What the hell?

Please tell me I'm crazy for even considering this.

I mean, wouldn't it be chock full of Star Trek-Star Wars-convention freaks? (As in the kind that enjoy dressing in period costume.)

Interesting. It couldn't be any worse than the industry networking social events. But this brings to mind the collection of business cards that I'm growing at an alarming rate. Essentially any time Irene is in a bar in California, my business cards must be copulating like bunnies in the depths of my purse. But that's another story that I need a scanner for.

Erm.

So now that I'm sitting here I'm drawing a blank for Friday night. Thaaaat's right. That's because I did nothing. Oy. I read and vegged in anticipation of a road trip Sunday. (I wanted to be uber productive Saturday and run errands to the post office, bank, etc.) Charlie and I were supposed to drive up to Julian Saturday to pick up an ax from Gemma. (Who forgets an ax?) We had a change in plans.

Originally the plan had been for Charlie and I to go, while She was out on furlough. Ahem. However, She felt ill for her first day and opted out of highway cleaning. (FYI: If you miss two in a row you have to start over.)

Fine and dandy. At least this way there wouldn't be any animosity or green fangs exposed. When Charlie got home we set off. Actually we made a side trip to KMart in order to properly clothes our beloved convict. (Work boots are key.) Then we hit the highway. At this point I realized why cramming three adults into a sports car was not such a brilliant idea. Actually, the cramps shooting up my legs were the first warning sign. Pictures were impossible to take from my scooped bucketseat. Grr.

Julian is roughly an hour's drive north. We got there considerably faster than that. On many a curvy, windy road. I've been told it was perfectly safe. But as mentioned previously, my view of the pavement was limited. One thing for the other. Otherwise I would probably have died of a heart attack on the way up.

Gemma is a "hippy-nature loving-potsmoking-lesbian" who "is in a band, leads karaoke night at the locale country club, lives on a mountain in a silver bullet trailer". Mention her name in the small town of Julian and doors open. If there were bouncers, we'd have preference. But there aren't any. Nor do they apparently ask for cover charges at the door. Ever. Michelle met Gemma years ago at a P parade. Something stuck. So periodically they head up to drink, rent cabins, drink, smoke, and raise a ruckus in this small town. For fun my brother likes to chop trees down and dig holes. Hence the ax. (Good thing we weren't pulled over on the way home with a weapon in the trunk. eyeroll. Did I mention my brother religiously carries a knife? Nice combo. My poor mother is going to have a heart attack when she reads this.)

Side note: Visit the official web site for Julian and you'll see that "it's still beautiful and safe to visit". They refer to the massive Pine and Peak fires that burned recently. We hiked around Gemma's property to see the damage. The mountainsides are literally black. It's really weird b/c of the limited amount of trees that burned. When there's only scrub brush to burn, there's very little left. I don't knwo about you, but if I could look out my window and see a raging fire, it would be time to leave. But no. People in this town stayed home unless forced to leave by the authorities.

So we hiked, played with the herd of adorable loveable dogs (and two cats!), meandered around town, nibbled jabanero pistachios and planned dinner. Discussed bringing home a female black lab. (LUV this dog.) I almost got to see what "dinner theatre" consists of, but She thought a show ending at 10.30 would be too late. So no Man of la Mancha.

Instead we ate chicken wings, pork and rib eye steak. Conveniently located in the back of 'the' restaurant is a bar complete with a taxodermist's works of art. Heads, skins, bones. You name it. It's hanging on the wall. Yup. Our bartender appeared to be on crack. (Or something. I don't know my drugs. But according to Her he had definitely done something. Very erratic. Plus he missed an easy upsell opportunity. A barstool neighbor introduced me to scotch.)

Wait. Almost forgot. Drinks cost little to nothing. Bottled beer is around 3 dollars. I forgot to ask what tap prices were like. But the top-shelf scotch bar-stool-neighbor-dude was drinking set him back .... 7 bucks. That's it.

Anyhoo. After properly dousing ourselves we drove over to the country club. (Irene was pp drunk b/c of all the free drinks.) I don't have the heart to properly mock the reception party that was happening in the bar. I prefer to save that for another time. (I thought the only people who wore formal wear to bar were college kids after a formal.) Let's just say that I drank enough to forget how tired I was, and how utterly annoyed I was at being out so late. Why? Even though we had agreed to leave no later than 10pm, there was always "another drink" or "story" or something that She needed to attend to. 1) I was thinking of the drive home 2) Furlough??? 5 AM wake up call anyone?? (And I missed dinner theatre to watch (admittedly nice) small town folk drink?)

Blah. But I did have a lot of fun. And I have too many funny stories about even funnier people. I did notice that the resident lesbian kept casually touching my arm. And she's not normally a toucher you know? Kind of disconcerting. Then again, the-guy-whose-name-i-can't-remember-right-now-who-is-supposedly-harmless, kept trying to touch me also. She whispered 'he likes his hispanic girls' and then proceeded to nudge me. JOY! Hot dang. Snare me a man.

Come on. If you went away to college, you'll understand me categorizing him under "Local". Flannel shirt over a t-shirt, jeans (but everyone wears those to bars here), a baseball hat, and a drawl.

Hmm. My mother is right. I'm going to end up alone and bitter if I keep ridiculing life.

I can't help myself.

:)

posted by irene @ 10/07/2002 01:41:00 AM