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.