campmor! say it ain't so!

Boo. I was previously so enamored with campmor. They have a super cool catalog (I love the line drawings), and good prices, and lots of good info on their website.

But they fucked up my order this week, and will not make things right.

Order placed Monday morning for several items, payed extra for next day shipping.

Received the order today. Of the two important items in the order, only one arrived. The other, though accepted through the order and email confirmation process, was, according to a handwritten note on the shipping invoice, no longer available.

ugh. I am leaving Friday. I want to pack Wednesday if possible, but must pack by Thursday.

Now the website tells me that it's now available in red, not the black color I chose. So I call, and they say, OK, we'll send it out, two day service, but it will leave tomorrow. Which means, maybe, it should arrive Friday. There is a REASON I paid extra for it to be delivered early this week. I ask them to overnight it, they tell me OK, but they will have to charge me for this.

No. That doesn't make sense since I've already paid extra to have this delivered TODAY. Now you want to charge me more to have it delivered Thursday (which adds up to 3-day) I'm escalated to Customer Service, who insists on charging me and tried to convince me he's cutting me a deal. Wait, whose fault is this? THEY accepted the order, confirmed it, and never bothered to advise of a problem until I found a note in my box? I've already paid the extra. It wasn't available, he says. But your website, and my email confirmation, said it was. He said "you placed that on the website, did you talk to a person who told you it was available? It wasn't."

Ahem. So your website is useless, and that's just fine with you. What-ever. You're right, I failed to get a human signed and notarized confirmation in triplicate.

Bottom line: I'm not paying again for shipping on an order that is ALREADY late.

boo. I was so enamored. I'll think twice about ordering from campmor again, and definitely won't do it if time is important.

Good customer service? They should have called me when they picked the order, to advise of the problem when they discovered it. I could have told them to send the red one on the spot, and no one would be out any time or shipping costs. Instead they wasted time, shipping money, and customer goodwill. Feh.

The sky is pink. And it is NOT falling.

cnn
Reuters

"The privacy of ordinary Americans is fiercely protected in all our activities. We're not mining or trolling through the personal lives of millions of innocent Americans," Bush said.

The president came out to defend the administration's domestic spy program after USA Today reported the National Security Agency was secretly collecting phone records of tens of millions of Americans from phone companies to analyze calling patterns in an effort to detect terrorist activity.

How the hell this president can be so bold and just out and out lie about things that are very very obviously untrue is beyond me.

"We're not mining or trolling through the personal lives of millions of innocent Americans," What? No, you're just recording all their phone activity. Ahem, that's not personal life, I guess. Not in Bush's mind? (sorry, did I use "Bush" and "mind" in the same sentence?)

"Our efforts are focused on links to al Qaeda and their known affiliates," Bush said. "The privacy of ordinary Americans is fiercely protected in all our activities."

OH! OK, phew! You're only spying on BAD guys! So if I'm not bad, I have no reason to worry! Thank God! But, wait...

"domestic telephone call records from millions of Americans beginning shortly after the attacks on September 11, 2001."

Millions? So, there are MILLIONS of al Queda operatives in the USA? Shocking. But I won't worry, 'cuz if I'm worried, that must mean I'm a terrorist right? Uh, not worried!

Keep your head down, don't raise a peep.

I keep getting these stupid mails and bulletins from military folks, slamming on anti-war and other protesters, saying they shouldn't be speaking out, that they're somehow unpatriotic or unamerican. Next military person that tells me they're fighting for the USA, that protesters are too cowardly to fight for, might want to re-examine what exactly they are fighting for. A country that tightly controls freedom and monitors everyday people and their telephone conversations? Not so much worth fighting for then, is it? Protesters? That is what you ought to be fighting for, the right to call out and struggle for change as needed, that is the essence of our Great Democratic Experiment. There is nothing so American as protesting.

Once we betray those ideals, we might as way lay down our weapons and admit that what we have is nothing worth protecting.

black and blue

So Saturday night, we were headed down to San Jose, on 280, on our dirtbikes. The plan was to crash at my folks' house so the ride to Metcalf in the morning would just be 15 miles. We were going to meet Charles at 8:30 in the parking lot. Right.

Wrong. Somewhere between Magdalena and Foothill, Paul toasted his motor. I mean, he didn't do anything, it just happened. Well, anyway, fortunately I have some incredible friends.

Charles once again showed me how lucky I am to have such great friends.

And since I would only be in the way hanging around Paul's garage on Sunday while he tore down the XR, I proceeded to San Jose, and then Metcalf in the morning.

Then all the crashing and all that.

Then, this:




Who doesn't love a good bruise?
Yeah, I need to replace my elbo guards, which are AWOL.

And Paul, well, he has bigger problems. The bike is TOAST, and surely won't be back up by next weekend for the Sheetiron, if at all. So what to do... working on creative solutions now, and I'm hoping this won't just end with me crying about missing the Sheetiron again. I have faith. Hmph.

worthwhile

The other day I realized that I have never, in my adult life, had a positive net worth.

There have been a few articles lately on CNN and other news sites about the crippling weight of student loan debt. I have to say, it's fucking bad. Really.

What exactly is the point of discouraging kids from going to college for a better education, to a better job, to more taxes to the government and a more competitive workforce?

What indeed?

And of course Bush hacks away even more aid recently. I know that's not what he SAID, but it IS what he DID...

As debt goes, it's not a bad one. interest is tax-deductible, and the rate is low. So low, it's not worth paying off early. But still, it's there, and it's bullshit.

Same thing if you want a house: debt forever. Now I'm seeing the ARM foreclosures. And laughing. "we didn't realize what we were signing." ha!

Anyway, I guess I should be happy that I'll have a positive net worth later this year. But I'll never be debt-free. It's just not the American Way.

Vroom, whack, thunk!

"A ship in port is safe, but that's not what ships are built for."
-Grace Murray Hopper

really.
I'm just really sore.
My head is all wonky because I couldn't sleep well last night. I have a very large black bruise on my thigh.
In fact, my whole leg is sore, and in order to not let it stiffen up, I thought it would be wise to go for some walking last night, and rushing through bushes and hopping fences as well. In order to accommodate that, we had to split a pitcher of margaritas. This helped loosen up my pained muscles, and drown Paul's XR650 sorrows.

What happened before that was that I went to Metcalf to ride my bike around in the dirt a little. Just a little, I think only 2.5 to 3 hours?

It started innocently enough with a request to be dumped off at the TT track, where I figured I could just run around in circles being slow and sucky on my own. I even knew better than to take the bait at the hillclimb, which Charles totally lied about. (big as the hill he crashed on at Sheetiron, my ass!) but when we ended up at the GP track, I got bored of Charles telling me to try it followed by my own chicken-ness. Well, I can't really see all that well, but it looks too hard for me. What the hell, says I, what the hell indeed.

It's OK, I know I have to crash. I suck at this. Like, really, and it's totally terrifying, which really just makes it worse. Hesitance leads to too slow, which leads to crash. Terror leads to death grip on the bars, which means crash. Feeling out of control makes me unable to stand up, which leads to really being out of control, which leads to...

#1: uphill, bumpy, trying to tell myself to stay on the gas but feeling like it's not going to work. I feel like that a lot, and often it works out anyway. Besides, what can you do? Switch off the TV and give up? Nope, there it is, there's a 99% chance you're going to fail, but nothing to be done except hope for the 1%. I like those odds! At least you're doing it! Bumped into a grass hill, I crash somewhat lightly. Somehow, Phil is there. I don't know why, was he stopping for a picnic? By all rights he should have been flying over my head or already up at the top of the next hill? I don't know where he came from, but Phil is the best, and I learned a lot just by watching him push my bike down before trying to pick it up. Smart man, used the grass hill for half the leverage. I probably would have just thrown it over with much effort only to find it on its other side, but now in the middle of the track. Much coaching on how to get my bike out of the hill, and I was up and on my way down again. The trails were dry on Sunday, but at some point in the recent past, there was water pooled up into muddy sludge at the low points, which means peaked ruts, which is where
#2 I try to choose a path through the ruts at the low point but I choose wrong, or gas wrong, or, uh, shit, I don't know. I crashed pretty hard that time, probably poor throttle control for that condition? Whatever, I crashed, under the bike, Phil is behind me and helps me AGAIN. This time he has to tell me how to scoot down so he can untangle me from the bike. I know I hit hard, and I know I'm done for a bit. When you start crashing repeatedly, it's at least time for a break. Phil coaches me on how to take the next turn, and I try to take his advice. Much attention to throttle control and lean (or lack thereof) on that turn and up the hill. If I could have instructions on every inch of track, that would be cool. Hmph, up at the top, and I'm sitting out until everyone is ready to go back to the truck.

I feel so terrible when I'm such a pain in the ass. It's a struggle, and I really feel bad for needing the help. Particularly from people who hardly know me.

Well, you don't know until you try. Though I feel bad for the impositions, I'm glad I get to regret crashing instead of regretting sitting out the entire time. I don't even regret crashing. I just wish I could do it more.

But, I live so far from the dirt. I've always wished for a little dirtbike to practice on, something less big and heavy, and less, um, necessary for my commute. Not that someone couldn't ride my bike faster, as some guy WAS on Sunday, on exactly the same bike (though cleaner, and, oh my bike is geared for the street, which is a very weak excuse). But, for me, a girl who's terrified of everything, and never could do any sort of sport, something small, and regular practice to take the edge off, that would be nice. Why does it take me so long to move so little on the learning curve? Sports were never my forte. Sigh. Well, anyway, but I keep doing it, just not often enough. Sheetiron in two weeks, and I am pretty disheartened. Not as disheartened as Paul, I assume, but I have a different set of problems. I can't even throw money at these problems, they are all me this time.

But you do it, that thing that you're scared of. That's what makes it different.
I sort of walked away from the one thing I was ever really good at. What's the point of doing something you already know you are good at? Hmph.

Well, just ouch. I hope this heals up before I get to the Sheetiron, which is another issue.

what I was thinking just now.

Old ladies adore my boyfriend. I think that's great, since I plan to be an old lady one day, and I can't wait to see him through the eyes of an adoring old lady.

That's planning ahead.

This past Saturday, Paul and I got up early-ish and scurried down to Market Street to catch the Earthquake Cottage on its last display day. The shack itself wasn't much to look at, but the photos and info were interesting, and the fact that you could see the old wood in most of it, stories and all. These shacks were built as a part of a permanent answer to an immediate emergency need. These shacks provided previous slum dwellers who'd lost everything with a permanent structure and the option to take their house out into the "country" (sunset district! See, it IS the suburbs!) and make a new life. What do we have for Katrina refugees? A couple bucks for a hotel, and then out on the street see-ya-later!

Some of these shacks have been cobbled into homes that are still lived in today.

Then.

My folks came to the city and picked us up and we all went to meet Paul's mom at the de Young Museum to see the Arts and Crafts exhibit. It was very cool. Everyone should go. Arts and crafts: very cool. Tower view, very cool. Getting stalked by the old Filipino security guard who kept telling me and the people around that I looked like the Mona Lisa? Not quite "cool," but it made for laughs later.

I worked Saturday night for New Wave city again. 550 Barneveld is a great space, but it's way too far from the rest of the city. It seemed slow. I got some reading done.

Sunday we went back to Berkeley and worked on getting the dirtbikes back into dirtbike trim. Paul had finished the SV tune-up (it idles so much smoother now) and installed the high-low horns Charles bought for my EX500 years ago. These are COOL. Loud. Fuck you mister cellphone driver!

Monday Paul did his part in the ongoing battle against highway litter and picked up a nail on his commute. Charles heroically arrived to save the day and feed him Mexican food. Or something. I don't know, but my boyfriend looks pretty hot in his fancy work outfit with a tiny jack under his Yamabego. All is well now, new tire has been installed.
So the XR can go back to dirtbike.
so we can *finally* go dirt riding this weekend.

*finally*


tonight?
Indian food... mmmmmm.... Priya

word for the day

I just learned a new work that makes me giggle:
pergraniteel

pergraniteel :: your crappy overpriced loft
as
carbon fiber :: your crappy squid bike

I'm About to Loose My Mind.

Today, Paul tells me this:
"If the only thing wrong with your job is that your boss doesn't understand evolution, you really should consider what the vast majority of humanity has to put up with on a daily basis."


Really?
Really?
I just can't imagine there are many more people like this.
Look, I'm very tolerant of religions. Sometimes I feel like I'm overly defensive even of Christianity.

But I can't tolerate this crap. Evolution is not an equal option to creationism. I don't have to give your religion equal time in science class, as though it were an equally valid part of a scientific debate. It's not science, and there is no debate.

I'm tired of people being proud of stupidity.
I'm tired of people misspelling things over an over until the misspelling becomes just fine.
It's not fine to misspell "lose" as "loose." IT'S NOT FINE.
And I keep seeing it. And I think you are an idiot, but I haven't told you yet. Maybe I ought to, lest "loose" becomes an accepted alternative to "lose."
But there's no debate. "loose" is not an equally valid way to say "lose." There is no debate. There's just you, looking like an idiot.

I'm tired of people thinking they will get rich from the lottery or Vegas. Every time someone tells you they went to Vegas and made X amount of money, ask them how much they lost. They NEVER factor that in. You only "go to Vegas and make money" if you come out AHEAD of your investment. Duh!

I'm tired of people thinking they can flip houses and make $200K for doing nothing. It's real satisfying watching people panic and end up underwater right now. Did you think you were entitled to a few hundred thousand just because? Oh, you didn't understand your ARM would adjust? It's got "ADJUST" right there at the beginning of the name, dumbass! This reminds me of my dot-com bubble friends who were making 6 digits for a few years in their 20's. Lucky them! But a year later when it blew up, there they all were getting evicted and starving. What, no savings? Nothing to show from the good old days? Tsk, tsk!

I'm tired of people telling me they're mad about gas prices and they demand that there be some half-assed, idiot-planned boycott a certain station on a certain day or whatever. Why do I keep getting these chain letters? It's NOT GOING TO WORK, and furthermore, it shouldn't. Shifting your gas purchase by a day or two doesn't do a goddamn thing to the oil company's profits, it just reinforces the idea that you are an idiot unable or unwilling to make actual change in your life in order to make things different. It shouldn't work, because you don't "deserve" low gas prices. Oil is finite. (sorry, it's true, "intelligent designers." Dinosaurs did roam the earth, a long time before us, and they are GONE) People suffer because Americans feel entitled to lower gas prices for WHAT?

Wanna stick it to the man? Thumb your nose at gas prices? Walk, ride your bicycle, take transit, at the very least get a more reasonable vehicle, CONSUME LESS. Of everything.
Walk outside and meet your neighbors and notice the buildings, sit at home and read a little, learn about actual investing, practice your spelling, something!

And get the hell off my lawn.

tweet tweet

As of last Thursday, some asshole in my building (or possibly the next door building facing the courtyard) has gotten a BIRD.

I will never understand people who keep birds for pets. They aren't particularly affectionate or compelling, and they are FUCKING NOISY. Birds are social animals; that is why they sing and twitter. So how cruel is it to not only cage a FLYING animal, but then to keep it alone?

It makes no sense to me.

And, to have one in a crowded downtown apartment building? Well, if I knew who it was, I'd go poop on their door.

The singing is somewhat charming in the afternoon, at least, it was the first time I heard it. BUT. The bird wakes up at 6am every morning.

Paul did not believe me. He keeps telling me it is a starling or something, taking up residence in the courtyard. I have lived in that apartment for eleven years. There are NO starlings in my neighborhood. No tweet-tweet, pippity-pip birds. Just a lot of pigeons (which I don't mind, toxic shit or no). Pigeon noises are sort of creepy and occasionally dirty-sounding, but ultimately low and unobtrusive.

Someone needs to die. And it's not the bird, it's the jackass keeping the damn thing in a downtown San Francisco studio apartment.

netflix

I was thinking of signing up for netflix. I'm trying to learn Mandarin and like watching movies in Mandarin so I can get excited when I pick out every fifteenth word. Paul de-activated my queue on his account because I guess he got tired of the crappy Chinese movies I was having sent over.

So. Today I saw some ad for netflix as low as $5.99, wanted to see what was up. Typed in netflix.com and it said "plans starting at 5.99" on the front page. Then I signed in to see what was in my queue. Since it wouldn't let me see pricing while I was signed in, I signed out again and returned to the front page. Now it said "plans starting at $9.99." WTF?

Cleared out my cookies. Barred netflix from setting cookies. Now it wouldn't even let me see the front page or any other info, just some bullshit about how I needed to allow netflix to set cookies so I could rent movies and have a queue. OH, did they fail to mention they also wanted to set cookies so they could have different price options for different people?

After clearing cookies and allowing them again, I now got "plans starting at $4.99" So now I've seen three different numbers.

Looked another time, and got "plans starting at $7.99." Different plan AGAIN.

Oddly, they actually show different plans to different people:


This is after I signed out, and have a cookie on my computer that tells them I've already been sucked in, and have a queue. So they'll try to get $9.99:

This is with no netflix cookies on my computer, so they'll try to lure me in with low pricing $4.99 ought to do it?:


This is somewhere in between, at $7.99. I didn't capture the $5.99, but whatever:

They're each different plans offered to people based on what cookies are set on your computer. Hey, fuck you very much netflix. Why not just show all the plans together, instead of lying about what they lowest priced-plan is? Honesty goes a long way.

I am looking at the Greencine thing. Anyone tried them? They have some movies netflix didn't have too.

Fun stuff about the city I love

why not just use the bubble as a floatation device instead?

real estate hilarity

weekend

Friday: realized I know someone who doesn't believe in evolution.
Saturday: had pizza delivered to SFMC again, at James' party to raise money for his Isle of Man racing efforts.
Sunday EARLY: Mt. Tam. We were there, where the hell were you?
Sunday 2: Considered the irony of nearly getting killed by some dipshit with an "Abortion: One Dead, One Wounded" bumper sticker. Actually, had we not seen him swerving across two lanes of traffic then grabbing his brakes, it would have been two dead. But I don't count on these dumbasses to have solid math skills.


Sunday gets two parts because we woke up at 3am to do the Easter Morning Ride. Wherein motorcyclists of all ilk gather to ride to the top of Mt. Tam to watch the sunrise every Easter. This year was rain and THICK fog, and so the usual 2-300 bikes was cut down to about 50 or so. Pussies!
Then we went to Berkeley and napped, woke up for Sunday 2, and rode to San JOse to have dinner with my family. It was great.


Rich folks who lecture about being christian and doing the sunday bible study routine and then tell me about how great their rich buddy's tax-shelter abuse scam is, fuck off. What WOULD Jesus do? Um, not that, I'm thinking.

Wet crotch is the new black. At least, that's what the folks at Aerostich seem to think. Feh.

livejournal

makes you PAY to show photos! really? nevermind, then.

enough!

ugh. so my sewing machine doesn't really work. I had been trying to just deal with it and work around it, but it is shit, and doesn't really come out right, and is very frustrating.

I need to get it fixed.

Yes, I know I have 4 sewing machines. But I want to use *this* one.

the coolest person I know

I went and saw Mames last night. He showed me his ID card for the Isle of Man TT Mountain Course, which, officially, makes James the COOLEST person I know.

Isle of Man racing is expensive, give him some support!

Coincidentally, Paul and I will be at Isle of Man. I get to go see James race at arguably the most beloved motorcycle race in the world! On a tiny island with people who talk funny. woot!

I am thinking of moving this "blog" thingy. I like some of the functions of LiveJournal; namely, being able to keep some posts public, other posts just for friends to see. There are a lot of things I just can't journal about publicly. (like, uh, my job, specifically) So, any thoughts about Livejournal vs. Blogger? I'm not so much "blogging" as I am "journaling" anyway, right?
But I hate to keep moving around, and most folks aren't livejournal users, so they wouldn't have access to my friends-only postings without ANOTHER goddam thing to sign up on this stupid interweb thingy. ugh. stupid internet!

Also, I suspect the hillclimb will be cancelled this weekend, rain and all. feh.
And, no, I'm not going to the fight party. I will be getting money to listen to 80's music.

Subzero

and really what I need is to figure out what the path is.
what steps to take to change careers or put this one on track. I can't afford to live in the Bay Area, which is where I want to be. I see places I want to park my bike and furniture, but I don't see how on earth I could get them.

it all seems very frozen right now. Patience comes and goes, ebb and...
today I want it all, tomorrow I'm willing to let it all go for just a little something, anything. The next day I am inflexible again. Then it seems possible, but upon another look, not at all. It's all water on the horizon of a vast desert. Or a mirage, or maybe just little piece of broken glass left from a different time.
Now it's just for investors and flippers, people who were given a little more, people who made better choices earlier, people who don't have bikes to wrench on. I'm at once above you and beneath you; spiteful, self-righteous, and deeply envious.

And it's all I want.
In this job that, just one generation ago, would have been a fine job to build a life on. A job that now means I'll always be poor, never able to put down roots in the place I belong.

Fuck you very much luxury people. I hope your 24 hour concierge sneaks in in the middle of the night and steals your precious granite countertop. Maybe one day I'll be ducking through an alley and find you clutching your stainless steel faucet, all that's left from the recessed-lighting-induced fire that burnt your condo-hive to the ground.

We'll always have our stainless steel.

Jenner

My family converged on Jenner for a family weekend Friday night. What this boiled down to was a lot of chocolate and a lot of drinking.

This year, we decided there wasn't anything my parents wanted or needed for Christmas. Except, the one thing they really want-- family time. With my brother and his wife in Seattle, they wish mostly for family time, so that's what we got them. Ben and Megan flew in Friday, picked us up in their rental car, and drove us out (the long way, since roads were flooded and we didn't trust the crappy American boat car to take it) to meet my parents and sister who were already at the rental house in Jenner. And then we had port, chocolate, wine, more chocolate, and I think a little beer too. It was grand. We even got to go to the beach Saturday when the sun was more or less out. When was the last time you got to walk down the beach with your folks, picking up shiny rocks and climbing on old rusted tractors?

It rained most of the rest of the weekend, so we cooked and played games and ate and talked a lot of shit.

Sunday I napped (drinking in the morning will do that to you) and then Paul and I hiked around Berkeley in the rain. In the evening, a noisy possum visited the porch a few times. He kept knocking of the recycling bottles outside, so we finally had to take the port bottle in, which solved the problem. Possums love port!

Today's Not-Really-Guilty Pleasure

omigod, so funny:
America's Overvalued Real Estate

...except I happen to LIKE houses that are dwarfed by their garages. Other than that, right on.