Adventures are really all about the little things that add up to the big picture.

Let's start with a fourteen-block urban hike. An amazing meal of seasoned chicken, avocados, yellow peppers, and cheese (of course), prepared by Chef BFF. I rationalize with the cat while she puts on earrings that have traveled many miles.

We'll meet Dan and Jason at the Bryant Lake Bowl. I like your glasses. I slam a Newcastle during a conversation that is only awkward to me, myself, and I (well, and one other person). The faucet is fucked up in the men's room, but not the women's (thanks, vagina, for allowing me to work the faucets at the BLB). Holy crap I'm about to see Low for the first time in years. Jittery.

First Class hand stamps. Hipsters. Couples. Hipster couples. "Do you see..." I begin to ask. "Don't say his name out loud," BFF hisses at me. Recognizing someone from Duluth has a calming effect. Dosh. Let's move. It's not so warm over here. Stupid-ass silver gladiator shoes are following us around. BFF frantically throws herself on to me, and I know it can only mean one thing. OH MY GOD THERE'S AL SPARHAWK. OH MY GOD. THERE IS AL SPARHAWK. AL SPARHAWK IS RIGHT THERE. And catches me staring at him four times. Al Sparhawk. Right there. I clearly have not grown up at all in the last three years.

Low. "Murderer" is my fucking favorite song. New bass player -- nice smile, cute guy, but I don't like how he fits in. A douchebag screams to hear his own voice. I miss Livingston a little. "Sandinista." Cameras everywhere. Al wants to know if anyone has a bright idea on how to save the world. Moronic answers from morons. "Violent Past." I like the upright bass. Holy crap, are they playing "Lordy?" Oh my god they are. "Last Snowstorm of the Year." Epic. Let's get our asses outside.

Torrential downpour. Running in the rain. Have to make it back before P.O.S. "You're doing funny things with your arms," she yells. "I'm running!" I respond. Shady characters ask to draw our pictures. Fuck this excursion, pleased to return to the venue.

Obama airhead. Do you understand your own message? Idiot. We are annoyed, offended, muddled.

P.O.S. Paper Tiger. Heavy beats. Awesome. Awesome. Awesome. Too tired to put up with much more. Have to leave. Rain's let up. We change the world on the way to the car.

$1.07? Let's get some fucking food. Hold up. Torrential downpour again. Can't see. Buttfuck territory. It stuck to the window! Scream through the drive-thru. Gotta time that shit just right. Terrifying trip between the cities. Aeroplaning? Hydroplaning.

Did I miss anything?