Its the big, rambling on incoherantly, San Diego post. Oh yeah, I was in San Diego this past weekend. I would have gotten this up sooner, but I was busy halucinating. I'll get to that later.

I left Tuscon with a rumble and played my gameboy on the flight as I tried to hide from the awful couple next to me. They were going on vacation. To hawaii apparently. I don't know that for a fact, but they were wearing similar hawaiin(sp) shirts. And the dude's was a polo. It made my eyes hurt.

San Diego is beautiful. Just gorgeous. And the weather is consistently 70 and sunny. A bad day to them is 69 and a small cloud off on the horizon. Those people are so spoiled.

Friday night was just a night at the bars. There was some teaching by myself and Fishman(Andy). We spread the good word of the wingman technology. Someday, I will write them down in a web readable format, and the world will know of our genius! But, I'm lazy and no one actually cares anyway.

Saturday was the Pacific Beach blockparty. It was kinda "Taste of Chicago" like except not as crowded and not brutally hot and muggy. It was, as always, 70 and sunny. Fishman, his friend Jeremy and myself had a three man one fist boxing match. I got my ass kicked. It ruled. Then the party.

I entered said party with 1 giant can of Sopporro and 1 40 of Mickey's ice. I figured, "Hey, its early, I don't want to party out." It was about 5.30 pm at this point. I finished my Sopporro and was starting on my Mickey's when the "Mayor of Beertown"(Raj) showed up and began to distribute cans of Bud Light. He and some other dude, the deputy mayor I guess, just walked around for awhile and passed out beer. I grabbed one, because, well, I had no spare left. They left, came back about 5 minutes later, saw the undrunken beer and yelled at me. I was forced to chug said beer. This was the turn that did not need to happen.

Things from this point on are somewhat chaotic and will not be delievered in order. I do not remember the sun setting, only that the sun was set. I do remember talking to some dude and attempting to convince him to move to chicago. There was a fight. One guy lost pretty badly, got saved by the crowd and would not give up. Some bystander got hurt and I attempted to administer first aid. Instead the guy tried to rush past me to fight again. I held him without really trying. He was rather foolish. Then there was the ritualistic shaking of beer cans. The ritualistic poking with keys of said shaken beer cans. And, of course, the ritualistic guzzling foamy beer as it spewed forth from said beer can. The cops showed up. Then a swat team. Then some female police officer hit on one of Fishman's female friends. The cop asked her her sign. She denied hitting on her, but no one believed it.

Some people were dancing(not me). Some people were mugged and had a bottle of sprit and a bottle of rum shoved into their mouths and told to drink or drown(me). One person went to the ocean with a beer fairy(she had a hat made out of a keystone light box and wings(I still think her head was beer box shaped)) and her 3 amazingly sexy friends(not me, you bastard Jeremy). And one sad, sad person got fucking TOSSED to the ground like a sack of potatoes by Kara, Fishman's girlfriend(me).

Then a walk to the car on the beach. Going to the burrito stand. Having a very convincing transvestite talk me into buying a nasty, nasty fish taco and then passing out at Jeremy and Kim's(another of Fishman's friend's) apartment. All in all, an amazing night.

Sunday was a bbq on the beach with me learning how to bodyboard, playing in the ocean for the first time and having a totally chill time. The ocean rules. Even if it is all salty and stuff. And, since its summer, I needed my official, "It's summer!", sunburn. And did I ever get it. I'd like to not make this a tradition, but I do it every year. So on the flight back and as I was falling asleep on Sunday I was hallucinating ridiculous shit as the sun poisining rocked my brain. It was pretty awful.

Verdict: San Diego kicks ass.

Lesson's Learned: "The Mayor of Beertown" kicks ass. Jeremy needs to share when he has FOUR DAMN WOMEN. Kicking cats, like Fishman's, is just as much fun as kicking kitties, especially when they attempt to slit your wrists open by biting them. And, as always, never trust transvestities. Because, really? You're just asking for it.
- posted by Pat @ 12:02 AM