Work Product, Example No. 7

"Happiness belongs to the self-sufficient".
-Aristotle

There is something incandescently peaceful and pleasant about riding your bike in the early hours of the morning that makes the 5a.m. wake-up altogether worthwhile. The feel of marine layer against your skin, the slight breeze in your hair and the constant cyclical motion pushing mile after mile of asphalt under your tires... it's no big surprise that after two years I am still trying to get used to the unhappy fact that I live in America, but at least now I live in a part of the country where bicycles are commonly regarded as a means of transportation. A region where Critical Mass is alive and well and as controversial as it should be. A city where cycling 18miles to work is a common occurence and packing groceries into a backpack is granted a small smile from the cashier. So I guess that's one great thing about Huntington Beach.

NEWS: The iPod ban on our office has now been lifted. After a solid week of nothing but the click-clacking of keyboards and the inane chatter of the co-workers to keep my ears company, I can now tune out the office and happily work along to the euphonious wailing of Karen O. (and yes, the incessant Yeah Yeah Yeahs tangent is still alive and well).

Might check out Oktoberfest this weekend, visitors pending. YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS: kartoffeln puree, sauerkraut und brezel!!! Accordionists from Wurzburg! 80yr old contortionists! BIER!!!

The Voyeurs were awesome last weekend what with their cheesy antics and fantastic waistcoats, I highly suggest them. They're playing Alterknit tomorrow night with The Dirty Hearts out of Austin, Texas (and when has the Austin music scene ever steered you wrong?). Looking for something to do? GO CHECK THEM OUT, YO. Doors at 7:30pm, $8 day-of.

P.S. Drawing bicycles is loving difficult, kids!

The Great Gift Basket Excavation

As promised, here is the photographic documentation of the Great Gift Basket Excavation. Enjoy.

The Gift Basket: so pure. Untouched. Soon to be raped.

I am very excited about this basket. In no way let the deadness of my eyes and the large fake smile attempt to fool you.

If only there were some way we could neatly open the basket...OH WAIT.

(complimentary scissors so that we may neatly open the gift basket.)

We excavate without waking up any undead mummies.

The Spoils:

1 box Crisp Light Crackers1 box Saraivanov Smoked Salmon

1 jar Saraivanov Caviar1 box Cassil & Klein Caramels

1 box Hathaways Caramels (same as the Cassil & Klein)

1 box Cassil & Klein Biscotti

1 triangle Cassil & Klein Cranberry Twist (trailmix)

1 pyramid Hathaways Sour Cherry Candy Drops

1 box Hathaways Old Fashioned Candy(coffee hard candies usually found in geriatric pockets)

1 box Hathaways Citrus Gems (squares of gelatin wrapped in a light sugary coat)

2 tubes Bonbon au Chocolat

1 box Dolcetto Wafer Rolls, Tiramisu flavour

1 box Aaron Bell Candy Berries

1 box Macadams White Chocolate Pecan Shortbread Cookies

1 box Brown & Haley Almond Roca Buttercrunch Toffee

1 container Toffee Peanuts

1 box Pretzel Crisps (suspiciously similar to Southwest Airlines pretzels)

1 bag Aaron Bell Pistachios

1 box Los Olivos Wine and Cheese Biscuits

1 box Aaron Bell Seasoned Crackers

1 triangle Camembert

1 container Dagoba Cacao Powder

1 bottle Chateau St. Jean Merlot

1 bottle Chateau St. Michelle Sauvignon Blanc

1 bottle Summerfield Cabernet Sauvignon1 pair Scissors (complimentary)

I won't lie, it's a lot of things one would find in a hotel minibar. Plus a pair of scissors.

So then Whitney and I decided to try the caviar.

Being the champ/thinkforherselfer/general person of AWESOME that I am, I went first.

(I will not be doing this again anytime soon.)

Whitney went second.

(I somehow doubt that she will be trying caviar again anytime soon, as well.)

I mean, it wasn't BAD, per se. The texture was odd and upsetting yet still doable, but then the pressing thoughts of the overall tininess of the eggs and their ability to slip down the back of your throat (funny how reproductivey things have the ability to-- nevermind) was upsetting. Caviar, as I would assume, is made up of dead fishy eggs, yes? But even then, some weird subcortex of my brain begins to wonder, "What if they aren't dead? What if little tiny fishies begin hatching and swimming around in my insides, their only way of escape through my urethra?! STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED!!"

On a related note: Plans for the Great Foofy Wine Party have begun being drawn up. Expect to dress nicely (dresses, ties, etc.) and drink your weight in wine until Bacchus gleams with vintneristic pride.

Mayday! MAYDAY!!!

Happy May Day all! Today's the day we celebrate the beginning of the Pagan summer!

Everyone: Take a bath! It's courtin' season!

Ladies: Don your white virginal apparel, braid some heather into your hair and grab those flasks of wine! The Men shall come a callin' and you must be prepared!

Gentlemen: Go erect a Maypole on the font yard of the young Fraulein you fancy! Fret ye not if there already be a Maypole erected by some other forward thinking lad. Simply build a bigger, slightly more phallic Maypole to show the "extent" of your love!

Afterwards: Meet down in town for some good ol' fashioned feisty Maypole dancing!

Schönen Maitag, Freunde!

Someone: Show a girl some love… Maypole? Anyone? Bueller?