This weekend I ventured with Moos and Jenny halfway across the state to visit Moos' hometown of Prosser and attend the 26th annual Prosser Wine and Food Fair in the heart of Washington wine country.

Prosser has to be the smallest town I'd ever spent time in, but I've got to say that it was very cute and quaint, with wide streets and well-manicured homes. There's not a heck of a lot going on "downtown" (the block with a restaurant and two bars), but the Wine and Food Fair (appropriately named) kept the weekend interesting.

In nearly ideal weather, blue skies and high 80s, we strolled around the corner from Moos' home to the Prosser High School's football field, the location of the fair.
We bought our "scrip" (Prosser language for "tickets") at the gate, which was the currency for purchasing wine from the vendors. Tickets were 50 cents a piece and two tickets bought you a half a glass of wine. We spent $20 each. Do the math. We got hammered. Red wines, white wines, champagne, oh my!

On our way to Hangover-Headache Land, we ran into several college friends. God knows why I know so many people from a town of 5,000.
And oh did that wine catch up to Moos, turning her into her alter-ego, VonDrunk.
More pictures from the weekend are here.

I've had to be on Microsoft campus for meetings quite early these last couple days for some important meetings, and the stress really showed last night...

After working 7 to 7 yesterday, I crashed on my bed when I got home. I woke up and saw that my clock read 8:15. Ah! I freaked out because I had to be on an uber important call that I was supposed to hosting at 8 a.m. this morning at Microsoft. I jumped out of bed and put on jeans for no reason, only to get from my room to the bathroom. Moos was in the bathroom when I frantically exclaimed that I needed to get in there to hop in the shower.

Moos immediately jumped out of the bathroom, puzzled as to why I was so distressed because it was 8:15 p.m.

I had slept for just more than 30 minutes and I was thrown off by the daylight being too similar between the morning and evening. Later, Moos, Katrine and I came to the conclusion that I must have been sleepwalking because the whole scene is a little hazy in my memory and, after Moos told me that it was the evening, I crashed on the couch and fell back to sleep.

We had a good laugh about it, and I made it to Microsoft on time today for that call, thank God.

You may or may not have noticed my link to The Secret Diary of Steve Jobs. If imitation is the truest form of flattery, then parody must be holy. For more the last 14 months, tech enthusiasts have become enamored with the anonymous blog and that fakes being the personal blog of Apple mastermind Steve Jobs.

How could you not love Fake Steve Jobs calling Bill Gates "Beastmaster," claiming "Suing me is like suing God," and calling fans of the open-source operating system Linux "freetards"?

But late last week, NYTimes reporter Brad Stone uncovered one of the blogosphere's greatest secrets the identity of Fake Steve Jobs. According to the NYTimes article, he is ironically Forbes senior editor Daniel Lyons.

Upon being identified, Lyons said, “I’m stunned that it’s taken this long. I have not been that good at keeping it a secret. I’ve been sort of waiting for this call for months.”

Lyons also came clean on this blog post, in true Fake Steve Jobs fashion:

"Well, tip of the hat to you, Brad Stone. You did the sleuthing. You put the pieces of the puzzle together. You went through my trash, hacked into my computer, and put listening devices in my home. Now you've ruined the mystery of Fake Steve, robbing thousands of people around the world of their sense of childlike wonder. Hope you feel good about yourself, you mangina."

He also encouraged people to use Brad Stone's name (in part or whole) as a creative verb, suggesting...

Brad Stone(v):

1. To bust a fellow filthy hack without mercy and spoil the fun for everyone, in a quest for personal aggrandizement.
2. To urinate in a pool.

Don't you see why I love this guy, identified or anonymous? He speaks my language.

I meant to regurgitate this last week when I found it while "sweeping through Microsoft coverage." CNET News.com reports that "researchers" at the University of Texas-Austin have identified 237 reasons why people have sex. The list is boiled down to four major factors --physical, goal-based, emotional and insecurity-based.

According to the study, "Men showed significantly greater endorsement of having sex due to physical reasons...and simply because the opportunity presented itself. Men more than women reported having sex as a way to improve their social status. Finally, men exceeded women on endorsing a variety of utilitarian reasons for sex."

Women exceeded men on only three of the 237 reasons: "I wanted to feel feminine"; "I wanted to express my love for the person"; "I realized that I was in love."

Among the reasons that subjects gave for why they had sex:

• I wanted to feel closer to God.
• I wanted to get a promotion.
• I wanted to feel connected.
• I wanted to keep my partner from straying.
• I wanted to have a baby.
• I wanted to give someone else a sexually transmitted disease.
• I wanted the attention.
• I wanted to break up a rival's relationship.
• It seemed like good exercise.
• I wanted to defy my parents.
• I wanted to change the topic of conversation
• The person was famous and I wanted to be able to say I had sex with him/her.
• I wanted to end the relationship.
• I wanted to communicate at a "deeper" level.
• My partner kept insisting.
• I was bored.

Strangely not listed: "I met a guy named Paolo."

Bad news, good news and not such great news about Kurt Cobain's legacy.

In the bad news column, I learned from Sound on the Sound that Nirvana's entire "Nevermind" album will be featured on the latest Wii guitar game, Rock Band. While another, more popular video game series, Guitar Hero, has earned credibility amongst most folks (except real musicians, who prefer playing real instruments), Kurt should still be rolling over in his grave about this commoditzation.

Of course, put Courtney Love in charge of your catalog and estate (She reportedly made $50 million selling 25% of Nirvana's song catalog in 2006) and you get what you deserve. More recently, she gave some "collectibles association" permission to use Kurt Cobain's likeness on tacky stuff like lunchboxes and key chains.

In the good news column, Love says that she'll be auctioning off most of Cobain's remaining memoriabilia. Good news for collecters and music enthusaists who know she doesn't deserve to sing a Nirvana song.

"I'm going to have a Christie's auction," Love tells Spinner. "[My house] is like a mausoleum. My daughter [14-year-old Frances Bean] doesn't need to inherit a giant Hefty bag full of flannel fucking shirts ... A sweater, a guitar and the lyrics to 'Teen Spirit' -- that's what my daughter gets. And the rest of it we'll just fucking sell."

And finally in the not so great news column, filmmaker A.J. Schnack has made a new film called "Kurt Cobain: About a Son." The indie, scheduled to screen and film festivals this fall, is a "moving meditation on the late singer" culled from 25 hours of conversations between the singer and writer Michael Azzerad. According to the Seattlest, it features Cobain talking and a score by Death Cab for Cutie and Postal Service frontman Ben Gibbard. R.E.M., David Bowie and Iggy Pop are slated to be on the movie's soundtrack.

Why is this in the not so great news column? Well, because every other Nirvana or Kurt Cobain movie has sucked. But perhaps this one has hope. See the film's trailer below.