When you wake up to rainbow outside your hotel room window, it will probably be a good day.

Ok, so as you might have noticed, I've been travelling between Atlanta and San Francisco for the past few weeks. Normally I return back on the Thursday night red-eye at 11:40pm, to arrive in Atlanta around 8am on Friday. This, because I have a gig on Friday nights that I have to prepare for.

Anyway, I snapped this shot at 7:50am on Friday. And guess what!! This is a picture of San Francisco! What gives? Well, I leave the client's pad around 7pm, meet up with Josh at the Thirsty Bear around 8:30pm. All is good. We down a few brews and some paella, catch up on things (he's recently broken up with his long-time worse half, Kim) and then I'm off to the airport.

I go to check in at the Delta Kiosk, and there's "a problem with your reservation, please see a kiosk agent for assistance." Well, I check with the kiosk chic, and she informs me that I've missed my flight. It's 10:30pm. My flight is in an hour and ten minutes. Rather, the flight that I thought I booked myself on. Turns out I had done a screwbooking. For the laypeople, and standpeople, that's my own term for making a reservation for a flight that you wouldn't usually take, and then forgetting about it and showing up for the flight you wanted to take). The screw was the 10:30pm flight with an hour layover in Cincinnati, which gets into Atlanta at 9:35am. Yuck. So, the nice chic rebooks me on the following flight in the morning, 8:35 am.

Interestingly, I go to the Crown Room to check in the next morning (no, I slept in a hotel, not the airport. I am a business traveller, not a hostel-using, backpack-toting, granola-bar-eating, deodorant-not-wearing hippie; meaning I did not sleep in the airport). The woman at the desk chuckles when she looks up my reservation, and then clues me in. Apparently the chic last night put a note in my reservation record when she rebooked me: "PAX was confused, but very sweet".

Must've been the Vienna Waltz microbrews from The Thirsty Bear.

The name says it all. From Wal-mart even. Read some of the interesting corporate spew from Grupo Bimbo.

I realize you can't read it, but what you have here is a 20 year old girl with a butt crack tattoo that says "Italian Princess".

Dare I ask why? No, I shouldn't dare. I'm not even really interested in the answer. What's more amusing is that this was taken in public, in the airport at 4pm on a Friday. On a train. Between concourses B and A. In Car #1. Like you care.

Ok so I violated FAA regulations and turned on an electronic device before the aircraft passed 10,000 feet. I usually ask myself, "passed 10,000 feet of what? And what was the plane eating that caused it to pass that much?".

Fecal jokes aside, what you're looking at is the Golden Gate Bridge and a nice chunk of San Francisco. My violation of FAA regs is your reward! PS the phone was actually off.

Another aerial shot of San Francisco; here you can just barely make out the toothpick and popsicle-stick Bay Bridge.

Wild Turkey - not only is it a nice bourbon, but it's also a description of the some of the locals around my client's campus. Who knew California had it all... wine, sun, and turkey droppings in the parking lot.

Well, the gig was a blast. I slept practically all day Friday after taking the red-eye home from San Francisco. Got up in time to relax a bit, then load the gear and run a few errands. We started about on time and played until well after 1 am.

We had quite a crowd of friends there, including Kim, Tony, Brian, Kristen, Holly, Sean, Davis, Debra, Michael, Tim and a few others. Fun was had by all.

See you there next Friday!!

Mullettime in San Fran. See, even metropolitan cities suffer the disparaging hairstyle, and most certainly lifestyle, that is.... The Mullet.

BJ has been waxing poetic about Squiggy, his new soon-to-be-bio-diesel Jetta. So, you've gotta wonder about where you can get bio-diesel. I mean, it says "bio" right in the name of the miracle juice, so you expect it to be something biological right? Right. I've got two words for you: dead cats.

Yep, some German guy found a way to recycle cats, and presumably other pets as well. No more will you have to slog through the local chinese restaurant's back lot to steal their waste fry-vat oil. Now, you just need to get real chummy with your local veterinarian so you can swap poop-scooping services for frozen Spots and Kittyboos. Wow, somewhere in there is a really strange coincidence what with the vet pet recycling and the chinese oil grabbing. Anyway.

Taking in a nice cab at Auberge Du Soleil in Napa. Widely recommended, highly overrated, drastically overpriced. At least the view was decent. The strange French muzak, er - muzaque, was really weird.

Auberge Du Soleil - the restaurant of the sun. Well, it's almost dusk here, so the name doesn't quite fit - but at least the view was decent. We just had a glass or two of wine and some horse doovers; just to say we'd been there/done that. Probably won't rebeen there or redo that anytime soon.

Here I am for another week of fun (not) in San Fran. Here's a quickie snappie of the Golden Gate Bridge.