Lessons learned? Not so much

You can always tell true San Franciscans apart from the rest of the masses on a beautiful day. First of all, no one has a real pair of shorts. They are more like cut-offs, or some kind of cargo pant that is rolled up to the knee. Dolores Park had pasty skin as far as the eye could see and it seemed as those everyone out and about was both sunburned and drunk. Good times.

I had a great weekend. I felt like I was on vacation, which if you've read any of the earlier blogs-hasn't gone too well as of late. The weather was beautiful and I spent lots of time outside. I never really believed I was stubborn, but as I get older, I am more willing to admit these faults about myself, even if they are far and few (ok, dry your tears from laughing and keep reading). I refused to wear sunscreen or sit in the shade and as a result, suffered through the night as my skin sizzled with a bitch of sunburn. People always tell me I look "healthy" when I'm red and crispy. I suppose the pasty specter look isn't all that "in" unless you are goth or something. So, despite the burn, it was relaxing and well deserved. A week trapped inside this freezing stone building where I work should give me ample time to heal-ready for another long weekend where I can spend another day basking in nature. And, no-I probably won't wear sunscreen.

Noise pollution

So, let me get my rant out of the way. I live above semi-delinquent dumbasses. These boys are young and sweet, but not too bright. I'm thinking either they have completely blown their hearing, or get too drunk and stoned to notice that they have their music and sub-woofer blaring at top volume on a daily (more like nightly) basis. I wouldn't mind, having thrown my share of loud parties, but my floor vibrates, I can't hear my own TV or music, and I go to work during the week like most yuppie scum. I've got the foot-pound down nice, but always feel a little lame and sorta guilty when I find myself yelling "turn it down! do you know what time it is?!" Yeah. Oh, and did I mention they think they are the next M&M? There's just something not quite right about a couple of white boys beat boxing in the well outside my kitchen, or playing the acoustic guitar version of "Straight Outta Compton." It's like when you watch a really cheezy old sitcom like "Saved by the Bell" and you have to turn away from the forced, corny dialogue in embarrassment. I'm glad they are being creative though. Nurturing their tastes as up and coming gangsta rappers. I don't know maybe I can deal-especially if enough of that pot smoke seeps up into my apartment.

Workshed

Finally. He's coming. Here. To SF. He will be here. In person. I will meet him. I will kiss his ass. I will also slap him for making "Alien Apocalypse," that piece of trash made for Sci-Fi flick. Bruce motherfucking Campbell is coming to a bookstore near you!

I was giving my friend shit about nerding it up for the final Star Wars flick due out this month. I feel his priorities are a bit misdirected. I remember years ago when they re-released the original, he left work to wait in line and never came back. I found him shivering in line, flanked by a guy with suspenders and pants pulled up to his armpits listing to Japanese animae, and a reject middle-aged David Crosby looking ex Grateful Dead fan. I drove by honking my horn, yelling "nerds!" before I realized the Ti Fighter dangley my friend had put on my window was swaying in plain view to the perverse delight of the line of rejects. I felt bad and bought my friend hot coco and a bag of Funions.

But who am I to talk. In addittion to writing this blog about him, I have action figures, movies with commentary, and am full of useless facts and info about Bruce and his cinematic career. I know every line to "Evil Dead 2", "Bubba Ho-Tep," and just about all the other flicks he's been in. I suck. Maybe it's how I first got introduced to the movie? I was in 5th grade at my crush's slumber party. We watched "Texas Chain Saw Massacre 2" as the boys tried to put ice down my bra (oh...fine. Training bra) and the trailer featured "Evil Dead 2." Maybe that mix of hormones, sugar and gore made an sustaining impression on my psyche?

Whatever. We are all entitled to our nerdy vices, as long as it doesn't interfere with our every day reponsibilities right? Although, I am writing this blog while at work...

Speak no evil...

Ugh! So, my flu wasn't as mellow as I thought. I lost my voice for 6 days-and I mean lost it. Funny though, I still kept talking as if words were coming out of my mouth or as if a speech bubble formed above my head like in the comics and people could read what I said (uhh, no, I am not on meds right now). I thought I'd have sexy, raspy voice like Kathleen Turner and as a joke, changed my greeting messages only to find that I sounded horrible, if not manish, and couldn't change it back because my voice got worse.

Yesterday was the first day I could almost form complete sentences and not get totally winded as I forced the air out to speak. Who me stubborn? People keep telling me to go to the doctor, not talk for a full day, etc. I mean, do these people fucking know me? Me not talking is like President George W. forming a coherent and intelligent thought all on his own...not likely. And who the hell wants to choke down antibiotics-getting nauseous, not eat dairy and pee yellow?

So, the road to recovery hasn't been easy. I'm so done, having gotten various nasty versions of the flu 3x in 6 months! I have a quite bit of yakking to make up for. My mime-ish version of speech just didn't cut it. Oh, I pity my friends as I recover. Maybe the next post should be hear no evil...