In the haze of marijuana smoke and dreadlocks on otherwise adorable people, in the midst of earth-tones, Northface, and students indistinguishable from hobos, I sometimes forget what there is to love about Eugene. I needed a reminder, so I hopped on my badass bicycle (compliments of SKL) and took a trip down the North Shore bike path, stopping for a Ruby Ale (followed by an impromptu Terminator Stout) at McMenamins by the river. Eugene and I are on good terms once again.
Happiness can sneak up on you, but if you know the people I know, happiness will pummel you like an avalanche and the rolling laughter will send you down the hillside in a snowball of joy and love. Try to be sad when Randy Newman is blaring over the loudspeakers and you're sitting with Reed in Kemp's spittle, heads fuzzy from Stadium Club martinis. Try to be depressed when JR sings karaoke in an helium-induced octave at the best dive bar in Los Angeles. Try to stay bummed when you see two of your nearest and dearest bonding for eternity under a Palm Springs sun. Just try hating life as you fill your belly and soul with $6,000 of amazing cheese, mint juleps carried in vest pockets, Chris' stinging scorpion saltation, and the revealing of Bianchi's mad harmonica skillz. Try to be downtrodden when you spend over 2 hours dining in a cafe with rotating table guests and Huell Howser, after spending the evening shouting for John Barnacle to join your 5-person amoeba impression. Try to frown when you're drinking from a mason jar, feeding carrots to a tiny horse and leaving deer ornaments in the most beautiful pile of junk. Try to cry when you are unexpectedly handed mixed CDs from two of your oldest (and youngest) friends, spending the day in a tour van consuming anything delicious that pops into your mind. Try to stay sad when you are absolutely positive you are the most blessed person on the face of the earth.
In the haze of marijuana smoke and dreadlocks on otherwise adorable people, in the midst of earth-tones, Northface, and students indistinguishable from hobos, I sometimes forget what there is to love about Eugene. I needed a reminder, so I hopped on my badass bicycle (compliments of SKL) and took a trip down the North Shore bike path, stopping for a Ruby Ale (followed by an impromptu Terminator Stout) at McMenamins by the river. Eugene and I are on good terms once again.
