Back from San Diego. Thank God. No more Southern California for me. Basically: Can’t stand the fucking place. Palm trees, bronzed boobjobs, hype, style wars, clogged freeways and lots of unrelenting heat and beauty and sunshine.

I came home to cloudy skies and rain. Fuck yeah. It poured straight down and hard. I found myself thanking the heavens above. Rain soaked my clothes. It came in through the windows and my desk was floating…

Before I get too carried away, let me comment on my weekend:

The highlights of the show were:

01. Being there to see our Nixon booth projects come to life. Some good struff going on. Some not-so-good ones too. “Tradeshow booth design” is a fickle arena. You need big budgets to pull off things properly. All in all, a good job was carried out. It’s always nice to see the Nixon watches people. Chad Hilton tops the list, with his carefree life-giving flow of niceness. A good kid, a brother.

02. Seeing a whole slew of fucks, including, and in no particular order (cuz they all kiss my ass equally): Rose, Bridges, Chief, Michay-lear-rye-aye, Tevis, Jared, Sue, the Kasshole family allstars, San Francisco Lee (of Capozzi fame), Zimmerman, Pinski, assorted Grenerds, Nixon peoples, Coulter, Jessica from NYC, Piney, Muzzey, Embry, Marty, Mikey, Zergeballs…

For whatever reason, completely out of our hands, it was real hot out. Muggy. San Diego’s nights have always been good to me. Mellow days, cool nights. Not this time. Sweating pigs, all of us.

Glad to be back. No more California.