The two of us kicked the bottle in no time, before the apps were done. Tending towards orange in color. Dense. We ate it with some cheese, two blues, a midnight moon, honeybee gouda, a mature tangy goat. One of the blue cheeses was very blue and the other was creamy. The very blue one brought out bitterness in the wine, overwhelming it. Tasted best with the creamy goat. Fruit and Mineral. Thick. Very enjoyable. The Wine Club, $18.
Photo by Chris Shaushkin
To be funny you have to always put yourself out there and try to laugh. And sometimes things aren’t funny or you aren’t funny or both.
What if when you die and Saint Peter asks your occupation and you tell him you’re a comedian, he sends you down the hall to the patron saint of comedians to review your final joke to see if it’s funny? And if it’s not funny you go to hell. And if it’s funny you get to live again and go back to earth to smoke crack with the other comics.
And if it’s not funny, imagine that. For trying to bring light to darkness. I tell the absolute worst jokes to the nurse at the doctor’s office just trying to get a laugh before they knock me out and cut me up. So they’ll think, he’s funny, let him live. I’ll say to the nurse have you heard of the man who asked the doctor why am I sick and the doctor said because you deserve it you’re sick, you’re a sick person, your mind is sick and now your body is sick. God help me, if I die right now I’ll go to hell for this crappy joke.
Why is YOLO associated with crazy stuff like: “drove all night YOLO,” or “bungee jumped from a bridge YOLO”? Why not, “I got married and had a family because YOLO.” I made up this joke, YOLO.
Last night. A Boulevardier cocktail with vintage service at Jack Rose Libation House, Los Gatos. We went to celebrate Nami’s birthday.
Happy Fourth and Happy Birthday Nami.
If you’re happy and you know it,
Clap your hands,
God knows why.
If you’re happy and you know it,
Clap your hands,
Not anyone knows why.
If you’re happy and you know it,
Then your face will surely show it,
Because your face is a mirror to what’s inside.
Over the weekend they added bike lanes to the bridge over San Antonio Street. Two weeks ago I encountered a road crew and blogged about it here.
As I approached the bridge two young guys were riding across with cargo bikes. It was forecast to be 100 degrees out and these guys wore dark jeans, t-shirts, and baseball hats. They carried no cargo, but the bikes were heavy. They had a hard time getting up the hill. One of the guys dismounted partway up, and walked his bike to the top of the hill, in the bike lane. I rode past them.
