Not a Breakup, Just on a Break

Our relationship went strong for five whole years.  We shared a common madness that flourished and grew as time went by.  But like many relationships built on a foundation of self destructiveness, an ever growing level of toxicity began to creep into mine and Jesse's lives.  Our infatuation with the beautiful temptress Oktoberfest started showing signs of decay, and the past couple years brought with them just as many regretful experiences as joyous ones.  It takes a strong willed person to recognize a floundering relationship and walk away before someone gets severely hurt.  Jesse and I will always reserve a special place in our hearts for Oktoberfest, and perhaps one day our paths will cross again, but until then we have decided to see other people.
  

Each Oktoberfest Jesse and I recruit new people to join us on our beer fueled adventure.

The mandatory turkey leg left a strange taste in our mouths this year.

Half Moon Bay was a welcome change from the hell hole that is Downtown Campbell.  The Art and Pumpkin Festival boasts shorter beer lines, better artwork, friendlier people, and a greater variety of music 

There is no greater thrill than wieners sizzling on a grill.

Half Moon Bay is a Giants town to the core.

Check out the nose.  I rest my case. 

Steroids work on pumpkins too.

Trying to watch some football?  Just plop your lazy beer soaked carcass down in front of the giant television.

This little guy's drum game is strong.  

As we reflect on all of our fond Oktoberfest memories, we eagerly await making new ones in Half Moon Bay.

 

As I Lay me Down to Sleep...

whose Instagram shall I creep,

Kevin had best not make a peep,

the chips in my stomach bounce and leap,

this drunken slumber's dark and deep,

I am the wolf, they are the sheep!

Halloween is near my friends.

All subjects photographed without their consent and knowledge. 

There and Back in a day, The Chico Story

Much like how Paul Simon sang, "I've reason to believe we all will be received in Graceland," and early American settlers firmly believed in manifest destiny, I have long felt spiritually drawn to the great city of Chico California.  The better part of the last decade I have stood idly by and watched friends and loved ones make their pilgrimages to Chico.  Scheduling conflicts prevented me from attending some of these trips, while others I passed up because I didn't consider myself mentally, physically, and dare I say, sexually prepared for what lay in store for me.  Part of me wanted never to experience Chico so that I may keep its mystic alive in my mind.
Apparently all I needed was a weekday off from work and two willing traveling companions to change all of this.  On a whim, Riley, Jesse, and myself took a day trip up north to fill that empty space in my heart that was Chico.

Riley is seriously as raw as they come.  He is also a raw uncooked tube steak.

We stopped off in Yuba City to skate a "street plaza," but somehow ended up at this ancient ruin of a skatepark.    

Our first pint of Sierra Nevada upon arriving in Chico.  I swear it tastes better here than anywhere else on the planet earth!

The Bigfoot Ale door opening device is perhaps the greatest bathroom invention since the hand dryer.  Although I still love the hand dryer. 

Mini taster beers ensure that you won't get totally wrecked, or they help you decide what is the appropriate beer for you to get totally wrecked off.  

Chico skatepark is a whole different type of bizarre, and do not even get me started on the Loccs there.

With a couple beers in him The Raw Hot Dog can accomplish anything.  He managed to sneak us into an Atmosphere concert for free.  Even after building up Chico in my mind for the past six years, it far surpassed my expectations.  

 

August < September

Summer's untimely demise at the cruel hands of September never ceases to leave me feeling bewildered and betrayed.  The nine month of the year is one hell of a buzz kill.  If august was a house party then September would surely be the police knocking on the front door.  Luckily August brought nothing but joy and mirth, so feast your eyes on these photos as you brace yourself for shortened days and term papers.

I hadn't been to a painfully bro'd out kegger in quite some time, and I was quickly reminded why (it was actually pretty fun.)

P Love had August completely locked down!  On B's last day in town we dropped some serious tube meat on the grill.

Daryl graced us with his presence and somehow managed to squeeze in a month's worth of activities into one afternoon. 

James got all weird on some jellyfish.

When you've got these two on your porch you know it's going to be a good time.  Or maybe just prepare yourself for some noise complaints.

An odd mix of people ventured off to Monterey for the First City Festival.  Strange times were shared and friends were made.

Taco Tuesdays at Tommy's has become a beautiful ritual.  On this particular evening Fnan convinced the terrified looking blonde haired woman's boyfriend to buy us a round of shots.  

The Giants have been getting it together this month, so come to think of it, bring on September baby!

  

The Condom/Card Experiment

Here at The Clog, we pride ourselves in developing new ways of unnerving the general public, while still maintaining credibility and class.

Our latest breakthrough in human social reaction and repulsion involves placing a package of condoms to be rung up with a birthday, get well, Mother's Day, or other sentimental card.  We are looking for the cashier's reaction.  Will he or she be puzzled, disgusted, or amused?  Perhaps the cashier will be unfazed by the strange combination of checkout items and raise not one eyebrow.  Try it it for yourself, and report back to me.

A Farewell to March

I had a slew of photographs stowed away in my iphone, patiently awaiting their chance to share the story of March.  Unfortunately due to recent events, I no longer have a phone, and the visual evidence of this past month is simply a tangled web of memories shared only amongst those who lived them.  I blame the majority of this on April, a revengeful month, eternally envious of its younger brother March.  Yes that is correct, I curse the month of April.  This pathetic excuse of calendar space has robbed me of my phone, vanquished the final rains of winter, and now taunts me with blistering sun rays and chocolate bunny rabbits.  April's jealousy of March is sickening and I pity it.  I have had weeks more eventful than this entire month!  I have experienced single days that dwarf April!  

     As a way of paying tribute to March, I have put together a short yet poignant video.  

Ps.  No offense to Mom and Dad, who both were born in April.  Happy Late Saint Patrick's day.

Will the Real Ray Charles Please Stand Up

In some horribly tragic news, Leonardo DiCaprio once again failed to win the ever elusive Oscar...

And Fnan is still without a Grammy, despite a prolific career behind the piano.  Here at The Clog, we take it upon ourselves to give credit where credit is long overdue.  This video collaboration does both of these underappreciated artists justice.