When I was younger, I guess when I was still in school, I had to defend my wanting to date a guy with a better job. I remember hearing “girls are always hung up on a guy making money,” etc. etc. blah blah blah. I didn’t want to be that girl, but I wanted to, like, be able to get a burrito when I felt like it. If you can’t afford a burrito when you feel like it, I don’t want to date you. I’m not talking, jewelry here, just, like, a falafel now and then. I don’t know why that makes me shallow or materialistic. I think underemployed guys were just bitter.
Now, I’m that guy. I can’t afford what is wanted. I mean, burritos, yes, but not other important big-ticket things. I just can’t. I made horrible school and career choices, financially speaking, and I won’t ever be able to do that.
So, calling the search for new digs off, for the second time in as many years.
Anyway, I like my apartment, so whatever. Anyone who hates my apartment should think seriously about the last time they were able to stumble home from 15 bars and out to Thai food at 2am, or walk down to about 12 museums in the afternoon. I am a city girl; suburbs are quaint at best, more like dead to me. Having a yard is no compensation for being isolated from city life. I don’t even like gardening.
So, I’m getting rid of a lot of stuff. Photo stuff, art supplies, clothes, shoes, probably a lot of fabric, a printer, my giant G3 at some point, some bike parts, motorcycle gear… just to start. That should be a good start, and the rest to follow. I may post some of this stuff if anyone is interested. Otherwise, goodwill or whatever. I’m too stupid to ebay. Shipping confuses me.
I’ve been really fucking cranky recently, and I need to figure out how to make that stop. I feel so fragmented, and it seems unfounded. I don’t even know why I’ve been so busy, but I don’t spend enough time at home I guess, to keep it in order. That bugs the hell out of me, because I really feel like I’m not even doing that much. I used to have friends, but even that has faded away. Every week or so, I try to touch base with James, but fail. Well, at least I saw Lucy. Yay, I did something. What am I really doing to make the world a better place? Not a whole lot. I’m failing. Work has gotten bad, but I think mostly because of my own attitude. I need to take control, and point it in the direction I want, and do a much better job than I’ve been doing. The same could be said about all aspects of my life right now. Clean up, make a plan, move in a new direction. Throw out the deadwood. I’m the only one responsible for making me happy, and making my job better, and making my home life work.
Starting today at work, and tonight at home.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
New Stuff
Saturday, Paul and I went to San Jose to meet up with my Junior High School-era friend Lucy, who was visiting from LA, and her new boyfriend. They were all icky-cute and stuff. There is NOT A GODDAM THING TO DO IN SAN JOSE. What a pit. It’s actually gotten way more boring than it was when I was living there. Suckers. The streets were empty where there used to be people working, drinking coffee, discussing, living, DOING. Now there was no one, and everything was closed, except at the mall. The mall was packed. Fucking disgusting San Jose bullshit culture. We wanted to go to the Apple store to see if was easier to get help at the one in San Jose. The one in SF is always full of people just wasting time and checking their email. I want to BUY.
Got some info, then rushed back up to the City, parked, and hiked down to the Apple store. And within a half hour or so, I had my new computer! Woot. I am so excited. The machine I was using at home had been stretched beyond its years. But, being a cheap bastard, I wanted to make it last longer. Until, recently, when the monitor started to die. It was THE hot shit when it came to my house about 8 or ten years ago, the first generation of G3. Now it is a giant paperweight.
Note: I now have a new computer, and there are a few myspace profiles that still take like five minutes to load. Those people might want to rethink how important they think they are, that they need all that bullshit on there.
So now I have a 12” Ibook, and I can join the legions of people who go to public places and sit in front of their computers. Once I figure that out, anyway. For now, I’ve gotten most of my photos onto it, and made the internet work at home with the DSL cables. I still need to unpack the printer and Ipod, but I think I ought to do some cleaning (or possibly something in the vein of clear-cutting) at my apartment first. What a sty!
Wasted Sunday engrossed in my new toy, transferring data, and puttering around the bookstore a bit. Paul and I will be spending about a week in Ireland after the Isle of Man TT next June, but can’t figure out what we ought to do there. Ideas?
One thought is that I may need to learn to drive. I’ve always thought it was a part of my charm, the fact that I’ve never learned to drive a car. Cars suck anyway. But we can’t find any motorcycle rental places in Ireland (except Belfast, and we are coming in and out of Dublin I think) and I don’t know that the train will work for us, depending on where we decide to go. So, anyone want to teach me how to drive stick? I refuse to learn in an automatic car. That hardly seems worth justifying with the word “learn,” like it’s a skill or something.
Sunday, my mom surprised us by being in the City, so we met for dinner at Zuni. It was yummy of course.
And the other pending issue is apartment hunting. We’re looking for a new place to live. Needs, in order of priority: Garage, cat, one or two bedrooms, non-ghetto neighborhood, outside space for said cat (even just a patio or whatever), convenient-ish to freeways or whatever, and less than $1500. A lot less would be a lot better.
The sticking point is that the garage needs to be an honest-to-goodness garage. Just for us. No carports or shared deals. We will put tools and stuff in it, and change tires while drinking beers with the radio playing in the background.
Ideally, it would be in SF. MOST ideally, Potrero Hill, North side-ish, but, yeah, right, I know.
Got some info, then rushed back up to the City, parked, and hiked down to the Apple store. And within a half hour or so, I had my new computer! Woot. I am so excited. The machine I was using at home had been stretched beyond its years. But, being a cheap bastard, I wanted to make it last longer. Until, recently, when the monitor started to die. It was THE hot shit when it came to my house about 8 or ten years ago, the first generation of G3. Now it is a giant paperweight.
Note: I now have a new computer, and there are a few myspace profiles that still take like five minutes to load. Those people might want to rethink how important they think they are, that they need all that bullshit on there.
So now I have a 12” Ibook, and I can join the legions of people who go to public places and sit in front of their computers. Once I figure that out, anyway. For now, I’ve gotten most of my photos onto it, and made the internet work at home with the DSL cables. I still need to unpack the printer and Ipod, but I think I ought to do some cleaning (or possibly something in the vein of clear-cutting) at my apartment first. What a sty!
Wasted Sunday engrossed in my new toy, transferring data, and puttering around the bookstore a bit. Paul and I will be spending about a week in Ireland after the Isle of Man TT next June, but can’t figure out what we ought to do there. Ideas?
One thought is that I may need to learn to drive. I’ve always thought it was a part of my charm, the fact that I’ve never learned to drive a car. Cars suck anyway. But we can’t find any motorcycle rental places in Ireland (except Belfast, and we are coming in and out of Dublin I think) and I don’t know that the train will work for us, depending on where we decide to go. So, anyone want to teach me how to drive stick? I refuse to learn in an automatic car. That hardly seems worth justifying with the word “learn,” like it’s a skill or something.
Sunday, my mom surprised us by being in the City, so we met for dinner at Zuni. It was yummy of course.
And the other pending issue is apartment hunting. We’re looking for a new place to live. Needs, in order of priority: Garage, cat, one or two bedrooms, non-ghetto neighborhood, outside space for said cat (even just a patio or whatever), convenient-ish to freeways or whatever, and less than $1500. A lot less would be a lot better.
The sticking point is that the garage needs to be an honest-to-goodness garage. Just for us. No carports or shared deals. We will put tools and stuff in it, and change tires while drinking beers with the radio playing in the background.
Ideally, it would be in SF. MOST ideally, Potrero Hill, North side-ish, but, yeah, right, I know.
Friday, September 09, 2005
next, they'll want seatbelts
uhm, yeah. This is really dumb.
I mean, oh, good, this will eliminate all that whiplash I've been getting when T-Boning left turn-ers.
I appreciate the interest in safety and all, but motorcycles are very different than cars. WHO ends a crash sitting on their bike with their hands on the bars?
Pinkies out, no doubt.
This reminds me of the ghetto lady that rear-ended me on my dirtbike at a stoplight, then started yelling at me.
"Ain't you 'posedta be wearin a seatbelt?"
yeah, lady, tell the cops when they get here.
I mean, oh, good, this will eliminate all that whiplash I've been getting when T-Boning left turn-ers.
I appreciate the interest in safety and all, but motorcycles are very different than cars. WHO ends a crash sitting on their bike with their hands on the bars?
Pinkies out, no doubt.
This reminds me of the ghetto lady that rear-ended me on my dirtbike at a stoplight, then started yelling at me.
"Ain't you 'posedta be wearin a seatbelt?"
yeah, lady, tell the cops when they get here.
A random note about evacuating people
I'm not saying a lot about Katrina on purpose.
There's a lot, and we should all pay attention, and take notes, and not forget, because the spin is coming. The rose-colored glasses and finger-pointing are on their way. Don't forget what really happened when we watched it unfold in slow motion.
But I don't have the energy, nor the first-hand knowledge to make important discussions now.
However.
People not being allowed to take their pets is utter bullshit.
I know, the logical thing is to save the humans first, animals later, or something.
These people have lost everything. Maybe the only companion they have left is Fido. Maybe they just spent the last week with no one but Fido, and you're going to tell them to leave behing their ONE companion? Tell them to give up on the little furry bit of joy and love they've been taking care of all week? Ever been through something really tough with someone, and noticed an extra-special bond? It's just you and your dog, waiting for a week on a mostly-submerged rooftop, rationing out the snacks you have in your backpack, surviving. Now you're supposed to leave him behind?
Fuck a lot of that.
Seriously, inhumane to the animals and humans. This is ridiculous.
There's a lot, and we should all pay attention, and take notes, and not forget, because the spin is coming. The rose-colored glasses and finger-pointing are on their way. Don't forget what really happened when we watched it unfold in slow motion.
But I don't have the energy, nor the first-hand knowledge to make important discussions now.
However.
People not being allowed to take their pets is utter bullshit.
I know, the logical thing is to save the humans first, animals later, or something.
These people have lost everything. Maybe the only companion they have left is Fido. Maybe they just spent the last week with no one but Fido, and you're going to tell them to leave behing their ONE companion? Tell them to give up on the little furry bit of joy and love they've been taking care of all week? Ever been through something really tough with someone, and noticed an extra-special bond? It's just you and your dog, waiting for a week on a mostly-submerged rooftop, rationing out the snacks you have in your backpack, surviving. Now you're supposed to leave him behind?
Fuck a lot of that.
Seriously, inhumane to the animals and humans. This is ridiculous.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Wandering, but not in the desert
It’s nice being untethered.
Or, being tethered to another untethered thingy.
This is the first time in I think 6 years that I’ve not been out in Black Rock Desert for Labor Day. What to do? Well, I got all wrapped up with the Magic show, and nothing was planned. That’s OK, hell, maybe that’s actually better. Pile some crap on the bikes and let’s go!
Friday night we opted to stay home, since our target was about four hours away and finding and setting up a camp in the dark and cold sucks ass. I crashed out early while Paul fussed with the bikes.
The goal was to go north, probably around Fort Bragg somewhere. We didn't have plans or reservations, but worst case was turning around or pulling over somewhere remote. Shit, we already proved that we could ride out 24 hours in some snotty twisty shit, so nothing seemed worrisome about this. See something you like? Pull over! Like it a lot? Sleep there! Otherwise, keep wandering.
Saturday morning we finally hit the road around 10:00 and headed north. The directions were to take 101 to Willits and then go West on 20, but when we came up on 128, I remembered it went through Boonville to the coast. I like Boonville, and was tired of 101. We got to Fort Bragg just around the time my gas light started blinking (1 gallon left). That’s pretty good! For lunch, I dragged us into the North Coast Brewery, on account of, there’s always a huge wait at the Brewery during the Sheetiron, so I figured it must be good. It wasn’t. They make good beer, but my garden burger came out still frozen, and nothing was good except the fries. Good fries. Meh. Followed a bunch of assholes in RV’s out several miles north, and a few miles after they had all pulled off at a campground on the beach with “FULL HOOKUPS!” we found a nice spot just off Highway 1.
The actual campground was bleak, mainly just a field with firepits and picnic tables, and some pit toilets. We found a nice spot near the highway, opposite the line of RV’s camped along the ocean side of the bluff. The people at this campground were weird and scary, not in a personal danger sort of way, just in a “oh my god, this is what we’re up against” kind of way. People who ignore their kids unless they are yelling at them. And yell they did!
Whatever. The beach here (ahem, this is all a guess, since the trail was closed) is amazing. Feels very pristine. Shitloads of tidal pool life. I have never seen so many huge starfish jammed into one spot. Birds I’d never seen before. Cranes, seals (or were they sea lions? I’m not sure), hermit crabs, even a little tiny fish in the tidal pools. A few old engine parts rusting away next to mountains of seaweed, and a giant piece of bleached redwood. Flies were thick, and I had to keep my beer covered.
Drinking on the beach, picking through the slippery rocks with a beer in my hand. Oh, uhh, is the tide coming in or going out? Will we be able to get back before the sun sets?
And to think, I could have been roasting in a hot tent listening to some fucker's oontz oontz music all week with a hangover!
Sunday, we poked around Fort Bragg and Mendocino, and spent more time drinking and poking around on the beach.
Things I DIDN’T say to the two guys in Harley costumes standing next the parking spot we pulled into in the quaint little B&B town of Mendocino:
-“How do you decide which one of you gets to sit on the back?" when they asked why we came on two bikes.
-“Just like you two, a romantic weekend away?” when they asked what brought us out. (I mean, isn’t that what people DO in Mendocino?)
-“well, at least you ride,” when they said “well, at least you ride” with that tone of sympathy for us since we couldn’t ride Harleys.
-"because I prefer passing traffic, to holding up traffic," when asked why we chose the bikes we did.
Breakfast was in a shitty greasy spoon Monday because downtown Fort Bragg was closed for a parade. Oh, boy, were the weekend warrior riders out in force!
Highway 20 is the last leg of the Sheetiron westbound route, and I remembered it being very pretty. Figuring Highway 1 would be averaging 15mph because of RV assholes, we took 20 over to 101. For several miles, I was astounded at how nice people were being, taking the turnouts to let us pass on 20. It was all so civil! Soon enough, though we came to a trail of about six cars behind one RV. After he passed a few turnouts, the illegal passing had to start. This motherfucker must have had about thirty cars behind him by the time Paul passed him and slowed him up enough for me to get around (the road was pretty twisty by then). 20 is a beautiful road, and nicely planned such that there are a LOT of turnouts. What the fuck is it about RV drivers that they nearly ALWAYS refuse to use turnouts? The law states that you must pull out for 5 vehicles behind you. 30 vehicles behind you and passing turnouts? You ought to be dragged out and shot. Yes, shot. We don’t need selfish motherfuckers like you. READ the CVC’s dumbass! And, fuck, even without a law, you ought to have some goddam manners. Big problem here. Cops hate people passing over the double yellow, but they don't ticket for lane-blocking violations. Well, I'm sorry, but crossing highway 20 at 15mph, for what Mr. RV would have liked to be the ENTIRE stretch, is not a fucking option.
RV's are evil and pathetic. You're not camping. You're not out seeing the world. You're blocking it up for everyone else, all while maintaining your cute little isolated mentality. Just stay home. For the love of god, stay home.
Finally out of the RV shit-storm, we stopped in Petaluma to visit the cafe with my favorite bathroom. Home again and watched Scotland, PA from netflix. (It was decent)
Or, being tethered to another untethered thingy.
This is the first time in I think 6 years that I’ve not been out in Black Rock Desert for Labor Day. What to do? Well, I got all wrapped up with the Magic show, and nothing was planned. That’s OK, hell, maybe that’s actually better. Pile some crap on the bikes and let’s go!
Friday night we opted to stay home, since our target was about four hours away and finding and setting up a camp in the dark and cold sucks ass. I crashed out early while Paul fussed with the bikes.
The goal was to go north, probably around Fort Bragg somewhere. We didn't have plans or reservations, but worst case was turning around or pulling over somewhere remote. Shit, we already proved that we could ride out 24 hours in some snotty twisty shit, so nothing seemed worrisome about this. See something you like? Pull over! Like it a lot? Sleep there! Otherwise, keep wandering.
Saturday morning we finally hit the road around 10:00 and headed north. The directions were to take 101 to Willits and then go West on 20, but when we came up on 128, I remembered it went through Boonville to the coast. I like Boonville, and was tired of 101. We got to Fort Bragg just around the time my gas light started blinking (1 gallon left). That’s pretty good! For lunch, I dragged us into the North Coast Brewery, on account of, there’s always a huge wait at the Brewery during the Sheetiron, so I figured it must be good. It wasn’t. They make good beer, but my garden burger came out still frozen, and nothing was good except the fries. Good fries. Meh. Followed a bunch of assholes in RV’s out several miles north, and a few miles after they had all pulled off at a campground on the beach with “FULL HOOKUPS!” we found a nice spot just off Highway 1.
The actual campground was bleak, mainly just a field with firepits and picnic tables, and some pit toilets. We found a nice spot near the highway, opposite the line of RV’s camped along the ocean side of the bluff. The people at this campground were weird and scary, not in a personal danger sort of way, just in a “oh my god, this is what we’re up against” kind of way. People who ignore their kids unless they are yelling at them. And yell they did!
Whatever. The beach here (ahem, this is all a guess, since the trail was closed) is amazing. Feels very pristine. Shitloads of tidal pool life. I have never seen so many huge starfish jammed into one spot. Birds I’d never seen before. Cranes, seals (or were they sea lions? I’m not sure), hermit crabs, even a little tiny fish in the tidal pools. A few old engine parts rusting away next to mountains of seaweed, and a giant piece of bleached redwood. Flies were thick, and I had to keep my beer covered.
Drinking on the beach, picking through the slippery rocks with a beer in my hand. Oh, uhh, is the tide coming in or going out? Will we be able to get back before the sun sets?
And to think, I could have been roasting in a hot tent listening to some fucker's oontz oontz music all week with a hangover!
Sunday, we poked around Fort Bragg and Mendocino, and spent more time drinking and poking around on the beach.
Things I DIDN’T say to the two guys in Harley costumes standing next the parking spot we pulled into in the quaint little B&B town of Mendocino:
-“How do you decide which one of you gets to sit on the back?" when they asked why we came on two bikes.
-“Just like you two, a romantic weekend away?” when they asked what brought us out. (I mean, isn’t that what people DO in Mendocino?)
-“well, at least you ride,” when they said “well, at least you ride” with that tone of sympathy for us since we couldn’t ride Harleys.
-"because I prefer passing traffic, to holding up traffic," when asked why we chose the bikes we did.
Breakfast was in a shitty greasy spoon Monday because downtown Fort Bragg was closed for a parade. Oh, boy, were the weekend warrior riders out in force!
Highway 20 is the last leg of the Sheetiron westbound route, and I remembered it being very pretty. Figuring Highway 1 would be averaging 15mph because of RV assholes, we took 20 over to 101. For several miles, I was astounded at how nice people were being, taking the turnouts to let us pass on 20. It was all so civil! Soon enough, though we came to a trail of about six cars behind one RV. After he passed a few turnouts, the illegal passing had to start. This motherfucker must have had about thirty cars behind him by the time Paul passed him and slowed him up enough for me to get around (the road was pretty twisty by then). 20 is a beautiful road, and nicely planned such that there are a LOT of turnouts. What the fuck is it about RV drivers that they nearly ALWAYS refuse to use turnouts? The law states that you must pull out for 5 vehicles behind you. 30 vehicles behind you and passing turnouts? You ought to be dragged out and shot. Yes, shot. We don’t need selfish motherfuckers like you. READ the CVC’s dumbass! And, fuck, even without a law, you ought to have some goddam manners. Big problem here. Cops hate people passing over the double yellow, but they don't ticket for lane-blocking violations. Well, I'm sorry, but crossing highway 20 at 15mph, for what Mr. RV would have liked to be the ENTIRE stretch, is not a fucking option.
RV's are evil and pathetic. You're not camping. You're not out seeing the world. You're blocking it up for everyone else, all while maintaining your cute little isolated mentality. Just stay home. For the love of god, stay home.
Finally out of the RV shit-storm, we stopped in Petaluma to visit the cafe with my favorite bathroom. Home again and watched Scotland, PA from netflix. (It was decent)
Friday, September 02, 2005
Spam in my Fucking Blog?!?!?!?
That's like graffiti in someone's diary.
I'll be so excited to check out all of your websites! I've been looking for a good home based business to make millions.
I hate humans.
I'll be so excited to check out all of your websites! I've been looking for a good home based business to make millions.
I hate humans.
Wynn is for Losers
Vegas! Yeah! Omigod, it’s so great!
OK, no, it’s not. It’s fucking 110 degrees in Las Vegas in August, and I don’t like that one bit.
Flew out to Vegas Saturday morning to set up for my company’s presence at the Magic show. This was my third time, and I think I’m starting to get it now.
Saturday, fly in, find my boss, go to the hotel, find the salespeople.
Everyone’s been a little excited about the new hotel. The Wynn! New! Fresh! Fancy! They spent $10,000 on each room! Two flat screen TV’s in each room!
Oh, shit, did we forget the hot water? But you got the TVs, right?
DO NOT stay at the Wynn hotel. (I'd link to it, but their website is annoying and slow)
I’ve stayed in worse places, hell yeah I have. But never for work, and never at that price. That price! More than the Bellagio, on some booking sites.
First impression of the Wynn: lobby/casino: I’ve been assaulted, all senses. Loud, in every sense of the word. Garish; I don’t understand the theme, it’s crowded and chaotic, and thank god the check-in lady gave me a map and drew a path to my elevator. The ceilings are low and I feel claustrophobic. Smell of cigarettes. Ugh.
My room is on the 6th floor; somehow my boss schmoozed his way to the 15th, even though the hotel is too new to really have VIP’s. Isn’t it? I guess. That just makes me feel like I got screwed by not knowing how to work the system. Coworkers who arrived a day earlier got 54th floor and that range. Nice views, in their rooms. I get a stunning view of… the roof of the casino. Incredibly ugly. Lame.
OK, I’m designing a fancy resort, I want my customers to feel like they got something for their money. How about I put in a grassy sculpture garden on the roof of the casino, so the lower room guests don’t have to stare at concrete? Or, I don’t know, a mosaic, or pool, or something? Wow, I’m a genius.
Fine. I can deal with that. The room is nice. I mean, ok, yeah, I can see it. Not nearly as nice as Venetian (which is twice the size) or the Bellagio (which is just nice period) but it’s alright. The bathroom is big, but the tub is a pretty useless shape. What’s up with the moisturizer though? I have two conditioners and no moisturizer. Now, I think I even get moisturizer when I stay at Super 8. But not here! It’s 110 and very dry outside; this is lame. I thought maybe it was a mistake, until the next day when one conditioner was in the shower, they replaced it with… another conditioner. (later I found out that one of my coworkers was getting two moisturizers and no soap for the shower. The guests at the Wynn should all get together and form some sort of trading-union.) Whatever. I expect more from a $300 hotel room.
I shouldn’t, at the Wynn, though, cuz the service throughout the hotel is shit. At the café for our breakfasts, it is s-l-o-w, and we can’t get seated immediately despite an empty and already set dining area. I know, but did I mention that my company spends a shitload of money when they are here? At night, when the big boys are gambling with big money ($1000 chips stacked up all around) they can NOT get a drink. Even asking the dealer, she just stares at them, and they have to track down a pit boss.
But wait, here’s the clincher. I had a swollen eye, and wanted a hot hot hot washcloth in the morning. But NO HOT WATER! Oh. My. God. Are we backpacking in Europe or something? OK fine, I’ll skip it and just take a shower. Again, nothing hot. I wait about five minutes, before making that heartbreaking decision that I am going to have to suck it up and suffer through a cold shower (at my schmancy resort hotel in Vegas) in order to make it to the show. Just about then, the water becomes tepid, and, well, I guess maybe you would say “warm.” Never “hot.” Totally unacceptable, but I have to go. (cuz I know breakfast is going to take a loooooong time)
Buffet: totally disorganized, shitty service, but good food.
Drugstore/Café: some of the highest prices I’ve seen. And, no I will not add a tip if I’ve just been charged $6 for a latte.
HOT WATER! NOT OPTIONAL!
Some nice things:
Daniel Boulud: One nice thing about the hotel. VERY good food.
Parasol Down: Despite the ridiculous one-drink minimum to watch the fountain outside, is very nice. This giant tile fountain and the trees around it are one of my favorite things about the hotel.
Tile: the colorful glass tile mosaics set into the marble floor throughout the casino are beautiful and fun. The tile work in the rest of the hotel is nice too.
OK, so no more Wynn hotel.
It was too hot to leave the hotel during the day, so I didn’t do a lot.
Nice spot at the top of Mandalay Bay (a beautiful hotel, if the public space is any indication) where we took some people out for a (pricey) dinner at Mix. The lounge up there is incredible, on the 64th floor, with stunning views and astoundingly high prices (what do you want? At least it was good and expensive, not bad and expensive, like everything at the Wynn)
The show was fun. Normally, I leave Monday around noon, but this time I spent a full day there, and left Tuesday around 2pm. Sticking around the booth is a little boring, but being in all the meetings with customers was interesting and gave me some insight on how they work and think. Yay! And there were yummy cookies too.
OK, no, it’s not. It’s fucking 110 degrees in Las Vegas in August, and I don’t like that one bit.
Flew out to Vegas Saturday morning to set up for my company’s presence at the Magic show. This was my third time, and I think I’m starting to get it now.
Saturday, fly in, find my boss, go to the hotel, find the salespeople.
Everyone’s been a little excited about the new hotel. The Wynn! New! Fresh! Fancy! They spent $10,000 on each room! Two flat screen TV’s in each room!
Oh, shit, did we forget the hot water? But you got the TVs, right?
DO NOT stay at the Wynn hotel. (I'd link to it, but their website is annoying and slow)
I’ve stayed in worse places, hell yeah I have. But never for work, and never at that price. That price! More than the Bellagio, on some booking sites.
First impression of the Wynn: lobby/casino: I’ve been assaulted, all senses. Loud, in every sense of the word. Garish; I don’t understand the theme, it’s crowded and chaotic, and thank god the check-in lady gave me a map and drew a path to my elevator. The ceilings are low and I feel claustrophobic. Smell of cigarettes. Ugh.
My room is on the 6th floor; somehow my boss schmoozed his way to the 15th, even though the hotel is too new to really have VIP’s. Isn’t it? I guess. That just makes me feel like I got screwed by not knowing how to work the system. Coworkers who arrived a day earlier got 54th floor and that range. Nice views, in their rooms. I get a stunning view of… the roof of the casino. Incredibly ugly. Lame.
OK, I’m designing a fancy resort, I want my customers to feel like they got something for their money. How about I put in a grassy sculpture garden on the roof of the casino, so the lower room guests don’t have to stare at concrete? Or, I don’t know, a mosaic, or pool, or something? Wow, I’m a genius.
Fine. I can deal with that. The room is nice. I mean, ok, yeah, I can see it. Not nearly as nice as Venetian (which is twice the size) or the Bellagio (which is just nice period) but it’s alright. The bathroom is big, but the tub is a pretty useless shape. What’s up with the moisturizer though? I have two conditioners and no moisturizer. Now, I think I even get moisturizer when I stay at Super 8. But not here! It’s 110 and very dry outside; this is lame. I thought maybe it was a mistake, until the next day when one conditioner was in the shower, they replaced it with… another conditioner. (later I found out that one of my coworkers was getting two moisturizers and no soap for the shower. The guests at the Wynn should all get together and form some sort of trading-union.) Whatever. I expect more from a $300 hotel room.
I shouldn’t, at the Wynn, though, cuz the service throughout the hotel is shit. At the café for our breakfasts, it is s-l-o-w, and we can’t get seated immediately despite an empty and already set dining area. I know, but did I mention that my company spends a shitload of money when they are here? At night, when the big boys are gambling with big money ($1000 chips stacked up all around) they can NOT get a drink. Even asking the dealer, she just stares at them, and they have to track down a pit boss.
But wait, here’s the clincher. I had a swollen eye, and wanted a hot hot hot washcloth in the morning. But NO HOT WATER! Oh. My. God. Are we backpacking in Europe or something? OK fine, I’ll skip it and just take a shower. Again, nothing hot. I wait about five minutes, before making that heartbreaking decision that I am going to have to suck it up and suffer through a cold shower (at my schmancy resort hotel in Vegas) in order to make it to the show. Just about then, the water becomes tepid, and, well, I guess maybe you would say “warm.” Never “hot.” Totally unacceptable, but I have to go. (cuz I know breakfast is going to take a loooooong time)
Buffet: totally disorganized, shitty service, but good food.
Drugstore/Café: some of the highest prices I’ve seen. And, no I will not add a tip if I’ve just been charged $6 for a latte.
HOT WATER! NOT OPTIONAL!
Some nice things:
Daniel Boulud: One nice thing about the hotel. VERY good food.
Parasol Down: Despite the ridiculous one-drink minimum to watch the fountain outside, is very nice. This giant tile fountain and the trees around it are one of my favorite things about the hotel.
Tile: the colorful glass tile mosaics set into the marble floor throughout the casino are beautiful and fun. The tile work in the rest of the hotel is nice too.
OK, so no more Wynn hotel.
It was too hot to leave the hotel during the day, so I didn’t do a lot.
Nice spot at the top of Mandalay Bay (a beautiful hotel, if the public space is any indication) where we took some people out for a (pricey) dinner at Mix. The lounge up there is incredible, on the 64th floor, with stunning views and astoundingly high prices (what do you want? At least it was good and expensive, not bad and expensive, like everything at the Wynn)
The show was fun. Normally, I leave Monday around noon, but this time I spent a full day there, and left Tuesday around 2pm. Sticking around the booth is a little boring, but being in all the meetings with customers was interesting and gave me some insight on how they work and think. Yay! And there were yummy cookies too.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
These people make me embarrassed
Robertson
Robertson, a contender for the Republican presidential nomination in 1988, called Chavez "a dangerous enemy to our south, controlling a huge pool of oil, that could hurt us badly."
"controlling a huge pool of oil" ought to be enough to invade any country from now on. We need more gas! At least we should be honest about it. I guess I should respect him for not trying to say they have WMD or something.
I do not believe that CNN is actually referring to this idiot as a "contender for the presidential nomination." Even the Republican party can't be that stupid.
Robertson, a contender for the Republican presidential nomination in 1988, called Chavez "a dangerous enemy to our south, controlling a huge pool of oil, that could hurt us badly."
"controlling a huge pool of oil" ought to be enough to invade any country from now on. We need more gas! At least we should be honest about it. I guess I should respect him for not trying to say they have WMD or something.
I do not believe that CNN is actually referring to this idiot as a "contender for the presidential nomination." Even the Republican party can't be that stupid.
Barkbusters, finally
(For some reason, my camera has decided to turn all my pictures blue. Bear with me here.)
A week or so ago, the Renthal bars and barkbusters finally went on the SV. It's been over a year since I decided to finally do that, but, blah blah blah, lots of wasted money and unusable bars in between. Now, here they are. And I like it, sort-of. Still need to fine tune. I think I need risers, since the new riding position has my arms pulled so far forward that they feel straight all the time. Risers may mean longer cables and stuff, meaning complications... Also, that windscreen looks stupid with the new setup. I am toying with going back to the old flyscreen, but it was really noisy on long trips. But, then, how often do I ride to
Seattle?
Dunno, but at least it's progress.
Oh, and how did I finally find bars that fit?
Streetfighters USA
Since they work on streetbikes, they are actually selling the Renthal Road bars. These will fit all your silly controls and doo-dads, the ones that dirtbikes don't have. I got the low ones, which I may not be thrilled with, since there's no cross bar, but they are a little longer in the flat part, which was a nice guarantee I wouldn't end up with another set of useless bars.
Despite being stretched out in a new riding position, it wasn't really uncomfortable on Sunday, when we rode to Tahoe and back. Unfortunately, it was HOT in the Central Valley. Ugh. Yuck, and ewww. We ate ice cream cones the size of our faces, and watched squirrels. I tried to nap on a boulder overlooking Emerald Bay, but was not allowed. Crappy rock cover bands are evil. Oh, and here's a good one: DO NOT, under any circumstances, wear swim trunks that are white. That's fucking horrible! They get wet, and, uh, see-through, oh god...
Saturday was cool because I got rid of some crap that had been piling up in my apartment for years. Photo chemicals I'd been storing in my closet since my first semester at college? Turned out to be quite easy to unload with a quick trip to the drop-off point in South SF. No problem! Then we filled up all three of Paul's Givi cases with books and went down to the library to drop them off. All gone! Yay! Tried to get rid of the used oil in Paul's garage, but got the run-around at the Berkeley drop off center (asses!) and then picked up camping gear out of a friend's garage that we'd been meaning to collect a few months back. So productive!
This weekend, Vegas, for work, and then I'm coming back and getting rid of more stuff.
A week or so ago, the Renthal bars and barkbusters finally went on the SV. It's been over a year since I decided to finally do that, but, blah blah blah, lots of wasted money and unusable bars in between. Now, here they are. And I like it, sort-of. Still need to fine tune. I think I need risers, since the new riding position has my arms pulled so far forward that they feel straight all the time. Risers may mean longer cables and stuff, meaning complications... Also, that windscreen looks stupid with the new setup. I am toying with going back to the old flyscreen, but it was really noisy on long trips. But, then, how often do I ride to
Seattle?Dunno, but at least it's progress.
Oh, and how did I finally find bars that fit?
Streetfighters USA
Since they work on streetbikes, they are actually selling the Renthal Road bars. These will fit all your silly controls and doo-dads, the ones that dirtbikes don't have. I got the low ones, which I may not be thrilled with, since there's no cross bar, but they are a little longer in the flat part, which was a nice guarantee I wouldn't end up with another set of useless bars.
Despite being stretched out in a new riding position, it wasn't really uncomfortable on Sunday, when we rode to Tahoe and back. Unfortunately, it was HOT in the Central Valley. Ugh. Yuck, and ewww. We ate ice cream cones the size of our faces, and watched squirrels. I tried to nap on a boulder overlooking Emerald Bay, but was not allowed. Crappy rock cover bands are evil. Oh, and here's a good one: DO NOT, under any circumstances, wear swim trunks that are white. That's fucking horrible! They get wet, and, uh, see-through, oh god...Saturday was cool because I got rid of some crap that had been piling up in my apartment for years. Photo chemicals I'd been storing in my closet since my first semester at college? Turned out to be quite easy to unload with a quick trip to the drop-off point in South SF. No problem! Then we filled up all three of Paul's Givi cases with books and went down to the library to drop them off. All gone! Yay! Tried to get rid of the used oil in Paul's garage, but got the run-around at the Berkeley drop off center (asses!) and then picked up camping gear out of a friend's garage that we'd been meaning to collect a few months back. So productive!
This weekend, Vegas, for work, and then I'm coming back and getting rid of more stuff.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Fez Monkeys
I’ve never been one to get upset about birthdays. Maybe I’m just not old enough yet, but I just tend to think that getting old isn’t such a bad thing. Well, until you start to lose it. That scares me. But I think that’s a long way off.
Despite myself, I wasn’t having a very good day yesterday. I don’t take change well, so I was a little depressed about relationships shifting in my life. At some point you have to throw up your hands and walk away, but it’s still sad. Yesterday. Sad. On the verge of tears. Maybe it’s from unrelated stress. But I don’t FEEL stressed about anything else. Huh.
Somehow, Paul made everything better, and completely spoiled me. It’s a little disgusting. We went to Pasha, which was like a train wreck. Middle Eastern is hands-down, my favorite cuisine. I’d rather have good hummus than a cupcake, probably, and that’s saying a lot.
Pasha is like a bad Disneyland version of Middle Eastern, but smarmy. That’s a good thing and a bad thing. The food was very uninspired. We had the Vegetarian Combination, and the cheese flambe, which was a sad reminder of how good the saganaki was at Byzantion in Seattle (this is one of those foods you dream about for years to come). The hummus wasn’t as good as Kan Zaman or Saha, but it was OK. Everything else was OK, except for something I ate which I thought was bad, like when you eat a strawberry and it tastes like dirt and then you see that there’s mold on the one below it, but Paul thought maybe it was spiced to taste like that. Hmm.
The real attraction to this place, I assume, is the ambiance and entertainment. And it WAS entertaining. There was a smarmy MC musician guy with his lecherous drumming cohort, and then a belly dancer. The whole thing had a very Vegas lounge lizard feel to it. They made a bunch of people in the audience get up and dance, like one at a time, and do a bunch of embarrassing shit. I flatly refused. It was like a train wreck, and just got more and more horrifying, watching all the middle aged accountants with their party of coworkers getting "crazy." But still funny. I have to think if there’s anyone I hate enough to take them to this place and make them get on stage.
After the show, the disco ball effect over the curtain draped walls and ceiling, along with the droopy techno reminded me of being in a come-down tent at Burning Man. Don't get me wrong, all of this was an experience not to be missed. I never have to wonder about Pasha again. And I won't ever get the image of the fat Indian guy with a giant mustache and a cheap sportcoat dancing in a fez.
After like $32 of pomegranate (and supposedly vodka) drinks, we were still sober (the drinks sucked as much as the food), and finished up and headed to Drunken Monkey, where we listened to bad music while I slurped down a real drink, before going home.
I love riding on the back when I’m drunk.
Paul makes everything better.
I never wanted to be one of those people who loses touch with their friends when they are in a relationship, but despite my best trying, it’s starting to look like that. At least I know it’s not my fault. I tried. I have always fought change tooth-and-nail, but it’s the way of life, and I ought to learn to be more accepting of that. Anyway, my mom always told me that adults don’t really have friends. It makes me unbearably sad, but I’m only going to allow sadness a few more days before I throw it out the door too and plunge into the next thing.
I am getting the hell out of town this weekend. Somewhere. Anywhere. Any suggestions?
Despite myself, I wasn’t having a very good day yesterday. I don’t take change well, so I was a little depressed about relationships shifting in my life. At some point you have to throw up your hands and walk away, but it’s still sad. Yesterday. Sad. On the verge of tears. Maybe it’s from unrelated stress. But I don’t FEEL stressed about anything else. Huh.
Somehow, Paul made everything better, and completely spoiled me. It’s a little disgusting. We went to Pasha, which was like a train wreck. Middle Eastern is hands-down, my favorite cuisine. I’d rather have good hummus than a cupcake, probably, and that’s saying a lot.
Pasha is like a bad Disneyland version of Middle Eastern, but smarmy. That’s a good thing and a bad thing. The food was very uninspired. We had the Vegetarian Combination, and the cheese flambe, which was a sad reminder of how good the saganaki was at Byzantion in Seattle (this is one of those foods you dream about for years to come). The hummus wasn’t as good as Kan Zaman or Saha, but it was OK. Everything else was OK, except for something I ate which I thought was bad, like when you eat a strawberry and it tastes like dirt and then you see that there’s mold on the one below it, but Paul thought maybe it was spiced to taste like that. Hmm.
The real attraction to this place, I assume, is the ambiance and entertainment. And it WAS entertaining. There was a smarmy MC musician guy with his lecherous drumming cohort, and then a belly dancer. The whole thing had a very Vegas lounge lizard feel to it. They made a bunch of people in the audience get up and dance, like one at a time, and do a bunch of embarrassing shit. I flatly refused. It was like a train wreck, and just got more and more horrifying, watching all the middle aged accountants with their party of coworkers getting "crazy." But still funny. I have to think if there’s anyone I hate enough to take them to this place and make them get on stage.
After the show, the disco ball effect over the curtain draped walls and ceiling, along with the droopy techno reminded me of being in a come-down tent at Burning Man. Don't get me wrong, all of this was an experience not to be missed. I never have to wonder about Pasha again. And I won't ever get the image of the fat Indian guy with a giant mustache and a cheap sportcoat dancing in a fez.
After like $32 of pomegranate (and supposedly vodka) drinks, we were still sober (the drinks sucked as much as the food), and finished up and headed to Drunken Monkey, where we listened to bad music while I slurped down a real drink, before going home.
I love riding on the back when I’m drunk.
Paul makes everything better.
I never wanted to be one of those people who loses touch with their friends when they are in a relationship, but despite my best trying, it’s starting to look like that. At least I know it’s not my fault. I tried. I have always fought change tooth-and-nail, but it’s the way of life, and I ought to learn to be more accepting of that. Anyway, my mom always told me that adults don’t really have friends. It makes me unbearably sad, but I’m only going to allow sadness a few more days before I throw it out the door too and plunge into the next thing.
I am getting the hell out of town this weekend. Somewhere. Anywhere. Any suggestions?
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
ummm. OK.
| Yamaha FJR1300 You scored 0 moxie, 6 zeal, and -3 pomp! |
You have the characteristics of a master street rider. On the way to work, your love for riding sometimes leads you to take the long way. The 50-miles-of-back-roads long way. You live for the perfect road, and plan vacations around riding.
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 |
My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
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| Link: The Motorcycle Personality Test written by iocaine on OkCupid Free Online Dating |
Monday, August 15, 2005
Girls' Weekend
It’s always sad to see people drifting in and out of your life. Sure, you meant to be close forever, but that rarely works out in the long term. Did you drag it on painfully, or just peter out? Did you upset each other? Get tired of each other? Just stop having time? Who knows, and why belabor the point? At some point, you give up, and chug ahead.
On the other hand, if I’d never been blessed with anything else in life, I’d be the luckiest girl in the world on account of my family. My parents and siblings and grandparents are wonderful people that I admire, respect, enjoy, and most importantly, love dearly. I miss them when I don’t see them. When I need to make changes, I seek their advice. I can’t remember any fighting in my adult life. There’s no drama, no manipulation, no favorite, no wondering what’s really going on underneath.
Also, we drink a lot of wine and eat a lot of cheese and chocolate.
This weekend was Girls’ Weekend, a tradition my mom started many years ago, which involves the three of us (my mom, my sister, and myself, and NOW, my brother’s wife!) going for a weekend together, usually at a B&B within a couple of hours from here. Occasionally, we go somewhere more distant, like the year we went to the LA County Museum of Art to see the Van Gogh exhibit, or to Chicago to spend a few days in museums. This year was fairly low-key, just a quiet weekend in Half Moon Bay, chatting, knitting, drinking, poking around bookstores…
After all these years, my dad countered with a Boys’ Weekend, and invited Paul to spend the weekend with him and my brother in Sutter Creek at a Ragtime festival. Paul gamely accepted. I think they had at least a little fun, since they went wine tasting.
I spent a good part of my day trying to book the ferry to Isle of Man for next year’s TT. I still don’t know how it works, only that I am supposed to get some information in January, where they confirm my time and fare. I think it sounds overly complicated and kind of like I’m getting screwed, but this is the only way (besides flying, which is out of the question) I still have not found anyone who can actually offer useful advice about travelling to Isle of Man.
And now, Paul and I are starting Mandarin classes this Thursday evening. I’m going to Vegas next weekend for work, though I’ve just found out that my dates are all screwed up. This coming weekend is pretty empty. I’d like to see my sister.
On the other hand, if I’d never been blessed with anything else in life, I’d be the luckiest girl in the world on account of my family. My parents and siblings and grandparents are wonderful people that I admire, respect, enjoy, and most importantly, love dearly. I miss them when I don’t see them. When I need to make changes, I seek their advice. I can’t remember any fighting in my adult life. There’s no drama, no manipulation, no favorite, no wondering what’s really going on underneath.
Also, we drink a lot of wine and eat a lot of cheese and chocolate.
This weekend was Girls’ Weekend, a tradition my mom started many years ago, which involves the three of us (my mom, my sister, and myself, and NOW, my brother’s wife!) going for a weekend together, usually at a B&B within a couple of hours from here. Occasionally, we go somewhere more distant, like the year we went to the LA County Museum of Art to see the Van Gogh exhibit, or to Chicago to spend a few days in museums. This year was fairly low-key, just a quiet weekend in Half Moon Bay, chatting, knitting, drinking, poking around bookstores…
After all these years, my dad countered with a Boys’ Weekend, and invited Paul to spend the weekend with him and my brother in Sutter Creek at a Ragtime festival. Paul gamely accepted. I think they had at least a little fun, since they went wine tasting.
I spent a good part of my day trying to book the ferry to Isle of Man for next year’s TT. I still don’t know how it works, only that I am supposed to get some information in January, where they confirm my time and fare. I think it sounds overly complicated and kind of like I’m getting screwed, but this is the only way (besides flying, which is out of the question) I still have not found anyone who can actually offer useful advice about travelling to Isle of Man.
And now, Paul and I are starting Mandarin classes this Thursday evening. I’m going to Vegas next weekend for work, though I’ve just found out that my dates are all screwed up. This coming weekend is pretty empty. I’d like to see my sister.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Time is on my side
Got this from a few of my friends...
20 years ago I...
1. Was 7.
2. Was changing schools and having no friends, again.
3. Was a Girl Scout
4. Thought I wanted to be a waitress when I grew up.
10 years ago I...
1. Was living in San Francisco, in my own apartment, at 17.
2. Spent most of my hours at school or doing homework
3. Thought I wanted to be a costume designer
4. Wore short skirts, big boots, striped tights, and spikes, almost exclusively.
5 years ago I...
1. Was working at my first full-time job in the apparel industry, at 22, which I was really enjoying at that time.
2. Was trying to get my first motorcycle back up and running, as I’d only just gotten it before it crapped out.
3. Was clubbing and socializing and sewing, a lot.
4. Could drink you under the table.
3 years ago I...
1. Was desperately trying to find a new job at 24 since a monstrous woman had been allowed to take over my department and run the company morale into the ground.
2. Was killing time with a not-especially-engaging ex.
3. Was riding motorcycles frequently, and spending lots of time with wonderful friends (Charles!) because of that.
4. Was working on buying my first NEW motorcycle.
1 year ago I...
1. Was working hard at the job that made me feel like an actual career-type-professional person, at 26.
2. Was falling madly for Paul
3. Was nursing the wounds from a pointless SV650 crash, after having ridden the damn thing to Seattle and back by myself with no problems.
4. Was going to my first trade show in Vegas for work.
So far this year I...
1. Have gotten a promotion at said job.
2. Have done my first endurance rally (1000 miles in 24 hours)
3. Have made plans and movements to pay down my student loans, and make future financial goals and framework
4. Have been to Italy and Beijing
Yesterday I...
1. Got my credit report, requested an account number change to help avoid identity theft, and saved $400 on insurance by dropping collision.
2. petted the cats
3. Baked cookies (not very successfully)
4. Missed Charles
Today I...
1. Spent an hour on the phone with the idiots at customer service for polo.com (It’s a work thing.)
2. Split the bridge and 101 traffic on a nice sunny day on my SV, with new dirtbike bar setup.
3. Am falling madly for Paul
4. Will go to the Asian Art Museum.
Tomorrow I will...
1. Show up late to work, glad for the Friday
2. Make some sort of complaint about what’s going on or not going on for my birthday.
3. Ride to San Jose with Paul, to hang out with my family all weekend. (me with my mom, sister, and sister-in-law, him with my dad and brother)
4. Drink beer, or wine, or possibly cocktails, and give my sister hugs.
In the next year I will...
1. Pay down my student loans on schedule, and get a new computer
2. Go see the Isle of Man TT races
3. Fall madly for Paul, and consolidate our lives a little to make space for things we want to do.
4. Pet cats and sit in hammocks and drink cocktails with friends
20 years ago I...
1. Was 7.
2. Was changing schools and having no friends, again.
3. Was a Girl Scout
4. Thought I wanted to be a waitress when I grew up.
10 years ago I...
1. Was living in San Francisco, in my own apartment, at 17.
2. Spent most of my hours at school or doing homework
3. Thought I wanted to be a costume designer
4. Wore short skirts, big boots, striped tights, and spikes, almost exclusively.
5 years ago I...
1. Was working at my first full-time job in the apparel industry, at 22, which I was really enjoying at that time.
2. Was trying to get my first motorcycle back up and running, as I’d only just gotten it before it crapped out.
3. Was clubbing and socializing and sewing, a lot.
4. Could drink you under the table.
3 years ago I...
1. Was desperately trying to find a new job at 24 since a monstrous woman had been allowed to take over my department and run the company morale into the ground.
2. Was killing time with a not-especially-engaging ex.
3. Was riding motorcycles frequently, and spending lots of time with wonderful friends (Charles!) because of that.
4. Was working on buying my first NEW motorcycle.
1 year ago I...
1. Was working hard at the job that made me feel like an actual career-type-professional person, at 26.
2. Was falling madly for Paul
3. Was nursing the wounds from a pointless SV650 crash, after having ridden the damn thing to Seattle and back by myself with no problems.
4. Was going to my first trade show in Vegas for work.
So far this year I...
1. Have gotten a promotion at said job.
2. Have done my first endurance rally (1000 miles in 24 hours)
3. Have made plans and movements to pay down my student loans, and make future financial goals and framework
4. Have been to Italy and Beijing
Yesterday I...
1. Got my credit report, requested an account number change to help avoid identity theft, and saved $400 on insurance by dropping collision.
2. petted the cats
3. Baked cookies (not very successfully)
4. Missed Charles
Today I...
1. Spent an hour on the phone with the idiots at customer service for polo.com (It’s a work thing.)
2. Split the bridge and 101 traffic on a nice sunny day on my SV, with new dirtbike bar setup.
3. Am falling madly for Paul
4. Will go to the Asian Art Museum.
Tomorrow I will...
1. Show up late to work, glad for the Friday
2. Make some sort of complaint about what’s going on or not going on for my birthday.
3. Ride to San Jose with Paul, to hang out with my family all weekend. (me with my mom, sister, and sister-in-law, him with my dad and brother)
4. Drink beer, or wine, or possibly cocktails, and give my sister hugs.
In the next year I will...
1. Pay down my student loans on schedule, and get a new computer
2. Go see the Isle of Man TT races
3. Fall madly for Paul, and consolidate our lives a little to make space for things we want to do.
4. Pet cats and sit in hammocks and drink cocktails with friends
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
a joke my mom sent me a long time ago.
A squad of Marines drove up the highway between Basra and Baghdad.
They came upon an Iraqi soldier badly injured and unconscious. Nearby, on the opposite side of the road was an American soldier in a similar state, but he was alert.
As first aid was given to both soldiers, they asked the Marine what had happened.
The Marine responded, "I was heavily armed and moving north along the highway. Coming south was a heavily armed Iraqi soldier".
"What happened then?" the corpsman asked.
"I told him that Saddam Hussein was a miserable piece of crap. Then the Iraqi told me that George W. Bush, Dick Cheney and Tom DeLay were miserable pieces of crap."
"We were shaking hands when the truck hit us."
They came upon an Iraqi soldier badly injured and unconscious. Nearby, on the opposite side of the road was an American soldier in a similar state, but he was alert.
As first aid was given to both soldiers, they asked the Marine what had happened.
The Marine responded, "I was heavily armed and moving north along the highway. Coming south was a heavily armed Iraqi soldier".
"What happened then?" the corpsman asked.
"I told him that Saddam Hussein was a miserable piece of crap. Then the Iraqi told me that George W. Bush, Dick Cheney and Tom DeLay were miserable pieces of crap."
"We were shaking hands when the truck hit us."
Packing Light
This weekend I made a big leap. Nothing is different now. But it was a big leap, a question, hard to say, but it came spewing out, in a moment, almost of its own accord.
I have a fairly stable life, and there are things that have been unchanging for over ten years. But now I’ve come to a point where I’m looking to make a big change. They always said you would “just know,” but it was very hard to believe. And then, one day, there it was, in front of me. Leaning on a car, looking very sexy, I might add.
So in the next six months or so, I’ll be making a change. But the last year or so had been a big change too. It’s not drastic feeling; it’s revolutionary but comfortable and wonderful. I’ve never been in the position to consider giving up my apartment before. If you’ve ever had rent control in SF, you know how serious this is.
I’ve lived in my apartment for over ten years now. Once it seemed very big, but then I acquired all this crap. It’s still a great apartment. It’s so central to everything. Saturday, Paul and I walked down to the Yerba Buena and saw the Maori exhibit there (very cool; it was mostly contemporary stuff) and then on the way back, ran into Chinese dragon dancing and kids doing martial arts/dance in Union Square. Tell me, in the suburbs, do you ever have that? When was the last time you “wandered” out and happened upon Maori people in loin cloths and then Chinese kids in dragon get-ups? Other days, we’ve had impromptu and slightly drunk architectural tours and stunning views of the Bay Area from some of the hotels here. I’m in an Irish bar, an hour from now, I’ll be in a tiki bar, then pop over to the Folk Art Museum on the way home. Watch out for the drag queens, some of them are really buffed and agro.
But I won’t live there forever.
I’m already pretty adept at packing light. I carried my all my luggage in Italy, as well as my mother’s, frequently. A weekend away on a bike means a small backpack, not a trunk full of shit. When I arrive in New York for the sales meeting, there’s usually, a “where are the REST of your bags?” No, this is it. I don’t have cable or TiVo. I don’t need a brand new cellphone. What I need is the friends I’ve kept, my bikes, and maybe some pie.
Now it’s time to look at the crap that has accumulated in my life, and toss it away. Make room for what’s next. Pack light, and your options stay open.
I have a fairly stable life, and there are things that have been unchanging for over ten years. But now I’ve come to a point where I’m looking to make a big change. They always said you would “just know,” but it was very hard to believe. And then, one day, there it was, in front of me. Leaning on a car, looking very sexy, I might add.
So in the next six months or so, I’ll be making a change. But the last year or so had been a big change too. It’s not drastic feeling; it’s revolutionary but comfortable and wonderful. I’ve never been in the position to consider giving up my apartment before. If you’ve ever had rent control in SF, you know how serious this is.
I’ve lived in my apartment for over ten years now. Once it seemed very big, but then I acquired all this crap. It’s still a great apartment. It’s so central to everything. Saturday, Paul and I walked down to the Yerba Buena and saw the Maori exhibit there (very cool; it was mostly contemporary stuff) and then on the way back, ran into Chinese dragon dancing and kids doing martial arts/dance in Union Square. Tell me, in the suburbs, do you ever have that? When was the last time you “wandered” out and happened upon Maori people in loin cloths and then Chinese kids in dragon get-ups? Other days, we’ve had impromptu and slightly drunk architectural tours and stunning views of the Bay Area from some of the hotels here. I’m in an Irish bar, an hour from now, I’ll be in a tiki bar, then pop over to the Folk Art Museum on the way home. Watch out for the drag queens, some of them are really buffed and agro.
But I won’t live there forever.
I’m already pretty adept at packing light. I carried my all my luggage in Italy, as well as my mother’s, frequently. A weekend away on a bike means a small backpack, not a trunk full of shit. When I arrive in New York for the sales meeting, there’s usually, a “where are the REST of your bags?” No, this is it. I don’t have cable or TiVo. I don’t need a brand new cellphone. What I need is the friends I’ve kept, my bikes, and maybe some pie.
Now it’s time to look at the crap that has accumulated in my life, and toss it away. Make room for what’s next. Pack light, and your options stay open.
Monday, August 08, 2005
The quickest way to put a girl in tears
Sometimes I have to go shopping for work. It’s a bit tricky, but I’ve got a bit of a routine, which works in department stores. I work for a menswear manufacturer, so I grab a bunch of women’s clothes too and duck into the dressing rooms to look at stuff a little closer, take notes, measure, or whatever. It’s a pain, and sometimes very awkward. And sometimes I end up with clothes for myself, which is bad. I don’t shop all that often for clothes. Clothes are overpriced, and I’d rather spend the money on motorcycles, mostly.
So that’s what I did Friday, left early to survey boys’ shorts, and ended up with some jeans for myself which I will probably take back since they aren’t perfect.
I’ve never bought anything at the GAP before. But I’ve been on the lookout for jeans for a while, and when I walked in to do work shopping, I saw that they were offering new fits. That’s great, since most stuff doesn’t fit me right.
Observations I have to make about jeans:
1.) Low Rise. Nobody likes High Rise, but Low Rise shouldn’t be very. Low, I mean. A couple years ago, I was in Express, and they were selling jeans with a 4 1/8” rise. OK, that’s pretty scandalous, right? Well, I know a few girls that could pull it off. But these jeans should not even be cut in sizes above 4 or maybe 6. Certainly this shouldn’t be mass marketed. When the Gap guy asked me how I felt about low rise, I was like, “how would you feel about selling me low rise? Would you feel like you’d done the world a disservice?” That was what I thought, I said “no, that wouldn’t look good on me.” Perhaps these sales people ought not ask girls what they want, they ought to say “You, ma’am, can have a low rise jean. YOU, can not.” And then, “I see that you are getting a low-ish rise jean. May I suggest that you actually buy the correct size? You know, instead of the one in your hand that is too small and will cause a fat-awning to lower over your ugly-ass belt. Just trying to help, and beautify the city.” Modern Day Heroes, they could be.
2.) Men’s pants come in inseam lengths by number of inches. Women are generally just stuck with one length for all. Sucks for jeans, which never look right when you hem them, on account of the wash. So, it was exciting to see Gap had different lengths. Funny, really, because I saw Long, and Regular. I asked the guy to help me find Short. “Oh, would you like Ankle?” he says. I look confused, and ask him, what is “Ankle?” “Ankle hits around the ankle.” WHAT does this mean? Am I to believe that Gap has formulated magic pants that grow or shorten depending on the height of the wearer? I’ve always wanted Magic Pants! The excitement was almost too much to bear. Call it what it is, dumbasses.
3.) I’m a very average woman. I’m about 5’6” or 5’5”, probably depending on how much slouching I’ve been doing at work lately. Actually, I’ve just learned that makes me taller than average. So here’s the thing: Short length, when offered, is usually just a touch long on me. Or in the case of the Gap jeans, just plain too long. I’d understand this if I were actually short, and trying to buy “Regular.” Hello, manufacturers: don’t bother with the lengths if you can’t get it right.
4.) Wash: I like that there are new options in wash, but I don’t like that most of them are crap. So here are a few ground rules:
a. “Whiskers”- no. This is fucking stupid. Say it outloud and ask yourself if it sounds good: “Crotch Whiskers.”
b. Pre-worn look washes. I see you are lightening the thigh area to give it a worn look. That’s OK in moderation, but when it looks like it’s been bleached, it also looks like you’ve just sat in something. No.
c. Holes- Holes. In new jeans. Stupid. So. Stupid. I want a discount.
5.) Flare: bad. Looks bad. Short and fat and bad. Unless maybe you are super skinny and tall, and then you just look like you have no style.
6.) Pockets: Yes, they are women’s clothes. But they are jeans, which means I intend to live in them. Give me some fucking pockets, and make them full-sized, jackass. It is not a prom dress. I do not have some sucker to follow me around carrying my stuff. Wait, maybe I do, but nevermind that. (To be fair, this wasn’t a problem with the Gap jeans. Rampage is a repeat offender here.)
This has been a public service announcement.
So that’s what I did Friday, left early to survey boys’ shorts, and ended up with some jeans for myself which I will probably take back since they aren’t perfect.
I’ve never bought anything at the GAP before. But I’ve been on the lookout for jeans for a while, and when I walked in to do work shopping, I saw that they were offering new fits. That’s great, since most stuff doesn’t fit me right.
Observations I have to make about jeans:
1.) Low Rise. Nobody likes High Rise, but Low Rise shouldn’t be very. Low, I mean. A couple years ago, I was in Express, and they were selling jeans with a 4 1/8” rise. OK, that’s pretty scandalous, right? Well, I know a few girls that could pull it off. But these jeans should not even be cut in sizes above 4 or maybe 6. Certainly this shouldn’t be mass marketed. When the Gap guy asked me how I felt about low rise, I was like, “how would you feel about selling me low rise? Would you feel like you’d done the world a disservice?” That was what I thought, I said “no, that wouldn’t look good on me.” Perhaps these sales people ought not ask girls what they want, they ought to say “You, ma’am, can have a low rise jean. YOU, can not.” And then, “I see that you are getting a low-ish rise jean. May I suggest that you actually buy the correct size? You know, instead of the one in your hand that is too small and will cause a fat-awning to lower over your ugly-ass belt. Just trying to help, and beautify the city.” Modern Day Heroes, they could be.
2.) Men’s pants come in inseam lengths by number of inches. Women are generally just stuck with one length for all. Sucks for jeans, which never look right when you hem them, on account of the wash. So, it was exciting to see Gap had different lengths. Funny, really, because I saw Long, and Regular. I asked the guy to help me find Short. “Oh, would you like Ankle?” he says. I look confused, and ask him, what is “Ankle?” “Ankle hits around the ankle.” WHAT does this mean? Am I to believe that Gap has formulated magic pants that grow or shorten depending on the height of the wearer? I’ve always wanted Magic Pants! The excitement was almost too much to bear. Call it what it is, dumbasses.
3.) I’m a very average woman. I’m about 5’6” or 5’5”, probably depending on how much slouching I’ve been doing at work lately. Actually, I’ve just learned that makes me taller than average. So here’s the thing: Short length, when offered, is usually just a touch long on me. Or in the case of the Gap jeans, just plain too long. I’d understand this if I were actually short, and trying to buy “Regular.” Hello, manufacturers: don’t bother with the lengths if you can’t get it right.
4.) Wash: I like that there are new options in wash, but I don’t like that most of them are crap. So here are a few ground rules:
a. “Whiskers”- no. This is fucking stupid. Say it outloud and ask yourself if it sounds good: “Crotch Whiskers.”
b. Pre-worn look washes. I see you are lightening the thigh area to give it a worn look. That’s OK in moderation, but when it looks like it’s been bleached, it also looks like you’ve just sat in something. No.
c. Holes- Holes. In new jeans. Stupid. So. Stupid. I want a discount.
5.) Flare: bad. Looks bad. Short and fat and bad. Unless maybe you are super skinny and tall, and then you just look like you have no style.
6.) Pockets: Yes, they are women’s clothes. But they are jeans, which means I intend to live in them. Give me some fucking pockets, and make them full-sized, jackass. It is not a prom dress. I do not have some sucker to follow me around carrying my stuff. Wait, maybe I do, but nevermind that. (To be fair, this wasn’t a problem with the Gap jeans. Rampage is a repeat offender here.)
This has been a public service announcement.
Friday, August 05, 2005
Survey says:
Another Survey. This one from Keith.
1. If you could trade places with one of your friends for a day, who would it be?
For one day? I’d like to give them all a try. But if I had to choose…
Maybe Steve. He’s bonkers and a genius, I’d like to see the world through his eyes for a day. Plus, I could, like piss out fires and stuff.
2. What were you doing at this time yesterday?
Working.
3. What will you be doing at this time tomorrow?
I hope sleeping.
4. In the past month, what was the best moment you had?
I’ve had a lot of moments:
Getting drunk and looking at fishies and penguins would be one.
Getting good and drunk at Zeitgeist with Paul and Mark and etc. was another.
Dinner with Paul for his birthday
The bendy-straw time at Charles’ birthday party.
But the BEST, was probably napping in the grass at Laguna Seca
5. When was the last time you were at a hospital?
When Dale dumped Joan’s BMW on a gravel road, and we waited in the emergency room for him to be seen. That was fun. Then we had martinis or something all night.
The last time I was in for ME, was a few years ago, when I discovered that codeine and me are un-mixy things.
6. What kind of car do you have?
Um. That’s the thing with the extra wheels and the giant waste of space, right? I have a few Hot Wheels. I have one that’s a little toilet car. That one’s real cute.
7. When was the last time you were taken advantage of?
Every time I pay my taxes, or get a speeding ticket. I feel pretty taken advantage of when my work makes me give up my weekend to travel too.
8. What do you take for granted?
That my parents will always be there to take care of me if I fail. Fortunately, I don’t use that. But I think it’s there.
9. What is the best thing about your job?
Travel.
10. How many times have you been rejected?
For, like, anything? I have no idea. Job searching, ex-boyfriends, schools, I don’t keep track of all that. I am happy where I am. I’ve been dumped a few times, my resumes have been ignored many times, and the Jesuits have never wanted me at their schools. Fuck the Jesuits.
11. Think of the last time you went out with friends. What was the best part of it?
Zeitgeist. Seeing Paul do his happy dance. Seeing a lot of people I rarely see. Beer.
12. What was the last movie you watched?
The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover. Peter Greenaway. Seen it a few times, love it every time. In the theater: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
(what happened to 13?)
14. In the near future, what are you most looking forward to?
Not going to work tomorrow. Gee, my life has really slowed down. Next big event is Vegas in November.
15. What do you dislike about your bedroom?
It’s a fucking pigsty. So, I guess I just wish it were, like four times as big, and had a garage attached to it.
16. Describe your morning routine.
No routine. It may involve toast and coffee, may involve stretching or doing core exercise, may involve catching up on email. Shower, toothbrush, etc of course. Then I try to beat my time for getting to work, if I’m running late. Sometimes I arrive at work and don’t remember the commute at all. Other times, I’m wide awake and lanesplitting.
17. What is one food you have never and will never try?
Seahorse. How sad.
18. How would you handle it if someone liked you but you weren't into them?
Get over it and move on. Like that’s never happened before. Fortunately, I’ve tricked the only one I want into wanting me back.
19. What was the last thing that got on your nerves?
Traffic light sensors.
20. What would your theme song be?
That’s a big commitment. Right now, it would be “Borrowed Time” by MDC. Or maybe “Motorbike,” which is mostly meaningless, by Sheep on Drugs.
21. Can people tell when you're upset?
Yes. I throw things, or get very quiet, acerbic, and decisive.
22. How much money did you spend yesterday?
Actual cashflow was zero. I suppose you could figure out a daily cost for rent, gas, insurance, depretiation of bikes, etc. But, I was drinking, and do not care.
23. Would you rather go to the doctor or the dentist?
I have no aversion to either. I miss my old doctor though.
24. Tattoos are?
Frequently just a different type of uniform. Worship your subculture!
25. How long would you have to date someone before you slept with them?
I don’t remember. I’m done with that.
26. Do you practice any form of religion?
No. I was raised Catholic, but I gave that up for Lent many years ago.
27. What is a special talent you have that most people don't know about?
Sometimes I can make weird noises with my eyeball. That really freaked Paul out I think.
28. Growing up, who did you have posters on the wall?
Iron Maiden! Oh yeah!
29. What is your favorite thing about summer?
I LOVE San Francisco on those very few warm summer nights we get. I also love watching the fog roll in, and not having to carry rain gear.
30. What do you think of the person who posted this survey before you?
Keith is nice; probably too nice. He needs to fix that damn dirtbike or stop talking about it.
1. If you could trade places with one of your friends for a day, who would it be?
For one day? I’d like to give them all a try. But if I had to choose…
Maybe Steve. He’s bonkers and a genius, I’d like to see the world through his eyes for a day. Plus, I could, like piss out fires and stuff.
2. What were you doing at this time yesterday?
Working.
3. What will you be doing at this time tomorrow?
I hope sleeping.
4. In the past month, what was the best moment you had?
I’ve had a lot of moments:
Getting drunk and looking at fishies and penguins would be one.
Getting good and drunk at Zeitgeist with Paul and Mark and etc. was another.
Dinner with Paul for his birthday
The bendy-straw time at Charles’ birthday party.
But the BEST, was probably napping in the grass at Laguna Seca
5. When was the last time you were at a hospital?
When Dale dumped Joan’s BMW on a gravel road, and we waited in the emergency room for him to be seen. That was fun. Then we had martinis or something all night.
The last time I was in for ME, was a few years ago, when I discovered that codeine and me are un-mixy things.
6. What kind of car do you have?
Um. That’s the thing with the extra wheels and the giant waste of space, right? I have a few Hot Wheels. I have one that’s a little toilet car. That one’s real cute.
7. When was the last time you were taken advantage of?
Every time I pay my taxes, or get a speeding ticket. I feel pretty taken advantage of when my work makes me give up my weekend to travel too.
8. What do you take for granted?
That my parents will always be there to take care of me if I fail. Fortunately, I don’t use that. But I think it’s there.
9. What is the best thing about your job?
Travel.
10. How many times have you been rejected?
For, like, anything? I have no idea. Job searching, ex-boyfriends, schools, I don’t keep track of all that. I am happy where I am. I’ve been dumped a few times, my resumes have been ignored many times, and the Jesuits have never wanted me at their schools. Fuck the Jesuits.
11. Think of the last time you went out with friends. What was the best part of it?
Zeitgeist. Seeing Paul do his happy dance. Seeing a lot of people I rarely see. Beer.
12. What was the last movie you watched?
The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover. Peter Greenaway. Seen it a few times, love it every time. In the theater: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
(what happened to 13?)
14. In the near future, what are you most looking forward to?
Not going to work tomorrow. Gee, my life has really slowed down. Next big event is Vegas in November.
15. What do you dislike about your bedroom?
It’s a fucking pigsty. So, I guess I just wish it were, like four times as big, and had a garage attached to it.
16. Describe your morning routine.
No routine. It may involve toast and coffee, may involve stretching or doing core exercise, may involve catching up on email. Shower, toothbrush, etc of course. Then I try to beat my time for getting to work, if I’m running late. Sometimes I arrive at work and don’t remember the commute at all. Other times, I’m wide awake and lanesplitting.
17. What is one food you have never and will never try?
Seahorse. How sad.
18. How would you handle it if someone liked you but you weren't into them?
Get over it and move on. Like that’s never happened before. Fortunately, I’ve tricked the only one I want into wanting me back.
19. What was the last thing that got on your nerves?
Traffic light sensors.
20. What would your theme song be?
That’s a big commitment. Right now, it would be “Borrowed Time” by MDC. Or maybe “Motorbike,” which is mostly meaningless, by Sheep on Drugs.
21. Can people tell when you're upset?
Yes. I throw things, or get very quiet, acerbic, and decisive.
22. How much money did you spend yesterday?
Actual cashflow was zero. I suppose you could figure out a daily cost for rent, gas, insurance, depretiation of bikes, etc. But, I was drinking, and do not care.
23. Would you rather go to the doctor or the dentist?
I have no aversion to either. I miss my old doctor though.
24. Tattoos are?
Frequently just a different type of uniform. Worship your subculture!
25. How long would you have to date someone before you slept with them?
I don’t remember. I’m done with that.
26. Do you practice any form of religion?
No. I was raised Catholic, but I gave that up for Lent many years ago.
27. What is a special talent you have that most people don't know about?
Sometimes I can make weird noises with my eyeball. That really freaked Paul out I think.
28. Growing up, who did you have posters on the wall?
Iron Maiden! Oh yeah!
29. What is your favorite thing about summer?
I LOVE San Francisco on those very few warm summer nights we get. I also love watching the fog roll in, and not having to carry rain gear.
30. What do you think of the person who posted this survey before you?
Keith is nice; probably too nice. He needs to fix that damn dirtbike or stop talking about it.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
13 minutes!
So Paul and I went to a place called Medjool on Monday. It was for Paul’s birthday, and he didn’t want a party. Well, actually, we had a HUGE party, and we just didn’t invite YOU.
Medjool has a wonderful rooftop bar, with a really nice view of SF. I recommend the rooftop bar.
The restaurant is a nice space, but I thought the food was a little lacking. My first complaint was that they told us it was a “tapas” restaurant. OK, “tapas” is Spanish. This was a Mediterranean restaurant. I understand “tapas” are more trendy, but it seems insulting that they wouldn’t just call it what it is--“mezas.” I don’t call burritos “sandwiches” or pad thai “pasta.” Asparagus was great, and the vegetable and goat cheese pastry was good. Hummus was so-so, and that’s my test for any Mediterranean restaurant. Nice dining experience, food is so-so. Love the chandelier. Overall: a nice place, good for rooftop drinks, perhaps a nibble and dessert in the restaurant.
We watched Outfoxed on Saturday. This movie is interesting to me because I don’t have cable, so I’ve never watched Bill O’Reilly or any of these other folks. That part of it was definitely eye-opening; just watching a montage of a supposed news-figure telling loads of “guests” to “shut-up” sort of speaks for itself. A few interesting statistics about what FOX-watchers believe (for instance, that something like 80% of them think we’ve found WMD in Iraq!), but then, I know how easy it is to lie with statistics. I would have found the whole thing a lot more believable had it been made with higher production values, some back-up material (I am not interested in what “anonymous” has to say unless you can give me a reasonable fact-check or some proof of his reliability), and oh, perhaps a little balance? It’s a little ridiculous to make a movie, slamming the propaganda of FOX, which feels so very propaganda-like itself. Which sucks, because I pretty much think they are right. I just wish a more professional movie had been made. It kind of makes us look stupid.
Instead, see this:
Control Room
I found this movie really interesting. In particular, watch the out-takes part too. Great movie.
I’m trying to streamline my life and get rid of the shit that’s just left-over from a different me. I’ve finally concluded that I no longer sew. As such, I’m going to get rid of almost all of my fabric. I have a shit-load. Seriously. Together with the rest of the crap I need to unload, it’s totally garage-sale worthy. But I don’t have a garage. I’m too stupid to ebay (I wouldn’t know where to begin with shipping). I need to figure something out here. But, yeah, books, clothes, art supplies, bike parts, fabrics, and some other random shit, need to find new owners. I need the cash, so if I can figure out how to sell it, it’s gone.
I think I’ve finally found my handlebars. We’ll see this weekend. Again. (sigh)
Yesterday I made it to work in 13 minutes. Now tell me how cool your Explorer/Navigator/Yukon/Murano is, bitches!
And now, a photograph that has nothing to do with any of this, just because I am testing the blog photo feature:
This image is an old favorite. This is what happens when you run over a tiny crack in the pavement on an SV650, wearing Alpinestars winter gloves, at low speed. That is my hand just over a year ago.
Medjool has a wonderful rooftop bar, with a really nice view of SF. I recommend the rooftop bar.
The restaurant is a nice space, but I thought the food was a little lacking. My first complaint was that they told us it was a “tapas” restaurant. OK, “tapas” is Spanish. This was a Mediterranean restaurant. I understand “tapas” are more trendy, but it seems insulting that they wouldn’t just call it what it is--“mezas.” I don’t call burritos “sandwiches” or pad thai “pasta.” Asparagus was great, and the vegetable and goat cheese pastry was good. Hummus was so-so, and that’s my test for any Mediterranean restaurant. Nice dining experience, food is so-so. Love the chandelier. Overall: a nice place, good for rooftop drinks, perhaps a nibble and dessert in the restaurant.
We watched Outfoxed on Saturday. This movie is interesting to me because I don’t have cable, so I’ve never watched Bill O’Reilly or any of these other folks. That part of it was definitely eye-opening; just watching a montage of a supposed news-figure telling loads of “guests” to “shut-up” sort of speaks for itself. A few interesting statistics about what FOX-watchers believe (for instance, that something like 80% of them think we’ve found WMD in Iraq!), but then, I know how easy it is to lie with statistics. I would have found the whole thing a lot more believable had it been made with higher production values, some back-up material (I am not interested in what “anonymous” has to say unless you can give me a reasonable fact-check or some proof of his reliability), and oh, perhaps a little balance? It’s a little ridiculous to make a movie, slamming the propaganda of FOX, which feels so very propaganda-like itself. Which sucks, because I pretty much think they are right. I just wish a more professional movie had been made. It kind of makes us look stupid.
Instead, see this:
Control Room
I found this movie really interesting. In particular, watch the out-takes part too. Great movie.
I’m trying to streamline my life and get rid of the shit that’s just left-over from a different me. I’ve finally concluded that I no longer sew. As such, I’m going to get rid of almost all of my fabric. I have a shit-load. Seriously. Together with the rest of the crap I need to unload, it’s totally garage-sale worthy. But I don’t have a garage. I’m too stupid to ebay (I wouldn’t know where to begin with shipping). I need to figure something out here. But, yeah, books, clothes, art supplies, bike parts, fabrics, and some other random shit, need to find new owners. I need the cash, so if I can figure out how to sell it, it’s gone.
I think I’ve finally found my handlebars. We’ll see this weekend. Again. (sigh)
Yesterday I made it to work in 13 minutes. Now tell me how cool your Explorer/Navigator/Yukon/Murano is, bitches!
And now, a photograph that has nothing to do with any of this, just because I am testing the blog photo feature:
This image is an old favorite. This is what happens when you run over a tiny crack in the pavement on an SV650, wearing Alpinestars winter gloves, at low speed. That is my hand just over a year ago.
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September 02, 2005 3:51 PM
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