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.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
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.
Monday, August 01, 2005
I know for a fact I’m getting old
Sometimes I think wistfully about the old days of getting dressed up, going out, drinking, maybe dancing. And then occasionally I get off my ass and go drinking, and within twelve hours I know why I stopped. Oh, I was once quite a drinker. I have no idea how many shots I’d do at the bar while nursing a Long Island Iced Tea in the other hand. And then the flask of warm jager or vodka I sometimes carried…
I think I had three drinks on Friday, plus a beer earlier, and felt kind of shitty Saturday. Not an actual hangover, but I got a very late and bumpy start. Ugh. Screw that.
Cat Club Friday was only saved by the fact that the electricity went out and saved us from a couple of hours more of Hanson and Spice Girls and the horrid crowd that had filed into the bar. In the dark, the scary people left and it was just a few of us left to talk in a normal (not yelling) range and catch up by candlelight. Nice, but I still hated losing most of Saturday.
We finally did get our shit together on Saturday and go down to the Apple store downtown. Which was fun, because I’m actually interested in buying a new computer, for the first time in many years. I can’t really afford this, so I’m going el-cheapo. That means the 12” Ibook, almost certainly. I asked a few questions of the various Apple employees and didn’t really like their answers, but whatever. I’m sure they were stupid questions, but that’s what they’re paid for. It’s not my job to know this shit; that’s why they get paid, and I don’t look at them like idiots for not knowing what seam is sewed first in a pair of pants.
Anyway.
I asked about the monitor hook-up capabilities, and the girl told me that of course I could hook it up to a monitor on my desk. Well, actually, she said, only a regular monitor. Not a digital monitor, so not, like, an Apple monitor, she said. Um. I have no idea. But I think it’s kindof dumb that Apple wouldn’t sell a monitor that could be used with this machine. So is Apple stupid, or did the girl not know what she was talking about?
Upstairs, I saw that some of the software being sold listed a PowerMac as a system requirement. I understand that the Ibook isn’t made for, like, video editing, but I am surprised to be led to believe that it can’t run a Rand McNally map software package. Also saw this listed on a few games and things, and my guess (Paul’s guess) was that it would really have more to do with the processor power/size whatever, and that the listings were just lazy or vague. So I asked. “Is there software over there that can’t be run on the Ibook? I see that some of the boxes list PowerMac under system requirements, and I’m just wondering if that’s correct, or if the new Ibooks could handle that stuff.” Besides, like video editing. I was told “It’s listed on all the boxes what each one requires.” No shit. But is it true? I mean, if that’s the case, you’re telling me the Ibook can’t open fucking MAPS? So is Apple stupid, or did the guy not know what he was talking about?
Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE Apple. I’m brand loyal if for no other reason than habit. I don’t know why I don’t want a PC, I just don’t. I want a Mac. It’s what I’ve always had. I’m just saying, they weren’t being very Rebecca-friendly at the store. I’m an idiot. Please steer me in the right direction. That’s the selling point of the Mac, and the Apple Store, isn’t it? User-friendly, Geek Bar, and all that?
Regardless of all that, I did leave pretty happy and excited about getting an Ibook (eventually. I’m trying to delay my purchase a few months.)
For now, I need to stay away from nights at the Cat Club, since they cost too much in time and money.
I think I had three drinks on Friday, plus a beer earlier, and felt kind of shitty Saturday. Not an actual hangover, but I got a very late and bumpy start. Ugh. Screw that.
Cat Club Friday was only saved by the fact that the electricity went out and saved us from a couple of hours more of Hanson and Spice Girls and the horrid crowd that had filed into the bar. In the dark, the scary people left and it was just a few of us left to talk in a normal (not yelling) range and catch up by candlelight. Nice, but I still hated losing most of Saturday.
We finally did get our shit together on Saturday and go down to the Apple store downtown. Which was fun, because I’m actually interested in buying a new computer, for the first time in many years. I can’t really afford this, so I’m going el-cheapo. That means the 12” Ibook, almost certainly. I asked a few questions of the various Apple employees and didn’t really like their answers, but whatever. I’m sure they were stupid questions, but that’s what they’re paid for. It’s not my job to know this shit; that’s why they get paid, and I don’t look at them like idiots for not knowing what seam is sewed first in a pair of pants.
Anyway.
I asked about the monitor hook-up capabilities, and the girl told me that of course I could hook it up to a monitor on my desk. Well, actually, she said, only a regular monitor. Not a digital monitor, so not, like, an Apple monitor, she said. Um. I have no idea. But I think it’s kindof dumb that Apple wouldn’t sell a monitor that could be used with this machine. So is Apple stupid, or did the girl not know what she was talking about?
Upstairs, I saw that some of the software being sold listed a PowerMac as a system requirement. I understand that the Ibook isn’t made for, like, video editing, but I am surprised to be led to believe that it can’t run a Rand McNally map software package. Also saw this listed on a few games and things, and my guess (Paul’s guess) was that it would really have more to do with the processor power/size whatever, and that the listings were just lazy or vague. So I asked. “Is there software over there that can’t be run on the Ibook? I see that some of the boxes list PowerMac under system requirements, and I’m just wondering if that’s correct, or if the new Ibooks could handle that stuff.” Besides, like video editing. I was told “It’s listed on all the boxes what each one requires.” No shit. But is it true? I mean, if that’s the case, you’re telling me the Ibook can’t open fucking MAPS? So is Apple stupid, or did the guy not know what he was talking about?
Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE Apple. I’m brand loyal if for no other reason than habit. I don’t know why I don’t want a PC, I just don’t. I want a Mac. It’s what I’ve always had. I’m just saying, they weren’t being very Rebecca-friendly at the store. I’m an idiot. Please steer me in the right direction. That’s the selling point of the Mac, and the Apple Store, isn’t it? User-friendly, Geek Bar, and all that?
Regardless of all that, I did leave pretty happy and excited about getting an Ibook (eventually. I’m trying to delay my purchase a few months.)
For now, I need to stay away from nights at the Cat Club, since they cost too much in time and money.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
I can see into my future: broken computer, lots of ramen noodles
I’ve been talking about wanting to get a new computer since they introduced the Mini Macs a few months ago. Now, I really always figured I’m too poor to buy a new computer, but now that the G3 is about 8 years old, it’s been getting a little more pressing. Last night, I thought the monitor had finally given up the ghost. The screen went wonky and just black with a vertical line in the middle, and a squeaky/screechy noise. I restarted it, and it came up with really crappy resolution, and wouldn’t offer any other resolution options. I turned it off, came back later, and it’s back to normal. It’s been making weird little flashes for a while, but I’m just not ready to see it go.
I suspect I’ll need to replace it soon (yeah, I know it’s already way outdated, but I’m a cheap bastard) but as far as I can tell, that’s gonna cost about $1000. Which I don’t have. Well, I do, but that’s not what it’s for.
Financially, my goal right now is to pay down my student loan, and save up for a trip to Isle of Man. Which is getting towards not-possible, since the time is rolling around, and I still have no frame of reference, no concept of a ballpark on the cost. I’m afraid by the time it becomes clear, it will be too late to put any money into it.
I was going through my papers last night and as far as I can tell, I haven’t paid off any of my student loan. This is shit. So that’s the new focus.
Other goals:
Long Term:
Pay off my student loans- best I can guess is that this might take ten years. That sucks, and I need to find a better way.
Invest a lot more in my 401K—can’t happen until after the loan is gone. That sucks too.
More travel-- Australia sounds interesting, as does Spain, Italy, pretty much anywhere…
Mid-Term:
Isle of Man, Ireland trip-- needs planning, starting with dates, then ferry reservations, hotel/camping reservations, and airline reservations. Transportation in Ireland means finding a bike rental (not easy from what I’m hearing) or learning to drive a car.
Begin learning Mandarin—Paul and I plan to take a city college class this Fall
Christmas—wouldn’t it be nice to actually make instead of buy? Yeah, like that will happen!
More dirt riding!—It’s too hot right now, but it seems like we are close to finally having all the components needed to get our bikes into the dirt. The Sheetiron is non-negotiable. So preparation would be good, when the weather calms down.
Endurocross in Vegas-- Event tickets are already purchased, need to book hotel + air. It's the weekend of November 19th, promises to be a lot of fun, and we'd love more company.
Short-Term:
Clean out the shit in my apartment. Realistically, I do not sew any more. It’s sad, but there’s an entire room in my apartment FULL of fabric. I have been loathe to give up all my old stuff, wishing that were still something I had the time, space, and talent for.
And the old bike parts, and the new ones I can’t use, and some clothes, and some books, and some art supplies. Perhaps I ought to make a list of crap and see if anyone I know wants it.
Finish the SV650 project: the bars are not in yet (“sometime this week”) and I need to order gaiters. The scottoiler ought to go on or away.
More micro-movements on what I think matters—I’m killing the MBNA account, on account of, MBNA is the devil. I’m telling the favorite clothing retailer to shove it until their political contributions either go away, or become more representative of the world I want to live in. I’m thanking my bike insurer for being a big Blue contributer. I’m sending Boxer a note now and then. I want to tell Wells Fargo what I think of their new bullshit security service. (where the customer has to pay to monitor THEIR security fuckups!) What’s next…
I used to have a little quote that my mom had left in my Palm Pilot when she handed it over to me, that said something about “ Long term goals are never realized because they never have top priority.” Something like that. What are you doing to make things happen?
I suspect I’ll need to replace it soon (yeah, I know it’s already way outdated, but I’m a cheap bastard) but as far as I can tell, that’s gonna cost about $1000. Which I don’t have. Well, I do, but that’s not what it’s for.
Financially, my goal right now is to pay down my student loan, and save up for a trip to Isle of Man. Which is getting towards not-possible, since the time is rolling around, and I still have no frame of reference, no concept of a ballpark on the cost. I’m afraid by the time it becomes clear, it will be too late to put any money into it.
I was going through my papers last night and as far as I can tell, I haven’t paid off any of my student loan. This is shit. So that’s the new focus.
Other goals:
Long Term:
Pay off my student loans- best I can guess is that this might take ten years. That sucks, and I need to find a better way.
Invest a lot more in my 401K—can’t happen until after the loan is gone. That sucks too.
More travel-- Australia sounds interesting, as does Spain, Italy, pretty much anywhere…
Mid-Term:
Isle of Man, Ireland trip-- needs planning, starting with dates, then ferry reservations, hotel/camping reservations, and airline reservations. Transportation in Ireland means finding a bike rental (not easy from what I’m hearing) or learning to drive a car.
Begin learning Mandarin—Paul and I plan to take a city college class this Fall
Christmas—wouldn’t it be nice to actually make instead of buy? Yeah, like that will happen!
More dirt riding!—It’s too hot right now, but it seems like we are close to finally having all the components needed to get our bikes into the dirt. The Sheetiron is non-negotiable. So preparation would be good, when the weather calms down.
Endurocross in Vegas-- Event tickets are already purchased, need to book hotel + air. It's the weekend of November 19th, promises to be a lot of fun, and we'd love more company.
Short-Term:
Clean out the shit in my apartment. Realistically, I do not sew any more. It’s sad, but there’s an entire room in my apartment FULL of fabric. I have been loathe to give up all my old stuff, wishing that were still something I had the time, space, and talent for.
And the old bike parts, and the new ones I can’t use, and some clothes, and some books, and some art supplies. Perhaps I ought to make a list of crap and see if anyone I know wants it.
Finish the SV650 project: the bars are not in yet (“sometime this week”) and I need to order gaiters. The scottoiler ought to go on or away.
More micro-movements on what I think matters—I’m killing the MBNA account, on account of, MBNA is the devil. I’m telling the favorite clothing retailer to shove it until their political contributions either go away, or become more representative of the world I want to live in. I’m thanking my bike insurer for being a big Blue contributer. I’m sending Boxer a note now and then. I want to tell Wells Fargo what I think of their new bullshit security service. (where the customer has to pay to monitor THEIR security fuckups!) What’s next…
I used to have a little quote that my mom had left in my Palm Pilot when she handed it over to me, that said something about “ Long term goals are never realized because they never have top priority.” Something like that. What are you doing to make things happen?
Monday, July 25, 2005
Take this bar and shove it.
The one modification I always said I wanted to make to the SV, from the time I bought it, was dirtbike bars. Maybe, I thought, if there were anything I’d change, it would be that. Well, two crashes later, I’ve bent two pairs of bars (one of which I’ve just been riding with despite the bend, for the past several months) and purchased two different replacement bars which ended up being a waste.
First off, (attempt #1: ProTapers, earlier this year) you can’t just buy bars you like and hack them down to the desired width. There isn’t enough space on the un-bent portion to allow that, and still put the controls on.
Secondly, (attempt #2: Renthals, this past week) you probably can’t put dirtbike bars on at all, even if they are an acceptable width to begin with, because there won’t be enough room for your controls. Dirtbikes have less shit on the bars, and the bars are made for that.
Apparently, there are a few bars (since ProTaper and Renthal each make about a million different styles of dirtbike bars) that may work, because there were a lot of people telling me that it was easy, just go buy some dirtbike bars you like, and throw them on. Not that easy!
Got really pissed off about this on Saturday, after realizing that I’d thrown more money away on this fucking project. How did everyone else do it so easily?
Found a cool shop in SF, that has Renthal streetfighter bars. These ought to fit, since theoretically, they are purpose made for streetbikes with streetbike controls. And if I need longer cables, they can help me with that, too. They will get a new shipment of bars this Tuesday, and I will try it out. If it does not work, it’s back to the bent bars, permanently, $300 later, and with nothing to show.
Then barkbusters (already have them, so I hope this works) and gaiters (not purchased yet), and it will be just as I want it. Then someone will steal it. Yay.
First off, (attempt #1: ProTapers, earlier this year) you can’t just buy bars you like and hack them down to the desired width. There isn’t enough space on the un-bent portion to allow that, and still put the controls on.
Secondly, (attempt #2: Renthals, this past week) you probably can’t put dirtbike bars on at all, even if they are an acceptable width to begin with, because there won’t be enough room for your controls. Dirtbikes have less shit on the bars, and the bars are made for that.
Apparently, there are a few bars (since ProTaper and Renthal each make about a million different styles of dirtbike bars) that may work, because there were a lot of people telling me that it was easy, just go buy some dirtbike bars you like, and throw them on. Not that easy!
Got really pissed off about this on Saturday, after realizing that I’d thrown more money away on this fucking project. How did everyone else do it so easily?
Found a cool shop in SF, that has Renthal streetfighter bars. These ought to fit, since theoretically, they are purpose made for streetbikes with streetbike controls. And if I need longer cables, they can help me with that, too. They will get a new shipment of bars this Tuesday, and I will try it out. If it does not work, it’s back to the bent bars, permanently, $300 later, and with nothing to show.
Then barkbusters (already have them, so I hope this works) and gaiters (not purchased yet), and it will be just as I want it. Then someone will steal it. Yay.
All We Need is Eight Tiny Reindeer
Last night I slept very lightly. Every little noise had me waking up and waiting, silently, for the cat door to open. Nothing. What a disappointment. I was promised a visit by a raccoon, and NOTHING.
Berkeley is some sort of wild animal park. These are the characters from this weekend:
1.) Fang. A really loud, fat, cranky, one-eyed cat.
2.) Squeeky. The big stupid boy kitty that lives downstairs. Will put up with any manner of ill treatment for attention.
3.) Fluffy. The little girl kitty downstairs. Scared of her own shadow.
4.) Possum. Ran into the open garage just as we were finished with the downstairs cats. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought it was a giant rat. Just moments earlier, and we could have kept it out of the garage. Possums are really really dumb, but I think they are cute.
5.) Lurking raccoon. In the bushes a few blocks from Paul’s house. Very interactive and curious, but I did eventually scare it off.
6.) Another possum. In the flowers at the house around the corner.
7.) The slutty cat. Lives around the corner, is ridiculously friendly. Threateningly so, almost. She jumps up on you and spastically vies for attention. Also a brawler, when the 3 ½ legged next-door cat comes out.
8.) Mr. Peepers. The diabolical raccoon, who has figured out to break into houses.
No squirrels this weekend, didn’t see the hawk that’s frequently sitting on the telephone poles pooping and squeeking. (I’m just glad the hawk hasn’t been breaking in. The pooping on my bikes is enough trouble.)
So every so often, Paul (and sometimes with me) will come home and find a mess left behind by Mr. Peepers. Cat food, gone. Water, gone, but half splashed out on the floor (Mr. Peepers likes to wash his hands) Muddy raccoon prints everywhere. All over the kitchen, even a few on the refrigerator, and one time, even on the bed. (cute.) Downstairs at the other cats’ food area: same story. It’s funny (like when we could see that the cat had fallen into the toilet because Mr. Peepers trashed her water) and impressive (this raccoon is really smart, to have figured all this out), but it needs to STOP. Mr. Peepers, if you’re reading this, PLEASE stop. Getting hit with a beer bottle a few times didn’t seem to deter him.
I desperately wanted to see this in action, but he’s never come by when I was there. I felt like a kid at Christams, waiting for the noises at the chimney, or cat door, or whatever. Oh, I know, Mr. Peepers can't come unless you're all tucked into bed sleeping, but I get so excited.
I have seen the aftermath, and it’s quite hilarious. But it needs to stop, because the cats could get hurt. Mr. Peepers must be getting awfully big from all the cat food, after all.
Berkeley is some sort of wild animal park. These are the characters from this weekend:
1.) Fang. A really loud, fat, cranky, one-eyed cat.
2.) Squeeky. The big stupid boy kitty that lives downstairs. Will put up with any manner of ill treatment for attention.
3.) Fluffy. The little girl kitty downstairs. Scared of her own shadow.
4.) Possum. Ran into the open garage just as we were finished with the downstairs cats. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought it was a giant rat. Just moments earlier, and we could have kept it out of the garage. Possums are really really dumb, but I think they are cute.
5.) Lurking raccoon. In the bushes a few blocks from Paul’s house. Very interactive and curious, but I did eventually scare it off.
6.) Another possum. In the flowers at the house around the corner.
7.) The slutty cat. Lives around the corner, is ridiculously friendly. Threateningly so, almost. She jumps up on you and spastically vies for attention. Also a brawler, when the 3 ½ legged next-door cat comes out.
8.) Mr. Peepers. The diabolical raccoon, who has figured out to break into houses.
No squirrels this weekend, didn’t see the hawk that’s frequently sitting on the telephone poles pooping and squeeking. (I’m just glad the hawk hasn’t been breaking in. The pooping on my bikes is enough trouble.)
So every so often, Paul (and sometimes with me) will come home and find a mess left behind by Mr. Peepers. Cat food, gone. Water, gone, but half splashed out on the floor (Mr. Peepers likes to wash his hands) Muddy raccoon prints everywhere. All over the kitchen, even a few on the refrigerator, and one time, even on the bed. (cute.) Downstairs at the other cats’ food area: same story. It’s funny (like when we could see that the cat had fallen into the toilet because Mr. Peepers trashed her water) and impressive (this raccoon is really smart, to have figured all this out), but it needs to STOP. Mr. Peepers, if you’re reading this, PLEASE stop. Getting hit with a beer bottle a few times didn’t seem to deter him.
I desperately wanted to see this in action, but he’s never come by when I was there. I felt like a kid at Christams, waiting for the noises at the chimney, or cat door, or whatever. Oh, I know, Mr. Peepers can't come unless you're all tucked into bed sleeping, but I get so excited.
I have seen the aftermath, and it’s quite hilarious. But it needs to stop, because the cats could get hurt. Mr. Peepers must be getting awfully big from all the cat food, after all.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Indian Tiki Penguin Goodness
This weekend was pretty great. Friday we wandered around drinking. I finally saw the Starlight Room, but did not go inside (pay? To hang out with those guidos? Uh-uh) And I guess there were other bars and things.
Saturday was totally productive. We went bike-stuff shopping, got a lot of shit we needed, and then went back and changed the oil on four bikes. (All the running bikes. Done) Then started drinking again. There’s a kick-ass Indian place in Berkeley near the Lanesplitter, called Priya. I cannot get enough of this place. One time I saw a cockroach on the wall next to our table, which Paul was nice enough to brush away so I didn’t have to look at it while I was eating. I HATE cockroaches, but I’m not stupid. I know they are everywhere, this restaurant included. I keep eating there. It is SO GOOD. I crave it while I’m at work.
Saturday got better and better, as on the way home, we found the Templebar OPEN. OPEN. We’ve been trying to go back to this place for about a year, and it’s never open. Sometimes the lights are on, but then you get all excited only to find out that the doors are locked. Evil evil shit. Because this is THE coolest bar ever. Tiki at it’s finest. Not in a kitschy way, at least not too purposefully. Not hipster and kitsch. An honest-to-goodness Hawaiian outpost of tiki. The first time we were in, there was a tiki band (with ukes and singing and all that) and the place was fairly crowded. And the people were having a great time and even singing along and dancing in the aisle. Seriously. The bar is a beautiful giant wood thing, and the staff is like three generations of Hawaiian family, from the old guy with the white pompadour to the young lady making the drinks. The drinks? Fabulous blended rummy things with cherries and umbrellas, some in tiki mugs, some not, for CHEAP. I cannot say enough about this place, except that it is NEVER open. So the guy tells me they’re open only Friday and Saturday 5:30-9. (It’s also a restaurant) But they also open at 3 on the first Sunday of the month for some Hawaiian open mic/band/drink festival. They won’t be there for August because there’s a festival in SF that day (at which his band is performing) but, omigod, I really want to go in September.
Then a walk and a drink at Spengers, which is kind of smelly and the bartender has silly facial hair.
Sunday was lazy and involved hiking around downtown SF drinking and stuff.
Monday I went and saw Eyeknife at the Elbo Room. It was great!
Last night we went to Third Thursday at the Academy of Sciences. The chocolate exhibit was so-so, but I had a great time getting drunk and looking at penguins and geckos.
This weekend I hope to get some more bike stuff done, drink some more, and cry a lot about Mark leaving Scuderia. Scuderia is one of the best shops in the City, but I am really going to miss having Mark there to entertain me and help me with my stupid bike shit.
Saturday was totally productive. We went bike-stuff shopping, got a lot of shit we needed, and then went back and changed the oil on four bikes. (All the running bikes. Done) Then started drinking again. There’s a kick-ass Indian place in Berkeley near the Lanesplitter, called Priya. I cannot get enough of this place. One time I saw a cockroach on the wall next to our table, which Paul was nice enough to brush away so I didn’t have to look at it while I was eating. I HATE cockroaches, but I’m not stupid. I know they are everywhere, this restaurant included. I keep eating there. It is SO GOOD. I crave it while I’m at work.
Saturday got better and better, as on the way home, we found the Templebar OPEN. OPEN. We’ve been trying to go back to this place for about a year, and it’s never open. Sometimes the lights are on, but then you get all excited only to find out that the doors are locked. Evil evil shit. Because this is THE coolest bar ever. Tiki at it’s finest. Not in a kitschy way, at least not too purposefully. Not hipster and kitsch. An honest-to-goodness Hawaiian outpost of tiki. The first time we were in, there was a tiki band (with ukes and singing and all that) and the place was fairly crowded. And the people were having a great time and even singing along and dancing in the aisle. Seriously. The bar is a beautiful giant wood thing, and the staff is like three generations of Hawaiian family, from the old guy with the white pompadour to the young lady making the drinks. The drinks? Fabulous blended rummy things with cherries and umbrellas, some in tiki mugs, some not, for CHEAP. I cannot say enough about this place, except that it is NEVER open. So the guy tells me they’re open only Friday and Saturday 5:30-9. (It’s also a restaurant) But they also open at 3 on the first Sunday of the month for some Hawaiian open mic/band/drink festival. They won’t be there for August because there’s a festival in SF that day (at which his band is performing) but, omigod, I really want to go in September.
Then a walk and a drink at Spengers, which is kind of smelly and the bartender has silly facial hair.
Sunday was lazy and involved hiking around downtown SF drinking and stuff.
Monday I went and saw Eyeknife at the Elbo Room. It was great!
Last night we went to Third Thursday at the Academy of Sciences. The chocolate exhibit was so-so, but I had a great time getting drunk and looking at penguins and geckos.
This weekend I hope to get some more bike stuff done, drink some more, and cry a lot about Mark leaving Scuderia. Scuderia is one of the best shops in the City, but I am really going to miss having Mark there to entertain me and help me with my stupid bike shit.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Silence is Golden, but watching movies in your underwear at home is even better
Last night we went and saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
I wanted to not want to see this movie, because I hate going to theaters these days.
Somehow, this seems to puzzle Hollywood: why don’t people want to go to the movies anymore?
1.) It’s too goddam expensive. $10 per ticket. That’s WAY too much, particularly considering #2
2.) You show me ads for like 15 minutes. When did this become OK? I’m not talking about movie trailers, that’s part of the fun of seeing movies in the theater. I’m talking about ads for cars, cellphones, financial services, soda, and the all-time worst: military recruitment. Excuse me? I just paid $10. So that should cover my not having to watch a fucking advertisement. Last I checked, advertisements were a way to subsidize entertainment to make it FREE (see: Television.) So you’re telling me that I ought to pay through the nose to watch commercials? No.
3.) Military advertisements get their own #. If you want to show me this garbage, show me an ad for the Peace Corps also. Or show me pictures of all the dead people our army made, or perhaps a montage of “where are they now” about veterans. Military ads are the worst of pathetic marketing aimed at stupid people. There may be good reason to join the military, but seeing a sensationalized ad in a movie theater is not one of them.
4.) People. This is really the main reason we’d all prefer to stay home, but unfortunately, it’s the one reason that Hollywood can’t easily address. Last night’s audience wasn’t bad, despite it being a little crowded for my tastes. (and despite the fact that the guy sitting next to me jabbed me in the ribs.) But talking, cellphones, people laughing too long and too loud, weird smelly food shit, people climbing in and out during the movie, and the jackass with the plastic bag he keeps rumpling, are the main reasons we don’t want to be in the theater.
5.) The movies mostly suck. By attempting to appeal to everyone, you’ve just bored everyone. I never saw the last two star wars movies, mainly because I didn’t want to pay $10 to sit through 2 hours of special effects and formulaic plotlines. I may be wrong; probably one day I’ll find out, through Netflix. I like a movie where everyone dies in the end. I want to be surprised and occasionally have to think. I want to see some talented art direction, set design, and costuming, I want to feel like I got something personal from the creators. I want to hot chicks and explosions too sometimes, but that’s not enough.
Charlie and the Chocolate factory was great. I don’t really like the remake-everything movement that’s going on in Hollywood right now, and I understand the resistance to this one in particular, being that the first was such a classic and all. But, the reason I wanted to see this after all, was, I suspected that this is the movie Tim Burton was born to make. I love Burton and he has hits and misses. This one is definitely a hit for him. I laughed. I did not cry, which is one of my pre-reqs for a *great* movie. Sappy and predictable, well, I mean, yeah, it IS Charlie and the Chocolate factory. But the musical numbers were OH-so-cool!
I wanted to not want to see this movie, because I hate going to theaters these days.
Somehow, this seems to puzzle Hollywood: why don’t people want to go to the movies anymore?
1.) It’s too goddam expensive. $10 per ticket. That’s WAY too much, particularly considering #2
2.) You show me ads for like 15 minutes. When did this become OK? I’m not talking about movie trailers, that’s part of the fun of seeing movies in the theater. I’m talking about ads for cars, cellphones, financial services, soda, and the all-time worst: military recruitment. Excuse me? I just paid $10. So that should cover my not having to watch a fucking advertisement. Last I checked, advertisements were a way to subsidize entertainment to make it FREE (see: Television.) So you’re telling me that I ought to pay through the nose to watch commercials? No.
3.) Military advertisements get their own #. If you want to show me this garbage, show me an ad for the Peace Corps also. Or show me pictures of all the dead people our army made, or perhaps a montage of “where are they now” about veterans. Military ads are the worst of pathetic marketing aimed at stupid people. There may be good reason to join the military, but seeing a sensationalized ad in a movie theater is not one of them.
4.) People. This is really the main reason we’d all prefer to stay home, but unfortunately, it’s the one reason that Hollywood can’t easily address. Last night’s audience wasn’t bad, despite it being a little crowded for my tastes. (and despite the fact that the guy sitting next to me jabbed me in the ribs.) But talking, cellphones, people laughing too long and too loud, weird smelly food shit, people climbing in and out during the movie, and the jackass with the plastic bag he keeps rumpling, are the main reasons we don’t want to be in the theater.
5.) The movies mostly suck. By attempting to appeal to everyone, you’ve just bored everyone. I never saw the last two star wars movies, mainly because I didn’t want to pay $10 to sit through 2 hours of special effects and formulaic plotlines. I may be wrong; probably one day I’ll find out, through Netflix. I like a movie where everyone dies in the end. I want to be surprised and occasionally have to think. I want to see some talented art direction, set design, and costuming, I want to feel like I got something personal from the creators. I want to hot chicks and explosions too sometimes, but that’s not enough.
Charlie and the Chocolate factory was great. I don’t really like the remake-everything movement that’s going on in Hollywood right now, and I understand the resistance to this one in particular, being that the first was such a classic and all. But, the reason I wanted to see this after all, was, I suspected that this is the movie Tim Burton was born to make. I love Burton and he has hits and misses. This one is definitely a hit for him. I laughed. I did not cry, which is one of my pre-reqs for a *great* movie. Sappy and predictable, well, I mean, yeah, it IS Charlie and the Chocolate factory. But the musical numbers were OH-so-cool!
Chainsaw murders and gettin' it on
Newsflash: There’s offensive content on the Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas disc.
“The Parents Television Council, another group that monitors sex and violence in the media, said it was pleased with the rating switch but called on Rockstar to voluntarily recall the game and offer refunds to anyone who purchased it.”
This is utterly fucking ridiculous. This game is nothing BUT offensive. I have it and love it.
The premise of this game is based on killing people and taking their money, picking up on girls, stealing cars, going to strip clubs, etc. That is all fine, but SEX? We just can’t handle that. If anything ought to offend us, shouldn’t it be all the violence? Sex is, after all, a completely natural thing, and it is the very thing that created these children we are somehow protecting. By allowing them to waste gang members and cops, with guns and chainsaws, but not allowing them to see sex.
I can’t see how these people could say this with a straight face. If anyone wants a refund because they’ve found out there’s sex in the game, these people oughtn’t to have the game in the first place. They certainly oughtn’t to have children. Anyone returning this game should return their kids too, because they clearly are shitty parents.
This ISN’T a game for children. If you are worried that your kid might see people getting it on, perhaps you ought to worry that your kid just killed a cop with a chainsaw, then went on a shooting rampage with a stolen motorcycle.
Go fuck yourselves, Parents Television Council. Go learn to parent, rather than blaming the entertainment industry for your shoddy parenting skills.
“The Parents Television Council, another group that monitors sex and violence in the media, said it was pleased with the rating switch but called on Rockstar to voluntarily recall the game and offer refunds to anyone who purchased it.”
This is utterly fucking ridiculous. This game is nothing BUT offensive. I have it and love it.
The premise of this game is based on killing people and taking their money, picking up on girls, stealing cars, going to strip clubs, etc. That is all fine, but SEX? We just can’t handle that. If anything ought to offend us, shouldn’t it be all the violence? Sex is, after all, a completely natural thing, and it is the very thing that created these children we are somehow protecting. By allowing them to waste gang members and cops, with guns and chainsaws, but not allowing them to see sex.
I can’t see how these people could say this with a straight face. If anyone wants a refund because they’ve found out there’s sex in the game, these people oughtn’t to have the game in the first place. They certainly oughtn’t to have children. Anyone returning this game should return their kids too, because they clearly are shitty parents.
This ISN’T a game for children. If you are worried that your kid might see people getting it on, perhaps you ought to worry that your kid just killed a cop with a chainsaw, then went on a shooting rampage with a stolen motorcycle.
Go fuck yourselves, Parents Television Council. Go learn to parent, rather than blaming the entertainment industry for your shoddy parenting skills.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Apartment-dwelling Musicians, suck my dick
Practicing scales on your guitar (or whatever) at 7 AM?!?!?!!?!?!?!
DIE DIE DIE
DIE DIE DIE
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
A song I sometimes sing in my helmet
Posting song lyrics is oh-so lame, perhaps, but sometimes I need to be reminded. Maybe you do too.
Borrowed Time(Dictor- MDC)
You learn a lot in this life
And a bunch you never need to know
Now you're late for a destination
That you didn't choose to go
Walk, run, skip, or fly
Just to hurry up and wait
You can worry if you want to
But it's all sealed in the hands of fate
Broken dreams, I'm living on borrowed time
And I don't want to see it all just slide away
Yes, I could be losing pieces of my mind
But I'm playing it hard 'til my last day
Deal me in another hand
See what the cards say today
Stay in the game until the last draw
Nowhere to go anyway
Learn your lessons well my friends
Live every day like it's your last
We could build a future together
But we can't change the past
Broken dreams, I'm living on borrowed time
And I don't want to see it all just slide away
Yes, I could be losing pieces of my mind
But I'm playing it hard 'til my last day
Just remember this my friends
It ain't the years, it's the miles
There'll be many difficult hurdles
Tribulations and their trials
Smell the flowers, listen to the wind
Don't just take up space
Sometimes you don't see me smiling
But I really do love this place
Broken dreams, I'm living on borrowed time
And I don't want to see it all just slide away
Yes, I could be losing pieces of my mind
But I'm playing it hard 'til my last day
Borrowed Time(Dictor- MDC)
You learn a lot in this life
And a bunch you never need to know
Now you're late for a destination
That you didn't choose to go
Walk, run, skip, or fly
Just to hurry up and wait
You can worry if you want to
But it's all sealed in the hands of fate
Broken dreams, I'm living on borrowed time
And I don't want to see it all just slide away
Yes, I could be losing pieces of my mind
But I'm playing it hard 'til my last day
Deal me in another hand
See what the cards say today
Stay in the game until the last draw
Nowhere to go anyway
Learn your lessons well my friends
Live every day like it's your last
We could build a future together
But we can't change the past
Broken dreams, I'm living on borrowed time
And I don't want to see it all just slide away
Yes, I could be losing pieces of my mind
But I'm playing it hard 'til my last day
Just remember this my friends
It ain't the years, it's the miles
There'll be many difficult hurdles
Tribulations and their trials
Smell the flowers, listen to the wind
Don't just take up space
Sometimes you don't see me smiling
But I really do love this place
Broken dreams, I'm living on borrowed time
And I don't want to see it all just slide away
Yes, I could be losing pieces of my mind
But I'm playing it hard 'til my last day
It's a pretty safe bet
that I don't want to talk to the people that call me at 5:22.
Keep trying, buddy; one day, I totally will refinance the mortgage on this place.
Keep trying, buddy; one day, I totally will refinance the mortgage on this place.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Let's try this again
I just applied for City College, and OMIGOD, I was ACCEPTED!!!!!!
Holy shit!
I got in!
I got in!
The honor!
OK, last time I registered and started to take a class there in Spring '04. The class was motorcycle mechanic-ing or whatever. It wasn't great, but I had hoped to bring the EX in and tear it apart and rebuild, and learn a lot in the process. Instead, I got hit by a car on the way to work, totalled the bike, and ended up working on some girl's Harley. Now, the girl was cool, but the bike totally wasn't. For example: in order to bleed the brakes, you would have to remove the exhaust pipe. Ummmmm, no fucking way! Probably the most important thing I learned from that class was that there's no way in hell I'll ever own one of those monstrosities. Anyway, getting hit by a car turned out to be very time consuming and I ended up dropping out of the class. (how many times could I show up and have work put on hold because the parts were the wrong kind of shiny anyway? I never even knew the difference between all the different chrome-y and billet-y finishes. I miss those naive days)
Anywhooooo...
I'm hoping to learn some Mandarin this time. Conversational, not the the grammar and writing class. Chinese scares me. You cannot fake your way through Chinese like you can Italian, French, or even a little German. Good stuff. I'm very excited about this, and a little scared. A little bit of language can be a bad thing. Better to keep your mouth shut when tone/accent can mean the difference between mother and horse. I've read that because of incorrect tone, foreign diplomats are often referring to themselves as "rubber U-bend pipes" in Mandarin. I can't wait for the confused looks from Chinese people. Possibly followed by a punch in the face, or something.
Yay!
Holy shit!
I got in!
I got in!
The honor!
OK, last time I registered and started to take a class there in Spring '04. The class was motorcycle mechanic-ing or whatever. It wasn't great, but I had hoped to bring the EX in and tear it apart and rebuild, and learn a lot in the process. Instead, I got hit by a car on the way to work, totalled the bike, and ended up working on some girl's Harley. Now, the girl was cool, but the bike totally wasn't. For example: in order to bleed the brakes, you would have to remove the exhaust pipe. Ummmmm, no fucking way! Probably the most important thing I learned from that class was that there's no way in hell I'll ever own one of those monstrosities. Anyway, getting hit by a car turned out to be very time consuming and I ended up dropping out of the class. (how many times could I show up and have work put on hold because the parts were the wrong kind of shiny anyway? I never even knew the difference between all the different chrome-y and billet-y finishes. I miss those naive days)
Anywhooooo...
I'm hoping to learn some Mandarin this time. Conversational, not the the grammar and writing class. Chinese scares me. You cannot fake your way through Chinese like you can Italian, French, or even a little German. Good stuff. I'm very excited about this, and a little scared. A little bit of language can be a bad thing. Better to keep your mouth shut when tone/accent can mean the difference between mother and horse. I've read that because of incorrect tone, foreign diplomats are often referring to themselves as "rubber U-bend pipes" in Mandarin. I can't wait for the confused looks from Chinese people. Possibly followed by a punch in the face, or something.
Yay!
Monday, July 11, 2005
I think they were racing motorcycles, or something
Saturday started way to goddam early. I was out all night with a work dinner/drinks thing, and then had to get up at 5am Saturday, to get an early start to go to Laguna Seca. The coffee house was closed. Grrrrrr…
We made pretty good time actually getting to Laguna Seca, but once we got to the gate turn-off, it was an hour to actually get inside. Why? Even at 8:30 am, Laguna Seca is totally ill-equipped to handle crowds. WTF? I can’t stand this shit. Open another fucking gate. This track brings more money to your local community than anything else. Open the fucking gates. Annoying, really really annoying. I am glad we only went one day, because I couldn’t stand to do that again Sunday. Finally parked the bikes in the dirt (grass) parking lot and made a bee line for a bar. This was actually quite wonderful. None of that usual fair-food $6 foamy Budweiser crap, no, we found a little local brewery bar setup with tables and chairs in the shade and a nice healthy breakfast stout. We were drinking by 9:30 and surly by 10. Yay!
Puttered around some of the booths, stopped to watch some practices and qualifiers, took pictures, and yelled at the Kawasaki people. Watched a little motocross, the Honda folks started up a little vintage racer (very cute), checked out the new Aprilia twin dirtbike and an old BMW sidecar. Good stuff. Go karts were sooooo cute, like little toys, you just wanted to pick them up and put them into your pocket. Ran into a bunch of people we knew, napped in the grass, drank more and ate funnel cake. Good day.
Stopped in Santa Cruz for dinner and crashed out in San Jose.
My mom’s dog pees whenever I come over. Without fail. She can’t help it.
Sunday, we rushed out to meet people for a ride leaving Blue Rock Shoot in Saratoga at 9:30. No one else showed, which I guess was a blessing since we could fuck off and take our time. It was a perfect day for a ride. Not very many bikes out (thankfully) and nice weather. I am a sucky rider these days, so it was slow.
I totally behaved myself on 9 and 35, and I hope I can just keep it that way, because the cops are everywhere on those two roads. I remember just about a year ago, coming through that stretch between Four Corners and Boulder Creek with a lot of 80 and 90 on my speedo. There have always been a few corners that slowed me down, but, now, it’s every corner. Some of that is me behaving, and some of that is because I’m on the SV instead of the much quicker DRZ, and a MOST of that is a much lower skill and confidence level. But there’s something else.
Just over a year ago, I was taking a lot more time riding, and I was riding a lot harder. My life had been pretty much riding, working, riding, going to the gym, riding, sometimes seeing my friends. Different attitudes about what I was focusing on, and a lot of less happy Rebecca, was pushing me though those corners. I was running and I knew it. I’m a happy person in general, but I know, and I even knew then, that I was trying to outrun my own shadow. Embarrassing guys on fancy sportbikes was at times a way to make up for my loneliness and annoyance at pathetic friendship and relationship possibilities. Fuck putting up with dating, I could just cut right to the good stuff at leaving them behind. Particularly if they told me I couldn’t keep up before we left. (note: the faster riders never say they are fast. They don’t talk, and they probably don’t have very “nice” bikes. That old guy on the clapped out mid-eighties dirtbike will wave at you while he takes you on the inside, on knobbies.) The cockier the guy, the faster I went. If pushed, I would push back. I wanted it.
The DRZ was getting pushed. With 3/8” unscrubbed on the edges of the front tire, it wasn’t like I was going anywhere but down, if I kept pushing it harder. I wouldn’t claim skill as much as bitterness, and mostly, though, just a lack of anything better to do or focus on. A better rider wouldn’t have shown that sort of wear.
I wasn’t ever the fastest rider. Never as quick as Charles, except maybe when he was doing chemo. I wouldn’t ever hope to keep an eye on Joanne’s tail light. But, yeah, I was moving. Was I moving well? I don’t know, but quickly, especially on empty days.
Well, now, what happened:
1.) I crashed hard, and didn’t ride hard for a few months. Then never started riding hard again. I lost my confidence, and never went to find it again. Never knowing why I crashed meant it was out of my control. Nothing to learn from that, except that for no goddam reason, you could end up flopping down the pavement leaving bits of finger. When you know what happened, you can make adjustments, and feel like it’s still ok to move forward-- problem is solved, won’t let it happen again. I dropped my bike last week and I know why, and will pay more attention to the shifting on the SV. But there wasn’t any reason why I ended up on the road last July. What could I do to restore my faith?
2.) I do not spend every weekend day riding around in the hills anymore. I just don’t have the time. There are a lot of things to do now. Paul and I have adventures every weekend that sometimes involve riding in the hills but more often do not. I need to ride constantly to improve, as I am a very slow learner, and my learning curve is very steep.
3.) I am incredibly happy. There’s no bitterness, the chip on my shoulder is mostly gone, and I don’t have people around me who would tell me that I have to ride with the girls based on nothing but seeing me and my bike, without riding with me first. I don’t have an empty spot or anything to prove. If it needed to be proved, I already did, and now that’s the past. There’s a bit of fear put back into me, because now I DO have something to lose, and there IS something to come home to. My life is GOOD. It’s not like I was ever the most fearless person, but, I can admit, I wasn’t at my personal best emotionally and that showed, to me, at least. When I was younger and bike-less, it would have manifest as heavy drinking and staying out and all that. Times are different, but I can see the same things underneath.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot because I am a lot slower now, and it’s been a source of frustration. Not just slower, just way, WAY less happy and comfortable on the bike. Used to be, I was more comfortable riding than walking, but I’d gotten to the point (particularly on the SV) where I was terrified to go around corners.
Well, point #3 isn’t something I’d change for the world, and point #2 can only be a matter of the compromises of time and choosing activities, but #1, that I could address. So I did.
The SV feels way better than it did two months ago. New tires made a big difference, and the suspension, it feels better now that it’s been to Aftershocks. I notice in particular the rear shock is much improved, and I assume the front is better too. (I’m no suspension expert, not by a long shot. I can’t even figure out what it’s supposed to be doing) It stays a little more stable when it goes over bumps. It’s no DRZ, but it will have to do. The bumps are still there, but I think the bike gets less shitty when it goes over them. You still feel it, but it doesn’t seem so crash prone. And the tires are WAY better. They actually stick to the ground instead of just kind of gliding over it. Imagine that!
I actually did a little jump when we came back into the city. There’s a really bad pavement seam at the 280/101 split that I usually stand up and slow down to go over, but this time I guess I sort of jumped off of it. Well, that’s what Paul said. I definitely felt it.
Was it worth the pile of money to get a little better suspension? (which is honestly probably wasted on me) Yes. If it makes me feel like I’ve made some change, fixed a problem that made me crash, and can move forward, yes. Even if it’s a placebo that puts my faith back into the bike, it is worth it. I wanted nothing more than to feel happy riding again.
Will I be doing track days to improve my speed? No. No. No. Who fucking cares? I’m willing to let you pass me now, cuz I’m really goddam happy. That may be the standard comparative indicator to a lot of people, about your worth or legitimacy as a motorcyclist, but, um, hello? I’ve ridden by myself to Seattle, I’ve done the Sheetiron, I’ve earned an Ironbutt Saddlesore doing a 24 hour endurance rally. I’ve taken a 400 thumper to Nevada a few times, across desert roads at speeds that made my bike toss, but did not crash. I've kick-, and push-started a clapped out 350 more times than I care to remember. I’ve seen the July snowmelt waterfalls at Mt. Rainier, and nine feet of snow in Sonora pass in June, ridden through mud puddles that would make your gixxer cry, and pulled up with thirty other bikers at 3am in Pismo Beach. I’ve saved my bike from rivers that desperately wanted to swallow it, ridden into LA with no dependable brakes, and gotten my poorly geared bike up same nasty dirt hills. Storms have not stopped me, no matter how bad, and I know where the quiet places are in the Santa Cruz, where I can stop, and hear nothing but birds, and remember that this is the world I want to see on my motorcycles.
Most importantly, I’ve found the one thing I ever really need, and there’s nothing in the world that would make me want to leave him in the dust. Paul is a better rider than I ever was, but even if it weren’t so, I’d still never let him out of my mirror
Comments:
Marisa
That was the sweetest love song I ever read.
Thank you.
Posted by Marisa on Monday, July 11, 2005 at 1:07 PM
We made pretty good time actually getting to Laguna Seca, but once we got to the gate turn-off, it was an hour to actually get inside. Why? Even at 8:30 am, Laguna Seca is totally ill-equipped to handle crowds. WTF? I can’t stand this shit. Open another fucking gate. This track brings more money to your local community than anything else. Open the fucking gates. Annoying, really really annoying. I am glad we only went one day, because I couldn’t stand to do that again Sunday. Finally parked the bikes in the dirt (grass) parking lot and made a bee line for a bar. This was actually quite wonderful. None of that usual fair-food $6 foamy Budweiser crap, no, we found a little local brewery bar setup with tables and chairs in the shade and a nice healthy breakfast stout. We were drinking by 9:30 and surly by 10. Yay!
Puttered around some of the booths, stopped to watch some practices and qualifiers, took pictures, and yelled at the Kawasaki people. Watched a little motocross, the Honda folks started up a little vintage racer (very cute), checked out the new Aprilia twin dirtbike and an old BMW sidecar. Good stuff. Go karts were sooooo cute, like little toys, you just wanted to pick them up and put them into your pocket. Ran into a bunch of people we knew, napped in the grass, drank more and ate funnel cake. Good day.
Stopped in Santa Cruz for dinner and crashed out in San Jose.
My mom’s dog pees whenever I come over. Without fail. She can’t help it.
Sunday, we rushed out to meet people for a ride leaving Blue Rock Shoot in Saratoga at 9:30. No one else showed, which I guess was a blessing since we could fuck off and take our time. It was a perfect day for a ride. Not very many bikes out (thankfully) and nice weather. I am a sucky rider these days, so it was slow.
I totally behaved myself on 9 and 35, and I hope I can just keep it that way, because the cops are everywhere on those two roads. I remember just about a year ago, coming through that stretch between Four Corners and Boulder Creek with a lot of 80 and 90 on my speedo. There have always been a few corners that slowed me down, but, now, it’s every corner. Some of that is me behaving, and some of that is because I’m on the SV instead of the much quicker DRZ, and a MOST of that is a much lower skill and confidence level. But there’s something else.
Just over a year ago, I was taking a lot more time riding, and I was riding a lot harder. My life had been pretty much riding, working, riding, going to the gym, riding, sometimes seeing my friends. Different attitudes about what I was focusing on, and a lot of less happy Rebecca, was pushing me though those corners. I was running and I knew it. I’m a happy person in general, but I know, and I even knew then, that I was trying to outrun my own shadow. Embarrassing guys on fancy sportbikes was at times a way to make up for my loneliness and annoyance at pathetic friendship and relationship possibilities. Fuck putting up with dating, I could just cut right to the good stuff at leaving them behind. Particularly if they told me I couldn’t keep up before we left. (note: the faster riders never say they are fast. They don’t talk, and they probably don’t have very “nice” bikes. That old guy on the clapped out mid-eighties dirtbike will wave at you while he takes you on the inside, on knobbies.) The cockier the guy, the faster I went. If pushed, I would push back. I wanted it.
The DRZ was getting pushed. With 3/8” unscrubbed on the edges of the front tire, it wasn’t like I was going anywhere but down, if I kept pushing it harder. I wouldn’t claim skill as much as bitterness, and mostly, though, just a lack of anything better to do or focus on. A better rider wouldn’t have shown that sort of wear.
I wasn’t ever the fastest rider. Never as quick as Charles, except maybe when he was doing chemo. I wouldn’t ever hope to keep an eye on Joanne’s tail light. But, yeah, I was moving. Was I moving well? I don’t know, but quickly, especially on empty days.
Well, now, what happened:
1.) I crashed hard, and didn’t ride hard for a few months. Then never started riding hard again. I lost my confidence, and never went to find it again. Never knowing why I crashed meant it was out of my control. Nothing to learn from that, except that for no goddam reason, you could end up flopping down the pavement leaving bits of finger. When you know what happened, you can make adjustments, and feel like it’s still ok to move forward-- problem is solved, won’t let it happen again. I dropped my bike last week and I know why, and will pay more attention to the shifting on the SV. But there wasn’t any reason why I ended up on the road last July. What could I do to restore my faith?
2.) I do not spend every weekend day riding around in the hills anymore. I just don’t have the time. There are a lot of things to do now. Paul and I have adventures every weekend that sometimes involve riding in the hills but more often do not. I need to ride constantly to improve, as I am a very slow learner, and my learning curve is very steep.
3.) I am incredibly happy. There’s no bitterness, the chip on my shoulder is mostly gone, and I don’t have people around me who would tell me that I have to ride with the girls based on nothing but seeing me and my bike, without riding with me first. I don’t have an empty spot or anything to prove. If it needed to be proved, I already did, and now that’s the past. There’s a bit of fear put back into me, because now I DO have something to lose, and there IS something to come home to. My life is GOOD. It’s not like I was ever the most fearless person, but, I can admit, I wasn’t at my personal best emotionally and that showed, to me, at least. When I was younger and bike-less, it would have manifest as heavy drinking and staying out and all that. Times are different, but I can see the same things underneath.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot because I am a lot slower now, and it’s been a source of frustration. Not just slower, just way, WAY less happy and comfortable on the bike. Used to be, I was more comfortable riding than walking, but I’d gotten to the point (particularly on the SV) where I was terrified to go around corners.
Well, point #3 isn’t something I’d change for the world, and point #2 can only be a matter of the compromises of time and choosing activities, but #1, that I could address. So I did.
The SV feels way better than it did two months ago. New tires made a big difference, and the suspension, it feels better now that it’s been to Aftershocks. I notice in particular the rear shock is much improved, and I assume the front is better too. (I’m no suspension expert, not by a long shot. I can’t even figure out what it’s supposed to be doing) It stays a little more stable when it goes over bumps. It’s no DRZ, but it will have to do. The bumps are still there, but I think the bike gets less shitty when it goes over them. You still feel it, but it doesn’t seem so crash prone. And the tires are WAY better. They actually stick to the ground instead of just kind of gliding over it. Imagine that!
I actually did a little jump when we came back into the city. There’s a really bad pavement seam at the 280/101 split that I usually stand up and slow down to go over, but this time I guess I sort of jumped off of it. Well, that’s what Paul said. I definitely felt it.
Was it worth the pile of money to get a little better suspension? (which is honestly probably wasted on me) Yes. If it makes me feel like I’ve made some change, fixed a problem that made me crash, and can move forward, yes. Even if it’s a placebo that puts my faith back into the bike, it is worth it. I wanted nothing more than to feel happy riding again.
Will I be doing track days to improve my speed? No. No. No. Who fucking cares? I’m willing to let you pass me now, cuz I’m really goddam happy. That may be the standard comparative indicator to a lot of people, about your worth or legitimacy as a motorcyclist, but, um, hello? I’ve ridden by myself to Seattle, I’ve done the Sheetiron, I’ve earned an Ironbutt Saddlesore doing a 24 hour endurance rally. I’ve taken a 400 thumper to Nevada a few times, across desert roads at speeds that made my bike toss, but did not crash. I've kick-, and push-started a clapped out 350 more times than I care to remember. I’ve seen the July snowmelt waterfalls at Mt. Rainier, and nine feet of snow in Sonora pass in June, ridden through mud puddles that would make your gixxer cry, and pulled up with thirty other bikers at 3am in Pismo Beach. I’ve saved my bike from rivers that desperately wanted to swallow it, ridden into LA with no dependable brakes, and gotten my poorly geared bike up same nasty dirt hills. Storms have not stopped me, no matter how bad, and I know where the quiet places are in the Santa Cruz, where I can stop, and hear nothing but birds, and remember that this is the world I want to see on my motorcycles.
Most importantly, I’ve found the one thing I ever really need, and there’s nothing in the world that would make me want to leave him in the dust. Paul is a better rider than I ever was, but even if it weren’t so, I’d still never let him out of my mirror
Comments:
Marisa
That was the sweetest love song I ever read.
Thank you.
Posted by Marisa on Monday, July 11, 2005 at 1:07 PM
Why is he out riding already while I'm still washing my bike?
It has been exactly one year since the last time I washed my motorcycle.
I cleaned a few bugs off the forks before I brought it to Phil, but other than that, no cleaning! Cleaning is bad. It makes you crash. Screw that!
I cleaned a few bugs off the forks before I brought it to Phil, but other than that, no cleaning! Cleaning is bad. It makes you crash. Screw that!
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Saturday, and a tally of getting back on the horse
This weekend is MotoGP (or whatever, something with motorcycles, is what I know) at Laguna Seca. Paul and I will be there on Saturday, sniffing the race gas and scratching the tanks on any display models they’ll let us get at. I am hoping for some good mullets and trophy girls.
If you’re going on Saturday, gimmee a call on my cellphone and if it actually works, perhaps we’ll hook up for some cotton candy and beer. Or funnel cakes or mullet hunting. Oh, yeah, there’s motorcycle races too. I’m mostly excited about the go kart racing, because I’ve never seen that before.
I picked up my SV from the shop last night and then promptly dropped it on Page Mill. I fell down with it, and my head landed on Paul's wheel. Nice. Just wish the FZ1 had a nice fluffy fender.
That’s OK, though, because I know exactly why I dropped it, and because Paul was there to help me pick it up again. I think that was the first time I’d ever dropped that bike. Crashed it, yes, but never just dropped it. Well, that’s sort of what happened. Anyway, the SV has been crashed twice, and rear-ended once, and now dropped once. Since I’ve owned it. Previous owners did something, I know because there’s a gouge out of the front rim.
The DRZ has been rear-ended once (didn't topple though), and dropped once on the street and once in a garage (well, really more like tossed over by a drunk girl--me). And knocked over while parked once. And in the dirt a whole bunch of crashing, like about 14 or so times.
The EX was crashed once by me, and once with the help of a minivan, and dropped at least three times that I can remember. And I got hit by a motorcycle on that one also. Also found it knocked over while parked at least twice (fucking cagers, at least pick that shit up!). And someone tried to steal it once, though I still can't fathom why.
The DR350, I crashed once in the street (I like to say I “fell off”) and dropped one other time that I can think of, and I wasn’t even touching it—it popped into gear and launched itself while it was idling and I was standing behind it putting my gear on. That bike was cursed, but fun to ride.
If you’re going on Saturday, gimmee a call on my cellphone and if it actually works, perhaps we’ll hook up for some cotton candy and beer. Or funnel cakes or mullet hunting. Oh, yeah, there’s motorcycle races too. I’m mostly excited about the go kart racing, because I’ve never seen that before.
I picked up my SV from the shop last night and then promptly dropped it on Page Mill. I fell down with it, and my head landed on Paul's wheel. Nice. Just wish the FZ1 had a nice fluffy fender.
That’s OK, though, because I know exactly why I dropped it, and because Paul was there to help me pick it up again. I think that was the first time I’d ever dropped that bike. Crashed it, yes, but never just dropped it. Well, that’s sort of what happened. Anyway, the SV has been crashed twice, and rear-ended once, and now dropped once. Since I’ve owned it. Previous owners did something, I know because there’s a gouge out of the front rim.
The DRZ has been rear-ended once (didn't topple though), and dropped once on the street and once in a garage (well, really more like tossed over by a drunk girl--me). And knocked over while parked once. And in the dirt a whole bunch of crashing, like about 14 or so times.
The EX was crashed once by me, and once with the help of a minivan, and dropped at least three times that I can remember. And I got hit by a motorcycle on that one also. Also found it knocked over while parked at least twice (fucking cagers, at least pick that shit up!). And someone tried to steal it once, though I still can't fathom why.
The DR350, I crashed once in the street (I like to say I “fell off”) and dropped one other time that I can think of, and I wasn’t even touching it—it popped into gear and launched itself while it was idling and I was standing behind it putting my gear on. That bike was cursed, but fun to ride.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Weekend Addendum
I forgot, Sunday also had wheelie practice. Apparently the DRZ does pathetic wheelies with throttle only, and I was advised to use the clutch despite my wishes for throttle-only wheelies. It IS a lot easier this way, and so I did a couple of cute, tiny wheelies on Sunday. I think Paul even saw one. It was probably the daintiest little wheelie he ever saw. Even did one in front of a cop, who was probably debating pulling me over to tell me how to wheelie properly and then ticket me for my pathetic wee wheelie.
Paul also did a few bitchin' wheelies on my bike, for purely educational purposes.
Yay!
And I’m getting the SV back today, so that ought to be a better wheelie and crashing machine. Phil has laid his magic hands on my SV, so if it is not better now, it cannot be saved, and must go… we’ll see.
Paul also did a few bitchin' wheelies on my bike, for purely educational purposes.
Yay!
And I’m getting the SV back today, so that ought to be a better wheelie and crashing machine. Phil has laid his magic hands on my SV, so if it is not better now, it cannot be saved, and must go… we’ll see.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Weekend
Friday night:
Step 1: Indian food. Priya on San Pablo, near Lanesplitter. Very tasty Paneer Masala.
Step 2: Horrible movie on cable. So bad I called Daniel to lodge a complaint since I heard he worked on this movie.
Step 3: Picked up Ben & Megan from Oakland airport, Paul and I on our motorcycles. It was a bit of a zoo on account of the holiday, but worked out eventually since we found the “Park & Call” area. Ben looked nervous. I figured Megan would be a better passenger because her brother has motorcycles and my brother has led a very sheltered life, motorcycle-wise. Since I had to take the DRZ, I did not want a shitty passenger. Besides, as I was so happy to point out, this way if one of us got hit, my mom would only lose one of her offspring. Nobody died. Again.
Step 4: Beer.
Saturday:
Step 1: Breakfast, coffee, no mimosas. (dammit)
Step 2: Grazed at the Pasta Shop. So many free samples, so little time. Prima Donna cheese, very tasty.
Step 3: Vivarium: Noteworthy things included watching geckos walk, blue frogs, and the suicidal snake (possibly one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen!), big-ass spiders, and hyperactive turtles.
Step 4: Cruised around 4th Street until the ice cream shop opened.
Step 5: Ice Cream!
Step 6: Margaritas!
Step 7: Nap!
Step 8: Work: New Wave City.
Sunday:
Step 1: Coffee, made fun of the people on 4th street.
Step 2: Sat in hammock, petted cats.
Step 3: Pizza
Step 4: Found some money
Step 5: Friend’s birthday party. Saw the coolest piece of furniture EVER. They have done a ton of work to their house, and it looks spectacular. I got to pet their fishes.
Step 6: San Jose: The whole family was there for once, and we ate cheese and chocolate and wine and port. 4 bottles of wine, and some loud conversation.
Step 7: Dangermouse. He’s the fastest; he’s the quickest; he’s the best.
Step 8: Passed out
Monday:
Step 1: French Toast and coffee.
Step 2: Rode up and down Mt. Hamilton. I made a squirrel very very sleepy. This was the only downer on my weekend. :( Paul will probably never forgive me.
Step 3: Made cupcakes. Very cool cupcakes.
Step 4: Stuffed ourselves full of food (ongoing throughout the day)
Step 5: Charles and friends came over.
Step 6: Watched the fireworks over San Jose
Step 7: Rode home. This was sort of fun and sort of scary. On the one hand, there were little bursts of fireworks going off all over the place, even by the time we got to the City, there were a few going off. On the other hand, drunk drivers. Either weaving/wandering, or going way too goddam slow. Oh, yeah, the cops will never suspect the guy doing 50 in the left lane! Cagers suck. When I’m a cop for a day, I’m pulling over all the shitty cars going too slow. I bet at least 80% are carrying warrants and/or no insurance, or are drunk. Those of us speeding confidently obviously have nothing to hide.
Step 1: Indian food. Priya on San Pablo, near Lanesplitter. Very tasty Paneer Masala.
Step 2: Horrible movie on cable. So bad I called Daniel to lodge a complaint since I heard he worked on this movie.
Step 3: Picked up Ben & Megan from Oakland airport, Paul and I on our motorcycles. It was a bit of a zoo on account of the holiday, but worked out eventually since we found the “Park & Call” area. Ben looked nervous. I figured Megan would be a better passenger because her brother has motorcycles and my brother has led a very sheltered life, motorcycle-wise. Since I had to take the DRZ, I did not want a shitty passenger. Besides, as I was so happy to point out, this way if one of us got hit, my mom would only lose one of her offspring. Nobody died. Again.
Step 4: Beer.
Saturday:
Step 1: Breakfast, coffee, no mimosas. (dammit)
Step 2: Grazed at the Pasta Shop. So many free samples, so little time. Prima Donna cheese, very tasty.
Step 3: Vivarium: Noteworthy things included watching geckos walk, blue frogs, and the suicidal snake (possibly one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen!), big-ass spiders, and hyperactive turtles.
Step 4: Cruised around 4th Street until the ice cream shop opened.
Step 5: Ice Cream!
Step 6: Margaritas!
Step 7: Nap!
Step 8: Work: New Wave City.
Sunday:
Step 1: Coffee, made fun of the people on 4th street.
Step 2: Sat in hammock, petted cats.
Step 3: Pizza
Step 4: Found some money
Step 5: Friend’s birthday party. Saw the coolest piece of furniture EVER. They have done a ton of work to their house, and it looks spectacular. I got to pet their fishes.
Step 6: San Jose: The whole family was there for once, and we ate cheese and chocolate and wine and port. 4 bottles of wine, and some loud conversation.
Step 7: Dangermouse. He’s the fastest; he’s the quickest; he’s the best.
Step 8: Passed out
Monday:
Step 1: French Toast and coffee.
Step 2: Rode up and down Mt. Hamilton. I made a squirrel very very sleepy. This was the only downer on my weekend. :( Paul will probably never forgive me.
Step 3: Made cupcakes. Very cool cupcakes.
Step 4: Stuffed ourselves full of food (ongoing throughout the day)
Step 5: Charles and friends came over.
Step 6: Watched the fireworks over San Jose
Step 7: Rode home. This was sort of fun and sort of scary. On the one hand, there were little bursts of fireworks going off all over the place, even by the time we got to the City, there were a few going off. On the other hand, drunk drivers. Either weaving/wandering, or going way too goddam slow. Oh, yeah, the cops will never suspect the guy doing 50 in the left lane! Cagers suck. When I’m a cop for a day, I’m pulling over all the shitty cars going too slow. I bet at least 80% are carrying warrants and/or no insurance, or are drunk. Those of us speeding confidently obviously have nothing to hide.
Friday, July 01, 2005
"How would you like to have complete control over what I do?"
Last night I got the first obscene phone call I've gotten in years. It was so exciting. I was like OMIGOD! It's an obscene phone call! But when I tried to click back to it (I was on the other line, and sharing my excitedness with my boyfriend), he was gone. Well, you know, after the initial novelty wore off, I wouldn't really know what to do with it anyway. Maybe like, "do you know where I left the remote?"
This was well into my beer, and I thought it was hilarious.
I'm really very comforted by the fact that ANY technology or discovery humans make, no matter how noble, or hope-inspiring, no matter its possibility to better the lives of millions or answer life's big questions...
Every technology or discovery will eventually be used for porn, sex, or masturbation.
The consistency of the human spirit is really a comfort to me, and I know "they" cannont win, because, at the root of everything, the reason we do all the stuff we do, apparently, all comes back to getting our rocks off.
Stem cell research should turn up some really intriguing opportunities, but so will prosthetics development, and, somehow, though I'm not sure how yet, cancer treatment breakthroughs and alternative fuel technologies. New Ipods is too obvious, but what about bird song research?
This I have complete faith in.
This was well into my beer, and I thought it was hilarious.
I'm really very comforted by the fact that ANY technology or discovery humans make, no matter how noble, or hope-inspiring, no matter its possibility to better the lives of millions or answer life's big questions...
Every technology or discovery will eventually be used for porn, sex, or masturbation.
The consistency of the human spirit is really a comfort to me, and I know "they" cannont win, because, at the root of everything, the reason we do all the stuff we do, apparently, all comes back to getting our rocks off.
Stem cell research should turn up some really intriguing opportunities, but so will prosthetics development, and, somehow, though I'm not sure how yet, cancer treatment breakthroughs and alternative fuel technologies. New Ipods is too obvious, but what about bird song research?
This I have complete faith in.
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