Everybody sees Dennis Rodman….

Damnit, we wanted a good celebrity sighting… not a freak-o-sighting… but I guess you take what you can get. We saw him in the parking garage of Triangle Square in Costa Mesa when we went here. We were parking as he walked across and got into his tricked out truck. No big. I got to sigh and tell folks that’s the same celebrity my niece spotted in Hawaii at a club when he was still with Carmen Electra. Anywho… we don’t know where he’d been, but the joint we hit… The Yardhouse(.com) was pretty happening. Took us over an hour to get in, where we enjoyed $20-30 a plate items and the largest selection of draft beer. Food… excellent. The website says “good food – classic rock”, but I’m wondering what California thinks classic rock is because that was the loudest, most thumping techno music I’ve ever tried to talk over. Not a real breast or real nose in sight… and there were plenty in plain sight. I think we saw two girls that were trying to share what should have been a single shirt. Marc’s comments were hilarious… first “I guess she didn’t know that fabric would shrink in the dryer” and second “I could never live out here as a married man.” He went on to say, “I’m the traditional type. My wife and I go out to eat, that’s it. We don’t do clubs.”

Oh well.. I babble beyond belief. I’ve just learned so much out here that I didn’t know. Like… “waffle batter”… what they call “those fat chicks who are too big to wear low pants, then when they wear tight shirts they get ooze around the sides like batter when you close the waffle iron.” I guess I should legally change my name to waffle batter, then. Every other damn ad on the radio: plastic surgery center or “try our new carb blocker.”

In better news… it’s been fun. Team building through alcohol and smartass higher-up bashing has worked well. Last night I suggested we all go get a tattoo to remember the week…. but we were just not in the right part of town (yeah, that’s why we didn’t go). Gonna be sad to see these people go home. Michelle is cool as heck and well, Jason will be missed, too. In short, he’s 40 lbs lighter (six-pack), crazy tan, decent haircut, he drinks alcohol now, and biggest wonder of all, he’s engaged…. to a girl. =) Will wonders never cease?

Well, the slave driver is here. The over-stressed man who was a catholic school teacher in a former life, because all he needs is a ruler. And seriously… the entire week, nothing but shades of long-sleeve, solid-blue, button up shirts and shades of slacks ranging from black to charcoal. Prior to moving to L.A., he lived in New York and worked in the music industry. His buddy wrote the HBO theme and the NFL on FOX theme. He drives a “beemer”. He wears black Drew Cary glasses. But despite the “hip” exterior, he was a nun in a former life, and will be doomed to be ambiguously gay and single in this one, which will likely end when that throbbing vein in his forehead finally pops, right? Right? Oh, and did I mention he ends all his sentences… well, he doesn’t SAY sentences… all he says are questions because everything ends in right, right? He shows up at the hotel and starts talking business at 7am, right? And then he has no concept of when lunch should be or dinner, right? He took starving people he had just worked from 8 am to 8 pm to a brewery/club/restaurant where there is nothing to do for the hour wait but drink beer on our empty stomachs and then has the nerve to make a comment about how tricky it will be to expense the $300 tab that shows so much alcohol. And we care why, right?

Well. I’ll shut up. If I don’t stop I won’t have any stories left to tell when I get home (like the Nick Nolte spotting). Flying all night, layover in Salt Lake City, and should be back in the ATL by tomorrow morning, where I am seriously behind on some JamesT harassment and will have to make up.