This is the worst thing I’ve seen all weekend.

Scolari’s Office is being sold to the owners of Bar Dynamite. It will close in two months and undergo renovations for three to six weeks. After that, I can’t imagine ever seeing the same shitty bands, lowbrow crowd or fantastic drink prices there again. Picture a single tear gathering in the corner of my eye before silently sliding down my face and dropping onto my lap.

(A special shout-out to the octogenarian we saw there before the end of 2007 with the hairpiece, stunna shades and portly El Cajon streetwalker.)

PS: It’s not actually the worst thing I’ve seen all weekend, jeez. That honor should probably go to the 60 Minutes report on rape as a weapon of war in Congo.

As I predicted, San Francisco was fantastic. Our chariot left San Diego around 9pm and we hit Annie’s party in LA a couple hours later. Those of us who were not driving helped ourselves to a couple beers while we caught up with old friends (hadn’t seen Eugene since Troy’s going away party, and now he’s off to host Southeast Asia’s version of Next Top Rock Band). Both potty breaks on the drive north involved all three occupants of the car simultaneously clamoring out of the vehicle and onto the side of an off-ramp, yelling or grunting the entire time.

Troy treated us to an amazing dinner at Delfina on Saturday night (I’ve never had more tender, delicious lamb, and I worry that I never will again), and Jasmine and I had delicious baked goods from Tartine for breakfast on Monday. Both eateries are good reasons to fall in love with the Mission District.

Much love for everyone who joined us at Casanova Lounge to usher in the new year. I hope you all had as much fun as I did.

Last Thursday night Mike, Wu, and I stopped by Josh’s place near SDSU to help out with a Happy Graduation keg, but we only managed a couple rounds of flip cup with the youngsters before the police came and ‘encouraged’ our departure. From there we headed to the Waffo Boutique grand opening, which was surprisingly fun. The DJ was all about Daft Punk and Justice as we enjoyed the open bar and tried to avoid getting beer foam spit in our face by the rowdy bar wench.

Saturday night was a blast, too. Every house party should have a tiny parrot content to spend the night on various strangers’ fingers.

There’s an anxious energy about North Park as the Georgia girls count down the days before they initiate the Great San Diego Exodus, and we’re doing all the usuals this week before everyone heads home for the holidays. Monday night we enjoyed what might have been the second-to-last Lady Dottie show at Tower Bar—rumor has it that they won’t be back in 2008. Last night, after my company party downtown, the crew assembled for karaoke at Scolari’s. Of course. Good job, team. Good job, singers. See you at Live Wire tonight.

New Year’s Eve in San Francisco is going to be epic. I’m looking forward to the drive up with the guys—Nobel Manor, united!

Long time no update. Whoops. Time flies and all that.

I last wrote while I was home for Thanksgiving, and I’m happy to report that I managed another four or five turkey/cranberry/stuffing sandwiches before flying south back to San Diego. As we had planned in the weeks leading up to the holiday, my doting mother sent me off with ziploc bags full of extra fixings which I ’smuggled’ onto the plane. (We were worried the stuffing would be mistaken for C4.) I’ve made four heavenly turkey sandwiches for lunch so far, and it looks like tomorrow’s shall be my last. I’m sad to see them go—the withdrawals are going to be calamitous.

On Monday night, team MEN 4 EVER crushed the competition at Scolari’s Office Trivia Night. We couldn’t have done it without such a well-rounded squad. The girls covered celebrity fashion lines and the periodic table, Mike and O’Donovan handled video game music, and I had female anatomy on lock (natch). A portion of the winnings have already been converted into supplies for tonight’s pre-December Nights cider.

Epilogue
Foods consumed during the course of December Nights: Filipino, Iranian, Columbian, and fried grasshoppers. Also a large assortment of mulled wines, hot toddies and glog (grog + eggnog). Excellent.

Halloween has come and gone, and, as is traditional, all we’re left with is a collection of embarrassing photos. For my failure to brainstorm a costume, I had to resign myself to the whims of the Georgia girls and ended up wearing a lacy, tattered gown, pearls, a smidgen of fake blood, a blonde wig and a plastic tiara. Aside from the hairy armpits and farmer’s tan, I was indeed the spitting image of Princess Di.

The next night was TNT, which was as underwhelming as I’ve previously experienced. Thank goodness for novel company and subsidized beer! Randomly meeting one of the directors of the 30,000-strong neuroscience conference later on at the W hotel was pretty funny, too—he was plastered and trying to coach along our chess game.

Brian Lio was in town that weekend, and we ended up in Mexico for dinner on Sunday. I came home with a belly full of lengua and tequila, with a handsome bottle of Cazadores Añejo to enjoy at my leisure.

My travel plans for next year are firming up and I’m starting to get giddy. There’s even a countdown timer embedded on my computer’s desktop at work.

We had a nice week of brisk weather, but it has since returned to the mid-seventies and I find myself wishing for more moisture. Even being rained on during last Sunday’s 30 mile ride was a pleasant change of pace.