A West-ed Development

8 October 2011

Good evening beautiful friends.

Today’s weather was the kind of perfection that makes me miss the West, which I am sure my friend MP is happy to hear. I know he wants me to move back to Utah, shave, buy a Jazz jersey, marry a nice Mormon girl (GF can reconvert right?) and settle somewhere in Utah County. Well, this weather may make part of his wish come true. (I will never completely eschew the beard because I want people to remember that no matter what I say or accomplish, I am a lazy, dirty man at heart.)

GF and I were looking for something to watch earlier. We turned on the Wii (not a difficult task, as I just had to show it some leg and promise it sweet nothings) and began looking for Halloween creepy films that were not too frightening. We stumbled across Haunted Honeymoon, starring Gene Wilder, Gilda Radner and Dom Deluise. Watch it if you enjoy laughing.

GF and I later went to fulfill my latest addiction to pumpkin spice lattes. I can’t help it. They are like kissing God if God was made of sweet, sweet sugary fall sap. While we sat outside the coffee shop, a woman who could have subscribed to AARP Magazine and wearing a bicycle helmet told us about Occupy DC and the fact that she went earlier in the day and then began yelling at us about the American people and Blackwater and banging her keys on our table. She then walked away.

We then walked to a restaurant called Il Radicchio (which is Italian for “sick Redneck”) and ate food after ordering.

Now we are sitting in our apartment. GF is finishing a puzzle version of Starry Night and I am typing and we are both watching the Phineas and Ferb Halloween special.

We will soon go to a birthday party in DC for our friend KR. I hope to have many fun stories of interactions with people at the location (One Lounge).

Latte digs

16 August 2011

I had a latte today.

For readers not familiar with lattes*, they (the lattes, not the readers, although I don’t mean to make assumptions) are whipped, heated cow pus, caramel, two heavily beaten coffee beans and two scoops of sour cream. Yum.

I drank the beverage and felt like I had eaten fifteen bags of jellybeans inside twenty doughnuts. (I think the jellybeans were in the doughnuts. I was not.)

I sank into bloated depression.

Then the two coffee beans kicked in and I felt good.

So GF and I walked home. On Metro, nothing exciting occurred as far as I could tell. GF said one ginger-domed dude was being a grade-A hole to another passenger who may have been:

A. His sister

B. His friend

C. His cousin

D. His girlfriend

E. His mother

F. His holographic projection of insecurity

G. Fab Morvan (yes, that Fab Morvan)

Will the mystery ever be solved?

Earlier this week, the post held my final stack of comic books from Night Flight Comics. DC Comics is restarting their comics by issuing 52 #1 titles (the titles are literally numbered “one”). I don’t agree with the choice. I think some of the ideas look great, but restarting some of the series annoys me as a longtime reader (first time caller).

I just reread what I wrote and am too bored by it to continue my thoughts.

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s brand new Cone Alone.

 

*For my Southern audience