Entry tags:
The Chrismukkah Delimukkah
All in all, Seth is happy with the decision.
While the idea of one gigantic super winter holiday, or of a Thanksgivmukkah, had been an appealing one, it would have either meant starting the whole thing on Thanksgiving and going eight days, or one whole month of holiday goodness.
Chrismukkah is a resilient holiday, Seth knows, but the idea of changing it just once when Hanukkah and Thanksgiving won't coincide again for another 70,000 years just seems like poor planning. So Thanksgiving had gone on as scheduled, and had been full of a surprising amount of deliciousness, considering it's just him and Summer now. And with the holiday season officially underway, Seth is in full Chrismukkah planning mode. And that means getting a tree and decorating.
Tis the season, finally. Weird other-dimensional city or not. Chrismukkah is too strong to be deterred by dimensional displacement.
He's on the couch sketching something for a class project when he thinks of it, and his figure drawing has suddenly started morphing into a giant anthropomorphic Christmas tree as his mind wanders.
"Summer," he calls, not bothering to look back and see where she might be in the apartment, "I think we need a tree."
While the idea of one gigantic super winter holiday, or of a Thanksgivmukkah, had been an appealing one, it would have either meant starting the whole thing on Thanksgiving and going eight days, or one whole month of holiday goodness.
Chrismukkah is a resilient holiday, Seth knows, but the idea of changing it just once when Hanukkah and Thanksgiving won't coincide again for another 70,000 years just seems like poor planning. So Thanksgiving had gone on as scheduled, and had been full of a surprising amount of deliciousness, considering it's just him and Summer now. And with the holiday season officially underway, Seth is in full Chrismukkah planning mode. And that means getting a tree and decorating.
Tis the season, finally. Weird other-dimensional city or not. Chrismukkah is too strong to be deterred by dimensional displacement.
He's on the couch sketching something for a class project when he thinks of it, and his figure drawing has suddenly started morphing into a giant anthropomorphic Christmas tree as his mind wanders.
"Summer," he calls, not bothering to look back and see where she might be in the apartment, "I think we need a tree."
Entry tags:
The Summer Breeze II
The really cool thing about having a job is the money that comes with it.
Okay, so maybe it's just a part time job at the comic book store, and with school starting up soon, he'll be working even fewer hours and making even less money soon, but it's still a job. And anything to supplement the little money that they get from their invisible benefactors is a good thing.
In fact, his many hours among the volumes of X-Men, Superman and others are why he's able to do what he's got planned today. It's taken him over a month to get everything together— and he's been eating packs of ramen as a result of it— but it's finally done. First had come the actual boat itself, then the paint for said boat, since all he could afford was something used and in dire need of sanding and assorted other repairs. And eventually he'd scrounged together the money for a mast, boom and sail, and before he knew it the Summer Breeze II was ready for its maiden voyage.
Though all along, Seth knew that it wasn't one he was going to take by himself.
He'd told Summer to meet him at the beach because he had something awesome to show her— he'd been purposely vague, despite the fact that he was pretty sure she hated it when he did that— and is waiting on the boardwalk for her to show. The small sailboat is just out of view for the moment, ready for the grand reveal.
Hopefully, Summer won't think it's weird that he's named another boat after her.
But they never did get that trip to Tahiti, did they?
Okay, so maybe it's just a part time job at the comic book store, and with school starting up soon, he'll be working even fewer hours and making even less money soon, but it's still a job. And anything to supplement the little money that they get from their invisible benefactors is a good thing.
In fact, his many hours among the volumes of X-Men, Superman and others are why he's able to do what he's got planned today. It's taken him over a month to get everything together— and he's been eating packs of ramen as a result of it— but it's finally done. First had come the actual boat itself, then the paint for said boat, since all he could afford was something used and in dire need of sanding and assorted other repairs. And eventually he'd scrounged together the money for a mast, boom and sail, and before he knew it the Summer Breeze II was ready for its maiden voyage.
Though all along, Seth knew that it wasn't one he was going to take by himself.
He'd told Summer to meet him at the beach because he had something awesome to show her— he'd been purposely vague, despite the fact that he was pretty sure she hated it when he did that— and is waiting on the boardwalk for her to show. The small sailboat is just out of view for the moment, ready for the grand reveal.
Hopefully, Summer won't think it's weird that he's named another boat after her.
But they never did get that trip to Tahiti, did they?
Entry tags:
The Bro-Out
This is exactly what the two of them need.
At least, Seth is convinced that it's exactly what the two of them need. A night of movies and gaming and just general awesomness to take their minds off of the fact that they're stuck in what's essentially one giant BioDome sans-Pauly Shore. Of course, any and all games played aren't of the video variety, since Seth is currently too broke to afford any kind of system— he still can't believe they're up to the Playstation THREE— but board and card games are almost as good. Almost.
They've started off the evening in the sci-fi genre, though Seth is convinced that he'll eventually lure Stiles over to the side of the Yakuza film. He's got Kids Return, which is a pretty decent starting point for someone who might not be as familiar. It's gonna be awesome.
"You know, it's still weird that the drinking age here is eighteen," Seth muses, walking back from the kitchen with drinks. He's not sure if it's cool that he's got two beers, so he's got a can of soda too, just in case. "I mean, the entirety of my teenage life, I look forward to twenty-one, and just like that, a life milestone is completely taken away. I feel robbed. Cheated. All I've got now is my car insurance premiums dropping at twenty-five, and I don't even own a car."
At least, Seth is convinced that it's exactly what the two of them need. A night of movies and gaming and just general awesomness to take their minds off of the fact that they're stuck in what's essentially one giant BioDome sans-Pauly Shore. Of course, any and all games played aren't of the video variety, since Seth is currently too broke to afford any kind of system— he still can't believe they're up to the Playstation THREE— but board and card games are almost as good. Almost.
They've started off the evening in the sci-fi genre, though Seth is convinced that he'll eventually lure Stiles over to the side of the Yakuza film. He's got Kids Return, which is a pretty decent starting point for someone who might not be as familiar. It's gonna be awesome.
"You know, it's still weird that the drinking age here is eighteen," Seth muses, walking back from the kitchen with drinks. He's not sure if it's cool that he's got two beers, so he's got a can of soda too, just in case. "I mean, the entirety of my teenage life, I look forward to twenty-one, and just like that, a life milestone is completely taken away. I feel robbed. Cheated. All I've got now is my car insurance premiums dropping at twenty-five, and I don't even own a car."
Entry tags:
The Importance of Being Summer
As far as alternate dimensions go, Darrow isn't half bad.
At least, Seth is convinced that things could be a lot worse. Sure, it's cold and he's kind of alone and his picture on his Darrow ID is pretty embarrassing, but there are worse dimensions to end up in. Like the one in The Matrix. Okay, so it's not actually an alternate dimension, but the fact that Seth could be on the run from rogue computer programs instead of walking down an unfamiliar road with his hands stuffed into the pockets of a coat he'd bought first thing earlier this week is not lost on him.
Though, maybe he'd know kung fu there. That would have been cool.
He's never going to learn kung fu at this rate.
Seth has spent most of the day wandering, mostly in the hopes of finding a decent video store, but before long, he finds himself near the beach. In a lot of ways, it's kind of disappointing, but at least in this weather, there aren't any meatheads on the strand or the boardwalk. Even if Seth is freezing. Still, it's not home, and with each day that goes by, he's reminded of how much he misses Newport.
Well, not so much Newport as the people in Newport. And in Rhode Island.
Actually, this really sucks.
Also, Seth really wishes he had a giant furry hat, right about now, because the sun is going down and his ears are freezing.
At least, Seth is convinced that things could be a lot worse. Sure, it's cold and he's kind of alone and his picture on his Darrow ID is pretty embarrassing, but there are worse dimensions to end up in. Like the one in The Matrix. Okay, so it's not actually an alternate dimension, but the fact that Seth could be on the run from rogue computer programs instead of walking down an unfamiliar road with his hands stuffed into the pockets of a coat he'd bought first thing earlier this week is not lost on him.
Though, maybe he'd know kung fu there. That would have been cool.
He's never going to learn kung fu at this rate.
Seth has spent most of the day wandering, mostly in the hopes of finding a decent video store, but before long, he finds himself near the beach. In a lot of ways, it's kind of disappointing, but at least in this weather, there aren't any meatheads on the strand or the boardwalk. Even if Seth is freezing. Still, it's not home, and with each day that goes by, he's reminded of how much he misses Newport.
Well, not so much Newport as the people in Newport. And in Rhode Island.
Actually, this really sucks.
Also, Seth really wishes he had a giant furry hat, right about now, because the sun is going down and his ears are freezing.
Entry tags:
The Inter-dimensional Travelers
There was a time, a few years ago, when Seth Cohen never would have imagined himself in the situation that he's currently found himself in.
Okay, so there was always a chance he'd somehow make it down to Mexico. Possibly to actually get chic-lets. Possibly due to some kind of roadmap mishap or a Yahoo maps snafu. But unsurprisingly, tagging along with his best friend to make sure he didn't beat the snot out of a guy named Volchok and somehow being cornered by a group of rowdy Marines and drunkenly forced to get a tattoo in the process had never made it into the list of Mexico vacation possibilities.
Not that he's not having a great time with his still sore arm and massive hangover. It was like a regular barrel of monkeys there on the floor of his and Ryan's seedy Enseniada motel room.
Seth scratches at the bandage on his arm and winces. Summer's going to kill him when she sees it, whether or not he was drunk and whether or not he got it under the threat of a butt-kicking by a group of America's finest. Of course, Summer's disapproval will likely come with the threat of butt-kicking by Summer, and honestly, Seth's not entirely sure which is scarier.
That is, if he can ever get Summer on the phone. She's been ducking his calls ever since she unceremoniously left Newport for Brown and he's still not sure why. And if there's anyone he needs to talk to about Ryan and Volchok and what's been going on, it's her. Not that he thinks she'll immediately know exactly what to do, but they can brainstorm. The combined Seth and Summer braintrust could maybe keep Ryan from doing something he might regret and ending up in prison. Maybe Ryan's proclivity towards punching people has been one of his more charming attributes up until now, but something tells him that the Mexican police won't be as swayed by his natural magnetism as Seth.
Sprawled out on a chair, Seth groans and reaches next to him for the phone, dialing the motel's front desk on the almost hilariously out of date rotary dial.
Really, it's Mexico, not 1976.
But there's no dial tone, no voice on the other end. And upon further inspection through squinty eyes as sensitive to the light as a newborn babe's, he realizes that he's no longer in his and Ryan's seedy motel room. Under normal circumstances, this might be a good thing. Except for the fact that Seth doesn't remember actually going anywhere.
Is this what going crazy feels like?
Seth frowns, looking around the unfamiliar room.
"Ryan?" he tries, tone unsure, "Amigo? Donde estas?"
Okay, so there was always a chance he'd somehow make it down to Mexico. Possibly to actually get chic-lets. Possibly due to some kind of roadmap mishap or a Yahoo maps snafu. But unsurprisingly, tagging along with his best friend to make sure he didn't beat the snot out of a guy named Volchok and somehow being cornered by a group of rowdy Marines and drunkenly forced to get a tattoo in the process had never made it into the list of Mexico vacation possibilities.
Not that he's not having a great time with his still sore arm and massive hangover. It was like a regular barrel of monkeys there on the floor of his and Ryan's seedy Enseniada motel room.
Seth scratches at the bandage on his arm and winces. Summer's going to kill him when she sees it, whether or not he was drunk and whether or not he got it under the threat of a butt-kicking by a group of America's finest. Of course, Summer's disapproval will likely come with the threat of butt-kicking by Summer, and honestly, Seth's not entirely sure which is scarier.
That is, if he can ever get Summer on the phone. She's been ducking his calls ever since she unceremoniously left Newport for Brown and he's still not sure why. And if there's anyone he needs to talk to about Ryan and Volchok and what's been going on, it's her. Not that he thinks she'll immediately know exactly what to do, but they can brainstorm. The combined Seth and Summer braintrust could maybe keep Ryan from doing something he might regret and ending up in prison. Maybe Ryan's proclivity towards punching people has been one of his more charming attributes up until now, but something tells him that the Mexican police won't be as swayed by his natural magnetism as Seth.
Sprawled out on a chair, Seth groans and reaches next to him for the phone, dialing the motel's front desk on the almost hilariously out of date rotary dial.
Really, it's Mexico, not 1976.
But there's no dial tone, no voice on the other end. And upon further inspection through squinty eyes as sensitive to the light as a newborn babe's, he realizes that he's no longer in his and Ryan's seedy motel room. Under normal circumstances, this might be a good thing. Except for the fact that Seth doesn't remember actually going anywhere.
Is this what going crazy feels like?
Seth frowns, looking around the unfamiliar room.
"Ryan?" he tries, tone unsure, "Amigo? Donde estas?"