Last Saturday, I went with Kristin and Kat to ComFest, Columbus’s annual community festival. This was my first year going. For the uninitiated, ComFest is basically an excuse for the whole of Columbus to meander to a park downtown, get sozzled, and generally just party. There is an abundance of good food, music, shops, and other activities that can easily keep a person occupied all day long.

I was in the mood for beer before we even got to Columbus, and once there, after about 20 minutes of roasting under the sun, I was ready to sell my unborn child for a drink. Unfortunately, the lines to first buy beer tokens, and then to get the actual beer were horrendous and slow moving. So instead I got lemonade.

One of the unusual things about the festival is that, by a delightful quirk in Columbus law, women are legally permitted to go topless. Something about a court declaring years ago that there’s no difference between a man and a woman being outside without a shirt. I don’t know all the details, but I wasn’t complaining. Suffice to say there were a fair number of breasts on display, usually covered with colorful body paint.

After leaving ComFest, we embarked on a mission to acquire hotdogs at Dirty Frank’s. It was tasty as usual, and more importantly, I finally got a beer.

That’s Tom Wilson and I, after his show at the Funny Bone Sunday.

None of the things I was not so secretly hoping would happen did actually happen, but I wasn’t disappointed. Wilson’s set was a lot of fun, and in addition to being legitimately funny, he surprised me by playing the guitar and singing pretty well.

One of the first things he did after taking the stage was say, “Let’s get over the Back to the Future stuff right off the bat,” and he somewhat cheekily rattled off a few of Biff Tannen’s more popular lines, to the audience’s delight.

Then he picked up the guitar and proceeded to sing “The Question Song” — embedded below — which he said “would save everyone some time after the show.”

Having paid proper homage to his BACK TO THE FUTURE past, he moved onto some other subjects, including a clever song about his daughter and about playing football at a drama school. He also interacted with the audience, picking on a couple of people whose tables were right next to the stage. This included a dudebro-ish looking fellow whose nickname was — and I’m not making this up, I swear — “The Beef,” and another guy who runs a rehab center. So thank Cthulhu Kristin and I’s table was slightly removed from the stage, or I’m fairly certain I would have been embarrassed in some way.

And then after the show I picked up a copy of his DVD, and he was kind enough to pose for the photo. Though I’m fairly certain that’s a taser in his hand. Fortunately he didn’t have to use it. At least not on me.

Going to the Funny Bone tonight to see Thomas Wilson (Biff Tannen of the BACK TO THE FUTURE trilogy) perform. I am secretly hoping that Old Biff will show up to harangue his younger self and give him a mysterious gift.

That, or, for a grand finale, I’d settle for watching him wreck a ’46 Ford convertible into a manure cart on the main street of the Greene.

(Posted via mobile phone from Joshua Bales’s Posterous.)

My dad went in today for surgery to remove a small piece of bone that has been pinching his sciatic nerve for the last month. Since he couldn’t sit or lie down for more than an hour or so at a time without his leg being in excruciating pain, he hasn’t been able to get more than three of four cumulative hours of sleep a night for the past several weeks.

It makes for a rather unpleasant existence, being constantly exhausted and in pain, and generally unable to relax for any extended period of time. Of late, my dad had begun to resemble one of the walking dead: shambling around town, his right foot, which had been rendered somewhat useless from the pinched nerve, dragging as he went. Constantly seeking out brains, but always unsuccessful in his quest. But unlike our zombie brethren, instead of brains, he would have been happy with a good night’s sleep.

He finally got in to see a neurosurgeon yesterday, who upon seeing the results from the tests, immediately said, “Yep, gonna have to operate on that sumbitch,” or something to that effect. Fortunately, the doctor had an opening today at the hospital, so they were able to operate right away.

So that is how my mom, sister, and I ended up spending the day in a nicely appointed hospital waiting room. My dad went in to surgery prep around 11:30, and by 5:30 he was out of surgery and in the recovery room.

When my mom talked to him briefly afterwards, he was happy to report that, although sore from the surgery, his leg was feeling fine. He’ll come home tomorrow, and by month’s end he should hopefully be back to his normal, non-zombie-like self.

As to why this post is called “Back Surgery and Caramel Sundaes” . . . Well: while we were waiting with my dad inside the surgery prep room, my mom looked at the caramel-colored IV bag full of blood platelets feeding into his arm, and remarked, “A caramel sundae sounds pretty good right now.”

Only my mother.

The weather is gorgeous and warm this evening, and I’m enjoying the hell out of it. Currently I am ensconced on my back porch, sipping a Sprite Zero and trying not to engage in a staring contest with my neighbor across the way, with semi-successful results.

This past Saturday found me attending two birthday parties. They couldn’t have been any more different from each other, but both were a hell of a lot of fun.

The first was being thrown for my adorable devildaughter, Kennedy, who was turning two that day. Her parents had apparently decided that they wanted to make it as stressful as possible for themselves, so the party was of course held at Chuck E Cheese’s.

There’s something kind of overwhelming about being in a cavernous room full of frenzied toddlers and dazzlingly colorful machines blaring music at you. Kind of like being in a casino, but with a bunch of tiny people and less alcohol.

Kristin and Lindsey were there as well, which helped make things a little less maddening. We ate some surprisingly good pizza, then wandered about, participating in a multitude of games of skill and chance and being rewarded with tickets instead of money. Which I suppose is more than most people get from a casino.

The little monster was kind enough to sit still long enough for me to snap a photo, before the sugar rush from the cake could take hold.

And then later on that evening, Kristin threw a birthday party for two of her best friends, Amanda and Kat, that was also sort of a “Christ, it finally feels like Spring” party. A number of their other friends showed up, most of them charming people, and we spent the majority of the night drinking and scheming on the back porch.

(Left to right: Kristin, Lauren, Kat, Little Kristin, and Amanda.)

I tried a mojito for the first time, and it turned out to be quite delectable. Although I’m told it wasn’t a proper mojito, since these were made with Sprite Zero instead of club soda. Still: damned tasty, and probably better anyway, seeing as I don’t really care for club soda.

A few people stayed the night in a tent in the backyard. I, of course, was not one of them. My idea of roughing it is sleeping in a bed inside a house where the air conditioning isn’t turned on. They seemed to enjoy it though. Nutters.

So all in all, ’twas a very pleasant party-filled day indeed.

Been a pretty good day so far. Woke up early and saw Kristin off to work, then went on my morning constitutional before the weather could transition from Pleasant Spring Happy Time into Sweltering Summer Death Day. I came home, applied for a few jobs, and have just now finished excreting several satisfying hundred words of a short story.

And in a couple of hours I am going to see THOR.

Tomorrow I am off to Columbus for a long weekend with the lady. I am very much looking forward to several days of gorging myself at delicious restaurants, perusing used book stores, and just generally bumming around Columbus and relaxing.

For entertainment during downtime, I’m bringing J.G. Ballard’s CONCRETE ISLAND to read, and the sixth season of BUFFY for us to watch. I’m hopeful the hotel also has a bar, in which case I anticipate spending some time there, too.

And for those of you who are religious . . . well, have a pleasant Zombification Celebration Day.

Yesterday I went with Kristin and several of her delightful friends to see a two-person performance of HEDWIG AND THE ANGRY INCH at Club Vex in Dayton.

Due to size limitations, the audience was small but enthusiastic, and rightfully so. The two actors, JJ Parkey and Abigail Bengson, were phenomenal. I had never seen HEDWIG the film, so we watched it beforehand so I wouldn’t be completely fucking lost during the live presentation. The film was really good, and the songs alternately amusing and touching, but in my mind it didn’t quite compare to the electric experience of seeing it performed some twenty feet in front of you by a couple of extremely talented people.

They’re putting on another performance tonight, this time at MJ’s in Dayton. If you’re not already doing something, go see it. Tickets cost no more than going to see a movie, and it’s well worth your money. Check out the Facebook page for more info.

Been back from California for a week, but I’ve been a little too busy until now to do a proper write-up of the trip. Here’s the highlights version, with some bonus! photos.

The trip was a great success and, unsurprisingly, a hell of a lot of fun. We — “we” being my Pop and I — managed to see and do quite a bit in just a couple of days.

On the first day we explored bits of L.A. and did a lot of the tourist-y yet fun things one does. Of course, said touristing started out with getting our pictures taken with the Hollywood sign in the background.

As my friend Lauren said, it’s like the American equivalent of getting one’s picture taken holding up the Tower of Pisa.

Next, we hiked up Hollywood Blvd for a while, taking in such sights as Grauman’s Chinese Theatre and Madame Tussauds. We didn’t go into either of them, as they were already busy and time wouldn’t really permit, but being able to see them up close was pretty damn cool. And for a small donation, I was able to get my picture taken with Yoda.

If they’re reduced to posing for photos with tourists, then clearly the Jedi have fallen on hard times.

I also took a quick shot of this Scientology Testing Center, then took off before the folks inside could sic their pet Xenu on me.

We drove through Beverly Hills afterwards, taking in all the very gorgeous and expensive homes. I kept hoping I’d see a celebrity walking around so I could stick my head out the window and shriek, “OH MY GOD IT’S BRAD PITT!” Alas, I saw none.

The whole of Beverly Hills is just stupid nice and fancy. This façade of luxury extends even to their retail chains.

(Photo by Liz Hall)

Honestly, I think that this image is the one that’ll stick with me whenever I think of the Hills in the future.

Our last stop for the day was Chinatown, because, really. There’s just something inherently wrong if a person visits L.A. and doesn’t take time out to visit Chinatown.

Throngs of tourists clogged the shops and restaurants lining the streets, and that was entertaining, but what was really fascinating was diverting from the main areas into some of the smaller plazas and shops. These were mostly filled with Chinese people and were less tourist-oriented. It felt more like what my mental image of Chinatown was.

I feel kind of bad that we didn’t get any authentic Chinese cuisine. We weren’t terribly hungry, so instead we bought a couple of hotdogs from a Mexican street vendor. It was delicious.

The next day we drove over to Redondo Beach, and wandered around the pier and boardwalk for a while. I took in the agglomeration of sailboats that filled the marinas, and silently schemed on how I could get one.

We, along with a group of Japanese tourists, watched on as a couple of pelicans pester the fishermen on the pier. The pelicans would brazenly approach them hoping to snatch up any little fishies that would be dropped on the ground.

Lunch was had at Tony’s, this wonderfully nautical-looking seafood joint situated on the pier that overlooked the water. I won’t lie: I sort of fell in love with it. It’s everything that I think a seafood restaurant should be.

We also played ski ball in a rundown arcade — the Fun Factory — that didn’t appear to have been updated since the early Nineties. I tried to engage my dad in a game of Pong on this ancient black-and-white machine, but the second player’s wheel didn’t work, which seemed sort of fitting.

And I was able to finally dip my feet in the Pacific Ocean.

The rest of the trip was fun, but my dad had meetings during the day, so I mostly hung around Long Beach, where our hotel was. I whiled away my mornings visiting used book stores, and the afternoons and evenings were spent drinking beer, writing, and just generally being a lazy bastard. It was wonderful.

I’ve got more photos up on Flickr and Facebook, should you care to peruse them. And if you’re not interested . . . well, then, you can sod off.

Am currently sitting in a little Mexican cantina in LAX, nursing a Dos Equis and taking a short break from reading and people watching. There’s a little atrium thing filled with an assortment of wilting plants separating the cantina from the rest of the airport, which creates a nice, somewhat secluded-feeling space in which to relax. I devoured some delicious enchiladas earlier and am thinking about ordering another ridiculously overpriced beer.

I had to get up at stupid o’clock this morning to catch a 5:30 flight out of Dayton. With the change in time zones, I landed in Los Angeles at 9:50 local time. Everything went smoothly, thank god. I made my connecting flight easily enough and even managed to grab a couple of hours of shuteye on the plane. Now I just have to wait several more hours for my dad’s plane to come in, and then we can get the rental car and go collapse and die at the hotel.

He’s here for work for a couple of days, and I am just tagging along because I am a gentleman of leisure and that is what we gentlemen of leisure do. We’re here a couple of days before his meetings, so tomorrow and Monday we’ll be doing touristy stuff, and then Tuesday and Wednesday I will be entertaining myself. I’m confident I’ll be able to do so. The hotel has a bar, after all, and I would like to get some writing done.

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My birthday was yesterday. I am now 29. I got to say, it doesn’t feel any different than being 28 did. And I suspect turning 30 will not feel much different either. Went out with my parents and grandfather last night to celebrate, and Kristin came along to meet them for the first time. It all went rather well, I think. They didn’t seem to immediately despise each other, and really appeared to get on famously. Which, you know, always makes things easier for me.

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A couple of weeks back Kristin and I were at the Webster Street Market and some lady from the DAYTON DAILY NEWS asked us what we thought about vinyl records slowly creeping back into the mainstream. Our responses were posted yesterday in the DDN’s Chatterbox section.

All I can focus on is how awful I look in the picture she took.

# # #

There was a sort of birthday celebration for me going on the other day, which also happened to include the ladies dyeing their hair. Afterwards, there was some black hair dye left over, so they asked if I’d like to dye my hair. To which I said, “Why not?”

The results:

And that’s what I’ve been up to lately.