Bryan D. Brown

Jennifer, our friend Nicole, and I spent last Thursday at Magic Mountain in celebration of Jennifer’s birthday. I think about 14 years has passed since I was last there - back when I enjoyed doing things that scared the shit out of me. Thankfully, my constitution on rollercoasters is still holds up, although there was one rollercoaster called X that really put me to the test.

So you might ask, “Why Magic Mountain?” Well, I think it’s because Jennifer’s having more trouble dealing with getting older than I am.

And then Saturday it was off to West Hollywood, or what my politically-correct father calls the “happy” part of Los Angeles, to get away for a day. Jennifer likes the clubs in that area, so that’s where her and I went to really celebrate her birthday. Say what you want about gay clubs, I never get a drink that fast from a male bartender at a straight club. On the other hand, male bartenders at straight clubs wear shirts - so it’s a mixed bag, uh… I mean give and take, no, no… I mean… nevermind.

Joking aside, it was pretty good time.

Two things that I have against the experience, though: a well Martini should never cost $12. And if you are going to charge $12 for a well Martini, then I should never - never, ever, ever - have to listen to that damned Kelly Clarkson “Since You’ve Been Gone” song. If I have to hear that song, then you should pay me for the drink.