Don Bauder 3:30 p.m., Jan. 25
Diary of a Diva
Why had they come? Why had we not been warned? We’d been sharing dishes, tasting drinks; they were laughing and spitting and double-dipping. What the hell?
Twelve hours, three epics, and eight meals later
“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” Even wannabe geeks like me can raise a glass of the Elven-made miruvor to that.
Brian insisted I download another game called Geometry Dash. I did as he requested, and he excitedly gave me a tutorial. Cool Aunt Level: Unlocked.
What Christmas tastes like
I cut in to mention that David is an avid amateur cook who loves to “bring it” for any culinary occasion, but that when one of our guests is a professional chef he pulls out the stops.
Snaggletoothed Barb gives Mom something to laugh at.
Mom’s place is where I’d want to be during the zombie apocalypse. We could survive for years on all those boxes with pictures of balanced meals on the front, along with the words, “Just add water and heat.”
Bloody mandoline. Dinner delayed.
“It’s a good thing it happened to that thumb. I mean, if you’d cut your right thumb? Buttoning your pants, holding things, writing? That would be the worst — you use your right thumb for a million things.”
Sadness at a gay wedding in Point Loma
“It’s sad for her dad. I feel bad for him. He’s the one being deprived today. Most parents just want their kids to be happy, and that’s enough. But this guy, he’s robbing himself of this moment.”
She explained how students bounced around, frequently switching partners. “It’s, like, ‘Hi, how are you? Here’s my chest,’ okay, boom, ‘Hi, how are you? Here’s my chest,’ over and over.”
Barb asks the flight attendant for rat poison.
“I wouldn’t usually mind if we were going to a vegetarian restaurant,” I said as David pulled into the lot. “But for the few days we’re here, I’m reluctant to order anything but beef.”