September 8th, 2003



Friday night was Colleen’s Birthday party, where one of the main events of the evening was the opportunity to break in Ian and Colleen’s new poker table, which was a wedding present from the coolest people on the face of the planet. So after wishing Colleen a happy birthday, Rebecca and I rolled up our sleeves and hit the gaming table. I lost and lost and lost. I didn’t win one single hand, though I frequently had the second-best hand (which just means that I bet (and lost) a lot) and I bought in again and again. I think I was down $12 when I left the table. Did a little schmoozing among the party folk, learned how to play Gang of Four from Aaron & Kirsten. One would have thought that they had had enough of all things Asian for a while, but planning for the Spirited Away live game didn’t quite have them pinned to the ground yet.
Eventually, though it was getting late, the lure of the poker table grew again, so I borrowed $5 from Becca (putting me $17 in the hole) and started again. I won the next hand. And the next. And the next. In all, I think I won 5 of the next 6 hands, but by then Rebecca was falling off her perch, so I called it quits, and totted up the chips. Over the course of the evening, my final tally was that I had managed to win ten cents.
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Sunday was more of a relaxing day. Though it didn’t start well. We decided to get a late breakfast somewhere, and set off to find food. The first place we tried was having a special brunch, and we didn’t want that. Then we headed to Main Street Santa Monica, and a farmer’s market or something kept us from parking. So we just hit a donut shop and went home, where we filled our bellies with fat and sugar. Later, we took a trip to the mall, where I bought some clothes and one of the sales clerks complimented me on the shirt I was wearing. On the way back home, we hit Trader Joe’s and the clerk there stared at my tits for a while. Her mouth is moving as she reads the shirt. Her brow wrinkles in consternation. Finally, she says “I don’t get it.” She turns to Rebecca, “Do you get it?” I’m just thinking to myself ‘please just give me my receipt and let me go’. Rebecca attempts an explanation. The TJ’s girl just stares, a thin rivulet of drool oozing out of the corner of her mouth. We grab our food and run away. My opinion of TJ employees rose when Ice started working there; now it has fallen back down again.
Later that evening, Aaron comes by to drop off the injured camera. Rebecca’s taking a nap, but I let Aaron have a peek (hey, this is a family journal – nothing naughty here – she was fully clothed) since she was curled up with Jirettai-neko in her arms.