HOMETOWN HERO

Seattle native Apollo Anton Ohno, skated to his first Olympic Gold Medal of the Torino Olympic Games on Saturday Feb. 25. His speed and agility were also instrumental in helping the American men's team win a bronze medal in the relay. Ohno would leave Italy with 3 medals, 2 Bronze and 1 Gold, and he now has 5 total from the Gold and Silver he won in Salt Lake City.

January 2006. A great month, with some hilarious stories. See below.

NO REHEARSALS NO PROBLEM

January 14, 2006--CHICAGO "That is the CUTEST little briefcase!"

THE HABIT LIVES!

Dave and Mark star in The Drifters remake, while Jeff and Ryan are doing a Bud Light commercial, with Tommy in BATTLEFIELD EARTH 2! Man Wins Again!

The Habit is a comedy troupe that used to do meticulously planned shows in order to deliver the ultimate comedic punch. We were fools! Now we realize if we just wing-it, doing sketches that we already know are funny, we don't have to rehearse at all. I've never felt so confident in all my life. Hell, we weren't even on the same page half the time, didn't matter.
This was our third appearance at the Chicago Sketchfest, and we didn't really break out any new stuff. But there were great new bits every night and the audience loved it. Jeff Schell wins for best new joke. The show was tight too, far from perfect, but in year's past we've had technical difficulties.This wasn't about perfection, it was about laughing, seeing some old friends, destroying a young unsuspecting audience, and partying like golden-gods in Chicago.

NO TICKETS NO PROBLEM

Seahawks win! The Seattle Seahawks are going to the Superbowl!

Part I: Getting In

When I’m feeling bold I sometimes force my girlfriend to call me “Captain Fearless.” On January 22nd I earned that ridiculous moniker when I snuck into the largest sporting event to ever be held in the City of Seattle. After years of toiling in a fecund sea of mediocrity, the Seattle Seahawks had their best season ever and had home field advantage for the NFC Championship Game. I wanted to see that game more than anything, but tickets were unavailable.

A few months earlier I got a job with the Seattle Supersonics. It was a simple catering gig that allowed me to watch every Sonics home basketball game, and it provided me with some really official looking ID. The catering company also handled gourmet service for the Seattle Seahawks. My manager Michelle asked me if I could work the big game.

“No,” I said without explaining. I’m a huge fan; I can’t be bothered with work.

“We’ll all be working there,” she said in a room full of managers who all knew me well. Shit! I thought to myself. This isn’t going to be easy. I’m going to need a disguise.

The morning of the game I arrived at Qwest Field dressed in black pants, a black zipper fleece jacket, bowtie, tux shirt, and in my hand I brandished my most powerful prop: an apron. No one messes with a guy with an apron. I took long purposeful strides towards the back entry, where security and parking were controlling the passage of limousine and huge media vans. The first checkpoint was a breeze. Quickly I flashed my ID and strolled past the first level of security.

The walk down that back alleyway was excruciatingly long. It was nothing but security, police, media, security, police, and more security stretching into eternity. My heart was racing and I had thoughts of turning back, but that would be even more conspicuous. I panicked and bolted for the first door I saw.

“Follow him,” I heard security say behind me.

The door was locked.

I could feel someone coming up behind me, so I turned and faced the cop.

“Where’s the employee entrance?” I asked in the friendliest of tones.

“Right there,” he said pointing. “Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” I said with a nod of my head and walked on.

The security guard at the entrance was a slacker who didn’t even look at me. I entered the hallway. There were long tables with security officials with official looking lists for signing in employees.

“It’s me again,” I said, brandishing my apron and huffing like I had to go back to work.

“Go on in,” they said, and I was in the stadium. There was another level of check-in the first room I encountered. I bypassed it without resistance. No one questions a man who walks swiftly and looks like he knows where he’s going. I had circumvented levels 2-4 with relative ease but now I was lost in the catacombs of Seahawks Stadium. Walking past another dozen cops and anxious to get out of the hallway, I ducked down the first entrance I came across.

Unfortunately, it led straight to the field.

“Where ya headed?” Security asked me.

“Oh, I’m actually looking for the elevator” I replied breezily.

“Just head back that way,” he said “the freight elevator is just down the hall to the right.”

“Thanks,” I said turning around. Blam! A row of cops were standing between me and the elevator. I walked straight through them like Shawn Alexander at the line of scrimmage, only I used my apron as a blocker. “Excuse me gentlemen.” I said, and I made my way to the elevator.
A woman with a cart full of catering and banquet supplies was waiting there for the elevator.

“Are you headed to the club level?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Cool, I’m following you then.”

I knew from my Qwest Field contacts on the inside that there was a restaurant called the Stagecoach on the club level. My friend Janna the Dancing Bartender was already in the building, working some V.I.P. event in the suites.

On the elevator I zipped up my fleece jacket so if I ran into some managers they wouldn’t immediately rope me into working. Still, I knew this would be the most dangerous passage with a high possibility of being recognized. I got off the elevator and walked into the kitchen. No one said anything, I had an apron.

I saw a group of waiters at the end of the kitchen. They were grouped in the standard gossip circle. I recognized a few, but they were too busy bitching about the guests to notice me. Then I saw the coffee, and where there’s coffee there’s a door. I saw the entry way with “In Only” on the door. I entered.

Two hundred people started screaming.

“AAAhhhhhhh!” What had I done, I thought. I saw the big screen TV and the Pittsburgh Steelers had just scored a touchdown. Just then I saw my manager Michelle headed toward me. Quickly I darted into the crowd before she could see me. I made my way to the bar. I was now in the Stagecoach restaurant, an expensive club level restaurant. People pay well over $300 to eat and watch the game from this vantage point on the south end of the stadium.

“Where’s the men’s room,” I asked a lady with a Shawn Alexander jersey. She pointed to the back of the restaurant. I maneuvered to the restroom without being seen.

I slammed into the corner handicapped stall and sat down. So far so good. I took off my bowtie and put on my disguise: A black Seahawks snow cap worn low and a 12th Man button provided by the delicious *David Swidler*, as well as a pair of blue sunglasses provided by the amazing *John Osebold*. I’ve now gone from employee to super-fan! I text my best buddy *Ryan Dobosh,* and let him and my L.A. fans know that I’m in.

Before leaving the bathroom, I enjoyed the delicious brownies I had hidden in my apron, and I took a swig of the vodka that was posing as Aquafina. I don’t know about you, but when it comes to screaming for professional sports, I need a whole lot of intoxicants to get rowdy about men in tight pants. I kissed my apron for good luck and stashed it out of sight.

Part II: Don't Get Caught

Back in the restaurant, I saddled up next to a table by the window. The place was extremely crowded and I still had two hours to go before game time. I managed to get a table right next to the window, but I felt a little awkward standing all alone. Then a guy approached and asked, “Hey, can I share this table with you?”

“Absolutely,” I said, relieved that I can now share a table.

The man introduced himself as Fred. Fred is a driver for a fancy transport service; he’s about 40-years-old with white hair. He claimed he was given free tickets by the V.I.P.s he drove in. Fred was really uneasy and I didn’t believe his story. It’s unclear why he’s here, and he doesn’t know a single thing about football. He didn’t know what a running back was. He started stacking all his work stuff on the table. Jesus, this guy’s an amateur. We chat it up with a bunch of people and I get my picture taken with my disguise.

I had some time to kill and there were some clean plates on our table. I asked Fred to save my spot, and I helped myself to the $300 buffet. After stacking my plate with prime rib, crab, and a side of filet mignon, I headed back to the table. Fred’s eyes grew moist at the sight of my food.

“How did you get all that food?”

“It came with my ticket,” I answered confidently.

“Really,” he asked. “Do you think I could get some?”

I tried to tell him it wasn’t a good idea, without tipping my hand, but he went to the buffet anyway. When he came back, I ordered a Sprite and headed to the bathroom telling Fred to save my spot. In the bathroom I mixed the my vodka with the Sprite and finished the stash of brownies.

When I left the restroom I saw my manager Michelle only five feet away from me! I ducked my head and tried to hide in the crowd. It didn’t work.

“Excuse me,” I heard a female voice say in my direction. “Excuse me!” Shit, looks like Michelle saw me.

Not so, it’s a security guard, but Michelle was still right behind me.

“Excuse me sir you can’t have glass in this section.”

“What?” I said, “I didn’t know, I’ll just go back,” and I attempted to walk away.

“No!” she nearly yelled. “You need to stop right there.”

I froze, busted.

“Here’s a plastic cup.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said, pouring my mix into the plastic cup, and handing her the glass. I walked swiftly back to my table, the commotion had not caught Michelle’s attention.

When I reached the table, the area was nearly empty, though when I had left there were a least a dozen dudes around the table. Fred was there eating. Fred what did you do?

“What happened to everybody Fred?”

“Oh they just left,” he said looking guilty. “They were asking how I got the table, and how I got the food, and they got upset about something.”

Fred what did you say!

“That’s weird,” I said going back to my remaining prime rib. Fred was making me nervous.

Just then an angry floor manager with a walkie-talkie and a check pad rushed our table. She was a short haughty looking brunette who immediately went up to Fred, “Excuse me sir, there seems to be some sort of discrepancy about your bill, there has been a complaint from the guests.”

WHAT DID YOU DO FRED!

Fred immediately started pointing at me, “Well this guy told me it that it was OK to eat” That wasn’t true! I thought of defending myself at this point, but those two were going at it heatedly now. I just kept eating those crab cakes and staring out the window. The argument dies down a bit, apparently Fred is here under some extraordinary circumstances, but he doesn’t get a ticket or food for that matter. Fred was blaming me, and I’m ignoring these two trying to look cool as a cucumber as I gaze out the window at field goal practice. I was trying to decide if it was time to bolt or not, and I could feel my heart beating in my neck.

“Look,” she said in a concluding tone “No matter how cool this guy is,” She gestured to me, “he doesn’t work here,” actually funny story-- “You need to consult with us if you want to get anything. OK?!” She gave me a long glance and walked away. I needed to get out of here; that was way too close; I still had an outstanding bill and another Sprite on the way.

Suddenly, the Stagecoach restaurant was thinning out rapidly and the crowds I had hoped would hide my trespassing were vanishing. I was exposed bare with the awkward Fred flanking me at the table. The employees, having handled the rush were crowding towards the windows, to catch the first part of the game. My catering manager Michelle was now at the table directly behind me. I was fucked. I just kept staring out the window.

My soda arrived and I paid the lady with a big tip. I mixed up the drinks put them in a plastic cup and made a break for it. I took a long semicircular exit route, making sure to keep my back to Michelle.

In the hallway I encountered more security. “Where ya headed young man?”

“I need the elevator to the main concourse.”

“You’re leaving us just as the games starting? How did you get up here?” she asks.

“Oh I had tickets for the buffet too.”

“OK,” she said looking really perplexed, “the elevators are right there, go Seahawks!”

“Go Seahawks indeed!”

On the elevator was another security guy, this was now my 10th incident with security, would it never stop?

“Why are you going to the concourse?” he asked.

“I’m just meeting some friends,” I say.

“Cool,” we get off the elevator. I go to the entrance where from the windows above I had spotted some empty seats. The crowd is screaming and the game is about to begin. At the entrance an usher stops me.

“Can I see your ticket,” the usher asks.

“GO SEAHAWKS,” I replied and gave her a big Hi-5! Smack! I used this momentum to propel me out into the seating area, which is a madhouse already and it's full of smoke and fireworks. I rushed up to the row I had seen and I take the middle of five seats. Except I don’t sit down. No one sits down apparently.

Part III: The Game

I watched the whole game from that vantage point in the 20th row behind the end zone. The 12th Man was deafening. No one ever contested the five empty seats I had found. When I finally caught my breath and realized that I had made it, I also noticed that I was seriously blitzed. I hadn't been this fucked up since that time I fell in a bathtub full of jello meth. At half time I met my work buddy, Janna the Dancing Bartender, so I had someone to watch the game with. My conversations with Janna were really awkward. I was blasted, blazed, AND experiencing football euphoria, since we were already crushing the Panthers. She was only slightly interested in football and completely sober.

I screamed for four straight hours and only sat down twice. Once at half time and once to catch my breath. The crowd yelled all the way through 4-minute-long TV timeouts. When Tatupu got that interception I blew out my vocal chords and eardrums simultaneously. It was amazing to experience a celebration of that size and magnitude. The whole city was exploding with joy, and that stadium was literally rocking the foundation of the earth beneath our feet. I wished I could clutch every joyous moment and freeze it. The harrowing journey to make it in made it all the more precious. It was the pinnacle Seattle sports moment in my young life. Woo! Woo, I say woo! We’re going to the Superbowl baby! Woo, I tell you, woo! Woo!

So that’s how I saw the big game. Go Seahawks.

Now a fan's chronology:

LOS ANGELES-- Jan. 7, 2004

Luke and I watch in horror as the Seahawks get beat on the last play to the Green Bay Packers.

LOS ANGELES-- Jan. 8, 2005

Seahawks lose on the last play of the game against the St. Louis Rams. Photo courtesy the Ryduffalo Pinyon.

CHICAGO-- Jan. 15, 2006

Dave and I watch the Seahawks defeat the Washington Redskins!

SEATTLE-- Jan 22, 2006

Seattle finally makes it to the Superbowl after crushing the Carolina Panthers.

December 2005

november

dibs

October 2005

The Brothers from Seattle

Phantom Ship

Crater Lake, Oregon

CLAW!

Stop for me it's the Claw! Ryan Dobosh and I created this masterpiece many years ago in Seattle. I'm happy to report that this is now a graphitti movement in our hometown. I've seen at least 3 claws since I've been back, all of differing shapes and sizes. I love it when my ideas take off like that, however I want the credit above all. I'm obviously a little vane. When we saw pictures of this "artwork" in the paper we nearly freaked out! The caption read, "Vandals make a statement in Fremont, but what does it mean?"

It was just supposed to be funny, however the Claw is very powerful when it comes to crossing in front of traffic. When you're crossing an intersection, and the on coming traffic doesn't respect or understand your right-of-way priviledges, throw down a firm CLAW and start crossing. This is not foolproof, but it usually stops cars dead in their tracks. The claw lets them know you are flippin' serious about crossing this street. Try it sometime. The claw's the law y'all.

I need a new black pencil.

AUGUST- RETURN OF THE CLOUDS

August was my last month with the Santa Fe Opera, and I have to say I had a fantastic time. Lots of basketball, hikes, parties, drinks, dog fights, skateboard ramps, Opera, hitchhikers in front of the prison, what more could you ask for? After the constant heat beat down, the return of some huge clouds and precipitation was much appreciated, although missing the Leonids was a huge let down. When am I gonna be in the middle of nowhere in the desert in the middle of August during the largest shooting star display in North America again? Probably next year. (I know its October already, Sept. will be soon and sloppy)

Photo-linky-hook-up under construction. I'm sorry I'm still a Blogtard. This may work http://www.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=30106421/t_=24425183 its supposed to be 136 pictures from the Southwest.

Tent Rocks. August 15.

Everywhere you go in America, any strange rock outcropping is attributed to the evils of Satan. There's Devil's Tower, The Devil's Garden, The Devil's Backbone, Devil's Kitchen, Devil's Boots, Devil's Bridge, and the Devil's elbow to name a few. Less than a mile from my sister's place in Santa Fe where I stayed for the summer, there is a large series of wicked looking boulders that swirl with purple and gold streaky patterns. The place is littered with more petrified wood than any national park, and its landscape is festering with giant bulbous red sores. So I officially name this geographical wonderland DEVIL'S CRACK. It's on private land so beware of hics with shotguns. To get there just go down Turquois Trail til you get to that one dirt road, go left down the arroyo, past the carving in the rocks, under the barbwire, move aside the giant tumbleweeds and continue up the little canyon and you're there. Got that? (Actually for my Santa Fe friends I will give you a full illustrated map and directions soon). Look at Smudge, all pensive looking out into the distance from the ridge of Devil's Crack.

Joanna, Lieta, and I pause for drinks at the bar on top of Devil's Crack.

August 16. Dog Angel, Sister Lieta, Mom Jill, Girlfriend Joanna, and Dog Smudge watch the sunset from Devil's Crack.

The best part about the Santa Fe was the sky. New Mexico clouds; they slope and crash with the rain, or stack themselves miles high and bathe in the lathery late day apenglow. Outside of the South Pacific (which is just cheating and I know it) New Mexico has the best clouds and sunset. They're just so puffy, look there's one following me home. Hi there puffy, are you hungry? Good puffy.

Arches National Park Utah. This is where the summer's Southwest journey essentially began. Joanna and I thought our travel expenses would only technically cover 3 consecutive days, we didn't know we could stretch it out. Sadly we only spent a day here. I love the contrast of bubbly red rocks and stark white mountain tops. Southern Utah has the most dramatic landscape I've seen in America, and at this point I can say that I've seen quite a bit. Someone ought to wedge a small theatre between those huge red boulders (on private land of course), or just put a classy looking building for rehearsals or shows on top of one of those cliffs. People from all over the country would come. Destination theatres and concert halls are fast becoming the most successful live venues (Gorge, Coachella, Santa Fe Opera, Oregon Shakespeare, Red Rocks), people want to be entertained as well as say they've been to that marvelous remote place with that famous building in all the postcards.

Lake Powell/Glen Canyon Utah

Mea Culpa. Mea Maxima Culpa. Tonight I spoke to a friend, and she said, "Hey, your blog has been sucking lately," Which confirmed my worst fears- someone is actually reading this thing. Actually a few people have complained and I'm sorry. I have 5 legit excuses why I've neglected this sight and 2 B.S. excuses.

1. Travelling, I've been on the road a lot lately which isn't condusive to drawing or blogging.
2. No job. Job hunting takes a lot of time, which shouldn't be sent drawing or blogging, I finally got one today.
3. No home. Apartment hunting. I got one on Wednesday. A super cute place in Seattle's lower Queen Anne neighborhood.
4. No internet access. Got it today!
5. Moving. Boxes man, boxes.
B.S. 6. Hurricane Katrina and Rita. (I know no one loves you Rita, but I do, you destoyed real good baby)
7. Lack of inspiration.

Its over people. I'm no longer languishing in a world of indecision and transition, my only enemy now is cable television. Damn you Jon Stewart!

July in Santa Fe. Adobe style is the city mandate.

At the end of July, I flew to Seattle for Jeff Schell and Jen Vlasman's wedding. Don't they look beautiful. Little did they know that the evening would destroy the brain of one young man, ruin the career of another, and take the life of one poor dumb bird. (Check Ryan Dobosh's account of the evening for further yuks)

Check out the old boys from The Habit comedy troupe. On the left is my best friend Ryan who would later betray and expose me on the web-o-tron. Next is Luke "$30,000 KFC spokesman" Thayer. And gently touching my ear is the zesty David Swidler, whose drunken wedding antics would force me into an early ill-advised surgery. Then there's me, Dr. Siano at your service.

I have good news, and bad news. The good news is this is my first beard, the bad news is this will be my last cigar as a successful Doc-o-ter. (What do you think of my first beard? REVIEW MY BEARD just click on the purple comments below {I stole this idea from McSweeney's})

Further proof that, when it comes to scenic beauty, Seattle rules.

This is the photo that ruined my career as a dockter. Once this baby got out on the Web-A-Tron I knew I was through. Kaiser Permanente Medical immediately fired my ass when they caught sight of me operating on David Swidler, with John Kerry laughing at my homemade head tourniquet. Damn you Swidler!

After removing David Swidler's brain in a botched mid-wedding emergency surgery, Dave attacked my crocth with a lemon wedge, saying my groin wasn't zesty enough.

New Friends Left to Right. Jen Roseman from Philly, Raphael Gallegos from Texas, Santa Fe's own Clint Singley, me, and straight out of Albuquerque is Somebody's Ass.

That's my sister Lieta, or Beene Dog as they call her on the street. Check the ladies playing Bocce Ball in the back, that's my kinda party.

We threw a lil party/BBQ at my sister's place in the sticks with a bunch of Opera pals I made this summer in Santa Fe. On the far left is Erin Van Horn who will be joining Erika Kuever (See April below) this fall at the U of Indiana. In the middle is the super gosh wow Dolores, and on the right is her totally radical roomate Laura. They both have blogs, scroll WAY down on the right to find 'em. They are also the coolest kids in school 'cause they have a pool.

Before I became a successful Doctor/Neuro-Surgeon guy, I used to fight crime, but only on large geological anomalies. They called me "Rock Dude 2" after the famous Rachmaninoff concerto. Here I am rocking Southern Utah, Arches National Park.

White Sands National Monument, in New Mexico. Notice the footprints. It looks like the work of my arch nemesis "Man Made Erosion Man."

I used to hate dogs. That is until I lost my sense of smell in a freak Hibachi accident. Shit, if it weren't for Smudge (in white) the Italian Greyhound and Angel the non-retrieving Retriever, I may have put some lavender in my Rosemary Chicken dish and lost Joanna forever, and I would have ruined a perfectly good chicken. Thanks dogs. [Side note: Their is now a drink called the Italian Greyhound or the "Smudge", you combine Grapefruit Juice, Vodka, sugar and Basil, that's right people Basil, it's hella good]

I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that my girlfriend Joanna is hella fine, and look at those rocks. Yeah, I said "hella", it's coming back. I've already said "hella" hella times today.

Before I became a travelling vagabond, I used to fight crime, but only on sand dunes. They called me "Dune Boy." This is me on my 29th Birthday at the gigantic Colorado Great Sand Dunes National Park, (1,700 feet of sand) reliving the golden days. There was no crime to fight that afternoon, but the struggle continues. "In the battle between Man and Sand, Sand will always win . . . until Man and his machines come and move Sand again." That's an actual quote from a 8th grade educational video, I knew from that day forward that I would be a sandy super hero. I'll get you one day "Man Made Erosion Man." One day!

June 2005 or "My Sister Bought a Teepee with No Poles" Dear Pueblos and Tribes of the Great Southwest: forgive me for stealing your way cool paterns, I just couldn't help it, they surrounded me, and forced me to recreate them.

June in Black. Some computers will shoot you to a gmail page, others will display the inverse colors, that I honestly think look better than the ones I had intended.

MAY 2005 . . . Hopefully improved.

May 1. Erika, Emmy, and I were driving around Seattle trying to decide what to do with a balmy spring night. Looking for a laugh we tried to contact the hilarious David Swidler, who apparently had "other plans." I have three words for you D.S. Wha tev er! As luck would have it, we had an artificial limb in the back of my car. So we drove to Dave's place and attempted to leave the plastic leg on his porch. As we ran from Dave's house like pre-teen ding-dong-ditchers, David's BRITISH MOTHER caught us and yelled after us in an adorable post-English accent. "What would you like me to do with this?" she said, fake leg in hand. Shamefully we sulked back to the porch and asked politely if she would give it to Dave. "Oh sure," she replied, "I'll just put it in his bed." The night was rounded out with a little frisbee at Golden Gardens, where karma granted Erika with an old rusty nail in the foot. We then watched the cult-classic Barbarella with Dave who joined us late for some bad movie yuks. Later Erika got a call, it was Dave "How did you get that in my bed? You just scared me shitless, anyway, thanks for the leg, it's everything I ever wanted." 2. Erika the Kougar leaps from being Stuck in the Muk to Capitol Hill. 3. Joanna and I watch the Sonics advance to the 2nd round for the first time in ages. 4. Erika and I go to pick up the animal costumes for Saturday's farewell party. We find five amazing costumes and the lady says we can take them TODAY, so we make a pact to not tell anyone, so we can break them out one day at a time and surprise our friends. I also went to a Mariner's game by myself, and they lost, badly. Later that night at a BBQ at Fort Awesome, the BUMBLEBEE attacks the party goers. Then as if nothing had happened stays to dance to some of the "Awesome" music. 5. Cinco De Mayo De Mukilteo. I coerced all my friends into coming to Mukilteo for a lil Mexican celebration at my Mom's house. (At this point both Dave and I lived with our parents, I now live with my sister, and Dave sleeps beneath the DJ's booth at Deja Vu) My mom has a huge frog collection, so tonight we broke out the frog costume. We took the less cumbersome bumblebee to Harborview Park to play some frisbee, which turned out to be the most hilarous thing I have ever seen. As we arrived at the busy park Joanna and the Bee (played by Erika) jumped out the car and headed for the grassy field. Joanna threw the frisbee at the Bumblebee and it smacked right into the side of the Bee's gigantic head, sending the massive yellow and black creature rolling down the hill. We all exploded with laughter, and I actually fell down I was laughing so hard, and everyone else in the park looked at us like we were a bunch of freaks. Fair enough. 6. After the boys from the band "Awesome" saw the Bee cut a rug to their new songs, they decided that the Bee would have to Dance at their next performance at Spin the Bottle. Spin the Bottle is a popular Seattle theatre, music, poetry, sketch comedy cabaret where The Habit, "Awesome", and numerous other groups made their debuts. I made a deal with them that not only would the Bee dance but a new animal would make a surprise cameo appearence. After the Bee retired to thunderous applause, the ROLLERBLADING BEAR came on stage and rocked the house. 7. Erika's farewell Party. First we took the ferry to Vashon and priemered the EAGLE, and then broke out MONKEY for the huge house on Vashon. We returned to Seattle fully costumed on the ferry and we were huge hit with the tourists and little league teams. We got to Evan's house exhausted but still managed to have a great party with a bunch of old friends and collapsed comfortably calling our week the "Best Week Ever!" 8. Mother's Day, I worked thinking it would be a cash cow, but instead I got screwed by SEPERATE CHECKS! I did however have a lovely Greek dinner with Mom. 9. Packing for Santa Fe. 10. Leaving Seattle: I had already been offered a job with the Santa Fe Opera for the Summer but they didn't hire Joanna saying they don't hire couples. So Joanna was going to come along jobless and hopefully find something. Just as we were leaving the driveway I got a call from my soon to be manager. He asked "is Joanna doing anything this summer?" and promptly offered her a job at the box office too. 11. Oregon: Too much fog. Idaho: Too many hawks. Utah: Too many Mormons. We slept that night in Moab, Utah. 12. We awoke to find ourselves surrounded by gigantic Red Rocks and snow capped mountains in the distance. Then we spent the day at Arches National Park which might be the most spectacular place I've ever been. 13. Finally we arrive in Santa Fe and meet my sister Lieta and her boyfriend Nigel, and we sleep on their concrete floor. 14. We moved to my Uncle Archur's place. 15. Rest and preparation. 16. First day of work at the Santa Fe Opera. 17. Joanna and I attempt our first ever real game of Ultimate Frisbee. 18. We move back to Lieta's place on the river, known as Red Sky Studios. 19. We watch the Sonics actually defeat the Spurs, which would only happen once more. 20. Work and drive South to Carlsbad. 21 We head underground to Carlsbad Caverns National Park. The caverns are huge and full of penis shaped stilagmites, but I only took a picture of the one that looked like a boob. That night we watched tens of thousands of bats emerge from the caves at sundown. 21. I visited Texas! A state I hate for obvious reasons. We hiked Guadalupe Mountains National Park in the morning, and attempted to pass the 120 degree afternoon watching a movie in El Paso. El Paso, as it turns out is the most USELESS CITY in America, they don't even have a decent restaurant, much less a good movie theatre in that town, but if you like Butfugly people in giant SUV's this may be your city. So we headed back to New Mexico and stopped at WHITE SANDS NATIONAL MONUMENT. Beautiful stark white sand dunes are surrounded by rugged mountains. The 360 Sunset was the best I've ever seen. To the west just above the mountains the clouds turned bright red. To the south there were those huge pink and purple puffy clouds you only see out here. In the east the full moon was rising above the dunes and to the north a huge Thunderstorm. 23. Nothing. 24. Played some more Ultimate with the hardcore players in cleats, and joined them for $2 beers and wings at the Catamount in downtown Santa Fe. 25. Joined some work buddies for drinks at a super swank/gay bar call Swig for $5 martinis, Joanna and I left a little early for the New Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith. I liked it, it had lots of action and cheesy dialouge. "He killed all the younglings!" 26. Best Thundercloud Ever. It looked like the approaching alien ships in Independence Day with Lightning shooting outward and upward and inward. 27. Played basketball with some local Santa Fe CHUMPS, actually they were just about as talented as me, but they hadn't seen my cornicopia of ridiculous moves. So needless to say I schooled them with the cross-over, pivot, Detlef Schrempf bastardized fade away, and bank it in with the left McScoopy. I also saw my first Buster Keaton film with a live score. The band kinda sucked, but Damn!!! Steamboat Bill Jr. is a hilarious movie. 28. Joanna and I took advantage of Lieta's empty studio and broke out our favorite games and footwear. I put on the Rollerblades, she broke out the tap shoes and we danced and fooled around and played hockey with paint rollers and a Cambodian woven ball. 29. River rafting on the Rio Grande, which had swelled from an unusually wet Southwestern winter. The rapids were intense but the fat lady in front kept us from flippin. Four people died on the same river later that week. 30. Dinner with Arch. 31. Moved