Oh It Burns, It Burns

“Bellingham Bell[e]s, is that a girls team?” asked a friend in town for the weekend.

Onions Have Layers–Walla Walla, Not So Much

The Walla Walla Sweets beat the Bellingham Bells for the last two games of the regular season and your diarist is still a little sore about it. To play you out for the week, here is a song to highlight that sprawling metropolis’s second largest legitimate industry.

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Fast Food of the Future

Not sure whether to file this one under a bucking-the-trend story or slightly ahead of the curve.

Food carts are everywhere these days. Three taco trucks have even found their way to Lynden this summer. Also ever-present are stories about regulators harassing food carts at the behest of local restaurants that don’t want the leaner competition.

Last night, as I was about to cross the street to go to the Bellinham Bells game, I saw this:

Taco Time, for folks back East, is fast food taco chain concentrated in the Pacific Northwest. Taco Time is upscale compared to Taco Bell and the service is generally a whole lot better, but it’s nothing fancy.

The funky design of the Taco Time Traveler truck, coupled with the fact that this is a novelty coming from an actual restaurant, bade me stop and take a picture. I did not expect I’d be patronizing the cart, but they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.

Take this delicious taco, free:

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Darn You to Heck, Zach Galifianakis

Coming back from the Bellingham Bells game last night, I stopped at the usual cheap gas store on the Hannegan and the East Indian guy behind the counter again commented that I look like “that guy.” You know, the one from the movies.

“Zach Galifianakis,” I said, again.

“Yeah, the guy from Due Date,” he said. “Very funny.”

Normally, that’s where this Syssiphean exchange ends but last night he threw a curve ball by asking, “Do you do comedy too?”

Now I don’t know what came over me, but I decided to tell him a joke.

“So there’s this old couple,” I said, “and they’re walking along a beach.”

He nodded.

“The wife turns to the husband and says, ‘Dear, there’s something I have to tell you after all these years. I have always loved you but I haven’t exactly always been faithful to you.’

“And so he wants to know what the hell she means by that.

“She says, ‘Well, during our marriage, I have cheated on you three times.’

“And so the husband wants to know, ‘When were these three times?’”

Gas station guy’s eyes got bigger.

“She says, ‘Well the first time was, Do you remember when we were trying to get that loan for our first house and we were having a really hard time of it and the loan just seemed to miraculously come through?’

My cashier chin-checked that one along with the husband.

“She continues, ‘Well, I kind of, well dear I slept with the loan officer.’

The husband, I told him, kicks some sand and utters a mild swear under his breath, then says, “Now, I don’t think you should have done that, but it was a long time ago and you were trying to help us out, so I can forgive that one but-”

I paused and held up two fingers. East Indian dude focused on them like a laser beam.

“-what about the other two?’

“The wife says, ‘Well do you remember that time when you were really sick and the doctor came to the house and prescribed those antibiotics?’

“She explains, ‘Doctors, I found out, really hate making house calls. I finally had to sleep with one of them to get him out here.’”

My cashier laughed a little.

I went on, “The husband breathes a sigh of relief. He says, ‘OK, you were worried I was going to die, so I can understand that. Not a problem.’

“Then he adds, almost as an afterthought and with a dismissive wave of the hand, ‘What about the other one?’

“She says, ‘Well dear, do you remember that time when you were running for mayor and you were down by about 300 votes…’”

He didn’t get it.

Is Twitterpated the Right Word?

All you kids with your hip hop music and your social media, I tell you…

The powers that be at Patheos strongly encouraged me to expand this diary’s social media presence. I held out until fellow bearded ginger Catholic and Washingtonian Mark Shea pointed me to a service he uses to update both Facebook and Twitter without lifting a finger.

It’s called Deliver It (website here) and I highly recommend this service for those folks who are really into the Fourth Deadly Sin of sloth.

So if you want me to lead you on Twitter, dear reader, sign up for that here: https://twitter.com/jeremylottdiary

If you want to friend me on Facebook and get your updates there, this is the URL: http://facebook.com/jeremy.lott

Or you could just go old school: bookmark this site and check it regularly. That works too.

View From My Hammock

Yes, that is a cornfield over the back fence. Some Sunday night this month, a friend is going to put his portable but massive movie screen with projector in place and we’re going to watch Children of the Corn in front of all those ears. Pretty sure Stephen King would approve.

Hells Bells

The Bellingham Bells baseball game last night was highly contentious and a little bit tragic. The Bells overtook the Walla Walla Sweets’ early lead, then fell apart.

Both the coach and the starting pitcher got tossed for yelling at the umps over bad calls. The Bells almost but didn’t quite manage a 9th inning attempt to put the egg back together again. They lost 7-6.

Tom Hanks reminded us that there is no crying in baseball. Yet shouldn’t there be an exception when you lose to a team whose city is known globally for its onions? (Or its prison, thanks to The Offspring.)

Tonight is the last game of the season, with fireworks after. Of course I’ll be there. Saturday is the only guaranteed home game of post-season play. Unless they’ve sold out by the time the box office opens tonight, your diarist’s attendance there is a lock.

“Why?” you might wonder:

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