No New Complaints from the Ingrate Gallery

At least, none great enough to warrant a voice on the Plague. For the most part, I think this weekend was the best I've spent so far this summer, and I can definitely say without a doubt that I was sad to see it pass by with such speed.
To quickly recap: my lovely Jerrod came to visit me for the long weekend all the way from Massachusetts. After thoughtfully mulling over careful plans I'd made to take him to San Francisco to see the neat little ferry market hall with the organic honeys and mushrooms, I basically threw everything out on a whim, after realizing that some of the best times we've had together have been spent simply walking through various outdoorsy places or looking at things not made to be bought (though some will say that each and everything has its price). As such, we spent Saturday afternoon strolling through the Berkeley botanical gardens and chatting, which really was quite nice despite the all-too-neatly cut trails detracting slightly from the "authentically woodsy" effect. So sue me, it was the best I could think of on short notice, given the lard-assed city slicker I've grown into. Don't think that I'm not ashamed for the fact that with all the great hiking I'm sure there's to be had around the bay area, I couldn't think of anywhere to take my boyfriend besides some very pretty pre-made trails in a closed circuit. I chalk it up to years of complacency with Chinatown shop-browsing (I dare you to tell me what I can't find in Chinatown), a childhood spent, for the most part, away from dirt, and the fact that in all the time I've spent in California, there has never been a time when my parents did not know, or did not have at least a partial influence on, where I was at any given point and when I'd be home. Suffice to say, wrangling the car for the afternoon was a chore in itself, given the stream of distrustful comments my mother made about my driving before letting me out the door. I still can't believe that a little plastic card from the California government isn't enough for my mother to lay the hell off - but then again, all the other choads on the road in El Cerrito have that plastic card too (see Mother-Loving DMV, Take II). Look, if I don't feel comfortable driving, I wouldn't be driving with one of the most important people in my life as my passenger. End of story. No need to instruct me again and again to let Jerrod take the wheel if I feel uncomfortable in the car. Hell, if I were a man, I think the proper phrase at this point would be "why not just neatly package my balls and have me carry them in a purse?" Now if only there were an equivalent phrase for females...
Eh. 'Tis but a small pimple on the grand buttocks of life, and my weekend. I like big butts and I cannot lie. The afternoon spent in the garden with someone I love was wonderful, and the detour on the way home to this neat little shop on Solano called the Bone Room was quite amusing. The Bone Room - herein referred to as "The Steve Place," complete with a gorgeous live 12-foot albino snake for a store pet - had essentially everything from little pewter skull beads, to the giant rubber rats used at Legends, to a pretty goth girl fixing things in the window display (which inspired a rousing chorus of "How Much Is That Goth Girl In the Window?" from Jerrod and myself in the car later on). And of course, bones. I'd actually be shocked out of my pants if you didn't already know about the place, Steve, it looked like the owners designed the store according to specific Feng Shui instructions you gave them whilst lounging in a lawn chair sipping chardonnay.
After an afternoon spent out of the house, Jerrod and I decided not to spoil a good thing, and thus we spent the evening out of the house as well. Once again, here and now, I'll admit to having watched yet another chick flick - and what's more, I'll even admit to having instigated it! What can I say? My boyfriend was in town, and I was more in the mood to spend time with him than to really pay attention to what we were spending time doing. And so, I put away my usual "I like action flicks" mentality and even enthusiastically suggested we watch a chick flick, as occasionally I do happen to enjoy the ones that Jerrod picks (Stealing Beauty, starring Liv Tyler, for instance, is now one of my favorite movies, thanks to Jerrod). Thus, for lack of anything better to watch (Spider-Man 2 was sold out, and Soul Plane wasn't out yet ;-P), Jerrod and I went to see the movie The Terminal (no, all you morbid readers out there, it's not about a patient), which thankfully was not nearly as much of a chick flick as we'd both anticipated it would be. I dare say it was even fairly entertaining - especially the jabs it takes at Homeland Security. And so help me, I thought the airplane-food-service-guy-in-love side plot was creative and sweet.
And if you ask me whether I saw the fireworks on the 4th of July - the answer is "no, I got drunk and started a fight with Jim because he called me "snack-food" but somehow managed to get confused and got into a brawl with Jerrod instead."
At least, that's how it went down in the Puzzle Pirates network game we were all playing that evening. Come now, everyone knew it had to happen sooner or later - Jerrod's been trying to get me to play for almost a year now, and I missed him so much this summer that I joined just so I could play with him. Of course, it wasn't until we roped my brother into playing the game with us that I actually got interested (every game's more fun when my brother's involved since there's the constant rivalry and insults). After finishing dead last in every game during our little "sailing expedition in search of booty to plunder (yarr)," my little pirate Tobiko sat down in his humiliating red-and-white stripeys to play 4-way drinking game with Jerrod, Jim, and my brother. Well, if there's one thing I can apparently do, it's win a drinking game. Tobiko, totally sauced, somehow managed to win despite Jim's pirate's steady lead. Of course, this victory incited the usual name-calling and fist-shaking that happens between Jim's character and my own, no matter which game we are roleplaying in. Both Jim and Jerrod's characters then challenged me to some sort of a duel, but because of my ample dexterity and coordination with the mouse and scrolling menus, somehow I managed to get into a fight with Jerrod's pirate instead of Jim's, which only further added to Tobiko's drunken humiliation (we're not noticing a pattern here, no...).
All in all, the weekend was truly a wonderful break from my summer in California, and seeing Jerrod again was probably the highlight of this entire stinking mound of a month. Everyone at work has told me "damn, you've got your boyfriend whipped, he came all the way to visit you from Massachusetts!" And now I've realized, that while I don't actually have him whipped (as pussy-whipping boyfriends is fundamentally against my dating policies), I really am one of the luckiest people alive, to have found someone amazing, kind, and caring enough to visit me all the way out here in California. So my advice to everyone is: don't settle for giving your love to just any old shithead wearing black - give it to someone who's willing to come all the way out to El Cerrito, California to spend a weekend with you, even despite the fact that you have asian parents. Jerrod, I love you.

For those of you who did not catch the Easter egg about big butts - I actually, in fact, like lean, pale, grabbable butts. And I cannot lie.

Further bulletins as events warrant.