gamo*phi parade

Take THAT Uncle Sam!

So on Valentine's Day, Nikki and I went to this Moroccan restaurant on Sunset called Dharma and Greg Dar Maghreb. It was quite an experience. We entered the restaurant to find ourselves in a courtyard-ish (but inside) entryway with a fountain and tiled pillars and everything. The place was quite huge and had more of a center-type feeling than a restaurant. The lighting was a little brighter than one would wish and the ceiling was high, making even the tall guys feel a little small...it gave it a bit of a cold feeling. The restaurant was a bit more of a show if anything, from it's Morrocan decor to the server's outfits to the belly dancers (with whom my girlfriend insisted on putting money down their pants...I didn't mind so much). The only thing stopping this place from becoming a Medieval Times was that it actually had Moroccan food (or what I would assume food from that region would be like). There were no burgers and steaks in sight. I realize that this isn't a very good review of this restaurant, but I'm still glad we went there. Really, I am. Now, would I go back? Nah.

Well, my whole point in telling you about this restaurant was to talk about our server. He was this sweet, a bit goofy, total hippie guy. I don't remember his name so I'll just call him Bart (and maybe that's for the better). He was tall, red-headed with long hair in a pony tail and a goatee/beard. The guy looked like he was from Berkeley. We were wrong. He was from Venice. Nikki is always very interested in hearing people's stories and knowing where they are from, so of course she asked what his deal was. He told us this great story about him. When he was born in 1968, his mother decided not to report his birth to the government. Being a hippie mother at that time, she was concerned about her son's future and the possibility of him being drafted when he turned 18. She thought she solved this problem by not reporting his birth. A doctor friend of theirs delivered Bart in their home and just never reported him. She basically hid him from the government. It was wonderful in theory. Bart would never pay taxes, never be drafted. Then he turned 5. And it was time to enroll him in school. Shit is right. Without a social security number they could not enroll him and he could not get a passport to travel out of the country. So they filed for a delayed birth certificate (which apparently is all black with white lettering) and got him a social security number and passport. Even though his birth certificate says 1968, his passport says 1973. Fucking awesome. Who does that?! Who thinks like that?! I just thought this was the wildest thing.

Bee Careful

A funny thing happened to me today. I was...riding along in my automobile...da doo da doo da doo da doo...and my driver side window was down about 2½ inches. Suddenly I felt like something had hit my hair and so I flipped my hair back (or something of that variation with my short 'do). I continued driving for about a minute then looked over to my window to find a BUMBLE BEE(!) crawling on the INSIDE of my car. I fuh-lipped out. I quickly rolled down my window (what is the automatic version of this phrase?) and hoped the bee would fly out of the car. Of course, sensing the force of wind, the bee instead flew back into my car. And now, I don't know where it is. It could still be in there for all I know. For the remainder of my drive I rolled down ALL the windows, including the sunroof. I left the top open when I left my car in the garage. Hopefully, when I get off work, I'll find that a) my car is still there and b) the bee is gone. Fingers crossed.