West Coast Tour Blog, Day 8

I Love San Diego, now that's a song I could get behind. We bid farewell to LA and headed on down the 5, but not before a crackhead accused me of trying to steal his (her?) rusty old bike outside a bodega in Santa Monica. Silly crackhead. Who wants a rusty old bike when you've got a MERCURY FUCKING MARINER? (www.mercurymariner.com)

I led the charge from the heart of darkness right into my old summer of 2000 stomping grounds, the whale's vagina.



First order of business, as usual, was downloading porn.



Then it was off to my favorite place in the entire world, the cliffs of La Jolla.



It was pretty awesome.





Some crazy people were hang-gliding over the cliffs, which looks like tons of fun if you have enormous testicles.







We pushed John off the cliff, and he was kind enough to take a photo of Steve and Drew as he went down.



Drew gazed off into the distance, wondering if there might be a glory hole nearby.



Steve and I embraced, happy to have survived the long journey.



Boris and I sat in silence for a while, drinking it all in. There was a lot to drink, and it was delicious, like beer-flavored beer.



I took one last look around and said goodbye to the cliffs, in my inside voice.



We headed downtown and walked along the beach for a while.



Apparently John had landed safely, and managed to find a glory hole.



Naturally, Drew was quite jealous.



We paid a brief visit to our La Jolla branch...



...then stole their Jeep and did a few donuts in the sand. Safely, of course.



Dusk arrived, and it was time for us to go to work.



The gig was at a place called Scolari's Office in downtown San Diego. When we arrived we met another myspace fan/friend, whose name escapes me. He bought us some shots and was definitely looking to party. Also looking to party: a few Navy guys who heckled us a bit at first, but warmed up to us (possibly thanks to "In The Navy Now") and ended up buying us shots as well. It was a pretty fun show and the crowd seemed to be into it. Afterwards, John, Drew (who was channeling Nikki Sixx at this point) and Mike all went out with our myspace buddy to party like the '86 Mets, while Boris, Steve and I went for a nighttime stroll along the beach. It was pleasant and gave us a chance to reflect. The tour was coming to a close and I didn't quite know how to feel about it. It had been awesome, exhausting, inspiring, disappointing, invigorating, depressing, wild, confusing and fun, all at the same time. I was fried. I think we all were.