The Hose

Evil

WEEKEND AT BIGHEAD'S

Traveling for work is sucky, but the one cool thing is staying the weekend in California. I was pumped for the weekend because baby, I had big plans. Unfortunately, my Well Profiled Friend cancelled her CA weekend trip sort of last minute. Oh well. I wasn't going to let that stop me from having a kick ass weekend tho. Enter Plan B. Unfortunately, my little PhD friend from Berkeley cancelled also because it's the start of spring break and she decided that she'd rather go camping in Joshua Tree than hang with me. No matter, because I am a dynamic person. Enter Plan C. Unfortunately, My Maniacally Overworked Friend (MMOW) cancelled because she's tied up with a new product launch. Damn. What now?

I had two choices for Plan D: sit in my hotel room and cry -or- hang with Big Head in the East Bay. It came down to a coin flip and the coin said to hang with Big Head, so hang with Big Head it was.

Clownery started on Friday night. First up: Golden State Warrors vs. Houston Rockets. The arena was nearly packed and 80% of the people were there for the visiting team. That's right: Charles Oakley in a Rockets uniform. (Mark Jackson too! Jeff Van Gundy and Patrick Ewing on the coaching staff!) Too bad Oak only played 20 seconds. 0 points, 0 boards, 0 assists, but a whole lot of toughness. You can't put toughness in the box score.

After the game, we went in search of food. Someone decided that Korean would be a good idea. After putting away 13 little appetizer dishes, 1 bi bim bop, 1 spicy chicken bbq, 1 bulgogi, and 1 fish and egg dish, all parties admitted to having an unhealthy relationship with food. We then proceeded to look for bubble tea as a dessert and actually found a place, but the asians in there gave us dirty stares so we blew outta there.

Back at Big Head's Oakland Hills estate, we watch Sportscenter and promptly pass out from either exhaustion, food guilt, or both.

Saturday morning: two guys stagger to the driving range. One guy is wearing a giant coffee stain on his shirt. The other guy is wearing a tshirt with cutoff sleeves and showing some big guns. The dude in the pro shop gives us a squinty stare. This is what happens when two ill-dressed dudes show up at a posh golf club. Whatever. I go to the ball machine and proceed to dispense 100 balls directly onto the ground. (Damn! Forgot the bucket!) Balls go bouncing and scattering everywhere. A guy with a stained shirt and another guy with a cutoff T are running around chasing golf balls. Everyone at the range turns and shoots glares of disgust. No one asks us to leave, which is a win in itself.

Back at the Estate, we watch School of Rock on DVD and I have an internal monologue about making a porn parody called School of Cock. It would involve young girls in private school uniforms. Now that's a winner!

Unfortunately, I had to leave Sunday afternoon and miss some grilling action at the Estate. Big Head apparently has a gay hanger-on who chills at the estate in exchange for certain services, like cooking and preparing a very involved marinade for grilled ribs.

I'm just going to trail off now and pretend that I actually wrote an ending....