Virtual shotgun

So I have a friend in "the other Washington" (as we DC natives tend to think of it) who has been driving cab at night, and talking to him while he squires Puyallup's finest to and from taverns and casinos is like listening to reality TV with no picture. Conversations tend to be punctuated by statements like "Oh, the police are here. Can I call you back?" or "Hmm...I'm outside Mugs and Jugs, but I don't see my fare."

Can I just say much I do not miss getting loaded. Oy.

Today is Sunday and I am immensely grateful that it is a three-day weekend. In the true spirit of a person who relishes extremes I have gone from someone with no life whatsoever outside of school and waged work to a graduate who has booked every nanosecond of her life for the next three weeks. Thursday I go to Washington (where they invented coffee) to return Sunday. Monday my sister and her husband come here. They leave Wednesday. The next day I fly to Milwaukee (where they invented beer and motorcycles). Friday we fly to the Woods and Waters convention in the four-seater (a seat for me, one for Mark, one for Mindy, and one for Mindy's shoes). The week I return I speak in a meeting in Monrovia, have a dinner date with KD, and am going to a codger-rock punk show in Griffith Park (TSOL, the Dickies, DI, etc.). Yada yada yada...you get the picture. Middle ground? Oh, yeah, that's the spot you pass when moving from one extreme to the other. I am already anticipating the call to my sponsor on about June 20th to discuss my propensity to overbook myself.

As an aside, in explaining who Bob Mould is to a coworker this week, I ran across his blog. Something about the orange template must appeal to post-punk folks with a fondness for the nation's capitol.

Okay, that's all for now.