Legions

Vinophile

2007-09-18T13:49:00.000-07:00

It's been forever since last post. I still haven't even thrown up the 07 birthday pics. Bonobo beatdown-sigh. One day-when I have DSL or Wi-Fi. Loading images on dial-up sucks ass.

Over the past few years, I'm happy to report that I've become somewhat of a vinophile (and a cheesephile, chocophile, and lots of other thigh-expanding, blood-pressure raising philum). Over this last weekend, I made a second excursion to Healdsburg (more on the first in a bit). I was off US reds after Europe, discovering the joys of various Spanish and French reds. However, I've returned to exploring Northern CA wines, beyond what I thought was the end all-be all of a few select cabernets from 1997 ot 2000.

This last trip included:
Jordan (known for their cabs, the chard was tasty and the 1999 library cab fantastic)
StoneStreet (eh-no purchase here)
White Oak (to purchase their pure butter 2005 Russian River Chardonnay) Got the cab to accompany our dinner of bison burgers. Wine was ok, but not that notable.
Lancaster Estate (purpose of this trip being for their 2004 Cabernet release party)
Alexander Valley (Decent and cheap rose and syrah)
Hanna (decent-refreshing savinon blanc in a hot tub)
FieldStone (um, "blessing of the grapes" party with mullets and old ladies gumming chocolate cake. Poured 8 tastes, so if anything, solidified the buzz for the steep hill ride home)
Belverdere (cute boys tasting, but the dude pouring never shut his yap and made broad, and incorrect statements like "blue cheese never pairs with anything but reds." Liked the Sangeovese-light and refreshing-more like a deep rose)
"____" Forgot the name of this one-a historic distillery. People were everywhere. The wine wasn't very good-some of the worst on the trip, but they had free pretzels and various dips-hence the crowds.
Gary Farrell (one of my new favs along with Lancaster. Every wine was good and the setting beautiful. Favs included the Chardonnay and Pinots).
Attempted to go to Chalk Hill and Twomey, but they were closed).

The last trip included:
Unti (great sangeovese and fab Grenache. Petite Syrah was the deepest, beautiful purple)
Mazzuco (nice solid cab paired well with burgers. Bought the Matrix which was a bordeaux/malbec blend)
Maurtison (not too memorable)
Wilson (Touch of Merlot-like a rose-tasted better after hard riding. One of the few Zins I really liked-their Old Vine-paired awesome with ho made goulash)
La Crema (awesome rose and decent Pinot Gris-tasted better after the ride)
Rosenblum (actually bought a dessert wine-tastes like liquid chocolate. Nice syrah from santa barbara)
Lancaster Estate (yes, I joined the club and not just for the cave/world domination room) The Nicole wine is fucking awesome. The deepest red that in my opinion can be paired even with the lightest fish. 1999 Library cab was also great.
White Oak (as noted above-awesome buttery chard)
Cakebread (disappointing to say the least. As standard, their cab was solid-excellent, but all others, especially the whites were way acidic)

In general, some of my favorite wines of all time (as of now) include:
1997 Jordan Cabernet
2000 Cakebread Cabernet
2003 Muga Reserva Rioja
2005 Gary Farrell Chardonnay-Cresta Ridge
2005 Gary Farrell Pinot Noir-Bein Nacido
2004 Gary Farrell Pinot Noir-Starr Ridge
2003 Lancaster Estate "Nicole"
1999 and 2004 Lancaster Cabernet
2005 White Oak Russian River Chardonnay

Many Argentinian Malbec Reservas and Sicilian Neros. Gosh-there are so many more, but I know them more by label.

Anyhoo-wine...is...good!

Gone to soon

2007-06-19T09:41:00.000-07:00

Jesus Christ! Google has become Big Brother. The insanity of trying to log into this damn service, bah!

Anyway, I apologize to my loyal readership for the delayed absence due to technical difficulties. I have some catching up to do and birthday pics to post, but let mention a most recent episode of life evolution.

As of the end of July, I will be departing my beloved project after three plus years. It's been REALLY difficult in many ways. I love this project and have weathered so many egos, obstacles and human waste (literally). I thought I could outlast the new guy, through the re-occuring nightmares and endless cash forked over in therapy time. While I know it's for the best career, and health-wise, both mentally and physically, it's still hard to let go. It's really difficult for me to believe that a person can be so transparently fucked up, but with employees quitting left and right, funders bailing and politicos getting pissed all due to one ass-wipe (or as I like to call him, fuck face) I am starting to realize that well, some people just are. Or, this one person is. I have the perfect remedy, just 30 minutes of pure nut-kicking should make it all better, well...for me at least.

Kiss My Thistle

2007-04-04T16:33:00.000-07:00

Our final layover at the Hotel Thistle by London/Heathrow airport really didn't live up to the splendor of the rest of the trip, but made up for it in laughs. Been growing weary of buddy's apparent night terrors, we observe our twin beds getting closer and closer at every accommodation.

Nearly falling through the grand canyon of a toilet, I did manage to scrub in the shower, knee-deep in cold water as the smell of burning plastic radiated throughout our room. Starving after our flight, we ate a shitty dinner of nachos, chicken liver, wine (surprised? How else do you think we ate liver?) and salty soup for the us equivalent of $100 at the hotel restaurant, we curled up in the cold of the room and watched a special about obscene tourettes syndrome.

The flight home was delayed a bit, but all in all, went smoothly.

Neither of us came home in a bodybag. The trip was great and I look forward to the next adventure. Maybe a vacation from vacation is in order...something involving a hammock, fruit laden beverage and warm waters.
A couple more random pics (Ahh-yes, the Museum of Chocolate-this little rinky-dink museum was a must!)

Barcelona...It's the Men!

2007-04-04T16:09:00.000-07:00

Geeze the men are hot here. Drool...

Sitting in the business center of our hotel in Barcelona, which looks similar to a Miami Vice reject. Our transportation has been flawless with the exception of a pre-meditated, 15 minute strike delay in Paris. Gimped along the Ramblas today after a quick hello-goodbye to Gentle and her mom. Barcelona looks a lot like the downtown district of any major US metropolitan city. The Barri Gotic is interesting with its combination of medieval buildings and modern constructs. There are sooooo many restaurants, it´s hard to know which to go to. Also, Catalonian is NOT like standard Spanish, so our mangled attempts to order even the simplest things is time consuming and shameful in our ignorance. The streets are a bit confusing, but this place is growing on me, especially as I ogle the hot hotel concierges.

Keeping with the Parisian tradition of being drunk by lunchtime, my favorite moment so far this trip was sitting in the Placa de Orwell as we listened to live music and enjoying a jug (yes a jug) of sangria. So bohemian! I'm feeling the socialist love. The food has been fantastic. Everything is coated in olive oil and I've grown a fondness for Spanish wine and exotic tapas.

There is the most AMAZING, beautiful market along the Ramblas with every kind of fresh fruit, spices, fish, meats, etc you could imagine.

Went to the Gaudi's cathedral, which housed a pretty impressive little museum, located about 5 blocks from the hotel. My feet are dying, but it has been worth all the pain.

Gaudi's house was interesting as well.

Paris: It's the Cheese!

2007-04-04T15:44:00.000-07:00

And the wine, and the coffee, and the macaroons, and the chocolate....

Paris is fantastic as always-I ate my weight in cheese, wine, chocolate and macaroons, or didn't you gather from the above? All the walking is doing quite a number on the feet, but I gimp along with pleasure to experience the culture and sites.

The Eurostar was a bit of an adventure. We didn't realize that you are assigned exact seats and car numbers, despite that it was printed on the ticket. So, among the bumrush to board, we aimed for the last car and parked our bags in one of the few slots available and our asses in a couple of seats. As we made our stops, we realized that those boarding would require their assigned seats, so we made our way to our designated car, which was, oh yes..at the front-about 20 cars ahead. Tripping over bags and drunken Frenchmen, we ping-ponged our way to the seats, hauling ass back to our baggage storage once arriving in lovely Paris.

Parisian Metro is also quite the adventure. Not the polite, adequate open-door timing of the spotless London tube. Buddy managed to get caught twice in the doors, while I repeatedly hurled my bag and body through the turnstyle before the barricade locked. Bruised legs and bruised ego. And no matter where I stood, I was in the way-along with any and everybody else.

Buddy and I are getting on eachothers nerves a bit, but I suppose that´s to be expected when in constant close quarters with someone for 13 days straight. Our 10+ year friendship has weathered greater challenges, and in the end, we laugh more than anything else.

Haven't really thought at all about work much, which is great. The days before my departure were pretty hellish, aside from the birthday fun. Except now I want a job that enables travel. Everytime, I am inspired by all that is out there to see and get claustrophobic thinking about confining myself to 7x7 SF.

Ladytron was fantastic up in Pigalle, although I think we have permanent lung damage from the amount of smoke inhaled during the show. Not once, but twice did we have the pleasure of witnessing a dude climb onto the shoulders of another, sweaty and barechested as he whipped his shirt above his head like he was riding a bull.

We got drunk on wine and cheese eveyday. The weather has been absolutely gorgeous, with the exception of one day.

Off to Barcelona on Wednesday.

Mind the Gap

2007-04-04T15:33:00.000-07:00

Please excuse the time between posts. Blogger.com is fucking with my account and making it difficult to post with ease.

We arrived in London Wednesday as scheduled after a rather pleasant plane ride. Cheers to Ambien! I felt bad for buddy's long shanks cramped in his seat-one of the few times I appreciate my "petite" stature. We did our best to acclimate to the cold and time change right away, forcing ourselves to go out for a pint and stay up until 10pm, setting the clock to rise on time the next morning. Alas, my alarm didn't go off, and we wound up sleeping until 12:30pm, which pretty much screwed up our internal clocks.

We walked all over Covent Gardens, saw Big Ben and walked back to our hotel in Kensington-making random retail walk-through/pitstops along the way to warm up. IT IS FUCKING COLD. Now I realize why people drink so much out here-to numb the pain of the cold. It only took a good 20 minutes of badgering to convince buddy to wear the warm coat.

Off to a torture museum today and eat Ale Pie at one of the apparently chain-based pubs on every corner. Be it the Pig and Whistle, Museum Tavern, The Pillsbury or Red Lion, they all share the exact same menu. The sterling is double the US dollar, putting a slight cramp in my shopping agenda. The power went out in the room for about 4 hours this evening, silencing the endless CNN TV drama about the soldiers in Iran and shitty US music selection. Did I mention that Rick Springfield is no longer top ten? Oh, and it's nice to know that the US isn't the only place with stupid, jackass radio dj's. Being obnoxious comes with the job description.

Off to Paris on Sunday via Eurostar.

Time is a Mental Construct

2007-02-07T19:22:00.000-08:00

So, it's February. I miss blogging, but felt I needed to take a step back and evaluate a few things in life. Blog posts were becoming rage-filled tangents or included too much chronicles of drunken antics. I was leading up to a "When the laughter stopped" D True Hollywood Story episode.

I've been taking a course through UCSF's Osher Center for Intergrative Medicine called Mindful Based Stress Reduction (MBSR). So far it's been a very interesting process.

On New Years Day I had an epiphany of sorts and found myself truly in the moment. The moments were both very good and very bad, but I knew it was an amazing place to be. The point is not to live for the moment, but truly accept and acknowledge whatever the experience is while it is happening. Anyway-when you are conditioned to react to stress verses respond like me, it is definitely a challenge to change life long habits. I have good days and bad. Sometimes I can incorporate many elements of the practice, sometimes just a few, and sometimes none. I suppose I can just take it moment by moment. Now don't worry-there will be many more rants, raves and recitings of the shenanigans to come, but I like to refocus every so often. I guess it depends on what I'm feeling..in the moment.

New Beginnings 2007

2007-01-01T18:03:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! I am not religious, so as each holiday season comes around, it seems odd to celebrate a holiday that I don't believe in. So, I embrace new years as the holiday of choice, in addittion to birthdays of course, and reason to join family and friends in food stuffing, noisemaking, and booze induced merriment.

Another day, another dollar

2006-12-07T16:15:00.000-08:00

Halloween Showdown or Halloween Ho' down

2006-11-11T13:51:00.000-08:00

So, another year and another Halloween past. I started this blogg two years ago specifically to commemorate the infamous Halloween party at the Old Mint. I still meet people to this day who say they went to an amazing party there, which was the one we threw of course! Thanks to those goodtimes, the City cracked down on our use of the space. Ahh, now that I've stroked my ego sufficiently, I'll humble myself by posting a sweet humiliating photo of my make-shift Baroness costume.

I figure, I'll never be this skinny again, so why the hell not pimp a black uni-tard and call it a night? It will make for a great story when I'm an old spinster babbling from my rocking chair to whomever will listen sometime in the future. Sadly, the not so distant future.

My party crew consisted of the mad-devil scientist and Decker from Blade Runner fame. "I've seen things you people wouldn't believe"-which I shall chronicle in the next paragraph.

We went to the private staff party at the Castro Theater, like last year, and watched the drunk and disorderly attendees parade up and down Castro Street from the safety of our elitist view from the theater marquee. Like so many before me, I suckled the nectar of White Russian liquor from the lactating mock breast of a guy sporting a psudo-cheerleader outfit, while his friend in a green party dress and matching sparkling eyeshadow chatted me up, while a Henry Rollins look-a-like in a skeleton costume pledged his love of the Baroness on his hands and knees. I'll leave that image to your own imagination.

It's too bad some stupid, ass wipes puked out of San Jose had to ruin the already short-lived evening by firing their loaded guns into the crowd. I'm thinking that a party at the Old Mint is in order for next year if possible. TBC...

Quickie Addenum

2006-10-30T12:52:00.000-08:00

A few things have come to mind, in no particularly relatable sequence, from general daily observations, past posts and well...random thoughts and rants.

1) When I was in LA, I meant to add that the nobody actor Skeet Ulrich (sp?) checked me out at the bar. Of course, he was probably scoping anyone or anything with a vagina, but I though it amusing. He's kind cute in person, but with a name like Skeet, all potential respect (if there ever was any) went out the window.

2) I've decided I loathe the following terms because I know when I am reading Missed Connections, the people using them are nerdy white boys who wear their baseball caps to the side.
"hit me up"
"holla"
"hit me back"
"baby"
"420"
and the all time trashy "MILF"

3) I was walking in the park the other day and it seemed like time slowed around me, the world for a moment was silent and still while I watched a few auburn leaves flutter to the ground from a massive tree and the light shimmered through the remaining leaves. I love the fall.

4) I booked a trip to the UK for late March next year. Trying to keep the travel momentum going. I wasn't a huge fan of London the one time I was there, but maybe this time will be different. A day trip to Stonehenge is a must. Little known fact about yours truly-when I was younger and without an organized religious belief system, I felt left out from the ritualistic order my friends practiced in their various religious systems and so I actually studied a bit on the druids and their practices. It didn't stick, but I gave it a shot. Still debating about which other country to visit. Germany and back to France are both options, but I think I'm going to go with Scotland.

Stay tuned. The annual post Halloween blog will be coming soon.

It takes a set

2006-10-05T15:34:00.000-07:00

Halloween is approaching, which was the original inspiration for starting this blog two years ago. I've had a costume idea in the works for over a year now, but haven't found the balls to pull it off. I'd have to wear my skin-tight black body suit with nothing but some ammo and a long black wig, which doesn't leave much to the imagination. It's pretty absurd when you see what people wear on Halloween, all shame is out the window. So, maybe after a stiff drink or two I'll find the motivation. For those of you geezing enough to remember, The Baroness was the evil chick co-hort to the Cobra Commander team in GI Joe comics. She's awesome!

Sake Thong and Beer Pong

2006-09-11T13:26:00.000-07:00

I went to LA to escape the endless gloom of SF for Labor Day weekend. I stayed with my cousin with an extensive agenda that included loafing by a pool with a margarita.

It was 105 degrees in LA and while broiling myself in the sun, my eyeballs actually perspired. It took over an hour to cool off, which included a cold-ass shower that didn't take. When driving in a hot wasteland, did you ever notice the "mirage" effect on the road in front of you? Like the horizon warps and you almost see a pool of water within the wavy heat lines? That's what appeared when you looked at me after an hour session by the pool.

Anyway, on Friday my cousin took me to his ex-girlfriend's birthday bash at what I deemed as the Japanese version of "Senior Frogs" in LA. Waiting outside, I heard the drunken' hoots and hollers of men and women over the backbeat of the Village People's YMCA, which begged the question "Sake Bomb" or "Sake Thong"? Was this like a Chip and Dale's deal-i-o? He told me of a horrible alcoholic concoction which combined beer and sake. The drinking ritual comprised of balancing a shot of sake on two chopsticks placed over a mug filled with beer. After the "performance staff/waiters" chanted "Sake!" to the audience's "Bomb!" a few times, everyone then slams the table with their fist, causing the sake to drop into the beer which is then chugged. Yes, a bit on the frat-party tip I agree, but after the glass of wine and "BMF" glass of Maker's Mark I sucked down prior to attending, it appeared more fun. You know how I love booze and violence! Anyway, the alcohol combined with the massive plate of tuna sashimi I scarffed down didn't sit well, so after the fun wrapped up, I asked my cousin and his new blurry twin to bring me home to pass out. The next day, I was puzzledd as to why my left hand was covered with bruises. Following my uncle's sound advice, I sweat all the booze out at the gym the following day (I'm sure the chick on the elliptical next to me got drunk off my alcoholic fumes).

On that Sunday, the bar staff and regular patrons threw a BBQ which included a keg, many a 12 pack, hard liquor, and a funnel. This was the makings of a drunken' frat boy's wet dream.

A good time was had by all. I suppose licking wet pavement could be considered fun if you are drunk enough. I did my damage on that Friday and was well behaved for the remainder of my trip. All in all...you got it...good times.

We Got Snakes!

2006-08-20T13:49:00.000-07:00

On a mutha-fucking plane! Why would I voluntarily see this piece of crap flick you ask? Or maybe, you don't even question it. But they had me at "open bar." Some friends and I got tickets to the private-booze fest premier screening of Snakes on a Plane starring Samuel L. Jackson and...well...no one else. Sadly, we were first in line to the sold out affair. For $25 you got all the free booze and SoaP schwag you could want. That's right. Now, either the movie wasn't that memorable, or 5 Seven and diets later, I barely remember the plot (or lack there of). It was a poor mans Rocky Horror type of evening and brought back memories of when I was a kid and saw Critters 2 at the Mission theater. You couldn't hear much as snot-nosed kiddie patrons hurled twinkies and spit balls at the screen. Fridays fest was an adult version with ample booze and dialogue like "I am so sick of these mutha-fucking snakes on this mutha fucking plane." How could we go wrong?

Inner hippy (outer pain)

2006-07-31T13:05:00.000-07:00

With work being such a drag these days and realizing I needed a break from my semi-self destructive partying behavior and basically, a break from the foggy city, I decided to be spontaneous (or as much as I am able), and opted for an overnight hotspring trip to Orr in Ukiah. I've only been to a hotspring once, so it was nice to revisit the experience and find a new place. The weather was perfect and we had a sweet little private cottage/room and scheduled massages for the next day. It was very relaxing to unwind, play a game of chess, walk down the forest road, cook our own food, soak, steam and the such.

My massage was interesting. I've been trying to embrace my inner hippy (if she exists). At least I don't snicker when someone asks how I am doing spiritually and with my inner self. I explained that my outer neck could really use some treatment and that my goal was basically to reeelllaaaxxxx. I'm not sure of the style of massage the lady was trained in, but she seemed to be getting more of a spiritual/physical moment from it then me with the deep breathing, humming, etc. She massaged my inner organs a lot and held various body parts in mid air for bouts of time. I cringed a little when she worked the kidneys-I guess those babies have been feeling abused. I did leave feeling more of an even disbursement of my "inner energery" and a strong need to urinate. Regardless, I like more bodily kneading in a massage, but it was still nice.

The massage made me realize that in order to submerge myself in to the hippy vibe, I needed to shed the bikini and "go buck" as my friend put it. Being self conscious about being naked, when I was the only one with an actual suit on seemed illogical. So, I shed the bikini and embraced the hot sun like a gekko broiling on a rock. My reward was feeling a sense of total freedom, along with a really sunburned ass-but finding it well worth it in the "end" (so to speak).

"A three hour tour"

2006-07-20T15:45:00.000-07:00

Wow-birthday transports have certainly been interesting the past couple years. Last year I rode the trolley, this year a sweet mini-yacht around the Bay for a sunset cruise. Of course, we floated right into a massive fog cloud, or maybe that was my brain from being drunk on a ship? Eh, whatever. Being drunk on a boat is awesome because you have "rough waters" as an excuse for staggering around like an ass. The boat came with various "deck-hands," two bars, a sweet DJ set up and lot of pirate props. I guess my make-shift sword kept stabbing friends in the crotch-but that will teach them to sneak up behind me.

I always thought the Professor was hot. And while I loved Veronica of Archie Comics fame, I preferred Mary Ann on the show. I guess I have a subconscious alliance to my fellow brunette sistas.

Friends convinced me to experience "Marin nightlife" and just as I feared, it was pretty "Marina-esque." We hit jamband central at Sweetwater as I ogled the hot trumpet player and marveled at the number of strappy sandals, halter tops and dudes with silky button -ups, I thought I was having a Donnie Darko moment and transported back in time to the Medjool fiasco of weeks prior.

Regardless, a goodtime was had by all. And now I can tell the tale behind why I own a skull eye patch.

MeatFest 2006

2006-07-02T14:18:00.000-07:00

No, not another Friday at the Rickshaw, but the lovely Independence Holiday weekend feeding frenzy. As I sit here typing, my stomach is on fire, raging with cramps due to the tasty, gorging meat fest I partook in yesterday.

I've become a little on the slim side as of late and thus, my body isn't used to the culinary abuse I used to put it through. So, yesterday for some reason, I thought eating two sittings of BBQ chicken, ribs, beef brisket, pulled pork, a corn muffin, potato salad, buko ice cream cake and pecan pie would be no problem. Oh, and one piece of grilled asparagus-musn't forget the veggies! Follow that with an evening of ghetto Bushmill chasers, and the result is...well...painful, though euphoric going down.

Sadly, I didn't get to yak bbq all over the Marina spawn that covered the roof of Medjool. Well, there's always next week to look forward to right?

Sign of the Beast (or the best?)

2006-06-06T17:18:00.000-07:00

Of course I had to pay homage to this day of 06/06/06. I even had a little blood shed as my acupuncturist "bled" me to rid the toxic cold virus that is trying to fuck with my immune system.

Speaking of blood shed, some friends sent me this. Good thing it's not Rickshaw Friday or we'd have an all-out massacre on our hands.

Mission Impossible

2006-05-15T14:38:00.000-07:00

On the wagon, off the wagon. Hmm. It would appear that getting myself into a drunken' whiskey induced stupor is a regular Friday activity these days. Considering I don't drink much otherwise, it's ok except I keep missing out on the beautiful climate the next day because I'm curled into a fetal position in bed recovering. Actually, it's not that bad and it is so worth going out so I can share with you some of the sweet pick-up lines I've heard from dudes in states far drunker than mine.

One was from a guy who before starting to get drunk said "hey, if I drink enough of these, I'll go home with anything!" A few rounds later, he asked me to take him home.
Assessment-Flattering as it may be, you'd have a better chance tonight with your pillow, a jar of vasaline and eventually, the porcelain throne. See ya!

As I peered over the bar to assess what kind of whiskey the Lone Palm had, a guy said "what are you looking for?" I said "types of whisky." His response "I wouldn't know because I don't drink it"
Assessment-You don't like whisky? I don't like you.

(Now, I can't remember the details of how this conversation started with these two guys-sadly the cuter of the two was REALLY wasted and his friend looked embarrassed, but humored), but the end result was conversation along the lines of "Seriously, we have really big dicks-wanna see?"
Assessment-Thanks boys, but gang-bangs are so 1990.

Two guys approached us at a wine bar "We're from Miami-wanna come swing dancing with us? What's with all the homeless? Not to be graphic, but there were like these two bums fucking in a tent." This guy proceeded to bring up homeless sex, masturbation and exposure at every conversational turn. (Again, his friend looked embarrassed, and actually, not humored at all)
Assessment-Miami huh? Swing dancing huh? Forget the bums, you fucking screwed yourself with that first line dude.

Two guys (one with a wedding ring mind you) started cracking not only anal sex jokes, but threw in a little excrement and beastiality to boot.
Assessment-You need to be a hell of a lot cuter to work the crude humor.

This next one happened to my friend, but my sweet experience wasn't far behind. Guy from Ireland walks up to us at Bar #1-"So, your last name is polish eh? Where is Poland? Didn't Hitler invade Poland"..Moving on to Bar#2-Guy walks up to me dressed in a Raider's starter jacket, with matching hat and a braided rat tail "Why are you wearing gloves inside? Don't you think that's weird" Guy with braided bug-antenna hair and jacket with 1 million buttons strolls by.
Assessment-Bar#1 dude-talking about Hitler isn't usually synonymous with getting laid. Bar#2 guy-San Jose puked your ass pretty far out tonight. Go home, crack open a Budweiser and call it a day.

"Wow, hey you're like really smart and shit"
Assessment-Looks can be deceiving. I'm talking to you right?

Ohh man. There are so many more, but these are the more memorable highlights.

Feel free to use these beauties on your next outing.

Temporary Bliss

2006-04-28T11:19:00.000-07:00

Though my travels were far from "vacation-like" in the sense that there was no pool lounging, tropical drink sipping, cabin boy servicing, spa treating activity, it was an amazing cerebral adventure. Whenever I go on trips like that, I'm sad to return and eager to resubmerge myself back into the culture.

Being home was relaxing through the weekend. Then, my life blew apart all over again as work stress, health issues, home turmoil and pretty much everything else reared it's ugly face again. It's been a tough year to say the least and even my acupuncturist said I was definitely being "challenged" by the universe.

So many little things have been going on, so I'll summarize some of the more interesting, if not unusual experiences. I've seen a ton of music over the last two years and some great art as well. Went to an absinthe party-the invite stated "dark cabaret," which was tough because my rib-crushing corset and top hat are at the dry cleaners. So, I opted for more of a "velvet goth" look, sans the riding crop (and, yes I do have one). The event was kind of "burning man" meets "david lynch" and while I appreciate the romaticism and danger of tasting absinthe, I switched over to my usual whiskey and soda pretty quick. Gut-rot comes in many forms, but I'd prefer it to taste good going down.

End of Days

2006-04-12T21:19:00.000-07:00

Sigh. Our last day in Paris. Heavy hearted, we ate the remainder of our breakfast foods (or what survived of them during our trip to Italy) and ventured out to the D'Orsay Museum. We tightened grips on our bags as the warning of pickpockets rang out ion the PA system while we viewed the endless collection of Impressionist works. A little Van Gough, a pinch of Toulouse Lautrec, and a dash of Degas made for a visual cultural stimulus. After a few hours touring the museum, we set off to explore the Saint Germain district, getting our final fill of Parisian chocolate and macaroons. My feet we practically steaming by the time we walked back to the apartment where I whipped up the last of our food for dinner. We decided to "brown-bag" it Parisian style, grabbed two glasses, a 1/2 bottle of champagne and hit the park to watch the Eiffel light up and sparkle in celebration of our final night while we had a smoke. Salute!

The next morning, we woke up early to prep for the shuttle to DeGualle airport for our return to the USA. I rang for the apartment elevator as we prepared our luggage now groaning with treats to return home. Hmm. No sight of the elevator. The way the apartment is set up, the only exit, aside from the treatcherous fire-escape staircase out of the kitchen numerous floors up, is the front door which unlocks and opens directly into the called elevator. Today...yes...today it decided not to work. Cursing, we practically threw our huge bags down the backstairs in the attempt to make our shuttle due to arrive any second. Funfunfun!!!

The first to be picked up, our shuttle proceeded to the other stops, and our final pick-up..guess what...hadn't woken up yet! We sat in a semi fog of annoyance and caffeine deprivation and waited for the stereotypical American slackers to get their shit together. Of course, they were the first to be dropped off as well.

My flight back was great (after renegotiating to get back the isle seat I had reserved but which they took away for a second time). I was the only passenger to have two seats to myself, and being of petite stature, wedged myself across the two seats.

As I arrived home, I was proud at my acclimation to the culture, full of enthusiasm and determination to return and experience all the more.

Au revoir and Ciao!!

Day 8: Paris, Part Deux

2006-04-12T21:07:00.000-07:00

After failing our attempt to negotiate to leave our bags at "the Cave," we packed up and hauled our shit out the door by 10am. We fueled up on caffeine and sat at the Trevi Fountain, mocking the fools who did not throw their coin in properly. We thought of different strategies to ignore the pestering vendors as they attempted to sell us a piece of shit water wiggly again...and again...and again. I knew better as the zipper in my fake Prada bag had already broken. The sun warmed our faces as we people watched and took in our final moments in the beautiful city.

We hauled our bags to the Metro to begin our venture back to the Ciampino airport, stopping at an Italian chocolatier along the way. Arriving WAY to early, we scarfed cocacola light and chips waiting for our flight home, as my now semi-bony ass numbed from the metal seat. After arriving back in Beauvias airport in France, we navigated our way to the bus to begin the long ride back into Paris. Once there, I threw my bags down in frustrated disgust as cabs passed us over. We eventually made it back to the apartment, delighted at it's warmth and convenience and planned our final day of vacation.

DAY 7: Blasphemous! Who me?

2006-04-03T09:04:00.000-07:00

After the race to shower before the heat blew out in "the cave," we headed out for our near final day in Rome. I figured Monday would be an ideal day to tour the Vatican, which proved to be a huge mistake. The line stretched along the walls of Vatican City for the equivalent of four blocks. Did I really want to spend my final day in a line like at Disney Land? Unless I could ride some religious version of The Monks of the Carribean (yes, I know the treasures it holds are unmatchable), I said fuck it. I threw my coin in the Trevi-knowing I'd return one day. So, we opted for St. Peter's Cathedral. I didn't have time to reserve a tour of the secret underground Scavi, but figured we had a full day with the line there. While not as bad, it still sucked to wait for so long, especially in the icy wind chunnel caused by the semi-outdoor walled area. We wound up in line for the dome (you had to wait and pay to take the lift up-nothing is free in Europe. NOTHING) flanked by amourous couples converging in a tongue crusade.
The inside of the dome was restored-all the mosaic shimmered with colored glass. Nothing had dislodged from the wall, so no "take home" from this historic icon. We went back on to the roof and wound up going inside another chamber area. We started our ascent up an inclined path, which was becoming more and more narrow. Curious, we kept going up, not able to turn back because there were people behind us. Then...the stairs started. Up...and up...and up-jesus christ! Our hearts were thudding as the path got more narrow and started to curve, causing an optical illusion. Finally, we saw a spiral staircase which we started to climb...and climb...and climb. Sacred or not, I heard cursing in every language as the poor schmucks in front and behind us burned their quads climbing the stairs. Finally, after something like 300 stairs, we emerged onto a terrace on the very top and outside of the dome. The panoramic view of Rome was INCREDIBLE! Pidgeons parted like in a John Woo flick as my obscenities rung out across Rome, having raised my camera to take a photo realizing I was indeed out of fucking film.

DAY 6: We came, we saw, I cried

2006-04-03T08:56:00.000-07:00

Escaping "The Cave," we ventured out for yummy cappuccinos on a quest to see the historic ruins. We as we walked we turned the corner I saw it and my eyes teared up (although that could have been from the wind and dirt pelting my face). I don't care if it's a total tourist site, been over publicized, etc. The Coliseum is magnificent especially you it register how old and significant it is in history.

I did not deface this relic thank you. There was a chunk on the ground, already dislodged which I took home.

These I believe we the ruins of Apollo's temple.
The vendors all sell pretty much the same stuff (think Fisherman's Wharf and the cable car cache). I haggled him down for a rosary made from crushed roses in a container with the Pope's face on it. I gave it to the one catholic I know who could also appreciate it's campy value. It was either that or a mock Greek statue with overly accentuated buttocks (which he also would have appreciated I'm sure!).

We decided to take the double decker hop on and off bus. Tourist fools you say? Well, it was the best way to see every site and transport around town. The usual evening of internet cafe and gellato followed. Then back to "the cave" to soak our feet and rest in preparation of the next day's visual buffet of delights (men, food, retail, relics-whatever!)

Day 5: Casa di Crap

2006-03-30T16:19:00.000-08:00

After the evening strategy of figuring out how the hell to get all the way to Beauvias airport at 6am to catch our flight to Rome, we hauled our crap out to a cab and caught a shuttle bus to take us on the 70 minute drive up to the airport. Even the dumpy airport coffee is better than here in the USA. I waited to use the ladies figuring the actual toilet would beat whatever they had on the bus. I think whoever was in before me must have been dead inside because I've never experienced a smell as fucking tragic as that. Sorry to be gross, but Jesus Christ! And what do you say to the next chump in line after you-uhh, I SWEAR it wasn't me! Gak!

We navigated public transportation with ease from Ciampino airport in Italy to the amazing historic (and tourist haven) Rome. We found our apartment the Casa di Crispi, or Casa di Crap. G to-the hetto! Well, I've been in worse and at least it motivated us to stay out as much as possible. Nicknaming it "The Cave" we ventured out. Having read that pedestrians need to be aggressive in France and make their move, trusting that the driver is timing their pace, I foolishly thought the same of the drivers in Rome and strode out in front of an oncoming car. Apparently, they don't give a fuck if you are walking and my ass was almost grass.

It seemed quiet for such a bustling city, but as we tried not to twist our ankles on the cobblestone walking the 2 blocks to the Spanish Steps, I heard a soft murmur, then realized where all the people are in Rome. They congregate around the historic sites, or at one of the 8 million Fendi shops.

We made our rounds, hitting many a Piazza and the Trevi Fountain. It was too dark for me to get a picture, but it's beautiful in a massive, dramatic almost gaudy kind of way. The Pantheon is gorgeous and well restored. The ancients were pretty astute about their aqueduct systems and architectural resourcefulness.

I loved the energy of Italy. The men were hot and so were the women. Men stare hard at you while their arm is wrapped around the shoulders of their lady, who is always in the following uniform: 1) Big, dark designer sunglasses (with a purse that is similar), 2) skin-tight jeans tucked into kitten-heel boots, 3) Talking a mile a minute on their cell phone, waving their free had around dramatically. Seriously. It's very glam, like a happy marriage between Mission Hipster and Snob Hill chic.

I sampled my first Italian gellato. Never a huge fan, I conformed, eating it everynight in Rome. Hey, it helped ease the foot pain ok?

Day 4: V is for Victory

2006-03-30T15:53:00.000-08:00

Today, I walked to the Louvre. Never get sick of walking along the Seine, although it was raining, sunny and windy all at the same time. About half way there, my foot decided to crap out. The pain was so bad I realized that the tears pooling in my eyes were not from the blustery wind blasting against my face. I passed the golden warrior tipped posts every day. The photo doesn't do them justice.

The Louvre is a monster. You see it coming up and it's almost eerie how large and detailed the buildings are in Paris. It reminded me of dreams I used to have as a child. The line wasn't bad at all and I began my venture into the depths of the building, wishing I had a piece of leather to bite down on, or better yet pain killers to ease my throbbing foot. Ahh, the joys of age! That's right...30 biyatches!

There are three main sections. My interest of course revolving around the classical pieces like the Wings of Victory, and ancient Greek art. Oh yeah, I hoofed it over to see the Mona Lisa and Aphrodite of Melos (aka-Venus Demilo. I'm of the Greek scholar camp).

I recognized the charm and challenges that using a historic building as a museum entails. While the floors were rickety and warped, the sun beamed through windows on the ancient pieces, and I felt torn. Do you sacrifice the security of the object to house it within what can be constituted an artwork in itself, or preserve the object in totality, but de-personalize or contextualize the experience with a modern, vacuous space? Man, did I just take a pain killer? Nah, it's the reflective museum geek emerging. We have a similar challenge with the Old Mint, so despite my best efforts to avoid thoughts of work, the comparisons surfaced anyway.

Jump to the evening, I ate myself into sugar euphoria to kill the pain. Oh yeah.

Day 3: At least the "Thinker" got to sit

2006-03-21T20:31:00.000-08:00

I decided to make breakfast at the apartment (in an attempt to save money since a diet coke costs an average of $3 euro or about $4 American). Only one burner worked and the milk I bought had turned to lumpy mush overnight. The showers is Europe have improved in the way that at least you can stand and take a shower, not just rinse in a bath, but they still love to use the removable shower head (which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but there's a time and place for everything).

Luckily, we got an early start and after fueling up with espresso (not "to-go") we hoofed it over to the Rodin museum. I took a few photos of my favorite pieces. The girl in the hat was a claylike-reddish color and one of his lesser known, but more dramatic pieces.
The foot pain began as we walked to the museum (ironically past the Palace de Invalides), walked through the museum, walked through the gardens, and walked back to the apartment later. Despite eating French macaroons (soooooo goood), gourmet chocolates, fresh bread and full-fat milk everyday (we'll get to the pasta and gellato in Rome later), I managed to lose weight on this trip, I assume to all the walking, never breaking a sweat due to the frosty winds, rain and cold.

I am adding this in because I remember going, but am confused which day. We went to the Isle St. Louis, which is where the rich and swanky reside. It's an island on the river next to Notre Dame and the Isle Le Citie (uhh, I think that's right). Anyway, it's full of beautiful little shops (and one of the hottest men I've ever seen working in a artisan chocolatier-two of my favorite things) and the world famous ice creamery, which we were sure to indulge in.

DAY 2: The Parisian phallus

2006-03-17T12:48:00.000-08:00

We checked into our apartment located literally about 2-3 blocks from the Eiffel Tower. Say what you want, but it is beautiful and huge.
It was nice to have it as a focal icon while walking about keeping us oriented. After dropping our junk, we hit the tower. They charge you for each level you ascend, so we stopped at two, which has the best view anyway. It was FUCKING cold, but great nonetheless. This picture is a view of the Seine. I opted to walk down the stairs instead of taking the lift. The combo of jetlag, rain and lack of food made for a tumultuous climb down, which never seemed to end.

We then hit the Rue Cler, which was also about 3 blocks from the apartment. A prime shopping area-similar to the Farmer's Market with fresh Fromagerie, fish monger and vegetable stands. Oh yes, and I must not forget the Brasseries! We ate at a nicoise-specialty place which was tasty-I even scarffed the anchovies. Pity to anyone who had to pack in the coffin-like euro-elevator with me that day.

After stocking up on food for the apartment, we attempted to get our 3rd Cafe Au Lait for the day. The term "to go" isn't embraced in Europe, nor is BMF coffee ("big-mother fucking" in case you weren't familiar with that acronym). They stuck the espresso in a little plastic cup and cut a hole in a bar coaster, which I guess was to serve as a hot sleeve. Um, no..it didn't work.

DAY 1: AirFrance (or AirFucks?)

2006-03-17T12:39:00.000-08:00

Upon departure for France, I was greeted with a long-ass line. AirFrance proceeded to ignore my isle seat reservation and stick me in the middle row. What's French for "no fucking way!" I wasn't about to sit through an 11 hour flight sandwiched between some crying baby and sleazy yapper, so I negotiated with the guy at the boarding station to success.

Like the New Yorkers, the French have a bum rep. It's not so much that they are rude (like in any culture-we all have our individual assholes) but more impatient. I got lost debording in De Gaulle as I walked out some side door without going through customs or getting my luggage. I asked in my best French (and it got much better throughout my stay) two guards for directions, which they gave me half-assed, proceeding to mock me as I walked away. Finally went through customs only to walk out the door without my luggage. Much to my humility, I got a pass from the airline info desk (this apparently happens more often than you'd think) went back in and got my bag.

My shuttle was waiting with a very nice driver who proceeded to take us on the real Parisian version of Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. I've never heard as much annoying siren activity as in Paris, due to one of many inevitable strikes in effect. But I didn't care-it was beautiful, new and fabulous! The photos I took are black and white which I've always felt added to the aged romanticism of Europe.

My first day was at my hotel (this picture is the view from my room) and I ventured out, going to Notre Dame and exploring St. Germain. After it started to hail, I made my way back to the hotel and despite best efforts, fell asleep for many an hour.
Notre Dame is beautiful. There is a quiet hum as you enter and the stained glass sparkles down red and blue.

When in Rome

2006-03-12T09:49:00.000-08:00

This will be quick and dirty for now, probably full of misspellings since my screen is in Italian. After a two day hunt, I am sitting in an internet cafe in beautiful Rome. This is an AMAZING city, full of energy, history and beautiful people. Paris is fantastic as well. It's been fucking cold, raining non-stop in Paris. Rome gave us a lovely day (with some powerful winds) today. My first night in Paris was great-cute little hotel-great Cafe Au'laits. The apartment is ok-the Eiffel tower is pretty much outside our door. In Rome, ehe apartment (or as we refer to it as "the Cave") is a dump. But, all the more reason to stay outside among the hustle and bustle of the city. Europe is expensive and I do miss the convieneces of home (the term coffee "to go" isn't used much, cooking in the apartment is challenging, my hair so does not like the soft water and do they have to put extra butter, fat and creme on EVERYTHING? But who's complaining? The produce is vibrant shades of color and so fresh. The coffe is so good, you don't need sugar, and walking is a pleasure because the city is so beautiful to look at.

More detail to come upon return. Love to friends and family. If I'm lucky, I'll be sporting a madonnapsudo-Euro accent when I get back.

Make a wish...

2006-03-04T15:52:00.000-08:00

And so it began...

They say you are only as old as you feel. Well, then I'm screwed. I say, you are only as old as you look-in which case...giddyup.

Despite all the stress over the past few months, I have eagerly anticipated the big b-day and my trip. It's been like a light at the end of a distant tunnel, down which I've stumbled more than a few times. I'm fucking loving it and feel empowered in life. The kick-off was awesome, taking me back to my favorite childhood memory of my 7th birthday...piniata, chocolate and hord of friends (ok, minus the whiskey). And, of course it wouldn't be a proper birthday without a little self-humility and a hell of a lot of debauchery.

Thank you to all my wonderful friends for making my 30th the best ever. Goodtimes! (oh, and that's a chainsaw you pervs)

"drive unicorn with ligament"

2006-02-17T11:28:00.000-08:00

Ok, before you read on to my Eore-like ranting below, let me explain the new title of this post. My original title was "It takes a lickin' but..." - see then I got this awesome "suspect" spam email with the above title and figured this is just too weird not to get an honorable mention.

ANYWAY!

Well. I wish this could be an awesome self-healing, yadda, yadda fluff post, but alas, life would prefer to keep me in a state of negative self-defeat. Sooo sahweet.

So my loves, you won't be losing me to the glories of rainy Seattle, but maybe to the streets of SF? I've made enough friends with the junkies, bums and hookers at my building to warrant some good street advice I suppose. Ok, well maybe things aren't that dramatically bad. But, they sure as hell aren't going well fo'shizzle.

My job, my home, my health are all in limbo. Stress + frustration = psycho dani-darko. See, I'm already babbling nonsense on my blog. All I can do is focus on my birthday, my great friends and my trip (which I probably can't afford now, but what the fuck, right?).

Ok-let's play

2006-02-04T19:31:00.000-08:00

According to the "Which Big Lebowski character are you?" quiz:

Why don't you check it out? Or we cut off your Johnson!

Tough choices

2006-02-01T15:13:00.000-08:00

We all have to make tough choices in life. It would be great to enable a Charles Dickens analogy and view what life would be like having made a different decision. We make these choices with regards to love, money, environment...the list goes on and on. Some decisions are made out of fear, some from forced circumstance. There are so many factors that lend themselves to shaping our lives, that I suppose a Dickens situation isn't really possible.

I was recently flown to Seattle, all expenses paid, to interview for a position with another company. One that oozes with money. But move to Seattle? I've lived in SF my whole life. But, can SF address my desires and life plan? What if I want a family? I'm not too keen on my options here so far. What if I don't always want to be the one forced to compromise? What if I hate the job and I'm stuck there? What if this, what if that? Is is fortuitous that at the same time, my current project is starting to sink like the Titanic? Taking over in its current state would be like volunteering as captain of a sinking ship. Suicide. Because the captain is supposed to go down with the ship. (Just thought I'd spell that metaphor out for you in case it wasn't all that obvious). I guess life is about taking chances. Why waste time with regrets when nothing can be done to change past decisions. Sigh. I need to re-read the lessons learned post, because you can learn from the past. Uhh, right?

Do things happen for a reason? Can we control our lives or is there such a thing as karma and/or fate? I mean, my immediate concerns have revolved around planning my trip and hoping to get a fucking "missed connection" posted in my honor on CL before my birthday. Ego driven, sure. I have a missed connection of my own. With an answer. But I guess that's one I'll have to create. No, I didn't smoke anything. Just reflecting. What would the lord almighty say...

Exciting times! (well, for me anyway)

2006-01-31T13:09:00.000-08:00

Damn blogger! This site deleted my first draft, and all its witticisms. So the following is an attempt at rehash what I originally wrote about.

So, I thought I'd start detailing the travel process and plans for my excursion to Europe. After a frustrating attempt to secure the best airfare deal, I scheduled departure just after my big-ol' 30th b-day, a date on which I expect all my readers to come out and alter their consciousness with me!I figured as a gift to myself (although, I justify a lot of these) I would stay at a swank hotel my first night on my own. I booked the http://www.rivesdenotredame.com/ which I got for a pretty good deal. It's centrally located in the heart of the Latin Quarter/Notre Dame district. I'm racking my brain to remember any of the French I was fluent in as a child so that I don’t make too much of an Americanized ass out of myself while traveling.

About a week into the trip, we'll make the excursion to Rome where I can revel in my partial Italian roots. We'll be staying at an apartment somewhere in the Navona square and Campo dè Fiori district, or potentially the Spanish Steps area, which hopefully won't be as noisy and obnoxious as the more touristy areas. I look forward to having my ass grabbed by hot Italian men.
On the subject of assgrabbery, quick side story: My aunt went to Italy a few years ago at the age of 62. She hadn't been since she was young and reminisced (fondly) about how the men ogled, etc. Worried that they wouldn't find (in her words) "an old fucking broad" all that appealing anymore, she walked up to an attractive young man and asked him to grab her ass. Turns out he was an American tourist there with his lady and well...not feeling all that adventurous. But I digress. After about 4 days, we return to Paris to "decompress" for the flight home mid-month.

Originally, I'd planned to visit Greece because my friend is studying there on scholarship, but turns out she won't be anywhere central during the time I could go and also with her new love, so I didn't want to impose. I'll save the Greece trip for another time, when I can give it my full attention and combine it with a trip to Turkey. Even though I saw most of the art studied during my undergrad at the British Museum a few years ago, Greece and Istanbul are two of my top places to visit, aside from Australia, Japan and Madagascar.

I'll be posting any adventures and experiences in between my usual psychotic ramblings on the blog. You can bypass that if you prefer the ramblings.

Clarity rhymes with parody (well, sort of)

2006-01-19T13:55:00.000-08:00

Have you ever watched a cat freak out for no apparent reason? Kitty is just sitting peacefully, then all of a sudden, it's like a fire cracker went off under him and he jumps up, hauling ass to no where in particular? That's what I've been like this week. I like a little stress in my life-keeps things live and interesting. But, I'm painfully aware of my erratic behavior too. It's like watching a train wreck in slow-mo. Blame it on hormones, work, or whatever.

I have a lot of things in the works. Just booked my trip to Europe, a conference in Monterey, a job interview in Seattle...plan, planning, plans. Anyway, maybe it's all the future potential excitement that's tweaking me out. Or, maybe it's that inherited psychosis I knew would emerge at some point. You say potato...

It's all about communication. I think miscommunication is so rampant. And, you get into a pattern of dealing with certain people in a certain way. The problem is that you also tend to pre-analyze what that other person is thinking, feeling, etc., based on your own preconceived bias. In my brain, this makes sense, but you may not know what the hell I'm talking about. Point being...try...as hard as it may be...to listen fully to what is being said. Don't formulate an opinion until you are crystal clear. Ask questions and don't over analyze. Trust that it will save you time, reduce confusion and emotional exhaustion.

Happy New Year 2006

2006-01-03T13:42:00.000-08:00

While I really wanted to post on NY day, my computer at work is faster (so much for the resolution of cultivating patience!).

December was an interesting month. Tried to go to “hipster central” for one last groove fest with some friends, but it was closed.
Not to be deterred from our mission to dance, we wound up at HotPants where I was twirled around the dancefloor by a pseudo-lesbian within the first 20 minutes, while Barbarella and random 80's workout videos projected on various walls. It was like that scene in Labyrinth where she falls down that hole and all the hands are grabbing her asking "Up or down?" I haven't gotten groped that much since my rave days (good god..looong ago!). The grooving fems and ladies made me miss my old friends from the Academy. Many a drunken Tuesday night we had spent at The Café drinking $1.50 Tequila Sunrises (gimmie a break-I was 21!), while I whined that I never met any hot guys (ok, that weren't gay). Duh! I did actually once meet up with a date there-a cute vegan, outdoor enthusiast, aspiring filmmaker fella from Le Video, who I had scoped out while with my former to-be, now long-since ex-boyfriend. Got that? Only in SF would such a statement roll off the tongue to a total understanding listener!

NYE proper was ok. We saw some good bands for a decent price, though I realized it's not trying to plan something on NYE that's frustrating, it's the dumbass drunks in khakis and button-ups or halters and strappy heels who stagger around, smacking you against a wall trying to shove their sloppy tongues down their date’s throat. Bleck!

Oops, but I digress. Anyway, this is the New Year and I am proud to say I have fulfilled many goals aspired from the last few years. What does 2006 hold? Travel for sure-planning a trip to Europe, celebrating (yes-CELEBRATING...not mourning) the 30th birthday. Art, art and more art-creative outlets are a must! And whatever the hell else I want. Saw a lot of great bands in 2005 and hope to see more. Well, there is SO MUCH to look forward to in life right? Can't detail every thing on a blog and one should always remain flexible, as to experience all the more in life...and be surprised too.

Salute everyone! See you on the horizon...

A Year in Review

2005-12-12T14:37:00.000-08:00

Well, 2005 has been quite a year. It feels like time just flew by. It's been an interesting year full of good times and hard lessons. On a personal note, it has been a progressive year in self-reflection and understanding. Maybe it's the acupuncture, but I definitely have undergone quite a bit of mental and physical transformation. The gist of what I have come to realize is that everything that affects us is a lesson in disguise. Sometimes the toughest of lessons are the best ones. What can you take away from every experience, every moment of awareness? I spewed a bunch of perspectives and experiences in past posts, inspired by both good and bad things I went through or witnessed. Some were tough, but I like to think I got something out of every situation, creating inner strength. I'm closing this year with a bit of an "even Steven" feeling.

It reminds me of when I was a little kid-soooo sensitive. I'd balk when people stepped on leaves on the ground or used terms like "retard." Loser you say? Maybe, but I like to think gentle and sweet. Then I went to public school and that shit just didn't fly-seemed like my feelings were always hurt. I had to toughen up-became a bit of a punk-ass (participating in childish pranks like crank calling, tearing down my neighbors Xmas lights, stabbing a whiney brat in the leg with a pencil..you get the idea). I got hard and cold. “Fuck that, them and it all” became a mantra. But now, I realize there is a way to function in between. We don't have to be doormats, should embrace our independence, yet acknowledge that we are indeed human and have feelings-and, well...that's ok. We are good enough, strong enough and god-damn it...people like us. And if they don't, who cares. Like yourself.

So my children, the final moral of the 2005 story is: Don’t trade any moment, no matter how painful or ridiculous, because to have experienced something is better than nothing at all. The good times certainly outweigh the bad.

Oh, and did I mention Bruce Campbell?

Game on!

2005-11-17T10:19:00.000-08:00

So,thanks to my nepotistic (is that even a word?) connections, I scored prime-o seats (in the VIP suite mind you!) to the Sharks game. Now, I am a bit more of an "against the glass cuz I wanna smell and see the blood" kinda gal, but really can't complain. There was a friggin lounge and free water, and VIP parking, which unlike Candelstick, was actually in close proximity to the stadium! Before I get into the experience, let me just first relay a unique sighting on the ride down to San Jose where the stadium is. As my friend and I were driving, I look to my right and see a little yellow car (some kind of Toyota or Honda type of compact) with a life size wind-up key rotating on the back. Easily amused, I start to laugh, but then see the driver (it was also a convertible). He looked like the poorman's version of Tom Selleck with a mullet and diamond earring.
My laughter was drowned out by the radio blasting "goodybumps" or whatever the hell that new song is called by the Blackeyed Peas. Very surreal.

Anyway, back to the game. I think of sporting events as my excuse to eat like a Titan. We set up camp in the lounge and after chatting with our respective suite mates, visited the concierge for a map of food stations (oh, and they serve REAL alcohol as well). I went with a bento box (sushi at a stadium? risky-yes, I know), while my friend got a polish dog and we split a box of popcorn shrimp and fries. My gut still has not forgiven me for that outrage and even though we were already doubled over in pain, figured "when in Rome" and got a chocolate dip cone and a chocolate-chip cookies ice cream sandwich. Despite his cast-iron stomach, he was hurting too.

So, the Sharks were shamed (our goalie should be bitch-slapped) after a decent start by the Canucks, who weren't even that good themselves. Canada scored two goals in the 3rd period and it was over. What happened?! The Sharks made a name for themselves...what...four years ago with such a strong start, then never recovered. I didn't have high hopes, but expected at least more than one fight as consolation. Come on boys-get with the program!

Anyway-a goodtime was had for sure. One day, I will be plastered against the glass in NY cheering on the Rangers, amongst the bone-crunching, testosterone pumping blood of the hot, denture wearing players. One can dream....

All Hallows Eve...again...

2005-11-04T14:23:00.000-08:00

So, it's been a whole year since I started this blog last September, generating interest among my growing readership with images and recounts of the infamous and now legendary Halloween Party at the Old Mint. (Picture the sarcasm dripping from these words). We didn't realize that party would be so cool and I still run into people who start telling me about a great party they went to last year in that building. I'm like "I threw that shit!" I do wish I could've enjoyed it more as an attendee, but was too busy running around-hell I wasn't even drunk! Regardless, I'm glad it was enjoyed by all.

Most years, I can never get a costume in time and wind up throwing something together at the last minute. Last year, my friend helped me put together a grand costume as a peacock. This year, I lost my nerve for my costume which involved a skintight body suit and not much else (I'll save that one for next year). So, I went with the lame back-up of "rocker a go-go devil chick" also called "my alter ego."

I wasn't sure what to do this year. Most friends were out of town and the last time I went to the Castro district, I was nearly trampled by riot police and stuck with needles by asswipes from San Jose. Luckily, my friend works at the Castro Theater and this year invited me to their staff party, saving me from the self-degradation of strapping on a candy feedbag while watching Goulies II at home. How awesome to be able to view the crowd from above, while not having to be submerged in the mess. I definitely felt superior...even more so than usual. I didn't have high hopes for the evening when we walked into the Castro and the police confiscated my pitchfork. Good thing I left the real one at home. Anyway, so after downing a few glasses of two-buck-chuck, some whiskey and sangria, I started to get into it. At one point I startled a guy in a Jesus suit by yelling, "Hey Jesus!" in my most obnoxious drunken voice. He looked like he was about to piss his robe and birkenstocks. In order to protect associated parties at this event, unfortunately a few details of the evening will have to go unaccounted. What happens in the Castro stays in the Castro, right?

I took a walk later with a new friend to the Men's Room bar. They hadn't seen many "real" women in there to drink, so the moment I walked in they were like "the ladies bathroom is in the back!" My eyes glittered with the amber hue of the full line-up of whiskey behind the bar as I proclaimed my intention to drink. They all loved me then. I spent a lot of time talking to "Jim" the wasted drunk guy dressed as a Furbie, while another guy hugged my waist and serenaded me with a slurry version of "Roxanne."
Need I say it? Good times.

Liar Liar

2005-10-20T13:48:00.000-07:00

Now, let me intro this by saying, this post is not necessarily the result of a recent occurrence per say (although I'm also not saying it isn't), but just a personal ideology that I'd like to reiterate. Don't know if I've ever discussed this in past posts, but I hate liars. Or should I say, being lied to.

In my opinion, being honest is the best way to go in the long run. I'm not necessarily advocating "tough love" or the type of brutal honesty that would hurt someone's feelings. Just being honest with oneself and others. That's not too hard is it? Uhh, yeeaahhh...Sure, little white lies or exaggerations are part of our social existence. But all too often, people lie for what they believe is for the sake of the other, when in fact it's only to make themselves feel better. "Huh" you say? I think you get it. On the flip-side, many people don't want to hear the truth, but they are lying to themselves in the long-run, which is even worse.

I think basically people know when people are lying to them. I've always prided myself of being pretty confident in knowing when I'm being lied to. What angers me is not the truth, as tough as it can be to hear, but the audacity of the other stating the lie. I'm always amazed that despite being as open as possible (seriously, I don't have many secrets) and telling others that no matter what, they can be honest-because I may not agree, but will respect them more in the long run-all too often, they just can't do it. Honestly, I may be on a pedestal, but I do know what's best for society. Umm, ok-maybe that's stretching the truth a bit.

A time of peace

2005-10-12T14:18:00.000-07:00

I love the fall. I think Autumn is my favorite season, not just for the weather but the food-giddyup! But back to my point. There's something about the air and light that is so peaceful. I had a few odd habits growing up. I used to sit on my covered porch when it would rain and read with some tea. It was the only way I could turn off my brain and just be. My favorite times of the day are right when the sun rises (which I always miss due to the sandman dosing me in the wee hours of the am) and right when the sun starts to set in the eve. If it's a cool and clear day, the air has a crisp and fresh smell, the light is soft but bright, and there are a few seconds when there is no urban noise and all you can hear are the leaves lightly rustling. I really try to focus during these few minutes-as the dim orange light shimmers through the leaves of a tree-looking at the details that we never notice from day-to-day. Fall is a magical time for a reason. The wiccans had it right.

Bloodlines

2005-10-03T21:27:00.000-07:00

They say blood is thicker than water. On a compound basis...well, no shit. But in the philosophical sense, I'm not sure I agree. Cry me a fucking river. I just found out that I'm an aunt. Yep, I have two half brothers, and apparently one just became a dad at the ripe old age of 27 (or maybe 28?). He almost became a dad at 16, but lucked out with a false alarm. Maybe sex ed isn't taught in much detail up there in the skirts of WA. Someone should learn to keep his stallion in the corral if you know what I mean. Hell, I don't even know what I mean.

Anyway, it makes me sad sometimes that I have these two brothers that I never bonded with and that I met for the first time when I was 16. I liked the youngest, who was about the age of 11. He talked with such enthusiasm about bugs and firecrackers, and boyish pranks. The slightly older one was already in puberty-asshole mode at 15. Believe me, I tried to relate and stay in touch after my dad and I stopped talking (now, there's some unconscious emotional baggage for ya!), but to be honest, I just never liked him much. His ego has no bounds (hey-this is my fucking blog so I'm entitled to be egocentric mind you) and talks endlessly about how knowledgeable and brilliant he is about life, politics, world affairs, or pretty much anything. But guess what? He's a bum. He barely works, had a semi-junkie girlfriend for a while, never attained anything professionally or academically, and only thinks to contact family when he wants something. I don't judge people if they haven't finished school or don't have a high paying job. Some of the most intelligent and talented people I know never got a degree or made more than $20k in a year. But, they have ambition for something. Weather they have creative talent or are just eager to live and experience life, I hold that in higher regard than someone who blows hot air out of their ass.
I have a cousin who got by in life on his looks, but is pretty much a disgusting excuse for a human being. Yet, certain family members continue to support him and protect him even when he cheats other family members, lies, steals or whatever drama. Sure people make mistakes and I get the whole family loyalty thing, but I've had friends in life who constituted what the real meaning of "family" should be as opposed to someone I just share some DNA make-up with. People can change. I really hope this new life inspires my brother to better his.

This blog is full of cliche's, but look closely. Behind every cliche lies a lesson, and you are never too old to learn.

Something's gotta give

2005-09-20T15:11:00.000-07:00

Warning-there's a bunch of profanity in this one.

Ok. So, bear with me as I rant. My relations with the male species this past month have been sub-par to say the least. And, as you may know from previous posts, my attempts at domestic travels have also been less than "relaxing" and/or "vacation" like. First there was the Miami fiasco, then a Tahoe trip that resulted in my being sideswiped in a rented car without coverage that I thought I had, a trip to LA during a flash flood, another trip to Tahoe where I got super ill and lost my voice completely for a week, an attempt at a romantic getaway to some hot springs with the unexpected arrival of the crimson wave and slaying (by accident mind you) of rodent wildlife, and most recently...another trip to LA resulting in a nasty fight with a male "friend." I suffered through a few trials and tribulations in the romance department this year and yet another yelling match with my former boss. Oh fucking joy!

Now, my schedule for this two-three week period includes the following: on the personal level-two weddings, a massive family visit and brunch prep for 50, and on the professional level-two film productions, a large-scale work fundraiser, a photo shoot with a local media magazine, and a partridge in a fucking pear tree. And now...drum roll please, a four week jury duty assignment! Hmm-my stress level has soared beyond the usual "constant state of rage" level. There's only so much exercise I can abuse my body through and can't even make my relaxing acupuncture appointments thanks to this new schedule. Here's the positive: I'm no longer stressed, but actually find it amusing now. It's like everything that can go wrong-has/is/and will. I start laughing because it's so fucking funny at this point. What can I do? The world won't end right? As long as my laughter doesn't turn maniacal, we are all good and safe. I know in my heart (yes, I do have one and no it's not a block of cold, black ice) that things could be worse. I have it pretty damn good. But hey, this is my fucking blog and I'll bitch if I want to! Beats bottling it all up or taking it out on my sweet friends. Serenity now...Insanity later.

From the ashes the Phoenix rises?

2005-09-01T15:47:00.000-07:00

They say things need to get worse before they get better. Or something along those lines. Not to jinx myself, but things are pretty shitty right now. It's amazing. Sometimes I feel like I have a bullseye target on me that the Universe likes to use for spitting practice.

The later half of August has been less than great, leaving me in the wake of potential job/financial crisis, three computer crashes (including my brand new laptop and work) and heartbreak.
Sahweet! (oh, do you sense the sarcasm in that one?) At least the stress has made me focus all my energy into working out and not eating, the upshot losing a few pounds. Now, if I could only lose my emotional baggage too, my spirit would be light as a feather.

I like to believe everything that happens, both good and bad, are lessons to be learned. I am learning more about myself as a person and the things I want in life. I've decided a little adventure is in order. So, the plus side of my job dilemma would be that I would sublet and get the hell out of dodge. I'm still working on what I get from the other hardships. If anything, I am a stronger person as a result. Today is the first day of September. A day for new beginnings? The lesson lies in that everyday should be viewed as a new beginning. None of the "I'll start Monday" "In the new year maybe" "On the first of the month" bullshit. Embrace everyday and be sure to observe, feel, think something new each time. Hell, reading my blog is enlightening enough, right?

I know where the caveman sings

2005-08-17T14:09:00.000-07:00

I'd never been to a football game before. In fact, I haven't been to anything but baseball games, but that was years ago before my protest of the Giants and that new (although quite sweet) stadium. My former boss unloaded his premium season tickets on me for the 49rs vs. Raiders game. Lower level, 18th row, VIP parking. I guess I didn't appreciate the value of the tickets, having asked one of my guy friends to go. All my girls were jealous-who knew? All I cared about was the amount of blood splattered that I'd get to witness (sadly, it's not like my fav hockey), and the junky stadium food I'd get to scarf down. As we drove into the parking lot, I pressed our golden VIP parking passes against the window and mocked the poor suckers trekking in from the mile-away public parking. Once in, finding a spot was still a challenge. Every car was a huge, thugged-out RV flanked by lawn chairs and BBQ grills taking up spaces on either side. We finally wedged ourselves in between two Yukons and went in, got our seats and acquired our grub. It seems like every guy in the park was huge-a mix of girth and bulk, with rolled skin around their necks that closely resembled the hot dogs we were eating. Semi-shaved heads, with a mullet or three, baggy jerseys and pants hanging down their asses as far as the eye could see. The women were a combo of white trash (many sporting a mullet similar to their male counterparts) or semi-thugged out hoochies.
Now, "Monster Park" (formerly known as Candlestick) is damn cold. I felt like I was in Miami again. Who the hell wears jeweled strappy heels and halter tops to an evening football game I ask? Maybe the ladies were looking to score their own touchdown (ok, that pun sucked).

Anyway, during halftime I got caught in the professional sports game mosh pit equivalent. One guy gyrating amongst the chest bumping, beer spewing fans was dressed as "Duffman." That was my highlight of the evening, along with watching the 49rs mascott (a lame-ass goldminer who looks like Yosemite Sam) try to jump around on a po-go stick.

Oh, and yes the game. My problem with football is the constant stops in play. They huddle. They throw. They scrub. Then, regroup for 5 minutes. The remaining play-times are a joke. It's like in an Indiana Jones movie where he's trying to get out of a room and the walls are closing in. In real time, he would've been squashed in seconds, but each cut shows the walls slightly further apart. Uhhmm, ok-so hopefully you see my point. Anyway, the 49rs embarrassed themselves with the new quarterback (replacing him at the end of the 2nd), but turned it around by the 3rd quarter with no hope for the Raiders. We cut out just shy of the end of the 4th quarter to avoid 3 hours in traffic gridlock.

All in all-it was ok. From a sociological perspective it was amusing. I spent most of the game trash talking, not the players, but the fans. Game on!

R.I.P. Biyatch

2005-08-08T15:43:00.000-07:00

I didn't have time to swerve I swear. He ran in front of my car too fast. I thought he would go between the wheels, but when I looked back, he did the road kill roll. I hate to see animals hurt or killed, unless I am eating them in a non-identifiable form from the market. Anyway, RIP little squirrel. I'll see you in hell.

The rest of the mini-break was awesome. I'd never gone to a hotspring before. The folks up there are a little hippie-dippy. And places that suggest clothing optional areas should also provide blinders for some of us. Just kidding. I used to be an artist. I can find beauty in just about anything. The rest of the week was funfilled. I got drunk. Bought some sweet art. Got to hang with my friends. Spent time outside. I definitely needed some fun after the visit from the family (see Little Napoleon post). Yes, they did get drunk. Yes, they did fight. There's something so wrong about a 20-something reprimanding her 60-70-something family members about their infantile behavior, ya know?

Anyway, the show really reminded me how much I love to work with artists, plan stuff, boss people around. While I really miss creating art myself, I don't miss the frustration of my skills not meeting the expectation of what I am trying to create. So, I choose to find inspiration and release in other's artistic visions. Wait-who wrote that? Maybe the hippie flow of the hotsprings did have an effect...

Little Napoleon

2005-07-28T11:16:00.000-07:00

I've been called worse. Actually, I take it as a compliment. Afterall, he was a pint-sized powerhouse...ok...and maybe a bit of a dictator. I needed to channel my inner Napoleon during this week of work hell. I got into a yelling match with my former boss (note the "former"). He can't seem to get it that I make decisions and he does need to answer to me with regard to certain things. Like a few men I've known, his voice gets all high pitch when he's arguing and his eyes manage to both bug and squint at the same time. How's that for an image?

Anyway, a few members from the "goodfella" side of my family are visiting this weekend. Those visits usually involve high quantities of food and alcohol abuse. I may stay away. I've been behaving myself in those areas this past month. Plus, one of the "platinum" members of the family is getting hitched this September, so the hoard will be out. Weddings in my family usual consist of a 5 minute ceremony (do you? yeah, do you? yeah), followed by a 5 hour booze fest. Some past antics have included fistfights and spills on the dance floor, and it's the only time aside from visiting the Castro district on Halloween that you see the men wearing more hairspray and jewelry than the women. Ah, good times.

The devil made me do it

2005-07-11T14:46:00.000-07:00

I drafted this post earlier in the month and went on this amazing tangent about religion only to accidentally delete that portion. So, I'll do my best to recap.

Ok, so I work in an area of downtown that some might find...challenging. I view it like an obstacle course. I get panhandled and manhandled every 1/2 block by nut jobs that the city and society has decided to discard. I walk through a wall of flies and urine to access my building and open my shutters to the beautiful downtown sun and daily sexploits of the local perves and/or junkies. Last night, some guy went nuts and decided to throw what I can only assume were rocks at the windows of the building I work in. This building is the oldest stone structure built in 1869 and is an icon of the city's history. As a native from SF and historic preservationist, I appreciate the value of such a place. So when some doped up freak decides to graffiti, piss and/or vandalize a unique piece of history, I start to lose my faith in humanity.

I once had a discussion with an unnamed family member that put me in a state of awe, pity and shame. We were watching some news program about former atheists who had a near death experience, or something along those lines, that changed their religious perspective to the total opposite extreme. My family member said something about those who don't believe in the afterlife will be without respect for human life and have no morals, yadda, yadda. I thought he was kidding and my amused disbelief turned to slight horror, than rage because that ignorant observation was not a joke. I made a point of saying that just because people don't believe they will be rewarded in the next life will not make it their mission to cause suffering in this one. What makes it acceptable for some disgusting primate of a human to rape, torture and/or kill someone, then be forgiven in the eyes of "man" or a "higher being" because they chose to accept "god" before being put out of their misery? Frankly, I come from the school of "I don't pretend to know what the fuck will happen to me when I die." I'll know..well...when I die (if I even have a sense of "awareness" or "knowing" which I doubt because of the lack of brain function and all from being..well...dead!). Many of the more popular organized religions have a way of presenting "fun" things as bad. Frankly, if I have to spend my whole life on this earth repenting bad things I haven't done or don't intend to do, or maybe do partake in but which doesn't hurt anyone else...I'd rather join the disco party in hell.

It's the wave of the future

2005-07-07T13:14:00.000-07:00

Just returned from another mini vacation. If you've read past posts (and I know you have. Repeatedly. Because I am that damn entertaining!), you'd know that my last few attempts at taking vacations haven't been all that successful. My body seems to think that any change in environment provides license to get all fucked up, either by getting sick, the flu-or some weird ailment. For this instance, it was a last minute (literally the day I was leaving) lymphatic infection in my jaw that proceeded to my gums. Sah-weet!

So, I doped up on antibiotics, vicodine and ambisol and hit the town of Boise, Idaho. It was pretty hot, but a dry heat, which was tolerable. The hottie I was shacking up with just got there himself and so we didn't have any running water in the house until the next day. Nothing like manually flushing pee laced with antibiotics. Sah-weet! (Ok-I'm done with that term-I swear).

Boise is a quiet town (with the exception of Independence Day were locals come out in droves to blow shit up in parking lots and smoke out the tourists. I mean, there wasn't much in the way of bookstores and the library had an exclamation point at the end of the title. Literally (sorry for the pun) it was...LIBRARY! Take one part hick, two part outdoor enthusiast, a pinch of white trash and a dash of polite and you got the makings of an Idahoian. Actually, people were pretty cool, if not a little slow. We hit a bar that looked seedy and promising. The bar tendress served up some whisky and an attitude as we played pool and listened to the karaoke renderings of a bunch of country songs I'd never heard before. I perked up and sang along to Sir-Mix-A-Lot's Baby Got Back, gave a good post song hoot and pool queue stomp having felt that the singer didn't get the props she deserved for her rendition.

I went camping. Yes. Me. Camping. You can take the girl out of the city, but not the city out of the girl. But, it was beautiful. We scored an amazing site on the way up to the Sawtooth mountains. I think I did damn well considering that the last (and only) time I've camped was at the populated Russian River when I was 8 years old. I got sun poisoning and barfed hotdogs for two days. This time was definitely better as was the company. Frankly, I love nature. I just hate insects. Oh, and pissing in the woods is never fun for girls. Regardless, I know know more of what to expect so that next time, I'll be totally prepared (like a good lil boyscout). I thrive on new experiences and hope to have many more.

It's a little bittersweet to be back to the attitude, dysfunction and bustle of civilization. But now I can look forward to the next adventure in travels.

Where's my airborne bitch?!

2005-06-27T14:42:00.000-07:00

I had to leave the BC stuff up for a while. I'm still coming down from my "nerd-high" having met the king of awesome one liners.

It was gay pride weekend, which is always done with plenty of fevor in San Francisco. I decided to take a walk to a bar in the Mission, passing through the Castro District on the way. I couldn't help by snap my fingers to the blaring beat of Donna Summers pumping out of a huge party buss with gay.com and a greased up shirtless hunk on the side. The passengers were parked outside of the Metro bar, drinking, semi-nude, some wearing cowboy hats. Looked like a giddyupping good time. Nothing like a "transportation party" (see ring-a-ding ding post) to kick off the weekend.

I'm going to Boise in a few days. I'm a little nervous because it's definitely not what comes to mind when I think "city" and I can't help but wonder what'd the locals in Idaho would think of images described above. Would they embrace it? Accept it even? If not, it's too damn bad because those boys can party. I have to remember not everyone grew up with an open-minded, liberal upbringing as most of my friends and I did. I pity people who are so close-minded that they protest equal rights for any and everyone. How does it fucking affect them who is allowed to get a marriage license? Maybe a possible solution is to give those troublemakers a slice of ecstasy iced wedding cake and let the good times roll...

Now...I am complete

2005-06-15T10:24:00.000-07:00

Oh, and here's a fan letter I wrote to him. Yes....I really did. Man, I suck! Please don't judge me.

Dear Bruce,

I just had the pleasure of making your acquaintance in SF for your book tour and promotion of the "Man with the Screaming Brain." Thanks for initiating the generic small talk and feigning interest in what I do for a living. I wish I had the nerve to ask that you write "workshed" in my book or make a sarcastic comment about how big the font is in your new book, but I didn't want to run the risk of you having me hauled out of the theater.

I think you are awesome and found my wait in line, flanked in a nerd sandwich well worth the hour and a half. I also enjoyed the Q&A session. You have a great smart-ass wit and rarely have I seen anyone field so many lame questions with such vigor and rapid "kiss my ass" come backs. If the Tsunami did hit, I would’ve been glad to be at the Balboa listening to you.
Keep it all coming-you rock!

Signed,

One of your cooler fans

2005-06-15T10:23:00.000-07:00

Seriously, look at the wrists

2005-06-15T10:21:00.000-07:00

A line up of classics

Be cool baby

2005-06-15T09:54:00.000-07:00

He yelled that after a group of big punk guys went ballistic at seeing him. I found myself in a nerd sandwich as I waited for an hour to see Bruce. My patience wore thin as a guy cut in front of me to hang with his fellow geeks and discuss how he should move to Hollywood because he loves celebrities and meets them all the time, oh...and that his dad is a neuroscientist. Once the conversation turned to Star Trek, I tuned out and tried not to grab what little hair he had left and haul his ass out of line for cutting me.

Anyway, I finally got my turn. BC told me he liked the color of my coat and that he had a lot of lavender on his property. It's ok if he's a little color blind..I mean he's Bruce Campbell. We made lame small talk as he asked me what I did for a living. Then we read from his book and took a photo. Awesome. The main thing I noticed about him was that he had chubby wrists. Anyway-I was amped. Though the "Man with the Screaming Brain" is not his best work, it was great because he acted in, wrote and directed it. The Q&A follow up was a bit painful. Bruce is great-kind of a prick, but fielded the inevitable lame-ass questions with lots of vigor and plenty of "kiss my ass" throw backs. I wanted to get into character and yell "Say workshed!", but thought better of it. I also wanted to ask him if Steve Martin was suing for copyright infrigement. See the movie, and you'll understand.

All around, it was totally worth freezing my ass off for an hour in line. Got my book signed, met the man, and all it cost was a little dignity. Groovy.

Zzzzzz, huh-oh yeah...a post

2005-06-13T14:51:00.000-07:00

Good god. What the hell was I thinking. I stayed up on Friday night until 4:30am (technically Sat am), slept till 11am, then got up. I then stayed up till 5:30am on Saturday night (technically Sunday am), slept until about 10am, got then got up. Let me say this. I am tired. I now break into a cold sweat when I start to hear the birds chirping at the morning sunrise. I admit, I did snatch a nap or two, but nothing to write home about. I dragged my ass around the Haight Street Fair on Sunday, got sunburned (yeah, yeah...see "lessons learned post").

I think I've taken my own advice a little too far (see post about living life to the fullest). Now I'm fucked for the day. I just juiced myself with my second huge cup of "awake" tea and four splenda. That makes a total of eight splenda for the day. I know..it's gross. I read splenda is good because it's made from sugar. I also read that it causes addictive symptoms like irritability, stomach problems, headaches, withdrawl. I say giddyup. Everything is good for you, but really bad for you right? Or is it the other way around?

Anyway, my roommate just moved out after his one year deal. I have my place back and for the first time, it's really officially all mine. No junk stored by my family. No visitors. Mine. Sure I'm tired and maybe a little poisoned from my splenda intake. But happy. Sweet dreams!

Time flies

2005-06-01T18:28:00.000-07:00

We are now at the 1/2 year mark. Six months into the "new" year already. I think as I get older, time seems to go by much faster. When I was young, it was always a forever wait to get to the next "stage" of life. Supposed sweet sixteen, then eighteen to become legal, ahem yes..vote and all that, then twentyone-the final push to be able to party like an adult (although by that point I had burnt out a bit).

Anyway, sometime around twentyfive I started to feel like time was going by a little too fast. The years that previously seemed to drag were now flashing past. Kinda like a rollercoaster climb to the top (the anticipation and uncertainty seem to take forever)...then over the "hill" (ok-that pun sucked)...and then holyshitimgunnaralph dooowwnnnnn the steep. I suppose the best part of this new time/reality adjustment (or whatever you want to call it) is that my weekends come much faster.

Anyway, I did have a point to this post (don't I always?) and it does reflect a certain level of adult wisdom (or at least borrowed wisdom). So much can change when time is going by all the faster. This year started out pretty shitty and stressful, but now...so far...it has redeemed itself and is turning out pretty great. I can give solid props to 2005 as of this first day of June. If life is going to go by so quick, I'll be sure to make the most of it. The cliche is true-make most of the time you have, after all you only live once.

Lessons learned? Not so much

2005-05-24T10:19:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-20T14:26:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-04T15:25:00.000-07:00

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...

2005-05-01T10:38:00.000-07:00

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...

Ring a ding ding

2005-04-23T21:42:00.000-07:00

So, I actually did it. I'm one of them. The same people I laugh at, have cursed at, and nearly threw stuff at. Yes...I rode the "Party Cable Car." We were sure to avoid the Mission for fear that people would do all those things I mentioned above. I was sure to suggest the Marina, North Beach and such since they are used to sites like ours. Drunk, high and yelling at passerbys, our party toasted to our youth on board a motor-run cable car. But you know, it was fun. We started to get a little green as we headed out towards the Palace of Fine Arts. We never got off, except for an occassional bar hop or unless the boys had to take a leak in the bushes. That is my one envy of man. The ease in which they can urinate in semi-public space.

But back to my story. Despite being ill, I went out and celebrated my friend's birthday. It only cost me my voice and probably a slight extension of my illness, maybe some self respect. But birthdays are special. It is the one special day to appreciate being alive and our place in the world-and have all your loved ones do the same. Make a wish, have a drink, share a laugh, and ring the bell.

Illin' in SF

2005-04-19T16:14:00.000-07:00

My immune system is for shit. This is at least the 3x I've been sick in 6 months. I felt it coming on all last week, convincing myself it was allergies. Until..Sunday, the sore throat appeared. I still thought I could beat it. I drank airborne, water, tea. I took vitamins, aspirin-you name it. I even stayed home, slept for like 12 hours and barely moved all day. I thought I had it licked. Then...this morning...it had progressed to the full sore throat, annoying nasal drip and earache. I know I can still can keep it at bay. I know I can!

All my friends have been ill. Many with fevers, pink eye, stomach flu-the worst of it. Deep in my subconscious, I guess knew I'd get it. Could that be what did me in? How the germs slipped by? You can have a massive wall of protection-or in this case-denial. But the smallest crack in the right spot can take it all down. The virus knew it was a bluff and called me out.

SIGH. Now I'm in my own hell. Stuck in my apt on a beautiful day. Nothing to do. No way to shut off my brain. I've never been a yoga fan. Meditation never my thing. I guess I'll keep hounding my friends at work though email.

Please don't fornicate with the amulet

2005-04-02T12:02:00.000-08:00

This was projected across the screen at scenster central as everyone pulsed to the latest indierock tune. After "hell week" at work and a friend projecting some pretty hurtful shit onto me, I needed a break and decided to hit a club. The band was a bit of a nightmare as they screamed their latest hit "Bikini Bottom." Umm, yeah. And I love how the 80's are trying to make a come back. The film crew at my work was doing a NYE scene from the 80's in NY, and people were pimping the look, similar to those at the club last night. But, it's only the supposed cool scene from the 80's. Cola, sexy mesh tops, risque minis and leg warmers-I'm not seeing a lot of line-backer shoulder pads and purple frost lipstick. People watching is insightful when you are hurting and pissed. It helps with self-reflection. I know for sure I am starting to feel the generation gap, but I thank the newbies anyway.

End of days

2005-03-07T12:16:00.000-08:00

So, I've been avoiding writing this one for a few days. This birthday was tough, although not as bad as 25. Holy shit...this is the final year of my twenties! I was waiting for my hair to go white like that scene in Evil Dead II where Ash sees the ultimate evil in physical form. I guess a bigger fear is that I will start to look like that ultimate evil thing as I start to age. So far, my youthful genes have held-up, but that comes with its own set of problems (see The pros and cons of "youth" blog).

I've fully embraced being a spoiled brat on my birthday. If life has to get sucky as you age, well then I'm entitled to a little demanding, selfish, and/or self entitling behavior damn it! I actually think I deserve to act this way for the rest of the year before entering into "real adulthood." I guess it's my last year before society makes me start wanting babies and a husband? (My friends know me better). Not to go on a tangent (what else is a blog good for?), but I've been getting that one for years. The fact that my overall goal in life has never been to embrace the lifetime rules of unnatural monogamy, breed and exchange religious/legal vows enforced by a society that...um, well...but I digress.

Life is amazing. I'm enjoying the ride so far and inspired to experience the future. Happy birthday to me!

Souless in Miami

2005-02-17T12:38:00.000-08:00

You may leave your heart in San Francisco, but your soul in Miami? Yep. I feel like a piece of me died over the weekend..well, ok it wasn't that bad.

Miami is like being in a foreign country in many ways. Culturally, it is really interesting. Socially, it is really not. I used to think LA was bad regarding appearance obsession. Before my trip to Miami, I made jokes that I didn't have the right color tube dress to wear to a formal occasion, or the standard "uniform" of strappy high heels, tight-ass jeans, and a halter top that shows ample cleavage-but alas, when I got there-I found it was no joke. The one thing I did appreciate was the store mannequins. They all had ample asses and thighs. And, the women, no matter what size, all sported like outfits. I think as a man, I would suffer from over-visual stimulation. After a while, I wouldn't know what to look at, and unless you have a fat-money clip, the look but don't touch rule applies. And the men. Well, I guess some women go for the beefy, tan, with open silky shirts and gold chain type-or as I call them, the "Larrys."

Miami definitely left an impression on me (in the form of a massive black bruise on my back as I fell on a hunk of metal in the ladies room and drunkenly hugged the porcelain throne for a few hours). Everytime I got kneed in the back on the 5 hour plane-ride home, I was reminded of sweet Miami. Maybe the fates wanted me to remember the trip as a valuable experience? Could be, but more likely it was punishment for one-too many satanic jokes in the Catholic church. Touché!

And now for something completely different...

2005-02-08T17:31:00.000-08:00

I have lost a lot of people in my life over the years. Four to HIV. Some to cancer. Others to the various ways nature weeds down the populous. It hurts when friends loose a special person in their life. Someone once gave me a poem by an anonymous poet (or at least they didn't know who wrote it) that gave me perspective on death as a "transition".

Do not stand by my grave and weep.
I am not there.
I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am a diamond glint of snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awake in the morning, hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starshine at night.

Do not stand by my grave and cry.
I am not there.
I did not die.

Mars/Venus, Yin/Yang, Tomato/Tomato

2005-02-07T13:42:00.000-08:00

I never really bought into the whole "men and women think completely different" thing. My best friend is a guy, I have lot's of guy friends. I pretty much thought I knew how they think, and in turn could relate. Of course, that's a generalization. Every individual is different. I've been coming to realize lately, that I have no idea what the hell men believe. Women are much more "relational." We ask questions. Lots and lots of questions. Probably to the point of annoyance. We also over analyze things (although this one can carry over to the male populous, depending on the individual). I know for a fact that I am overly logical, compared to my "feeling" sisters. I spend 15 minutes with someone, and I know where they work, what they do, hobbies, kin, where they live, etc. In turn, they probably know way more about me than they wanted to. I'm a strong believer in communication. I just don't see it with guys. Getting info from them can be like pulling teeth.

Miscommunication is way too rampant these days. I'm also always luring myself into a false sense of "okayness." If I do get into it with someone, and all seems to be resolved, I often replay the scenario in my head, and realize that I'm really not ok. "I should've said this!" "But that doesn't make sense!" It's exhausting! And, one thing I do know about guys is that they don't want to drag junk out any further than necessary if they don't have to. Right? I also believe the whole notion of guys being unemotional is bullshit. The difference is how we all deal at the time.

Of course, this particular post probably makes absolutely no sense to anyone. I mean, what do I know about how men and women think? I can't even figure out what the hell I am trying to convey in this damn post.

The pros and cons of "youth"

2005-01-21T13:18:00.000-08:00

You would think that looking young is a big ol' plus. As I start to clock 30, I feel a nice twinge of satisfaction whenever I get carded (which is just about always), or get called "Miss" (I did actually get called Ma'am once. The namesayer now rots in hell). Yes, I dress "young" most of the time, but even if I sport the business suit and lame sweater set with khakis (ok I never where those), people still view me as fairly young. In the business and dating world, however, this can be a disadvantage. I have to fight damn hard to earn respect from the good ol' boys I work with and am currnently faced with trying to advance my position to overloard of our organization, but because I look "young," I may get passed up. At a recent event, when told my title, an old lady said "but you look like a little girl!" Uhh, gee-thanks I guess...What do you say to that? How about "I may look young, but I feel about as old as you" (read With age comes Pain blog). Also, on the dating front, most guys who hit on me can barley shave. I was on a real streak there for a while with the 20 year-olds. There nothing hotter than a guy saying "wow, you're like real smart and shit." Ohh baby...

Once again, American society has screwed us with a double standard. Everything is youth, money, and respect. But they don't always go hand-in-hand.

Lyrics and junk

2005-01-11T14:44:00.000-08:00

I had a previous post about getting old. They say you start to lose your hearing when you age. I have this thing where I swear I know the lyrics of a song, a catch phrase, old saying or slang-but I soooo get it wrong! I idiotically will sing along passionately to a popular song, when a friend finally brings it to my attention that I have the most of the lyrics wrong. Not that my version doesn't work, but it it's quite a bit lamer than the original version. I mean-"crunked up"? "crumped up"? They sound a lot alike, no? It's actually quite embarrassing. It's like your parent trying to say jiggy or something (although everyone should be embarrassed using that term). I mean, I can't even spell check this shit. I just hope people find it mildly amusing, somewhat endearing. And in exchange, I'll try not to make too much of an ass of myself. God forbid I wind up on an episode of Motormouth.

2005-01-06T16:40:00.000-08:00