Chinatown and Ocean Beach

鍋貼: possibly the best food on earth. Oh, you don’t read Chinese? Please allow me to translate: “Pot sticker.” Yes.
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And So It Begins

By “it,” I mean “the deluge of photos.” I will do my best not to overwhelm you.

Step one: the backlog. When I leave Minnesota, I will miss Pizza Luce. Sarah and I go regularly.
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Make With the New Server

Dear Mediatemple who is not hosting most of my service any more,
I realize that this is a difficult breakup and that you still have some of my stuff, but I hope that we can be friends in the future. Just don’t lie to me or trash talk my friends and we’re cool in my book.

With love always,
Jesse

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I’m Going Back to Mupples

We will be flying back to Minneapolis tomorrow morning. I find this most displeasing.

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What the?

Dear Mediatemple who went to the bar with me last night,
I think that you know where this post is going, so I will leave the completion up to you.

With love,
Jesse

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Finally, Breakfast

P. Nuttles. P dot nuttles.
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Pelt The Rabbit In His Big White Head

The bunny came back and we made up.
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The Booth Babe As Promised

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I didn’t even get a table

When I arrived, there was no table, so I considered just holding our sign and throwing the horns for eight hours straight.
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Do You Know The Way To San Jose

Or am I in Santa Clara? Either way, I have the large-bathroomed “handicapped suite.” I am dogged by the persistent yet subtle aroma of feces — or at least old people. I should be seeking a Kinko’s to print something, but instead I want food and a deep sleep.

Dot dot dot.

The pizza is on it’s way, along with a 2 liter of Pepsi. It’s an old fashioned sleepover in the poop room. I’m going to watch some Doctor Who and Mighty Boosh until I pass out.

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