Things!

The CBGB awning, now at the R&R HOF.

John Turturro is Frank Zappa.

Bathroom decor.

Andrew tried to fill the tank for a couple minutes. Then he
selected a fuel grade and proceeded to actually fill the tank.

This poor woman walked/was walked into the men's room!
It's a recurring theme on these trips, apparently. And as
expected, her helper promptly threw her in front of an
oncoming Kevin Spacey.

That's some Big League Bullshit.

That's a hot dog.

Not pictured: Ry Cooder.

UsTunes

Andrew and I are driving. He bought a truck. It has a CD player. So he bought about 361 CDs. We've been listening to them. 

Day 1 (Becket, Ma. to Cleveland, Ohio):

1. Bodeans

2. REM

3. Little Feet

4. Black 47

5. Counting Crows

6. Ry Cooder (not to be confused with Wry Cooter, which is something else entirely)

7. Juliana Hatfield

8. Kenny Wayne Shepherd

9. 10,000 Maniacs

Some of these artists seem to be obsessed with hidden tracks -- including Black 47, which had a Track 47. We're not to the end of the current CD; I'm really hoping we don't have to sit through 9,986 blank tracks to find a hidden trackiac. 

The sound system is good enough. The CD player cooks the CDs. Andrew fears it might ignite the truck.  We'll have to plan the soundtrack accordingly. Thinking death metal or folk to accompany an exploding Ford. 

Also, Andrew is blogging. Here: http://aoransky.blogspot.com

From Whitehorse to White Horse

Whitehorse was a city in the Yukon. Still is, as far as I know.

The White Horse is a bar in Allston, Ma. Seeing as how this was my first trip back to New England in eight months, it only seemed appropriate that we get the trivia band back together. 

So Don, Kate, Jeneen and I hit the White Horse, as our normal trivia hangout hosts on Mondays. This wasn't a Monday. So we didn't go there. 

Anyway, we played. And played well. But some other team went cray-cray and perhaps only missed one question the entire game. Still, we (team "Ice Road Sucker") finished second. In the money. Boo-yah. 

UConn!

No Whale for me.

Got to BDL late Tuesday night. As expected, shops were closed. No Whalers gear for me.

Got to mom's house in Storrs even later Tuesday night (Wednesday morning). As expected, house was closed. No shelter or lodging for me.

But the Yukon to UConn portion completed successfully now it was!

What else happened on Wednesday...

Got to Storrs in serious need of coke. I mean Coke. Zero. Sheesh. Opened mom's fridge, saw the mini-can, gasped and cackled with delight. It's sort of sick. But amusing.

I drove my own car for the first time in eight months. Got in, forgot how low it sat. Slightly lamented the somewhat spartan-ness of interior compared to my LA ride that's not really mine, then kicked it into gear, plowed through the manual transmission and remembered how much fun my car is. And I cackled with delight.

Oh, mom had new siding put on the house! Cray-cray with a different color.

Separatisting in style.

Back to the car. Got it washed. It needed it. It's all shiny now. But the car wash employees are a little creepy.

Later I went to my buddy Scott's son's surprise bday party. We played Mario Kart 64. I dominated. The first game, at least. Oh my!

Ah, and lest I forget... Yukon to UConn (I didn't take this pic. Well, I took it from a website, actually):

Back, back, back, back in the U.S.ofA.

Sunday night in Vancouver. Crazy early flight back to L.A. on Monday morning.

Why fly back to L.A. when that's where Laurel ultimately is heading, anyway? Because I only have one day back there before flying to Connecticut and hanging out a few days before driving back to L.A. with Andrew.

Bring it on!

Vancouver has bridges.

I want this.

I have no freakin' idea.

OK, tiene mi atencion. Now what?

I got back to Los Angeles late Monday morning. Bro Mike, despite being annoyed that the Yanks took two of three from the Mets, picked me up at airport and dropped me off at home. I might have napped, definitely did some errands and hit the gym despite barely being awake (OK, I don't think I napped), contemplated going back to Mike's to do laundry but instead decided to take all of my dirty clothes to mom's house ... in Connecticut. 

Also, Mike's car is kaput, so I drove "my" Lexus over there late Monday night and he took me back home. Then I once again Lyfted it to LAX. And once again, my driver was ... OK, it wasn't awesome/crazy Barry. It was cool/chill/friendly Scott. Who indulged my tales of the origin on Connecticut's unofficial "Nutmeg state" nickname, and actively engaged me in conversations about the Whalers. 

It rocked. 

We also talked about whether relegation could work in the U.S. (I tend to doubt it, but it'd be fun), whether a Dodgers World Series win would put Don Mattingly in the Hall (I tend to think so), and how Scott never has been to the Northeast. He needs to go there. 

I am going there. These things are not related

OK, you want to know the Nutmegger story? People used to trade nutmeg. That's the gist. The interwebs have more. Ask them.

Sushi!

Winter Olympics, Vancouver. 2010. A band of four from Yahoo! Sports ventures off into the outskirts of the city, searching for a hole-in-the-wall sushi joint. In a small strip mall, we find it.

Best sushi I ever had. And crazy cheap. 

Fast forward five years and again I'm in Vancouver. I shoot ol' Yahoo buddy Jeff P a note, saying "where the sushi at, punk?!" -- or something to that effect. Turns out it's on the same street Laurel and I are lodging at. Craaaaazy. 

So we go get sushi. It was de-lish. Can't quite live up to legend I built for it, and I think it's more expensive now. Of course, 5.5 years ago I was gainfully employed and expensing many of my meals, so, y'know, there's that. 

But worth the trip.  Laurel devoured veggies and stuff. The unagi  I had. was ridiculous. I even had some random, non-sushi salmon dish -- tasty! Even better when I figured out which parts were and were not edible. 

That last sentence autocorrected to "we're not edible." We can just keep telling ourselves that...

Tunnels

There were some tunnels today.