I’m helping out Ron Paul at the Bayshore Mall, and Isaac calls me, invites me to a concert across town. I really want to go and tell him I’ll get there as soon as I can, but I never make it for unknown reasons. Walking around the outside of the mall, I pass a nondescript man who is engaged in a heated conversation with Pope Benedict XVI. I eventually find Isaac at the ocean shore, at the edge of a cliff, where he told me to come to, “his vacation home.” It is a large platform made of rough-hewn wooden planks, with a couch, TV, minifridge, and speakers just sitting on it, as if they were protected by walls and a roof. Nevertheless, it’s pretty awesome.
I’m in the passenger’s seat in a car going through a fast-food drive through. For some reason, “show us your bewbs” [which kevin had written in the dust on his brother’s car for the drive up yesterday] was written on the front of the car. There was a pickup truck in front of us, with a bunch of girls in the back. To all of our surprises, they obliged to our request. Then whoever was driving hit the gas really hard and all the girls in the back fell out.
In a house filled with all of the employees I know at UCSC ITS. They’re in a room discussing downsizing and who they’ll have to cut first. I go downstairs and Hannah and Andrea, two friends from high school, are chillin’ on the couch. We talk about our day—apparently we all work at different Safeway branches.
I don’t feel like I slept that much.