On Friday night, MB and I joined our pal Will at The Casbah for a show featuring some punk/surfer/ska bands. This was not a typical Amanda Habitat, since I couldn't care less about the straight punk stuff. It's kind of a dick-swinging genre, which wouldn't be objectionable if the music itself wasn't so repetitious and boring. Punk songs that achieve popularity with the greater public are actually pop songs. Same-same for thrasher metal type stuff. Gorsh, it's beyond my capacity to understand how people enjoy that kind of music.
But I enjoyed the two bands whose sound was closer to the surfer/ska stuff, a lot. And despite the negative commentary above, there is a lot of atmosphere and ambiance at The Casbah, and I still had fun while the other two punk bands were on; I just wasn't near the stage (or even in the same room for most of the set). As I am not a frequent punk show attendee, I was thus surprised when dudes (and tall women) immediately started thrashing about in front of the stage, almost like an autonomic response to the music. Banging into each other's bodies at a punk show; this is fun. I snickered to myself that "15 years ago, I would have been thinking 'THIS IS SO AWESOME,'" whereas when I noticed the thrashing thing on Friday night, my first reaction had been (in the Central Minn-ah-soh-tan-accented voice of the mother of my first-year college roommate): "(Tsking-sound), somebody's going to get hurt doing all that body slamming!"
The Casbah is something of an institution in San Diego, so I'd been wanting to go a show there for a while. The photo above shows the partially open-air venue. Right before I snapped this pic, I plane had flown over-head, lending an extra layer of electrifying atmosphere to the event. (This area of the city lies in the flight-path of the runway for the airport.)
At the end of the night, MB and I had the fantastic/terrible idea of swinging by Adalbertos for a burrito and pollo asado tacos. I felt like a whale for the remainder of the weekend.
Whale-ish feelings added to my motivation to stick with our original plans for Saturday: physical exercise in the form of exploring the trails around Mission Bay with our bikes. We rode around the circumference of the bay and then stopped at the boardwalk at Mission Beach for drinks and food. The total distance rode was only about 14 miles, but it felt longer, since the territory was all new to us, and we had to stop a bunch of times to check whether we were traveling in the right direction.
Yes. (You were wondering whether this margarita tasted as good as it looks. The answer is yes, and so did the one after that.)
After our late lunch, we trotted out to the beach - since it's right here - to see what we could see. (Beach things. Beach things were happening.) There weren't many people in the water. The temperature was in the low 60s all day, which is perfect for riding, but freezing for 'dipping one's flesh into the ocean.'
Later, at home, MB settled into a sleep coma in the TV room, and I settled into a... Game-of-throma (Hahahaha. A Game of Thrones marathon.) in the bedroom. (I'm only mentioning this bedroom thing because look there is a photo of the bedroom.)
[Removes five-paragraph tangent about Game of Thrones. Decides to put it in the next post instead. Whhheeeeeee, I'm Blaaaaaawwwwwwwggggggiiinnnnnggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
On Sunday, I pattered around the house doing *random housey things* (cleaning, frame-hanging) and talking to the cat. (FILLING UP THE TIME UNTIL GAME OF THRONES AND SUNDAY NIGHT TV.) MB had duty on the ship, so he was gone for the day, and the night, and the next day.
In the afternoon, I went on a run, taking extra time to explore Sunset Cliffs Natural Park. My pace wasn't very impressive, so I opted for longevity at a modest pace. My body felt tired. I hadn't gotten many hours of sleep because - as she does nearly every morning - THE CAT woke me up at the godless and early hour of SIX that morning, by walking over my face, over and over and over.
Cleo's instructions for Denying Amanda Sleep:
1. Walk over Amanda's head repeatedly. Back and forth, back and forth.
2. Meow and purr madly while doing this.
3. Occasionally pause to poke her face with your paws.
4. Another option, nudge her hands with your head.
5. When she groans and attempts to protect her face with a blanket, wedge your paws under the blanket. Keep aiming for the face.
6. As often as possible, ensure that her face is turned in the direction of your kitten ass.
7. When this gets boring, attack the sewn tufts in her duvet with your claws. Repeat until duvet is destroyed.
*If she manages to trick you out of the room by getting up and giving you treats in the kitchen, before returning back to her bed and latching the door shut on you like the MEAN CAT PARENT she is, meow loudly at the door for an hour.
Dudes. The cat is kind of a dick.
Don't let that precious little ball of adorable furriness fool you.
Anyway, during the exploration, I found some stairs that lead down to the sea.
This spot was very inspiring. So many beachy, picnic-y, swimming, hiking and sunning plans for the summer!
The coastline north of the park comprises the section along which I normally run.
And here is a hatted horse head, during the trip back home to a shower and my precious Sunday night TV.
Later MB sent me a pic of Colors on his ship. Sunset with bonus Coronado Bridge on the right. I know this was during Colors because -
Amanda: I really liked that pic you sent. The sunset was pretty, and you even got the bridge in there.
MB: Yeah, whenever I'm on duty I have to stand out there during Colors.
Amanda: Oh, is that what's going on?
MB: What did you think it was?
Amanda: I don't know. That they're just looking out there, next to the flag.
Checking out the pretty sunset and all.