Beach Day

Today is Beach / Beer day. Enjoy your weekend everyone.

Jakeathetic

Apathetic; Adj. Ap-a-thet-ic

1. Having or showing little or no emotion: apathetic behavior.
2. Not interested or concerned; indifferent or unresponsive: an apathetic audience.
3. Also see Jakeathetic...

Welcome to my reality. This is the funk that I find myself in. It has been twelve days since my last post. Each day that has gone by I have told myself to get on and write. But strangely I have had no energy to do much of anything. Work has been extremely busy. I think that that has been the greatest contributor to my exhaustion. Add to that the classes that I have been taking and the fact that I am a husband, dad, gardener, mechanic, handy man, drink maker, cook, and over all house man-whore. Understandably I have become a completely lethargic couch turd. I have lost touch with current events, sports, my blog mates, and reality TV. For fucks sake I haven’t had the time or energy to drink beer! How fucking pathetic can a guy be? Maybe there is something to be said for “Crank” after all. Because I’ll tell you one thing if I have one more cup from Starbucks, it’s going to eat a four-inch hole in the bottom of my stomach. Which will really suck because I’m sure that I will be too lazy to get my ass out of bed to go to the E.R. I took this photograph on the fourth of July.

Clearly Harry has more motivation than I do. Hell, look at the work he put into his sign! Two color print on custom stock. He even did a spell check for Christ’s sake! “Woe is me. The homeless have become more productive than I.” WTF!!! Now if you’ll excuse me I need to roll over. I’d hate to get a recliner sore on my ass.

Jake

Sittin' On A Dock On The Bay. . .

I have a friend named Ricardo. Everyone calls him Ricker. We have been friends for about fifteen years. Ricker and I have had a lot of really great times together. Over the years we have gone to a number of sporting events. I wouldn't say it's a regular thing, but we've been to enough that I have lost count.

Sunday morning Ricker called me and left me a voice mail. It went something like this...

"Hey Ja-***** ****** ******- ome tickets to th-** ***** ** *** *****-me tomorrow. It's Irish nigh-*** *** ***** *-, call me!"

"WTF?" was my response.

Now I called him back right away (I mean like 8.5 seconds later) but got his voice mail.

"Hey Ricker, I don't have a clue what the fuck you just said. I assume you want to go to the Giants game. Call me back dude!"

FASTFORWARD to Monday at about 2:30 in the afternoon. Ricker called me back.

"Dude the ferry leaves at 4:45, I'll pick you up at 4:00."

"Pick me up? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"What do you mean? Aren't we going to the Giants game? It's Irish night."

"Umm, aren't you Mexican?" I ask.

"Hey, I got a new green Dodgers jearsy. I gotta represent!" (he's a die hard Dodgers fan and hates SF)

"Ricker, the Mets are in town."

"?????. . . and. . . ?" Came Rickers response.

"How many times have I said to call me ahead of time so I can plan....."

"Yeah yeah yeah, I did, and you didn't answer!"

At this point I realize it's pointless to debate with him. So semi-reluctantly, I agreed. "Sure man, pick me up at 4:00."

Now if any of you have had the pleasure of going to a Giants home game you'll know that it's a pretty great time. They have a beautiful ballpark that sits right on the bay.


You can hop on the ferry, walk about a mile and a half, and you are there. After the game the ferry picks you up right at the park for the return trip. I've made this journey countless times and swear it's the only way to go to a game now. Fuck driving. Fuck traffic. Fuck parking in the city. They take you there, serve beer on the trip, and take you home afterwards. It's fucking great!

Ricker arrives about ten minutes late (very predictable). In short order he makes some wise crack to Mrs. T that sends her into a tailspin. With half a dozen expletives and a pointed finger, she orders us out. She cracks a smile at me and says "have fun, see you later."

The ferry trip takes about 45 minutes. The walk to the park takes a bit longer due to the number of bars flanking the route. The first regular stop in Gordon Biersch. They have great beer and great food.

Mmmmmmm!

This, is the view. . . .

The second stop is MoMos which is right across the street from the park. A few more caack-tails there and it's game time.

We had yet to buy tickets and the doorman at MoMos didnt' have any for that nights game. As we waited to cross the street I reminded Ricker that I only sit field level. I like to consider myself a baseball snob. Fuck the cheap seats! A scalper overheard us and offered us two tickets behind the dugout for $6 over face value. "Yeah right, fuck that! I'll give you $25 each." he babbled on about making a profit as I walked away. Another scalper overheard our exchange and told Ricker he'd sell us two "Club Level" seats behind home plate for $25 each. Ricker agreed and made the exchange. "Hey Jake check it out $67 dollar tickets for $25 each!" I'm pissed now. "Fucktard what did I say? ONLY FIELD LEVEL!" Well now, stuck with the mystery zone tickets, we headed into the venue. Up and up we went. Higher and higher into the wild blue yonder.

Now let me explain something. Ricker has completely ruined my concept of baseball. You would not believe where we ended up. A-Fucking-Mazing!!! Air conditioned concourse with some of the greatest food I have ever had. No steamed weenies or Budweiser here. Check this out!!!!!



Corned beef sandwiches and Guinness Draught made Irish night well worth it. I'll never be able to sit with the common folk ever again!!!! Ricker my friend, you are a bastard!!!

Be patient with me while a take a little side trip at this point. . .

To the 20ish dick in line at the Irish Pub line. "You are an asshole."

1. The backwards Celtics ball cap doesn't make you Irish.
   
2. The bad lucky charms accent you were attempting doesn't make you Irish.
3. Ordering a Black-n-Tan makes you look like a chick; (and no, not an Irish chick!)
4. Get off your cell phone and order your shit before I have to punch you in the back of the head.
5. FYI the girl you were trying to hook up with on the phone wouldn't meet you for a reason. . . , she's banging your older brother!

Sorry, where was I? Oh yeah, game ruined. I was enjoying the concourse so much that I only sat in my seat for about 20 minutes. I ate and drank like I had just been paroled from prison. I pretty much forgot that a game was even being played.

Now, In the seventh inning we remember that some guys from the firehouse have season tickets in the bleachers. Off we went, in search of our drunken comrades. It was futile. We never found em' and it was friggen cold in the outfield. So Ricker made a suggestion that we leave early and go back to MoMos for a few more drinks. "Trust me" he said. "The ferry doesn't leave until one hour after the game is over. We have pleanty of time!!!" Not so semi-reluctantly, I agreed.

After about forty minutes at MoMos I peel Ricker off the bar and head to the ferry. Can you predict where this is going? Yup, you guessed it. . . Ferry is gone and I'm looking down the barrel of a California Divorce. "HOLY FUCK RICKER, WHAT HAVE YOU GOTTEN ME INTO?"

"Don't worry dude, we'll catch a cab"

"Ricker, do you know how much a cab is going to cost?"

"Who cares Jake? It's on me!"

Yes, I let him pay! . . . . . One Hundred and Twenty Dollars!!!

But this story ends on a good note. We beat the ferry by five minutes and Mrs. T was peacefully asleep when I got home.

Enjoy your weekend everyone, I'm working.

Jake

A Bit Of Honesty.

I was inspired to begin my personal blog after reading one created by an old friend. Prior to embarking on my blogging journey I did quite a bit of reading to learn more about the process and to gain some sort of insight into what makes a successful blog. In my research I found a list of suggestions that one woman had created to help out the new blogger. Although I would love to give her due credit, I have lost both the list and the link to her website.

One of the bullet point suggestions was to NOT use your real name. Her thought was that in order to have a truly honest blog, that is "real", many beginners find it helpful to create a persona or nickname that becomes there blogging identity. Strange really, the idea that you had to somehow be "dishonest" in order to be honest. But I did again see some logic to her idea. In addition she suggested that you tell none of your close friends or relatives until you have established a voice and audience. Again, her theory is that people filter and water down what they write out of fear of what people they know will think or feel. Again, sounds like a great suggestion.

So when I went about creating this blog, I took her advise on several points. I picked a name that fits who I am as a person and in fact gave a clue as to my profession of choice. Not knowing how protective to be of my identity, I had chosen to not come out an reveal what I do for a living. But with yesterdays post I felt it was important (in order properly convey that moment in my life) that I reveal a bit of me. I am a firefighter. The "Branch" is my station and the "Company" is the city I serve.

I have yet to reveal my blog to family and friends. I don't believe that will happen anytime soon. In addition I kind of like the whole Jake thing. Because trust me, my real name is really really generic. As a matter of fact if I was a can of beer, I would just be a plain white can with my first name in bold black letters. (Plus I would be flat and most likely leave a bad taste in your mouth). So please still think of me as Jake, the confused 40 year old fireman from California.

As far as the Grandfather events of the last few days. I have quite a bit to think about before I write about it. I am leaving tomorrow and will be gone for a few days. I will post again on Tuesday.

Take care,

Jake

p.s. She also suggested that you cuss alot. I fucking loved that one!

Such An Idiot!!!

Before getting into how great the weekend was, let me begin by saying that "I am and idiot". First of all, Mrs. Titus's Alaska trip isn't until next week. So, this calender oversight submarined any chance of an acute and rare illness befalling the Jake. So my list of "things" became irrelevant. Today would have been a day off. Instead, I elected to work. Maybe exhaustion will bring on some slight illness that would, in turn, justify unscheduled rest.

Of all my planned events, I was looking forward to two in particular. This morning I had a scheduled Chiropractor appointment and thirty minute massage. I so needed that. The other was seeing a friend from high school. Skid Jones and I were going to try and hit a baseball game in Sacramento. Mutually it wasn't going to work out. Instead we decided to do it next week.

As busy as I have been with work, I fell behind on the "Not So Weekly 6-Pack". In order to catch up on the Cinco de Mayo beer reviews I purchased the Mexican Beer sampler from Costco. In theory this was a great idea. What I found out is that it is not. You see, there comes a certain point when drinking that, beer is just beer. Differentiating one from the other becomes difficult, and frankly pointless, after the first 6-pack. So in the future the review will be one brand at a time.

The city was great! Dinner plans fell through because we had drinks with friends before getting on the Baylink Ferry. We arrived at Cobb's about five minutes after the doors opened.

You wouldn't imagine how awesome our seats were!

Pic from our seats. Mike Birbiglia was fucking hilarious!

Coupled with great food and many many many drinks. . .The night was a blast.