We'll Call You
I have a phone interview today to be a webcast technician. I got an email Friday saying that they would call me sometime between 12pm and 4pm. It's like I'm being interviewed by a cable company.
Monday, July 19, 2004
Three Sheets to the Wind
I finally changed my sheets tonight. That sounds kind of gross, which is accurate. I don't wash my sheets very often. However, tonight I mean that I swapped my flannel sheets for some regular cotton ones.
It was hot here today, and remains both hot and smoky in my room. (The smoke is from Piranha Man, his open window, and the fact that the wind blows from his apartment into mine.) Being as hot as it was, I decided that since I was washing my sheets anyway, maybe I should try the cotton ones on my bed. I guess I survived 4 years at Davis with flannel sheets, and people there regularly burst into flame in the summer time. Then again, why just survive when there's the option of luxuriating in the cool crisp cotton sheets of summer. And that is what I'm going to do. So there. Try and stop me.
(Some reading this may know that I suck something fierce at spelling. To those, it is interesting to note that I managed to spell luxuriating correctly without the aid of my trusty spell check. However my flannel sheets contained just one N.)
I finally changed my sheets tonight. That sounds kind of gross, which is accurate. I don't wash my sheets very often. However, tonight I mean that I swapped my flannel sheets for some regular cotton ones.
It was hot here today, and remains both hot and smoky in my room. (The smoke is from Piranha Man, his open window, and the fact that the wind blows from his apartment into mine.) Being as hot as it was, I decided that since I was washing my sheets anyway, maybe I should try the cotton ones on my bed. I guess I survived 4 years at Davis with flannel sheets, and people there regularly burst into flame in the summer time. Then again, why just survive when there's the option of luxuriating in the cool crisp cotton sheets of summer. And that is what I'm going to do. So there. Try and stop me.
(Some reading this may know that I suck something fierce at spelling. To those, it is interesting to note that I managed to spell luxuriating correctly without the aid of my trusty spell check. However my flannel sheets contained just one N.)
Saturday, July 17, 2004
Awake
It's Saturday, and I've been awake since 9am. To a lot of people that's normal, but I've been known to sleep until noon and beyond. And It's not like I went to bed early. I went to sleep at around 3am.
The problem is that I keep having Kristin related dreams. Some with her in them, some with someone like her. Some are good, some are bad. Either way I wake up feeling depressed about it.
Sometimes it's hard to tell what my subconscious is telling me. I've had dreams where Puddy from Seinfeld tells me that "these guns are fuzzy like underwear. If these are the only weapons we have to work with, we're in for trouble." Who knows what that means? I think in this case it's pretty straight forward: I miss her.
It's Saturday, and I've been awake since 9am. To a lot of people that's normal, but I've been known to sleep until noon and beyond. And It's not like I went to bed early. I went to sleep at around 3am.
The problem is that I keep having Kristin related dreams. Some with her in them, some with someone like her. Some are good, some are bad. Either way I wake up feeling depressed about it.
Sometimes it's hard to tell what my subconscious is telling me. I've had dreams where Puddy from Seinfeld tells me that "these guns are fuzzy like underwear. If these are the only weapons we have to work with, we're in for trouble." Who knows what that means? I think in this case it's pretty straight forward: I miss her.
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
Driving a Van
I remember saying a while back, when I had just lost my first (and best) metalworking job, that perhaps one can't have a job, band, and girlfriend all at the same time. I went along not having a job but having a girlfriend from January until this month. And now all of a sudden, no girlfriend and the jobs start rolling in. I had a phone interview today, and I should have a real interview by the end of the week, or perhaps by the beginning of next. So I'll either get this job, or start dating someone. I'm always up for a date, but the job will give me insurance. So if I get a choice, I'll choose the job.
The job is driving medical equipment around the Bay Area. I guess I get various equipment, put it in the van, and hang out until they want some of it someplace. So I drive there, tell them how to use it, and then hang out some more until someone wants something else, or until someone wants me to pick something up. If I get low on equipment or full of used equipment, I drive back to the office and swap stuff out. I think it will work out well. I like driving, I don't mind traffic, and I want both money and benefits. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
I remember saying a while back, when I had just lost my first (and best) metalworking job, that perhaps one can't have a job, band, and girlfriend all at the same time. I went along not having a job but having a girlfriend from January until this month. And now all of a sudden, no girlfriend and the jobs start rolling in. I had a phone interview today, and I should have a real interview by the end of the week, or perhaps by the beginning of next. So I'll either get this job, or start dating someone. I'm always up for a date, but the job will give me insurance. So if I get a choice, I'll choose the job.
The job is driving medical equipment around the Bay Area. I guess I get various equipment, put it in the van, and hang out until they want some of it someplace. So I drive there, tell them how to use it, and then hang out some more until someone wants something else, or until someone wants me to pick something up. If I get low on equipment or full of used equipment, I drive back to the office and swap stuff out. I think it will work out well. I like driving, I don't mind traffic, and I want both money and benefits. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Bike of Death
Today I decided I would try to take my bike for a ride. I was sort of surprised I was able to get the locks off, since I hadn't unlocked the thing for probably 2 years.
I think it needs some repairs. Both the front and rear wheels aren't very true. I know what happened to the front wheel: I ran head-on into an idiot who wasn't looking where he was going and swerved in front of me. We ran into each other front wheel to front wheel. Being roughly the same mass and traveling and roughly the same speed, we both went over our handlebars, and collided helmet to helmet in the air, then crashed down into a big heap on our bikes. I was late for a math test, so I wobbled off toward class and the other guy wobbled off toward the dorms. Ever since then, my front wheel has a noticeable side-to-side wobble.
So the front wheel was maimed in 1999. I have no idea what happened to the back wheel, but it doesn't ago around well either. It's as if it's partially flat on one side, and then has the side-to-side wobble as well. Front and back wobbles make stopping exciting, because when the wobbly bit gets to the brake pads, the brakes grab extra hard. In addition, the back wheel is made of steel, and is therefore all rusty and makes a terrible honking noise when I try to stop. With the front wobble, the back wobble, and the rust-on-brake pad noise, it sounds like I'm tying to ride a tortured, but oddly rhythmic, dying goose.
I also don't have a helmet. I wonder how much it would cost for a helmet and goose-to-bike conversion.
Today I decided I would try to take my bike for a ride. I was sort of surprised I was able to get the locks off, since I hadn't unlocked the thing for probably 2 years.
I think it needs some repairs. Both the front and rear wheels aren't very true. I know what happened to the front wheel: I ran head-on into an idiot who wasn't looking where he was going and swerved in front of me. We ran into each other front wheel to front wheel. Being roughly the same mass and traveling and roughly the same speed, we both went over our handlebars, and collided helmet to helmet in the air, then crashed down into a big heap on our bikes. I was late for a math test, so I wobbled off toward class and the other guy wobbled off toward the dorms. Ever since then, my front wheel has a noticeable side-to-side wobble.
So the front wheel was maimed in 1999. I have no idea what happened to the back wheel, but it doesn't ago around well either. It's as if it's partially flat on one side, and then has the side-to-side wobble as well. Front and back wobbles make stopping exciting, because when the wobbly bit gets to the brake pads, the brakes grab extra hard. In addition, the back wheel is made of steel, and is therefore all rusty and makes a terrible honking noise when I try to stop. With the front wobble, the back wobble, and the rust-on-brake pad noise, it sounds like I'm tying to ride a tortured, but oddly rhythmic, dying goose.
I also don't have a helmet. I wonder how much it would cost for a helmet and goose-to-bike conversion.
Friday, July 09, 2004
Better Days
Today was a much better day. I didn't have to deal with work. (Apart from a sparse 10 minutes where I just pointed out the locations of the various software CDs.) I also had band practice, which is always fun. (We are sounding much better, and our new drummer is learning the songs well. Maybe one day we'll have a show.) And the coup de gras, I found a beagle in my garage.
I went down to the garage to see if my bike was a huge pile of rust, and if spraying WD-40 over everything but the brakes would fix it, and I heard howling. I opened the door and a little beagle came trotting over to me howling away in her harness, sans leash. I hadn't previously seen a beagle in my building, so I took her up to my apartment and fashioned a leash out of a belt and carabineer so I could walk her up the street and see if anyone recognized her. No one did. So then I asked around in my building. Also no luck. At this point I did what I should have done in the first place, which is look at her collar and call the chip-tag phone number. I did, and the owner promptly came and got her. She was fun while she lasted.
I do enjoy fuzzy things in my apartment. I miss having a pet. I miss Babe the Beagle.
Today was a much better day. I didn't have to deal with work. (Apart from a sparse 10 minutes where I just pointed out the locations of the various software CDs.) I also had band practice, which is always fun. (We are sounding much better, and our new drummer is learning the songs well. Maybe one day we'll have a show.) And the coup de gras, I found a beagle in my garage.
I went down to the garage to see if my bike was a huge pile of rust, and if spraying WD-40 over everything but the brakes would fix it, and I heard howling. I opened the door and a little beagle came trotting over to me howling away in her harness, sans leash. I hadn't previously seen a beagle in my building, so I took her up to my apartment and fashioned a leash out of a belt and carabineer so I could walk her up the street and see if anyone recognized her. No one did. So then I asked around in my building. Also no luck. At this point I did what I should have done in the first place, which is look at her collar and call the chip-tag phone number. I did, and the owner promptly came and got her. She was fun while she lasted.
I do enjoy fuzzy things in my apartment. I miss having a pet. I miss Babe the Beagle.
Thursday, July 08, 2004
Totally Week You Guys
What a terrible week. There's the relationship thing, and then there's the work thing. Since I already explained the relationship thing, in this post I'll explain how and why I started and ended a job this week.
My first issue was with some computers I built. I feel comfortable saying that I'm pretty good with computers. I guess the four computers I was working with weren't comfortable with me saying that. They hated me and refused to cooperate. When I finally got them to (mostly) cooperate, I had to move each computer to several different locations, set it up, shut it down, and move it again. I wonder if I was on candid camera.
My next issue was the boss-employee relations. The boss is aggressive, intimidating, and very matter of fact. He makes me feel uncomfortable, unintelligent, and his constant indoor smoking gives me a headache. He likes to give job assignments like cleaning up the desk when the desk is covered with his personal paperwork. I don't know where any of that stuff goes.
Then there was the lamp. I hate this lamp. It's cursed, or maybe I'm cursed. It's this fluorescent desk lamp with a magnifying glass in the middle. It didn't turn on when he set me to fixing it, and it doesn't turn on now that it's my last day. There are only so many pieces in a lamp, and I replaced and/or tested all of them. It just refuses to function. But apparently it's not going in trash because the boss once pulled a steel splinter out of somebody's eye with it. He’s sentimental.
The final straw was the alarm. Today I went to lunch, and when I got back I was to continue painting my desk white. On my way to lunch, boss man said that we would be out getting some stuff, and that I was to unlock the door and turn off the alarm with the code: 45 45 45. So when I came back from lunch, I opened the door, and typed in 45 45 45. Keeps beeping. 45 45 45. Still beeping. Why isn't it stopping? 45! 45! 45! Now the siren is going off. Sirens are LOUD. PAINFULLY LOUD! 45454545454545!!!! Cancel. Motion off. None of these buttons do anything! So I sat in my car, outside and away from the siren, until the landlord came by, and tried to turn off the alarm. He couldn't do it either. So I sat in my car some more, until the boss came back, and told me the code was 45 45. He punches in the code. Nothing happens. Again, nothing happens. So he rips the siren off the wall. Ah, why did I think of that? Why wouldn't it turn off when he typed in the right code? Why did he tell me an extra 45?
Most importantly, why did all this happen this week? I wonder if my arm will fall off or my car will explode tomorrow. I think this week needs a capper. Maybe I'll get a steel splinter in my eye.
What a terrible week. There's the relationship thing, and then there's the work thing. Since I already explained the relationship thing, in this post I'll explain how and why I started and ended a job this week.
My first issue was with some computers I built. I feel comfortable saying that I'm pretty good with computers. I guess the four computers I was working with weren't comfortable with me saying that. They hated me and refused to cooperate. When I finally got them to (mostly) cooperate, I had to move each computer to several different locations, set it up, shut it down, and move it again. I wonder if I was on candid camera.
My next issue was the boss-employee relations. The boss is aggressive, intimidating, and very matter of fact. He makes me feel uncomfortable, unintelligent, and his constant indoor smoking gives me a headache. He likes to give job assignments like cleaning up the desk when the desk is covered with his personal paperwork. I don't know where any of that stuff goes.
Then there was the lamp. I hate this lamp. It's cursed, or maybe I'm cursed. It's this fluorescent desk lamp with a magnifying glass in the middle. It didn't turn on when he set me to fixing it, and it doesn't turn on now that it's my last day. There are only so many pieces in a lamp, and I replaced and/or tested all of them. It just refuses to function. But apparently it's not going in trash because the boss once pulled a steel splinter out of somebody's eye with it. He’s sentimental.
The final straw was the alarm. Today I went to lunch, and when I got back I was to continue painting my desk white. On my way to lunch, boss man said that we would be out getting some stuff, and that I was to unlock the door and turn off the alarm with the code: 45 45 45. So when I came back from lunch, I opened the door, and typed in 45 45 45. Keeps beeping. 45 45 45. Still beeping. Why isn't it stopping? 45! 45! 45! Now the siren is going off. Sirens are LOUD. PAINFULLY LOUD! 45454545454545!!!! Cancel. Motion off. None of these buttons do anything! So I sat in my car, outside and away from the siren, until the landlord came by, and tried to turn off the alarm. He couldn't do it either. So I sat in my car some more, until the boss came back, and told me the code was 45 45. He punches in the code. Nothing happens. Again, nothing happens. So he rips the siren off the wall. Ah, why did I think of that? Why wouldn't it turn off when he typed in the right code? Why did he tell me an extra 45?
Most importantly, why did all this happen this week? I wonder if my arm will fall off or my car will explode tomorrow. I think this week needs a capper. Maybe I'll get a steel splinter in my eye.
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
No Sleep. Bum. 'Till Breakfast. Bum Bum.
I hate getting broken up with. Not that I’ve had that much experience. Ok, this is the first time it's ever happened. But with my new found experience I can safely say that I hate being broken up with.
The first stage is worrying that something is wrong. Why isn't she being affectionate? Why does she say that she wants to be "alone" but still hangs out with her friends? Where did the I-love-you's go?
Stage two is worrying that something is up. “I think she may break up with me. That would explain the weirdness. I think I won't sleep for two days.”
Stage three sucks. Stage three is when I get an email that says the relationship is being reassessed, and I get it at work so I have to just think about it for 8 hours: no escape or outlet for my worries. The email ends with an "I want to talk to you when you get off work." - never a good sign.
Stage four sucks worse than stage three. It's waiting for the call. It's calling to see what happened to the call. It’s being called back because she's too busy to break up with me right now, she's hanging out with friends.
Two hours later stage 5 hits. It's pretty simple: a phone call break up.
Stage 6: Move all x-girlfriend related paraphernalia into a box in the closet.
Stage 7: More not sleeping. Being sad. Lots of sad insomnia.
I hate being broken up with.
I hate getting broken up with. Not that I’ve had that much experience. Ok, this is the first time it's ever happened. But with my new found experience I can safely say that I hate being broken up with.
The first stage is worrying that something is wrong. Why isn't she being affectionate? Why does she say that she wants to be "alone" but still hangs out with her friends? Where did the I-love-you's go?
Stage two is worrying that something is up. “I think she may break up with me. That would explain the weirdness. I think I won't sleep for two days.”
Stage three sucks. Stage three is when I get an email that says the relationship is being reassessed, and I get it at work so I have to just think about it for 8 hours: no escape or outlet for my worries. The email ends with an "I want to talk to you when you get off work." - never a good sign.
Stage four sucks worse than stage three. It's waiting for the call. It's calling to see what happened to the call. It’s being called back because she's too busy to break up with me right now, she's hanging out with friends.
Two hours later stage 5 hits. It's pretty simple: a phone call break up.
Stage 6: Move all x-girlfriend related paraphernalia into a box in the closet.
Stage 7: More not sleeping. Being sad. Lots of sad insomnia.
I hate being broken up with.
Monday, July 05, 2004
Boom!
Yesterday was a cold, cloudy, and windy 4th of July. This is not to say that it wasn't fun, it's just to say that it was cold and not very fireworky.
A bunch of us went down to the Marina to sit on the grass and watch the fireworks, which were to be launched about a mile down the shore. Our first problem was that we got there at 7:30ish, and the fireworks started at 9ish. We had food, drink, and things to talk about, but it was a tad cloudy and the wind was picking up. So by the time 9ish came, we were all pretty cold.
When the fireworks did start, it actually took 5 or so minutes of discussion to figure out if they had actually started. It had gotten so cloudy, that the fireworks would shoot up into the air and disappear. Then sparks would come down from the clouds a few seconds later. So while I imagine people right near the launch site saw up, boom, and down, we only saw up and down. Although sometimes a big one would go up and the clouds would glow various colors.
We were not, however, totally without the boom portion of festivities. People brought some really nice high-flying big-booming fireworks from home, which they let off over the field. So those were nice, if not a little sparse. I don’t know where people got such nice fireworks, and why the 9,000,000 cops didn’t do anything about the people lighting them off.
The quote of the evening was as follows:
"Hey look! It's a pregnant guy."
"No, I think he's just Indian."
[The first part was commenting on the otherwise fairly skinny man's very protruding potbelly. The second part was someone thinking the first part was about the man's native garb, which did look slightly like maternity wear when combined with the belly.]
Yesterday was a cold, cloudy, and windy 4th of July. This is not to say that it wasn't fun, it's just to say that it was cold and not very fireworky.
A bunch of us went down to the Marina to sit on the grass and watch the fireworks, which were to be launched about a mile down the shore. Our first problem was that we got there at 7:30ish, and the fireworks started at 9ish. We had food, drink, and things to talk about, but it was a tad cloudy and the wind was picking up. So by the time 9ish came, we were all pretty cold.
When the fireworks did start, it actually took 5 or so minutes of discussion to figure out if they had actually started. It had gotten so cloudy, that the fireworks would shoot up into the air and disappear. Then sparks would come down from the clouds a few seconds later. So while I imagine people right near the launch site saw up, boom, and down, we only saw up and down. Although sometimes a big one would go up and the clouds would glow various colors.
We were not, however, totally without the boom portion of festivities. People brought some really nice high-flying big-booming fireworks from home, which they let off over the field. So those were nice, if not a little sparse. I don’t know where people got such nice fireworks, and why the 9,000,000 cops didn’t do anything about the people lighting them off.
The quote of the evening was as follows:
"Hey look! It's a pregnant guy."
"No, I think he's just Indian."
[The first part was commenting on the otherwise fairly skinny man's very protruding potbelly. The second part was someone thinking the first part was about the man's native garb, which did look slightly like maternity wear when combined with the belly.]
Thursday, July 01, 2004
Job?
I may have gotten a job. It may be in a metal shop, and I may be the only employee.
I met this guy via the Mom Network - "the most aggressive job hunting network in the history of the world." Kristin's Mom was talking to this guy on a plane who had a metal shop in San Francisco. She said she knew me, and that I was looking for work and used to work in a metal shop. So on Tuesday I'm going to start a 2 week trial period employment thinger. It's just the owner working there now, so I will be the only employee. We have to see if we like each other, and if we do, then I will have more permanent employment.
If it works out, I will probably go to New York with him to install this door. That would be really cool, as I've never been there. However, I did get very used to reading and watching TV while the government paid me to lackadaisically look for work. I guess in the back of my mind, I knew it had to end some time. Oh well.
I may have gotten a job. It may be in a metal shop, and I may be the only employee.
I met this guy via the Mom Network - "the most aggressive job hunting network in the history of the world." Kristin's Mom was talking to this guy on a plane who had a metal shop in San Francisco. She said she knew me, and that I was looking for work and used to work in a metal shop. So on Tuesday I'm going to start a 2 week trial period employment thinger. It's just the owner working there now, so I will be the only employee. We have to see if we like each other, and if we do, then I will have more permanent employment.
If it works out, I will probably go to New York with him to install this door. That would be really cool, as I've never been there. However, I did get very used to reading and watching TV while the government paid me to lackadaisically look for work. I guess in the back of my mind, I knew it had to end some time. Oh well.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Letter Snippet
I thought in honor of Kristin being home, although still not feeling well, I would publish a small portion of one of my written-in-advance letters.
Here's part of one from Father's Day.
[Today I went to] Napa to visit the various available dads. My Dad came down for both Father’s Day and for my Grandpa’s birthday. So that was pretty fun. Both my cousins were there, as well as Sebastian, Ward and Beth’s pug. He is affectionately called Bebo. I’m not sure why he’s called Bebo, but that’s what they call him. Who am I to argue?
At dinner, a green olive (the kind with the pimento inside) fell off the table. Bebo grabbed it and ran to the middle of the living room. Ward got up to take it away from him, and for some reason, instead of just swallowing it like a normal dog would do, he held the olive in his teeth and barked at Ward to go away. His little jowls hung down around the olive tight enough so that it made an excellent seal, and when he barked he shot the pimento through the air and into Uncle Ed’s wine glass. Then, knowing he was all amazinged out, Bebo swallowed the olive. These are exactly the kind of things that should happen on reality shows, but don’t.
My real Father's Day wasn't nearly as exciting as the fake one contained in my fake letter. But what can you do?
I thought in honor of Kristin being home, although still not feeling well, I would publish a small portion of one of my written-in-advance letters.
Here's part of one from Father's Day.
[Today I went to] Napa to visit the various available dads. My Dad came down for both Father’s Day and for my Grandpa’s birthday. So that was pretty fun. Both my cousins were there, as well as Sebastian, Ward and Beth’s pug. He is affectionately called Bebo. I’m not sure why he’s called Bebo, but that’s what they call him. Who am I to argue?
At dinner, a green olive (the kind with the pimento inside) fell off the table. Bebo grabbed it and ran to the middle of the living room. Ward got up to take it away from him, and for some reason, instead of just swallowing it like a normal dog would do, he held the olive in his teeth and barked at Ward to go away. His little jowls hung down around the olive tight enough so that it made an excellent seal, and when he barked he shot the pimento through the air and into Uncle Ed’s wine glass. Then, knowing he was all amazinged out, Bebo swallowed the olive. These are exactly the kind of things that should happen on reality shows, but don’t.
My real Father's Day wasn't nearly as exciting as the fake one contained in my fake letter. But what can you do?
Monday, June 28, 2004
Oddly Awake
Strangely enough, it's 4:00 AM, and I'm still very much awake. I woke up at 9:45 AM, which is much earlier than I was expecting to wake up. I didn't get to bed until 3:00 AM the night before, so I should be much more tired than I am. I also seem to have neglected to eat dinner, and breakfast. All I’ve eaten today is a 6 inch sub, 1 large drink, 1 16oz Arizona green tea, and the last few gulps of my orange pineapple guava juice. That’s it: my whole day's worth of eats.
Perhaps I'm a perpetual motion machine. Perhaps it's just a combination of having a really good band practice and being relieved that Kristin is safe at home. The world may never know because now I’m going to bed.
Strangely enough, it's 4:00 AM, and I'm still very much awake. I woke up at 9:45 AM, which is much earlier than I was expecting to wake up. I didn't get to bed until 3:00 AM the night before, so I should be much more tired than I am. I also seem to have neglected to eat dinner, and breakfast. All I’ve eaten today is a 6 inch sub, 1 large drink, 1 16oz Arizona green tea, and the last few gulps of my orange pineapple guava juice. That’s it: my whole day's worth of eats.
Perhaps I'm a perpetual motion machine. Perhaps it's just a combination of having a really good band practice and being relieved that Kristin is safe at home. The world may never know because now I’m going to bed.
Sunday, June 27, 2004
Coming Home
I don't have to worry about Kristin being sick anymore, because she's coming home. She'll be back the USA, land of the mostly microbe free drinking water and reliable medical care. I shall be much relieved when get to see her away from the vastly unpleasant El Salvador.
I tried to call her several times tonight. I got through the first time fine, but when I called back the front desk guy wouldn't patch me through. I have no idea why he wouldn't patch me through because he didn't speak English, and I don't speak Spanish. So I would slowly ask for "sitio dos diez por favor." (Thanks to Babelfish) Then he would say something very fast and full of Spanish. Then I would say, "okay por favor" and hang up. It was only after I'd called 3 times over the course of about a half hour that I realized I was saying, "okay please." After the third call, I waited an hour in hopes that the line would become un-busy, or that someone else would start answering the phone. When I did call back it was the same guy, but I got through fine. Although he almost faked me out by saying something that had the word "no" in it. He was probably telling me never to attempt Spanish again.
I don't have to worry about Kristin being sick anymore, because she's coming home. She'll be back the USA, land of the mostly microbe free drinking water and reliable medical care. I shall be much relieved when get to see her away from the vastly unpleasant El Salvador.
I tried to call her several times tonight. I got through the first time fine, but when I called back the front desk guy wouldn't patch me through. I have no idea why he wouldn't patch me through because he didn't speak English, and I don't speak Spanish. So I would slowly ask for "sitio dos diez por favor." (Thanks to Babelfish) Then he would say something very fast and full of Spanish. Then I would say, "okay por favor" and hang up. It was only after I'd called 3 times over the course of about a half hour that I realized I was saying, "okay please." After the third call, I waited an hour in hopes that the line would become un-busy, or that someone else would start answering the phone. When I did call back it was the same guy, but I got through fine. Although he almost faked me out by saying something that had the word "no" in it. He was probably telling me never to attempt Spanish again.
Saturday, June 26, 2004
A Whole Lotta Day
I'm exhausted from a mostly good, but extremely tiring day. Today I:
-Got a tentative job at a metal shop at which I may do metal work, a website, and computer construction. All shall be discussed and decided in the coming weeks. If all goes well, I'll get to go to New York to install a big metal door. I've never been there, but I would sure like to go.
-Carried big, thick sheets of glass around, set them in huge aluminum shoes, poured pour stone around them, and climbed around on some rickety-ass scaffolding. Actually, apart from the scaffolding bit, I've been doing this one all week, but today was the last day of it.
-Discovered via a phone call from her mother, that my girlfriend has an intestinal parasite and is in the hospital in El Salvador. (First she was in El Salvador, and then got the parasite. She was not flown to a hospital in El Salvador after contracting it here. That would be dumb.) So I'm worried about her despite reports that she's doing much better and will be fine.
-Went to an excellent concert where Mike Doughty’s Band headlined, and where Keaton Simons opened the show. Doughty was great, as I was sure he would be, and despite not being in my usual musical genre of choice, Keaton Simons was good as well. I shall not mention the middle band other than to say they were distinctly middling.
-Wrote a blog entry.
-Went to bed.
I'm exhausted from a mostly good, but extremely tiring day. Today I:
-Got a tentative job at a metal shop at which I may do metal work, a website, and computer construction. All shall be discussed and decided in the coming weeks. If all goes well, I'll get to go to New York to install a big metal door. I've never been there, but I would sure like to go.
-Carried big, thick sheets of glass around, set them in huge aluminum shoes, poured pour stone around them, and climbed around on some rickety-ass scaffolding. Actually, apart from the scaffolding bit, I've been doing this one all week, but today was the last day of it.
-Discovered via a phone call from her mother, that my girlfriend has an intestinal parasite and is in the hospital in El Salvador. (First she was in El Salvador, and then got the parasite. She was not flown to a hospital in El Salvador after contracting it here. That would be dumb.) So I'm worried about her despite reports that she's doing much better and will be fine.
-Went to an excellent concert where Mike Doughty’s Band headlined, and where Keaton Simons opened the show. Doughty was great, as I was sure he would be, and despite not being in my usual musical genre of choice, Keaton Simons was good as well. I shall not mention the middle band other than to say they were distinctly middling.
-Wrote a blog entry.
-Went to bed.
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
People in Cars Are Dumb
Today I saw a retarded piece of driving, inspired by a retarded bit of traffic.
As I was getting on to a very backed up freeway, there was a woman in a small white station wagon that was trying to escape the traffic jam. She had tried to drive up the embankment and onto the onramp in hopes of weaving through oncoming traffic to get back to the side roads. But in trying to do this, she had high-centered her car on the embankment, and was now sitting immobile in her car, perpendicular to everyone getting on the freeway, talking animatedly on her cell phone. Just to rub it in, a land rover effortlessly did what she what she was trying to do when she got her car stuck. I guess SUVs do have a purpose.
Her valiant escape attempt was caused by the afore mentioned retarded bit of traffic (RBOT). The RBOT was a result of a sweeping line of flares that started in the far left lane and that arced all the way over to the right lane, leaving only the exit lane free. Everyone merged from 4 lanes to 1 exit lane, and drove thusly for a quarter mile. Then there was another sweeping line of flares positioned exactly the same way. 2 sets of flares and no accidents or police presence gets people suspicious, so at the second line of flares everyone merged back to fill up the 4 lanes, some people driving right over the still burning flares.
There was no reason for the flares, which means there was no reason for the traffic, which means there was no reason for the lady to get her self stuck by trying to drive up the side of a freeway onramp. Then again, there aren't many reasons for driving the wrong way up a freeway onramp.
Today I saw a retarded piece of driving, inspired by a retarded bit of traffic.
As I was getting on to a very backed up freeway, there was a woman in a small white station wagon that was trying to escape the traffic jam. She had tried to drive up the embankment and onto the onramp in hopes of weaving through oncoming traffic to get back to the side roads. But in trying to do this, she had high-centered her car on the embankment, and was now sitting immobile in her car, perpendicular to everyone getting on the freeway, talking animatedly on her cell phone. Just to rub it in, a land rover effortlessly did what she what she was trying to do when she got her car stuck. I guess SUVs do have a purpose.
Her valiant escape attempt was caused by the afore mentioned retarded bit of traffic (RBOT). The RBOT was a result of a sweeping line of flares that started in the far left lane and that arced all the way over to the right lane, leaving only the exit lane free. Everyone merged from 4 lanes to 1 exit lane, and drove thusly for a quarter mile. Then there was another sweeping line of flares positioned exactly the same way. 2 sets of flares and no accidents or police presence gets people suspicious, so at the second line of flares everyone merged back to fill up the 4 lanes, some people driving right over the still burning flares.
There was no reason for the flares, which means there was no reason for the traffic, which means there was no reason for the lady to get her self stuck by trying to drive up the side of a freeway onramp. Then again, there aren't many reasons for driving the wrong way up a freeway onramp.
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
Bowling for Bozos
This Friday a bunch of went bowling in Colma, land of the dead. According to Stuff Magazine, "Colma is home to 1,100 living people. And 1.5 million dead ones." Colma has many, many graveyards, a small population, and a 24-hour bowling alley.
This bowling alley has, among other things, 25$/hr games, a twitchy employee with Grease-the-Musical Hair in front and a ponytail in back, free socks, and TVs over every lane to play animations that make fun of you when you get gutter-balls. The screen also tells you whose turn it is, and what the scores are. By far the best part of the screen is that it tells you how fast your last bowl was. Since I suck at bowling, Amos and I decided to go for the land speed bowling record.
Amos is quite a bit taller than I am and he doesn't sit on the couch all day. So I was pretty sure we was going to win. He made a good effort, but in the end, to everyone's surprise, I won. His best was 20.8 miles per hour, while my best was a blistering 21.13 miles per hour. My previous best (and my actual best frame in terms of speed and score) was the strike I threw at 20.78 miles per hour. And to top it all of, on the second game I bowled a 107.
Now for the blog posting's title namesake. Bowling next to us was a number of dancing obsessed teens. (There were two Justin Timberlake look-a-likes in the bowling alley that night. One was in this group.) Before every shot, they would dance along to the music like some R&B video, except set in a bowling alley. There were lots of kicks and fancy turns, and at one point one of them did the worm. They also spiced up the game by bowling with 2 balls at once (1 ball stayed in the gutter for a half hour) and with 2 people at once (both balls made it safely behind the gate).
This is not to say that trying to bowl as fast as you can awesome-tastic, and maybe my lack of ability to move my hands and feet at the same time colors my opinion, but I feel that dancing and bowling don't mix. I suck at, but still like bowling. I suck at, and greatly dislike dancing. So dancing can just keep its distance from my bowling. I make this decree as the land speed bowling champion of the land of the dead.
This Friday a bunch of went bowling in Colma, land of the dead. According to Stuff Magazine, "Colma is home to 1,100 living people. And 1.5 million dead ones." Colma has many, many graveyards, a small population, and a 24-hour bowling alley.
This bowling alley has, among other things, 25$/hr games, a twitchy employee with Grease-the-Musical Hair in front and a ponytail in back, free socks, and TVs over every lane to play animations that make fun of you when you get gutter-balls. The screen also tells you whose turn it is, and what the scores are. By far the best part of the screen is that it tells you how fast your last bowl was. Since I suck at bowling, Amos and I decided to go for the land speed bowling record.
Amos is quite a bit taller than I am and he doesn't sit on the couch all day. So I was pretty sure we was going to win. He made a good effort, but in the end, to everyone's surprise, I won. His best was 20.8 miles per hour, while my best was a blistering 21.13 miles per hour. My previous best (and my actual best frame in terms of speed and score) was the strike I threw at 20.78 miles per hour. And to top it all of, on the second game I bowled a 107.
Now for the blog posting's title namesake. Bowling next to us was a number of dancing obsessed teens. (There were two Justin Timberlake look-a-likes in the bowling alley that night. One was in this group.) Before every shot, they would dance along to the music like some R&B video, except set in a bowling alley. There were lots of kicks and fancy turns, and at one point one of them did the worm. They also spiced up the game by bowling with 2 balls at once (1 ball stayed in the gutter for a half hour) and with 2 people at once (both balls made it safely behind the gate).
This is not to say that trying to bowl as fast as you can awesome-tastic, and maybe my lack of ability to move my hands and feet at the same time colors my opinion, but I feel that dancing and bowling don't mix. I suck at, but still like bowling. I suck at, and greatly dislike dancing. So dancing can just keep its distance from my bowling. I make this decree as the land speed bowling champion of the land of the dead.
Monday, June 14, 2004
Too Much Writing
Part of the reason I haven't posted anything in quite a while was the afore mentioned trip to LA. The other part of the reason for not posting was that I was trying to write 31 letters for Kristin to read while she's in El Salvador.
It was much harder than I thought it was going to be to write 31 letters. Each letter is about a page long, so there’s the shear volume of the writing weighing me down. Then to cap it off, all these letters are written as if I was writing them in the coming month, so I had to make up all my news and daily happenings. While some of the letter contained the dull and ordinary, some contained: encounters with homeless men selling gigantic stuffed giraffes, flaming cinnamon bears, flaming mustache hair, and Iraqi politics.
As a result of writing all these letters, my brain is tired. I'm surprised by how much writing takes out of me. I'm genuinely pooped. And it's only 9:15pm.
Part of the reason I haven't posted anything in quite a while was the afore mentioned trip to LA. The other part of the reason for not posting was that I was trying to write 31 letters for Kristin to read while she's in El Salvador.
It was much harder than I thought it was going to be to write 31 letters. Each letter is about a page long, so there’s the shear volume of the writing weighing me down. Then to cap it off, all these letters are written as if I was writing them in the coming month, so I had to make up all my news and daily happenings. While some of the letter contained the dull and ordinary, some contained: encounters with homeless men selling gigantic stuffed giraffes, flaming cinnamon bears, flaming mustache hair, and Iraqi politics.
As a result of writing all these letters, my brain is tired. I'm surprised by how much writing takes out of me. I'm genuinely pooped. And it's only 9:15pm.
Sunday, June 13, 2004
Home Sweet Home
Wow. How's this for a long time between posts? I win the award for laziest blogger.
I just got back from LA. I drove down to pick up my roommate who rode the Aids Lifecycle. For those not in the know, everyone on the ride has to raise $2500. Then they ride their bikes (pedal bikes mind you) from San Francisco to Los Angeles over 7 Days. It's pretty ridiculous.
But so is LA. I can believe how weird and not city like LA is. It's all freeways and strip malls. You can tell when you are leaving one city and entering another, because it all looks exactly the same.
We ate dinner down there at an In and Out Burger attached to a (non-strip, but indoor) mall. I had a 6 hour drive ahead of me, but after eating, I was dreading the walk back through the mall. It was the longest mall I've ever seen. It just kept going, and going, and going, and there were only 2 directories in the whole place. It probably took us 20 to 30 minutes to find the In and Out, and we may not have if we hadn't met up at the last minute with someone who had been there before.
Beyond the strip mall ugliness is the air and driving ugliness. It was round about 90 degrees yesterday and the sky was blue. But only if you were looking straight up. As I moved my head down toward the horizon, the sky went from blue, to blue-grey, to grey-blue, to grey. Things that weren't very far away were hazy. Yuck.
Finally, everyone in LA drives like they are the only one on the road. This is not to say that every car in San Francisco is piloted by Mrs. Manners, but these people just assume they have the right of way in ALL situations. Apart from the numerous freeway near-hits, the most blatant stupidity was the guy driving an El Camino out of the parking lot of a gas station. He just drove right out into the very busy street I was on without stopping or checking to see if there was room. (There wasn't any.) Am actually not sure how he managed not to hit anyone. Maybe he drives like that because it's a magic car.
I'm glad I live in San Francisco.
Wow. How's this for a long time between posts? I win the award for laziest blogger.
I just got back from LA. I drove down to pick up my roommate who rode the Aids Lifecycle. For those not in the know, everyone on the ride has to raise $2500. Then they ride their bikes (pedal bikes mind you) from San Francisco to Los Angeles over 7 Days. It's pretty ridiculous.
But so is LA. I can believe how weird and not city like LA is. It's all freeways and strip malls. You can tell when you are leaving one city and entering another, because it all looks exactly the same.
We ate dinner down there at an In and Out Burger attached to a (non-strip, but indoor) mall. I had a 6 hour drive ahead of me, but after eating, I was dreading the walk back through the mall. It was the longest mall I've ever seen. It just kept going, and going, and going, and there were only 2 directories in the whole place. It probably took us 20 to 30 minutes to find the In and Out, and we may not have if we hadn't met up at the last minute with someone who had been there before.
Beyond the strip mall ugliness is the air and driving ugliness. It was round about 90 degrees yesterday and the sky was blue. But only if you were looking straight up. As I moved my head down toward the horizon, the sky went from blue, to blue-grey, to grey-blue, to grey. Things that weren't very far away were hazy. Yuck.
Finally, everyone in LA drives like they are the only one on the road. This is not to say that every car in San Francisco is piloted by Mrs. Manners, but these people just assume they have the right of way in ALL situations. Apart from the numerous freeway near-hits, the most blatant stupidity was the guy driving an El Camino out of the parking lot of a gas station. He just drove right out into the very busy street I was on without stopping or checking to see if there was room. (There wasn't any.) Am actually not sure how he managed not to hit anyone. Maybe he drives like that because it's a magic car.
I'm glad I live in San Francisco.
Friday, June 04, 2004
The Hiccup Questions Answered
Did my hiccups go away? Yes. Did they take their sweet time in doing so? Most definitely.
I noticed after my first little meal that eating seemed to make the hiccups go away for a short while. So later on I had some toast, which did the trick for about a half hour. But sure enough, the hiccups came back. Luckily I really like toast, so I had some more. And while toast part II was scrumptious, the hiccups didn't go away. So from that point I hiccupped straight on through 'til 11:45pm.
I did try several other things to get rid of them. Among them:
-Drinking water out of the far side of the glass. (This involves bending way forward and drinking from the top of your mouth. This is also an excellent way to fill your nose with water.)
-Holding my breath and swallowing a big gulp of air. (This is a good way to burp and hiccup at the same time.)
-Drinking water through a paper towel. (This is a fine way of wasting a paper towel.)
-Kristin trying to scare me. (This didn't work because Kristin is far too cute to be scary.)
In the end, it was best to read Harry Potter and wait for the hiccups to leave of their own accord.
When I told my Dad about my bout with hiccups, he said that my uncle once had the hiccups for 4 days and had to go to the hospital. I'm glad I only heard about this after I was done. I imagine hiccups and panic attacks are a bad mix.
Did my hiccups go away? Yes. Did they take their sweet time in doing so? Most definitely.
I noticed after my first little meal that eating seemed to make the hiccups go away for a short while. So later on I had some toast, which did the trick for about a half hour. But sure enough, the hiccups came back. Luckily I really like toast, so I had some more. And while toast part II was scrumptious, the hiccups didn't go away. So from that point I hiccupped straight on through 'til 11:45pm.
I did try several other things to get rid of them. Among them:
-Drinking water out of the far side of the glass. (This involves bending way forward and drinking from the top of your mouth. This is also an excellent way to fill your nose with water.)
-Holding my breath and swallowing a big gulp of air. (This is a good way to burp and hiccup at the same time.)
-Drinking water through a paper towel. (This is a fine way of wasting a paper towel.)
-Kristin trying to scare me. (This didn't work because Kristin is far too cute to be scary.)
In the end, it was best to read Harry Potter and wait for the hiccups to leave of their own accord.
When I told my Dad about my bout with hiccups, he said that my uncle once had the hiccups for 4 days and had to go to the hospital. I'm glad I only heard about this after I was done. I imagine hiccups and panic attacks are a bad mix.
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