Adult Content
I was sitting on the toilet yesterday, and felt a tickle on my ass. I jumped up and spun around, and the tickle jumped down into my boxer shorts, which where at about knee level. I danced around until a medium sized mosquito hawk flew up from my undergarment and landed on my towel. I cursed it, squished it, and flushed it.
We have ants that come visit my bathroom from time to time, so I have always worried that something like that will happen, but no amount of fearing the unlikely prepared me for the real deal. Bug-Ass go-time. With the combination of the running into the door and amphibious insects, I think I'm just going to avoid the bathroom from now on.
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Burst Into Flame
It's hot. Well, hot for a San Francisco: 91. Ok, it WAS 91, now it's cooler, but still too hot to sleep on flannel sheets. I should probably get some non-flannel sheets. And it's only April. We still have real summer, and then Indian summer to look forward to. I really should get some non-flannel sheets.
I walked to and from Kristin's house tonight. It was weird to see everyone out on the street. No on has AC here, so when it gets hot inside, it stays that way. Everyone was sitting in their lawn chairs on the sidewalk. It felt very community oriented, except I don't speak Spanish, so I couldn't really be too involved with the community.
On the way home at midnight the city was weird as well. It was super quiet. I could hear my own footsteps from time to time, and I like to think I have some pretty quiet footsteps. I accidentally sneak up on people all the time. It was just hot and quite for the whole 15 minute walk. It felt kind of movie-like. But then again, I might just watch too many movies, and it should have just felt life-like.
It's hot. Well, hot for a San Francisco: 91. Ok, it WAS 91, now it's cooler, but still too hot to sleep on flannel sheets. I should probably get some non-flannel sheets. And it's only April. We still have real summer, and then Indian summer to look forward to. I really should get some non-flannel sheets.
I walked to and from Kristin's house tonight. It was weird to see everyone out on the street. No on has AC here, so when it gets hot inside, it stays that way. Everyone was sitting in their lawn chairs on the sidewalk. It felt very community oriented, except I don't speak Spanish, so I couldn't really be too involved with the community.
On the way home at midnight the city was weird as well. It was super quiet. I could hear my own footsteps from time to time, and I like to think I have some pretty quiet footsteps. I accidentally sneak up on people all the time. It was just hot and quite for the whole 15 minute walk. It felt kind of movie-like. But then again, I might just watch too many movies, and it should have just felt life-like.
Sunday, April 25, 2004
Constants
I always run into the bathroom door at night. Always. I know that if Amos has used the bathroom, he closes the door. Even with this knowledge, I can't bring myself to either turn on the light so I can see, or feel around in the dark to see if the door is closed before walking through. So every night the same thing happens: I walk out of my dark room, into the dark hallway, thump myself into the closed door, jump back in surprise, open the door, do what I need to do, and then explicitly leave the door open on the way out. I'm only smart at the end.
I can't seem to learn to spell without the aid of spell check either. I guess some things are fundamentally unlearnable for me.
I always run into the bathroom door at night. Always. I know that if Amos has used the bathroom, he closes the door. Even with this knowledge, I can't bring myself to either turn on the light so I can see, or feel around in the dark to see if the door is closed before walking through. So every night the same thing happens: I walk out of my dark room, into the dark hallway, thump myself into the closed door, jump back in surprise, open the door, do what I need to do, and then explicitly leave the door open on the way out. I'm only smart at the end.
I can't seem to learn to spell without the aid of spell check either. I guess some things are fundamentally unlearnable for me.
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Phones
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Since I'm already nerding it up by posting on my blog, let's go full force by talking about my battle with Kristin's phones. Her house is split into 3 units: basement apartment, middle floor apartment, and the upstairs apartment where she lives. It used to be a regular house and so all the units share a single power, gas, and water meter. But everyone needs their own phone, so there are 3 phone boxes. However, there are roughly 1000 wires running in and around those 3 boxes. One of the jacks in the house quit working for no reason, so I set out to fix it. The odd thing about it is that it is a lone ranger kind of jack, which is not attached to the phone system of the rest of the house. The phone cable goes right out through the wall, over the house, and into the rat's nest. Why would they do this? It must have been another line at some point, but then why would it quit working all random style? And why are there several Ethernet cables strung about in the rats nest? It's like someone was trying to network the neighborhood. Who wired these things? Is there a map someplace? |
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Saturday, April 17, 2004
TiVo
For those of you that I don't talk to on a regular basis (I think there is maybe one person who fits that description), my TiVo interview went well (I hope). I answered all their questions to (what I think) was their satisfaction. I hope to hear something after they are done interviewing in 2-3 weeks.
As a side note, 2 out of my 4 interviewers had poppy seeds in their teeth. Luckily I checked my teeth in the mirror before going in, so I at least had one point over them dental hygienically. Although they got company barbeque hamburgers for lunch, and I ate at MacDonald's. So they get a point over me gastrointestinally. 1-1. Even.
For those of you that I don't talk to on a regular basis (I think there is maybe one person who fits that description), my TiVo interview went well (I hope). I answered all their questions to (what I think) was their satisfaction. I hope to hear something after they are done interviewing in 2-3 weeks.
As a side note, 2 out of my 4 interviewers had poppy seeds in their teeth. Luckily I checked my teeth in the mirror before going in, so I at least had one point over them dental hygienically. Although they got company barbeque hamburgers for lunch, and I ate at MacDonald's. So they get a point over me gastrointestinally. 1-1. Even.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
Cast of Characters
In the previous post I referred to many of my neighbors without too much explanation of who they are. So here is said explanation.
Gonzo and Bitch: These two are the couple that lives upstairs and across the fire escape from me. I’m not sure if Gonzo actually lives there, but he’s over quiet a bit. G and B have a mercurial relationship. It goes from singing duets to silly music, where each one has his or her own part worked out, to screaming at each other and shaking the building. I think Gonzo’s name is actually Gonzo, but I have no idea what Bitch’s real name is. In fact, just recently Gonzo, Bitch, and a new player, Jessica were fighting up stairs, and Jessica called Bitch, Bitch as well. So, on second thought, perhaps her name is Bitch.
Their fights are both violent and really, amazingly stupid. They each pick their arguing sentence and then yell it at the other person over and over. Neither changes the sentence for a good 5-10 minutes. After the allotted time has passed, then they pick a new sentence and yell that for the next 5-10 minutes, on at infinitum or until someone storms out.
Piranha Man: PM lives on my floor and across the fire escape. He is so named for one of his many TV comments. He once said, and I quote, “Piranha tank? I would not jump into a piranha tank. They would not eat … they would eat me.” I love how he goofed in the middle. (The recording was done once to see what gems I could get on tape. That was one of them.)
Anyhow, he goes on like that all the time. He says things like “The Mayflower? That’s ok.” Who knows what that means? And once he was on the phone and went on a cliché bender. “I’m just a simple boy from the farm.” “I’ll never go down that road again.” “I knew he was too good to be true.”
And so, in a nutshell, these are my neighbors. At least the weird ones. I have plenty of nice ones too, but they aren’t that much fun to write about.
In the previous post I referred to many of my neighbors without too much explanation of who they are. So here is said explanation.
Gonzo and Bitch: These two are the couple that lives upstairs and across the fire escape from me. I’m not sure if Gonzo actually lives there, but he’s over quiet a bit. G and B have a mercurial relationship. It goes from singing duets to silly music, where each one has his or her own part worked out, to screaming at each other and shaking the building. I think Gonzo’s name is actually Gonzo, but I have no idea what Bitch’s real name is. In fact, just recently Gonzo, Bitch, and a new player, Jessica were fighting up stairs, and Jessica called Bitch, Bitch as well. So, on second thought, perhaps her name is Bitch.
Their fights are both violent and really, amazingly stupid. They each pick their arguing sentence and then yell it at the other person over and over. Neither changes the sentence for a good 5-10 minutes. After the allotted time has passed, then they pick a new sentence and yell that for the next 5-10 minutes, on at infinitum or until someone storms out.
Piranha Man: PM lives on my floor and across the fire escape. He is so named for one of his many TV comments. He once said, and I quote, “Piranha tank? I would not jump into a piranha tank. They would not eat … they would eat me.” I love how he goofed in the middle. (The recording was done once to see what gems I could get on tape. That was one of them.)
Anyhow, he goes on like that all the time. He says things like “The Mayflower? That’s ok.” Who knows what that means? And once he was on the phone and went on a cliché bender. “I’m just a simple boy from the farm.” “I’ll never go down that road again.” “I knew he was too good to be true.”
And so, in a nutshell, these are my neighbors. At least the weird ones. I have plenty of nice ones too, but they aren’t that much fun to write about.
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Sing It Child!
I’m surprised at how unabashed my neighbors are when their windows are open. I guess your apartment feels like someplace safe, someplace where no one will hear you scream … out Sweet Home Alabama at the top of your lungs. I do this too; I play the guitar and sing. But I also sing on the way from my car to my apartment, and in the store, and when someone is talking to me. As far as I can tell, no one else in my building sings in public. They restrict themselves to singing at top volume in their apartments with their windows open.
It’s really not private. I have to wonder: Do they know I can hear them? Gonzo and Bitch were singing a duet today. Gonzo sounds like a long time smoker with a Mexican accent version of Special Ed from Crank Yankers, and Bitch just sounds shrill.
Piranha Man is always singing to himself. He’ll really break into song if he’s been drinking. (I’m kind of assuming about the drinking here, but he kind of slurs and mumbles. Gonzo, oddly enough, sings when he’s sober. He fights with Bitch when he/they are drunk. Again with the assuming and the slurring.)
To further distance myself from my neighbors, I also want to point out that I restrict my public outbursts to music. Gonzo and Bitch loudly and physically argue with the windows open. Piranha Man comments on whatever he happens to be watching on TV, talks on the phone, and has even been known to diddle himself with not only the window open, but with the shades partway up. I tell you, seeing that was a most unpleasant way to start my day. I leave my shades down 24/7 now.
Have I ever explained who these people are? If not, I shall do so in the next post.
I’m surprised at how unabashed my neighbors are when their windows are open. I guess your apartment feels like someplace safe, someplace where no one will hear you scream … out Sweet Home Alabama at the top of your lungs. I do this too; I play the guitar and sing. But I also sing on the way from my car to my apartment, and in the store, and when someone is talking to me. As far as I can tell, no one else in my building sings in public. They restrict themselves to singing at top volume in their apartments with their windows open.
It’s really not private. I have to wonder: Do they know I can hear them? Gonzo and Bitch were singing a duet today. Gonzo sounds like a long time smoker with a Mexican accent version of Special Ed from Crank Yankers, and Bitch just sounds shrill.
Piranha Man is always singing to himself. He’ll really break into song if he’s been drinking. (I’m kind of assuming about the drinking here, but he kind of slurs and mumbles. Gonzo, oddly enough, sings when he’s sober. He fights with Bitch when he/they are drunk. Again with the assuming and the slurring.)
To further distance myself from my neighbors, I also want to point out that I restrict my public outbursts to music. Gonzo and Bitch loudly and physically argue with the windows open. Piranha Man comments on whatever he happens to be watching on TV, talks on the phone, and has even been known to diddle himself with not only the window open, but with the shades partway up. I tell you, seeing that was a most unpleasant way to start my day. I leave my shades down 24/7 now.
Have I ever explained who these people are? If not, I shall do so in the next post.
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
Hire Me
Yikes. I have an interview tomorrow. I’m both excited and scared to death. The interview is with TiVo, which I gather is a fun place to work. And I do love my TiVo, so there is already some company loyalty. In addition, the job is a good one as far as growth opportunities are concerned. It would be nice to finally start a career.
The scared to death part of it comes from the having to not only talk to strangers, but having to get those strangers to like me enough that they want to pay me to come work for them. I don’t even like asking where things are in the store.
On the bright side, I really truly believe I can do the job well. So if I can just convince the fine people at TiVo of the same thing, I should be all set. Maybe I should bring them some cookies or something.
Yikes. I have an interview tomorrow. I’m both excited and scared to death. The interview is with TiVo, which I gather is a fun place to work. And I do love my TiVo, so there is already some company loyalty. In addition, the job is a good one as far as growth opportunities are concerned. It would be nice to finally start a career.
The scared to death part of it comes from the having to not only talk to strangers, but having to get those strangers to like me enough that they want to pay me to come work for them. I don’t even like asking where things are in the store.
On the bright side, I really truly believe I can do the job well. So if I can just convince the fine people at TiVo of the same thing, I should be all set. Maybe I should bring them some cookies or something.
Sunday, April 11, 2004
Hot Rod
My apartment building has a garage that everyone shares. There are two entrances, and it extends beyond the building, leaving one space directly behind the middle of the building which is big enough for a car, but which is hard to get if all the real spots are taken. As a result, the owners of the building use it to store stuff like a big, dead pickup and piles of trash. Well, today along with their pile of trash, they have parked their Ford Festiva. I hadn’t noticed up until today just how awesome their particular Festiva is. It has a spoiler. A SPOILER!!!
In my experience, most vehicles, even people-powered vehicles like bikes and skateboards, need spoilers more than a Festiva does. Festivas have little tiny wheels. They have little tiny engines. They are little tiny cars. They have trouble going 70mph.
A Festiva engine has 63 hp. To give you an idea of the scale, my underpowered, 4-cylinder Camry has 108hp, the Model T from 1932 had 65hp, and the Festiva has 63hp. What I’m getting at here is that the Festiva isn’t in much danger of its rear wheels coming off the ground in racing situations. Anyhow, here are some pictures of the ridiculous contraption.
Oh, and as a second bit of weirdness, the car is parked perpendicularly to the other cars in the garage. Maybe it’s parked thusly to best showcase its awesomeness.
My apartment building has a garage that everyone shares. There are two entrances, and it extends beyond the building, leaving one space directly behind the middle of the building which is big enough for a car, but which is hard to get if all the real spots are taken. As a result, the owners of the building use it to store stuff like a big, dead pickup and piles of trash. Well, today along with their pile of trash, they have parked their Ford Festiva. I hadn’t noticed up until today just how awesome their particular Festiva is. It has a spoiler. A SPOILER!!!
In my experience, most vehicles, even people-powered vehicles like bikes and skateboards, need spoilers more than a Festiva does. Festivas have little tiny wheels. They have little tiny engines. They are little tiny cars. They have trouble going 70mph.
A Festiva engine has 63 hp. To give you an idea of the scale, my underpowered, 4-cylinder Camry has 108hp, the Model T from 1932 had 65hp, and the Festiva has 63hp. What I’m getting at here is that the Festiva isn’t in much danger of its rear wheels coming off the ground in racing situations. Anyhow, here are some pictures of the ridiculous contraption.
Oh, and as a second bit of weirdness, the car is parked perpendicularly to the other cars in the garage. Maybe it’s parked thusly to best showcase its awesomeness.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
Hang Up and Ride
Lots of people don’t like it when drivers talk on their cell phones while driving. If it’s going to make you swerve, then I’m not a big fan either, but I do it, so I don’t really have any right to point fingers. However, there is another group of cell phone users, which I do feel I should point a finger at: bicyclists.
Twice tonight I had to be very mindful of people riding their bikes and talking on the phone. One was using his right hand to hold phone (which restricts his braking ability to the front wheel) and swerving around while trying to ride up a steep hill on Hill (kind of confusing, Hill Street being such a hilly street). Hill is not a wide street, but you can get two cars passing with ample room to spare. But it turns out that one guy on a bike, talking on the phone, takes up about as much space as a car and a half.
The second guy was using his left hand for the phone, but holding it to his right ear, which was making him wobbly. He was a little better than Guy #1 in that he wasn’t swerving. I was mostly worried that he was going to fall off and land under my tires.
The worst offender in this genre was about a month ago. A guy came zipping along, through a red light, talking on a phone, with NO hands on the handlebars. I give him a lifespan of about 10 or 15 more minutes.
I’m all for watching out for, and being respectful to, bicyclists. It’s important not to drive in their lane, and to watch for them when you make a turn. But it’s hard to keep feeling respectful and vigilant when they glare at you after you almost hit them as they are running a red light, through a blind intersection, going nearly 30Mph.
Lots of people don’t like it when drivers talk on their cell phones while driving. If it’s going to make you swerve, then I’m not a big fan either, but I do it, so I don’t really have any right to point fingers. However, there is another group of cell phone users, which I do feel I should point a finger at: bicyclists.
Twice tonight I had to be very mindful of people riding their bikes and talking on the phone. One was using his right hand to hold phone (which restricts his braking ability to the front wheel) and swerving around while trying to ride up a steep hill on Hill (kind of confusing, Hill Street being such a hilly street). Hill is not a wide street, but you can get two cars passing with ample room to spare. But it turns out that one guy on a bike, talking on the phone, takes up about as much space as a car and a half.
The second guy was using his left hand for the phone, but holding it to his right ear, which was making him wobbly. He was a little better than Guy #1 in that he wasn’t swerving. I was mostly worried that he was going to fall off and land under my tires.
The worst offender in this genre was about a month ago. A guy came zipping along, through a red light, talking on a phone, with NO hands on the handlebars. I give him a lifespan of about 10 or 15 more minutes.
I’m all for watching out for, and being respectful to, bicyclists. It’s important not to drive in their lane, and to watch for them when you make a turn. But it’s hard to keep feeling respectful and vigilant when they glare at you after you almost hit them as they are running a red light, through a blind intersection, going nearly 30Mph.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
Notivation
Aren’t people supposed to have some motivation? Where is mine? Was I born without it? Did I loose it in a tragic couch incident?
I can’t sleep, so I wake up late, which makes it harder to go to sleep, which makes me stay up later, which makes me wake up later, which makes my sleep time cyclical. Eventually I will wake up at midnight and go to bed at 4pm. I want to put a stop to all this sleeping/not sleeping nonsense, but I can’t even motivate myself to get out of bed when my alarm goes off.
When I finally pry myself out of bed, it’s noon, and I stumble over to the couch and stare at the TV. I’m don’t even have the motivation to actively watch at this point. I just stare for a while, and then take a shower. After the shower I can muster the strength to really watch the TV.
So one can imagine how hard it is to get me to apply for jobs, something that both takes effort and that I vastly dislike. Maybe I could sign up to be the focus of a reality show that makes people feel better about themselves. It could be called “Couch Potating with Mike.” I really don’t do anything all day. My biggest news of the day is that my next Safeway sandwich is free. Hot damn! I’ve paid my 7 sandwich dues, and now it’s time to reap my 8th-sandwhich-free reward.
Maybe I’ll look for a job now. Or, more likely, I’ll look at the free stuff listings, read some haikus, and then watch some more TV.
Aren’t people supposed to have some motivation? Where is mine? Was I born without it? Did I loose it in a tragic couch incident?
I can’t sleep, so I wake up late, which makes it harder to go to sleep, which makes me stay up later, which makes me wake up later, which makes my sleep time cyclical. Eventually I will wake up at midnight and go to bed at 4pm. I want to put a stop to all this sleeping/not sleeping nonsense, but I can’t even motivate myself to get out of bed when my alarm goes off.
When I finally pry myself out of bed, it’s noon, and I stumble over to the couch and stare at the TV. I’m don’t even have the motivation to actively watch at this point. I just stare for a while, and then take a shower. After the shower I can muster the strength to really watch the TV.
So one can imagine how hard it is to get me to apply for jobs, something that both takes effort and that I vastly dislike. Maybe I could sign up to be the focus of a reality show that makes people feel better about themselves. It could be called “Couch Potating with Mike.” I really don’t do anything all day. My biggest news of the day is that my next Safeway sandwich is free. Hot damn! I’ve paid my 7 sandwich dues, and now it’s time to reap my 8th-sandwhich-free reward.
Maybe I’ll look for a job now. Or, more likely, I’ll look at the free stuff listings, read some haikus, and then watch some more TV.
Long Time no Write
It’s been quite a while since I last wrote something. I guess I’ll just give some snippets of what I’ve been up to. And, since I’ve been reading the haiku forum on craigslist.org, I think the snippets will be in 575.
Had job interview
I thought it went pretty well
I get the job? No
Went downtown for my
Red light courtroom appearance
Turns out it’s next month
More cover letters
And more resumes go forth
But still no one calls
Money is better
With unemployment again
Damn Best Buy to hell
Still not good at sleep
I’m awake for the whole night
But sleep in the day
It’s been quite a while since I last wrote something. I guess I’ll just give some snippets of what I’ve been up to. And, since I’ve been reading the haiku forum on craigslist.org, I think the snippets will be in 575.
Had job interview
I thought it went pretty well
I get the job? No
Went downtown for my
Red light courtroom appearance
Turns out it’s next month
More cover letters
And more resumes go forth
But still no one calls
Money is better
With unemployment again
Damn Best Buy to hell
Still not good at sleep
I’m awake for the whole night
But sleep in the day
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