Chopstork

There were two used tapes from the confessional booth Sunday morning. I thought that was weird since there were only two new tapes left out of a five-pack. Hmm… We watched the two tapes, and they each only had 2 minutes on them. Someone took one of the tapes. What a dick move!

Oh wait, nooow I remember—I switched the first tape, and I hid it. Don’t worry, I found it eventually. You’ll get to see the clips…some day. How many more things do I not remember from the party?

Ran down to the corner during the beer run, got tired, and lay down on the sidewalk to take a nap. Check. Thanks, Janelle for waking me up.

Started the feud with Eli—he said, “180 degrees … or pi radians,” in reference to flippy cups. So I punched him. Check. I could have sworn he started it with his head butting. In the end Red Strawberry beat me up as his proxy.

Break danced in the foyer. Check.

Wrastled Zach. Actually that one I did remember. I did it because Laura told me to. Then she told me to stop. Cuz she didn’t want him to get hurt.

And of course everyone remembers the biggest game of beer bump ever. Congratulations to Mr. Cross—the new Beer Bump Champion of the Universe.

Friends,

I got a very special email this Tuesday. Or rather, my namesake the senior manager in Bethesda, Maryland got it and eventually forwarded it to me. We had been cordially invited to a new event in the festivities of Peterman Going Away Week 2006. It was to be a farewell lunch, and invitees were to dress in Petermanesque attire. I knew right away that this was a big deal. There were going to be prizes, and I HAD TO WIN THEM. But, it wouldn’t be easy. There were going to be dozens of people in that Chipotle dressed like Peterman. Clever, creative people who have so much free time that they mod-out big-wheels and race them around the office. Just think of the competition I would be up against: business-casual Peterman, drunken Peterman, just-got-out-of-bed Peterman, and the biggest threat of all: just-got-out-of-bed-drunken-business-casual Peterman. So, I fretted until Wednesday came. I donned my best Polo shirt. I brushed off my threadbarest khaki’s. I forewent contacts for glasses. I combed my hair forward. I practiced lip-pouting. I may have prepared a speech. I knew I was close, but still, it wasn’t going to be enough. And that’s when I thought of an edge: I would carry a printout of Peterman’s MS Outlook calendar. The Peter-plan. Sheer. Utter. Brilliance.

I don’t want to brag, so let’s just say I smoked the competition.

Yours,
Steve Costansen

…when you can stare at a computer screen. Whoooooaaaah….

Try looking at your hand afterward.

On Sunday when you’re all hungover from our party, we can check out Pedal Monster by Cyclecide. They’re throwing a festival at the Mission Village Market at 18th & Alabama in the city—”a freakish, pedal-and-contraption-centric carnival of stupid and epic proportions.” Last time I saw them it was a circus-rodeo full of crazy bikes, bike-jousting, and pedal-powered carnival rides that you’re not quite sure are safe to ride. From their press release:

Featuring:
-Cyclecide Rides & Sideshow, with Skits, Mutant Bikes, Rodeo Clowns, and punk rock mariachi band Los Banos

-An Only In San Francisco Circus Midway, with Wrong-Way Bike Games, Ornery Clowns Doing Incredibly Stupid Things, and Hot Utra Gypsy Bellydancers Selling Raffle Tickets for Mutant Bikes and Other Prizes.

-Interclub Tallbike Jousting, as seen on TV and in the 2003 film-festival hit documentary *Too Dumb To Die* — contestants include Neanderthals from out-of-town bike tribes, Doyle the 2005 World Tallbike Jousting Champion, and Gorgar the Vain and Belligerent Urine-Eating Monster

-Pervitadora Records’ Glen Meadmore — the Hot, Horny, and Born-Again Singing Cowboy

-The Life-Size Mousetrap — the Rube Goldberg-inspired creation based on the children’s board game but instead of a net at the end there’s a 2-ton safe that smashes things. With three-a-day performances by sexy mice, cranky blue-collar clowns, and the one-woman-band Esmerelda Strange

The Disgusting Spectacle — a Giant Head Sculpture that Picks its Own Nose with an Equally Giant Pointy-Fingered Hand, Powered by a Human-Sized Hamster Wheel

BMX Ramp Competition and Flatland Expo Presented by First Rule

Kielbasa, the Accordion-Playing Lunch Lady

Taking my temperature (I’ve been sick), I thought of a radio station. In your DJ voice: “99.5 WFVR, The Feeever! Commin’ atcha with the HOTTEST hits. Take my temperature, cuz we’re burning up! Oh yeah.” It will be the greatest station ever. The same format will appear in all the major markets—it will be the biggest thing since “The new, Z104.” And when it gets turned into an “El Zol” (siempre de fiesta) the last song we play will be Don’t Fear the Reaper, even though it won’t cure The Fever.

For those not in the know (mom and dad), that last bit is a reference to the SNL More Cowbell skit.

One of my childhood dogs, Lucy, had a bag that she would dawn for backpacking. Whenever we brought it out, her tail would perk up and start whipping around like a sparkler in the hands of an eight-year-old. Her bag was blue. So, I got this shiny new bag with my REI dividend. It’s also blue. It has a fancy shoulder strap that adjusts with a simple tug. It has smartly placed pockets and a Velcro flap for easy access. Did I mention that it’s blue (slate officially, but where did the color slate come from)? Now except for a few pens, a head-lamp, and other “just in case” items, I rarely have anything to stow in my bag. Strangely enough, I find myself looking for things to put in it, SO I CAN BRING IT WITH ME! Maybe the tail does wag the dog after all.

Aaaahahahahaha. Those crazy japs. This could have happened to me in Kyoto. I’d crap my pants. Except I’d really just crap the crapper.

Needless to say, Japan is not a litigious society. By the way, at the end of the video, the girl says the thing cost about $44,000 (Yen 5,000,000) to make.