Annie, Are You Okay?

Nearly thirty-hours of work later, the Here to There bicycle taxi service of Huntington Beach, California is done, never to haunt the hour of 6 a.m. again. One Thanksgiving dinner down and three to go, even if Nate fucked up the turkey and served ham instead.

All apologies to the pilgrims.

The in-betweenus:

Twelve-Year-Old Boy Hot Line

Those twelve-year-old boys have got it pretty damn easy: chasing bullfrogs down at the creek, stealing apple pies from neighborhood windowsills and playing tickle-fight until the wee hours of the morning with Michael Jackson. Sweet! But seriously, 12-year-old boys get this week's Hot Line because with Jacko back in town, every parent in Santa Barbara will lock their Billys and Tylers up tight. Twenty-four-hour curfew ain't fun. But to the twelve-year-old girls of Santa Barbara: Enjoy the baseball diamond. This weekend belongs to you.

Drink of the Week: Hi-C Screwdriver

• 3 oz. vodka
• Hi-C
• Pour vodka into a cocktail glass and fill it with Hi-C. Make like Michael Jackson and taint something childlike and innocent with the vices of the adult world.

"Honest, Your Honor!"

Michael Jackson's probable explanations for lurking around the Boy Scout Jamboree:

• "I was looking for my nose."
• "They kicked me off the Little League field."
• "I teach the Boy Scouts a knot-tying class."
• "I was ... umm... well, see... umm... hey! Remember 'Thriller'?"
• "Jamboree? Oh, I thought they said 'tambourine!'"
• "I was returning all these old Boy Scout uniforms I had sitting in my basement."
• "I was burying the Elephant Man's bones."
• "I wanted to go where I didn't have the highest voice."
• "Well, I was moonwalking and I just ended up here. Hey! Remember 'Thriller'?