All day yesterday I had a bad song going through my head. It was a super-cheesy 70’s tune, one of those one hit wonder type songs with a “the sun will come out tomorrow”, “don’t stop believing,” up with people type themes to it. Imagine my suprise as I walked into Walgreens to buy a new umbrella and heard the very same song being blasted over the loudspeaker.

And so I thought, is this some sort of cosmic message? Is it a sign? A message? A portent? Are The Powers that Be/The Elders/the Big Kahuna or whomever is out there letting me know that after what was a pretty bleak day, “ooh child, things are gonna get easier?” Should I take this as a sign that 2004 will be my Summer of George? Or is it all some big, huge, random coincidence telling me nothing more than I need to get better songs going through my head?

I guess starting tonight I’ll find out.

Once again, for all the Ladies in the House, I present the Hooray for Anything Guide to Things Not to Do on a Date

-Sniff armpits and discuss how you’ve recently decided not to put on underarm deodorant because you’ve heard underarm deodorant causes Alzheimer’s

-Mention that you haven’t shaved your legs in three months but that you did shave your face this morning for the first time in a week

-Belch excessively with Homer-like gusto*

-Make fun of people sitting at table next to you, which may have been funny and the people deserving, but it’s not necessarily a good thing to do when they’re less than three feet away and can hear half of what was said.

-Be bitchy to girl putting quarters on pool table to reserve table for next game.

-Get into argument with cab driver on ride home**

* Date realizes that everyone burps occasionally, even the Queen Mum, and that it shows maybe perhaps too bit of daintiness on part of Date. Date, however, wonders if burping that loudly and frequently is more of a relationship type thing and not a 2nd date type thing. He would also like to add that if he wanted to date someone with hairy legs, stubble, B.O., and a fondness for burping, he’d date men. Which he does not.

** Date also realizes that not having one’s back while they argue with cab driver breaks some sort of chivalrous code which could explain why earlier discussion of taking dogs out for a day was never followed up on. He apologizes. Date would like to say, however, that it was late, he was tired, and he still had to take said dog out for a walk and thus not thrilled with prospect of having to walk home after Cab driver kicks him out (Date has had it happen to him). He would also like add that while occasionally pretty chivalrous, thinks drunken belligerence with cab drivers is gauche. Especially when for the life of him he can’t remember what it was over other than bad attitude on part of both parts.

I was taking the dog out for a walk and saw a car driving past us with one of those “Free Tibet” bumper stickers on it from way back in the day. How’s that thing going? Did the Beastie Boys free Tibet yet?

I was taking the dog out for a walk and saw a car driving past us with one of those “Free Tibet” bumper stickers on it from way back in the day. How’s that thing going? Did the Beastie Boys free Tibet yet?

Today in the Chron there’s, a whole bunch of New Years type horoscopes. While not the biggest of astrological believer, it’s still pretty interesting to see what kind of year I can look forward to. All I can is that 2004 is looking like an exciting year.

According to this Horoscope, this year will be “Green”. I'm so excited. I will also see last year's (meaning this year's) “hard earned gains be solidified.” Unfortunately, I’m not exactly sure what that means because the only thing I’ve gained this year is huge credit card debt. Not sure I want to see that solidified. This year also “promises luck with both family and real estate.” Woo to the hoo.

And then there’s this horoscope, which is almost scarily precise. Among other things, March 20 will be the day that “Mars, Mr. Aggressive, charges headlong into your sign. You better believe the earth will move for you. This very special spring equinox finds you kicking tail and taking names.” Watch out world!

On my birthday, June 17th, I am told that not only will it be my birthday, but I will “make a financial decision that will affect the next two years.” No mention of what this means for those of us who have no finances to make a decision about. But wait, there’s more. And on Nov. 26th I should “Enjoy -- hopefully! -- a pleasant preview …. when the full moon beams directly on you.” How exciting! I wonder, however, that while I have three big days to look forward to, even one when the full moon beams directly on me, what about the other 362 days of the year? Will something happen on those days too? Should I even bother to get out of bed next year? Oh wait, it also looks like it’ll be the year that I’ll "get lucky in real estate. (Even if it's "just" a larger apartment.)” While exciting, I’d much prefer, oh a job. It is a little hard to be excited about getting lucky in real estate when right now I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to pay the rent at the end of the month.

And finally, there is my Party Horoscope, which, as we all know, is the most important Horoscope there is. Turns out that this is the year I should hang out a lot at the Grand Café (wherever that is.) Why? Because, as my Horoscope tells me, it’s the kind of place that’s full of “ghosts of every lover you've ever had or wished you'd had" Quelle fun. I know there’s nothing more exciting than being haunted by exes and blown chances. To think, I usually ask the doctor for pills whenever that happens. I can also expect to find there "a bevy of other beautiful people, the kind you pray you'll be seated beside at doubtful dinner parties.” So by going there, besides being haunted by Ghosts of Failures Past, I get to hang out with Beautiful People too. When can I start hanging out there?

If that doesn’t sell me yet, I should know that “Grand Cafe bartenders have a knack for turning juniper berries into pure silk.” Which is great, but what do they have on tap? And what sort of Astrological Significance does going to Dr. Bombay’s have?

Yes, I can now say I’ve seen “Queer Eye for a Straight Guy” and yes, I realize that this puts the normally on-it me way behind the Pop Culture 8 ball on this one. It’s kind of fun, but I have to wonder while watching it if the Producers told “the Fab Five” before they went on to ixnay the isplay. And if they could please not refer to each either as “sweety” or “honey” during the show. Because damn if those five gay males don’t sound straight. Other than the blonde guy (I think his name is Carson) you wouldn’t be able to tell that they were gay if it weren’t for they fact they were all well dressed.

Because, you know, gay guys are great on TV if they’re funny and snarky, but not if they actually sound gay. Or, for heaven’s sake, do anything to make anyone actually think they have gay sex.

Went to an MC Battle last night, straight out of “8 Mile.” It was a lot of fun. First off, the music was totally cool- old skool hip hop and R&B tunes that hadn’t been killed by excessive playing in Yuppie bars. And then there were the contestants. Man, they were good. Not that I’m an expert in any of this, but you gotta give your props to someone who busts out a rhyme like “rockin’ your clothes from Abercrombie & Fitch” or “that haircut makes you look like Dewey on ‘Malcolm and the Middle’” out of thin air. At one point, one of the contestants hit it so well his first time up that his opponent just gave up and wouldn’t do his second rhyme. Another contest was deemed a tie and so the guy who was running it made both contestants do some sort of rap show-down where they’d have four beats each and go at it until the DJ stopped it.

But then the voice came. That “You’re 35 voice.” The voice that tells me that even though I’ve been spending most of the previous week cranking 50 Cent’s CD, utterly convinced that “In Da Club” maybe one of the greatest songs ever recorded, then hitting a hip-hop club full of 24 year old fly girls with flashes of bling and their 24 year old Beany wearing B Boy boyfriends, I shouldn’t be. Because I’m 35. And not only that, I’m 35 years old and white. Jesus, the jacket I wore to the thing was an Old Navy jacket. Does it get anymore Caucasian? I’m too old for this. I’m too old and too white to even pretend I know what’s going on or dance to any of this. I should be dressing nicely and going to nice restaurants and snotty hip bars that serve martinis and wine. I should be spending my nights not going to clubs but seeing cultural events. Listening to Coldplay, not 50 Cent.

What in the hell was I doing there and how in the hell has my life gotten to the point where I’m clubbin’ with kids ten years younger than me?

Eh, whatever.

Go, go, go, go
Go, go, go shorty
It's your birthday
We gon' party like it's yo birthday
We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday
And you know we don't give a fuck
It's not your birthday!

Let's see, you're a HR person whose reponsible for finding a position in your West Coast office and you work in the East Coast office. Naturally, it would make sense to call that person on December 23rd at 4:30 East Coast time and leave a message about a phone interview. Because most people are home on December 23rd. It would also make a lot of sense to call people about a job the day before you take the rest of the week off for Christmas. But wait, here's an even smarter way to go about conducting a job search. How about not only calling people to set up a job interview right before Christmas then taking the rest of the week off, but also when your baby is due any second now and the moment the baby comes out, you're on Maternity Leave for a couple of months.

Let's take a look at today's headlines, shall we?

Pakistan Leader Survives Another Assassination Attempt

At Least Three Killed in Suicide Bombing Near Tel Aviv

Fearing Attacks, Officials Tighten Airport Security

4 G.I.'s and 6 Iraqi Civilians Are Killed in Bomb Attacks

Merry fucking Christmas everyone....

From the Sports Guy column in this morning's Page 2 on ESPN.com:

"Does anyone else think Brian Austin Green watches Justin Timberlake's career unfolding and says to himself "Wait a second, what did I do wrong?"

It's good to see that other people have caught onto the Justin Timberlake being this generation's Brian Austin Green, but remember, you read it here on Hooray For Anything first.

Poor, poor Alex Rodriguez, stuck in Texas for $25 mil a year. Who woulda thunk that signing that contract was such a dumb idea? It's not like the Rangers have always kind of sucked and that Dallas is not a baseball city. And who would have figured that if you pay one player that much money it's going to be that much harder putting people around him to play.

Hope you're happy spending the rest of your seven years of that contract stuck in one of baseball's Nowhere Land. You deserve what you get, A-Rod. Suck on it, baby.

And way to go Red Sox. You guys were seven outs away from getting to the Series, seven outs you should have gotten if it weren't for the fact that Grady Little was maybe the only person on the face of the planet who didn't realize Pedro should be taken out. So what do you do? You get Schilling and Foulke- good moves, but then you screw it all up by some pie-in-the-sky, doesn't-make-that-much-sense-signings that'll gut the heart and soul of the team if it went through, piss off a whole lot of people if it didn't go through. It's like some guy whose got a perfectly good relationship with a nice, reasonably attractive gal only to dump her for a few weeks so he could pursue some super-hot woman who would only break his heart no matter what.

If you guys don't win the next couple of years, you got nobody to blame but yourselves. Sometimes curses are real, sometimes they're caused by stupidity.

On the other hand, at least your trying. Right now it's looking like a long summer in Pac Bell Park (or whatever the hell it's gonna get called next year).

You know, the Mayoral Election was about two to three weeks ago, don't you think it's time for some of you Gonzalez supporters to take down your "Gonzalez for Mayor" banners/buttons/bumper stickers? It's kind of like all those people out there who have their Christmas stuff up way past New Year's.

Yeah, I know voting for Matty makes you way cool and rocking the "Gonzalez for Mayor" stuff is a way of letting everyone know just how cool you are- just like wearing t-shirts of obscure rock bands, vintage 70's trucker mesh hats or Che Guerrera posters make you cool- but the election is over. O-ver.

I’ve had the dog now for just about four days and after walking her three times a day, I’m really curious to find out just what combination of odors, smells, and aromas makes the dog go “aha! this is this spot I must pee in!” As opposed to, say, another spot more than a few inches away. It’s kind of the same thing as when they go sniffing around the streets and out of the myriads of smells they sniff, some just get a shrug of their doggy shoulder and others make them go "I must follow this smell no matter where it takes me...."

There's comedy, there's high comedy, and then there's this: I just got an e-mail from a recruiter saying he found my resume online and wanted to know if I'd be interested in a position for a company he does recruiting for. That company? My ex-company. Nice job looking through the entire resume.

I'd love to see their faces when he tells them "hey, I found this great resume online" and hands it to my boss. Or, in light of the fact I think my ex-boss got fired, her boss. The whole thing is kind of like a friend of a friend trying to set you up on a date and the person they have in mind is your psycho ex-girlfriend.

Hey, maybe I can get my old job back?

So that blackout, the one that wiped out most of San Francisco but hadn't yet affected me? Got me. About fifteen minutes into "Finding Nemo," the very-same DVD I had just walked all the way back to my hood to rent because Blockbuster was down. Luckily, the place I'm staying at is loaded with candles so I just did what our forefather's did oh so long ago- light up tons of candles, read for an hour or two in the dark, and go to bed really, really early.

Woo hoo.

You know, I'm pretty sure the only reason why the blackout occured was because it was my first night house-sitting. Kind of like the only reason why the HR Manager of my fallback, sure-thing job quit last week was because it was my fallback, sure-thing job. Not that I was the reason, but, well, you get my gist.

For the next couple of weeks, I'm house/dog sitting for a friend's girlfriend. Two weeks in a phat pad with a big screen TV, DVD player, fully stocked liquor cabinet, barca lounger sofa (!), hot tub and an eight-year old 100% mutt named Cecille. I'm big pimpin' it like it's my birthday.

Naturally, on my first day it rains. Which meant twice having to take the dog for a walk in the rain. Not to mention it being entirely too wet outside for any Hot Tubbing. And there's a power-outage in the hood and while the place I'm staying at has electricity (thank God), cable's down and the Blockbuster down the block is closed. Which meant in order to be able to watch something on the big screen TV, I had to go back to my 'hood just to rent a DVD. In the rain.

Yay me.

Here's another sign it's time to get a job- I'm getting really into "Charmed." Yeah, I know, it's a pretty craptacular show but with "Buffy" over and in the sixth or seventh run of repeats on F/X, where else am I going to go for my supernatural butt-kicking hot chicks? Even if one of those hot chicks happen to be post-Brenda Shannon Doherty (Holly Marie Combs on the other hand….).

One of the charming things about "Charmed" is that supposedly it takes place in San Francisco. This they let everyone know this by constantly showing the same two or three fly-over shots of the city at the beginning and end of every episode. While they do occasionally name check a location in the city- like Golden Gate Park or the Haight- "Charmed" has the same problems that most shows that supposedly take place in San Francisco has. Namely, for a show that's supposed to take place in the City by the Bay, there's no fog. In fact, every character runs around in midriff baring baby t's and the occasional trendy, WB sanctioned jackets as if the weather here is always sunny and warm and just exactly like Los Angeles. I mean, if you're going to pretend to be in San Francisco, can you at least go through the motions of pretending that it's usually occasionally cold, windy, and foggy as hell? Or are we supposed to believe that every exciting thing that happens in San Francisco happens on those ten or twenty days when the weather is actually nice?

Won't even get into the lack of homeless people, freaks, or anything remotely looking like San Francisco.

Hey Britney, you say you wanna lose control?

I guess Chris Matthews on "Hardball" said something along the lines that the photos of Saddam when he was captured made him look like a San Francisco homeless person. This, of course, was met by outrage by someone in this area because, naturally, it's wrong to say anything wrong about the Homeless. Even if he did look like several people I used to walk past on the Haight every day.

Actually, if Saddam were smart he should have taken that 750,000 bucks he had and gotten a ticket out here to be a homeless person. Better to be living in a shopping cart on 16th & Mission than a spider-hole in Iraq if you ask me. Plus, we'd never capture him here. Besides the obvious fact that it's not exactly where we're looking, we'd never arrest him because we never arrest homeless people. It's "wrong" to arrest homeless people. If he did get captured, the Homeless Activists would protest saying it's against his rights. Besides, he wouldn't be homeless if it weren't for the fact we kicked him out of his home and how can we arrest someone for being homeless unless we address all the root causes?

By the way, now that Saddam is going to get tried, do we constantly have to say "alleged" whenever we refer to him. As in "alleged genocidal tyrant?" Or "alleged mass-murderer?" Or say things like "allegedly had WMD?"

Oh wait, he never had him. Nevermind.

Hey Britney, you say you wanna lose control?


I guess Chris Matthews on "Hardball" said something along the lines that the photos of Saddam when he was captured made him look like a San Francisco homeless person. This, of course, was met by outrage by someone in this area because, naturally, it's wrong to say anything wrong about the Homeless. Even if he did look like several people I used to walk past on the Haight every day.

Actually, if Saddam were smart he should have taken that 750,000 bucks he had and gotten a ticket out here to be a homeless person. Better to be living in a shopping cart on 16th & Mission than a spider-hole in Iraq if you ask me. Plus, we'd never capture him here. Besides the obvious fact that it's not exactly where we're looking, if he did get captured, the Homeless Activists would protest saying it's against his rights to arrest him. Not to mention the fact that it's immoral criminalize the homeless. Besides, he wouldn't be homeless if it weren't for the fact we kicked him out of his home?

By the way, now that Saddam is going to get tried, do we constantly have to say "alleged" whenever we refer to him. As in "alleged genocidal tyrant?" Or "alleged mass-murderer?" Or say things like "allegedly had WMD?"

Oh wait, he doesn't have them. Nevermind.

I thought twenty minute dates was bad enough, but a ten minute job interview? I go in there, get quickly shown what I have to do, get asked all these questions that have nothing to do with the jb, like where I live and how I'm spending Christmas, only to find out later that afternoon somehow I didn't get the job. Which would be fine, I guess, if it was a real job, but we're talking about a stupid fucking data-entry temp job here. Albeit a four month, not bad paying, totally cushy Temp job, but still a data entry temp job.

Somehow, in that ten minutes they somehow decided I wasn't right. How does one decide in ten minutes that one isn't right for a stupid fucking data entry temp job? Especially since I can type 75 WPM and can do ten key in my sleep (which was brought up in the interview- the 75 WPM not the in my sleep part). How did I not get it? What the fuck did I do wrong in my ten minute interview, hardly any of which actually consisted of talking about the job? I wish I could dissect it and figure out what I did wrong, but it's kind of hard to do when it only LASTED FOR TEN MINUTES. I even wore my brand new, kick-ass suit. I even gave the "I would be really good at this job because I've been doing data entry since college" speech at the end. But to no avail.

Could it get more humiliating?

It's been a long, long day, but I saw it.

I'll post more later, but let's just say I've never heard a huge, sold-out audience gasp in awe before. I've also never heard an audience both gasp and cheer at the same time. And I don't think I've ever seen a movie that made me keep on saying "Jesus Christ" over and over again because I couldn't believe what I'm seeing on screen.

Now what am I going to do with my life?

It being Christmastime, companies such as my old company are busy ho-ho-ho'ing it up and advertising their wares all over the place. I don't know whether it's because they just got a sudden infusion of cash or whether they're just turning up the volume, but in the past several weeks, I've seen ads for my old companies products everywhere. Everything from MTV to "South Park" to NFL Games to even my beloved "Buffy" reruns. I've even seen ads for my old company's products online, on places like Salon and Rottentomatoes.com. Hell, one of my company's products sponsored the showing of the "South Park" movie uncut on Comedy Central. And not just my companies' products, but things I was working on. Things I was helping put together before I was unceremoniously given the heave-ho. In fact, as one of the guys helping out with the video department, most of those commercials would have at some point gone through me.

Ironically, one of the reasons why I was so excited to work there was because I was working for a company that advertises things. That gets deals with Peter Gabriel and sponsors uncut versions of "South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut" and has meetings in which they decide "Buffy" fans would make a perfect target audience. Now everytime I see one of those commercials I get a sick feeling in my stomach, that kind of sick feeling you can only get when your supposed dream jobs turns out to be your nightmare.

Luv ya Jenna.

Only Six hours, thirty-two minutes and twelve seconds til I see "…the greatest long-form work in the history of mainstream cinema."

I'm so excited I'm already suffering from "what the hell am I going to do with my life now?" pangs and I haven't even seen the movie yet.

I wasn't watching, but is this true?

From Howard Kurtz's always excellent Media Notes in the Washington Post:

"As I type, Howard Dean is giving his foreign policy speech, carried live on the cable networks. "My position on the war in Iraq has not changed," he declared, adding: "The capture of Saddam has not made America safer."

Fox News just shrunk the ex-governor to a small box and put that picture of Saddam opening wide for the tongue depressor in a big box.

I wonder how long it will be before Fox starts showing Democratic Presidential candidates in the small box and show Fox commentators making faces behind them?

And while I'm not buying at all some of the uber-lefty conspiracy thinkers out there who are saying that Bush had Saddam trapped for awhile and just decided to get him now while there's all these bad stories about Halliburton out there is a crock, I am a little skeptical about the "report" that a soldier said "President Bush sends his greetings" upon seeing Saddam in the spider-hole.

By the way, 27 hours, 22 minutes and 10 seconds until I see a movie called "one of the greatest achievements in film history"

No posting for the night due to an incessant case of the blahs.

Blah blah blahbidy blah.....

Blah.

God damnit, why won't somebody e-mail me? I haven't gotten an e-mail since this morning and I'm bored. I haven't even gotten spam-mail in hours.

Is there anybody out there?

So yeah, we got the Big Man himself, Saddam, this morning. Pretty crazy to turn on the TV in the morning and see a picture of what looks like some crazy homeless guy getting a check-up only to discover that the crazy homeless guy is Satan's butt-buddy.

I also noticed that as part of the news on the story, it's no longer enough to get the reaction of the President when he hears word, we now have to hear what Mrs. President thought of the news. "Great," was what the White House lackey told the lap-dog press about what the First Lady said. I wonder if they told the First Twins about what happened. Wouldn't it come up in some sort of normal conversation? You know, like Jenna's calling in Saturday afternoon to see how everything is and hearing, "oh well, your father has been a little upset lately what with Rodriguez possibly being traded by the Rangers and Ashton Kutcher pulling the plug on "Punk'd", but he's been a lot happier today once Rummy told him that we might have gotten Hussein. Uhhh….oh yeah, sweetie, that's a little secret so please don't tell anyone." Then again, I'm guessing the Twins aren't really told much of anything, which is probably a good thing considering how many state secrets could have been divulged after the fifth or sixth tequilla slammer at some Frat Party.

And yes, it is a really great thing we got the guy. In the long-term sense of it, whatever one thinks of the war, he was a ripe awful bastard. He was evil in the true sense of word. It's a great thing for the Iraqi people, a great accomplishment for our soldiers (who are doing a hell of a job over there, especially when you read about all the crap they have to put up due to the White House's screw ups) and it is a good day for the country. Still, as much of a great thing it is, I really hate it when all those smirking Popinjays on Fox News and the arrogant bastards of the White House having something to smirk and be arrogant about.

You know, I think I'm allergic to "It's a Wonderful Life." Somewhere around the scene where all the townspeople come running into the Bailey house to give him money, I start getting the sniffles.

Maybe I should start taking some allergy medicine next time I watch it.

Yes, I know I have often been accused of being a Christmas Grinch, what with my lack of Holiday Spirit and occasional glee at watching other people drive themselves crazy this time of year, but there are some things that make me say, gosh darnit, I like this time of year:

Two words- Snoopy Dance

I was blessed this year to be asked by The Bay Guardian to write a column for their annual "Year in Music" section but I got dropped at the last minute. I guess they needed another page or two for some story linking Gavin Newsom to some Wall Street brokers, the Republican Party, several Masonic Lodges, and the Priori of Scion.

So, anyways, since it didn't get published, I thought I'd publish it myself. I bring you the "Year in Music" column that got dropped.

Ahhh, Buffy Season Three, how I love you so…..

There's a place I interviewed with months ago, right when my recent bout of unemployment began. It was the place in which the person I interviewed with told me that many people who worked there couldn't take it because things were too slow and too mellow. Which, of course, sounds like heaven.

Anyways, a week after my first interview I didn't hear back from them and called them to see what was up, thinking the whole time that, of course, I'd never reach them. I did. They even told me I was first in the running but they still had a few people to talk to.

A week later I still hadn't heard anything back so I called them again. This time I couldn't reach anyone and left a message, thinking the whole time that I'd never actually hear back from them. A couple of days later, someone actually called me back to let me know that the job had been shelved and they won't be ready to hire anyone til December.

So, now it's December and today I called them again. I couldn't reach anyone, so I left a message, once again expecting the whole time that I'd never hear back from them. And once again, a few days later they called back. They're not hiring until January, but they told me to check in with them again in January.

What's up with that? I mean, they actually called me back- twice. Don't the people in HR know that they're not supposed to call me back? I mean, if they call me back they're setting a bad precedent. They're going to make other people expect to be called back by HR departments and we all know that can't happen. Isn't there some big HR Organization that monitors these things? Somebody's gotta stop this.

Next thing you know, dogs and cats will be living together.

Further sign that the world has lost it's bearings- I'm perusing Salon today and I see this as a headline in their "From the Wires" Section: Hall and Oates deemed 'heroes' of music.

They, along with Rueben Blades and Nile Rodgers (of Chic) were deemed as much by their Recording Academy for being, quote: "outstanding individuals whose creative talents and accomplishments cross all musical boundaries and who are integral to the vitality of the music community."

Now granted Hall & Oates have aged a bit better than some of their contemporaries and songs like "Sara Smiles" are underrated little gems, but have we forgotten about "Maneater?" Whose next as as a "hero of music"? Bryan Adams? Rick Springfield? Asia?

Because I've been seeing a lot of family and old friends lately, I've been hearing a lot of this lately- "oh my God, you look great!" Sometimes I even get the "did you loose weight?" add on. While flattering, I usually wonder whether it's true and if I do indeed look fabulous or whether it's just something you say when you haven't seen someone in awhile. Like how people say "gezundheit" or "that sounds great, we'll give you a call in a couple of days to set up another interview." I guess it's all possible, but considering I've spent the better part of the last five months sitting on my ass at home surfing the Web and watching TV while munching on cheese and crackers, I don't really see how I could be looking that good (and speaking of which, I was all bummed when it turns out that I just missed the infamous episode where Dylan finally chooses Kelly and they both confront Brenda at that park somewhere in LA- absolutely brilliant stuff- but did turn in to catch the other infamous episode where Dylan's dad is blown up in the car, complete with Dylan screaming "Jack!!!!!!" while collapsing on the ground. That was followed by the dueling Luke Perry episode where Dylan confronts himself and the inner crying 13 year old Dylan. Good times). Maybe I'm a bit more relaxed looking than I have been (unemployment and denial will do that), but certainly not "have you lost weight?" worthy.

I guess I wouldn't be so out of sorts by it if it weren't for another friend of a friend who has recently discovered the Meaning Of Life through becoming a Bikram instructor. At some party over the weekend, she started telling me that she'll try and get me free passes to her yoga place. When I asked why she was willing to try and get me free passes and why I had to commit to going two to three times a week, I was told that I was "the type of guy who doing Bikram Yoga could do wonders for." When I pried to find out just what the hell she meant, I realized that she was getting at that I'd be type of guy who in three to four months could be placed on one of those "Before" and "After" ads to show the benefits of doing yoga. You know, after I had lost most of my beer belly and worry wrinkles and my nervous little eye twitchy thing I've recently reaquired lately due to this bout of unemployment.

This is only a story. It, in no way, happened to your humble narrator…

This guy goes to a party Saturday night. Within minutes he's getting chatted up by some woman. They had met previously once before and there was definite sparkage, but this time, there was fireworks-level sparkage. And the girl is into it. She's glomming onto him. She's getting him drinks and following him around. In fact, she's working it so much that he's feeling a little guilty that he hasn't spent any time talking to the friends he came to see and who he hasn't talked to in several weeks. So he steals away for bits at a time, hanging out with friends who he really wants to see and talk to, allthewhile thinking "oh boy!" Occasionally, he goes back to the woman to get glommed onto some more- a feat which isn't that difficult to do since she occasionally hops into his conversation minutes later and joins in.

Then, somehow, late into a night that's going to get much later, the guy goes to the bathroom or starts talking to a friend and notices that his shadow is gone. She's not only not following him, she's now ignoring him. And when he goes talk to her, she engages in conversation back, looking elsewhere the whole and does the "excuse me, I have to get a drink" or "excuse me, I have to go talk to…." and bails on him. Towards the end of the night, she's glommed onto some other guy.

The guy is a little confused, wondering how somehow he managed to screw it up. Was it a joke he made? A pop-cultural reference that made her think he was a dolt? Did he forget to wash his hands? In other words, he wanted to know what the what was. And while he wasn't terribly bummed about the whole thing, he did have to admit to being peeved only because he was now unwittingly a rejectee when he didn't even put himself into a position into being a rejectee.

There is, after all, a difference between being rejected after trying for it and being rejected after it's just thrown into your lap.

The SciFi channel is airing a redone, revised version of that classic 70's TV show, "Battlestar Gallactica," only one of my fave TV shows as a kid. Great, right?

Well, whoever is in charge of the whole thing, and I'm guessing it was someone who had something to do with the original, decided that the point of the new show was to make better what they thought was lacking from the original. That means better special effects, seriously earnest acting, subtexts, sleeker looking Cylons and spaceships, and identical looking hunky guys. Say goodbye to the same two shots being used to show ships being blown up, feathered haircuts, bad acting, super-cheesy Cylon warriors and ships, and dumb plots. In other words, it's "Battlestar Gallactica" without any of the fun. Okay, getting rid of Muffit the Dog was probably a good thing, but no Starbuck? Hello?

Dude, those old Cylons with their Robo voices rocked

I got some spam-mail today offering me photos of my "ex-wife." I'll say this once and I'll say this again- if you're gonna spam me, you might at least put a little effort into sending me something that at least applies to me.

I give them points for being original, though. Made me look.

I was gonna kvetch about something or other, but today I actually had a really good Customer Service experience (an ISP that was billing for me no particular reason is actually giving me a full refund); the SF Mayoral election will be over tomorrow so I can once again look forward to opening my mailbox without having to worry about being hit by all the mailer's exploding out of it; and the whole BCS mess is one more step towards the implosion of "college" sports.

And then there's this review of Return of the King, which, as we all know, will be The Single Greatest Movie Ever Made. Ever.

"… The second half of the film elevates all the story elements to Beethovenian crescendo. Here is an epic with literature's depth and opera's splendor — and one that could be achieved only in movies. What could be more terrific?

Only nine days left till I see it (21 hours, 30 minutes, and fifteen seconds, actually) but whose counting?

Me (to recruiter, the kind whose supposed to be getting me a job): I'm just calling to say I'm still available and checking in to see if there's anything out there
Recruiter: Thanks for calling, but so far, still nothing.
Me: What about that (blank) job on your Web site?
Recruiter: Oh, that's just a general posting because we've been getting a lot of calls for jobs like that and we need more candidates to fill them.
Me: (wondering if why they keep on getting calls like that I haven't been called on any of them). No, I'm talking about another job posting.
Recruiter: Hmmm…oh yeah. Hold on a sec. Oh yeah, that job hasn't been filled yet and it's still open. How about that?
Me: (said internally) Brilliant. And you guys make money by how exactly?

About today's job interview….

I love it when both the job description that's posted and the description detailed to you by the HR person turns out to be almost the complete opposite of what the job actually is. Something that I don't discover until my 2nd hour into the interview when after rockin' the HR person's world, I meet the person who would be/could be my boss. All those computer programs I bragged about knowing? Don't need 'em. All those great examples I used to show my project management skills and abilities? Turns out there's no coordinating involved. In fact, the job is built so that you actually never leave the computer and don't talk to anyone. Oh yeah, that great ending speech about how you'd like to branch out and help the Manager grow the position and help the company expand? Nuh-uh, ain't happening. There'll be none of that happening in this job. It's just crunch code, crunch code, crunch code. Oh yeah, and by the way, the job isn't full-time, it's temp-to-perm.

Unfortunately, I'm already out way too far to turn around and start backtracking on what I said earlier. And besides, it's been a long interview, the caffeine is wearing off, and I really, really have to pee. Oh, and what initially sounded like a great job, a job so great that when presented the possibility of two openings with the company you hop on that position, turns into something my frazzled little brain is telling me sounds God-awful. In other words, it's it's too late baby, now, it's too late.

But man, oh man, I was good. I was on fire.

Too bad it was for the wrong frickin' job.

So I get the paper this morning and am greeted with this headline-

Reagan image: New deal for the dime? Republicans in Congress push to honor 40th president at FDR's expense

Umm, that's really nice and all, especially considering that Ronald Reagan is the greatest human being to ever walk the earth, but shouldn't you guys be doing something else? Like, for instance, adding more money to Unemployment Benefits? Or Health Care?

I think the GOP is doing stuff like this simply because they can. Let's face it, the Barbarians aren't storming the gates, the gates have been stormed. We're at the raping & pillaging stage. We're at the Manor Lords getting to sleep with all the Brides to Be stage. We're at the Vomitorium Stage. If the Republicans decided to pass a law dictating that everyone in a Blue State has to wear a hat with a propeller on it and quote the Pledge of Allegiance everytime someone from a Red State passes by them, they probably could. Who'd stop them? Most of the GOP who aren't lame-asses are either being bought off or beaten down; the Dems couldn't tie their shoe laces without asking permission first; the folks on MSNFOXNN are too busy shreiking about the Grammy Awards sucking due to being part of some Hollywood Elitist conspiracy; and the White House Press Corp are like those animals you see in the zoo who are so pilled up on downers that they can barely shit. As for us, the American People, well Trista and Ryan are getting married! And Gwynnie's Preggers!

Oh well, we do have this- Spreading Santorum.

Yes, I am proud to say that Jenna Bush- my baby, love of my life, is now my Friendster Friend. I am so happy. And she looks so hot in one of the photos.

And I'd like to share with everyone the wonderful Testimonial Jenna got from her mother and our First Lady, Laura Bush:

Sweetie, your poppy and me are worried about you. Please call us. We haven't heard from you and we're concerned. It's starting to show in your father's work. Just last week he was caught in a lie that led to the slaughter of thousands of people; he blames you. And Granny Barb is starting to get concerned as well. She's been on a 6 day binge of candy corn and Pabst Blue Ribbon since you last checked in with her...we can't see her eyes. And what the hell happened to your sister, you know, the other one..what's her name? Oh balls, I forget, but she was a bitch to give birth to, as were you, you ungreatful little slut! I hate you, and I hate my life! Someone help!...AHHHHHGHHGHGH!!!!

Touching, I know.

So let's get this straight, on a football weekend which Ira Miller of the Chron calls "...the best weekend of the NFL season" we here in the Bay Area get only two football games. The putridly mediocre Raiders vs. Steelers game and the disgustingly apathetic inducing Niners vs Cardinals game. No Titans/Colts. No Eagles/Cowboys. No Dolphins/Pats. Not even Ravens/Bengals.

Which raises two questions-
1)Is the NFL really in some sort of conspiracy to make football fans buy Direct TV as a result of too many lame-ass games put on TV?
2)When do pitchers and catchers report?

And yes, I'm loving the Sox/Yankees Cold War. Anytime you have a sports rivalry in which people are using comparisons to Sparta (the Yanks) vs. Athens (the Sox) is okay by me. I'm just waiting for the fucking Giants to do something. Anything.

Yep, I'm back home and I'm ready to rock. Two weeks with the Fam and I'm itching to go out and have me some fun. After all, a boy's gotta play. Especially since right before I left, I had Big Mo on my side and all sorts of weird and wonderful things were happening. I'm ready to keep on rolling.

Naturally, my Thursday night plans fell through. As did my Friday night plans. And, while I still have things going on this weekend as well as tickets to "Return of the King," there's a whole bunch of other stuff that I was psyched on that's now in the "well, I'm not sure I can do it then, maybe another time" limbo.

Of course, it's actually good that way. When you're unemployed and broke, the last thing you can afford is a social life.

I am a Mac Guy. I am one of those people who drank the cool-aid and worship at the altar of Apple. Hell, I'm writing this and posting this from my beloved Ruby Red iMac (the old, cute style, not the new one).

One of the things I love about Apple is that they're constantly innovating and changing things. Cool things. Things like OS systems. Which, actually, bugs the hell out of me. Install one and three months later, you get another on the market. This wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that everytime Apple comes out with something totally cool, like the Itunes Store, it's only featured for the latest OS system. Go figure. Which means, of course, that if you want the totally cool feature, you have to go out and get the new OS and I don't like getting the new OS. Once you do that, everything gets all tweaked and you have to spend the next couple of weeks rejiggering everything. My last Apple computer actually had to be sent to the shop because an OS upgrade wound up frying everything.

Which brings up the other annoying things about owning a Mac- having to listen to people constantly tell you about how great the latest upgrade/program/innovation is and ask you if you've got it yet.

From today's Chron:
Jobless benefits to expire

Unless Congress comes to the rescue, the federal program that provided an extra 13 weeks of unemployment benefits to people who used up their regular state benefits will expire at the end of this year.

R'uh oh.

From the same article-

But the new governor (Arnie) has another looming unemployment problem. Thanks to a big increase in weekly benefits and persistent high unemployment, the state's (CA) unemployment insurance fund, from which benefits are paid, is expected to run out of money in January.

Double r'uh oh.

Eh, what am I worried about. I'm sure Congress and the President will do what they always do, the right thing, and that they'll come together to help out those of us who are less fortunate. Those of us who need a little help. Those of us who don't give millions of dollars in campaign contributions or attend thousand dollar fund-raising dinners or sit on the same board as Dick Cheney does.

I think I need to get a job. Really, really soon.

How do you know you're on a plane to California- when the person boarding the plane in front of you has her skateboard tied up to her backpack.

"Spent my days with a woman unkind, Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine.
Made up my mind to make a new start, Going To California with an aching in my heart.
Someone told me there's a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.
Took my chances on a big jet plane, never let them tell you that they're all the same.
The sea was red and the sky was grey, wondered how tomorrow could ever follow today.
The mountains and the canyons started to tremble and shake
as the children of the sun began to awake... "

It's so nice to be home.

PS- I guess I should link the song lyrics so everyone knows who I'm quoting, but is there anyone who doesn't know what song that is?

Just so you know, here's the big fun I have to look forward to tomorrow- Three hour bus ride to Dulles, two hours to kill in Dulles (I'm an expert in wasting time in airports by the way, just two hours is a bit too much for me), followed by a five hour flight back home. Then, when I get home, I have to figure out how to get from Oakland to my apartment after all the shuttles have already left.

Yay.

On the other hand, I got an e-mail from a friend today asking if she wanted to pick me a ticket to see "Return of the King" on opening night as she was going to the box office after work. Naturally, I said yes. Which, of course, means.....


I'M GOING TO SEE "RETURN OF THE KING" ON OPENING NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hmmm. Interesting Op-Ed piece in the Chron today (and yes, I'm still keeping abreast of what's going on in SF because I've reached that I'm gonna hurl stage of home-sickness). Basic gist of it is that instead of bashing Mayoral Candidate the Poet Prince, a member of the Green Party for being Green, the Dems should say "jolly good show" and hop on board. See, if it weren't for Greens, the Dems would be nowhere (not that the Dems aren't nowhere now, but, well, you know).

As the Op-Ed argued, it turns out that instead of condemning the Greens for what happened in 2000, we should thank them. Cause if it weren't for Nader, Gore would have, umm, "lost" by wider margin in the last election. Yay!

In fact-

Before Nader entered the race, Gore was headed for a landslide loss to George W. Bush, running a campaign that was so bland that I defy you, dear reader, to remember one thing that Gore stood for. Only Nader's entry stirred up enough hope in the progressive core of the majority of the population to get people to come out and vote in such large numbers between 5 and 8 p.m. on election night, some for Nader but many, many more for Gore as the projected incarnation of the Democrats' progressive heritage.

So as a Democrat, I change my mind. I'd like to thank the Greens for helping out the country way back in 00 for without you, we would have had no Hanging Chads, no Katherine Harris, and no butterfly ballots. Because without you, the Greens, the election would have been a blow out.

So thank you. Thank you Green Party.

And for now on, I'll forget that if only a few thousand of you tofu-heads would have voted for Gore instead of Nader in Florida, or if Nader hadn't spent much of his remaining few days during the campaign bashing Gore in states like Florida, or that you were too busy on your Children's Crusade to listen to people who kept on telling you that there is a difference between parties and that there really was a lot at stake during the election, this country would not even be remotely in the mess we are in now.

So, once again, Thank You. Really. And stay away from the organic rice diets, they sometimes make you lose sight of reality.

So, according to Hotmail, Britney's all upset because not enough people are focusing on her music. Note to Britney- maybe, next time, if you really want to show that "you're all about the music" you shouldn't go on every TV show known to mankind to discuss your love life; show your breasts, midriff, or butt in every photo shoot; "kiss" Madonna on the MTV Award Show; and release completely craptastic songs without any point other than saying to people "hey, I'm not a virgin, I have sex too!" Maybe, just maybe people will talk about your music. Actually, considering how well your new album is bombing, it's probably better that you spend the rest of the career trying to show off just as much flesh as possible without actually going full frontal as it seems to be the only thing people care about you.

Big doings on at dad's house today as one of my ten year old half-sisters classmates forged an anonymous e-mail account, then sent out pornographic e-mails to a bunch of her fellow classmates. After further digging, it was discovered that Baby Sis was also about to do the same in return with an even more pornographic e-mail. While I'm not sure what's more shocking- the sending of pornographic e-mails by ten year olds or the ability of said ten year olds to make fake AOL accounts to send out said pornographic e-mails- I do know that I'm pretty sure things like this are not covered in any parenting book.

Good luck to all you parents out there.

PS- I've heard stories about the heavy work-load thrust upon students being the cause of backpacks so big that kids are having back problems, but according to my dad, there are kids who now have backpacks with wheels to lug their books around.

Yeah, I know, this is way too easy, but still....

If you're an organization that's spending billions of dollars in damages caused by your members having sex with altar boys, maybe you shouldn't be saying anything about gay marriage being immoral

Can we finally get around to working on a Transporter Beam please? I mean, all those other Star Trek gadgets are almost real, but you don't hear anything about Transporter Beam work. Do we really need telephones that take pictures or Plasma Screen TV's? I just spent ten hours in a cramped car with a hyper-active 10 year old, damnit. Get working on those Transporter Beams.

Side note- imagine the insurance premiums on those suckers if they ever do get invented. We've all seen "the Fly," something like that's going to be pretty expensive to pay off.

In Massachusettes (or however you spell it). It's kind of weird being here. I feel like I've entered this foriegn, semi-mythical land full of it's downtrodden, oppressed masses whose legend is something you mainly hear about but never see. I'm talking, of course, about Red Sox Nation.

I always bitch about these trips back home. Instead of, say, drinking margarita's in Cabo, Mai Tai's in Hawaii, or pints in Ireland, I have to go home for one of those "If it's Tuesday, I must be in Shippensburg" type trips. So far, I've started off in DC, went to Carlisle PA, and then spent the weekend in the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Tomorrow I'm off to Massachusetts (yeah, I know I spelled it wrong- so sue me) for Turkey Day in the Berkshire's and then back down to Baltimore and maybe a day or two back in DC.

Yes, it's a lot of places in a lot of time, none involving frou-frou drinks, beaches, or bikini's. On the other hand, I’ve realized that in one two and a half week trip, I’m seeing more of this country than most people do. I've been to a bar that features 1000 beers, seen the capital building, drove around some beautiful PA farmland, saw a pastel sunset over the shores of St. Michael's MD, saw storks swim and ducks fly, and eaten lots of yummy food for free. I still have New England in the late fall and Baltimore left on my trip.

It’s actually kind of cool.

The other big thing I’ve realized so far is that I can’t fucking wait to go back home. I miss my beautifully mad crazy San Francisco.

Well, well, well....I just went on Craig's List to check the job board and I noticed that a job that looks suspiciously like that of my ex-boss has been posted. Right down to a T. And all I can think of now, sitting here in the middle of nowhere PA, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OVER THERE?

Is my boss now unemployed, living off unemployment and credit cards, thinking up excuses to get out of bed, having her parents pay all of her bills? Did the company finally figure out that maybe yelling at people and emotional instablity is not a productive way to be a manager? Are they realizing that maybe there was a little too much work to do? It's driving me crazy. Especially since the last thing I had heard was that people were starting to turn against her. And now that I see this, I wonder if what happened to me just maybe, maybe, was the stemming of the tide, the ripple that caused the wave, the pebble that started the avalanche.

And if so, can I have my job back?

What's going on there, Jenna? Huh Jenna? What you did to me not looking so good anymore, Jenna?

Bite me, Jenna.

So, I was wondering the other day whatever happened to Britney Spears? Used to be you couldn't go a day or two without hearing about her. Man, that was so long ago. Now, it's like she's disappeared or something.

I miss those days.

Ahh, yes. There's nothing like hanging with the uncle who used to be a well-read, thoughtful moderate Republican only to discover that in the past few years he's turned into a well-read, reactionary, hard-core Republican with a slight racist bent and a jones for Anne Coulter.

God, I love those lunch-time conversations.

4,000 years of tradition, thought and practice and it all comes down to this- according to People Magazine, Paris Hilton is so shook up about her sex tape that she's taking Kabbalah classes.

We Jews, as a people, have come so far.

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Scene: my mother’s living room in Carlisle PA, a small town nestled near Harrisburg, a place somewhere near the middle of nowhere. Lunchtime

Mom: If we want to go see “Master and Commander” tonight, we should probably try first for the 7:00 because if it’s sold out we can rush on over to the other theater and try to make it to the 7:20 showing.

Me: Oh, don’t worry about that. We’ll just preorder the tickets now.

Mom: You can do that?

Me: Yeah, you know, call Moviefone and order tickets that way…

Mom: I don’t know if they do that here

Me: Huh? No, they got to. It’s the best thing to happen to movies since George Lucas thought up the idea of Carrie Fisher wearing danishes on her head (note- well, I didn’t actually say that, but I said wasn’t nearly as clever).

Mom: I don’t know, I’ve never heard of it.

Me: Here, I’ll show you.

Calls 777-Film. Gets a message saying number doesn’t work and tries again. Same message.

Me: Hmm. That’s weird, I’ll just go and order them online on either Fandango.com or Moviefone.com

Mom: I don’t think you can do that here. I’ve never heard of that happening.

Me: No, it has to. You can do it anywhere.

Goes online and checks Fandango.com and Moviefone.com. No luck.

Me: That’s weird, I guess you can’t preorder tickets here.

Mom: Oh well, I guess we’ll just go for the 7 o’clock showing then.

Me (internally): What the hell is wrong with this place? How can you not preorder movie tickets? What the hell do people do?

If I were the Bush Administration, I'd give that big, huge, eat-crow speech that the entire world wants to hear and I'd do it now. You know, the speech where he finally admits that he made up the whole WMD thing, the Al Queda thing, the we're doing well in Iraq thing, and the we know what we're doing thing. Why now? Because ever since the first reports about Michael Jackson getting charged with molesting children came out, I don't think there's anyone left in the press to cover the speech.

As I was flipping through the channels, I saw this guy pontificate about Jackson's arrest and made this brilliantly illuminating observation: "oh, I think this thing is going to be huge."

Ya think?

As I expected, after not hearing anything job-wise for months, the moment I take off for a couple of weeks, I'm getting all sorts of calls. Got a call yesterday and one- a good one- today. All of which I knew would happen because stuff like this always happens. In fact, if I was smart, I should have thought about leaving but stayed because that way I could have gotten a job. Of course, if I would have stayed, I wouldn't have gotten any calls because, well, that would have been too easy.

Yesterday, the 17th, was Mickey Mouse’s 75th Birthday. Or at least, it marked the 75th Anniversary of his first appearance in a cartoon. I’m actually surprised Disney hasn’t hit us over the head with this, like they always do, but then again, I don’t see Disney doing a lot of advertising during "Buffy" reruns or "The Tough Crowd."

With all this hoopla going on, it makes me think about the omnipresent mouse and wonder just how did Mickey Mouse become MICKEY MOUSE, the symbol for all that is good, all that is whole wholesome, all that is the be all and end all of children’s entertainment (not to mention the symbol of a huge, monolithic, evil Borg-like corporate entity). It’s as if Mickey Mouse is the greatest thing to happen to children since the invention of candy and freeze tag and we should all be blessed by the entertainment the mouse has provided.

My question, though is, this: other than his guest spot in "Fantasia," what else does anyone remember Mickey Mouse doing? Can anyone remember a cartoon of his? A funny moment? Maybe even a single characteristic that made him the wet dream of pre-pre-pubescent children. The same goes for the rest of his pals too- Donald, Goofy, Pluto, Minnie. I can actually remember a cartoon here or there that I watched as a kid but for the life of me, I can’t recall what the cartoons were about, what happened, or even if they were that funny.

Now think back to "Who Framed Roger Rabbit." When the movie came out, a big deal was made that the movie would feature both the Disney cartoon characters and the WB cartoon characters. It was hyped like the cartoon equivalent of the Stones jamming with the Beatles. I also remember that it was agreed between all the various parties that Mickey and Bugs would each get the equal amount of screen time and equal amount of lines, as if both were prima donna starlets as opposed to cartoon characters.

When the big moment came, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit ripped off. Here was Bugs meetings Mickey and we got the same amount of Mickey as we did Bugs, despite the fact that Bugs Bunny so kicks Mickey’s ass. If Bugs were to meet Mickey in a cartoon, he’d have Mickey so fluxxomed he’d make Elmer Fudd look like a figure out of Hemingway. Same goes with the rest of his crew- Daffy, Tweety, Sylvester, Elmer Fudd, Yosemite Sam and all the rest. Bugs Bunny rocks like "Living After Midnight" era-Judas Priest. Mickey rocks like Air Supply.

Occasionally, on a Saturday morning I’ll flip onto a Bugs Bunny cartoon and watch one or two cartoons. You know what? They’re still funny. Really funny. Just thinking about Elmer Fudd singing "Kill the Wabbit" or the whole "duck season/rabbit season" thing brings a smile to my face (and I bet I'm not the only one- even those who are coming here looking for the Paris Hilton tape).

So then, what’s the big deal about Mickey’s birthday? Let’s face it, when it comes to cartoon characters, Mickey is nothing but the Britney Spears of cartoon characters- a talentless hack made into a pop icon by the sheer force of corporate will.

Mickey Mouse sucks.

I gave up on "War & Peace" today and returned it to the library. I'm heading off to the East Coast in an attempt to see if there really is seven days worth of things to do in Harrisburg and thought "War & Peace" just isn't vacation worthy.

I never really got that far with it. In fact, I got about forty pages into it. It's not like I don't want to read it or think that it's too hard to read, it's just that, as I said, it's not the kind of book you just read casually. To read it, I'd have to be disciplined enough to sit down and do it and considering that often the most difficult part of my day is deciding whether to watch "Charmed" or "90210" on F/X at 9, I'm not really feeling the self-discipline thing. That could, of course, be why I haven't gotten a job yet, but that's a story for another time.

Luckily, F/X has rearranged their schedule so that "90210" isn't on at the same time as "Charmed" is so my life is that much easier. On the other hand, I have no idea when they show it and as they were just getting into the Brenda in Paris, Kelly & Dylan flirting part, it's kind of a shame. We are talking about some of the best TV ever to grace the boob tube after all.

It actually turned out to be a good thing to see "the Matrix Revolutions" a couple of weeks after it opened because after having my expectations completely lowered, it turns out that it wasn't as bad as I thought. Keep in mind, though, that by saying it wasn't as bad as I thought, I meant I thought it would blow. There are some pretty cool fight scenes and battle scenes in there that make great eye-candy, especially all Imaxed up like I saw it today, although I do have to say the best part of seeing it all Imaxed up was Monica Belluci's twenty-foot breasts.

The best criticism I read about why the two Matrix sequels sucked so badly came from Slate, which pointed out that the fun of the first Matrix was all in the through the looking glass fake/real world part of it- that the world that we think is reality turns out not to be. Because that's the reality we think is the reality, we care more about it and are brought into it. The two sequels take place mostly in the non-fake world, the world of Zion and, frankly, yawn. The battle sequence is pretty spectacular but kind of boring all at the same time.

I also think the problem was that, as the old adage goes about James Bond flicks- the movies are only as good as the villains are and the villains in the Matrix trilogy aren't that villainous. There's no Darth Vader, no Khan, no Cobra Kai, no Big Bad to make you really want to root for the hero (but also think that the bad guy is kind of cool at the same time.) Let's face it, having machine's as bad guys never really works because machines are kind of boring- no personality or motivation. They don't even have a face to associate them with or, at least, a face that doesn't look like a souped up version of Wizard in "the Wizard of Oz" like this flick had (something that makes me wonder about "The Return of the King" because so far the bad guy is just a floating eyeball. Not exactly scary. But who am I kidding? The movie is so gonna rock/ so nevermind). So while seeing a thousand squiddies beset Zion and almost destroy it is kind of exciting, you also don't really care. My hunch is that's why Mr. Smith is made to be the ultimate bad guy, because the Wachowski brothers realized that the machine's really weren't that excitingly evil. While Mr. Smith was creepily evil in "The Matrix" he's not evil enough to have the ultimate showdown be against him.

So, in other words, if anyone asks, there's only one "Matrix" movie and that's the first one. Kind of like "The Phantom Menace" or "Attack of the Clones" don't really count as "Star Wars" flicks. And don't get me started on the last season of "Buffy."

As of 11 this morning, Arnold Schwarzenegger is now my Governor. Yes, as a citizen of the Great State of California, I can say with great pride that my President is George W. Bush and my Governor is Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I think I'll stop now before I start crying.

“Life is just a series of peaks and troughs. And you don’t know whether you’re in a trough until you’re climbing out, or on a peak until you’re coming down. And that’s it you know, you never know what’s round the corner. But it’s all good. ‘If you want the rainbow, you’ve gotta put up with the rain.’ Do you know which philosopher said that? Dolly Parton. And people say she’s just a big pair of tits.”

-David Brent

I saw "Elf" last night. Not bad. This, however, is the lesson that I learned from it: if I spent all my time wearing a funny hat and tights, acted like a goofy man-child, and was way too excited about Christmas, I too could get Zooey Deschanel

PS- In the trailer for next week's, "Cat in the Hat," there's a bit where the Cat (Michael Myers) is told not to do something and in response, he does the full black-woman on Oprah "don't go there" routine. Now, it's been awhile since I've read "Cat in the Hat" or seen the cartoon, but I'm damn sure that there was no black-woman on Oprah "don't go there" routine in there.

It appears that Jenna Bush will not be my Friendster Friend as I haven't heard back from her yet about the possibility of being a Friendster Friend. Dang nabbit. And here I was hoping that I'd finally have a connection to everyone's favorite partying First Twin.

So maybe it wasn't really her. Maybe it wouldn't make sense for someone whose father is the most powerful person in the world whenever Dick Cheney goes on a vacation to be found on Fuckster. Or maybe it's because the Secret Service ran an intesive search on me when I sent my profile over and discovered I wasn't Friendster Friend material. In which case, I probably should hope it wasn't really her or I'll probably be owing more than I already owe to the IRS.

It's Saturday morning, I'm drinking some yummy Orange Pekoe Tea, I'm listening to Sigur Ros, and I'm trying- I'm trying Ringo- to be all mellow and not to be all pissy and cranky like I usually am, but then I did it. I screwed the pooch. I read the paper.

There, on the front page of the Chron is a story about the new "energy" bill. We already know that the bill is gonna be lame, especially considering it was basically written by Cheney and all of his oil industry homies, but I can't even make it out of the first paragraph without throwing my paper across the room and thinking that maybe Sigur Ros is a little too angsty for this morning.

Yo, check this out-

"Republicans announced completion Friday of closed-door negotiations on the first national energy bill in more than a decade -- a top priority for President Bush -- but still have not made public or even shown to Democrats the contents of the roughly 1,700-page bill, setting up a showdown over passage in the Senate next week. "

Yes, let's pass a major piece of legislation but not allow anyone to see it. Better yet, let's force a vote down the Democrats throats without letting them see it. Why not? It's fun. Maybe we'll just throw in there things like free tax breaks for anyone who buys a Hummer. Or better, yet, free Hummer's for anyone who votes for Bush in '04. Or maybe even a law that forces the networks to air nothging but 24-hours straight of "The Newlyweds." Who'd know? It's not like anyone is allowed to read the thing.

And another thing. Let's have a big huge vote about giving $87 billion to Iraq, but instead of having every Senator get up and state their position, thus ensuring accountability, let's just do it by voice vote so nobody has to actually state a position.

The only thing I can say is this- what the fuck?

In light of the recent 40-hour talk-a-thon thrown by Republican Senators and led by my buddy Rick Santorum, a fillibuster thrown to highlight the Democrats shocking (shocking!) partisanship by not voting in four judges, all of whom could be described somewhere to the right of Hester Prynne's townsfolk (hey, I can drop in some classic American literature), I give you this:

The other day, after waking up hung-over and having made a late night pizza run, I spent the morning blowing stuff out of my ass so nasty that that my toilet looked Santorum.

Just when I thought today was going to be pointless....I finally was able to download the Paris Hilton sex tape.

It's a little unfair to review it as it's only a five-minute snippet of purportedly a much larger piece. It's like trying to gauge the sheer epic-ness of "The Return of the King" from the twenty minute preview that's been shown around Hollywood. Judgements about it's worth will have to wait until the full-version is seen, but so far, it doesn't look like it'll measure up the Pamela & Tommy Lee tape, the "Citizen Kane" of celebrity sex tapes. No, this doesn't appear to have the sheer passion, the romanticism and poignancy seen in the other tape. How could it not? It's hard to beat the sheer romantic scale of two star-crossed lovers proclaiming their love for each other over and over and over (and over) again and it's hard to top the tape's powerful climatic shot of Tommy in tears of joy as the manifestation of their love is made complete with him doing her on the boat. On the other hand, it doesn't have the seedy "is that what all the hoopla's about?" of the Rob Lowe tape.

What we do see isn't half-bad, although it's cinematography is definitely lacking. It's mainly grainy and dark, almost too much so. It's often hard to figure out whose bent where and whose doing what where. At times, it looks like it was filmed with one of those night scope cameras and I'm not sure what effect is being aimed for. Is it supposed to be avant-garde? An attempt at Indy-style filmmaking? Or merely the usage of faulty equipment? Besides being hard to see, occasionally the eyes of Paris are lit up, like Meerkats at night or demon's in cheesy TV shows in which they're demonness is conveyed by the lighting of their eyes (see "Charmed."). Paris herself is a cipher, never fully giving herself to the role. In fact, she looks almost passionless and maybe a tad messed up. While her partner, the future ex-Mr. Shannon Doherty appears to be fully into it, praising Paris for her looks and giving himself completely to several of the positions, Paris vacantly stares at the camera, even stopping half-way through to answer the phone.

As the clip ends, she is shown doing a Lewinsky with a TV or radio blasting hip-hop in the background. It's one of the few times we can see her face and get a clear view of what's going on. A comment on the white noise that we use to fill our despair perhaps? Either way, as a final image, it's haunting, despite it's obvious lifting of the end of the brilliant foreign import tape featuring Sweden's very own Bjorn Gunderson and French heiress Lille de Brie.

Still, for five minutes worth of debasement and humiliation starring two people who deserve as much debasement and humiliation as they get, I give it a thumbs up.

Don't ask me how I figured this one out, but apparently I am four Friendster Friends seperated from the one, the only Jenna Bush (that is, of course, if she is the one and only Jenna Bush and not what they call, a Fakester). I, thinking it possible to add one of my dream girls to my Friendster Friend collection immediately asked her to be my Friendster Friend. So far, no response.

Oh, Jenna, how can you know what true love would be if you don't take a chance? Together, we could make beautiful music together and then I can videotape it and post it all over the internet.

I hate when you have those weeks that, when it begins, it looks all shiny and fun and full of things to do but then everything falls through and you wind up doing nothing but renting Season 1 of "The Office" on DVD. And I don't even have a DVD player. I'm basically watching three hours of TV on DVD on my 17" iMac screen.

On the other hand, "the Office" is pretty brilliant.

Limb by limb and tooth by tooth
Tearing up inside of me
Every day every hour
I wish that I was bullet proof

Wax me
Mould me
Heat the pins and stab them in
You have turned me into this
Just wish that it was bullet proof

(is it too High School angsty if I occasionally post really depressing song lyrics when I'm in the mood? It's not like it's something I'm writing nor something of interest to anyone reading, but this week has gone from really promising to fantastically shit-sandwhich and that's how I'm feeling. It's either posting really depressing song lyrics or posting really depressing poetry and you wouldn't want me to post my really depressing poetry. Among other things, I don't write poetry. I suck at poetry. So Radiohead it is).

Got a random call from one of the Temp Agencies I'm signed up with yet never call for an appointment tomorrow. They want me to come in to meet the Big Guy and talk about whatever it is they want to talk about. I have no idea why the sudden call to come in, but I can't tell you how excited I am to have to get up early, get into decent clothes, go downtown, and discuss what sort of low-paying brainless Temp job I want out of life.

Riddle me this Batman, why is okay to show nippleage if it's covered by only the slimmest, most see-throughingst clothes, but not okay to show nippleage if it's sans cloth. I ask this in light of the VH-1 show that aired tonight "Getting Naked," a show which, if I'm not mistaken, was all about celebrities who've been caught showing either nippleage or ass-crack. And while certainly a fascinating subject, why would Vh-1 do an entire show that showed nothing but blurred out and barely clothed celebrity skin.

Oh, duh, nevermind.

For heaven's sake, would someone please think of the children?

I've been meaning to do this for awhile and now's as good a chance as any, so I'd like to give a shout out to Dan Savage of the sex-advice column "Savage Love" for brilliantly attacking the notoriously dim-witted lunkhead Senator Rick Santorum for his comments about homosexuality by naming a disgusting after affect of anal-sex after the aforementioned Senator. The idea, of course, is to honor the Senator for his lunkheadedness in such a way that his very name becomes associated with something incredibly disgusting that his very name will be besmirched. Not to mention the irony of his name being associated with something commonly dealt with by the people he has so lamely attacked.

So, to give my support for Dan Savage's movement, I will from hereon in do my part for the cause and use the term Santorum as much as possible. Not in discussion of the actual act (hey, I'm a nice Jewish boy), but as a term for anything disgusting. Things like- that shot of Lawrence Taylor hitting Joe Theismann was so disgusting it was Santorum. Or that scene where Uma Thurman bit the tongue of the attempted rapist in "Kill Bill" was Santorum. Or maybe even Christina Aguilera is beyond skanky, she's Santorum.

After all, the more the term "Santorum" is used in normal conversion, the more honor we give to them man himself.

I'm sitting around reading and watching some football when I notice that the Bucs/Panthers game suddenly gets interesting. With about two minutes left, the Panthers engineer a brilliant three-play drive to get a TD and take the lead away from the defending Super Bowl champs. Now there's only about a minute and a half left and the Bucs are about to get the ball. So I'm thinking this could get interesting.

But just as the Bucs were about to get the kickoff, they go to the Fox Studios and announce that due to NFL bylaws, it's passed the broadcast point for this game and so they can't show the rest of the game. And just like that, no more football on Fox, despite the fact this game was still on and headed for an epic ending.

Turns out the rule is because the Raiders game was about to start and there's a rule in the NFL that if the home team is playing a game, they have to show the home team's game and can't show any others. Except the Raiders game was blacked out due to low ticket sales so we didn't get the Raiders game. Instead, we got the all-exciting Cowboys/Bills game. Also, for reasons I'm still not clear on, because the Raiders game was blacked out, CBS couldn't show a morning game. In effect the NFL is punishing us- Joe Sixpack Football Fan, for not supporting the putrid mess that is the Raiders by taking away most of our football.

So, to sum up- the end of the Bucs/Panthers game couldn't be shown because the Raiders game was coming on. Except it wasn't. And since it wasn't, we couldn't get the Dolphins/Titans game or any number of interesting games that could have been shown.

Look, Major League Baseball may be run by a bunch of idiots, but the people who run the NFL are not only weasels, but such weasley weasels that actual weasels think that they give weasels a bad name.

PS- My fantasy football team sucks. Really sucks.
PPS- Dear SF Giants, sign Vlad. Sign him now. Trust me on this one.

Men's room graffiti spotted at the Pig & Whistle on Geary:

"Today marks the day that Pres. Abe Lincoln stood up and said 'stop dissing my homies.'"

Hey, so according to the Weekly World News Osama & Sadam are not only hiding out together, but have recently married and just adopted a baby chimp.

The question, of course, is how come the Weekly World News knows all this stuff yet we can't find them?

After having "War and Peace" for a week, I'm up to page 25. It's not that I don't want to read it or that it's that difficult to read, it's just that it's a little intimidating. It is hard to sit there and think about casually reading something when it's about 1200 pages and considered to be the Greatest Novel Ever Written. It's not like it's the kind of book you pick up casually and take into the bathroom with you, or read on the bus, or read while also sort-of watching football. Hell, the book is so big it doesn't really fit on my night stand.

I keep on saying to myself that I should start reading it, but then I take a look at the thing, get a little scared off, and think that maybe I'll start in after doing maybe a bit more reading about the Paris Hilton tape or the about-to-explode Prince Charles playing for both teams story. Not to mention that there's way too many cable channel's to pick from. Next thing I know another day has passed and I haven't read it yet.

PS- as for those Charles stories- be afraid, be very afraid. My guess is to not watch any Cable News Channel for the next three months because this thing is gonna be big and it's gonna be ugly. It's already become a National Enqurer meets Kafka kind of story. This thing is gonna be so big that if Donald Rumsfield himself had a complete breakdown during one of his press conferences and tearfully admitted that he did screw everything up and that the world is going to hell in a hand-basket because of him, nobody would notice. And forget anyone caring that the White House just announced that they're simply way too busy to respond to any questions that might come from a Democrat.

Is Elizabeth Smart the Utah girl who got kidnapped by Mormon fanatics in Iraq or is she the one that was held POW by a branch of Al Qeda sleeper cells in Utah? Or was that Jessica Lynch? And was any of them killed by their husband who was having an affair with Princess Diana's butler?

I'm so confused

Ugh, I'm sorry. I'll bring the funny tomorrow- guess I just got the ole cranky pants on today.
Since I'm about to get reviewed by some Jewish Blog Ring to see if the Tribe will let me be part of the Tribes Web circle (so we can control the world that much more efficiently), maybe I'll post my brilliant idea on the Jewish Porn site I'd like to see.

Or about how going to see the Matrix this weekend has turned into a huge ordeal.

This is why I don't like the "Progressives" in San Francisco. This is why I vote not out of who or what I think best but what'll piss these people off the most.

From a SF Political blog:

"Dozens of Gonzonistas sported buttons declaring “Gavin Newsom is a pussy,” and congratulated each other in a South of Market art gallery cum gin joint last night, knocking back cocktails and savoring their stick-it-to-the-man moment under ersatz Newsom posters that had been altered to declare “NoScum.”

The display portends much uglier business. In the months leading up to last night's election, Newsom's opponents increasingly relied on dirty tricks, vandalizing Newsom campaign signs all over town, filing fraudulent complaints with the San Francisco Department of Public Health against his restaurants and even making death threats."

Classy.

Here's another one of those dirty little secrets about SF. The so-called "Progressives" are just as sanctimonous, just as self-righteous, just as full of themselves as the Far Right. But, of course, if you accused them of it, they'd give you a long tirade about how open-minded and tolerant they are.

Just as the Replubicans drive me up a wall because of their ends-justifying-the-means philosphy- what with trying impeaching a President, the redistricting in Texas, the 2000 election and numerous other devious little tricks- the Progressives do it too. They're just not as good as the Replublicans are. They just like to throw temper tantrums instead.

Want more? From a story in Salon about the campaign and why the writer (Joan Walsh) was sympathetic to Newsom:

"... I hated the campaign against Care Not Cash, which was really a campaign against Newsom, in which nasty lefty know-it-alls hit him with pies, threw stink bombs into the restaurants he owned, papered the town with fliers printing his home phone number and demonized him mostly because they could. It was a thuggish kind of politics that disgusts me, and I blamed its practitioners for marginalizing someone who isn't a villain, who doesn't have horns, who had been a champion of drug treatment and a smart mind and decent vote on human service issues, whose crime it was to see the problems of poverty and social services differently from the advocacy community."

What I'm trying to say is this- just because you're an asshole on the Left and not an asshole on the Right doesn't mean you're still not an asshole.

And another thing about Recruiters- they call you up one day, tell you that they have a job that you'd be perfect for and that it's not only temp-to-perm and good paying, but it just happens to be at the rival company of your ex-company. And then a day later, just as you're that much salivating over the possibility of the job and have visions of word getting out about your new job percolating through your ex-company, they call to say "oops, it was already filled. Sorry."

Buckle up, it's rant time….

Fucking recruiters. I knew I shouldn't have trusted them from previous experience, but I started to trust them this time around. Silly me- I guess I just thought they'd actually help me. Even sillier, I believed them when they told me I had a really good resume, that I shouldn't have a problem finding work, and that they're "working on a few things."

Got an e-mail yesterday from a recruiter about a job. A half-way decent one too. So I called them up and asked what the what is. When I got on the phone with the Recruiter, she asked me how's it going and when I told her I'm still looking for work I got this as a response: "really? Why?"

Umm, maybe it's because you guys don't have anything for me. Or tell me you have something and then tell me nevermind. Or send me on an interview and then tell me it went to someone internally. Plus, you know, I figure that as it is there jobs to get people jobs, they'd know what it's like out there, that it's actually harder right now than it was last year (recovery my fucking ass). Shouldn't they know it's hard too?

Then I talked to another agency this morning. I call them about once every three weeks just to check in and everytime I call them they tell me that they're working on something, that they love my resume, and that I'm on the top of their list of people to send out for interviews. Today when I talked to them they told me, that they had a bunch of jobs out there that they've sent people out on, but, ooops, I "fell through the cracks." Which, he tells me, happens sometimes. Especially to people they keep on telling that they're on the top of the list and should have something for soon. And then he asked me what I've been doing since I've been unemployed.

So how's this for an answer- sitting by the fucking phone waiting for you to do your fucking job and get me a job.

I mean, if it's their job to get me a job and they're not getting me a job, shouldn't they at least not be surprised that I don't have one?

You know, it's good that I have this blog because it's either I rant here or start kicking things in my apartment and my toe still hurts from the last time I kicked things.

I don't know whether it's because it's Fox News or whether it's just your typical business show, but just in one minute of watching the news, I heard-

-It's not WalMart's fault they're hiring illegal immigrants to work there for below minimum wages, it's the Global Economy. See, the Global Economy says try and find the lowest paid workers as possible and that's what WalMart did. In fact, we should praise WalMart for not only keeping those jobs in America but for being so clever to figure out how to be competitive. So bully for WalMart (of course, we should do everything to keep those Mexican's from working in the country and take away all their benefits because they take jobs away from Americans, although, on the other hand, they are a pretty good way to constantly scare Whitey into voting Republican.)

-WalMart's future is looking up because they've only begun to expand into Mexico and China and it'll only be a few more years before they take over those countries too!

-And, of course, the economy is doing great (except, of course, for all the unemployed people or all the recently laid-off people or all the uninsured people, but who cares about them, they're all poor!)

I think there should be a news show called "Bitch Slap." It would, of course, be hosted by me. In the show, anyone who says something completely ridiculous, gets bitch slapped. It's kind of like the "O'Reilly Factor" except not hosted by a pompous blowhard. I swear, sometimes I think it's like the entire country is speaking a different language from me because absolutely nothing anyone says makes sense anymore.

I'm watching "Charmed," a show I seem to be inexorably drawn to despite the inherent Spelling-ness of it all, when all of a sudden the screen goes black, followed by one of those high-pitched sounds. Oh my God, I thought, it's the kicking in of the Emergency Broadcast System. I thought those things had gone away, a Cold War relic thrown away into some attic never to be used unless something really, really bad happens. Is something bad happening?

My mind started racing. I flipped through the channels and noticed that every channel on my cable had gone black and was broadcasting the sound. What could it be? Nuclear attack? Terrorrism? Impending earthquake?

Nope, turns out some kid might have been abducted and they were alerting the entire Bay Area that there was a child abduction going down. Hearing this, I did what any red-blooded concerned citizen would do- grabbed my jacket and headed outside to help stop the child abduction. Because, of course, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE THINK OF THE CHILDREN?

And it's a Run-off!

This means it'll be our third election in three months. And not only will it be for the Mayoral race (it is between the Wannabe Philosopher King vs. the Rich Prince) but one for DA too (only in SF is the lowest conviction rate in the state seen as a good thing). I know, I know, you're all jealous.

While I don't think the run-off thing is a bad idea, it makes the election kind of weird. Basically, how it works is that the normal election is like the NBA regular season and then run-offs are the playoffs. All we basically did was eliminate all the other losers before we can get to the excitement. And like the NBA season, it seems to go on and on and on until you get to the point where it's San Antonio vs. New Jersey and nobody cares anymore.

All of which means one more month of mail-boxes stuffed with flyers, taped phone call messages, and hyperventilating citizens.

Whoopee!

A long time ago I wrote about the Homeless Guy who always hangs around my door stoop. I don't like running into him because I actually paid him some money when I first moved in to help move a dresser up so he knows me. He's also outside my apartment almost daily so I run into him at least two to three times a week. I haven't given him any money (like I have any), but because we see each other all the time and because he's been in my apartment, it's been, kind of a touchy thing. It is, after all, no longer an impersonal homeless guy vs. non-homeless guy panhandling thing, but a personal homeless guy vs. non-homeless guy panhandling thing.

Today, as I was getting dropped off at my apartment and dashing across the street, he was there waiting for me. As I brushed by him, I heard him telling me that he's been trying forever to get me to buy a Street Sheet but I've never bought one. As if I'm doing something wrong by not buying one.

Am I going to have to move into another place just so I can avoid getting guilt tripped by homeless people?