Tuesday, November 30, 2004

And we're back….

There's nothing quite like that moment where after twenty hours of travelling you get home and put down your luggage. It's that mixture of sheer exhaustion mixed with excitement and relief in being home. Part of you is completely wiped-out from all the travelling and not having slept in a day, but you're also completely wired because you're finally home and don't have to sit in a completely uncomfortable seat for hours upon hours. Not to mention being totally frazzled because you quickly realize that you're still wearing clothes that you were wearing halfway around the world. Then there's the question of what to do? Unpack? Check messages? Check e-mail? Watch ESPN? Sleep? Shower?

Naturally, I checked e-mail.

Anyways, was going to do some whining here about either the usual stuff (lame-ass airlines, lame-ass fliers, lame-ass security rules) and not so usual stuff (friends who've been told a bunch of times where you are and what you're doing yet still call while you're away wondering where you are and if you're up for doing something). But I won't. Suffice it to say that while I had a great time, it's nice to be home. Hell, it's nice to no longer have to pretend I speak Spanish, although it became such a normal thing that I stopped myself from saying "ola!" and "gracias" at the Chinese laundry I give my clothes too.
And we're back….

There's nothing quite like that moment where after twenty hours of travelling you get home and put down your luggage. It's that mixture of sheer exhaustion mixed with excitement and relief in being home. Part of you is completely wiped-out from all the travelling and not having slept in a day, but you're also completely wired because you're finally home and don't have to sit in a completely uncomfortable seat for hours upon hours. Not to mention being totally frazzled because you quickly realize that you're still wearing clothes that you were wearing halfway around the world. Then there's the question of what to do? Unpack? Check messages? Check e-mail? Watch ESPN? Sleep? Shower?

Naturally, I checked e-mail.

Anyways, was going to do some whining here about either the usual stuff (lame-ass airlines, lame-ass fliers, lame-ass security rules) and not so usual stuff (friends who've been told a bunch of times where you are and what you're doing yet still call while you're away wondering where you are and if you're up for doing something). But I won't. Suffice it to say that while I had a great time, it's nice to be home. Hell, it's nice to no longer have to pretend I speak Spanish, although it became such a normal thing that I stopped myself from saying "ola!" and "gracias" at the Chinese laundry I give my clothes too.
And we're back….

There's nothing quite like that moment where after twenty hours of travelling you get home and put down your luggage. It's that mixture of sheer exhaustion mixed with excitement and relief in being home. Part of you is completely wiped-out from all the travelling and not having slept in a day, but you're also completely wired because you're finally home and don't have to sit in a completely uncomfortable seat for hours upon hours. Not to mention being totally frazzled because you quickly realize that you're still wearing clothes that you were wearing halfway around the world. Then there's the question of what to do? Unpack? Check messages? Check e-mail? Watch ESPN? Sleep? Shower?

Naturally, I checked e-mail.

Anyways, was going to do some whining here about either the usual stuff (lame-ass airlines, lame-ass fliers, lame-ass security rules) and not so usual stuff (friends who've been told a bunch of times where you are and what you're doing yet still call while you're away wondering where you are and if you're up for doing something). But I won't. Suffice it to say that while I had a great time, it's nice to be home. Hell, it's nice to no longer have to pretend I speak Spanish, although it became such a normal thing that I stopped myself from saying "ola!" and "gracias" at the Chinese laundry I give my clothes too.

Saturday, November 27, 2004

-One of the things that makes typing on international computers so hard is that even the shortcut commands are different. For instance, ctr n on the PC is not new screen on Explorer, but command U is because U I guess is whatever the hell Spanish word is for new screen
-Here´s a difference between our last two President´s: Clinton came here during his 2nd term and was treated like a rock star. During one of his rides through Santiago, he stopped off at a corner store and bought a coke. The place was so thrilled, they named the place ¨Clinton´s Corner¨or something like that. Bush came here, pissed everyone off, and was described by most columnists as ¨more swaggering as usual¨due to the re-election. Once again, thank you, Red States.
-Went to shabbat lunch today for the pre-wedding festivities and the discussion turned, as always, to karoake. After a couple of moments where prayer songs were sung pretty much by memory by the religious folks, I started to think that while I used to know lots of songs off the top of my head, I don´t know that many anymore, except for maybe P.E.´s ¨Fight the Power¨(not a great song for either karoake or services) and I started to think what a shame that is. I knew some girl once who knew the entire lyrics to the Humpty Dance by memory and if you got her drunk enough, she´d sing it to you. I wish I could sing that song by memory. Wouldn´t that be a great song to sing at Shabbat services?
-Had dinner tonight at some revolving roof Italian restaurant, complete with piano player playing tortured renditions of Ace of Bass and Duran Duran´s ¨Ordinary World¨ It was awesome.
You know how all the hippie chicks are into anything Peruvian because they´re all supposedly native and poor and oppressed? What do Peruvian hippie chicks wear?

My name is Humpty, pronounced with a Umpty.
Yo ladies, oh how I like to hump thee.
And all the rappers in the top ten--please allow me to bump thee.
I'm steppin' tall, y'all,
and just like Humpty Dumpty
you're gonna fall when the stereos pump me.
I like to rhyme,
I like my beats funky,
I'm spunky. I like my oatmeal lumpy.
I'm sick wit dis, straight gangsta mack
but sometimes I get ridiculous
I'll eat up all your crackers and your licorice
hey yo fat girl, c'mere--are ya ticklish?

Friday, November 26, 2004

Oh yeah, forgot this gem: was walking around Santiago today and stumbled through this podunk shopping mall that pops up every block or so. Walk around a corner, past the Tarot card readers, and see someone who does reflexology for 5,000 pesos (about $9 bucks). So I did it. Got myself an hour long foot massage, which was actually almost too long but I think the result of the lady (Geraldine, by the way, and yes, she looked like someone who would be giving foot massages in some run-down shopping center) having either no other customers or she liked me. While the massage was certainly good, it was well worth it just for one of those random type experiences in which I´m basically lying in this run-down booth that was about ten years away from it´s last paint job, a table that needed to be left out on the street, and sheets that were probably bought in the 80´s listening to the soothing sounds of Whitesnake for all of an hour while my feet are being rubbed. And yes, it sounds way better than I just described it.

Best 9000 pesos I ever spent
Let´s get to the quick stuff as that´s all I have time for:

-Just took a ride with possibly the worst cab driver in both Hemispheres. He didn´t know his way around, couldn´t read maps, drove about ten miles-per-hour less than every car on the road, and was quite possibly half-deaf. You know it´s bad when I, who have been in this city for all of three days, is giving him directions. In really bad Spanish.
-Thanks to the five-star luxury hotel´s cable selection featuring subtitled Skinemax, I now know most Spanish terms for Lesbian sex acts.
-Allow me to give myself some dap on this, but I drive maybe once a year, at the most. And that driving usually consists of highways. So far, I´ve driven around two South American cities, finding the way each time, dodging busses, and even navigating several dreaded round-abouts. Yeah me.
-Both ESPN and Fox Sports are the international sports versions, meaning it´s all soccer (futbol) all the time, especially as it´s the European Championship season. All the American sports, mainly basketball and football are afterthoughts on the shows, the thing they tag on in the last ten or fifteen minutes of SportsCenter when they´ve run out of soccer highlights. It´s kind of refreshing, actually, in that it shows just how much all those stories about ¨the globalization¨of American sports are a crock. Nobody cares. Or, they do up until the moment Arsenal takes on AC Milan and buh-bye Warriors/Sonics game highlights.
-My Thanksgiving started off with me waking up in my hotel room overlooking the ocean followed by breakfast at the hotel restaurant, also overlooking the ocean. That was followed by a jaunt to Valporiso- an incredibly beautiful and funky town largely consisting of narrow streets up until the hills- and lunch on a restaurant on the edge of a cliff also overlooking the ocean. That was followed by a drive back to Santiago and then a birthday party at a country club in the hills. After that came a late night dinner at a five-star New Zealand restaurant and wine then drinks at some yuppie bar around the corner from the restaurant. Stumbled home at three in the morning to wake up to a major hangover. Not bad if you ask me

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

So I´m in Vista Del Mar, some town near Valporiso on the coast of Chile that is abso'fucking'lutely beautiful. The hotel we´re staying is on the cliff, overlooking the beach. My hotel room just might be the nicest hotel room I´ve ever stayed in, with a deck overlooking both the pool and the Ocean. It´s so nice that I want to buy a pack of cigarettes to smoke on the deck only because isn´t that the point of having a deck over the ocean? While Valporiso is kind of the snooty neighbor next door, Vista Del Mar (or is it Villa Del Mar?) is the rowdy one. It´s part beach community, part resort, part third-worldy. In other words, it´s great.

I´m here with my dad, though, which brings up one of hte problems in travelling with family as opposed to friends. It´s 11 o´clock, I´ve drank a pisco sour and half a bottle of wine and I have nowhere to go. The hotel is about a half-an-hour walk to Vista Del Mar and it´s way too much of a hike to do it. So, it´s pretty much me and the mini-bar for the rest of the night, out on the deck drinking and listening to Radiohead all night. Pretty cool, but not exactly raging.

Where was I?

Dunno. Have a bunch more to say, but don´t feel like getting into it now as I´m getting charged by the minute. Tomorrow, hopefully massages, body surfing, and fish tacos by the beach. Such is life.


On Sunday night, I spent most of the late hours checking my fantasy football sites and watching the Sunday Night Football game til late in the morning (Chile is five hours ahead of SF- oh, and this computer is even more messed up then the last one so forgive the typos. Oh, an´d I´m messed up too.) Anyways, I´m all the way south of the border and it´s like three in the morning and I´m cursing out the Packers game. AFter losing Sunday´s game, I´ve been sneaking away to the computer to figure out Ahman Green´s status and too try and snag a back-up running back. All of this is a sign that:

-Fantasy football is obsessively bad
-Modern technology is not a good thing
-I should have traded Javon Walker for Reuben Droughans several weeks ago.

Your choice.....

Sunday, November 21, 2004

Ola from Santiago.

Pardon if this entry is a little rambling and sloppy but this day started at 11 AM Saturday morning, which is when I left my apartment. Other than a bit of a sleep on the flight (I landed 9:30 AM local time, which is 4:30 SF time) I haven´t slept since Friday night. Throw in jet lag, lots of BBQ, way too much whiskey sours (sister-in-laws´ family likes to have a good time- we like people who like to have a good time) and the fact I´m typing this on a computer with an international keyboard that, among other things, has the ç where the “enter” button should be and you have a rambling and sloppy blog entry. And yes, I´m on the computer now- my fantasy football teams are right now 1-1 with one team rallying, thanks for asking).

I have to say that even though I love travelling and should have been really excited about spending ten days in Chile largely through the largesse of the parents, I wasn´t acting all that excited about this trip. I would have been, but work´s been so crazy I haven´t had the luxury of being excited. It´s hard being exicted about something happening in the future when you´re just trying to make it through the day. I knew at some point it would hit and that somewhere along the trip the reality of it all would hit me and it did- pretty much on the flight over as I looked out of the window and saw the Andes below me. With the new Perfect Circle disc playing on the disc-man (my new fave CD), I did nothing for the last half an hour of the flight but stare out the window. It reminded me of when I flew to Europe oh so many years ago and spent the last hour or so doing nothing but staring at the window as we flew over the Mediterrean and the Aegean. Al I could think of was ¨woah-that´s the fucking Mediterrean down there.¨ Now I´m pretty excited. Ever since I´ve landed, every five minutes or so this voice comes to me pretty much saying ¨dude, you´re in South Fucking America¨.

So far, Chile has been rather first-worldy. Santiago has that European vibe to it- a mixture of old and ultra-modern, funky architecture and wide-boulevards where everyone´s out walking (memo to San Francisco- boulevards. Look into it). It´s really pretty nice. In some ways, it´s not all that different from anything. Mom and I had faijita´s at what was pretty much a sports bar with the Packers/Texans game on the background. Our waiter was such the prototypical stoner dude, in fact, type that I kept on speaking English to him because I couldn´t believe that somebody who looked like that wasn´t an American.

As we drove around to the BBQ this afternoon, it was amazing how normal everything looked. Turn the corner of one development and it looked like the Hollywood Hills. Turn another corner and it looked like Mill Valley. Turn another and it looked like the Los Altos Hills. The BBQ was at this typical suburban home and was pretty much your typical BBQ- lots of chicken, beef, and pork. Throw in all the golf shirts people were wearing, the sandals, and Disneyland kiddie pool and it could have been any family BBQ in Los Altos. Except, for the most part, everyone spoke in Spanish. It´s like it´s been your average, normal day except somebody hit the SAP button so everything´s in Spanish. Well, there is one big difference- in the background everywhere are these jutting mountainous hills- the Andes. They´re sharper, craggier and bigger than anything I´m used to and they give everything kind of an “edge of the world” feel. There we were, watching all the grand-kids run around the front yard, with these huge hills behind them. And yes, as I sat there, all I could think was ¨dude, I´m in South fucking America.”

One mo´thing- the big APEC meeting is happening in Chile this week. Lots of diplomats running around. Not to mention world leaders, including our “President.” When the plane landed, we passed Air Force One sitting in the airport, like it was looking to make a fast get-away, probably from the rampaging protestors. And yes, there´s been protests everywhere. Nothing like flying into a foriegn city where everyone´s gathered to protest the actions of the country you live in. I was joking to my dad that we should all have t-shirts made up that said “Don´t Blame Me- I´m From a Blue State.” Apparently, Smirkboy caused a bit of an incident that has pissed off all the locals, but I´m sure you´ll never hear anything of it on the news.

And yes, it took only fifteen minutes into the BBQ before the political situation came out. I don´t know whether it was just me being defensive or whether there was something there but I swear everyone kind of gave me a scornful look. I just gave them this really pathetic look on my face. I do have to say, however, that one thing about travelling is that you are aware, probably as much as you ever have, that you are an American. Which is why I felt a little put off by being lectured on politics by people who lived in a country famous for it´s military dictatorships. Cough-Pinochet-cough.
And that´s it for now. Hopefully, I´ll tour more of the city tomorrow and head for Valporiso on Tuesday.

Friday, November 19, 2004

We're going offline for awhile, or at least infrequently posting for awhile. I'm heading off to Chile for my bro's wedding. Long story. It's kind of a weird thing this wedding- for thirty-six years of my life I've never had to say the words "sister-in-law." Now I do. I know, why post from all the way from the Southern Hemisphere (I've travelled all over the world but never down below the equator and yes I think that's kind of cool. And yes, I'm totally gonna check out which way the water goes when I flush) but as I'm a total e-mail addict, I'll probably be going online occasionally, if only to check on my fantasy football teams. Well, that and I'm staying with my mother and I figure the less time in the room, the better. I hate to say it to even if it's only my fourth month there, but after the past month or so, I could actually use a few days off.

And yes, some of you may be wondering what the hell I'm thinking going on vacation after all the bad things that have happened to me on jobs when I've gone on vacation. All I can say is I know. Luckily, I think the person covering for me is completely in over her head. Or so I hope. It is kind of a mean thing to wish, but I do kind of wish everything goes to hell in a handbasket while I'm gone.

We shall see.

Thursday, November 18, 2004

Man, work has been totally crazy and it's been totally crazy for awhile now. We're short handed and there's a lot of stuff that's due. And for various reasons, it all feels like it's been coming down on me as almost all of the big, just under million dollar marketing campaigns are coming down on my shoulders. The past couple of months have been like riding a tropical storm and all I've been able to do is bail as fast as I can.

And no, I'm not complaining, I'm just saying how I feel. It's hard to be totally up and stressed for going weeks at a time. Which is one of the things about project management type jobs- you have to be totally on all the time. It's part of the reason why I'm drinking three cups of coffee a day because I need to be wired in order to do the job. Even worse, everyone else at work is getting to that same point and everyone's all torn and frayed. Everyone's really nice and a great group of people, but whenever everyone's stressed out, people aren't so nice and aren't so great.

I've noticed too that every week goes the same. Monday morning I'm all fresh-faced and eager. I get up early, I make breakfast and lunch, get the cofee brewing, and make all my trains, planes and automobiles in plenty of time. I also try to dress to impress and feel fired up to do all my extra-ciricular activities, like this here blog. As the week goes on, I lose all the fresh-faced eagerness and it all falls apart. By friday, I'm getting up late, not making lunch or breakfast, don't get the coffee brewing, and barely make my connections. At work, I'm basically showing up in t-shirt and jeans and I'm way to burned out to do anything but lie in a fetal position on the couch, curled up against a bottle of wine. Which is why my blogging on Wednesdays or Thursdays has totally fallen off recently, I'm way too tired to write anything.

And no, I'm not complaining. I'm just looking forward to a little downtime. And lots and lots of sleep.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

I'm sitting at my cubicle today when my new manager came to my desk to talk to me. Even though she's a bit older and in a position of responsibility, there's still a bit of a rocker in her. What I mean is that she'll occasionally wear something that's, umm, slightly revealing.

Today when she came up to me, I turned around to face her and quickly noticed that- how shall I put it?- she looked very excited to see me. As friends used to put it, she could have cut glass with those things. This, of course, was problematic. She is my boss and she is in a position of responsibility. I have to do whatever I can do to not only impress her, but to give her the respect she should get (cough *brownose* cough). The one thing I could not do is to stare at the wrong place, which can be pretty damn difficult when her headlights were pretty much out and saying "howya doin'?" So I'm sitting there thinking to myself "don't stare…don't stare…don't stare" which kind of makes trying to impress the boss difficult in that it's hard to put coherent sentences together when you're doing everything possible to stare directly at her face. Plus, there's that whole bit where if you tell yourself not to think of something, you automatically can't but help think of something. My dad once told me that if somebody came up to you and said "don't think of a camel" you will, of course, do nothing but think of a camel the very act of trying not to think of one automatically makes you think of one. In other words, if you're telling yourself "don't think about the nipples, don't think about the nipples" you're gonna be thinking about the nipples.

Which brings us to the Wank of the Week. Blah, blah, blah, program director left the Castro…blah…blah…blah everyone's worried…blah blah blah…everyone loves the Castro. And everyone does. And yes the fact that the program director left after getting into it with the owners is kind of troubling. Or, more like, could be. Worthy of the "Les Miserables" treatment? Umm, no. And so we go to the tape:

THE CASTRO. Those two words reflect a neighborhood central to gay history – and an embattled present moment, when right-wing "family values" are once again claiming power. For San Franciscans, those two words also spark passion for the Castro Theatre, a prized movie palace seen by many as a quintessential example of what makes the city unique. While other cultural aspects of the neighborhood have been on the wane, and chain stores on the rise, the Castro has fostered an international reputation by remaining steadfast in its dedication to film as an art


Yeah, not that exciting, relatively, but you try writing after three glasses of sangria?
Forgot this story from awhile back. One other thing that happened after the kickball finals party is somebody unveiled a whole new form of trashing somebody's apartment- altering their TiVo. Yep, as we were all kicking back at that guys' house, somebody grabbed the remote and signed the guy up for a whole bunch of soap operas and Oprah.

That's cold. And kind of funny too.

Kind of reminds me of when I was a kid and one of my friends would occasionally have us over for drinks when the parents weren't around. His home was a kosher home so when we got drunk, we'd switch the silverware and plates on him so that the next day, his family would be eating with what they thought was the "non-dairy" silverware when in fact it was the "dairy" silverware. And yes, I do realize that I can go to hell for this, or at least would if it wasn't for the fact Jews don't believe in hell.

Monday, November 15, 2004

Saturday night I'm taking the bus to some party at a club. Now first off, the bus ride starts off with some crazy old cat-lady (no, I don't know if she actually had cats but she was definitely the type to have five or six of them) blabbering away about politics. With a full head of steam to her, she starts getting into gay marriage and the whole "God created men to be with women and women to be with men" argument, totally oblivious to the gay couple who were sitting right next to her. The little hipster girl next to me spoke up and the next thing you know, we got the gay rights debate going on the 22 Fillmore.

Anyways, after the crazy lady left, these four drunk ex-frat guys get on. The thing about them is that they were all wearing the same thing- untucked button-down shirts with jeans. And while the button down shirts were different, they were pretty much enough of the same style to give them that boy-band look. In other words, they were annoying as shit.
We get off the same stop and as I'm following them, hoping to hell that they're not going to the same party I was, this guy out of nowhere walks behind me and to nobody in particular, says out loud "hey, look, it's the untucked shirt gang."

I don't know who the guy was, why he said that, or what he was doing, but to you- that guy- I salute you. Best line ever.
We're interviewing people for a position in my department which means, yes, I am now the interviewer instead of the interviewee. My how things change. So far, we've had only one interview, and yes, I am trying not to do anything I hated when being the interviewee. In the only interview we've had so far, I thought I was rather cleverly conversational while still getting the information I needed to know. The guy was a bit older than me,in his 40's and way over-qualified, which is neither here nor there for purposes of this blog entry. What is, however, is that he had this weird tick in that whenever he needed to use a finger- whether to scratch an itch or point to something- he didn't use his index finger, he used his middle finger. So I'm right in the middle of the interview and all of a sudden, it looks like the guy is giving me the finger. I know it's unintentional and not something he meant to do, but still. Dude, never use your middle finger to scratch an itch near your eyebrow.

The other thing about the interview was that this guy was extremely qualified and could handle the job easily. In fact, he was over-qualified. But as I interviewed him, my main problem with him wasn't that he was too qualified for the job, it's just that the dude was older than and looked it. I know it's important to find somebody whose a "good fit" but is being "a good fit" really just a way of saying you want to hire somebody who'd you like to hang with? This guy could be the best possible candidate we'd ever see, yet both me and my nominal boss both thought he just "wouldn't fit in" which I'm pretty sure we both meant as he just wasn't cool enough for our little gang.

Sunday, November 14, 2004

Late Thursday afternoon, my nominal boss (supervisor?) asked me to go to a kickoff meeting in her place. I didn't want to go because I was having meeting burn-out, but went anyways because she is my nominal boss and is a bit busier than me, which is saying a lot because I've been slammed like a cheap bottle of tequilla over the past few weeks. No biggie, though, it's just another creative kick off meeting, the kind of meeting with a few people in my department and a few marketing types. But as I get off the elevator, I notice that that pretty much all my department heads were there, as well as several VP types. The next thing I notice is that we're headed towards a big, huge, conference room, much bigger than the one's I've seen. And it's full too. With not only my department heads, but the heads of all the major marketing departments, not to mention all the agency reps for the various ad agencies we employ. How big were the people at this meeting? While I'll probably never meet the somewhat legendary owner of the company, most of the people around me were people who not only have met him, but probably hang out at his somewhat legendary of a house. And when they refer to him by his first name, they're not being ironic, they really know him. As soon as I walked in, I got that "what the hell am I doing here?" feeling. It was like the meeting in "Fellowship of the Rings" where the Elves, Dwarves, and Men send all their big honchos to discuss what to do with the ring with me as Pippin.

Now the best thing to do with meetings like this is to sit in a corner where nobody can notice you. The only problem is that this conference room is packed and that there really aren't any chairs to sit on, or at least chairs by the table. A chair does open up, right at the center of the table and so I sit down. What can I say? I'm tired and sitting at the table helps you rest a bit. I also managed to make my new Manager lose out on the game of conference musical chairs and so she's now sitting behind me, away from the table. I quickly think about switching seats with her so she'll be up front and I'll be in the back, in part out of guilt for what I think is snagging her chair, but then realize that's too obvious of a kiss-ass move, so I don't.

The meeting starts and I think to myself that even though I have no idea why I'm there, I'll make it out of it okay because somebody across the table from me, one of my marketing managers, is going to run the meeting. Nobody will even notice me. This plan, however, had one small flaw in it- it turns out that the guy I was sitting next to is really the guy in charge and after a few minutes into the meeting, takes over. I now found myself in a position in which everyone is pretty much staring right at me for the entire meeting.

Now I'm tired and I'm exhausted. It's been a long week and a long day and I'm heading into a three-cup of coffee caffiene crash. I am also dressed as if I knew it was going to be a long day and wearing my comfy clothes- jeans, sweatshirt, sneakers, and a day's worth of stubble. I do not look like marketing type. I do not look even that professional. If I would have known I was going to be in this type of meeting, I would have made myself decent, but I didn't know. And here I am in a room full of people way above me, people who I'm sort of underneath, people who I haven't really met yet, looking really haggard.

Even worse, it quickly becomes apparent that I really didn't need to be there. The meeting was a serious strategy meeting, not the kind of meeting I needed to be at. Which means that my wondering of what I was doing there wasn't just me being neurotic, but reality, a great type meeting to be at towards the end of the day, around 5'ish, when I've had a long day. Now I have to worry about not looking bored to tears, something with which I thought I did a pretty good job of accomplishing.

That is thought.

After the meeting the coworkers who went to the meeting with me told me how sorry they felt for me in having to be there because I looked so pathetically bored the whole time.
One of my favorite things about wasting time at Virgin Records is all the people watching you can do. Sometimes people will put the headphones on and have so much fun listening to the music that they'll get a bit too much into it, forgetting that they're in a big, huge store with people walking around everywhere. Today I saw some preppy James Spader wanna-be rocking out to the Garden State soundtrack (hey, I love the Garden State soundtrack too, but I don't particularly think it inspires rocking of any sort) and some 60 year old guy in garish basketball team jacket not only watching a Shakira DVD, but practicing dance moves to the DVD.

Oh, and I made the mistake of buying a few things at Radio Shack before going to not only CompUSA and Virgin. Couldn't even go to the bathroom without getting dinged by all the anti-theft sensors. Bad move.

Saturday, November 13, 2004

You know, it's tough enough to be single sometimes without hearing about all these losers out there who somehow manage to get girlfriends. Like, it turns out, John Hinckley Jr., otherwise known as the guy who shot Reagan in an attempt to impress Jody Foster. Talk about blows to your self-esteem. What the hell could I be doing wrong? I'm a nice guy. I've never shot a President. I've never stalked some Hollywood actress because I couldn't tell that "Taxi Driver" was a movie. I've never been thrown into a mental institution for the entirety of my life.

Sure, he met her in the insane asylum too, which means she's pretty crazy too, but still.
Something is being filmed on my street today which has been kind of a pain. Go get coffee or go to the store to buy food and I have to walk past equipment, crew members, trucks, extras, gawkers, and catering tables. What they're filming, I don't know, other than one of the musty old used book stores on the street, the one that usually features pictures of dead Palestinians on their windows, has been turned into a "Magic Shop" and a bunch of stores right next to it have been closed down due to the hullaballo. The funny thing is that there are so many trucks and equipment around that a whole bunch of people are standing around watching, waiting to see what there is to see, yet nobody knows what's being filmed. It could be a Toyota commercial for all people know yet everyone's standing around as if there gonna see stars.

This morning, on my way to coffee, I saw filming in the used bookstore, but couldn't see what was going on or who was in there. A few hours later when I left the apartment to get a haircut, it looked like everything was dying down. There were less trucks around, less tables, and a bunch of crew members were hugging each other goodbye. Even better, my way down Valencia was pretty much unimpeded, unlike the other times this morning where it was a total obstacle course. So, head down, I quickly made way down the sidewalk, only to look up for a split second to realize that I was about ten feet away from running smack dab into Reese Witherspoon.

Guess there's some big movie being filmed here.

PS- Saw on my way back that there's a whole bunch of "Sidewalk Closed" signs up, all of which I completely walked past without seeing in my morning haze. Ooops. Guess that's why I almost was able to run over Reese. Which would have been kind of funny and kind of cool, but then I'd be known all over the world as "The guy who ran over Reese Witherspoon." I can just see "Extra!" and "Entertainment Tonight" now.

PPS- she's tiny.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

For those who were wondering, last weeks' Wank of the Week was just another victim of the election. Who could care about stupid free weeklies when the country was taking an exciting leap into the 19th century? But I'm better this week.

So, to make up for missing last week, this week I'm going to give out two (that's two!) wanks for the price of one. What? You think you can get that kind of kind deal at the Mitchell Brothers? I think not (not that I know of course, but I have heard stories). Besides, last week's Bay Guardian was nothing but a huge, heaping platter of Wankerness. In fact, I opened it up looking to see if I had missed anything and, upon seeing the words "spoken word," knew I had. The story about the spoken word artist was, as they say, "so best"- a frothy mixture of pretentious writing describing pretentious art. How so best is it? In just one sentence, there's gratuitous use of the words "patriarchy," "oppression," "militarism" and "imperialism." I'll leave out the bit about "commodification," however as it all starts becoming too much (you know, if you're going to throw down the words patriarchy and oppression, you mght as well go for broke and throw down a commodification just because). Anyways, in a description of some somewhat famous spoken word performer, we have this week's, er last week's, Wank of the Week:


THERE'S A SCENE in Aya de León's latest one-woman show, Aya de León Is Running for President, in which she becomes the Puerto Rican island of Vieques. "My name is Vieques," the poem begins (almost all of de León's scenes double as poems), as she – shoulders slumped, eyes downcast, arms wrapped tightly round her chest – plays Vieques as a sexually abused child, a "Puerto Rican girl [whose] stepfather is the United States," who enters her room every night "to do his business." As the piece progresses, de León's posture and tone shift, her spine straightening, voice steeling, until at scene's end, her Vieques categorically rejects U.S. occupation of her body, barring her doors and burning the "itchy, clingy dress" her stepfather has made her wear for so many years. "My name is Vieques," de León bellows, chin jutting skyward, "and I will be free."

It's an amazing moment, one in which de León collapses boundaries between women's bodies and the fate of nation-states, individual abuse and systemic oppression, stage monologue and protest speech, all the while linking patriarchy to militarism and empire building in a startlingly innovative fashion. By playing U.S. imperialism as a raging pervert who slinks away when his victim fights back, the 37-year-old, half-Puerto Rican, half-black, longtime East Bay resident exposes the powers that be for precisely what they are – fucked-up, fearful, and fallible – a much needed reminder in such stifling times.


Which brings us up to this week. I had actually thought I had nothing this time around, but thankfully, the lovely and talented SFist Rita, pointed me in the right direction. How could I miss a review of a play that's all about domestic violence? Just as the description of a spoken word performers monologue comparing rape to imperialism sounds like a great night out, I can't think of anything more fun and exciting to do than seeing a play about domestic violence. And to think I wasted my Monday night watching Ayanna go off on her teammates on the "RW/RR: Battle of the Sexes." I am so unenlightened. I mean, here's what I missed:

In an ingeniously orchestrated dance number, and one of the evening's most powerful segments, the ensemble gradually underscores the possessive pronoun in the old Temptations song "My Girl" while cracking open with a raging force the synonyms within the noun – "my girlfriend, my wife, my bitch, my boss, my job," etc. Here and elsewhere, A Fist of Roses gets at the nature of objectification, the turning of another human being into something owned, a thing to be moved around at will or to be kept still forever.

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

As I wrote yesterday, Saturday was the big kickball playoffs- six hours in the frozen tundra of Sharon Meadows playing single-elimination playoff games. Followed, of course, by the end-of-the-season party and other bits of mayhem. In other words, a lot of alcohol was involved.

Somewhere in the blur I remember slam dancing at the club, somebody diving onto a table full of cups of beer, and having the ball repeatedly kicked over my head. The "highlight" of the night, or more like the thing that'll become endlessly told and retold for the rest of the kickball team's natural born life, came much later. Much, much later. Like this evening when I talked to a friend who missed all the partying but heard all the gossip.

After the kickball games, the nap, the after-party, and the drinks at the Pig & Whistle, someone on the team brought a bunch of us over to his apartment, conveniently located across from the bar. Bad idea as we spent most of the rest of the night throwing things around and knocking things over. The next morning, the guys' roommate stumbled into his bathroom, the one closest to the living room, only to find that somebody left a little something for him. We'll leave what it was up to the imagination, but let's just say it's something kind of involving the natural result of leaving a stack of Maxims by the toilet.

Now that the story is out, the big question is who spuged it? Most guesses involve the friend of a friend who came over late in the night mainly because only somebody who doesn't really know anyone is capable of doing what was done. Or so one would hope. We would also like to say two other things. The first, of course, is iyick. Seriously, iyick. The second thing is this: good ole kickball. Always worth a good story afterwards.

Monday, November 08, 2004

Random musings for a random Monday.

-Have you ever been so out of it that the bags underneath your eyes felt so puffed up that you felt like shouting out "Cut me Mickey?"

-On Friday before I went out to meet with friends, I noticed that I one of my shaving nicks from that morning was bleeding. So I wondered, was it bleeding all day and nobody said anything? Did I totally make fool out of myself all day?

-I've seen the new Star Wars trailer both online and in the movies and I've noticed there's like this Pavlovian thing that happens when it comes on. For the first few seconds, especially when you see the LucasFilms logo, the excitement comes over you. A couple of seconds later, you realize that it's probably going to suck just as much as the other movies and so you get over it really quickly.

-Found myself last week so stressed out at work and so pissed off at the photocopy machine that I started to kick it. Believe it or not, I consider it a good thing to be so stressed out at work that I'm kicking the photocopier. It's all relative.

-Had the big kickball playoffs on Saturday morning starting at 10:30 in the morning. The same time as our kickball game was being played, there was this marathon/cross country event taking place. As I stood there in right field, I saw this huge group of runners headed my way so I risked life and limb to not only get out of their way, but to save my cocktail. As I watched them run away and took a drink of my screwdriver, I wondered if that is what one would call a moment of clarity.

-I'm feeling a little better about things right now. I even spent some time reading Slate this morning and have caught a few seconds of the Daily Show the past couple of days. I'm thinking if I keep this up, I'll actually be able to make it through the newspaper within a couple of days or read the New York Times again. I'm thinking, though, that it'll still be months before I even go near one of the cable news channels again. Seriously, ever since the election, I feel like I've been dumped. Like I should just stay in my room listening to "Losing My Religion" over and over again.

-Dear WB, we thank you for showing "The Fellowship of the Rings" as apparently there's no limit to how many times I can watch it. However, if you're going to go to all the trouble of showing it in wide-screen and with HiDef, could you please not paste the WB logo all over the screen or show clips of upcoming WB shows during the movie? Kind of defeats the purpose of all that HiDef stuff if you ask me.

-Those orange Cincinati Bengals outfits? Worst Uniform Ever.

-I stumbled upon this series Skinemax movie called "Married Couples." I was kind of fascinated by the movie because the film-makers are trying real hard to do serious drama instead of just some stupid soft-core flick. The movie, filmed in cinema verite style with faux "interviews", basically detail a group of married friends and the troubles and problems they have in their marriage. So, in between sex scenes, there's lots of spats, interviews where each cast-member describes all the angst they have in their relationship, and whining. There's even scenes where the couples are so angry they don't have sex. And I'm thinking, who the hell wants to see a porn movie in which a married couple fight and not have sex? Plus, no matter how hard they work the cinema verite style, I've noticed that every time a couple goes at it, the wah-wah porn music kicks in.

Sunday, November 07, 2004

Dear Red States,

Wow, it's been a hell of run, hasn't it? We built a country of nothing, created a model of democracy and freedom that's an example throughout the world, and became the Big Kahuna of countries. We are the world's only superpower right now, the Rome that strides across the world. America, Fuck Yeah!

But, and I hate to say this, it's time we talked. I think we need to separate.

No, I'm not saying split up indefinitely, I'm just thinking we need some time apart. Maybe see some other people. You know, that Canada maybe kind of boring, but she's really nice and smart. And yeah, France can be a pain-in-the-ass, but man is she beautiful. Oh la la!

Either way, I think we need some time apart from each other, kind of reevaluate our partnership.

See, the thing is, and this is really hard to say, but I think we're growing apart. We, for instance, see the major problems facing our country as being the economy and terrorism. You, on the other hand, think the major problems facing the country is "moral values" and gay people (or as Wonkette would put it "ass fucking" since that seems to be the main icky part of the whole gay thing for people). We think a leader should be smart, compassionate, knowledgeable, and tolerant. You, however, just want one who's Best Friends Forever with Jesus. As you can see, this just isn't going to work.

But it's more than that, more than just growing apart. It's, and how shall I put this, more about responsibility. And maturity. And smarts. See, the thing is that you're, well, holding us back in a way. You're George in "Of Mice and Men." You're Fredo in the "Godfather." You're the perpetual fuck-up with whom we have to rescue time after time after time and frankly, we've had it. We think you need to fend for yourself, learn some responsibility. Grow up.

Take this war on terrorism thing. We couldn't help notice that the two places that got hit on 9/11, two places that are probably #1 and #2 on the terrorist hit parade- D.C. and New York- voted for Kerry, the one preaching a more multi-lateral, multi-leveled approach. The kind of approach that doesn't piss off every other country in the world and doesn't wind up increasing recruits to Al Queda. As did California, a state probably up there in terms of places the terrorists want to terrorize. But all you people in places in Nebraska or Indiana or Utah, places not even terrorists would want to visit, voted for the "screw 'em all, let's blow shit up" approach. So while all those places that are on the front lines of the war on terror are urging some restraint and moderation, it's you guys, in places that aren't even in the back lines of the war on terror, that are out there saying "come on, you want a piece of this?" Thanks.

Which brings up related subjects like guns and crime. We here in city-places are the ones who have to deal with gunshots at night or a daily list of dead. We actually have crime problems. You guys, living in your rural enclaves where a crime-spree is two nights of busted keg parties (well, and crystal meth labs) are the one's who are all tough on crime and want every criminal locked up forever. Once again, we're on the front lines of something but it's you guys who are keeping us from doing what will work. And the gun thing? Oy. We just want to bring sanity to a place where criminals are usually better armed than the cops, but whenever we try and suggest something that'll decrease the dead in our streets, you guys start screaming that we'll take away your precious hunting rifles and fire-arm collection and how it's all just one big huge plot to make it easier for guys in black helicopters to invade the country. It's not. Trust us, we don't care about taking away your hunting rifles (some of us may protest the idea of hunting but really that's only a few of us). We just don't like dodging semi-automatic weapons every night.

Then there's the economy. You guys love, just love, that "low taxes, less government" blather. Nothing makes you go "uh-huh" too more like talk about pulling yourself up off the bootstraps and individual responsibility. You want to know who the biggest recipients of government subsidies are? No, not poor black crack-heads, but farmers. Yep, the heart of the heartland. Turns out farmers are nothing but a bunch of huge welfare queens. Ever hear of a thing called ethanol? You want to know something else? Who do you think gets the higher percentage of government funding? Southern states. Yep, we blue staters pay a higher percentage of taxes (earn that tax rate even) but you guys receive more of the money. Of course, some of it is because you're a bit on the poor and backwater side (which one could argue can be blamed on the less taxes, less government stuff), but we're also thinking that it's pretty easy to be for law taxes and less government when it's our money that's going to support all the government programs you guys claim you don't want. Or, in some cases, have to pay for because of government mandates you guys voted for. Look, we're okay with helping out. We're okay with helping farmers. We like farmers. We have a whole bunch ourselves (add up California and Pennsylvania and that's a whole lot of farmers). We just believe that if you want government programs, you should pay for it.

Then there's this whole election. You know, democracy is, as the President is so fond of saying, hard work. You have to pay attention, know what's going on, know what the facts are. That's how you make a good decision. That's the whole philosophical basis behind democracy, in fact, that an enlightened and educated people are the ones who should have the power to make decisions. Notice, however, the key words enlightened and educated. Frankly, you guys just aren't holding up your part of the bargain here. A majority of you people who voted for Bush thinks Iraq had WMDs. In fact, you think experts have proven it. You also believe that there are substantial connections found between Iraq and Al Queda. But wait, it gets even better- Bush voters also believe that Bush is following along with international concuss on most major treaties, including Kyoto. Oh, and you also think we're well supported throughout the world on what we've done over the past few years. Not even Fox News pretends that’s true.

That's the kind of stuff we're talking about here. You guys just aren't holding up your end of the bargain on this here democracy thing. How are we supposed to make smart decisions on things when we're not being smart. And you wonder why we're so despondent over the election? You want to know who else you voted in besides Bush? There's this guy in Oklahoma, the new senator there, who says that the biggest threat to the country is "the gay agenda" and that abortion doctors should be tried for murder. The new Senator in South Carolina said during a debate that he doesn't think gay people should be allowed to teach. Then there's the guy in Kentucky whose getting so senile he was virtually drooling during the campaign. These are the people you guys just elected to the Senate. Thanks a fucking lot. Seriously.

So that's why we come up with this here proposal. And no, it's not necessarily to punish you or because we're angry, although we are, it's just that we think it's what's best for you. See, we think that if we let you do what you actually want to do, without us to be the responsible adult and bail you out, you just might start getting it. In other words, we're letting you guys do whatever you want. So if you want less taxes and less government, go at it- you just ain't getting our money to help you out. If you want to teach creationism and have school prayer and base your leaders on their supposed Christian morality, go for it, don't let us stop you building that bridge to the 19th century. Just don't blame us if you become the laughing stock of the world and find that nobody in your schools are getting educated. Hell, if you want to ban abortion or gay people we'll let you do that too. Just good luck with that. We're sure the banning of abortion and the teaching of abstinence is gonna keep little Bobby Sue and Bobby Jack from getting busy after Chem class lets out. And the banning of gay people is sure gonna prevent your precious little Sally Mae from becoming lesbian or your next door neighbor from cranking opera and Cher til all hours of the night. That is if there still there because I'm sure most talented, intelligent people are gonna the fuck out of Dodge as soon as you start doing that. We'll see how well your economy does after that when the only people left are a bunch of illiterate hicks who think the Bible is fact. Most importantly, if you want to go blow up other countries, tell the rest of the world that we're "U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!" and we can do whatever we want, leave us out of it. Please.

There's this really interesting book out right now called What's the Matter With Kansas? How Conservatives Won the Heart of America. In it, the author wonders why is it that Kansas can do so poorly economically yet constantly vote against the very people who are trying to help those people. The economy hasn't gone anywhere in years, the schools suck, the wages stagnant- it's just one big huge state of Wal-Marted strip malls. In the book, the author writes how the Republicans have been able to get away with it by stressing cultural issues. Those even though everyone's lives could be made better by the government and by Democratic policies, people vote against their own self-interest because they just don't think the Democrats "speak for them." That they don't "share their values."

I guess what we're trying to say is that it's fine that you think that. In fact, we respect it in a way. We just don't want that. We don't want to be in a Wal-Marted strip-mall of a country. If you want that, go nuts. Just leave us out of it. Which is what we're trying to say here. We're tired of bailing you out. We're tired of holding up our end of the bargain. And until you can become full and equal partners in this here experiment in Democracy, we don't want to be partners with you.

Signed,

The Blue States

PS- and yes, I feel much better about things after writing this. Oh, I'm still sitting shiva over the election, but I'm finally able to read the news without getting virulently ill.

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

Don't know how things were going for you today, but everyone at work was totally tired, hungover, depressed, angry, and on edge. People came about as close to you could get to snapping at somebody without actually snapping and at some point, almost everyone had to apologize for how they came off when talking. People would just say "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, it's just that, well, you know.

As for me, I'm so depressed I can't even watch "the Daily Show." It's just not funny right now. No way, no how. All I can say is thank God for ESPN because that's all I can watch over the next couple of days. Well, that and Skinemax, but that's a given.

PS- we saw lightning today in the sky during one of the quicky storms that hit. Obviously a sign. But of what? It doesn't look like the Bible Belt got hit with anything. Maybe Smirkyboy is the God's chosen one? Or maybe it was just lightning.

From Hunter Thompson's Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail speaking about a time much like our own- " It is Nixon who represents that dark, venal, and incurably violent side of the American character almost every other country in the world has learned to fear and despise. . . . He speaks for the Werewolf in us; the bully, the predatory shyster who turns into something unspeakable, full of claws and bleeding sting-warts, on nights when the moon comes too close. . "

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

You know what the worst part is? I spent all day reading the "exit polls" and saw nothing but a Kerry victory. So I spent all day on the phone and talking to coworkers telling them it's all good and it's all gonna be a celebration. Now I have to go eat a lot of crow tomorrow, not to mention try to catch up on all the work I didn't do yesterday.

Thanks Slate. Thanks Wonkette.

Guess I learned an important lesson today- don't believe anything you read online.

I feel sick. Really, really sick.
And with that, I voted. Got dressed, grabbed my coffee and ran to the polling booth. In light of the importance of this election, I felt like I needed to make a statement and vote early, not wait til after work when most of the East Coast was done and the blabbering heads were in full gasbag mode. Hell, this thing could be over by 5:15 California time. Or, maybe 5:15 next Tuesday, but whatever. Felt it so important to vote early I'm going into work late.

I have to admit, however, I'm kind of disappointed that nobody tried to harass me as I walked in. No gangs of roving Republicans telling me I can't vote there, no documentary crew and team of lawyers to make sure nothing happened, no Republicans pretending to be gay people and scaring my heterosexual ass into voting for the party that loves Jesus more. Oh well. And in light of 2000, I felt like after voting, I should have announced to everyone that I was voting for Kerry, just to make sure nothing happens and somebody thinks I voted for Nader or that Consitutional Party guy.

I also have to admit that while I did vote for all 30 or so propositions (after studying them for several hours last week) I didn't vote at all for College Community Board or School Board. College Community Board? Who cares. Seriously. School Board, slightly important but as I have no kids, means nothing to me. The thing is that for both of the positions, I don't think it'll make a damn difference. Just as long as the people being voted in don't support creationism or something like that, I'm fine with it. I'm sure whoever wins will do their best. It's not like they're going to start a war on a country without a plan or something like that.

Monday, November 01, 2004

And so tomorrow is the day. I think I speak for a lot of people when I say I'm pretty fricking freaked out. Those polls are way to tight all things considering. I mean, is it possible for a President to fuck up as much as this one has? What the fuck, people?

When I was younger and a lot more into football, I was a huge Cleveland Browns fan. When I was in college, they had those almost great Bernie Kosar teams, the one's that always made it close only to lose in completely horrible, awful fashion. For two years in a row, they made it to the AFC Championship and I can remember the whole week before the game, having that feeling that was a combination of excitement and dread. I knew that in one week, I could either be in the promised land or heartbreak city. I even remember being so excited that I went to bed early the night before the game, set my alarm to wake up in enough time to watch the pre-game show and went banging on the door of the RA to get them to open up the lounge. That's how I feel about tomorrow, except instead of a week to anticipate the game, it's been four years. Again, I think I speak for a lot of people when I say that I've been wishing for tomorrow ever since a bunch of old Jews thought they were voting for Buchanan.

For the past two weeks, whenever I've come to write a posting, I've thought that it's time to rant on. I've written it several times in my head, but when I started it just went all over the place. I was going to compare the polls to one of those bell curves in which the smart people keep the grades from being too low but all the idiots knock down the high scores. Or how if Bush wins, we, the blue state people, should just pretty much tell the red state folks that they're on their own now, that we'll stop carrying them. I was even thinking about writing how there might be some good things to come out of a Bush victory (like how pop culture is getting interesting again and for proof, check out the Eminem video- it's amazing. Or how Bush is going to have to deal with the mess he created in Iraq and for the first time ever, not have someone who can bail him out).

But I won't. For now. Hopefully I won't have to write any of it. Truth is, nobody knows what the hell is going to happen tomorrow and while I have my guesses (I'm thinking it's not going to be close just because everyone thinks it's going to be close and whenever everyone says something is going to happen, it never happens) I don't know. I'm just hoping the vaunted Democratic ground war is as good as they're saying it is. After all, all those pictures of people lined up in Florida to vote early sure don't look Republican.

Still, all I can say about tomorrow is this- gulp.

We got to pump the stuff to make us tough
from the heart
It's a start, a work of art
To revolutionize make a change nothin's strange
People, people we are the same
No we're not the same
Cause we don't know the game
What we need is awareness, we can't get careless
You say what is this?
My beloved lets get down to business
Mental self defensive fitness
(Yo) bum rush the show
You gotta go for what you know
Make everybody see, in order to fight the powers that be
Lemme hear you say...
Fight the Power

Totally Random, Totally Inexplicable Song Going Through My Head This Morning- Ethel Mermen's "There's No Business Like Show Business."

I dunno either.