Some of the greatest beer offered in the Greater Seattle Metropolitan Area is brewed up by the Elysian Brewery located up on Pike and 13th on dynamic Capitol Hill � and think for a moment what that comment entails. We�re talking about a city that offers up such Nationally renowned �craft� breweries as Pyramid, Red Hook, Thomas Kemper, and Locally renown selections like Hales and Pike Place. Some of the Heartiest Beer I have ever tasted is made by Elysian.

Which is all the more reason the fare served at their Brewpub/Restaurant is disappointing. The menu is shockingly limp-wristed, obviously taking from its overly �liberal� neighborhood roots. Along with that, the waitstaff seems particularly light in the loafers, which all seems like a mighty disgrace for the establishment brings us such legendary libations as Cyclops Barley Wine, the Immortal IPA, Valkyrie Strong Ale, and Satan Stout.

As I was running my random errands this afternoon I stopped by Barnes & Noble in University Village, for no reason other than I like going there every now and then. Being a bookstore, and located near a particularly large Academic Institution, it is full of a larger-than-usual percentage of young, attractive females. This plays no small part in why I prefer this location; besides that, I can peruse magazines and books without shame and even � if the Fates are with me � find a nice comfortable chair to slouch into.

I made it no further than a quick scan of the magazine racks near the front entrance when my eyes fell upon the sight of a blonde beauty. Dressed in mid-calf high black heeled boots, and knee-length black skirt, and powder blue blouse which flatteringly showed her form, she was casually perusing the book-marks and assorted literature-related knick-knacks which occupy the nether-region between the entrance, checkout stands, and voluminous magazine racks. Her hair was done up in a conservative, no-nonsense, seriously academic tight braid against her skull, but it looked ready to be quickly released in a dazzling, uninhibited display of unbridled feminine glory, the sunny locks tickling the back of her neck and shoulders in a delicate but powerful display of passion and desire.

She seemed to sense my lustful glances, and I detected a sudden rigidity in her posture, an instinctual defense, that, although she never saw me, had indicated to her that she had become the object of some possibly sick and depraved fantasy of desire. Someone was trying to steal a tiny piece of her Ka to take home and use in some twisted act of masturbatory release.

I suddenly became sickeningly aware of my potentially predatory status, and decided to make a quick pass of the upstairs portion of the store, to feign a search and thus a reason for my being there, before quickly leaving, but not before stealing another glance on my way out.

Yes, everyone, I've heard about Brittany Spears posing nude for an anti-fur add.

It is well known (or at least I am under the impression that it is) you are generally able to get two (2) good, solid, mugs of piping-hot tea out of a single tea bag. So, is it a crime against Nature to only have one (1) mug of tea?

One thing has stuck with me about the waning moments of my awkward telephone conversation with an Officer of the Arlington Police yesterday.

I envision a desperate, nearing-middle-aged man, in the contented middle of his otherwise contributing career as a keeper of the peace in a sleepy town on the edge of Suburbia. One afternoon, he takes a disturbing phone call from a desperate young man looking for the �City of Arlington� representative who had called him the previous day. �I made a mistake,� the overly contrite young man insists, �in hanging up on the guy before hearing what he had to say.� �I would like to be cooperative in this matter, and get this nasty mess over with as painlessly as possible.�

The officer scans the files for a Jake/Jacob Reeder, and a Charity, or any other member of a Scott family, who this seemingly depraved young man can only offer �live in Arlington, out by the Golf Course.� He finds Nothing.

�Who is Charity� is she your girlfriend,� the Officer begins to probe. His honed cop instincts are screaming at him, and he sees a chance to be a Hero, to stave off another savage attack, to save a desperate Young Woman, who, having been brutalized before, is seeking refuge at her Parent�s domicile to escape an abusive relationship.

�Uhh, well�� I began to try to explain the story, then realize I can only bury myself by revealing too much. This cop�s instincts are serving him well, and he has all too well detected the truth, the only problem is, I had nothing to do with any brutal attack, or the Psychological Hell that was brought down on this sweet young lady as a result � in fact, I strongly felt I was merely a victim of her Mental Instability, and my own Neurosis mixed dangerously with hers.

�Look, I just made a mistake, and was looking to rectify it,� I said, obviously referring to my panicky hang-up the previous day, and after more probing questions from the officer, followed by my dodgy responses.

�What kind of mistake,� the Officer felt he was on to something, his voice suddenly caught an almost excited tinge, �did you do something criminal, did you do something you feel sorry for?�

This was getting dangerous. Officer Hero was looking to make the Big Score. I had to get out.

After another dodge and some pleasant exchange the phone call mercifully ended

Q) Is Nebraska really playing Miami for the BCS title?

A) Shockingly, yes, it�s true. I know, but, you see, Colorado has two losses and Oregon plays in the PAC-10, which, having no member schools west of the Rockies, isn�t eligible for National Title considerations. If it helps you sleep at night, remember that there really is no such thing as an NCAA division 1A National Champion in Football, it�s all just a hallucination brought on by bored, tired, old white men in suits.

This morning I discovered that the Toaster seems to have inexplicably gone Tango-Uniform. I was left to wonder if faux restraining orders extend to simple household appliances.

The Sonics just beat the Lakers� the previously only twice beaten Lakers� on the Road, without Desmond Mason.

This is a huge win. This will undoubtedly be the lead highlight on Sportscenter. So why don�t I feel excited� why do I feel bad about not being excited.

Back in the Sonics �glory days� of the 90�s, I lived and breathed the Sonics. As my college roommates will tell you, I would become engrossed in their games like my life depended on it. A large part of my life revolved around the Supersonics (and the Canucks).

They just beat the Lakers, and I just did a little celebratory dance with Greg, but the passion seems gone, or at least lacking� well, maybe I can get excited about them now.

And remember -- restraining orders are cool, but violating them is not.
---quote from Jon Glover

Well, I know for sure that the call I received yesterday was NOT from anyone affiliated with the City of Arlington. I spoke with a clerk who "handles such things" at the Court and with an officer of the Arlington Police (who no doubt ran a thorough background check on me as soon as I hung up the phone!) and no one knows nothing. I even went so far as to ask the receptionist at the city hall if outgoing calls are regularly blocked (I *69-ed the call yesterday) and she said, to the best of her knowledge, only calls from the police would be blocked, and she couldn't imagine an officer making a call of that nature and not giving a name or saying they were from the Police Dept.

My conclusion, although little short of wild speculation and vicious rumor mongering, is that someone, most likely a friend of Cari's, called as a hoax to try to put the scare into me.

Well, it looks official, I received a phone call from someone from the "City of Arlington" this afternoon, so it looks like the Restraining Order, lets call him REx, has been filed. Unfortunately, I don't really know what's going on because I hung up on the guy as soon I found out what it was about. Wow, if getting a job was as easy as getting a restraining order against you, I'd be a millionaire!

Have you ever had someone who just thought you were terrible and evil, but the troubling thing is you REALLY don�t understand why? Sure, you put your foot wrong a few times, probably didn�t act on your best behavior, and said the wrong thing at the wrong time. But you�d be willing to maintain a level of good feeling in the acquaintanceship just because you don�t like dealing with the anger and resentment and having to add someone to your shit list, but they just seem to think you are just horrible and wrong and psychotic, and you�re efforts to alleviate the negative emotion only add fuel to their fire and reinforce their beliefs.

Well, I�ve been threatened with a restraining order because of this whole mess my heart and penis got me into. I�m a little disappointed about the whole thing, to be honest.

I must post the following Public Service Announcement:
I take umbrage with people who
speed along the side roads around Green Lake Park, during their
afternoon commute, the same time it is heavily populated with joggers
like myself. I have been know to fuck with these people whenever
possible. Please do us all a favor, don't speed on the roads around
Green Lake. And this is from one of the biggest lead-foots around.

So, last night was Rich-fest, the official observation of Rich's birthday. I drank a lot of dark, heavy, winter seasonal beer, which means two things:
1) more drunk on less beer
2) the "beer dump" and "beer fart" effect the next morning is as doubled, and maybe even tripled
and I'll just end discussion on this topic right now.

So, the party was decent, although I found myself filled with that weird "why the fuck is my house full of all these people" resentment syndrome I get sometimes (most notably the last two Halloweens). It was still a great chance to see the "Tyler/Angie, Mike/Mary, Dang, etc." wing of people. I got drunk and spent a good amount of time acting like a cat, going so far as to sit underneath the ping-pong table and pounce on the ball whenever it fell to the floor, and giving people the "cat lovin'" head rub treatment (much to the chagrin of Justin&Margaret's friend Jen-- I mean Julie).

Today, this afternoon to be specific, was the first of many "Family Haulidaze" functions of this Haulidaze season. This one was at Aunt Jan's house in Gig Harbor and featured the "California Reeder's (my dad's brother's family). I sat in a corner most of the time and talked as little as possible, although I did catch up with the 'rents a bit. And yes, I did start sneezing towards the end, but that probably has to do with the fact that two kitties (Mars and Venus) live at Jan's house.