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The Sunset Beach Diaries, 2013 Edition

We got up at 3:45 yesterday morning. That’s not the impressive part though. We had gone to bed at close to midnight the night before, and then lay mostly awake through those very few hours trying to sleep through the sound of the dog clock in the neighbor’s yard. This dog literally barked once per second for over an hour. A true canus tempus. I wanted to kill him in the face. But we were energized by vacationalistic excitement, and thus were able to get up with no problems. Then I set about to making Bloody Marys for all of the day’s travelers. Well, except for the kids, of course. Duh. They drink whiskey sours.

By 5:15 we were on the shuttle (all seven of us) heading for the airport. At the end of the three-hour flight, the stewardess announced congratulations for Bret and Danae who are getting married on the beach. I know. Copycats, right? They’re even getting married on the same slice of beach as we did nearly four years ago. Major rolleyes. But then the flight attendant had us do the wave. Very nice.

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Public Transit: A Gloryhole for People-Watching

I ride the train to and from work on most days. Well, I should say public transit. Because part of my trip sometimes involves a bus. In the past I would have thought that only poor and homeless people used the DART buses around here. Boy was I wrong. A couple of guys from my work ride with me, and this one really classy, foxy woman rides our bus too. She’s always reading on her phone. These aren’t the only non-homeless people on the bus. Just the ones I care about. But it has nothing to do with being poor. It’s actually to do with being smart, and wanting to free up your hands to use your time the way you want. I get to ride and read instead of drive and cuss. Anyhow, I don’t think I’ve actually ever seen a homeless person on the bus. Now the train, on the other hand…

But I do ride the bus for part of the trip because it gets me closer to my building. I have a nice little walk up the hill when I get off the bus. But taking the bus (and the train for that matter) every day makes for some interesting encounters with humanity. And since I’ve now been riding for about seven months, I’ve seen some very interesting people. Let me tell you about some of the most interesting encounters:

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Jesus Made the Jack Bees

It’s hard to believe the summer is coming to a close already. Well, technically I guess it already has. Have you noticed how quickly the years fly by when you get older? It seems to me that only a couple of weeks ago, the State Fair was selling all things fried. Well it was a year ago. Which tells me I’m getting old. I saw a sign the other day (more…)

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SpaceBrew Review: Love and Other Drugs

Now here’s a movie that needs a nod. I rented this movie based solely on the title and the rating it had on Netflix, thinking it was a chick-flick, and my red-haired wife and I could enjoy it together over caramel popcorn and bourbon. Now see that, ladies? I am a man who is not opposed to renting something I think my red-haired wife will enjoy, and watching it with her. I’m quite a catch, if you think about it.

Anyway, this is a fairly original storyline, not too overdone, and pretty well written. A young woman (Anne Hathaway) is diagnosed with Parkinson’s and runs into a young man who has just gotten into the pharmaceutical sales business. Think Steel Magnolias or Philadelphia. But see, it’s not really a chick-flick. It’s more of an emotional drama that should appeal to anyone with a heart than just to women. Well, it should also appeal to any red-blooded man who wants to see Anne Hathaway naked.

Seriously, and I know you’re not going to believe me when I say this, but I had no idea she got naked in this movie before I rented it. I think I might have seen that she was in it, but I actually clicked the Add to Queue button before I even read up on it. Like I said, the title made me think it was a chick-flick. But boy does she get naked in it. A bunch. And we haven’t seen her breasts since Brokeback Mountain. Which means all of you homophobes who are too cool and too manly to watch that film have never even seen them at all!

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Tales from a Repo Man

Thursday night when my phone rang and a friend asked me if I could do a favor, I said yes. But I had no idea it would make for such an interesting weekend, and with so many stories. Of course, some of those stories are better told in person than in writing, so they won’t be mentioned here, but overall, it made for a very entertaining and interesting weekend. Will you allow me to tell you about it? Good. And there’s your opening paragraph.

So the call I got from a friend, who shall remain nameless (and genderless) called to ask if I would run up and repossess a vehicle for him/her. Well, I’ve never been called the Repo Man. And the only experience I have with repossessing a vehicle is when my truck got stolen when I was in the service. I came back home for a weekend, discovered my pickup had been stolen out of my dad’s driveway, and went and got it back. I happened to know where it was, who was likely to have stolen it, and so I got it back. But I’m not really much of a repo man. Well, I wasn’t… until yesterday.

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Area Man Refuses To Grow Up

So I had a birthday party Friday night. This isn’t very peculiar. However, there were a few items of interest that do make that list labeled peculiar. First of all, as most of you know, I’m almost thirty now. So let’s just for ease of conversation, say that I am “twenty-seven” now. And then allow me to elaborate on those items I found peculiar.

First of all, I had a birthday party. That in and of itself should not be viewed as out of the ordinary. I wanted to have a few friends over, listen to some music, stand around and drink beer and tell each other war stories, and compare tattoos. Without necessarily taking our shirts off. It’s not even really all that odd that there would be a cake for me. I mean, well, actually I specifically told Haycomet not to make me a cake. But she wouldn’t have any of that. “If I make one for everyone else, of course I’m going to make one for my partner in rhyme.” She does have a valid point. So thus, I had a cake at my party. No candles, of course. But there was a cake. A ridiculously extravagant cake, no less. A Cake. Capitalized. One that someone might have paid perhaps upwards of a couple hundred dollars for. So what was so odd?

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Bacon Talk: Breasts

Good morning, friends. Welcome to Bacon Talk: our award-winning weekly segment, where we get together and discuss whatever’s on our minds, over a hot pot of coffee and a greasy plate of bacon. Really, can you think of anything more perfect? I think – excuse me. Uh, Haycomet, please make a note to remind me to get with Butch and Bruno after our talk. I want to go ahead and have a balcony built outside the 23rd floor conference room windows. I’d like to have bacon outside next week.

Sigh. Okay. Sorry about that, readers. Anyway, here on Bacon Talk we’ve been covering some really ground-breaking topics that are both newsworthy and relevant to your lives in a way you and I can’t really begin to express. Yes, friends, we do listen to our readers. And we do talk about the very things that make you happy. Because making you happy makes us happy. And when SpaceBrew is – okay, I’ll shut up.

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  • Reading time:12 mins read

A Spacey Definition of Fashion

Have you ever gone through your closet and just looked at some of the clothing you have in there, realizing that some of it is actually quite old? Well I did this the other day. I looked through all my nice clothing, all the Structure and Z Cavaricci fashion I have hanging on my closet poles, and realized that I haven’t bought new clothing in quite some time. Now I have plenty of new t-shirts. Seriously. But yeah, my double-belted purple slacks and other fine couture articles have been hanging in my closet now for close to fifteen years. I clearly needed to go shopping.

I mean, don’t get me wrong – I’m not wasteful. I will still wear my purple Z Cavs on occasion, because they still look really good. I only wear them on special occasions – not when I’m changing my oil or digging French drains in the backyard. So there’s no point in getting rid of them. But I felt like I could treat myself to some new fashion. It’s been a long time. It’s time for a trip to the shopping mall.

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Phone Call Gets Area Man Laid

Have I ever told you about how I lost my virginity? Well, it’s not the actual misplacement of my chastity that makes for an interesting story. Obviously, I could go into details about what happened in my pickup that night down by the lake, but really – you’ve probably heard very similar stories already. And heck, you may even have one of your own! Suffice it to say that it happened, and certain parts went certain places just like you imagine, certain motions were made (as were certain faces), then I very kindly told her she needed to get out of the vehicle and find a way home. I also explained to her that if I did indeed find her undergarments somewhere in the vehicle, I would mail them to her at a later date. See, you’ve all heard the story, and I’m not really interested in trying to prove to you that I actually did, in fact, get laid. Trust me. I’ve got two kids. I’ve done it a couple of times. :haw:

Anyway, the interesting story here is the events that led up to the main event, so to speak. How did you meet your first lover? (cheap date, one-night stander, whatever you want to call him/her) Well here’s how I met mine.

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I just got my FACE rocked off.

Seriously, dudes, I have to tell you about our night Friday night! Okay, well – okay, well hang on. Let me catch my breath. It’s Saturday morning here – well, feels like morning, it’s actually well after noon – but I got my damn face (and most of my ass, neck, thighs, back and arms) rocked the hell off last night. Son of a bitch. Okay, let me back up a little though.

I was sitting at my damn desk at work when the HR director came up to my desk and said, “Hey, yo, Space. I got these tickets, dude,” and gave me four tickets to Nickelodeon Storytime at Verizon Theatre. And yes, they spell it with the tre instead of the ter. Idiots obviously don’t know the difference in the definitions. Anyway, yeah, we took the girls to the theater to see the Backyardigans and Dora the Explorer on stage and all that. They loved it, of course.

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