Well, at the request of Mr. and Mrs. Bacheldor, I am here to fill in, how you say, the rest of the story (now I'm wondering if that phrase is copyrighted and if I'm gonna get in trouble with the EPA or whatever). I awoke the morning after Josh Mann's nuptual vows in the basement of a stranger's house. Sadly not like so many people after weddings, finding themselves with a bridesmaid or such, but I was in a sleeping bag on the floor, one sleeping bag away from a cuddling Daniel Bubna and Nathan Miller. It was a wonderful way to wake up, but when I tried to join the fun, I found my lungs on the verge of some catastrophic breakdown, so I ran into the bathroom for a caughing fest. I'm sad I missed out on the bonding time. So, we all woke up, ate some sort of late morning breakfast (I had Reeses cereal for the first time - interesting, but I'm not a breakfast eater), and tried to get on the road sometime around 11. Or maybe we tried to get on the road much earlier than that, and we only got out just after 11. Whatever the case, I had a new passenger with myself and Mr. Duerkop in my thousand-island-colored 1992 Ford Tempo - Mr. Bubna himself. He wanted to plug in his iPod and listen to some Damien Rice, and I was down, so to speak. Soon enough we were off driving again, and of course, Fluffy was in the lead, flying like a blond-headed chiroptera out of Gehenna, and we drove down (that is correct, south from Salem, the opposite direction that all of us would eventually go, but there was a method to this madness) to Corvallis to cut over to the coast. It was a beautiful drive, me and Bubna and Duerk kickin' it to some sweet tunes, winding around tree-covered hillsides and through leaf-covered canopies (that made me slightly claustrophobic), eventually reaching Newport with the ocean stretched out before us like a giant picnic blanket. First, I was taunted at our gas-station stop by a Quiznos that would apparently be open soon, but obviously not soon enough. We headed north in search of lunch (it was something near 1 or 1:30), passing just about every place you could imagine except Chipotle (Subway, Burger King, just imagine with me). Finally, the van blinker turns on and we're looking to turn into the Arby's parking lot. Ah, that's exactly what we wanted you to think! Ha, we flipped a U and went all the way through town again. We drove so far that we took a bridge out of town over a little ocean bay. What'd we do shortly after we'd crossed the bridge? We flipped around again and went back to -guess where?- Arby's. It was a lovely meal, and I probably put too much food in me (three regular roast beefs and plenty of curly fries), and then it was time to swim. Kidding. But we did head off in search of a beach. Well, with Bubs and Duerk and me, all we wanted to do is jump out and start running on the sand, like Chariots of Fire minus the sweaters and weird haircuts. After a while Bubna finally reached across to my steering wheel and honked the horn, and we pulled over. It was a tough climb down the side of this cliff, but it was worth it because there was only another guy and his dog down there, and it was a gorgeous beach. The water was sort of like... Minnesota water about the beginning of April. It hurt your body just to be in it. We also learned that frisbee is nearly impossible on the beach. But, soon enough, we were off again, driving south. We stopped once to see a giant canyon thing with the ocean waves in the bottom of it. That was scary. And then we drove some more and stopped to look at the sea LIONS lounging like I have always wanted to- minus the ocean. Well, this is a lot of writing to try and get to us all being in Eugene with Rhonda Johnson at a place called The Roadhouse. Don't get it confused with Texas Roadhouse, even though that would be easy since they appear to be identical. Me and Bach had a brew, me and Bubna shared some ribs; I ate sweet rolls like manna. Ironically, me and Bach were the two drivers, but we were both fine by the time we got out of there. We said our goodbyes, and me and Duerk hit the road for a two and a half hour drive back to Portland/Vancouver. Duerk had spent two nights at my brother's place and had only met Gonzo, the wild-eyed crazy-legged schnoodle. So, I carted Duerk to the airport the next morning, and life returned to normal, sort of. I did have a church invitation from probably one of the most beautiful women on earth, but that's a story for another blog. Sorry for another extensive look into my life and times. So, what's happening with you? Yeah, me neither.