Two Weekends Ago

From doctorpon

Outskirts of Eugene, Oregon. Friday morning, 5am. Ramon's Mercedes, our diesel-powered chariot of the night, comes to rest in the Denny's parking lot. Ramon gets all you can eat pancakes. Ramon can eat two pancakes. David drinks watery coffee. He sees the free refills as a personal challenge. Tommy and Karyn eat sensible meals.

From doctorpon

University of California, Davis campus. Monday, 2pm. Karyn and I are waiting at the shuttle stop. We will ride the bus for an hour and a half. Our next stop is reality.

Let Freedom Swing

I hate to sound like a self-congratulatory asshole, but I stuck to my guns tonight. My house had a big party tonight and I was detailed on security. By the end of the night I have to turn out a group of 3 fratty giant and their lady friend. They keep insisting that they're on their way out or have a host, but they keep lingering and making up names of people they know.

I kept hounding them about if they had a host, and if so, could they procure that person? Well, these two guys, about as fratty as Natty and wide as a pine tree kept lingering after every time that I ask that they leave. Eventually they link up with their 3rd fratty friend. They linger together, looking over their shoulders to see if I'm still watching them. I ask that they leave. They drift around and collect their lady friend. I ask that they leave. Their lady friend claims to know someone. I ask if they have a host. Lady friend offers to find her host and disappears into the crowd. The three fratty giants stay with me by the door. They keep shit-talking ("this party's lame anyway") but I just watch their reflections in the glass, unmoving. Lady friend returns.

"We didn't want to stay anyway," Lady Friend says is a huff, filled with as much indignation as a 5-year old deprived of his birthright to lollipops.

I shake hands with each of the fratty guys. They are each a head taller than me.

"I don't like you, William Wallace," the third one says.

It is a 90s-themed party. I am dressed as Mel Gibson in Braveheart. Half my face is painted blue and I am wearing nothing but a kilt. I hold a plastic sword in my hand. My face is impassive and simply stares at them as they leave.

Sketchy-ass mofos stay outta my house!

The Tap's Run Dry

Went out to water the nursery today, but only drips came out of the nozzle. Don't know where to find the valve to get things running again. Just wish I could find that valve. Wrap my fingers around the enameled metal fitting. Give it a firm twist. But until then, only drips.

Independence Day

If I ever changed my last name, I think I'd have to chose "Freeman."

Some things, even familiar things, feel so different when you experience them as an independent adult.

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