Monday, February 05, 2007

soulmaster reunion

I suppose consolations are in order for the great state of Texas.

Yet another of the Lone Star's finest native sons has answered the call of manifest destiny and moved to Southern California. As of last week, Mr. Seth Hardage has cast his lot with the Pierpoint crew, trading in the Christian cabbage patch of West Texas for this desolate pagan wasteland. A land of state income tax, bland Mexican food and missed exits. But Vegas is only four hours away, so that alone rounds out the "pros" column.

Over the past two years, I have known about a dozen people who have said, "Hey Hoov, I'm going to move to California! Oh wait - no I'm not because I'm a big wuss!" But not Seth. He called and said, "Hey Hoov, I'm going to move to California!" And before I even shut my flip-phone, he was pulling up in his truck, motorcycle in tow.

The first thing that Seth did upon arrival was unilaterally assign himself as my work-out partner. He then proceeded to cripple me. Seth was formerly employed as a personal trainer, and before that he enjoyed a brief stint as a Navy SEAL. This has been quite an adjustment for me, as my work-out goals are, I dunno... don't get too fat. Whereas Seth's fitness goals seem to involve either world conquest or cage fighting.

In other news - I won a big case. Sadly, this makes for a completely uninteresting story, as I won it with the moving papers, i.e. - all of the boring stuff that transpires before the trial. It's hard to impress chicks with, "my general and specific demurrers to all causes of action were sustained without leave to amend". But that's ok - because nothing impresses the ladies like floral photography. And by "impress" I mean, "makes them think I'm gay."