California, California HERE WE COME (Please have Alex Greenwald singing)!

The Tinga scheme didn't work; she pulled a fast one on us. Instead of waiting for the suitcases to be hauled out of the hotel room to begin her ritual, she acted preemptively. So, again, mom and I were on our hands and knees. I felt like Fester from the 3 Ninjas, "I don't want to hurt you. I just want to kidnap you!" Eventually we found the little devil hiding underneath my bed.

Today, oh today, was PINBALL HALL OF FAME (http://www.pinballmuseum.org/)!! Mom and I spent two hours and twenty dollars playing all the different (100+, well we didn't play all of them) pinball machines. I kept thinking about how jealous Ben would have been. To rub it in: boyfriend, this was way better, WAY BETTER, than Ground Kontrol. Most of the clientele were older men who probably called in "sick" to work. A much more satisfying way to spend a day, if you ask me. Unfortunately, mom and I didn't win a free game, proving that we are not pinball wizards. I guess we didn't have any of that The Who mojo. However, we did get copious, just like Bob Dylan's lyrics (that joke's for you Melinda), free and multi-ball action. Out of all that were tried, my top three favorite machines were (in decreasing order): 1. The Simpsons, 2. Austin Powers and 3. Batman. Yes, yes I know. All newer models. Mom was frugal and spent most of her quarters doing the older, cheaper pinball machines. But, by the end, she had come around to the five balls per game of the newer ones and found The Haunted House to be her favorite.

We splurged for lunch and ate at the Hard Rock Cafe. Our waiter had "Texas Made" tattooed on his forearm like he was a Ford Truck. Also, the bathrooms smelled putrid. No joke, this was the worst thing I have ever smelled in my entire life. I couldn't breathe and it smelled exactly how I would imagine a rotting corpse to smell. Perhaps all the old rockers are buried in the woman's bathroom walls. Apparently the smell was so awful I found the need to share this.

The drive into California was long. Right when you enter the state from Nevada the road becomes a steep, curving incline. It goes from 2,000 ft in elevation to 5,000. Dear Lord, I did not think Bowser was going to make it. I had the gas pedal hitting the floor boards and I watched it slowly decrease in speed and Little Engine it's way up the mountain. Even the big semi's were passing us. It felt like that scene from Odd Couple 2 where Oscar & Felix were in the car, watching school buses and bicyclers and mountain hikers whiz by faster than their ride. But, in the end Bowser prevailed!

R.I.P. cell phone. I guess it just couldn't handle the desert.

We're in San Diego (which means, "a whale's vagina" according to the Anchorman, Will Ferrell) and plan on spending a couple of days here. And the reason why: TRISTAN MICHAEL LIVES IN THIS CITY.

(This post is about February 2)