Dear Ms. Smokey McPuffsalot:

Although I can't understand the obsessive compulsive neuroses that causes you to sit and chain smoke a pack of Virginia Slims on the corner of 16th and Mother's Beach every week, crushing and relighting before you have finished each cigarette, but I and the rest of our neighbors here on Mother's Beach would greatly appreciate it if you would simply and graciously toss the spent and properly extinguished butts into the big, green trash receptacle sitting a mere nine inches to your right.

I have been cleaning up after you for the better part of a year, and frankly, picking up used butts grosses me out more than picking up my dog's shit after a meal of rotten chicken tamales in rancid adobe sauce.

I know I might be asking a lot considering your obviously compromised mental/emotional state. However, I do warn you that it's not impossible that SOME residents MAY begin to teach their dog(s) to poop precisely where you sit and smoke. It's certainly a possibility.

Thank you for your prompt and courteous consideration of this important matter.

Sincerely,

The residents of Newport Harbor.

Posted by themightyjimbo at 01:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Finally, a Farmer's Market on the peninsula. Rainbow Swiss chard, a whole pile of different cherry tomatoes, thai chillies, organic yellow beets, and a big box or organic figs - goes great in plain yogurt with almonds and honey.

The box of figs reminded me of The Figmen of Imagination and Synonamess Botch. And if you know what I'm talking about, you are undeniably a nerd.

In other news...

Here are some pictures of a sleepy old mushy faced dog and a relentless and occasionally annoying young one.

Posted by themightyjimbo at 09:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The three hour marathons of run and fetch at dog beach have been traded for a more leisurely approach to life in paradise, for both Josh and Jimbo.

Posted by themightyjimbo at 11:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The beacon for yuppies, hippies and caffeine tweakers throughout San Francisco.

Although they do make a VERY tasty latte, and this may spark the outrage of thousands of pierced, shaved (or unshaved), inked, organic hemp and recycled rubber hipsters who will beat me senseless with their messenger bags, but I think Intelligentsia in Venice Beach is at least just as good.

Posted by themightyjimbo at 01:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Another summer, another family fishing trip to Mammoth. And you thought Mammoth was just for snow and beer...

Shame!

It's also for fish and beer.

And mountain bikes and beer and rocks and beer but those activities will have to wait until my physical therapist terrorist gives me permission to abuse my knees rather than paying him to abuse them for me.

Until that trip (probably in August), enjoy some photos of happy dogs and dads and some big, dead fish.

Posted by themightyjimbo at 08:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

How to make Josh happy:

Sunny day. Open field. Big stick.

He's a dog of simple pleasures.

How to make Jimbo happy:

Tioga Pass Resort. One slice of hot, apple crumb pie.

He's a man of simple pleasures.

How to make Jimbo VERY happy:

Tioga Pass Resort. One slice of hot, apple crumb pie AND one slice of mixed berry crumb pie.

He may be a man of simple pleasures, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy a lot of them.

Posted by themightyjimbo at 07:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Posted by themightyjimbo at 10:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Yeah...saw that. It was actually printed right there on the car.

Wanna bet there's an Ed Hardy shirt in this guy's closet?

Posted by themightyjimbo at 10:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It's a 70 degree Saturday Afternoon.

The car is in the shop.

The motorcycle is sold.

My knees wrapped in ice cubes.

I'm working on an expense report and about a hundred emails.

There's vodka in the freezer and juice in the fridge.

Why not?

Posted by themightyjimbo at 04:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

So I have six holes in my knees and as I probably shouldn't be using them to push my ever fatter ass up rock faces (yet), that doesn't mean I can't use them to stand at the base of a cliff and take lots of pictures.

It's about time I rediscovered my camera, too.

BTW, this dude here; he just turned 50. That's 13 years that he's been dragging me, often whining, up and down cliffs all over the world. He sent this 12c today, just for giggles. I can only hope to be that strong at 50.

In other, utterly, wholly, ridiculously unrelated news, if you belong to a gang, getting on your hands and knees in a filthy gas station restroom to carve your gang sign into the toilet seat doesn't really compliment you or your gang. Maybe they kicked you a few too many times in the head during that initiation.

And, if that's your plan to dis the other gang by carving their sign into the place where you shit, well, unless you carry one of those cool CIA laser welders from the movies, you still sat on the floor in that Arco to scratch it out, and I'm just guessing that you weren't wearing gloves.

Posted by themightyjimbo at 05:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)