I do know:
I got a robot-grade cold going on. I went over to the doc and he poked, prodded, and did all those humiliating tests. He literally scratched his head and said, "I don't know. Could be Ebola. You crash and bleed out yet?" I told him no. He got that look of sudden inspiration, grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me and said: "Have you been drinking regularly?" I said no. Because of the cold. He slapped me across the face, several times, and shrieked, "My god! You get to the bar and have a few RIGHT NOW!" Then he let me go, regained composure and said, "That'll fix you right up. Okay now. On your bike." And he ushered me out. So, ya see, "doctor's orders."
I also know that you better go see BOB LOG III at BotH this Sunday. He's a pal of mine since we were little robots. And he's an international superstar. Everyone I know is going, so that means you. Click the links. See the Log.


Then there's Tonight: Hyde Out

A nice little joint to tell funny stories you've been unwilling to share. Also, a lot of requests for this venue. Why? Don't know. But, nevertheless, see you there!


bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

No con leche.

1.4.2k3
Thursday, 23 January, 2003

Invading Iraq, pirates versus pirates, earthquakes in Mexico ... what's missing from the news? I'll tell you what: Juan Valdez and that goat of his. They ought to be getting Team of the Year awards and it ought ot be being reported. That's right. Every so often I realize how goddamn important coffee is to me and I start thinking about man and beast working the hills of South America, bringing the bean home to me. I'd be up shit creek without the fruit of their toil. And with what's facing me work-wise, I'm gonna need a lot of it. Starting right now. I'll tell you the venue, shut the hell up, get a cuppa joe and get back to work.

Tonight: Annie's

Back to home base for tonight's drinks. Lotsa folks down SOMA, so why not? Plus there's good cell reception there for interesting phone calls. See you there!


bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

Yi-eee!.

1.3.2k3
Thursday, 16 January, 2003

Well goddamn if I didn't burn the holy shit outta my mouth on some hot soup the other day. Took two whole days to recover and the mouth ain't totally normal yet. I remember the last time I did as much and I remember the vow: "Nope! No more burnin' the shit outta my mouth." So much for that.
And to top off the physical discomfort, I'm forced to reassess my soup heating strategy. In the perfect world, you've got a pot on a stove and steamy soup ready to be ladled into bowl. In imperfect world, you got a can, an opener, a bowl and a microwave. This solution seems straightforward, but I manage to screw it up. I either get soup that is hot around the edges and ice-cold in the middle, or liquid-hot magma-soup ready to render my mouth fried crispy. With both you naturally got a bowl that ya need fireplace tongs to haul out of the micro. Too bad for all the fog, 'cause I'm ready to ditch the micro-zapper and try solar.

Tonight: (Now here's a tricky one: This link is a link to Frankie's Bohemian. TNSC is going to the bar next door. The bar is called THE FISHBOWL. If you go to Frankie's and don't see anyone there, it's because everyone's next door. FISHBOWL don't have a Citysearch entry. Dumbasses. Alan will say that this is too confusing and that you lovely List Members won't know where to go, but I got more faith in ya than he does.) The Fishbowl

They got snacks at this joint. And Philly cheesesteaks down the road. No whitehot soup. Thank Christ.
Bring yr pals, I know I will. Bring yr inhalers. See you there!


bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!