We officially kicked off the start of wedding season, and the first wedding we attended happened in San Diego, as two of our favorites friends wed. We've been to a ludicrous number of weddings, and never before have I seen as much fun and laughter on the altar as at this wedding. A very delightful couple indeed.

After the ceremony I continued my garter catching streak. At some point I need to stop catching the garters, because if police raid the apartment they're going to have me psychologically profiled over the collection (not that I'm busy preserving them in glass cases like a butterfly collection). I have enough that I can probably make a dress suit entirely out of garters (the complete opposite material of choice compared to Buffalo Bill). And people thought that leisure suits were a bold statement. And with weddings coming up in May (Brazil), July (Oklahoma), August (Texas), and October (Boston), the garter collection might grow enough to allow me to also make a top hat and/or cape.

This wedding had two unique things from most weddings. First, the DJ did not play the Chicken Dance song. This is good. It is sad that people are hesitant to dance to an incredible song, such as Etta James singing "At Last", but they can't get on the dance floor fast enough when they have to dance like a chicken at increasingly faster speeds. What happened to our dignity, white people at weddings? Second, they had a photo booth. And wherever there is a photo booth, my goal is to be in it the most. Here are the best of photos:

Kinder eggs are the best. They're a delicious source of both chocolate and, perhaps more importantly, toys. Inside each egg is a yellow capsule that contains a toy. And it isn't a crappy, let down of a toy like you find in McDonald's Happy Meals, but a quality toy.

Sometimes the toys are a bit uninteresting, but they're always good.

A co-worker gave me an egg on Friday, and inside I found a rather marvelous 21.5cm by 18cm glider cleverly packaged in to that tiny yellow capsule.

Genius.

Pure German Genius.

Tonight I embarked on a leisurely quest to read my blog from the earliest post to the present over the course of the next few weeks.

I'll be honest and admit that I find the quest to be equal parts pleasure, pain, and penguin. To read them is like venturing back to a literary hit-and-run accident that I've fled (apparently for good reasons). I return to find myself guilt stricken and embarrassed, especially since the earliest posts often read as though I had hired a sixth grader to ghostwrite. And even then that borders on giving my writing too much credit.

However, I do look forward to my later posts where I know there is a more developed sense of direction (that'a'way), style (less typos) and purpose (fame?) to this place and my writing. And I'll enjoy re-encountering some of the great memories, stories, and incidents that have been documented and tucked away in the recesses. But first, I must slog my way through the crap.

And if you ever decide to take up the quest, be warned that I mention listening to Coldplay too often. And that is because I have probably listened to their first two albums more than anyone else on the planet. I don't mean that as a broad generalization. I literally mean that and not "literally" used in the wrong way ("the donuts were so good that I literally sold my dog in to slavery").

I mean that I played those albums back-to-back, on repeat, without end for semesters. At one point I had played the two albums, in their entirety, over 3,000 times. At a total of 1 hour 36 minutes 12 seconds for both albums, that converts to a tiny bit more than 200 days. At one point I had listened to them so much that I would become physically ill if I heard tracks from either album. And I'd estimate that I've played the albums closer to 4,000 by now.

I've become fascinated that most of us have never had to make a difficult decision. Yes, we've all made decisions that felt difficult at the time, but most likely those decisions had little more than a superficial impact on someone else. I am not sure if I can think of a more fortunate thing.

Such good fortune is due to a large combination of good luck and privilege for most of us. Though neither will continue without break, I hope they do continue in abundance for everyone. I hope that we will never have to:

• Decide where to hide from a lethal enemy
• Make decisions of triage
• Choose which child to feed today due to a lack of food
• Pick the soldiers to be sent forth
• Determine whether deep down Pluto is still a planet

However, I do hope that most of us get to make some of the more pleasant difficult decisions that are of a lighter nature:

• Whom to marry
• What city to live in
• What name to not give your child
• What name to give your child
• Which version of Monopoly to purchase

I don't yearn to make difficult decisions, but thinking about their often long absences in life highlights how odd it is that we devote more than a fleeting moment of thought to lesser decisions. Hell, we often don't even have to make complex decisions. And keeping all of that in mind allows for simpler decision making, such as should I go to Brazil for a wedding? At first, I thought perhaps not. Then I remembered how often that choice never presents itself and how fortunate I am that it has been presented. So yes, I will go!

Other recent decisions that I could have made in less than ten seconds but debated internally:

• What color to play as in Settlers of Catan? (Red)
• The number of nights we will spend in Brazil? (Eight)
• Which flavor of Häagen-Daz ice cream to buy? (Vanilla)
• What book to read next? (Blood Meridian)
• Whether to make more popcorn? (YES)

My parents came to San Francisco, and we had a great time. We spent most of our time wandering museums, walking around the city, and sitting outside of coffee shops.

We encountered a random accordion/bass duet, who were dancing up a storm and singing songs about chickens.

The Art of the Maharaja exhibit at the Asian Art Museum. The art below is the promotional art and not the actual art and treasure showcased by the exhibit.

At the Asian Art Museum we encountered this wonderfully dressed beauty. A real life Little Miss Muffet, perhaps?

We all made dear friends with a furry rat, who did not later turn out to be Peter Pettigrew.

Of course we had an obligatory wine tasting.

At the Legion of Honor's exhibit on the Cult of Beauty, we found two portrait models sitting outside. I love the contrast of her hair to the undergarments. It is unfortunate the photograph doesn't have a kinder background.

And of course a smile resulting from a good day and a delicious cup of gelato.

Today is a big day.

My as-of-yet unnamed friend, who is a Space Commander 167 series robot from the Gentlemen's Intergalactic Space League of Explorers, just arrived from Quadrant 15776-16A. That particular quadrant is about a bajillion light years from the Milky Way, is a vaguely royal purple when viewed in the appropriate spectrum, and is known for having a light smell of cinnamon (due to a freak incident involving a supernova in the inner-Cinnamon planetary system caused by the Inner Sanctum of Evil Robots).

On the front he has a bow tie, because he is classy, and a dial (because robots need those); a vent to dissipate heat from his power cell (one of the new eco-friendly Reactionary Voltaic Thermonuclear 5th generation energy cells); and a space ship so you know what he drives. When he presses the space ship button, his ship comes to the rescue or delivers items from Amazon's Intergalactic Prime service.

His waist has an energy gauge, a standard 3 prong plug so he can either recharge himself or provide power to other devices (120v or 220v), an Intergalactic Space League logo, and a light switch that lets him switch between classy mode and explorer mode.

In back he has two spare batteries, an access panel, and an extra processor.

His right should features an extra gear, because robots have lots of those. And his right arm is an awesome multifunction gravity beam / laser gun / fax / scanner / condiment dispensing unit complete with a dial for changing up the settings and a green F-AMOLED readout (the F is for "Futuristic") that shows the current power level of the gravity beam / laser gun / fax / scanner / condiment.

I had a free movie ticket that expired right before the holidays, so Laura and I headed to the movie theater. We'd already seen the incredibly good Muppet movie, so Hugo in 3D seemed to be the next best option.

We were wrong. Let me start with a small piece of praise; visually the movie is stunning. It moves too slowly. Fifteen minutes in I started looking at my wrist watch. The plot is beyond predictable since nothing of interest actually happens, and the lack of plot means there is no plot twist. The climax of the movie is massively anticlimactic, and in general the movie fails to provide anything that would actually present a good experience.

Also, Hugo is a retard. The entire movie could be avoided if he had simply said "Sir, I need that sketch book back because it is the last item I have of my father." He has about 10 chances to utter that sentence, and he is too dumbfounded by an ignorant brain to utter the needed words.

And as an orphan he is in constant fear of being caught and thrown in to an orphanage by the train station's master. Once he does get caught, does he explain to the station master "My uncle disappeared, and I am the one who has been maintaining your clocks? See, I am useful!" But no, he keeps his mouth shut.

What a little twit.

The glory that is THE FRIDAY POLE!

Last Tuesday (November 8th, 2011) I took an empty tube from a roll of plotter paper and wrote the word "Friday" all over it in about 30 languages (Thanks, Google Translate). Thus, the "Friday Pole" was born. Then I threaded ethernet cable through it, tied the ends together, and wore it around the office last Friday to celebrate Friday. Now whenever Friday rolls around, I have a way to celebrate.

Perks of the pole:

1. Energy Saved: I can put Post-It notes on the end and use the pole to reach people 42" sooner than I normally would.
2. Pretend it is a quiver and then shoot invisible arrows around the office all afternoon.
3. Herald the good news that Friday has arrived.

It looks like this:

ENHANCE!

ENHANCE!

Celebrating Friday doesn't get enhanced by cardboard much better than this. Yesterday I saw 3 border collies in one day, which was awesome. If I could transpose those events to today, that would make for an better Friday, but instead it just made for a better Thursday.

Most of my coworkers understand the Friday pole (and during the week ask about its pending appearance). But it seems to create confusion as well:

Person: "What is that?"
Me: "The Friday Pole."
Person: "What is that?"
Me: "A pole that I wrote the 'Friday' all over in multiple languages."
Person: "Why?"
Me: "So that everyone will know it is Friday."
Person: *Very puzzled look*
Me: "I don't know how else to explain it."

I am always afraid that when the weekend arrives I'll find myself with nothing to do. But then a pile of events always slides in, in the same manner Indian Jones always dives under a closing door of stone at the last possible moment. This is partially why I have such a hell of a time keeping a consistently updated blog.

As of last Friday morning not much had been planned for the weekend. Then in the afternoon a friend offered us leftover tickets to see the Scottish band "We Were Promised Jet Packs" play at a conveniently located venue that is a 90-second walk from the apartment.

Saturday morning found us jumping in a BMW 328i (hurray for Zipcar!) and, at a completely legal speed, zipping across the Bay Bridge to Alameda for a birthday brunch for the wife of my comedic soulmate. Stomachs filled with homemade French toast, quiche, and sausage, and arms weary from holding a 4 month old, we headed for Concord to enjoy our friends' newly renovated fireplace.

Being too warm to use the fireplace, we sat outside and petted the neighbor's whorishly friendly cat. Then to see "Puss n' Boots". We weren't dying to see the movie, but little else is playing. As I entered the theater the ticket taker questioned my choice of movies and offered:

"If you like smoking pot, see Harold and Kumar. Otherwise see Immortals."

After the quite uninteresting movie finished, we headed to Barnes and Noble. All of the chain bookstores in SF have closed, and being in a gigantic bookstore is once again a coveted moment. As I picked up each book, noticed the steep price, and thought "I should really buy this, on Amazon", I drifted towards the overpriced DVD and Bluray section.

I've been meaning to get Avatar on Bluray. The manager found the only remaining copy-- the overpriced, extended, gazillion dollar version-- behind the counter. He offered to ring it up when my eyes saw it: The Complete Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman' box set on DVD.

For a moment I debated having him ring up Avatar, only to interrupt him with urgency and say:

"Wait, no! What is that? Is that Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman? Forget Avatar. I NEED Quinn."

Purchasing and then returning the set the following day would have been worth it just to give the manager an odd story to tell for the following month.

After that, we headed to Fairfield to see Laura's parents, who are spending the week in Napa tasting the sweet victor that is man's domination over grapevines.

Sunday started early with a trip to Church. Followed by a long, enjoyable walk to the SF MOMA. On the way we stopped in an Arabic supermarket and then at Honey Honey for the best crepes in the city, before arriving at the MOMA to renew our membership and wandering around aimlessly for an hour. After that, we stopped for cream puffs at Beard Papa and headed home.

At this point, it is only 2pm on Sunday.

I started watching Avatar, which I've not seen since theater. I'd completely forgotten how absolutely gorgeous that movie is, especially on a perfectly color balanced HD TV. In fact, it looks better on my TV than it did in theater. And I can claim this because I saw all three versions of the movie in theater (non-digital, digital non-3d, and digital 3d).

Next I read Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for a bit and finally found time to rest.

And that is what my typical weekend tends to look like. For some reason I feel like I never do anything, but when I stop and look back at it, I definitely don't waste more than a few moments during a weekend.

Monday a new guy named Pedro joined our IT team. He works for our New York City office, and yesterday afternoon he had his first team phone call with us. About sixty seconds in to the call our boss Chris had to take another call for a moment.

Chris: "Everyone is on the line. I won't take the time to introduce the entire team over the phone. But I will introduce Pedro... [brief intro]... Sorry guys. I've got to take another call for a moment. Talk amongst yourselves."

I couldn't let the moment pass with normal banter when there a perfect opportunity to completely confuse Pedro existed. Aside from our boss and his office mate, he hasn't had real interactions with the rest of us, aside from phone interviews, so he had no idea what to expect.

Me (in a very monotone, uninspired, dry voice): "Welcome to the team. We're……….. really ….. awesome."

*Some laughter from the rest of the line.*

Me (super dry): "Do you like Celine Dion?"

I love it. His first chance to interact with the team, and the first question asked is whether he likes Celine Dion. He obviously wanted to make a good impression and definitely doesn't care for Celine Dion, but he didn't want to say that because Celine seems to be important to our team for some reason. He then proceeded to spend the next several sentences politely saying he doesn't like her music.

Pedro: "… so I don't always like every performer or artist, but I do listen to some of every genre..."

Me (interrupting him): "So you're okay with New Age Ska?"

Pedro (highly baffled and confused): "What?"

At that point, as a team we lost it and couldn't keep it up any more. We just died laughing.

Chris: "Okay, I am back. We're just going to move past the current conversation."