Go Outlook
Here I was planning to spend a non-social* night in front of my T.V., whenI called up my friend and wished her a happy birthday at the prompting of Outlook. Now I have an invitation to hang out with her, her brother, and her boyfriend at a bar someplace later tonight.
And that, my friends, is the magic of the calendar function.
*DRTING vocab word. (Awesome. I've just realized that the acronym for my blog is Dr. Ting.
"I need to see my Doctor. Tang anyone?"
"What?"
"Oh sorry, I said doctor and Tang, not Doctor Ting."
"No trouble, it happens on the time.")
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Wahuh?
I just watched a lady pull up in front of SF General Hospital and parallel park her forest green Mitsubishi Montero. She got out of the car, got her dog out of the back seat, walked up three cars, and got into a black Montero, in which she promptly drove away.
I wonder if she has 2 just to mess with her neighbors:
"Don't they have a green Montero too?"
"I've never seen two Monteros parked outside. And why would they have 2 colors of the same car but never bring them both home at the same time?
"I guess you're right. I must be losing my mind."
I just watched a lady pull up in front of SF General Hospital and parallel park her forest green Mitsubishi Montero. She got out of the car, got her dog out of the back seat, walked up three cars, and got into a black Montero, in which she promptly drove away.
I wonder if she has 2 just to mess with her neighbors:
"Don't they have a green Montero too?"
"I've never seen two Monteros parked outside. And why would they have 2 colors of the same car but never bring them both home at the same time?
"I guess you're right. I must be losing my mind."
Gripe
I loaded my scooter into my van last night, and this morning I drove up to Corte Madera to take my motorcycle skills test. I got to the DMV a half hour before it opened, unloaded my scooter, got in line, and waited for the doors to open. When they did I walked up to a counter and announced that I would like someone to watch me ride in a little circle and pronounce me motorcycle safe. They asked if I had an appointment and I allowed as to how I did not. They told me to wait at another desk to make one.
Apparently people who have jobs and are not psychic are not allowed to get the motorcycle endorsement in a timely fashion. All the Saturday appointments for all the DMVs in my area are booked up next month, and the earliest morning weekday appointments are at 9am, requiring me to take time off work. My other option was to take a motorcycle safety course, thereby relieving myself of $200, a Thursday night, and a whole weekend, but also thereby avoiding the DMV. However, it turns out you have to camp out for a spot in one of those things. All the classes for the next month and a half are full, and the ones that aren't full haven't started registration yet. It looks like I'll have to take a half day eventually for the privilege of riding at night and/or with a lady/passenger.
The DMV hassle was followed by a whole day of work, which is neither here nor there, except that my scooter kept asking politely for me to ride it someplace. Turns out that I would much rather scoot than work, but the scooter will wait and the job will not.
My Friday still held hope though, for my plan was to pack up my scooter, drive home, and meet my roommate and his friends at Molly Magee's in Mountain View at 9pm, then see a 10:30pm showing of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I tried to wait as long as I could to avoid sitting around at my roommate's job for an hour while he "finished up." But being compulsively on time (or early) I could wait no longer, and at 7:45pm I called to see if he wanted to get some food before going to the bar. He said, "Oh, we're meeting at an Indian place here at 8:30pm if you can make it in time."
I'm never sure when I'm being purposefully not invited to things, but in this case it struck me that I had stumbled into secret dinner plans and was only being offered a spot at the table because I had found them out. None the less, I said I would get gas (as my roommate knew I would have to do, I was driving his car down) and call when I got close. I called at 8:35pm which was, as it turns out, right as they had been seated at a table for 4. I, being the 5th person of the group, astutely caught hint number 2, and ate a container of fruit salad alone in the parking lot of Safeway, then had an Oreo cookie shake for desert. Because the Indian food thing happened, the bar thing didn't, and I went to the movie theater to read my book in the car and wait for the rest of the group to show up.
On the bright side I liked the movie. On the dark side, tonight had to be the most accidentally non-social night ever.*
*It must be said that I've spend many an anti-social** Friday night in my apartment watching TV. I've also spent non-social*** nights in my apartment watching TV. However, hoping for dinner, planning on hanging out for an hour in a bar, and then going to a movie should have netted me more than my accumulated 10 minutes of face-to-face social interaction tonight. Hence the title of accidentally non-social: I had made an effort and made plans.
**Anti-social - Staying at home when there are people to hang out with.
***Non-social - Staying at home when there are no people to hang out with.
I loaded my scooter into my van last night, and this morning I drove up to Corte Madera to take my motorcycle skills test. I got to the DMV a half hour before it opened, unloaded my scooter, got in line, and waited for the doors to open. When they did I walked up to a counter and announced that I would like someone to watch me ride in a little circle and pronounce me motorcycle safe. They asked if I had an appointment and I allowed as to how I did not. They told me to wait at another desk to make one.
Apparently people who have jobs and are not psychic are not allowed to get the motorcycle endorsement in a timely fashion. All the Saturday appointments for all the DMVs in my area are booked up next month, and the earliest morning weekday appointments are at 9am, requiring me to take time off work. My other option was to take a motorcycle safety course, thereby relieving myself of $200, a Thursday night, and a whole weekend, but also thereby avoiding the DMV. However, it turns out you have to camp out for a spot in one of those things. All the classes for the next month and a half are full, and the ones that aren't full haven't started registration yet. It looks like I'll have to take a half day eventually for the privilege of riding at night and/or with a lady/passenger.
The DMV hassle was followed by a whole day of work, which is neither here nor there, except that my scooter kept asking politely for me to ride it someplace. Turns out that I would much rather scoot than work, but the scooter will wait and the job will not.
My Friday still held hope though, for my plan was to pack up my scooter, drive home, and meet my roommate and his friends at Molly Magee's in Mountain View at 9pm, then see a 10:30pm showing of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I tried to wait as long as I could to avoid sitting around at my roommate's job for an hour while he "finished up." But being compulsively on time (or early) I could wait no longer, and at 7:45pm I called to see if he wanted to get some food before going to the bar. He said, "Oh, we're meeting at an Indian place here at 8:30pm if you can make it in time."
I'm never sure when I'm being purposefully not invited to things, but in this case it struck me that I had stumbled into secret dinner plans and was only being offered a spot at the table because I had found them out. None the less, I said I would get gas (as my roommate knew I would have to do, I was driving his car down) and call when I got close. I called at 8:35pm which was, as it turns out, right as they had been seated at a table for 4. I, being the 5th person of the group, astutely caught hint number 2, and ate a container of fruit salad alone in the parking lot of Safeway, then had an Oreo cookie shake for desert. Because the Indian food thing happened, the bar thing didn't, and I went to the movie theater to read my book in the car and wait for the rest of the group to show up.
On the bright side I liked the movie. On the dark side, tonight had to be the most accidentally non-social night ever.*
*It must be said that I've spend many an anti-social** Friday night in my apartment watching TV. I've also spent non-social*** nights in my apartment watching TV. However, hoping for dinner, planning on hanging out for an hour in a bar, and then going to a movie should have netted me more than my accumulated 10 minutes of face-to-face social interaction tonight. Hence the title of accidentally non-social: I had made an effort and made plans.
**Anti-social - Staying at home when there are people to hang out with.
***Non-social - Staying at home when there are no people to hang out with.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Try, Try Again
With the lines of the San Francisco DMV confronting me, I've decided to try my luck in Corte Madera. I've loaded my scooter into my mattress van, and I hope to unload it in Marin, take my test, reload it, go to work, unload it, work, reload it, drive home, and unload it. Alternatively, I might unload it at the DMV, take my test, and then come back for it on Saturday. Then I'll take a loooong scoot home via the back roads of the North Bay.
Or, worst case scenario, I'll have to move to Marin because I won't be able to get my scooter back to San Francisco by myself.
With the lines of the San Francisco DMV confronting me, I've decided to try my luck in Corte Madera. I've loaded my scooter into my mattress van, and I hope to unload it in Marin, take my test, reload it, go to work, unload it, work, reload it, drive home, and unload it. Alternatively, I might unload it at the DMV, take my test, and then come back for it on Saturday. Then I'll take a loooong scoot home via the back roads of the North Bay.
Or, worst case scenario, I'll have to move to Marin because I won't be able to get my scooter back to San Francisco by myself.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
P.S. (Pee Seat)
I tried to go get my scooter license today, and locked up my apartment shortly after 7:30am in hopes of arriving at the DMV before a huge line formed. Unfortunately, after I took the cover off my scooter I was confronted with a small puddle of very yellow pee on my seat. I was forced to leave a little late due to a clean up effort involving several napkins and liberal squirts of hand sanitizer.
What I'm hoping is that some small animal crawled up under the cover and slept warm and comfortable on my scooter seat, peed, and left. However, after I got back from the DMV* I discovered that there was pee on the outside of the cover as well. I'm hoping with all my might that one of my neighbors didn't pee on it. I'm also hoping that the dog torturers in 204 don't let their dogs pee on the vehicles in the garage, though nobody would notice even the slightest tic of reaction on my face if I caught them at it. I have less than zero respect for them. They actually suck cool points away from anyone who has any association with them. I'm glad I'm moving soon so I don't get sucked into their black hole of exuberant idiocy and inconsiderateness. (BHOEIAI)
As you may have noticed, I don't like the people in 204, nor do I like pee on my personal possessions. And I only jump to the conclusion that they may be involved because I know they let their dogs poop in the garage. They've stopped doing so recently, but next time I see a little dog present sitting around in there I'm going to get some gloves out of my van and put the poops on her windshield wipers.
*When I got to the DMV at 7:58am the line outside resembled a line for a rock concert. I guess I'm going to have to camp out to get a good spot.
I tried to go get my scooter license today, and locked up my apartment shortly after 7:30am in hopes of arriving at the DMV before a huge line formed. Unfortunately, after I took the cover off my scooter I was confronted with a small puddle of very yellow pee on my seat. I was forced to leave a little late due to a clean up effort involving several napkins and liberal squirts of hand sanitizer.
What I'm hoping is that some small animal crawled up under the cover and slept warm and comfortable on my scooter seat, peed, and left. However, after I got back from the DMV* I discovered that there was pee on the outside of the cover as well. I'm hoping with all my might that one of my neighbors didn't pee on it. I'm also hoping that the dog torturers in 204 don't let their dogs pee on the vehicles in the garage, though nobody would notice even the slightest tic of reaction on my face if I caught them at it. I have less than zero respect for them. They actually suck cool points away from anyone who has any association with them. I'm glad I'm moving soon so I don't get sucked into their black hole of exuberant idiocy and inconsiderateness. (BHOEIAI)
As you may have noticed, I don't like the people in 204, nor do I like pee on my personal possessions. And I only jump to the conclusion that they may be involved because I know they let their dogs poop in the garage. They've stopped doing so recently, but next time I see a little dog present sitting around in there I'm going to get some gloves out of my van and put the poops on her windshield wipers.
*When I got to the DMV at 7:58am the line outside resembled a line for a rock concert. I guess I'm going to have to camp out to get a good spot.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Books, Badguys, and BISI
First off, I've just finished a book on CD that I feel took great strength of character to get through. It was ostensibly a thriller about a serial killer, his lawyer, and a woman the lawyer meets whose sister may or may not have been taken by the killer.
In the book's defense, it was a little bit about those things, but it was mostly about the enduring strength of love and the power of family. There were many moments where the level of schlock made me shout "oh dear god I have to switch to Forum." The author wrote of children with bright eyes shining so brightly Cate's* heart felt like it would burst with love, and of Cate's river-stone eyes that stirred something deep within John's chest like a nervous butterfly with wings of velvet and blechablugerflug...
I can't even make it up as bad as that lady can write. Even her action scenes were lifted from b movie scripts. At the end, John, one of the main characters, is talking to the guy who turns out to be the head psycho. The psycho is saying that his psycho protégé never had the patience to torture somebody satisfactorily, and John takes a swing at the guy saying, "patience this!"
If you get hired to record a book on tape, I wonder if you get to read the book first. I'd have trouble getting that line out in a studio environment without wasting many a take. (This is not to say that I'm picky about the books on CD I check out. Next up in my front seat is a book about the history of coal.)
Anyhow, finishing that book was the last bright point of my day. The first bright point was discovering that the cause of the traffic on my way to work was 2 police motorcycles and a police car surrounding a black bmw which had run into the embankment on the right side of 101N. The police had the driver of the car handcuffed and seated on his mangled hood.
Normally, if everyone seems okay in an accident, I'm angry with them for holding up traffic. But this guy got what was coming to him. 100s of people drove by and got to see him sitting, handcuffed, on his freshly wrecked car … not wearing any pants. Yep, he was pantless. He was, however, wearing shoes.
And finally here, as was requested, is my SYPBISI picture:
*Not that Cate.
First off, I've just finished a book on CD that I feel took great strength of character to get through. It was ostensibly a thriller about a serial killer, his lawyer, and a woman the lawyer meets whose sister may or may not have been taken by the killer.
In the book's defense, it was a little bit about those things, but it was mostly about the enduring strength of love and the power of family. There were many moments where the level of schlock made me shout "oh dear god I have to switch to Forum." The author wrote of children with bright eyes shining so brightly Cate's* heart felt like it would burst with love, and of Cate's river-stone eyes that stirred something deep within John's chest like a nervous butterfly with wings of velvet and blechablugerflug...
I can't even make it up as bad as that lady can write. Even her action scenes were lifted from b movie scripts. At the end, John, one of the main characters, is talking to the guy who turns out to be the head psycho. The psycho is saying that his psycho protégé never had the patience to torture somebody satisfactorily, and John takes a swing at the guy saying, "patience this!"
If you get hired to record a book on tape, I wonder if you get to read the book first. I'd have trouble getting that line out in a studio environment without wasting many a take. (This is not to say that I'm picky about the books on CD I check out. Next up in my front seat is a book about the history of coal.)
Anyhow, finishing that book was the last bright point of my day. The first bright point was discovering that the cause of the traffic on my way to work was 2 police motorcycles and a police car surrounding a black bmw which had run into the embankment on the right side of 101N. The police had the driver of the car handcuffed and seated on his mangled hood.
Normally, if everyone seems okay in an accident, I'm angry with them for holding up traffic. But this guy got what was coming to him. 100s of people drove by and got to see him sitting, handcuffed, on his freshly wrecked car … not wearing any pants. Yep, he was pantless. He was, however, wearing shoes.
And finally here, as was requested, is my SYPBISI picture:
*Not that Cate.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Personals
On April 16th somebody in Sacramento actually went to Google and looked up SYPBISI, found my SYPBISI page, and went to it. I didn't get an email, but I'm glad somebody out there has the wherewithal to Google text included in pictures for the express purpose of looking up somebody's identity.
Special thanks to Google, ping.exe, eXTReMe Tracking, and ip2location.com for making this post possible.
Update: Crap. I've just discovered that the person in question is not a girl at all, but Anthony.
On April 16th somebody in Sacramento actually went to Google and looked up SYPBISI, found my SYPBISI page, and went to it. I didn't get an email, but I'm glad somebody out there has the wherewithal to Google text included in pictures for the express purpose of looking up somebody's identity.
Special thanks to Google, ping.exe, eXTReMe Tracking, and ip2location.com for making this post possible.
Update: Crap. I've just discovered that the person in question is not a girl at all, but Anthony.
Backlog
Today I learned that singing in the shower is fine, but not when washing my face. Irish Spring tastes terrible.
Pub Quiz Update - I got to pub quiz about an hour late and so limited my historically limited help to the last 3 rounds. Even so, it was an exciting finish. Here is the most confusing way I can think of to explain how it ended up:
We came into the last round in a 3 way tie for first after just rebounding from second place. We answered the last round's questions to the best of our ability and waited for the scores to be tallied. After the standings were out, we had dropped into a 2 way tie for 2nd place, "First Place" having taken over the top spot. We sent my roommate up for the quiz-off, tie-breaker round, and he blew the other team away with his answer of 300. The correct answer was 400, and the other team guessed 6. Dumbies. (The question was something about the number of episodes of some show filmed at some location over a span of something along the lines of 20 years.) And so it was, we, the Leprecant's, took 2nd place and a $20 voucher for the Napper Tandy.
On Friday a storm was abrewin' in the North Bay. While driving across the parking lot to load up a bed frame I looked out the window to see a cardboard box keeping pace with me. It looked like it on little wheels, or perhaps being carried by the world's fastest ants.
I'm having an excellent Sunday, full to the brim with getting nothing done. I woke up at 9am (9am! Which means I had both 9.5 hours of sleep and a completely uneventful Saturday night.), watched some Scrubs, ate half a frozen chocolate bar, watched more scrubs, took a shower, ate some Top Ramen, and wrote this. Bliss I tell you. Boring to read about, but bliss none the less.
I didn't title this "don't read this, it's not good" for nothing.
Today I learned that singing in the shower is fine, but not when washing my face. Irish Spring tastes terrible.
Pub Quiz Update - I got to pub quiz about an hour late and so limited my historically limited help to the last 3 rounds. Even so, it was an exciting finish. Here is the most confusing way I can think of to explain how it ended up:
We came into the last round in a 3 way tie for first after just rebounding from second place. We answered the last round's questions to the best of our ability and waited for the scores to be tallied. After the standings were out, we had dropped into a 2 way tie for 2nd place, "First Place" having taken over the top spot. We sent my roommate up for the quiz-off, tie-breaker round, and he blew the other team away with his answer of 300. The correct answer was 400, and the other team guessed 6. Dumbies. (The question was something about the number of episodes of some show filmed at some location over a span of something along the lines of 20 years.) And so it was, we, the Leprecant's, took 2nd place and a $20 voucher for the Napper Tandy.
On Friday a storm was abrewin' in the North Bay. While driving across the parking lot to load up a bed frame I looked out the window to see a cardboard box keeping pace with me. It looked like it on little wheels, or perhaps being carried by the world's fastest ants.
I'm having an excellent Sunday, full to the brim with getting nothing done. I woke up at 9am (9am! Which means I had both 9.5 hours of sleep and a completely uneventful Saturday night.), watched some Scrubs, ate half a frozen chocolate bar, watched more scrubs, took a shower, ate some Top Ramen, and wrote this. Bliss I tell you. Boring to read about, but bliss none the less.
I didn't title this "don't read this, it's not good" for nothing.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
About Jury Duty
I've been called in for jury duty several times. The first few times I kept delaying it by pointing out that if I showed up for a two week trial I wouldn't be able to pay rent. Finally I could put it off no longer and I was assigned to a jury. We heard the case, deliberated, and hung on 2 out of 3 charges. There was a mistrial and I was done for a little over a year.
I was worried the cycle was starting all over again Monday, but things went fairly smoothly. I showed up at 1:30pm, the jury wrangler guy did a little speech about how things work, where to park, how much you get a day if you are selected ($17.50), and what we are supposed to do while we wait. Then he put on a video.
It was a terrible, terrible video featuring real former jurors. I guess they had trouble finding jurors who were both articulate and enjoyed their stint on a jury, because the 3 people they had talking to the camera were a disturbing combination of irritating and cheese-ball. There was one guy who was trying to say how he felt he added some common sense to his jury, but it took him 3 or 4 tries to say it. For the sake of the judicial system, I hope he was not the only bearer of sense. Maybe he just forgot to bring it with him to the filming.
Besides featuring real multiethnic jurors, they also blatantly cast a person of every race and gender* in every scene. The African-American, female judge respectfully asks the male Latin-American defense attorney to offer his closing statement to the multiethnic, Mervin's-dressy, overly-attentive jury.
The voiceover was also excellent. They used such gems as "... and we live in California, the best state in the union" and "Usually we live in a peaceful and harmonious society, but sometimes we have disputes. When such disputes arise, they must be settled with justice."
Despite all this, we, the prospective jurors, all paid attention to the video. Well, all but one short, slightly thugged-out, Asian guy with gargantuan headphones. He wasn't listening to the video because he was listening to opera at such a volume that it could be heard by me, over the sound of the TV, from 20 feet away.
After the video was over they called about half the people in the room into a courtroom for jury selection. Happily, I wasn't one of them. There was one guy who was selected who I'm almost positive will not get on an actual jury. Not to judge on appearances, but he was wearing two hats (a baseball cap with a knit cap on top), a floor length, black, nylon trench coat, a bright blue t-shirt covered with cartoon cats, and a florescent green fanny-pack. He also had veeeeeeery long fingernails and kept talking to himself. (Until his friend the gigantic, punk, transvestite came and sat at his table. Then fanny-pack man talked to him/her.) I'm pretty sure Captain Kitty-T is the textbook example of someone you eliminate from your jury pool.
Maybe dressed like that on purpose. Maybe I should try that. Either way, I didn't need to go to such lengths. At 2:15pm, right after I bought some red vines and a 7up, they said everyone left in the waiting room could go home. So I hopped on my scooter and drove home to inadequately prepare for open mic night. Not a bad way to get out of work for half a day.
* I realize that "a person of every race and gender" insinuates that I think there might be 3 or 4 genders, but I do realize there are only 2. Though in defense of that sentence, I’m not sure either gender would fall all over themselves to include the huge punk transvestite as part of their team.
I've been called in for jury duty several times. The first few times I kept delaying it by pointing out that if I showed up for a two week trial I wouldn't be able to pay rent. Finally I could put it off no longer and I was assigned to a jury. We heard the case, deliberated, and hung on 2 out of 3 charges. There was a mistrial and I was done for a little over a year.
I was worried the cycle was starting all over again Monday, but things went fairly smoothly. I showed up at 1:30pm, the jury wrangler guy did a little speech about how things work, where to park, how much you get a day if you are selected ($17.50), and what we are supposed to do while we wait. Then he put on a video.
It was a terrible, terrible video featuring real former jurors. I guess they had trouble finding jurors who were both articulate and enjoyed their stint on a jury, because the 3 people they had talking to the camera were a disturbing combination of irritating and cheese-ball. There was one guy who was trying to say how he felt he added some common sense to his jury, but it took him 3 or 4 tries to say it. For the sake of the judicial system, I hope he was not the only bearer of sense. Maybe he just forgot to bring it with him to the filming.
Besides featuring real multiethnic jurors, they also blatantly cast a person of every race and gender* in every scene. The African-American, female judge respectfully asks the male Latin-American defense attorney to offer his closing statement to the multiethnic, Mervin's-dressy, overly-attentive jury.
The voiceover was also excellent. They used such gems as "... and we live in California, the best state in the union" and "Usually we live in a peaceful and harmonious society, but sometimes we have disputes. When such disputes arise, they must be settled with justice."
Despite all this, we, the prospective jurors, all paid attention to the video. Well, all but one short, slightly thugged-out, Asian guy with gargantuan headphones. He wasn't listening to the video because he was listening to opera at such a volume that it could be heard by me, over the sound of the TV, from 20 feet away.
After the video was over they called about half the people in the room into a courtroom for jury selection. Happily, I wasn't one of them. There was one guy who was selected who I'm almost positive will not get on an actual jury. Not to judge on appearances, but he was wearing two hats (a baseball cap with a knit cap on top), a floor length, black, nylon trench coat, a bright blue t-shirt covered with cartoon cats, and a florescent green fanny-pack. He also had veeeeeeery long fingernails and kept talking to himself. (Until his friend the gigantic, punk, transvestite came and sat at his table. Then fanny-pack man talked to him/her.) I'm pretty sure Captain Kitty-T is the textbook example of someone you eliminate from your jury pool.
Maybe dressed like that on purpose. Maybe I should try that. Either way, I didn't need to go to such lengths. At 2:15pm, right after I bought some red vines and a 7up, they said everyone left in the waiting room could go home. So I hopped on my scooter and drove home to inadequately prepare for open mic night. Not a bad way to get out of work for half a day.
* I realize that "a person of every race and gender" insinuates that I think there might be 3 or 4 genders, but I do realize there are only 2. Though in defense of that sentence, I’m not sure either gender would fall all over themselves to include the huge punk transvestite as part of their team.
Monday, April 18, 2005
Not About Jury Duty
In lieu of a long post about jury duty, here's a short post about open mic:
It had been quite a while since I last played at open mic, and I was hoping to come back with something interesting, namely a song I wrote called Ordinary, where I use the words transubstantiate and elucidate (without rhyming them), and a cover of Criminal, by Fiona Apple. Both of the songs are available on my songs page, though the live version of Ordinary is better but the recording of Criminal is MUCH, MUCH better.
I tried to start Criminal with the signature bass riff, and failed. Then I completely stopped and started over. This time I just played it badly. Then, about a quarter of the way through the song, the part of my brain in charge of remembering chords went on vacation. Generally the rule is to keep playing and no one will notice, but I chose a different route. In the middle of my screw-up I said, "Ugh!" I'm currently fighting the urge to curl up in a fetal position under my bed.
On the brighter side I saw a friend from school I hadn't seen in since graduation. Also, there was an excellent duo with a 4-string guitar and a snare drum who covered Stuck in the Middle with You.
And now, since it's 11pm, I think it's high time I get into bed and bask in the embarrassment of thoroughly screwing up a song in front of 25 people.
In lieu of a long post about jury duty, here's a short post about open mic:
It had been quite a while since I last played at open mic, and I was hoping to come back with something interesting, namely a song I wrote called Ordinary, where I use the words transubstantiate and elucidate (without rhyming them), and a cover of Criminal, by Fiona Apple. Both of the songs are available on my songs page, though the live version of Ordinary is better but the recording of Criminal is MUCH, MUCH better.
I tried to start Criminal with the signature bass riff, and failed. Then I completely stopped and started over. This time I just played it badly. Then, about a quarter of the way through the song, the part of my brain in charge of remembering chords went on vacation. Generally the rule is to keep playing and no one will notice, but I chose a different route. In the middle of my screw-up I said, "Ugh!" I'm currently fighting the urge to curl up in a fetal position under my bed.
On the brighter side I saw a friend from school I hadn't seen in since graduation. Also, there was an excellent duo with a 4-string guitar and a snare drum who covered Stuck in the Middle with You.
And now, since it's 11pm, I think it's high time I get into bed and bask in the embarrassment of thoroughly screwing up a song in front of 25 people.
Friday, April 15, 2005
How Did You Get Here?
According to my stats thingy, some 623 unique people visited my blog last month. With dynamic IP addresses and automated search engines the actual number is probably more like 2, but none the less, seeing those stats made me feel a little cooler (he writes on a planless Friday night.)
Here's how other people found me:
Google: vienetta to sell
Google: "pub quiz team names"
Google: good frickin chicken
Google: my signature in outlook is loosing my logo
Google: dmv voice reading for oregon drivers manual
Google: good frickin chicken
Google: company car with sonicare
Google: coat hanger nipples
Yahoo: chocolate meringue cookies + trader joes
Google: good frickin chicken
Yahoo: bowl of mash potatoes picture
Google: good frickin chicken
Google: Travis AFB Unit 36 pictures Air Traffic Controllers 2004
Yahoo: scooter mike
Google: blue plastic snow saucers
Google: Never get hiccups
Google: good frickin chicken
Google: blog working at bestbuy
Google: keaton simons girlfriend
Google: dealsonic sucks
My favorite one is "company car with sonicare." I have both a company car and a Sonicare toothbrush, but I don’t think I could safely combine them. Also, apparently nobody is searching for SYPBISI. That particular plan seems to have failed.
According to my stats thingy, some 623 unique people visited my blog last month. With dynamic IP addresses and automated search engines the actual number is probably more like 2, but none the less, seeing those stats made me feel a little cooler (he writes on a planless Friday night.)
Here's how other people found me:
Google: vienetta to sell
Google: "pub quiz team names"
Google: good frickin chicken
Google: my signature in outlook is loosing my logo
Google: dmv voice reading for oregon drivers manual
Google: good frickin chicken
Google: company car with sonicare
Google: coat hanger nipples
Yahoo: chocolate meringue cookies + trader joes
Google: good frickin chicken
Yahoo: bowl of mash potatoes picture
Google: good frickin chicken
Google: Travis AFB Unit 36 pictures Air Traffic Controllers 2004
Yahoo: scooter mike
Google: blue plastic snow saucers
Google: Never get hiccups
Google: good frickin chicken
Google: blog working at bestbuy
Google: keaton simons girlfriend
Google: dealsonic sucks
My favorite one is "company car with sonicare." I have both a company car and a Sonicare toothbrush, but I don’t think I could safely combine them. Also, apparently nobody is searching for SYPBISI. That particular plan seems to have failed.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Zero Sum Day
I started my day as I normally do, by stumbling out of bed and into the bathroom. As I was sitting on the toilet reading Newsweek, I got an inkling of how the rest of my day would go when I drooled on myself for the second time in as many days.
Yep, just like yesterday morning, a longish string of drool jumped off my lower lip and landed on my arm. Drool on me once, shame on the drool. Drool on me twice, well, don't drool on me twice.
After taking my shower to wash off both my nightly accumulated funk and my fresh drool, I went to work where I put together 4 mattresses. (Yeah, when we sell them they come in pieces, and it's not exciting enough to go into more detail.) At that point I was sent to Alameda to check on a mattress another tech (the one that sets his car alarm off every time he enters his vehicle) was having trouble setting up.
So I drove the 45 minutes to Alameda to find the tech gone, the bed made, and the patient asleep. There was no way to check on the mattress, so I went to lunch and came back to the depot.
When I got there, my supervisor told me that the foam inserts weren't coated with fire-retardant material and I had to take them apart. By 5pm I had officially undone everything I had done for the day.
For anyone keeping score, my accomplishments for the day are as follows:
1) Going to the bathroom
2) Keeping up my daily drool routine for the second day running
3) Showering
4) Eating a bagel
5) Eating lunch
That's it. That's every single thing I've accomplished today. And now, to top it off, I plan to go undercook some 4-cheese ravioli, sprinkle some parmesan cheese over it (the kind in the green can), and go to sleep. Not an exciting day, but I'm liking where my night is going.
I started my day as I normally do, by stumbling out of bed and into the bathroom. As I was sitting on the toilet reading Newsweek, I got an inkling of how the rest of my day would go when I drooled on myself for the second time in as many days.
Yep, just like yesterday morning, a longish string of drool jumped off my lower lip and landed on my arm. Drool on me once, shame on the drool. Drool on me twice, well, don't drool on me twice.
After taking my shower to wash off both my nightly accumulated funk and my fresh drool, I went to work where I put together 4 mattresses. (Yeah, when we sell them they come in pieces, and it's not exciting enough to go into more detail.) At that point I was sent to Alameda to check on a mattress another tech (the one that sets his car alarm off every time he enters his vehicle) was having trouble setting up.
So I drove the 45 minutes to Alameda to find the tech gone, the bed made, and the patient asleep. There was no way to check on the mattress, so I went to lunch and came back to the depot.
When I got there, my supervisor told me that the foam inserts weren't coated with fire-retardant material and I had to take them apart. By 5pm I had officially undone everything I had done for the day.
For anyone keeping score, my accomplishments for the day are as follows:
1) Going to the bathroom
2) Keeping up my daily drool routine for the second day running
3) Showering
4) Eating a bagel
5) Eating lunch
That's it. That's every single thing I've accomplished today. And now, to top it off, I plan to go undercook some 4-cheese ravioli, sprinkle some parmesan cheese over it (the kind in the green can), and go to sleep. Not an exciting day, but I'm liking where my night is going.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
We Won! ((Most-)Weekly Pub Quiz Update)
As the title suggests, we won. We were "H&R Blokes", and we came in first with 60 points. Second place was "Bain of Your Existence" with 57. Best name: Martha's LoJack which I feel, since we were taken out of the running for best name by coming in first, was a good choice for the bottle of champagne.
Sooner or later I'm going to need some sleep this week.
As the title suggests, we won. We were "H&R Blokes", and we came in first with 60 points. Second place was "Bain of Your Existence" with 57. Best name: Martha's LoJack which I feel, since we were taken out of the running for best name by coming in first, was a good choice for the bottle of champagne.
Sooner or later I'm going to need some sleep this week.
(Boring) Itty Bits
I'm training a new guy at work which involves a lot of driving around with him. It turns out we have very little to talk about. He's a nice guy, but we can't seem to fill much more than 5% of our time with talking. I actually listened to a baseball game on the radio yesterday because I felt bad for making so little noise.
The new guy and I delivered a mattress today to a really nice old lady who lives all by herself in a HUGE house in San Francisco. It's kind of sad really. She mostly stays in a little hospital bed in a little room in back. The only time she's out of bed is when her mattress gets a hole in it and I have to come replace it, which is more often than you might think. (I'm starting to suspect that she has spines or thorns or something.) Anyhow, she was grateful to us for coming out to fix her mattress, so she decided to become a stereotype and opened a big tin of hard candy. She then closed the tin of hard candy, and vigorously shook it to try to break a few pieces off from the solid candy-mass. Some broke free and we each took a piece. Then I finished up the paperwork, left the house, and we both immediately threw our candy in the trash. I try to be polite, but I'm not a big fan of amputated candy.
All restaurant chairs are exactly the same and it's starting to freak me out. A Subway in Santa Rosa, a little place in Albuquerque, The Olive Garden in San Francisco, and countless other eateries all have chairs of the same design. Seat material and finishes come in several varieties, but they are all, in essence, exactly the same chair. Maybe I'll try to take pictures. Or invest in the company that makes them.
They're everywhere I tell you. Everywhere.
I'm training a new guy at work which involves a lot of driving around with him. It turns out we have very little to talk about. He's a nice guy, but we can't seem to fill much more than 5% of our time with talking. I actually listened to a baseball game on the radio yesterday because I felt bad for making so little noise.
The new guy and I delivered a mattress today to a really nice old lady who lives all by herself in a HUGE house in San Francisco. It's kind of sad really. She mostly stays in a little hospital bed in a little room in back. The only time she's out of bed is when her mattress gets a hole in it and I have to come replace it, which is more often than you might think. (I'm starting to suspect that she has spines or thorns or something.) Anyhow, she was grateful to us for coming out to fix her mattress, so she decided to become a stereotype and opened a big tin of hard candy. She then closed the tin of hard candy, and vigorously shook it to try to break a few pieces off from the solid candy-mass. Some broke free and we each took a piece. Then I finished up the paperwork, left the house, and we both immediately threw our candy in the trash. I try to be polite, but I'm not a big fan of amputated candy.
All restaurant chairs are exactly the same and it's starting to freak me out. A Subway in Santa Rosa, a little place in Albuquerque, The Olive Garden in San Francisco, and countless other eateries all have chairs of the same design. Seat material and finishes come in several varieties, but they are all, in essence, exactly the same chair. Maybe I'll try to take pictures. Or invest in the company that makes them.
They're everywhere I tell you. Everywhere.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
A Sharp Stick in the Eye
Yesterday I saw a woman driving along on the freeway and eating her lunch ... with chopsticks. Eating with chopsticks wins second prize for method of eating least compatible with driving. The first, I think, would be fondue (which I feel is both a style of food and method of eating.)
Let's compare:
-Chopsticks are hard and sharp enough that they could impale you with the help of an airbag.
-Fondue forks are harder and sharper and designed with stabbing in mind.
-Eating a bowl of whatever with chopsticks requires two hands and driving requires at least one, for a total hand-discrepancy of one.
-The Sterno employed to heat the chocolate/cheese/oil for the fondue could set your lap on fire.
Food attained at drive through is soft and non-flammable for a reason.
Yesterday I saw a woman driving along on the freeway and eating her lunch ... with chopsticks. Eating with chopsticks wins second prize for method of eating least compatible with driving. The first, I think, would be fondue (which I feel is both a style of food and method of eating.)
Let's compare:
-Chopsticks are hard and sharp enough that they could impale you with the help of an airbag.
-Fondue forks are harder and sharper and designed with stabbing in mind.
-Eating a bowl of whatever with chopsticks requires two hands and driving requires at least one, for a total hand-discrepancy of one.
-The Sterno employed to heat the chocolate/cheese/oil for the fondue could set your lap on fire.
Food attained at drive through is soft and non-flammable for a reason.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Costco Sample Slinger
The sample lady: These raviolis take only 10 minutes to coooooook. They have four cheeses and come with a packet of seaaaaaaaaasoning. Just boil them for 10 minutes and coat them with some olive oiiiiiil.
Customer: How much are they?
TSL: Thirteen ninety niiiiine.
Customer: And where are they?
TSL: In the freezers on the left almost at the eeeeeend.
She was very strange, but made some good ravioli.
The sample lady: These raviolis take only 10 minutes to coooooook. They have four cheeses and come with a packet of seaaaaaaaaasoning. Just boil them for 10 minutes and coat them with some olive oiiiiiil.
Customer: How much are they?
TSL: Thirteen ninety niiiiine.
Customer: And where are they?
TSL: In the freezers on the left almost at the eeeeeend.
She was very strange, but made some good ravioli.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Down with Toes
I've discovered that my little soap container, when full of a new bar of soap, is surprisingly heavy and vindictive. It seems to be single mindedly determined to rid my feet of toes. It leaps down upon my feet from wherever I set it. The soap container particularly enjoys the inside shower door rail as it has an extra 2 feet to pick up speed before both crashing into my toes and giving me a heart attack. (It cunningly waits to dive-bomb until I have shampoo running down over my eyelids.)
The soap container may have misunderstood my own hatred of feet. It's true - I find feet extremely unappealing. Feet range on a beauty scale from hoarkingly disgusting to meh. I've yet to see a foot older than a year that has achieved a ranking of cute or even okay. Even so, I understand their usefulness in actives like walking, driving, and keeping me from falling over when I come to a stop on my scooter.
You have no comrade in me, soap container. You may find yourself trapped between the shampoo and that wall before the week is out.
I've discovered that my little soap container, when full of a new bar of soap, is surprisingly heavy and vindictive. It seems to be single mindedly determined to rid my feet of toes. It leaps down upon my feet from wherever I set it. The soap container particularly enjoys the inside shower door rail as it has an extra 2 feet to pick up speed before both crashing into my toes and giving me a heart attack. (It cunningly waits to dive-bomb until I have shampoo running down over my eyelids.)
The soap container may have misunderstood my own hatred of feet. It's true - I find feet extremely unappealing. Feet range on a beauty scale from hoarkingly disgusting to meh. I've yet to see a foot older than a year that has achieved a ranking of cute or even okay. Even so, I understand their usefulness in actives like walking, driving, and keeping me from falling over when I come to a stop on my scooter.
You have no comrade in me, soap container. You may find yourself trapped between the shampoo and that wall before the week is out.
Friday, April 08, 2005
Terrible Music
I came home to Piranha Man (my neighbor across the fire-escape) blasting Matchbox 20. Listening to Matchbox 20 (whom I hesitate to even capitalize) at a reasonable volume is bad. Blasting them is like being eaten by a shark and requesting that it chews on you slowly, savoring each bite.
By the way, if anyone is looking for other professional, quality similes, my services are always available.
I came home to Piranha Man (my neighbor across the fire-escape) blasting Matchbox 20. Listening to Matchbox 20 (whom I hesitate to even capitalize) at a reasonable volume is bad. Blasting them is like being eaten by a shark and requesting that it chews on you slowly, savoring each bite.
By the way, if anyone is looking for other professional, quality similes, my services are always available.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
IRS?*
I've apparently just completed my 2004 taxes. I finished the federal bit with the help of turbo tax and my accountant (pronounced Mom), and I just did the State bit online.
Turbo tax seemed like a good program. They included some weird, convoluted sentences, but the sentences were required in describing the weird convoluted tax code. However, the online California tax filing system outsourced some of their copy writing to Yoda. The second sentence said something along the lines of, "Did all include your form(s) W-2 income any dark side of force bring you?" After consulting my momcountant, we decided that my W-2s were indeed part of the dark side. I hope that's what the IRS wants to hear.
The upshot is that I'm getting money back. I'm a little skeptical about this refund, because my federal tax return kicked my ass for collecting unemployment. Now my state return sidles up playing the good cop and gives me a whopping refund for being all poor and unemployed from February through July.
I think the government is bipolar or passive aggressive or something.
*This post was brought to you by Internet Explorer, which I haven't used in quite some time. I guess Blogger is having a little tiff with Firefox at the moment. I hope they settle their differences soon. And if whoever took the data from the document would kindly put it back, I would sincerely appreciate it.
I've apparently just completed my 2004 taxes. I finished the federal bit with the help of turbo tax and my accountant (pronounced Mom), and I just did the State bit online.
Turbo tax seemed like a good program. They included some weird, convoluted sentences, but the sentences were required in describing the weird convoluted tax code. However, the online California tax filing system outsourced some of their copy writing to Yoda. The second sentence said something along the lines of, "Did all include your form(s) W-2 income any dark side of force bring you?" After consulting my momcountant, we decided that my W-2s were indeed part of the dark side. I hope that's what the IRS wants to hear.
The upshot is that I'm getting money back. I'm a little skeptical about this refund, because my federal tax return kicked my ass for collecting unemployment. Now my state return sidles up playing the good cop and gives me a whopping refund for being all poor and unemployed from February through July.
I think the government is bipolar or passive aggressive or something.
*This post was brought to you by Internet Explorer, which I haven't used in quite some time. I guess Blogger is having a little tiff with Firefox at the moment. I hope they settle their differences soon. And if whoever took the data from the document would kindly put it back, I would sincerely appreciate it.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
No See Ums
I'd like to warn all those who find themselves on Highway 37 or 101 to pack extra windshield wiper fluid. Both today and yesterday were filled with a fusillade* of large, yellow-dusted, suicidal butterflies. Err, let's say moths. Nobody wants to hear about a view completely obscured by butterfly bits.
* It took me literally 5 whole minutes of cruising around on Google and then M-W.com to figure out how to spell fusillade. This is the problem with a) not being able to spell, and b) picking up new vocabulary via books on CD.
I'd like to warn all those who find themselves on Highway 37 or 101 to pack extra windshield wiper fluid. Both today and yesterday were filled with a fusillade* of large, yellow-dusted, suicidal butterflies. Err, let's say moths. Nobody wants to hear about a view completely obscured by butterfly bits.
* It took me literally 5 whole minutes of cruising around on Google and then M-W.com to figure out how to spell fusillade. This is the problem with a) not being able to spell, and b) picking up new vocabulary via books on CD.
Flight of the Bajaj Legend
I've done it. I got my permit, I bought my insurance, I purchased my scooter, and yesterday I picked it up. You are currently reading the typings of one happy guy.
After the San Francisco Scooter Center closed, Barry, the owner, loaded me onto the back of my scooter and we drove to Pac Bell Park so I could putter around in the parking lot without fear of getting hit by a truck. Alas, there had been a game earlier in the day, so there were still a few cars in the lot, and what pavement wasn't covered by cars was covered by glass beer bottles. Does nobody take canned beer to games?
In addition to contending with parked cars (not a big deal) and beer bottles, both broken and not (sort of a big deal as they tend to sneak up you), I also had to avoid being run down by the mini dirt-bike stunt rider brigade. There were 4 or 5 guys and 1 girl riding around on little tiny dirt bikes perfecting their wheelies and doughnuts. They also very much enjoyed zooming down to the minute square of parking lot I was using to figure out where the friction point on my clutch is, and scaring the crap out of me. But after a little less than an hour, I was more comfortable with making my scooter go, stop, and turn corners and was ready to get out on the open road. (That and it was getting dark, and I'm not aloud to ride after dark until I get a real license.)
I became a passenger for the second time on the way back to the shop, then switched back to driver for my trip home. Barry followed me home on his own scooter to make sure I didn't immediately fall off and die. It was very thoughtful.
All in all, I'm thoroughly happy with buying my scooter from SF Scooter Center. And apart from the fact that my right blinker doesn't work (which I plan to get fixed on Saturday), I'm very happy with my scooter.
Which is not to say that I don't need more practice. Tonight I took my maiden voyage (by maiden I mean leaving from and returning to my house) to Trader Joe's. I only made 3 mistakes. Not bad for only my second time on a scooter.
1) I took a turn waaaay too wide, but on an empty street. No cars no foul.
2) At a stop sign with cars on all sides, when my turn came I killed the engine. Everyone else took their turn, and then I tried again, this time successfully.
3) This was the most exciting mistake. The ramp into the parking lot at TJ's is at a slight incline. I had forgotten this, and probably should have entered through the other side since I hadn't practiced starting on a hill yet. None the less, 2 small wheelies later, I made it into the parking lot followed by the frightened eyes of the car at which I had inadvertently aimed my wheelies. Apparently the Bajaj is not without its fair share of pep.
Anyone who would like to more accurately picture my scooting can see what a silver Bajaj Legend looks like here.
I've done it. I got my permit, I bought my insurance, I purchased my scooter, and yesterday I picked it up. You are currently reading the typings of one happy guy.
After the San Francisco Scooter Center closed, Barry, the owner, loaded me onto the back of my scooter and we drove to Pac Bell Park so I could putter around in the parking lot without fear of getting hit by a truck. Alas, there had been a game earlier in the day, so there were still a few cars in the lot, and what pavement wasn't covered by cars was covered by glass beer bottles. Does nobody take canned beer to games?
In addition to contending with parked cars (not a big deal) and beer bottles, both broken and not (sort of a big deal as they tend to sneak up you), I also had to avoid being run down by the mini dirt-bike stunt rider brigade. There were 4 or 5 guys and 1 girl riding around on little tiny dirt bikes perfecting their wheelies and doughnuts. They also very much enjoyed zooming down to the minute square of parking lot I was using to figure out where the friction point on my clutch is, and scaring the crap out of me. But after a little less than an hour, I was more comfortable with making my scooter go, stop, and turn corners and was ready to get out on the open road. (That and it was getting dark, and I'm not aloud to ride after dark until I get a real license.)
I became a passenger for the second time on the way back to the shop, then switched back to driver for my trip home. Barry followed me home on his own scooter to make sure I didn't immediately fall off and die. It was very thoughtful.
All in all, I'm thoroughly happy with buying my scooter from SF Scooter Center. And apart from the fact that my right blinker doesn't work (which I plan to get fixed on Saturday), I'm very happy with my scooter.
Which is not to say that I don't need more practice. Tonight I took my maiden voyage (by maiden I mean leaving from and returning to my house) to Trader Joe's. I only made 3 mistakes. Not bad for only my second time on a scooter.
1) I took a turn waaaay too wide, but on an empty street. No cars no foul.
2) At a stop sign with cars on all sides, when my turn came I killed the engine. Everyone else took their turn, and then I tried again, this time successfully.
3) This was the most exciting mistake. The ramp into the parking lot at TJ's is at a slight incline. I had forgotten this, and probably should have entered through the other side since I hadn't practiced starting on a hill yet. None the less, 2 small wheelies later, I made it into the parking lot followed by the frightened eyes of the car at which I had inadvertently aimed my wheelies. Apparently the Bajaj is not without its fair share of pep.
Anyone who would like to more accurately picture my scooting can see what a silver Bajaj Legend looks like here.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Praying for the JP part Duex
I keep hearing on the radio how everyone is holding mass and praying for John Paul II. I'm not a big religious guy, so maybe I'm misunderstanding the reason to pray for people, but it seems to me that the Pope would be the very last person who would need to be prayed for.
Am I wrong? Isn't the point of praying for someone to increase their chances of getting into heaven? After they're done praying for the Pope they can switch to praying for Jesus. I hear he may be having some trouble slipping by St. Peter.
I keep hearing on the radio how everyone is holding mass and praying for John Paul II. I'm not a big religious guy, so maybe I'm misunderstanding the reason to pray for people, but it seems to me that the Pope would be the very last person who would need to be prayed for.
Am I wrong? Isn't the point of praying for someone to increase their chances of getting into heaven? After they're done praying for the Pope they can switch to praying for Jesus. I hear he may be having some trouble slipping by St. Peter.
Monday, April 04, 2005
Blurbs
Things in the bathroom may seem more important than they are
While I was in the airport waiting for my flight back to San Francisco, I went into the bathroom right as a TSA guy was leaving. My first thought was that he was checking for some security breach. However, it quickly dawned on me that he was probably just peeing.
Yet another downside of smoking
On my way to get a burrito today, I saw a girl stopped in the center lane of Potrero, which is a 3 lane, none-too-quiet street at 6pm on a Monday. She had her rear door open and she was crouched down on the street looking around on the floor of her back seats. People honked and swerved around her, but she was undeterred. After about a minute she emerged triumphant bearing the fruits of her adventure: A lit, but almost entirely new cigarette.
No good things
In my quest to reduce the amount my pager stabs me in the love handles (and to avoid getting diabetes) I'm trying to cut down on my sugar intake. I did an excellent job today by not stopping for m&ms or milkshakes, and opting for a diet 7up during lunch. Unfortunately I had a burrito for dinner, and the law clearly states that burritos require a cup of strawberry juice. However, the guy behind the counter (who is very nice but has the most gargantuan man boobs (moobs) ever to grace this earth) said they only had watermelon juice. Fine by me, I thought, give me a cup of that. So I walked home with only the slightest sugar infraction: my cup of cantaloupe juice. Yes, cantaloupe. Still good, but twice removed from what I was expecting.
Things in the bathroom may seem more important than they are
While I was in the airport waiting for my flight back to San Francisco, I went into the bathroom right as a TSA guy was leaving. My first thought was that he was checking for some security breach. However, it quickly dawned on me that he was probably just peeing.
Yet another downside of smoking
On my way to get a burrito today, I saw a girl stopped in the center lane of Potrero, which is a 3 lane, none-too-quiet street at 6pm on a Monday. She had her rear door open and she was crouched down on the street looking around on the floor of her back seats. People honked and swerved around her, but she was undeterred. After about a minute she emerged triumphant bearing the fruits of her adventure: A lit, but almost entirely new cigarette.
No good things
In my quest to reduce the amount my pager stabs me in the love handles (and to avoid getting diabetes) I'm trying to cut down on my sugar intake. I did an excellent job today by not stopping for m&ms or milkshakes, and opting for a diet 7up during lunch. Unfortunately I had a burrito for dinner, and the law clearly states that burritos require a cup of strawberry juice. However, the guy behind the counter (who is very nice but has the most gargantuan man boobs (moobs) ever to grace this earth) said they only had watermelon juice. Fine by me, I thought, give me a cup of that. So I walked home with only the slightest sugar infraction: my cup of cantaloupe juice. Yes, cantaloupe. Still good, but twice removed from what I was expecting.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Scootering Apparel
I'm looking around for a motorcycle jacket because I just got a scooter, and if I fall off, I'd prefer to retain some of my skin. However, I'm not wild about spending $200 on such a jacket, so I was perusing Amazon.com for some cheaper alternatives. I did a search for scooter, then clicked on apparel, then on men's. What I got, apart from some pictures of portly, goateed men in leather jackets, was a picture of a guy in a white terrycloth monk-robe in a bathroom sitting on what I assume is a toilet.
What a strange way to sell a product.
I'm looking around for a motorcycle jacket because I just got a scooter, and if I fall off, I'd prefer to retain some of my skin. However, I'm not wild about spending $200 on such a jacket, so I was perusing Amazon.com for some cheaper alternatives. I did a search for scooter, then clicked on apparel, then on men's. What I got, apart from some pictures of portly, goateed men in leather jackets, was a picture of a guy in a white terrycloth monk-robe in a bathroom sitting on what I assume is a toilet.
What a strange way to sell a product.
Pick N Yank
Yesterday I required a raspberry hot chocolate, so I went to the little drive up stand across the street from Travis Air Force Base. (Which is apparently home to any number of things which entertain me.)
Normally I like going to the little stand - They make good raspberry hot chocolate, and the girl that works there is both nice and fairly attractive. However, when I pulled up yesterday she failed to notice me as she was totally engrossed in tweezing out her armpit hairs with the help of a very small mirror.
I sat there for maybe 30 seconds, thinking that she was maybe just in the middle of a particularly exacting pluck, but she still didn't notice me so I knocked on the window. I did so quietly in hopes that she wouldn't start and impale her milk steaming arm with the tweezers.
To keep what should be a short story from getting overly long, it all worked out, I got my raspberry hot chocolate (not too hot and therefore not chunky) with whipped cream and drove away. I wasn't even terribly grossed out. I mean, she was in the half of the little room away from the food. Very sanitary.
Yesterday I required a raspberry hot chocolate, so I went to the little drive up stand across the street from Travis Air Force Base. (Which is apparently home to any number of things which entertain me.)
Normally I like going to the little stand - They make good raspberry hot chocolate, and the girl that works there is both nice and fairly attractive. However, when I pulled up yesterday she failed to notice me as she was totally engrossed in tweezing out her armpit hairs with the help of a very small mirror.
I sat there for maybe 30 seconds, thinking that she was maybe just in the middle of a particularly exacting pluck, but she still didn't notice me so I knocked on the window. I did so quietly in hopes that she wouldn't start and impale her milk steaming arm with the tweezers.
To keep what should be a short story from getting overly long, it all worked out, I got my raspberry hot chocolate (not too hot and therefore not chunky) with whipped cream and drove away. I wasn't even terribly grossed out. I mean, she was in the half of the little room away from the food. Very sanitary.
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