I Can't Believe It
Here we are, 5 hours away from the end of my Safeway poster auction, and it has received exactly no bids. When I put my poster, a book on CD, and a student version of MATLAB on eBay, I would have told you without hesitation that the Safeway poster was the most likely to bring me fabulous riches. And yet the MATLAB is going to come in at top dollar. People just have no sense of the true worth of things.
In other unexplainable news, on Friday I saw a man in Office Depot doing old-timey calisthenics; the kind where you stick one arm out straight in front of you and then kick your leg up so your knee hits your hand. One leg, then the other, over and over again. He didn't look crazy, but then again, I couldn't figure out if he was there with anyone and maybe just passing the time until that person was through shopping for whiteout. Luckily my copies were ready so I left before he started with the deep knee bends or broke out the medicine ball.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Friday, May 27, 2005
B-list Actors
Last night I had a dream where, among other things, I thought I recognized this girl working at some store. I soon realized that since I was in Fairfield, she must be the same girl who works at the coffee stand across the street from Travis Air Force Base.
I realize the dream isn't very exciting, but I bring it up because I think it's odd that my brain chooses to populate my dreams with only the most obscure characters from my everyday life. I've seen that girl maybe 4 times during the whole of my existence*, so it's not like she's a meaningful part of my life at this point.
Pretty soon I'll start having dreams about some lady I saw filling up her car as I drove past the 76 station on Mark West Road, and it'll drive me nuts trying to figure out where I know her from.
Oh my. Sleeping is such a chore.
*If one were not so good at distinguishing between homonyms, one might say “the hole of my existence,” which would be a really depressing sentiment.
Last night I had a dream where, among other things, I thought I recognized this girl working at some store. I soon realized that since I was in Fairfield, she must be the same girl who works at the coffee stand across the street from Travis Air Force Base.
I realize the dream isn't very exciting, but I bring it up because I think it's odd that my brain chooses to populate my dreams with only the most obscure characters from my everyday life. I've seen that girl maybe 4 times during the whole of my existence*, so it's not like she's a meaningful part of my life at this point.
Pretty soon I'll start having dreams about some lady I saw filling up her car as I drove past the 76 station on Mark West Road, and it'll drive me nuts trying to figure out where I know her from.
Oh my. Sleeping is such a chore.
*If one were not so good at distinguishing between homonyms, one might say “the hole of my existence,” which would be a really depressing sentiment.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Tres Cosas
Uno) Today I sold my Peavey PA to a very small man who wanted to send it to a little church someplace in South America. He paid me exactly what I paid the guy I bought it from, which was nice for me. Also nice for me was the experience of feeling like a giant. He can't have been more than about 4'7". It's not often that I feel sizeable. Most of the time I go around feeling fairly average.
Dos) Now that I'm coming up on Tuesday, the day I get the keys to my new digs*, I'm getting a little antsy to start moving. I have quite a few of my non-essentials packed, and I'm almost through selling stuff. You'd think I'd have enough room to put neatly stacked boxes someplace, but that's simply not true. The more I pack the less room I have. I'm a little worried that I'm creating matter and the physics police are going to come throw me in jail.
Tres) I think I'm entirely callused at this point from my job. Today I had these brief phone conversations:
Me: Hi, I'm calling from [my company]. I have a gel mattress pad for a Mr. Miller.
Lady: You're too late.
Me: Um. Too late?
Lady: Yes, too late. Mr. Miller died a week and a half ago.
Me: Oh. OK then. Sorry to bother you.
Me: I'm heading back. Mr. Miller died a week and a half ago.
My Supervisor: Well fine then. No gel for him.
Me: Indeed.
Later, back at the depot, I heard my supervisor on the phone laugh and then say, "let's not make fun of the dead."
Even callused as I am, I'm still not looking forward to Tuesday.
* Did I mention that the landlord of my new digs requires that I pay my rent in cash every month? $765 takes 3 ATM trips. That's a lot of trips. And I have no lease and filled out no application. Odd.
Uno) Today I sold my Peavey PA to a very small man who wanted to send it to a little church someplace in South America. He paid me exactly what I paid the guy I bought it from, which was nice for me. Also nice for me was the experience of feeling like a giant. He can't have been more than about 4'7". It's not often that I feel sizeable. Most of the time I go around feeling fairly average.
Dos) Now that I'm coming up on Tuesday, the day I get the keys to my new digs*, I'm getting a little antsy to start moving. I have quite a few of my non-essentials packed, and I'm almost through selling stuff. You'd think I'd have enough room to put neatly stacked boxes someplace, but that's simply not true. The more I pack the less room I have. I'm a little worried that I'm creating matter and the physics police are going to come throw me in jail.
Tres) I think I'm entirely callused at this point from my job. Today I had these brief phone conversations:
Me: Hi, I'm calling from [my company]. I have a gel mattress pad for a Mr. Miller.
Lady: You're too late.
Me: Um. Too late?
Lady: Yes, too late. Mr. Miller died a week and a half ago.
Me: Oh. OK then. Sorry to bother you.
Me: I'm heading back. Mr. Miller died a week and a half ago.
My Supervisor: Well fine then. No gel for him.
Me: Indeed.
Later, back at the depot, I heard my supervisor on the phone laugh and then say, "let's not make fun of the dead."
Even callused as I am, I'm still not looking forward to Tuesday.
* Did I mention that the landlord of my new digs requires that I pay my rent in cash every month? $765 takes 3 ATM trips. That's a lot of trips. And I have no lease and filled out no application. Odd.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Toast
9pm. San Francisco, The Mission District:
As a silver Land Rover pulls up to the curb, a man steps from the inky shadows wearing baggy pants and a baggy shirt, and carrying a small shiny box. The passenger window hums down and the man passes the box into the car. The woman driving puts out her cigarette in the ash tray and asks, "you said this shit works?" The man responds that it does, and money is exchanged. The man walks home happy, $5 richer and with one less toaster to move to his new place. The woman drives home secure in the knoledge that her friend "won't be making no more one-sided burnt-ass toast in her ghetto shit toaster no more."
Earlier in the day I sold my keyboard to an extremely religious man with slicked-back hair an anorexically skinny wife. I brought the keyboard to his house, and after he decided to buy it, offered me the $80 I had asked for it plus a stray cat. I said yes to the money and no to the cat who, as it happened, had 6 toes on his right front paw.
Hello. You clawed my Father. Prepare to go home with this stranger.
The following is the toaster ad that started it all:
Toaster - $5 (mission district)
Reply to: anon@craigslist.org
Date: 2005-05-24, 8:59PM PDT
This toaster makes 2 pieces of toast at a time, has shiny sides and a real fake wood front. So as not to be too fancy, the back is black plastic. It has a crumb hatch on the bottom and a darkness selector on the front. It would be perfect if I wanted to make toast, but I don’t and it shows no love for my bagels.
Email me if you would like to make some toast.
9pm. San Francisco, The Mission District:
As a silver Land Rover pulls up to the curb, a man steps from the inky shadows wearing baggy pants and a baggy shirt, and carrying a small shiny box. The passenger window hums down and the man passes the box into the car. The woman driving puts out her cigarette in the ash tray and asks, "you said this shit works?" The man responds that it does, and money is exchanged. The man walks home happy, $5 richer and with one less toaster to move to his new place. The woman drives home secure in the knoledge that her friend "won't be making no more one-sided burnt-ass toast in her ghetto shit toaster no more."
Earlier in the day I sold my keyboard to an extremely religious man with slicked-back hair an anorexically skinny wife. I brought the keyboard to his house, and after he decided to buy it, offered me the $80 I had asked for it plus a stray cat. I said yes to the money and no to the cat who, as it happened, had 6 toes on his right front paw.
Hello. You clawed my Father. Prepare to go home with this stranger.
The following is the toaster ad that started it all:
Toaster - $5 (mission district)
Reply to: anon@craigslist.org
Date: 2005-05-24, 8:59PM PDT
This toaster makes 2 pieces of toast at a time, has shiny sides and a real fake wood front. So as not to be too fancy, the back is black plastic. It has a crumb hatch on the bottom and a darkness selector on the front. It would be perfect if I wanted to make toast, but I don’t and it shows no love for my bagels.
Email me if you would like to make some toast.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Fantastic News from Corporate
It's not really fantastic. Really, it's awful.
Apart from the new guy, who has been at my company for about a month, I've been with my company for the less time than the other 3 rental techs. Even so, when my supervisor goes on vacation, I take over his duties. When something needs fixing, I fix it. When a complicated delivery needs to be made, I make that delivery. When something important needs to be done where the company can't afford to look retarded, they send me.
This is all well and good, and I'm sure it bodes well for my next review, but sometimes all this respect and responsibility comes back to bite me. Apparently Medicare is auditing my company on a patient in Alameda. In order to get on of our mattresses, a patient has to have bed sores someplace on their back, and they have to get a prescription from a doctor to treat those sores via our mattresses. Therefore Medicare wants proof of this patient's need for his mattress. Therefore, next Tuesday, I have to drive to Alameda and take 2 close-up Polaroids of the bed sore on his ass.
I was hoping, when I talked to him on the phone, that he would be all healed up. Nope, he says. I still have a sore, he says. It's on my ass, he says. Can I make an appointment to come take a picture for Medicare, I ask. Sure, how about Tuesday, he says.
Tips from corporate:
- Use a flash.
- Taking the picture in a dark room is best.
- Get as close as possible.
- Make sure the photo is clear.
- No faces.
And now I will spend every waking minute, and probably most sleeping minutes, dreading this coming Tuesday.
It's not really fantastic. Really, it's awful.
Apart from the new guy, who has been at my company for about a month, I've been with my company for the less time than the other 3 rental techs. Even so, when my supervisor goes on vacation, I take over his duties. When something needs fixing, I fix it. When a complicated delivery needs to be made, I make that delivery. When something important needs to be done where the company can't afford to look retarded, they send me.
This is all well and good, and I'm sure it bodes well for my next review, but sometimes all this respect and responsibility comes back to bite me. Apparently Medicare is auditing my company on a patient in Alameda. In order to get on of our mattresses, a patient has to have bed sores someplace on their back, and they have to get a prescription from a doctor to treat those sores via our mattresses. Therefore Medicare wants proof of this patient's need for his mattress. Therefore, next Tuesday, I have to drive to Alameda and take 2 close-up Polaroids of the bed sore on his ass.
I was hoping, when I talked to him on the phone, that he would be all healed up. Nope, he says. I still have a sore, he says. It's on my ass, he says. Can I make an appointment to come take a picture for Medicare, I ask. Sure, how about Tuesday, he says.
Tips from corporate:
- Use a flash.
- Taking the picture in a dark room is best.
- Get as close as possible.
- Make sure the photo is clear.
- No faces.
And now I will spend every waking minute, and probably most sleeping minutes, dreading this coming Tuesday.
Monday, May 23, 2005
And So Goes My Scooter
Not my new one, my old, late 90s fad one.
That's right, I too had a Razor Scooter. (The Shaper Image kind with the brake and wheelie bar.) I really, really wanted one, and finally I got my wish in 2000. I rode it around campus a little until I got one too many "nice scooter" comments. Such comments were not complimentary; they were spoken using a tone that led me to believe that people did not, in fact, think my scooter was nice.
And so the scooter lived under my bed for the next 5 years until yesterday night when Zhi from Craigslist expressed interest in it. He wrote me an email saying that he "would buy it off of you if you still have it cuz 10 buckz is good price." And a little later in the 3 sentence email that he would take "the 14 down to where u are n take it off your hands for 10 buckz."
He likes the letter z, but only sometimes. Hands is apparently ok to end with an s.
Anyway, when I told him I didn't live near the 14 line, he asked which line he should take, then quickly wrote back that I should "forget the last message ... i will MUNI myself ... to 16 n mission then take the 33 bus n get off @ 22nd potrero ave ... should be there by around 6 15- 6 30 or so."
He showed up at 6:37pm in all his 17 year old, greasy, acned glory and apologized for being 7 minutes late. Holding up his MUNI trip planner printout, he explained that "The MUNI just don't run on time. I mean, it said I would get here at 6:30. See? [Pointing to that line.] And It's 6:37. It was late."
I told him it was no problem and exchanged the scooter for $10. Apparently noticing our scooter bond, he reminisced, "I used to have one of these before. It was a real good scooter, but I let it go for $5 one day because I got hungry for a sandwich." To which I could only reply with a smile and a nod.
Before heading home he asked how to get to 24th and Mission. I pointed toward 24th and told him that when he got there to take a right and he would eventually run into Mission. He said, "Cool. I was planning on jumping on this thing and gliding home."
And I'm sure he would have done just that if the little, tiny wheels of a Razor Scooter were any match for San Francisco streets.
Not my new one, my old, late 90s fad one.
That's right, I too had a Razor Scooter. (The Shaper Image kind with the brake and wheelie bar.) I really, really wanted one, and finally I got my wish in 2000. I rode it around campus a little until I got one too many "nice scooter" comments. Such comments were not complimentary; they were spoken using a tone that led me to believe that people did not, in fact, think my scooter was nice.
And so the scooter lived under my bed for the next 5 years until yesterday night when Zhi from Craigslist expressed interest in it. He wrote me an email saying that he "would buy it off of you if you still have it cuz 10 buckz is good price." And a little later in the 3 sentence email that he would take "the 14 down to where u are n take it off your hands for 10 buckz."
He likes the letter z, but only sometimes. Hands is apparently ok to end with an s.
Anyway, when I told him I didn't live near the 14 line, he asked which line he should take, then quickly wrote back that I should "forget the last message ... i will MUNI myself ... to 16 n mission then take the 33 bus n get off @ 22nd potrero ave ... should be there by around 6 15- 6 30 or so."
He showed up at 6:37pm in all his 17 year old, greasy, acned glory and apologized for being 7 minutes late. Holding up his MUNI trip planner printout, he explained that "The MUNI just don't run on time. I mean, it said I would get here at 6:30. See? [Pointing to that line.] And It's 6:37. It was late."
I told him it was no problem and exchanged the scooter for $10. Apparently noticing our scooter bond, he reminisced, "I used to have one of these before. It was a real good scooter, but I let it go for $5 one day because I got hungry for a sandwich." To which I could only reply with a smile and a nod.
Before heading home he asked how to get to 24th and Mission. I pointed toward 24th and told him that when he got there to take a right and he would eventually run into Mission. He said, "Cool. I was planning on jumping on this thing and gliding home."
And I'm sure he would have done just that if the little, tiny wheels of a Razor Scooter were any match for San Francisco streets.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Rare Crap
Lets see how many posts I can write with the word crap in the title.
As I continue to divest myself of my many and varied possessions, I decided to get rid of my Safeway Club Card poster. It was taken out of a Safeway by a former roommate of mine who later went on to become a professional wrestler. The poster has happily adorned my walls for going on 8 years now, but I feel it's time to make my apartment look less dormy. I'm going to get rid of my futon too, but not until I move and save up a little. Paying double rent in San Francisco for a month is going to be unpleasant.
Anyway, anyone who would like to remember where the savings are* can remind themselves with this swell poster.
*They're in the card.
Lets see how many posts I can write with the word crap in the title.
As I continue to divest myself of my many and varied possessions, I decided to get rid of my Safeway Club Card poster. It was taken out of a Safeway by a former roommate of mine who later went on to become a professional wrestler. The poster has happily adorned my walls for going on 8 years now, but I feel it's time to make my apartment look less dormy. I'm going to get rid of my futon too, but not until I move and save up a little. Paying double rent in San Francisco for a month is going to be unpleasant.
Anyway, anyone who would like to remember where the savings are* can remind themselves with this swell poster.
*They're in the card.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
So Much Crap
I've finally gone and found myself an apartment. And because I would like to be able to walk around in it, I'm going to have to get rid of some of my crap. Especially the crap I haven't used in more than 4 years and in some cases more than 10.
So I'm putting stuff for sale on Craigslist. I hope somebody buys this stuff. If they don't I'll just have to keep reducing the price until they do, or put it in the free stuff section. Everything goes from free stuff.
Would anybody like to buy my:
RC Airplane (free but has no radio or servos)
Casio Keyboard ($120)
Razor Scooter ($20)
Really? Nobody?
I've finally gone and found myself an apartment. And because I would like to be able to walk around in it, I'm going to have to get rid of some of my crap. Especially the crap I haven't used in more than 4 years and in some cases more than 10.
So I'm putting stuff for sale on Craigslist. I hope somebody buys this stuff. If they don't I'll just have to keep reducing the price until they do, or put it in the free stuff section. Everything goes from free stuff.
Would anybody like to buy my:
RC Airplane (free but has no radio or servos)
Casio Keyboard ($120)
Razor Scooter ($20)
Really? Nobody?
Friday, May 20, 2005
I'm Here to Deliver the Mattress
I had made the appointment for 5:30pm, and sure enough, I was knocking on the door at 5:30pm. But nobody was answering. I could hear people talking, but the door was not opening.
So I rang the bell, and a few seconds later the door was answered by a very, very large man wearing a pair of small, black shorts and a single black sock. His back fat and ass were struggling over who had to support his waist band, and his back fat was winning, forcing his waist band down toward the floor. If he had sat down most of the time it would have been fine, but me delivering a mattress and wheelchair cushion seemed to involve a lot of him bending over to look for things on the floor.
Nobody wants to see that. I was in such a hurry to leave that I forgot to show them how to use the pump. Ah well. I'm not on call this weekend, so if they have trouble with it someone else can deal with the ass-man.
I had made the appointment for 5:30pm, and sure enough, I was knocking on the door at 5:30pm. But nobody was answering. I could hear people talking, but the door was not opening.
So I rang the bell, and a few seconds later the door was answered by a very, very large man wearing a pair of small, black shorts and a single black sock. His back fat and ass were struggling over who had to support his waist band, and his back fat was winning, forcing his waist band down toward the floor. If he had sat down most of the time it would have been fine, but me delivering a mattress and wheelchair cushion seemed to involve a lot of him bending over to look for things on the floor.
Nobody wants to see that. I was in such a hurry to leave that I forgot to show them how to use the pump. Ah well. I'm not on call this weekend, so if they have trouble with it someone else can deal with the ass-man.
Google for Galleons
Google entertains me. People found this blog searching for:
Cheesecake Factory AND Weight Watchers
"pub quiz team names"
oksana kadel
lyrics oklahoma "just a girl who can't say no"
ascii art "black power"
grow-sideburns
Can I get a yikes for the Oksana Kadel? And nobody is losing weight at the Cheesecake Factory.
Google entertains me. People found this blog searching for:
Cheesecake Factory AND Weight Watchers
"pub quiz team names"
oksana kadel
lyrics oklahoma "just a girl who can't say no"
ascii art "black power"
grow-sideburns
Can I get a yikes for the Oksana Kadel? And nobody is losing weight at the Cheesecake Factory.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Things I Didn't Know I Could Do
Or thing I guess.
Today I fixed a computerized loom. A year ago I had never even seen a loom, 6 Months ago I didn't know a computerized version existed, and until today I had no idea that I could fix one.
So if any of you happen to break your loom, let me know. I have very reasonable rates.
Or thing I guess.
Today I fixed a computerized loom. A year ago I had never even seen a loom, 6 Months ago I didn't know a computerized version existed, and until today I had no idea that I could fix one.
So if any of you happen to break your loom, let me know. I have very reasonable rates.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Joy of (not) Dating
I've gotten two emails just recently from my Yahoo Personals page. The first one I feel like I should write to, but my coming month and a half is just going to be retardedly busy. So I haven't yet.
The second one wrote me the following email:
Hello,
My name - Oksana.
Me of 25 years. I liked your structure on a site and I at once have decided to write to you the letter.
I very much liked yours the image and in the following letter I shall send you the image, I hope, that I liking to you also
am strong, as you to me!!!
With impatience I shall wait for your letter!!!!
Please write the letters on mine e-mail: [her email address]
Sincerely Oksana.
Is there such a thing as Personals spam? If there is I think this is it. I don't think I'm going to write to her.
I've gotten two emails just recently from my Yahoo Personals page. The first one I feel like I should write to, but my coming month and a half is just going to be retardedly busy. So I haven't yet.
The second one wrote me the following email:
Hello,
My name - Oksana.
Me of 25 years. I liked your structure on a site and I at once have decided to write to you the letter.
I very much liked yours the image and in the following letter I shall send you the image, I hope, that I liking to you also
am strong, as you to me!!!
With impatience I shall wait for your letter!!!!
Please write the letters on mine e-mail: [her email address]
Sincerely Oksana.
Is there such a thing as Personals spam? If there is I think this is it. I don't think I'm going to write to her.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
No Sleep. Bum Bum. 'Til Bedtime.
When I've come to end of my conscious rope and I'm contemplating going to bed and leaving my laundry in the drier all night like a bad neighbor might (104, 204, I'm looking at you,) I remembered 2 things: 1) To be kind and considerate to one's neighbors begets good karma which will one day reward me with a lifetime supply of cinnamon bears, and 2) my pillowcases are in that load.
Next week... more weird dwelling opportunities.
When I've come to end of my conscious rope and I'm contemplating going to bed and leaving my laundry in the drier all night like a bad neighbor might (104, 204, I'm looking at you,) I remembered 2 things: 1) To be kind and considerate to one's neighbors begets good karma which will one day reward me with a lifetime supply of cinnamon bears, and 2) my pillowcases are in that load.
Next week... more weird dwelling opportunities.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Time for a New Place
I think we've used up our apartment. First time commenters, long time readers will know I accidentally put my hand through the bathroom tile in my shower not too long ago. There have been other things: A broken burner (which I fixed by scavenging parts from another oven downstairs), a loose toilet seat (which I fixed by getting parts from the hardware store after a replacement of our toilet via the landlord yielded the same loose seat and a low flow flush), and a clogged drain in the fire-escape landing (which I subverted by making a siphon which led into the drain in the garage.) My landlord eventually fixed the fire-escape landing drain, but not for weeks.
Now, a little more than a month before we'll be gone, our poor little bathroom fan has died. For a year or two it has been making loud rattley, growly noises. Imagine sitting on the toilet, reading a book, inside the exhaust system of an accelerating semi. Then, two days ago it started making chirping noises and taking time to get up to speed. Finally, last night I flipped both bathroom switches and sat on the toilet. It slowly occurred to me that the bathroom was awfully quiet apart from a curious hum. I have to say that a hum is much better than its usual noise, but I was kind of partial to the fan's ventilation efforts.
We shall miss you apartment. You kept us dry and not as cold as we would have been living in a box.
I think we've used up our apartment. First time commenters, long time readers will know I accidentally put my hand through the bathroom tile in my shower not too long ago. There have been other things: A broken burner (which I fixed by scavenging parts from another oven downstairs), a loose toilet seat (which I fixed by getting parts from the hardware store after a replacement of our toilet via the landlord yielded the same loose seat and a low flow flush), and a clogged drain in the fire-escape landing (which I subverted by making a siphon which led into the drain in the garage.) My landlord eventually fixed the fire-escape landing drain, but not for weeks.
Now, a little more than a month before we'll be gone, our poor little bathroom fan has died. For a year or two it has been making loud rattley, growly noises. Imagine sitting on the toilet, reading a book, inside the exhaust system of an accelerating semi. Then, two days ago it started making chirping noises and taking time to get up to speed. Finally, last night I flipped both bathroom switches and sat on the toilet. It slowly occurred to me that the bathroom was awfully quiet apart from a curious hum. I have to say that a hum is much better than its usual noise, but I was kind of partial to the fan's ventilation efforts.
We shall miss you apartment. You kept us dry and not as cold as we would have been living in a box.
Pub Quiz Update:
A terrible showing. We started out strong and ended with a thud. In the announcement of places we came in 5th, but there were 2 teams tied for 3rd which means we were actually 6th. Ouch. And apparently nobody thought our team name, Unit for Rent, was funny but us. Dawson's Creek is Risky Business finished first. I disapprove of their team name.
A terrible showing. We started out strong and ended with a thud. In the announcement of places we came in 5th, but there were 2 teams tied for 3rd which means we were actually 6th. Ouch. And apparently nobody thought our team name, Unit for Rent, was funny but us. Dawson's Creek is Risky Business finished first. I disapprove of their team name.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Anyone Flying Soon?
And if so, are you flying Southwest? And if so, do you buy drinks on the flight? And if so, would you like to do so with coupons? And is so, would you like to buy them with my coupons?
All this is to say I'm selling some on eBay.
And if so, are you flying Southwest? And if so, do you buy drinks on the flight? And if so, would you like to do so with coupons? And is so, would you like to buy them with my coupons?
All this is to say I'm selling some on eBay.
Blatant
I was reading in Newsweek about the influx of gay-themed books to bookstores. As a for instance, there's one about these two male penguins who hatched a baby penguin which was apparently based on a true story. But my favorite title of one such book, a title that just screams its subject matter to me is "You're Different and That's Super." I don't often laugh out loud at Newsweek, but that made me do it.
Where to Live?
I'm looking for apartments here in the lovely and cost effective Bay Area. I've discovered that no matter what I do, I'll probably have to get rid of somewhere between quite a bit and all of my stuff. I looked at one apartment on Saturday which would have amounted to living in a box with a gourmet kitchen attached. That one was $700 and included all utilities. I looked at a much nicer one in San Rafael this afternoon which was $780, much bigger, had a me-sized kitchen, but included no utilities, which I think might kill me. Then again, it reduces my commute to 5 minutes down from a respectable 45. I'm not sure I like this apartment hunting thing. And I'm positive I don't like the moving thing. What I really need is for someone to not live in my current place and pay the other half of the rent and utilities. Does anybody know of any well-to-do non-existent roommates?
I'm also amazed at the number of truly strange places available. I've seen 2 listings of 2 bedroom apartments with no kitchens. One of them was also furnished. There are quite a few others which are basically dorms: Rooms which allow NO COOKING and share a bathroom with 8 other rooms. Eww.
I have high hopes for one that I'm going to see on Saturday which includes everything but the phone line, has a bedroom and a living room/kitchen thingy, and is $850 a month. People who don't live in New York will think I'm nuts, but $850 a month for a real live one bedroom is fairly cheap, especially one with all those included utilities. The catch, of course, is that according to the picture on the ad, you have to exit the apartment to use the bathroom. However, I think it's a private bathroom, so I don't mind communing with nature a bit when nature calls. I figure it's only fair.
I was reading in Newsweek about the influx of gay-themed books to bookstores. As a for instance, there's one about these two male penguins who hatched a baby penguin which was apparently based on a true story. But my favorite title of one such book, a title that just screams its subject matter to me is "You're Different and That's Super." I don't often laugh out loud at Newsweek, but that made me do it.
Where to Live?
I'm looking for apartments here in the lovely and cost effective Bay Area. I've discovered that no matter what I do, I'll probably have to get rid of somewhere between quite a bit and all of my stuff. I looked at one apartment on Saturday which would have amounted to living in a box with a gourmet kitchen attached. That one was $700 and included all utilities. I looked at a much nicer one in San Rafael this afternoon which was $780, much bigger, had a me-sized kitchen, but included no utilities, which I think might kill me. Then again, it reduces my commute to 5 minutes down from a respectable 45. I'm not sure I like this apartment hunting thing. And I'm positive I don't like the moving thing. What I really need is for someone to not live in my current place and pay the other half of the rent and utilities. Does anybody know of any well-to-do non-existent roommates?
I'm also amazed at the number of truly strange places available. I've seen 2 listings of 2 bedroom apartments with no kitchens. One of them was also furnished. There are quite a few others which are basically dorms: Rooms which allow NO COOKING and share a bathroom with 8 other rooms. Eww.
I have high hopes for one that I'm going to see on Saturday which includes everything but the phone line, has a bedroom and a living room/kitchen thingy, and is $850 a month. People who don't live in New York will think I'm nuts, but $850 a month for a real live one bedroom is fairly cheap, especially one with all those included utilities. The catch, of course, is that according to the picture on the ad, you have to exit the apartment to use the bathroom. However, I think it's a private bathroom, so I don't mind communing with nature a bit when nature calls. I figure it's only fair.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Leftovers and Piracy
I realized this morning that the red blotches on the crosswalk in the caged-kid picture are bug leftovers on my windshield. I guess the key to good in-van photography is keeping the vehicle clean.
And the secret to good song writing is to be original. I was trying to do so today, and it was going pretty well. I liked the verse, and the chorus was supper catchy, but oddly familiar. It took me a while, but I finally figured out that I had come up with the melody and chords from the chorus of Strawberry Fields. No wonder it was catchy. I hate then that happens. I once wrote Sweet Home Alabama too, but I get more satisfaction from accidentally ripping off the Beatles than accidentally ripping off Lynyrd Skynyrd.
I realized this morning that the red blotches on the crosswalk in the caged-kid picture are bug leftovers on my windshield. I guess the key to good in-van photography is keeping the vehicle clean.
And the secret to good song writing is to be original. I was trying to do so today, and it was going pretty well. I liked the verse, and the chorus was supper catchy, but oddly familiar. It took me a while, but I finally figured out that I had come up with the melody and chords from the chorus of Strawberry Fields. No wonder it was catchy. I hate then that happens. I once wrote Sweet Home Alabama too, but I get more satisfaction from accidentally ripping off the Beatles than accidentally ripping off Lynyrd Skynyrd.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Life Imitates "Art"
As I was walking back to my van in Santa Rosa today, I saw one of those cheesy rabbit sculptures next to a trash can. As I was walking past we scared the bejesus out of each other as I jumped off the path and it bounced off under somebody's gate. I thought it was sculpture, I don't know what excuse the rabbit had for not moving sooner. I'm obviously a real boy.
As I was walking back to my van in Santa Rosa today, I saw one of those cheesy rabbit sculptures next to a trash can. As I was walking past we scared the bejesus out of each other as I jumped off the path and it bounced off under somebody's gate. I thought it was sculpture, I don't know what excuse the rabbit had for not moving sooner. I'm obviously a real boy.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Picture Page it's Picture Page
Did anyone else watch that show?
Because I've noticed several apartment for rent signs on Lincoln Street in San Rafael, but have been unable to slow down to write down the phone numbers, I took my camera to work today. As a result I've discovered that the apartments on Lincoln are too expensive, and that I need to charge my battery before setting out to take pictures.
Luckily I had enough juice to take a picture of the Too Crazy Ladies caravan on 101N. I'm sure their title is meant to be cute and all double meaningy, but I want them to pick one meaning and stick to it. I guess they are on their way to Santa Rosa to set up at the fairgrounds in time for the dog show. Yep, it was more than I wanted to know also.
And since I'm posting pictures, here's one of a button I'm making for a friend. He has a shirt whose button hole has gotten far too big for his regular sized button. So, because he needs an extra large button, and because his shirt says "Two Bits," I figured a quarter would be just right.
It's much harder than I thought it would be to drill holes in a quarter.
You may not have wanted to see any of these pictures, but count your lucky stars that my camera had already run out of battery power when I saw the elephantine, and disturbingly giggly, woman walking her itty bitty dog. Picture the Jolly Green Giant walking a mouse, except put the giant in a gargantuan tie-dyed dress, make him a woman, and make the mouse a miniature dachshund.
Did anyone else watch that show?
Because I've noticed several apartment for rent signs on Lincoln Street in San Rafael, but have been unable to slow down to write down the phone numbers, I took my camera to work today. As a result I've discovered that the apartments on Lincoln are too expensive, and that I need to charge my battery before setting out to take pictures.
Luckily I had enough juice to take a picture of the Too Crazy Ladies caravan on 101N. I'm sure their title is meant to be cute and all double meaningy, but I want them to pick one meaning and stick to it. I guess they are on their way to Santa Rosa to set up at the fairgrounds in time for the dog show. Yep, it was more than I wanted to know also.
And since I'm posting pictures, here's one of a button I'm making for a friend. He has a shirt whose button hole has gotten far too big for his regular sized button. So, because he needs an extra large button, and because his shirt says "Two Bits," I figured a quarter would be just right.
It's much harder than I thought it would be to drill holes in a quarter.
You may not have wanted to see any of these pictures, but count your lucky stars that my camera had already run out of battery power when I saw the elephantine, and disturbingly giggly, woman walking her itty bitty dog. Picture the Jolly Green Giant walking a mouse, except put the giant in a gargantuan tie-dyed dress, make him a woman, and make the mouse a miniature dachshund.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
1 Thing
My most recent batch of laundry has made it abundantly obvious that I either a) put too many clothes in the washer at a time so they can't move around much, or b) my socks have an unnatural attachment to their mates. One way or the other, my various pairs of socks stay very close to each other when I'm fishing them out of the basket, post dryer.
Despite all the anecdotal sock-disappearing evidence, over the course of almost 4 years of living in my apartment, I've only lost 1 sock, and then only for the span of about 6 months.
The sock's mate sat, alone, on the head of a stuffed seal on my dresser patiently waiting for its missing mate to return. And eventually, without warning or any great epiphany, it did.
I have no idea why it or how it managed to return, but it did, and now I have a drawer full of pairs and a dresser topped with hatless animals.
When I write about socks do you assume (rightly) that it was a slow news day? Has the admission that I have stuffed animals on my dresser caused you to think my previous description of myself as a butch lesbian was perhaps overly masculine?
My most recent batch of laundry has made it abundantly obvious that I either a) put too many clothes in the washer at a time so they can't move around much, or b) my socks have an unnatural attachment to their mates. One way or the other, my various pairs of socks stay very close to each other when I'm fishing them out of the basket, post dryer.
Despite all the anecdotal sock-disappearing evidence, over the course of almost 4 years of living in my apartment, I've only lost 1 sock, and then only for the span of about 6 months.
The sock's mate sat, alone, on the head of a stuffed seal on my dresser patiently waiting for its missing mate to return. And eventually, without warning or any great epiphany, it did.
I have no idea why it or how it managed to return, but it did, and now I have a drawer full of pairs and a dresser topped with hatless animals.
When I write about socks do you assume (rightly) that it was a slow news day? Has the admission that I have stuffed animals on my dresser caused you to think my previous description of myself as a butch lesbian was perhaps overly masculine?
Pub Quiz Update
After a strong start, we began to spiral miserably toward 6th place out of maybe 8 teams. Luckily, 7th and 8th place were doing so dismally that the only way we could have fallen behind them is if we had quit all together.
But right at the brink of failure and despair we arrived at round 7, last call for know-it-alls, where every question is worth 2 points. We answered those questions with a vengeance, including one inspired bout of guessing where we decided that in 1978 Marlin Brando got paid more for his small cameo in Superman than Christopher Reeve got for the staring role. With that round in the bag we jumped up to 3rd place and one best team name with our date themed "Cinco de Mayans."
After a strong start, we began to spiral miserably toward 6th place out of maybe 8 teams. Luckily, 7th and 8th place were doing so dismally that the only way we could have fallen behind them is if we had quit all together.
But right at the brink of failure and despair we arrived at round 7, last call for know-it-alls, where every question is worth 2 points. We answered those questions with a vengeance, including one inspired bout of guessing where we decided that in 1978 Marlin Brando got paid more for his small cameo in Superman than Christopher Reeve got for the staring role. With that round in the bag we jumped up to 3rd place and one best team name with our date themed "Cinco de Mayans."
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
2 Things That Made Me Happy
1) I saw a taxi being pulled over by a cop on Sunday. Taxis aren't so much interested in giving people rides as they are in having people in their back seats for company as they try to run me down. These incidents have fortuitously been restricted to times when I'm in my car or van, but even surrounded by sheet metal I would prefer they keep to themselves and not try to drive through me. It therefore makes me happy when I see one get caught for some incident of asshattery.
2) I watched a couple walk a Chihuahua across a crosswalk on Gough yesterday. About halfway across, the dog was struck with the undeniable urge to poop. He started to squat, but since it was a crosswalk on Gough at rush hour, so his owners weren't inclined to wait. As a compromise the dog pooped with his back legs in the standard squat position, but held up off the pavement, while he walked/bounced across the crosswalk on his front legs.
I herby bestow the title of "World's Most Talented Pooper" to that dog. If only I knew his name so I could give him the tiara that goes with the title.
1) I saw a taxi being pulled over by a cop on Sunday. Taxis aren't so much interested in giving people rides as they are in having people in their back seats for company as they try to run me down. These incidents have fortuitously been restricted to times when I'm in my car or van, but even surrounded by sheet metal I would prefer they keep to themselves and not try to drive through me. It therefore makes me happy when I see one get caught for some incident of asshattery.
2) I watched a couple walk a Chihuahua across a crosswalk on Gough yesterday. About halfway across, the dog was struck with the undeniable urge to poop. He started to squat, but since it was a crosswalk on Gough at rush hour, so his owners weren't inclined to wait. As a compromise the dog pooped with his back legs in the standard squat position, but held up off the pavement, while he walked/bounced across the crosswalk on his front legs.
I herby bestow the title of "World's Most Talented Pooper" to that dog. If only I knew his name so I could give him the tiara that goes with the title.
Monday, May 02, 2005
3 Things
(Including the blog equivalent of a forward)
First off, I've been nominated, or tagged, or forced because of my craving for Cate attention to write a MEME. After that I'll get to what I sat down to post about in the first place. So here it goes:
If I could be a doctor… I would change my name to Claw and find a nemesis named Gadget.
If I could be a missionary… I'd probably get fired for not meeting my quota. Either that or I would constantly be harassing myself to read the bible. Man that would be annoying.
If I could be a librarian… I would have a Masters Degree in Library and Information Studies (MLS/MLIS) from a college or university accredited by the American Library Association. When I was unemployed I applied for EVERYTHING.
If I could be a bonnie pirate… I would apparently go and pillage all the bonnies. What's a bonnie?
If I could be married to any current famous political figure… I would probably live in an apartment with heat.
Ok, so now I guess I have to tag 3 people. Let's say Peter, Brandon, and Amy, all of whom haven't posted anything in more than 15 days.
Ok, now on to more stuff nobody wants to read.
Here's a word of advice in case you ever find yourself in this situation: Sliding a huge plastic mattress bag over a vinyl bottomed mattress produces static electricity. I was well aware of this fact, but today I learned that I should be more careful when unsheathing a mattress. Today, whilst debagging an AirCell, the first part of my body to get close to a grounding bedrail was my crotch. If somebody had been standing behind me I would have assed them into the next room.
Also, a second word of advice: Don't let your dog poop near the parking place of a guy with a large and readily available supply of rubber gloves. Especially not when he's been trying to write a post while your dog's barking approaches the frequency of squeaky toys.
(Including the blog equivalent of a forward)
First off, I've been nominated, or tagged, or forced because of my craving for Cate attention to write a MEME. After that I'll get to what I sat down to post about in the first place. So here it goes:
If I could be a doctor… I would change my name to Claw and find a nemesis named Gadget.
If I could be a missionary… I'd probably get fired for not meeting my quota. Either that or I would constantly be harassing myself to read the bible. Man that would be annoying.
If I could be a librarian… I would have a Masters Degree in Library and Information Studies (MLS/MLIS) from a college or university accredited by the American Library Association. When I was unemployed I applied for EVERYTHING.
If I could be a bonnie pirate… I would apparently go and pillage all the bonnies. What's a bonnie?
If I could be married to any current famous political figure… I would probably live in an apartment with heat.
Ok, so now I guess I have to tag 3 people. Let's say Peter, Brandon, and Amy, all of whom haven't posted anything in more than 15 days.
Ok, now on to more stuff nobody wants to read.
Here's a word of advice in case you ever find yourself in this situation: Sliding a huge plastic mattress bag over a vinyl bottomed mattress produces static electricity. I was well aware of this fact, but today I learned that I should be more careful when unsheathing a mattress. Today, whilst debagging an AirCell, the first part of my body to get close to a grounding bedrail was my crotch. If somebody had been standing behind me I would have assed them into the next room.
Also, a second word of advice: Don't let your dog poop near the parking place of a guy with a large and readily available supply of rubber gloves. Especially not when he's been trying to write a post while your dog's barking approaches the frequency of squeaky toys.
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