Catch Up

Mmmm, ketchup.

Whoops, sorry. Haven’t eaten since sunrise.

But catch up, indeed. Since I went to San Francisco this weekend and ignored the responsible voices in my head telling me to do some work, I’ve fallen horrendously behind. I had to present an article on code-switching in anthropology, and as of 18 hours before the presentation I had yet to read the article. Or come up with an hour’s worth of discussion material. Hee hee. I also had a topical essay due today in the language acquisition seminar. What’s that you say? Basically, I have to recap all of the discussion and all of the criticism we’ve done since day one of class. I suppose it’s better than having a midterm, but Christ on a crutch, talk about busywork. It’s amusing, because usually to this professor’s demands of 8-15 pages I submit six and a half. This time, though, I had an attack of verbal diarrhea all over Word. In four and a half hours I managed to crap out 4000 words (12 pages) of what looks like graduate-level writing. I’ll be damned if I have any idea what I said, but hey.

I can’t wait to sleep. The last two days I’ve been going to bed at 3:30 AM, getting up at 7:30 AM and staying on campus until 10 PM. Tonight, a brandy alexander for me!

In other news, San Francisco was lovely. You can see the flickr photos, although for some reason the stupid badge over there on the right isn’t displaying anything but Labor Day. When I finally get off my ass and make this a real website I promise such blatant suckage shall not be tolerated. But back to San Francisco.

Mrs. Thurston Howell III (the Jag) departed at 11 AM on Friday for the Bay Area, arriving at about 4:30, with one stop along the way. The Jag sure does lope along in the 90-110 mph range nicely, although at those speeds she sucks down premium even faster than Karen Walker sucks down gin. I met Irma at her work at got introduced to her lovely coworkers. In contrast to her last job, I got to talk to people and walk around instead of waiting in the lobby while Irmz finished her work. From there we went straight to the taqueria , to the local liquor mart, and swung by her parents house to say hi and have her dad ‘force’ tequila on me. Jen arrived late, but not as late as she could have, given the havoc that the storms were wreaking on both DC and NYC.

The next day (Sat), we went into San Fran proper to partake in the Cheesecake Factory, which is situated on top of the Macy’s at Union Square, affording us a lovely view of th TransAmerica pyramid and the Blue Angels flying by (it was fleet week). While awaiting our table, we decided to have a cocktail. Rather than going the typical mimosa or bloody mary route, we decided to keep it Jesuit and assault our livers with mai tais and mojitos. I made bambi eyes at the attractive barkeep, so the booze flowed like water. Two mai tais and a mojito later (each), we were sufficiently sauced to enjoy our meal and drunkenly wander San Francisco in the broad daylight. Splendid.

After returning and napping off the bad, we went to dinner and had some more booze, which was followed by even more booze at home (brandy alexanders while watching Crash, a movie a highly recommend). Sunday we slept in (duh), and Irma’s mom called to tell us she had made chilaquiles, which was the only thing that could have coaxed me out of bed and into the car at that moment. Irma’s family is too cool. We watched Titi’s quince video and played with Irma’s newborn niece, a happy, healthy and hairy little bundle of joy.

Because no gathering of the F-squad can pass without mole, we went home and made molemolemole, the ambrosia of our time. Sadly, it was then time to take Jen to the airport and lament the fact that we all live in far-flung areas of the continent. Jen having left, though, I got to share the marriage bed with Irma. During the night, Irma cuddled up with me, as she had with Jen the previous nights. I thought, “so this is what it’s like not to have a cold empty spot on the other side of the bed.” Le sigh.

Monday I had lunch with my former physical chemistry lab partner, who’s now doing her PhD at Stanford before gassing up and rolling home. Surprisingly, I made it home without stopping and used only 3/4 tank of gas. The Jaguar hood ornament, a leaping jaguar with an open mouth, did manage to snag a plastic garbage bag though. If you had tried to make that happen it wouldn’t have in a million years, but I got to ride home with a whipping, shredding piece of plastic firmly mounted to the bonnet.

So the trip was worth the insanity of this week, although I still plan on having a cocktail when I get home. Now I need to start planning my halloween trip to DC and my new year’s trip to Vegas. I think planing vacations keeps me from going insane during the boring times.

Till then dahlinks.


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