Congrats to Danny and Tiffany, who got married in the "Wall of Death" at a bike rally at Soap Lake, Wash. They got married by a dude who tattooed Danny's hand the following day.
If you know Danny, this makes perfect sense. If you don't, the confused look on your face is probably valid.
In between photo sessions, Sergio has taken up playing guitar. He's gotten quite good over the past few weeks and can strum his way through most popular songs.
His friend Julian brought over his electric guitar and poor excuse for a drum kit so we now have a shabby band set up in the garage. It's fun.
After dinner yesterday, Sergio went into the garage to practice guitar and left Amanda and I to chat. Just moments later we heard a genuine yell from his direction.
Sergio stormed into our room with a concerned look.
"Dude, I just got f$!?ing shocked by the guitar!" he said. "My whole body is shaking. I'm really freaked the f$!? out! You have to see what's going on."
Amanda and I put on our slippers and followed Sergio into the garage to investigate.
Sergio refused to pick the guitar back up, so I timidly picked up the guitar and turned on the amp. I played the guitar with no shake, rattle or roll of electricity. Amanda touched the guitar. Nothing.
"Dude, I think it's fine," I said. "Try again."
Sergio stepped up to touch the guitar stings again and jumped back in sincere shock. I busted into laughter while skillfully playing a "Twist and Shout" chord progression, subconsciously inspired by Sergio's reaction.
"You are some kind of mutant freak, dude!" I said in between gasps for air. "You have some electric superpower or something! Ha!"
Humor had escaped Sergio, who insisted he was having muscle spasms in his legs. He had begun sweating, nervous about his unwanted powers. Practically panting, he said, "I might have to go to the hospital. I need to look up what the f$!? this is all about on the Internet. What the f$!?, man!"
With the energy of John Lennon's wail "Well shake it a baby now!" Sergio fled to his trusty computer.
The scientist she is, Amanda noticed a dissimilarity between the three of us. She said that she and I were wearing shoes while Sergio was barefoot. From this we determined that the outlet wasn't grounded and neither was Sergio, which was why he felt the shock that we hadn't. We went back inside to explain the hypothesis to Sergio.
By this time, he was absolutely frantic and likely envisioning all of the little pieces he'd be chopped into at some lab to determine the source of his super-human electric energy. Amanda explained to him the "Rubber Sole" hypothesis and he bought into it as it might save him from life in a test tube.
Sergio put on some shoes and proceeded back to the garage. He picked up the guitar and turned on the amp. He strummed the guitar. No shock, just a G chord followed by a sigh of relief signifying that he once again felt normal.
He celebrated with a Shins song.
Yesterday I ironically wrote a post titled, "Preparing for the worst."
Just hours later we had "redundancies" at my office.
I was fortunately spared from the storm of layoffs, but many of my friends were not.
What's bittersweet is that I can call these people friends, not just colleagues.
So, I'm hoping the best for them and whatever their futures hold.
"Paranoia, paranoia. Everybody's trying to get me..." sung Harvey Danger in 1998. I was ending my freshman year of high school and I was pissed. Someone had just stolen my cell phone. Earlier in the school year someone had stolen my Nike gym shoes. Those punks weren't just jackin' my stuff, they were jackin' my swagger.
Fast-forward to today. I (fortunately) haven't had much else stolen since then except for that time when Wesley and I were robbed on a night train somewhere in Slovakia. Still, the same song plays in my head... "Paranoia, paranoia..." That's what being a homeowner does to you, I guess. It makes you I-need-pills paranoid.
When I was in high school, even in college, I didn't care much about the security of my possessions. That's probably because I didn't own much and what I owned was inexpensive and easily replaceable. How much could a Walkman cost? More importantly, I wasn't entirely responsible for my possessions. My parents were. They'd make sure the windows were shut and the doors were locked. They would make sure the garage door would close all the way. They would spot me the cash to replace what was lost or stolen. In college, I was sure that my possessions (like my health) were covered under my parents' insurance. I was carefree.
Now I'm in charge of/own just about everything, and that means I have to worry about everything. Are the cameras insured? Are the windows locked? Did the garage door shut?
My concerns were only reaffirmed by The Stranger's "Burglary Boom" article. If burglaries are up 49 percent year over year in West Seattle, Tacoma's got to be in the triple digits.
Lucky for me I have two Crime Stoppers for roommates. Amanda can hear sonar, I swear. Sergio undermines that whole scenario of "getting robbed while you're at work" because he only works out of the house about every two weeks.
Until we break the budget for an alarm system, we're about as safe as we can get, and I know that. I actually expect that we'll deal with some kind of theft no matter where we live because it happens to everyone and the state of the economy lends to increased crime.
For now, I'll just float in my paranoia and keep the doors locked.
Fabrizio.
And his girlfriend.
I feel like Amanda actually took both of these. I'm not sure about the top one, but I know she took the bottom picture. She's becoming a monster with the camera.