Knee Deep in the Rivers of Rage

Look at old man Gannon, lobbing the pig at training camp. Of course, it's Kerry Collins' team now. But the spectre of 2002 still looms over Napa. It's time to bring in Mr. Jesus, and bless this flock of malcontents and salary cap deadwood. Gone is Fucker Callahan.

It's July 19, 2005. Joined by Robert Kastigar and the FANTASTIC Ted Bluey, I go to The Empress of China (at 838 Grant, between Clay & Washington). I've been here before. For the rehearsal dinner of Dusty & Suzanne (www.freecalifornia.typepad.com). Turns out, this was the first restaurant that Robert had ever been to in San Francisco, when he visited SF with his Dad, back in 'the year 79. First order of business: the house drink. Mai Tais. Savor the bounty! Loaded with rich, noxious Myer's Rum, they did us up in a hurry. Then we ordered the 'Princess' dinner for three, including fried wontons, tea and some pork thing and some beef thing. I don't know. After the mandatory second round of Mai Tais, I couldn't focus on the food. Only the gnawing hunger within. I do know, however, that the service was EXCELLENT. We didn't even have to serve ourselves - they did it FOR US! It was JUST like being at a RESTAURANT!!!!!!!!
And from below us (the restaurant is 6 floors up, possibly the highest restaurant in the whole entire world) a FROG watched with rapacious envy.
The fortunes arrived: Mine was the one about beauty. Ted's was the 'sweetheart' one (he's married). Robert's was the THIRD one. Finally, Robert and AUTHOR posed with the hostess. Farewell, Empress!

Homey the Cat has a NEW MAT.

NO MORE will she spill water on the floor. NO MORE will her FoodZone be undefined.
This is what her FoodZone used to look like:

What a miserable cesspool of filth and the mundane.
But a trip to the Hardware Store solved everything, when the Wife and I found the AWESOMEST MAT OF ALL TIME and bestowed it upon gentle Homey.
Now, puny humans, gaze upon Homey's NEW MAT, replete with food dish and drinking cup.

ITEM: Your Author has a stalker!
It's this chick from the morning carpool and evening commute. It makes me feel like the proverbial Fran Tarkenton (#10) scrambling away from a female John Matuszak (#72).

She's met the Wife, met the Child, yet she won't leave me alone.

OUTRAGE BEYOND MEASURE! One day, on a perfectly uncrowded bus, she sits next to me, tells me she's an engineer, and engages me in nervous, awkward conversation.
FURTHER OUTRAGE! At the pathetic little street fair in our neighborhood, I run into her at the local Ace, and she insists upon meeting the Wife and Child, she engages them in nervous, awkward conversation, then runs home to complete her landscaping.
And in between, it's strained nods, hellos, and brief exchanges.
There is no escape!
WHEN WILL THIS NIGHTMARE END?!?!