SUMMER ENDS & I GET A HOUSE

So, I still haven't sorted out the other disk of holiday photos yet, but I had a few on my camera and some ones of my new apartment, so you can look at those to tide you over while you WAIT, on the edge of your SEAT, for more pictures of grand canyons and stinking hot deserts.

We were somewhere just north of Sacramento when the drugs began to take hold. Some scappy kid was hitchhiking at the side of the road, and I said "let's give the boy a lift". But Brian was all "What? No!! We can't stop here! This is bat country!"
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We drove from Portland to San Diego in a couple of days, staying on the Interstate 5 for most of the way. It's nice enough until you really get into California, then it's hellish dry valley farmland for ever, with huge trucks all over the road and the worst rest areas ever. Where I'm pointing is about 2 hours north of San Francisco, and it's right in the middle of the worst shit. Actually, it literally smelled like shit now that I remember. For a while it smelled like rancid oranges, and then it smelled like putrid pukarific animal shit. I didn't breathe through my nose for an hour. Guano! Bat country!!


Well, long story but we were going to stay in a lovely campground just North across the bridge from San Francisco. The campground was full, so we were driving to another one when Brian put the car in a ditch. He had actually turned-out to let some fast dude go past, but he turned-out like a speedster, and ended up with two wheels on the road and two in a ditch. It was kind of impossible to move the car. We called triple A (like AA but with another A because America likes to be more extreme) after getting a ride from a local to somewhere with cellphone reception, and blah blah blah but after various misadventures and half-a-beer in a divey and possibly anti-tourist bar, and after someone yelled at Brian that "San Francisco's that way!!!" a har har I guess he looked too URBAN or something, we got pulled out of a ditch by an angry tow truck driver and the volvo was A-0k. We drove to a beach that the local woman had told us about, and slept in the car after quaffing bad wine from these crappy expandable camping cups that I had become obsessed with. Hard times, I tell ya.


Then we woke up at the crack of dawn and drove back towards civilization, and we were still all sleepy-eyed and saw all these ELK. Hanging out by the road like they were the bosses.

Driving towards San Francisco and the bay bridge appears as does the city behind, and I was like "San Francisco is the best city in the WORLD!!!" although maybe I just meant the most attractive city in the world, but anyway it's true that I totally love it. We ate big apple fritters from Bob's donut shop, and I seriously can't remember what else, but was good. Then we drove home and the car was being an arsehole, and then we were back in San Diego which is more pain than anyone deserves.


Not only back in S.D., but also living in my goddamn STUDIO for three weeks while we looked for an apartment. Uurgh. Two people in one white cinderblock room. It was fine and all, but I sure as hell didn't get any work done.

Plus there was nowhere to SHOWER because the pool makes you pay over the summer, so we resorted to hosing down in the courtyard outside the studio. NOTHING TO SEE HERE - JUST ME 'N THE PLANTS!!

Woah! So this almost looks like Brian is a hip architect designin' something while sitting in his crazy-tiny apartment. Right?? Or maybe it just looks like my sad LIFE. This is my kitchen, people.

Actually, THIS is my kitchen. After looking at a grand total of one apartment, we applied for and got it pretty much straight away. It's kind of the only place I wanted to live in San Diego. And here I am making mini lamingtons (!) from scratch for our housewarming party. People were very impressed even if they didn't fully grasp the cultural significance.

This is the LIVING ROOM. Nice wood floors but notice all the BROWN AND ORANGE everything. Why??? I didn't intend it to be this way. I mean, it's good and all, but a little formica wouldn't have gone amiss. The problem is that people in San Diego have shitty taste, so all the stuff in thrift stores is shitty in turn.

Looking towards the kitchen from the living room. I only included this shot because it shows Brian wearing baggy jeans and jandals and looking like a rugger.

The little cute half-a-table just inside the kitchen. All that alcohol is what people left after the party. Including almost a full bottle of Bacardi. I've had more rum in the last week than any time since 1998.

The stoop. Stoop stoop stoop. Inside that gate to the left is the very melrose place-esque courtyard. It has a fountain. A faux spanish style fountain. Mmm hmm.

And the long view. I wish I lived in the weird bell tower thing. Oh well...