Take me home to your religion for the night

We went bowling last night after nacho nite again. Pat and Aaron from BuyOlympia came as well, and it turns out those git-dang mofos actually know how to bowl! Pat (the vegetarian, no curly hair) even has his own shoes and ball, which he didn't bring because he didn't know we were badass bowlers up here in Seattle.

They also didn't know that when you bowl at Leilani Lanes, you have to do it in front of murals of giant bowling sperm:



It really will be such a shame when this place closes in a couple months and is torn down to make way for condos. I'm paraphrasing here, but like Laurie sez: "Condos everywhere! I love condos! Just like Chicago! Woo, condos!"

I'm way too tired, (and verging on — but not quite! — hung over) to be coherent, so I will let the pictures do the talking:









. . .

I was talking to my friend Guillermo this morning about Douglas Coupland over tea. Rather, just I was having tea, he was having Coke, but nevertheless, we were still discussing Douglas Coupland. In any case, he was telling me about JPod, the new book coming out in May. It sounds interesting, as I quite enjoyed Microserfs, but I haven't read any of his other books.

Contrast this with Guillermo, who is semi-obsessed with Mr. Coupland and has read all of his books except Microserfs. I was asking him which Coupland book I should read next, and he said, "The first one I read, was Hey, Nostradamus I think."

And I was astounded. I thought he was into Coupland for years, seriously, not a year and a half. The funny thing is, I kept insisting that he was lying and in fact had loved Douglas Coupland for years and years.

Me: I'm not crazy!
Him: You're not crazy. But a year, maybe year and a half, tops.
Me: No way!
Him: No, really.

And so forth and so on.

. . .

We briefly considered busting out the DV camera and iMovie action to slap together something for entry in the SIFF (deadline: today!), but 30 seconds of actual thought kind of put that out.