So Teebz got the ol' insurance settlement, which means that I'm likely gonna schlep him across North America in the near future. We've decided that the route we're going to take is entirely dependent on where we can find Big Buck Hunter Pro© games.
Git m'gun, maw!
BONUS Apparently FHM has done a lot of the work for us, with their Big Buck Hunter map mashup. Thanks, FHM!
Last night, Michael came into work. Which was a surprise since Michael's been living in Thailand/Laos/Burma/Vietnam/Korea/Japan for the last year or so.
He had been awake for somewhere in the vicinity of 60 hours, and had been drinking for around 10, but his wit was somehow intact. As was his ability to stay out of focus while everybody else stays in it:
His last words, while stumbling out of the door at 2am, were "I'll see you soon! Hillary Clit-ton!" One great big non sequituring genius he is.
BONUSBONUSBONUS Mariah has a new single, which includes the best single line I've heard in quite some time:
If you run your mouth and brag about this secret rendezvous
I will hunt you down.
On this day one year ago, we experienced the DC judicial system from within, which somehow prompted me to begin phlogging. A year later, and how far we've come! I've phlogged about things 147 times. That's once every two and a half days!
Mostly it has had to do with cats, but also other things sometimes.
What do I have for you lo on this wondrous phlogiversary? A quick look into the nefarious innerworkings of corporate America!
See, a couple weeks ago I needed a suit, so I went to Bloomingdale's. Natch. They had a sale. Bernard (my fashion consultant) hooked it up
(Ana is her own fashion consultant) and even persuaded me to open up a Bloomingdale's account.
Not only an insider, people. PREMIER INSIDER. I saved $47.
I'm pretty sure the only other store credit card I've ever had was for Structure, which I opened with the purchase of a pair of cargo pants and never paid.
But anyway. I received my card in the mail last week, but it wasn't accompanied by a bill or a billing address, or my balance. So I went online to pay it off today (I'm pretty sure the APR is somewhere around 47%), and after a thorough search of "Bloomies" (premier insider jargon) online, I realized that it is impossible to pay one's Bloomingdale card balance on the internet.
I then called customer service, which told me that I could pay my balance at any Bloomingdale's store. That seemed like a hassle, so I asked if I could pay over the phone. Sure, they said, but it's going to require a $10 processing fee. Those damned corporations! Geniuses! I paid the $10.
Thus concludes my consumer lesson for 2008.
BONUSBONUSBONUS I forgot to include a picture of Ana's secret santa gift from Abe a couple weeks ago, so here it is: The Best Present Ever:
Now, I know you can't read it, so here's the transcription:
ANYONE FUCKS WITH ANA
GETS HACKED UP AND SEALED
IN A 55 GALLON DRUM
I particularly like the specific nature of the threat.
Remember when we were trying to find out where Senior works during the day? Well, we found out really quickly. But since the daytime is kind of a bummer, it took a while to get up the energy to see her. I had to get up before noon today, so I figured it might as well be today.
She works at a pretty awesome piece of depressing business-district DC, covered in beer paraphernalia and peppered with daytime office drunks. In short, awesome. And like the rest of the world, it's hard to take a picture of her there:
Hint: if you add a Michelob Light and a copy of USA Today, you've got a little slice of heaven.
BONUSBONUSBONUS The one-year DeffoVersary is Friday. There's going to be some awesome stuff, provided I think of awesome stuff. How about some ideas?
In the meantime, look at this great picture of the Awakening sculpture being moved to PG County:
Mold in bathroom has begun to overtake rest of house. We're fighting back, with masks.
Yesterday, while enjoying a special Valentine's Day edition of Big Buck Hunter Pro, a young man walked in, camped at the jukebox, and unveiled this particularly unbelievable piece of body art:
I asked him if I could take a picture; he said yes, and then played "Suspicious Minds."
BONUSBONUSBONUS In Los Angeles I saw this weird, non-blue ribbony "Pabst Genuine Draft." WTF, people.
There are certain things one does when traveling to certain cities. In LA, it is getting off the plane, getting in the car, and driving directly to Roscoe's House of Chicken & Waffles.
Then we went to see Teeners and Devin. Saturday afternoon we took a drive up Mulholland and took in the scenery.
Turns out Ana has a thing about standing on cliffs. HAHA LOSER
Last time, we decided that the apartment complex they live in is Melrose Place. This time, however, we realized that it's actually Daniel and Lucille Larusso's apartment from Karate Kid, only with water in the pool. See?
Karate Kid apartment:
Teeners and Devin Apartment:
The only difference is that that fairweather friend Freddy Fernandez doesn't live there. Thanks for backing me up when Johnny beat the shit out of me in front of everybody, Freddy! Enjoy not being in a single scene for the rest of the movie!
The next day we met up with my family before the funeral, and my mom gave me what is likely the best picture ever taken of anyone. Please note my vicious belly, defiant look and my grandma's resulting amusement:
That night, Ana and I toasted to grandma's memory by enjoying a handful of 7&7s--her favorite--at the hotel bar. Hotel bars rule.
After the ceremony we decided to drive down to Newport Beach, where I spend a lot of time as a kid. I asked my mom how to get there (about 30 miles from where we were staying) and she drove me this map:
If you can't tell, it basically says "drive to the coast and take a left." My mom is amazing. But I did get to see my mom's parents' little bungalow for the first time in twenty years:
It's a one-bedroom house and it's probably worth $52,000,000 now.
I had two things I wanted to do in Newport: one, take the ferry across to Balboa Island, which was probably my favorite thing to do as a kid.
Check. Verdict: the ferry lasted all of thirty seconds. But still awesome. Also, either Keri loves the band U2, or she loves me as well.
The second thing I wanted to do was to recreate the picture of me as a kid devouring a chocolate-covered banana. Bam:
Verdict: delicious.
Other delicious things: Winchell's donuts. Particularly chocolate-covered devil's food cake Winchell's donuts. Mom got us a couple for the drive.
Then we got on the plane, looking forward to another delicious red eye. Every time it seems like a good idea when booking the tickets, and a horrible one when we arrive home with two hours before work. But whatevs.
BONUSBONUSBONUS Last week was a bad week for people I knew who were old. Archie, who had been my work's exclusive cabbie for years, passed on Wednesday. He was a great old guy who had become an honorary member of our staff and a friend. We went to his memorial service today:
Archie was a musician, and when he was a younger man he toured with the Ike and Tina Turner Review and opened for Otis Redding before becoming a house guitarist and singer in DC for more than twenty years. He performed under the stage name Art Falls. If you've the gumption, download his song called "I Want You Baby."
What is the Post saying about McCain here? I just can't quite figure it out.
Oh yeah. It's that he's really, really short. Thanks for the link, Wonkette!
After work tonight, Ana and I are getting on a plane to head to my grandma's funeral in LA. Leave it to the best grandma in the world to give us a break from DC winter, and also a chance to see Martina for a couple days.
In other sad news, Poloroid is ceasing to exist. Real Poloroid, that is.
BONUSBONUSBONUS Grandma at 20:
I got a call from my Dad this morning, which I knew only meant that my grandma had died. It's difficult to be sad, though, because she had been ready to go for a long time. But I'm still sad because she was the best grandma ever and she always told me how pretty I was.
In other news, the internet is doing things that I have put off for years, like filing papers to make me single again. The internet is AMAZING. Best part? "Product: Divorce." Ha. That's a quality product you sell, Internet! 
So basically everyone needs to get ready for bachelor Deffo, which as Senior pointed out recently should include essential oils, gold jewelry, sports cars, scantily-clad ladies, expensive electronic equipment, and a tan. It's a lot to get ready for, I know, but we'll all be better for it in the end.
Saturday Night Timeline:
5:00pm-2:51am: Normal
2:52am: Girl accuses dude of hitting her at upstairs bar, approx 30 other dudes attempt to beat living hell out of dude. Glass crashing ensues.
2:53am: Me in manager mode, walk upstairs, say the word "cops," 30 other dudes stop attempting to beat living hell, run away.
2:59am: Dude demands police escort out of premises. Demand is not met because police don't live in my back pocket, and because bar is not UN. Dude leaves, everything fine.
3:25am: Glass cleanup finishes.
3:26am: Co-worker informs me his drawer is $660 short. Count, recount, recount, count other money, check numbers, drink beer quickly, put forehead in hands.
3:29am: Evan points out that report being referenced is for the wrong drawer. Money is not missing. Exhale. Adjourn to office, begin closing procedures.
3:51am: Colin asks me if I smell smoke. I don't. Assume bar is burning down on top of me. Hear Colin hollering from down the hall. Sigh. Walk down hall to the walk-in refrigerator.
3:52am: Discover patron who has stowed himself away in walk-in refrigerator for approximately an hour. Claims he was "locked in." Point out that this is impossible.
3:53am: Realize that patron has cut the power to refrigerator, drank a beer, smoked two cigarettes, broken a case of beer, knocked over a bucket of wings, a box of lemons, punched out a piece of plywood holding in exhaust fan, and urinated in an empty bucket.
3:54am: Recognizing that it would be too difficult to dispose of a dead body, take patron upstairs to get his information and figure out what the hell to do with him:
3:55am: Take information, put it on sheet of paper, discuss the fact that we are probably going to call the police and press charges.
3:56am: Patron takes sheet of paper and tries to eat it. Becomes apparent that patron is in fact the drunkest superspy on the planet. Co-worker does puppy jaw thing on patron, procures paper before it gets digested, but not before it gets saliva'd:
4:00am: Walk patron out, stick a note in his pocket reminding him that he's not really welcome here anymore.
4:01am: Laugh hysterically.
4:02am: Begin cleaning.
BREAKING semi-possible NEWS:
DAVID WAIN IN TALKS TO PRODUCE "WET HOT AMERICAN SUMMER: THE MUSICAL"
OMGZ.
thanks, Lindsayism!
Alot has happened on my phone lately. First, for some reason I used it to capture Colin working the ladies when I had a perfectly working real phone at hand:
He swore that he needed just five more minutes. Next time, Collard Greens, next time!
Also, Murph posed:
Before that, a couple of us went to DC's hottest only after-hours spot, wherein we were stuck for two hours in silence while the coppers tried to pinch us.
If I were 17, it would've been a great story. But I'm not. The coppers would've needed to actually pinch us for it to be a great story at 30.
I finally got my shirt. It's surprisingly high in quality and awesomeness:
And finally, Teebz turned 19! Here he is asking for his keys:
