Last night, George Lucas was supposed to come into my restaurant. It would have been his third visit, and seeing as our place is on his property (and next door to Lucasfilm, Lucasarts, and ILM) its probably a comfortable place for him to dine. So imagine my dismay when his table of four sat, and George was nowhere to be found. Supposedly the guy that made the reso called himself "the other George Lucas." Coincidence that he happened to book at a restaurant on the real George Lucas's property? I think not. So today, as I ate my cereal and drank my coffee, I channel surfed onto Howard the Duck. It was like a double Lucas slap in the face.
Im moving this weekend. We found a place thats more or less twice as big, for five dollars less a month. Thats a cup of blue bottle. Our new landlord is....old. And crazy as shit. But a little more room will be nice.
My walk home the other night yielded some nice pics...
This last one is of the party next door. Its funny, a year of living here, and only in my last week do I see a party going on.
Much, much more later.