It started out innocently enough: a clear sunny day. Nothing to worry about. Go to the park, wait 'til one of the delinquents come along and force them to ride to G.G. for fun and games! Chris shows up then Cannibal. We decide to BBQ at the beach! Happy, happy. Joy, joy!

Just when we are getting settled, cooking, relaxing and having fun... then the two leopard-skin-Speedos 300 lb. drunken Samoans come over and stand around us staring at our food! They offer Budweiser in return. So how can we refuse?

They didn't eat much. But they sure could be annoying enough to scare the shit out o' me. Cannibal kept egging them on, for which he's going to pay! Lee the younger one decided he was going to fall on me, so I started to run. He fell 20 ft. after with cigarette in mouth and beer in hand.

Chase starts again.

Several chases later, Lee catches my ankle. Then I smack him on the nose with the BBQ pan. You know like they tell you to do to sharks. It works, he lets go. I run away!

Then my (good) friends decide that another twelve pack for the Samoans would be a good idea. So I go get it. Dennis and Lee start to sumo wrestle. What a sight! Looked like two beached whales with feet.

Lynn says I need more gratuitous story filler now. So the Samoans turned into 300 lb. aliens!

Back to reality, the story would end here if it weren't for Chris leading Cannibal and I to a cave at the Sutro rubbles. Waded through waist deep water to more caves and debris. Worth it! Coolest spot in the City. Great rock climbing Cannibal almost gets swept away while Chris and I are yelling, "hold on to something!" at him.

So as the sun sets on this story we remained stoned, drunk, and fed. P.S. Nice sunset!

-Trogg

Dear Diary,

It happened one dark and balmy Friday night. The wind howled as the Greyhound pulled up to First and Mission to pick us up. If we had known then the outcome of the next two days, the cork would have never come out of the bottle. Fully equipped with all the messengerosities, we ventured into the Abyss of Reno, Nevada, fondly referred to us as Hell.

By the time we even reached Oakland, we already had a bottle of California's finest Carlo Rossi and a 40-ouncer of MGD under our breath and ready for the official baptism of the bus bathroom. Little to his knowledge, I had a six-pack of Anchor Stream stashed in my backpack destined to be downed well before Sacto.

In Sacto it happened, while he lit my bowl for me. He cupped my hand in his and stared into my eyes as I threw in the herb. I blushed when he brought his lips to mine, before I could blow out the smoke. When I did, he drew in the smoke as well as my tongue. As we began our journey into yet another bottle of cheap wine. By the time we were crossing the Nevada border, the windows of the entire bus were steamed.

Prints from the Cat's Paw

We arrived at Steph's mom's house and I could not wait any longer. The bus ride was long and with my luck, I had to hope to make the rest of the night and morning twice as long.

Once alone in her mom's bedroom, I wasted no time in having things the Hanx way. Stephanie who was already feeling and showing me the effects of the five and a half hour road trip with the Cat was not about to be denied her own wants and pleasures. For this type of woman has been getting her way more often than not for a long, long time.