The Frenchman and I went and saw the new "Star Wars," which prompted me to write two letters.

Number One: Dear George Lucas, Please give me back the two hours of my life I lost to your monstrosity of a "ridiculously huge budget, terrible character dialogue/interaction and scene change" movie. Special effects do not a great movie make.

Number Two: Dear Kid Who Sat in Front of Us, Please do not repeat even half of what you heard us say as we heckled the screen and were general asses in the theater. Your mom will wash your mouth out with soap. For real.

Wednesday, June 22

Checked out some really cool art before it is put up in various places around town. Brad Petrovich and Al X Jackson's styles are solar systems apart.  Petrovich's work is full of vibrant color and psychedelic political themes. Jackson's work is stunning black and white portraits. I met up with Handsome for a nightcap at The Monsoon Room. His realtor friend tried to slip me the tongue as she wished us a very tipsy goodnight. Geez, at least buy me a drink first. Ha! I am totally looking forward to Monsoon's theme party tonight. Pirates of Polynesia should turn out some righteous costumes.

Thursday, June 23

Port Orchard feels like driving to another country.  Indiana Jones greeted me at the door with a delicious Manhattan, which quickly eased my driving pain. He made a scrumptious steak and potato dinner followed by my favorite chocolate candies. A giggle-fest on the couch ensued as we played Pac-Man with old school controllers.  Sweet.

Saturday, June 25

I have a love/hate relationship with the beer garden at the Taste of Tacoma. It is fun, fun, fun, and then I am tossed, tossed, tossed.  Seattle's funky jam band Reeble Jar was cool, though. After their set, I collected myself enough to flee the scene, grab a shower and head to North Yakima Street's annual yard sale day. Found myself at Fort Bender for some Pacifico and chatted with Kate and James. The Crossbones' freshly recorded demo rocked as background music. New singer Buzzy lays it out. A quick stop back home and a snappy '30s style embroidered top and black slip later and I was off to catch Lance Buller & Stephanie Porter's  show at Jazzbones.  I admit it. I ate too much. Sun, beer and pasta got the best of me. I had to retreat for a nap before Hell's Kitchen's late night festivities.  Post Stardom Depression's set was one of the most entertaining I have seen in years, and that's putting it mildly.  Thank you, Junior, thank you.

Happy Birthday to Pretty Boy Sean (he'll be floating around Olympia) and all the Cancers out there. Be safe with the bombs and rocket launchers on the Fourth, my pretties.  The emergency room when you're drunk is like hell. Ginger knows.