13 posts tagged “miss scotch”

Some time after Scotch and I got engaged, we were chillin' together somewhere and discussing the many improbable triumphs our relationship has seen. We marvelled at just how much fucking FUN we have together, and how happy and comfortable we are together. We boasted to ourselves about how, even during tough times, our enjoyment of and love for each other comes so easily. We began to feel like maybe we were cheating or something. Relationships aren't supposed to be this much fun, right? All you ever hear about is how much work they are. Now, don't get me wrong... we have to work at ours too. We've worked a tremendous amount on it. But, it's that kind of work that you love, partially because it's fun work, and partially because you know the payoff is huge. Anyway, as we got further in to our engagement and closer to our wedding day, we started to wonder if some authority figure was going to intervene and come up with some reason we wouldn't be allowed to be together.

"I'm sorry, folks, but the Department of Health has determined that you two simply don't detest each other enough to be a married couple. You're going to have to find more suitable mates."

We frequently joked about how there was no way we were going to get away with locking in eternal happiness. Why should we be so lucky? We imagined guys in black suits with dark glasses and earpieces suddenly grabbing one of us and throwing them in a van, never to be seen or heard from again.

The prophecy almost came true when, on their way to the ceremony, Nadia (the Maid of Honor) and Scotch were pulled over by the most unforgiving police officer in Hawaii and detained for a long time, while being berated for a variety of offenses, including crying over being late for one's own wedding. Meanwhile, my Best Man and I raced across the island to make up time lost to a faulty alarm clock. Storm clouds literally opened up a deluge of rain as we picked up the Most Awesome Flower Girl Ever on our way.

We all made it, of course. The weather cleared up and it was, honestly and without exaggeration, the most beautiful and amazing day I've ever seen. We said our vows (in Hawaiian and English), exchanged leis, exchanged rings, kissed, and sealed the deal. We made it, and nobody can fuck with that now.

Shortly after the ceremony, Scotch reminded me to check out the inside of my ring. I excitedly removed it, squinted, and read the most perfect and clever inscription:

One month from today, I'll be in the most beautiful location of the most beautiful place, eye to eye with the most beautiful girl. We'll vow (in two languages even) to stand by each others' sides for the rest of our lives, which is pretty fucking awesome. Some people are freaked out by such a commitment, but I've never been more sure of anything in my life. As cliche as it sounds, Miss Scotch is truly my best friend and my favorite person to be with. I miss her when we're apart, and every time I see her or hear her voice I'm like a puppy dog whose owner just came home from work. Marrying her is like signing up for free massages, on rollercoasters, with chocolate fondue between each ride, for the rest of my life. I'm ON FUCKING BOARD.

Stick by Me

John Holt

The last 24 hours have been the best of my life. 

03 - The Ritz

Office

Last night we saw K's friend's band Office play at 330 Ritch. They played an amazing set, as expected, and we danced the rest of the night away. Afterwards, we brought K's friend and her boyfriend to our place where we ate greasy burgers, got fucked up, and watched Dave Chappelle. Rudy put on a show for everyone with Mr. Frog, and we stayed up talking and laughing until we could rage no further. It was a good night. Here's a picture of my hot date for the night, and show pictures are below.

My date

El Presidente

There's a very exclusive club that meets quite frequently at our house. The founding members are Miss Scotch and Rudy, but I am also a member. Other members may include Tiff and Lisa, but I don't actually know. Only the President of the club knows who all the members are, and our President happens to be Rudy, and he's not talking.

The club is called Nap Club, and its mission is a simple one - to promote extensive and sometimes even debaucherous napping on and around the various soft surfaces of the house. President Rudy is tireless in his commitment to the mission, spending upwards of twenty hours a day either napping or pondering napping, promoting napping, or calling to order the frequent Nap Club meetings. He is constantly investigating new corners of the house for their nap-worthiness, and testing new napping positions and theories. Some would observe his behavior and say he's obsessed, but the rest of us in Nap Club know that he's just committed, and we admire his gumption.

This weekend, with both Scotch and I sick, many emergency Nap Club meetings were held. Napping took place at all hours of the day and night, in various rooms, on various pieces of furniture, and under the influence of various narcotic cold remedies and nap aids. I feel like we accomplished a lot, and this was the weekend that propelled Nap Club in to the big leagues of social relaxation. I'm entertaining the idea of commemorating this weekend every year in the future as a two-day nap-in for all club members called Napapalooza.... or perhaps Napstock.

Being back at work this Monday morning is difficult, but I feel reassured that President Rudy is at home, putting in his time and takin' 'er easy for the rest of us.

This morning, Scotch got up at 4:30 like she has every day this week. She got herself ready and got to work by 6am. After working a full day with no break, she went to another office and interviewed for another temp job. After that, I picked  and dropped her off at the senior citizens' assisted living homes in our neighborhood, where she's doing volunteer work for a party they're having, serving them drinks and getting them wasted. 

I, by comparison, floundered about in bed until I absolutely positively HAD to get my ass up in order to make it in by ten(ish), worked for a few hours, then made the aforementioned Scotch-transport run, and am now sitting on the couch with the dog watching Roomba clean the place up.

I'm not worthy.

So, Wednesday I knocked off work a little early, having not finished my awesome Hack-a-thon[tm] project. I met Lady Scotch at the BART station, where we hustled ass to the airport. Our destination: the unholiest of places. The belly of the beast. That city whose name we dare not speak aloud. Los Angeles. Birthplace of Road Rage. Ground Zero of the Botox craze. Et cetera, et cetera... What on earth would lure us to such a destination? A concert, of course.

Specifically, we were there to see Office at The Troubadour. An old friend of Scotch's is the keyboard player, so I attempted to rig a surprise trip wherein friends would reunite and rock and roll would be jumped around to. The surprise was thwarted when several friends were sloppy in their use of discretionary communication, but we were still excited - Scotch to see her old friend play, and me to see one of my new favorites play live.

It was a great show... Office is amazing. Their album is awesome and their live show was a fucking blast. They played the shit out of that place.

After their set, we retired to the back bar so K and her friend could catch up. While there, I noticed the bass player of one of my favorite bands, OK Go, had walked in, so I decided to say hello and thank him for being awesome. I said, "so are you just here supporting another great Chicago band?" and he told me that he and K's friend were also old friends. Sweet. Not wanting to be a gusher, I bid him good evening, but he eventually found his way over to our table and while K and her friend reminisced, Tim and I had great conversation about various topics, including music and bands of course, but also things like favorite cities, barbecue restaurants, and home prices. He was a cool guy and he firmly insisted that I listen to "Discovery" by Daft Punk at my earliest convenience.

I'm familiar with Daft Punk, but I'd never taken them (it?) seriously, as it just falls in the dance music category for me. But, when someone you respect musically makes a recommendation, you take it, and that's what Rhapsody is for. So, I'm currently rocking the aforementioned album and I have to say that it's registering about an 8.9 on the ass shaking Richter scale. While it's true that it is just dance music, it's pretty fucking awesome, musically. The arrangements and instrumentation are incredibly funky, and the whole thing just grooves. Call me a Daft Punk fan, I guess.

I won't bore you with details of the rest of the trip. Suffice to say that after 24 hours in that place, we were happier than ever to return home. Scotch made a beeline for the shower the second we walked in the door and Rudy showered me with love, despite being aware that my scent was definitely not the same.

One more thing of note - in addition to her many other endearing qualities, Scotch is one of the most fun travel partners I've had the pleasure of flying with. We made ourselves laugh so fucking hard while making fun of the pilot last night that I'm sure we're on some DHS watch list now. Good times.
 

• Friday - had plans to see King of Kong, and then go to burlesque and big band show at DNA lounge, but instead, we got in to the Black Francis show at Hotel Utah. It was pretty amazing, but it got a little boring and we were tired, so we left about 2/3 of the way in.
  
• Saturday, Scotch made an INSANE pumpkin crab curry and we brought it to a pumpkin carving party. She likes to make lion pumpkins, and I like to make pumpkins that throw up, so we made a lion that was throwing up. I think we won.
  
• After that, we were going to go rock it over at Nick's, but I wasn't feeling well, so we went home and observed Lights Out SF by turning off just about everything in the house. We had lots of candles, and something that resembled a fire in the fireplace. We played a game of Phase 10, and I won because I am awesome. We were having so much fun that we kept the lights off about 40 minutes longer than we were supposed to, and then when we finally turned them on, we marveled at how awesome electricity is and how much more fun Phase 10 is when you can see the cards.
  
• Yesterday, we made breakfast and rocked about the house for a bit. We attempted to take Rudy to Fort Funston, but there was some sort of walk/race/fun run/10k/5k/marathon for the cure/cancer/rice/hunger/menopause going on on the Great Highway, and that pretty much fucked up all routes south. So instead we headed the opposite direction to Baker Beach. The beach was pretty crowded and Rudy had an awesome time frolicking and making friends. While at the beach, we decided to Furminate him to see if we could cut down on his insane shedding (didn't help), and he was displeased. We set out to walk the length of the beach from the cliff to the bridge, and about a third of the way there, stopped so Rudy could meet a scruffy surfer dog. After a few seconds of introductions, the scruffy dog walked over to Scotch, lifted his leg, and proceeded to pee on her. I yelled out, "NOOOOO!!" but it was too late. She was hit. We retreated to the car and headed back to the house.
  
• After changing out of her pee pants, me and Scotch headed over to Q on Clement for a late lunch. It was great. Afterwards, we wanted ice cream, and we dropped in to a crazy ass mini-mart/crepe place, where I had a gigantic crepe curled in to cone shape and filled with chocolate ice cream, hunks of cheesecake, and whipped cream. I died, and it was worth it.
  
• After eating, we stopped at the pet store in the hood to get Rudy some food. It was there that we procured the hilarious cow costume. I put it on him as soon as we got home. I've never seen him ate anything so severely before. He was so angry that he just froze. Didn't walk, didn't move... nothing... I picked him up and brought him in to the bedroom to show Scotch. I placed him on the rug where he stood perfectly still, seething with hatred, for a good 15 minutes while we laughed hysterically at him and took humiliating pictures. After a while, he sat down and continued to look at us with the white hot fury of one thousand suns, and once we were able to move again we took it off him and gave him treats.
  
• More goofing off at home, and then I headed out to the Mission to go to a show with an old Seattle friend. Saw The Struts, who play some mean ass 60s garage (think Detroit Cobras but KICK ASS), and Lord Loves a Working Man, a band that my good friend Steve used to be in. They play some really great gritty ass soul with a good horn section and an amazing lead singer and piano player. They also win for the best soul band name ever (and you win if you get the reference). I decided to bail at around 11:30. I was totally starving and was thinking I'd try to score a burrito or something before heading home, but then I stepped out of the bar and who's standing right in front of me? TAMALE LADY!! WIN!!! Serendipity, baby. I downed a pork tamale and was on my way home to my sweet with a happy belly.
  

My weekends have pretty much ruled lately.

Hello neighborhood...

Scotch asked me to let you all know that she is, in fact, alive and well. She's temping this week at a soul-sucking office gig with limited internet access. No email and no Vox for her, but she's already memorized like 40% of Wikipedia. If this keeps up, I might try to get her on Jeopardy.

Things are great around the Casa del Pantalones y Escocés (is that the right word?). We're commuting together, across town at rush hours via motorcycle, which could end up fulfilling our desire to die at the same time... so that's nice. Rudy's going on lots of walks and is pretty psyched on that. This weekend, we'll be working on cleaning out the garage and downstairs areas to prepare to set up a little woodshop for when Scotch is ready to flip the bird to corporate life again. Trips are planned and domestic bliss rolls along nicely. Life is good.