Oh, my gawd, becky, her butt is soo big!
This past week was spent sleepless and overworked, what with the release of version 6.0 of http://platformsw.intel.com/ and its internal counterpart the Kit Tool. Wednesday and Thurdsay were spent in 12 and 13 hour work days, with no sleep, and then Friday’s half-day and drive down to Mousewitz. Fortunately,
Poor waiter, Emilio. He was so green and inexperienced. He didn’t even know that “blue” (bleu?) means blood rare, and he works in a steakhouse! On the other hand, the Lon lookalike sitting reading David Eddings at a nearby table was scrumptious. Lon, for those of you who don’t know, was an ex-boyfriend, who I nicknamed Twinkletoes. Someday I’ll tell you that story.
Arriving in Anaheim at around 1am, we were met by
I awoke at 0630, realized that it was too early, so decided to wake up Urso, unsuccessfully. He mumbled something, and I went back to sleep. 0710 came, and I made attempt two. Still didn’t work, although Urso was more intelligible. 0750, and Urse actually said, “we agreed last night that whoever got up first.” Discouraged, I gave up until he finally woke up, and we snuggled for a bit before getting up out of bed.
Urso, John O., and I struck off early, purchased our tickets and hopped the monorail in to Mousewitz. I hadn’t been there in 20 years, and not much had changed. Back then, I was still fresh and naive enough to enjoy it. This time, world-weary and cynical, I found it to be surreally oppressive. I mean, I did enjoy the couple of rides I went on, but behind those painted-on smiles lurked a sense of despair and dissatisfaction. You could see it in their cold dead eyes.
Cold dead eyes.
I actually made it to the bear lunch, where there was eye-candy aplenty. I was given a number of trick cards, some of whom I will be contacting in the hopes of gaining a new pelvic affiliate or two. A couple of men especially stand out in my head, but we’ll just let them stay there for the time being.
Finally, BigJohnSF and I went back to the inn for a swim and disco nap. We intended to rejoin the melee, which John did. I just couldn’t go back and endure any more of Mouse Fuhrer, beaming his insidious brand of happiness out his radar ears to his slave-like minions, beating them into the submission, a type of which there are few words to describe. I’m sure they start out there bright-eyed and optimistic, but the get beaten down, like hammered copper, into this new hideous shape.
So, I took off with ednixon for sunnier climes, and after we checked out Piston’s in Long Beach. OK, we didn’t stay there very long – long enough for me to watch the boot black do an adequate job of polishing a patron’s boots. Eh, I thought, it’s not a spit shine like they do in the military. I suppose most leatherfags don’t know the difference.
Next, we headed to downtown LA to the Pantry Cafe, an historical business. Since 1924, they have served steaks and chops and a few other items, quickly and tastily. Their cole slaw is really quite good – I got the recipe.
Midtown Athletic was next. Yummy latino men. Freaky drugged out bottoms. Perhaps I’ll tell you about the one guy I invited to my room.
Hollywood and Frank’s apartment. Fold-out futon bed. Sleep. Wake. Fix smutminer.com link problem. Drive back to Anaheim. Pick up Henry and Al. Drive back up the 99 vice the 5, which was a good thing.
Home. OK, soon to be former home. The Chrysler disgorged Henry and Al, and the Eclipse swallowed them and their luggage up for t
he drive to the bay area. See you guys later.
Bed. Snuggles. And then, I coughed up the entire brown sky of Orange County for a few hours. When 0600 came rolling around, I decided I hadn’t had enough rest so I called in and told them I was not coming in. No big whoop – we had launched the site, and there weren’t any real problems to deal with that the support flunky couldn’t handle.
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