I'm sure you've heard about this quote as it's pretty crazy. Then again, maybe you haven't because while it's been all around the whacky world of liberal blogs, MSFOXNN hasn't really talked about it. Much much too busy trying to get to the bottom of whether or not John Kerry threw ribbons or medals over that fence way back in 1971. And, of course, whether or not his injuries in the Vietnam war were macho enough. Oh wait, the Daily Show did cover it. Thank God for the Daily Show

So, anyways, here's the quote, courtesy of White House Flak, Karen Hughes on abortion:

"I think after September 11, the American people are valuing life more and realizing that we need policies to value the dignity and worth of every life. And I think those are the kind of policies that the American people can support, particularly at a time when we're facing an enemy, and really the fundamental difference between us and the terror network we fight is that we value every life."

Right, because if we don't let Religious Fundamentalists make our social policies, than the Islamic Fascists will have won.

In my reality, this becomes a big story. The White House is flummoxed and Karen Hughes embarrassed. Alan Colmes gets a backbone on this and shuts Hannity up. And every woman and youth gets a clue and realizes what's really going on and overwhelmingly votes to get rid of Smirkboy. Even if Kerry is a douchebag.

Oh yeah, and in this reality, Wolf Blitzer uses his fucking brain and puts the bitch-slap on Karen Hughes for saying that on his program. Which, of course, he didn't because he's lame.

Seriously, we have about eight more months of this to look forward to.

Got a Temp job for the next day or two answering phones at a Property Management company on Treasure Island. Answering phones is kind of a weird job in that it's extremely boring (more lots of web surfing) mixed with intermittent work. You're sitting there, surfing surfing surfing and then, blammo, the phone rings and it's Go! Go! Go!. Except the Go! Go! Go! Part usually lasts for about twenty seconds and then it's back to surfing, surfing, surfing.

It is kind of nice that it's on Treasure Island, though. Treasure Island has one of the most amazing views of San Francisco you could see, which means it's one of the best views in the world. This grizzled old, Bored Now San Fran denizen has long since lost his appreciation of just how beautiful this city can be. Or maybe it's just because all I see are crack heads and guys with trucker hats. There's also a nice ocean breeze in the air which makes me remember that, oh yeah, I do live by the Ocean. I also remember that I like living near the Ocean and that it's something to be happy about. One of the things that dragged me out here in the first place was because I was able to go to a school by the water and the ridiculousness of going to college in a place surrounded on three sides by the Pacific Ocean still makes me wonder how I was able to pull that one off. There is something refreshing to an Ocean Breeze that just puts a smile on your face.

Which reminds me- I need to somehow figure out how I can get my insurance company to spring for a three day trip to Mexico for me. They can give me whatever drug they want and nothing would do as much good for me as three days on the beach doing nothing but drinking Corona's and Margarita's. Do you think they'd go for it?

Yay, it's crazy temp place again!

Got another gig at the place I was working at a few weeks ago, the place that was kind of nice and kind of steady but was slightly crazy in that the supervisor was never actually around to tell me what to do. Went in this morning and- surprise, surprise- the supervisor wasn't there. Not only that, he hadn't told anyone I was coming in so no computer, no work, not even a clue as to what he wanted me to do. And so I waited to see if he would come in. I read the paper, I got something to drink, I thumb twiddled and after forty-five minutes or so called the Temp Agency. Luckily, the Supervisor had called them in the morning to let them he wouldn't be in and that I couldn't start today, which is great of him if it weren't for the fact that it took him about three days to let the temp agency no. Thus explaining the thumb-twiddling from me. And with that, I got to go home.

Now it's always kind of nice when you're not working. Except for when the not working equals not getting paid. Nor is it that great when you already schlep out of bed early to get to work or find out that you miss the best part of morning TV. In other words, great.

With the world going to a place beyond hell in a handbasket, it appears that our Senate has decided to spend an entire week discussing the benefits of marriage.

"Four committees are expected to hold hearings over the next two weeks, beginning Wednesday with a Health subcommittee's discussion on 'Healthy Marriage: What is it and why should we promote it?'"

No word on how many of those Senators were ever discovered diddling an intern. It also looks like everyone's favorite creepy bigot, Rick Santorum is involved. Quelle surprise.

Hey, has anyone found those WMD's yet?

Somewhere in me there's an essay to be written about how I think the problem isn't necessarily that there's not enough emphasis in marriage in our society, but too much, but I'll save that for another time (think about it- you hear so much about how you should get married that most people wind up getting married just because they're supposed to. Maybe the rate of divorce isn't because people aren't taking marriage seriously but because they wound up marrying the wrong person). I do, however, want to say this: If congress really thinks it's that important for people to get married, maybe they should do what Government does best and help us single people out.

Like, say, if you find yourself over 30 and still single, the Government will:

-Make joining internet dating sites a tax-write off
-Create a Government-run matchmaking service.
-Subsidizing costs incurred of being single and looking.

For example, it'll work kind of like Unemployment. Every month us single folks get a check for a couple hundred bucks that we will then use to help defray the costs of things like drinks, clothes, and money for dates. After all, being single is kind of expensive- drinking all the misery away gets kind of pricey. Oh, and another thing the money could help with is having to constantly buy gifts for baby birthday parties when you're only one person and everyone else at the party is bringing one present but on two people's salaries.

Damnit, I think I'm going start a campaign. Singles of the World, unite!

Checking my spam-mail folder, I wonder this: is there really a big market for people looking for "Bedwetting Women Online?"

Crikey, it's hot out there.

As of late April 2004, I think this Web site pretty much sums up the 2004 election better than anything:

John Kerry is a Douchebag But I'm Voting For Him Anyway

Forget that rant that I posted earlier about a friend bailing on me on going to Napa. I corralled him into going today. Sadly, I was a bit underwhelmed. It's a sad day when an entire day of drinking and smoking still makes me feel kind of blah.

Anyhow, here's one more observation for the weekend before I take off to not really posting much during the week (I'm back to the crazy temp job this week, which means data entry all day and sore shoulders all night).

-If at some point in your life you are a heroin junkie and you and your heroin junkie friend are shopping at Safeway, please don't wear short sleeve shorts. Even if it is in the '80's. Look, it's great that you're no longer on smack and you have a right to be proud of it, but the rest of us do not need to see the entire length of your arms covered with track marks.

Iyick.

If I wanted to see that, I'd rent "Requiem for a Dream." As dreary as that movie is, at least Jennifer Connelly has teeth.

It's Mumia's fiftieth birthday today. Happy Birthday big guy. And as expected, it being his birthday means that it's a veritable Mumiapalooza here in the Mission. We got your protests, we got your rallies, we got your marches, and we got your Mumia Abu Jamaal Film Festival. How exciting!

I actually walked past part of Rally #1 today on my way to Safeway. Now, first of all, let me just say that if you're middle aged, have big breasts, and have never worn a bra in your life, for God's sake, please, put something on that'll hold those puppies up. For God's sake, think of the children.

Anyways, the rally was what you expected- twenty or so freaks handing out flyers and listening to various speakers yabber away on a bullhorn. Unfortunately, do to my tight schedule of errand running, I was not able to check out the march, the next rally, and the Film Festival.

All of which raises a question- who is the biggest loser:

-Somebody who spends all day and all weekend attending rallies and marches for everyone's favorite "political prisoner."

or

-Somebody who spent all day drinking beer and watching the NFL draft

And what the hell, how about somebody who spent all day checking the "Real World/Road Rules Inferno" message boards to catch up on what they missed out on.

I think we all know the correct answer isn't C. If I'm going to be a loser, I'm going to be a loser in private.

No, wait, I take that back. I did manage to shut the fuck up somebody on Craig's List whose been posting anti-semitic rantings for the past couple of days. That smell you're smelling is the smell of me burning his ass online. What can I say, I'm good…..

Met up with some people at a local restaurant tonight and saw a guy wearing a 70's styled "Kiss Me I'm Irish" t-shirt and a John Deer trucker hat (worn sideways, of course). All I could think of was, "dude, you are soooo ironic." Man, I wish I could be that cool.

Wish brings me to this awesome little blurb I read on Wonkette, the tres hip political/gossip site about the appearance of Bush/Cheney '04 trucker hats being sold on the Bush/Cheney Web site:

"But what happens when the people who are wearing it ironically run into the people who are wearing it earnestly? Does it tear a hole in the parody-sincerity conitnuum? Will Ashton Kutcher suddenly not have been born?

Please, think of the children."

Last night I get a hold of a friend who I haven't seen in awhile. We talked earlier in the week about maybe doing something and he told me to call him on Friday to make plans to do something. When I call him, he's half drunk but immediately asks me whether I wanted to go to Napa today for some wine tasting and then head from there to a party. He also mentioned that it'll probably be one of those things that you don't come back from that night and that we'll probably be crashing somewhere else due to all the varieties of partying that will be involved.

So, of course, I said "hell yeah, I'm in." I need an adventure, any kind of adventure, especially an adventure that involves getting out of the city for a day or two and an all day trip to Napa and places elsewhere is exactly what the doctor ordered. With visions of sun drenched drunken mayhem dancing before my eyes, I almost skip to the video store to pick up a movie, knowing that I should get some sleep for the day's festivities. I am, as they say, stoked (I didn't wind up seeing the movie, but you'll hear more about that later). Especially as I hate to admit to this, but I have lived in Northern California for God knows how long and I have yet to do the Napa wine tasting thing.

It's 9 o'clock in the morning, the time I'm supposed to call him to check in (have to get moving early for an entire day of wine-tasting and BBQ'ing) and get no answer. Leave a message. Wait around for another couple of hours, not doing much of anything, not even showering, because my guess is that any second, any minute, I'll be getting that phone call saying "saddle up."

No call.

I finally call him at 11, two hours after I left my message. My friend answers the phone with kind of a surprised tone to his voice, you know, like he was surprised that I've called him twice already. He asks me what's up and what I've been up to, this despite the fact we've talked twice this past week. Or that last night he asked me if I wanted to go to Napa with him and a bunch of friends. We talk a bit, go through the "what are you doing this weekend" routine, as if we hadn't already talked about it and after a couple of minutes I finally bring up the reason for my calling. Trying to sound a bit on the nice side yet obviously hiding my displeasure I ask about Napa. "Oh," he says, "I decided not to do it but I might go to this BBQ but it's only for a couple of hours this afternoon. What are you doing tonight? We should get together and hang?"

And like that, visions of sun kissed drunken mayhem vanished before my eyes. And like that, an entire weekend worth of plans are shot to hell.

Mother fucking d'oh.

The Michael Jackson "South Park" episode- Brilliant!

So yeah, color me one of those people who is totally gobsmacked by Smirkboy's rise in the polls after our countries past couple of week's. Jesus criminy folks, how could someone has been shown to have screwed up so many things still have high popularity ratings? Can't someone get blown in that office so people will be outraged? And all of this after his press conference last week. I guess there are some people out there who feel comforted in the fact that the president goes in front of the press and sounds like a kid trying to give an oral report on a book he never read, but I'm not one of them. I read the damn book.

Oh wait, I forgot. He wasn't inarticulate, he was "sincere" and "determined" and, umm "competent" (which is a great quality to look for in a President). Oh yeah, and his inability to sound like he even had an understanding of the English language is his being a "plain-talker." Which, I guess is appealing to the average voter out there. On the other hand, this is a country in which not only is Omorosa from "The Apprentice" now getting commercial deals, but she's being dropped from some of them because people are calling up to complain and are threatening a boycott. No WMD's, no biggie. Omorosa making commercials, "Battle Stations!" And speaking of reality shows, if all of the countries where characters on "Survivor," how long before America would get voted off the island?

Considering how well the President did after his press conference and how well I'm not doing in job interviews, I have decided to follow the President's example and do my interviews George Bush style. No more worrying about things like trying to answer the question. Or trying to come up with coherent sentences that have a beginning, a middle, and an end. And correct grammar? What-ever.

So, from now on, instead of trying to do a good job answering the questions, I will instead, just keep on saying these things:

-I am a freedom lover
-All the people who have either laid me off or let me go from a job are "evil doers"
-If anybody says something bad about my job performance, they are only appeasing the evil-doers
-To wonder why I seem to be unemployed a lot is to dishonor all the other chronically unemployed people out there

And most importantly,
-I want this job because God told me I did.

See, I figure if I just somehow say one or two of these talking points into every answer I give during an interview, I too can can be seen as "steady," "determined" and "competent." And I too can amble into a job, just like our President.

Question: back before the internet, what did one do when they had nothing to do at work? Read a book? File? Tiddlywinks?

How did people survive back then?

Today at the temp job I'd say I that in the seven hours I was work, I actually did something for about an hour and a half of it. No, not because I was slacking but because there was absolutely nothing to do. I was so bored I ran out of Web sites to read by 11. And yeah, I managed to squeek by through clicking on Slate every ten minutes or my e-mail. I even had to check out Craig's List Rants & Raves, the crack of Web surfing. And all I could think about was that no matter how bored I was, at least I could surf the Web.

I saw this on TV this morning:

Fox News had a story about the mess in the Middle East, the Israel/Palestinian mess not the Iraqi mess. The story was about how Hamas won't announce who their new leader is, a good idea considering that being the Hamas leader has turned into the Spinal Tap drummer of terrorists. The reporter of the story, a tall willowy young blonde who I'm sure was hired for her journalistic ability, announced that she was determined to discover who the new leader was. As she said that, the footage shown on TV was of her, doing the Ashleigh Banfield thing and striding around the area all decked out in a head-scarf. To fit in and show respect, of course.

Now, I found this really funny. Because you have to admire a tall, willowy blonde trying to be inconspicuous and walking around Gaza asking who the new leader of Hamas is. You know, like they'd tell her.

Man, I would have loved to have seen the footage of her asking. Striding up and seeing the first terrorist looking dude and asking them "excuse me, can you tell me who your new leader is?" Or maybe she acted all dumb and just simply said "take me to your leader." Maybe she found some gawky thirteen year old Palestinian kid and tried to sweet talk them, telling him he'd take her scarf off if he told her. Or maybe she just hung out in the marketplace trying to fit in and eavesdrop.

And if they did tell her, how long before that person would be blown up?

Part of my nasty, nasty little cold involves the stuffing of my ears. I am totally deaf. You know how when you're watching a movie or TV show and they want to be all arty and dramatic so they take out all the incidental sound and all you hear is maybe the background noise and a lot of silence? Like the Buffy episode "The Body?" That's how my past couple of days have been. Like one long, dramatic episode.

All day I'm straining to hear things at the Temp job, which is kind of fun considering that the job is basically hearing people give you instructions and then passing the instructions onto other people. I have to double-check everything I hear to make sure I hear I heard it right without sounding like an idiot. And I totally screwed up and was talking about someone at work behind they're back without noticing they were right behind my back.

Oops.

Because I have no idea how loud everything is, I'm worried about talking too loudly so I'm I find myself talking to quietly. Hardly anybody can hear what I'm saying and I can't tell. Or, maybe they can tell and I just can't hear them say "huh?" I also find myself grinning like an idiot when I think people are making a joke. I have no idea if it is a joke, but better safe than sorry. I also feel kind of bad for my brand-new neighbor because I'm doing the old lady thing and have my TV turned up way too loud at home. I have no idea how loud it is.

Speaking of talking behind somebody's back, my temp agency called my supervisor today to check up on me. Good thing I sit right next to him, less than about ten feet from his computer. I was there when they called. That I could hear. After a few seconds into the conversation, I had to leave. I'm pretty sure nothing bad was said or anything that I didn't want to hear, it's just a little on the awkward side to be hearing a conversation totally about you when you're right there.

Or maybe I'm just really paranoid these days.

Sorry, I got nothing. I'm sick as a dog. Whatever that means. Are dogs known as being really sick or is it a ball licking thing?

You know what my favorite part of being sick is? When you wake up in the morning and within the first couple of minutes of waking up, you do inventory to check how you feel. All the while saying a little prayer that finally, the damn bug is gone daddy gone.

Oh please, let it be gone tomorrow.

There's a little game going on out there in the Blogosphere in which one picks the nearest book, turns to page 23, looks for the fifth sentence and posts it. It's kind of cool because we bloggers are such a literate set. It's amazing how many people out there just happen to have something like 'The Great Gatsby" or "Gravity's Rainbow." handy.

With that in mind, here's my addition to the game:

"After the interception, Rutigliano put his arms around Sipe and said, "Brian, I love you."

The Story of the Cleveland Browns, by Richard Rambeck.

Here's an interesting game to play: Which recent news item really is the sign of the apocalypse?

-Nicole Richie Marrying Justin Guarini?

-The fact that Madonna won't perform on Friday night's because it's Shabbat and she's now Jewish?

-and from the same article....so is Britney? (funny, she doesn't look Jewish).

-The 27 year old woman on MTV's "I Want a Famous Face" (a show that definately proves we've entered height of Roman Empire decadence) who got a breast and face job in order to achieve fame and fortune as a Britney Spears impersonator?

-The "Nick and Jessica Variety Hour?"

-That the "Nick and Jessica Variety Hour" got good ratings

-That there is a "Nick and Jessica?"

We're doomed, people, we're doomed.

With a nod to Andrew Sullivan, Pretentionous Alert.

From a critical essay about "The Daily Show" (!) on the New Republic Web site:

"Laughter is the essence of individuality. Sobs sound alike, so do moans of pleasure and pain, so do terrified screams; but each person has his or her own laugh. A horror of individuation is why Stalin asked a group of Polish communists how Comrade Z was, and when they stared at the ground in silence, he burst into laughter because he and they knew that he had had Comrade Z killed a few days before; it is why the Uruguayan junta called the prison where it tortured and killed suspected leftists Libertad--those were instances of politics pursuing and catching laughter, and then having the Last--the eschatologically last--Laugh. Politics hates the naked unbridled ego that laughter sets free; it hates it with the intensity with which laughter heaps its furies on the naked unbridled ego that hides behind the highflown sentiments of politics."

Just a note to all you editors out there, if someone is writing a review on a show on Comedy Central and mentions Stalin, "Uruguayan Junta's" and "Libertad", it is pretentious. Way pretentious.

I bring you back to the earlier posting, the one about our Department of Justice hiring people to basically do nothing but surf porn all day. As interesting as the story is, it still doesn't get to the heart of the matter. To whit, how does one get the job and what do they do all do?

Who is hired to surf porn? It being John Ashcroft's baby, I'm guessing it's Born Again types. You wouldn’t want to hire somebody who gets off on it and as we all know, those who love Jay-sus never, ever, get off on porn. But would that make sense to have them doing the surfing? Wouldn't you want somebody who actually knows how to surf for it? I mean, if you're going to hire somebody to surf, say, Arabic newspapers to discern what's going on in the Arabic world, wouldn't you want somebody who knows there way around the Arabic World? What would happen if the task for the day was to surf for facial shots? Would a Born Again type even know what a facial shot is? And if so, does this mean that the DOJ is then hiring a bunch of people who are porn-surfing-addicts? And how does one put that one their resume?

And do they just go in, surf and see what comes up or is there assigned tasks for the week? Like one week it's "amateur anal" and the next week it's "big busty blondes?" And who makes the call? Ashcroft? Does each "agent" have a speciality? Like one is The Special Agent on Bestiality and another is the Special Agent for Lesbian Hard-Core? Who surfs the gay porn? Ashcroft? Do they get corporate cards so they can log into every porn site to actually check the porn? And do they have POP-Up protectors to make sure they don't spend all their time clicking off POP-Up ads? How do they know the agent's not actually surfing for porn? Most companies have Porn firewalls to keep their employees from checking out porn, but if your job is to check out porn there's no Porn firewalls so how would they know that the Bestiality Guy wants to check out Hot Coed's?

Can anyone fill me in on this?

Gotta give my props out to Janet Jackson for doing a devastating impression of everyone's favorite closeted lesbian National Security Advisor, the whiter than Colin Powell, Condi Rice last night on SNL. You know you're in trouble as a public figure when Janet Jackson totally nails you in a skit. Seriously, it was really good. And it's amazing how just one skit on SNL and one rant on the "Daily Show" about her testimony summed up the whole thing better than hours and hours of yelling pundit-heads on TV did.

Anyways, in a story about the infamous PDB (yeah, you know me), that Bush got while in the midst of his thirty-day vacation, there comes this line: "The officials would not describe Bush's reaction to the memo -- calling it confidential --.

Umm, now why would the President's reaction be considered "condidential?" Is it such a breach of National Security if they said he was "alarmed"? Is it really too much of an attack on Executive Privilege to know that the President's reaction was that of "hmmmm, interesting?" Seriously. All of which makes you wonder that, like most of Smirkboy's stonewalling, that his reaction really was that of "that's great, but how did the Rangers do today?" Or "Who is Al Queda, again? Isn't he that oilman that gave me a couple thousand dollars in campaign contributions?" Or, hell, even, "Dick, can you explain this to me?"

And while I do think it's unfair to blame the Bushies for 9/11 and that even if Bush wasn't napping through the entire month of August, I don't think the thing could have been stopped, I do have to say I'm thoroughly enjoying the hullaballoo. As I've said before, anything that wipes the smirk off his face is okay by me.

I went to the California Government building today to pick up my tax forms and as I walked in, I saw a cool head shot of Arnold Schwarzaneggar. I realized that it wasn't a head shot but the shot announcing him as the Governor of the State. And then it hit me- Arnold Schwarzaneggar is our governor.

It's one thing to see him on TV playing our Governor because it's like he's playing a role and that it's not reality, but to see him there in the Government Office as our Governor brought it all to reality.

Here's the even crazier thing about it- so far he hasn't done that bad of a job. Actually, he's probably done a much better job than Davis would have done. Go figure.

I think I found the perfect job:

"Administration wages war on pornography-Obscenity: For the first time in 10 years, the U.S. government is spending millions to file charges across the country.
Lam Nguyen's job is to sit for hours in a chilly, quiet room devoid of any color but gray and look at pornography. This job, which Nguyen does earnestly from 9 to 5, surrounded by a half-dozen other "computer forensic specialists" like him, has become the focal point of the Justice Department's operation to rid the world of porn."

I'd hate to be the one who has to clean the office after work.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and since these are desperate times, I'm going to utilize the most desperate measure there is- the Costanza Ploy. Basically, the idea that to change one's luck, one needs to do the exact opposite of what they would normally do.

Here's how it will apply for my job search

-I will no longer dress up for interviews. I'm actually wearing nice suits to interviews now (thanks mom). No longer. I'm picturing something in jeans and t-shirts. Shaving will depend on my mood.

-I will no longer show up early for interviews. Instead, I will show up ten minutes late for every interview I go on. It shouldn't really matter anyways as most people are ten minutes late to interview me.

-I will tell the complete honesty in everything. If there's something I haven't done, instead of spinning it in such a way that it sounds like I've done it, I'll just say "nope, never done it." If they bring up some task that either doesn't sound particularly fun or something that I know I don't like to do, I will just say "nope, doesn't interest me at all. I hate accounting." Or something like "yeah, I'm not very good at accounting. In fact, I hate doing it so much I usually wait until the end of the month to do it and once a printer refused to print out anything for the company because I was so late on the PO's." And if they ask what kind of boss I don't like, I will tell them "psycho, manic women who criticize everything I did up to how I shuffled papers and eavesdrop on my conversations."

-Thank you notes. Eh, screw 'em. They haven't worked yet and I somehow suspect a few times the job went to somebody who didn't send one out.

-And finally and most importantly, I will act like I don't care. I will show no enthusiasm, will not say how exciting something sounds. Will not even look like I really want to be there. And I will not constantly call HR people about jobs that I've applied for and be persistent about it. Just think about it, would Steve McQueen act like he was excited about a job? Would he tell the interviewer that "wow, that sounds really great?" Would he call up every couple of days to check in? No, he wouldn't. And what's good for Steve McQueen is good for me. Because Steve McQueen is the Man.

I should be getting a job soon.

Hey, so according to some online quiz, if I were a New York Times columnist, I'd be Maureen Dowd:


You are Maureen Dowd! You like to give people silly
nicknames and write in really short, non
sequitur paragraphs. You're the most playful of
the columnists and a rock-ribbed liberal, but
are often accused of being too flamboyant and
frivolous. You tend to focus on style over
substance, personality over politics. But your
heart is in the right place. Plus, you are a
total fox.



Woo-hoo.

Now, if only I could find an online quiz that determines what member of the McLaughlin Group I'd be.

(and that's a joke that'll be funny to maybe one of you out there. Then again, only one of you is actually reading this these days, so I hope you get a kick out of it).

The office where I'm working is a small office above a bar somewhere in the financial district. Even though it's in a heavily trafficked area the door into the office building is unlocked. There's a little coffee nook as part of the building and my guess is that the door is unlocked because they figure that with someone in the coffee nook all day, the building's a lot safer than other buildings (because, of course, if somebody was going to rob the place during the day, they'd be all dressed up in robber outfits and thus easily spotted by the coffee worker). To get in, all you have to do is basically press a button by the side of the coffee nook and the door swings wide open.

Today I sneak out around 5:15 to go across the street to make a phone call (by the way, dear HR people- don't get snippy if somebody calls about a job already been filled. It's not my fault that you haven't taken down the posting in the two and a half weeks that the job's been filled). I cross the street and press the button and nothing. No door opening, nothing.

So I press the button a few more times, hoping that it'll finally open sesame. And yeah, like you'd do anything differently. Still nothing. Luckily, there's about four buttons on the side of the door, buzzers which I'm guessing buzzes the various receptionists in the building to let you in. I start buzzing those buzzers, feeling a bit like all those lame-asses who buzz my apartment because they either left their keys at home or are on a bootie call. Still nothing.

I keep on trying, buzzing each buzzer for a few quick jabs and then switching it up by going the longer buzz route. I try the buzzer that I'm pretty sure is to the office I'm working at and hold that for a lone time. Nothing. I try all the other offices. Nothing.

I am a Temp. I am a Temp with a higher level of responsibility than most Temps. I am a Temp who is working in an office they like at a job that they like and in a job that carries with it an outside chance of turning into a permanent gig and so wants to make a good impression. I am also a Temp who has been locked out of their office for over ten minutes and now has to call somebody to let them in.

I give up and trudge back across the street to head to the pay phone, swearing the whole time that as soon as I get a job, I'm finally joining the rest of the world and get a cell phone. As I walk across the street, I realize I don't have the company's phone number on me. I could call the Temp Agency, but it's not exactly something I want to admit to the Temp Agency that can make decisions about whether or not they want to send me on more assignments. I decide to call 411 when I get to the phone, but am relieved to find that the phone book is actually still by the payphone.

I find the number and dial. No answer. The receptionist has, of course, gone home. But wait. There's an office directory on the voice-mail system so if I can just punch in somebody's last name, I could reach somebody. Which would be great except I've only been there three days and don't know anybody's last name.

With no other option I realize I have to call the Temp Agency. Trying to summon up whatever shred of dignity I feel that I have left (ie, none), I tell them I'm locked out and can't reach anyone. The lady at the Temp Agency acts like it's not one of the craziest phone calls she's ever gotten and tells me to hold on. A couple of minutes later she comes back and tells me she reached somebody and that my supervisor is "laughing his head off."

Fifteen minutes after trying to get back into the office, the supervisor comes down and gets me, filling me in on all the hilarity that ensued after I disappeared. Turns out the receptionist is the one who locks the door when she leaves and she had to leave early today because she was preparing for a Seder (happy Pesach, everyone). Turns out too that they heard the buzzer ring but that nobody responds to the buzzer because after five, the entranceway is full of smokers from the bar who constantly buzz the buzzer by accident. Turns out too that they figured out it was me when the buzzer buzzed for like the fifth time and they realized that I had been gone for awhile. Naturally, the exact moment I went into the Embarcadero to make the call was the exact moment somebody came down to get me. And it turns out that they ran to get my initial phone call but just missed me before voice-mail kicked in.

Just my luck.

Oh, to add to the fun, I was so flummoxed by my misadventures that I accidentally got onto the wrong BART train and wound up in Oakland.

And sometimes I wonder why I drink so much….

One of the new guys who moved into my apartment complex subscribes to ESPN the Magazine. You know how I know? Because it's been sitting in the front hallway for the past six days, unclaimed, unchained, and unloved. It's the baseball issue too.

So here's the question- what's the correct amount of time to wait on an unclaimed magazine before swiping it? Two days? Three days? Four?

Maybe I should just swipe it for the night and return it the next day. He'll be none the wiser. I just gotta make sure I don't use it for bathroom material.

I've been reading that the White House is swearing that they'll find a way of "punishing" those responsible for the horrific mob attack in Fallaju the other day. I'm actually kind of curious as to what they plan to do as the whole thing brings up one of the problems we are facing in our Brave New World. The problem is basically this- it's really hard to be an Empire these days. After all, you can't really do what Empires used to be able to do.

In the good old days, if an Empire ran into something like what happened in Falluja, they'd know what to do. They'd just lay siege to the city, smash it into bits, and then do something horrible to all of the citizens of the city. Not the perpetrators, not the leaders, everyone. They'd do something really ingenious, like killing all the males, or chopping off everyone's hands, or just burning everything down, selling the townsfolk's into slavery and then planting salt into the ground to make sure nobody could live there for years and years and years. The idea was to set an example to everyone so that they'd no not to mess with the Empire.

This was your basic standard operating procedure for most of your major Empires- your Huns and your Mayans and your Spaniards. And most importantly, it was what the Romans did, and if you're going to be an Empire, you might as well learn from the best when it comes to being an Empire. The Romans basically wrote the book on it. They were ripe miserable bastards when they had to be (crucifixion, anyone?) but they were one hell of an Empire. They know how to take care of business.

But you can't do that today. No sirree Bob. We got morals these days, and scruples. Not to mention 24 hour news channels that would broadcast it to the entire world. Now, I'm sure that somewhere in the bowels of the White House some Neo-Cons are arguing to screw it with that whole morality thing, with Dick Cheney leading the way. And I'm sure that if they did it, all the blabbering idiots on FOX and on the radio would then go into apoplectic fury defending the White House, accusing those people who point out that cutting the ears of all the townsfolks as immoral as terrorist appeasars or, even worse, French sympathizers. But that kind of thing just can't happen today. And while we are much better off for it, it does make being an Empire a tad more difficult than it was in the Good Ole Days.