Thursday, July 14

GG met me at the Boneyard in time to catch Sea Jayne Trip do a killer version of beloved Afghan Whigs' song "My Curse," originally sung by Scrawl's Marcy Mays in '93, but Tiffany handled the vocals well. I hope there'll be more of that. GG and I made our now weekly Thursday night pilgrimage to the Monsoon and drank them out of champagne before trekking back to The Palace to watch "Fat Actress" and sling back sweet, cold saki. Kansas dropped by for some intellectually stimulating banter, and I'm pretty sure I saw Go Music duck in to swipe a Rockstar out of my fridge.

Saturday, July 16

A trip to Tacoma's downtown public library to see the "Beautiful Angle" exhibit before they took it down was inspiring. I love what those crazy wheat-pasters do and stand for. I thought I'd seen all of the posters, having many in my private collection, but of course there were some I'd missed. When did the library become Fort Knox? Two security guards were checking people one by one to use the restroom and then checking the restroom when they were done. Seems the library is on high orange alert. Thanks G.W., for keeping our potties safe for the homeless to use. A late lunch at Over The Moon with Bria and Deana was nice and relaxing, and then off I went for naptime before heading across the bridge for steak and movies with Heavy E. The movie, "Troy," was interesting, not great or bad. I'd like to know who Achilles' hairstylist was and how he got those great surfer highlights just right.

Sunday, July 17

What possesses both guys and chicks to get together with our ex's for drinks? In this case, it was not disastrous .  We met at E9 for cocktails and then headed to South Tacoma Way set on eating somewhere new.  We ended up driving and talking till we hit Olympia. Lakefair was going on. The town was packed. The exception: Ruby's Café and Grill. Shaded, cool and quiet was the perfect way to guzzle cranberry champagne martinis and Alaskan Amber before walking down Fourth Avenue for some grub. Dinner and cocktails had gotten the best of us, I realized, noticing that everyone was intently trying to look like they were not listening to our conversation of sex, drugs and local music. Ouch, time to get The Italian and me back to comfy T-town where no one looks at you twice for being a loud talker, except maybe to ask if you're holding or getting the next round whether you know them or not.