Comin' Up Hughge.

Crap. I've been listening to too much Mr. Big in the last 48 hours. Too much being two spins of Lean Into It, 75% of a spin through Mr. Big, and one spin through that tribute album, plus two listens to the King's X cover. Was King's X good? I knew they were kind of god rock, but the guitar tone is good enough to eat.

Speaking of guitar good enough to eat, Paul Gilbert is the shit. Alternate picking, string-skipping badass. I had the prototype of his signature model guitar as my first real guitar (post-B.C. Rich Warlock). It was an Ibanez RG770 with a pearl sharktooth inlay (not that lame blue) and is becoming increasingly rare and expensive and just makes that fact that it was stolen a little bit harder to deal with. It even had my name airbrushed on it and a bunch of reflectors from the hardware store, but it played any style like a motherfucker just like Paul Gilbert. How suiting?

So, beyond that, I have a story.

About three years ago, I used to commute to work with my roommate at the time. We'll call it an extreme roommate in the eyes of the law. God, the eyes of the law, lately. I feel like Al Capone or Tupac when I see a cop now. I'm afraid to visit my own dad for fear of being arrested. Anyway, back to the roommate commuter. We would go to this Starbucks when I forgot to make coffee in the morning and there was this lady that was like meth crazy at 6:45 in the morning. It always made us wonder how someone could be that with it that early in the morning. So, that's the crazy Starbucks lady.

I get divorced and move out and move closer to work. I'm doing laundry one day and the Starbucks lady is at the washer next to me. I thought it was insane. So, that was three years ago and I had to text my old roommate and let her know. Communications were a little tense around that time, so a text was all that was suitable.

On my first birthday post-separation (divorce got hung up in paperwork forever), I treated myself to a bought-from-the-coffee-shop-coffee because I was either making it at home or making it at work since my commute was now just over 7 minutes to work. I walked in and there she was. So, that was two years ago.

I started going to the Starbucks on Sunday mornings and getting my crossword puzzle on for a while and getting back into the bought coffee thing while trying to drown out their fucking music with my iPod. This, in turn, lead to treating myself to a bought coffee every once in a while on the way to work. It's the Starbucks lady's shift in the morning on weekdays.

So, she started to recognize me from the apartment complex and then one day I talked to her and her husband by the pool after about a gazillion beers. That was six months ago.

Since then, she calls me "neighbor" when I go in and pulls me out of line to make me a Venti Non-Fat Vanilla Latte which is my weekend coffee because drip is for weekdays just like underwear is.

The other day, she stopped by my apartment to see where I had been and what happened to my head and was super nice, I think. She had an accent, so I may have misunderstood everything like how a dog responds to tone when you yell at it with compliments. Wait. I might be the only person that does that, but anyways. The other day she even left a pound of coffee hanging from my doorknob for me when I came home from work.

And the sun starts to break through the clouds with random acts of kindness from others as faith is restored in the human race. Hospitals and schools are experiencing budget cuts and layoffs as police are hiring in record numbers that only match numbers used to measure foreclosures in Stockton, but on my end, things are looking pretty good.

On top of everything, I got a temporary paper license to drive until my hearing date in August per my attorney and even found an old expired drivers license in my coffee table the other night so I have photo ID now.

I got a new book and some new music from D, who reads this blog.

I bought a new coffee grinder and some new really kickass underwear.

And my hair is growing back superfast.

To sum it up: Shit is finally comin' up Hughge. Yooge.

Have a safe weekend and trust me, take a cab. Handcuffs hurt.