I've been warned that it was going to happen and it finally did- I have that stupid Kelly Clarkson song going through my head.

Damn you, damn you all the hell.

The Socialists were out in force on 16th Street today handing out the latest issue of their paper, which they do every once in awhile. It's almost kind of cute in a way. Usually when you walk by, they ask if you want to buy the paper of sometimes they'll say "do you want to stop the war?" Naturally, I just walk on by and kind of ignore it. Yes, it's rude but when you get panhandled about ten times between the BART station and your apartment, you kind of just tune it out. Usually, they're cool about it and don't say anything back. Sometimes, howevery, they get snippy and there's nothing worse than the combination snippy and self-righteous. Hearing "thanks a lot for not giving me money" is one thing "what do you mean you don't want to stop the war?" is a whole other thing.

PS- I love the fact that in a lot of the obituariaries (and yes, I spelled it wrong) for Johnny Cochrane, there's usually a "Seinfeld" reference mentioned early on. Poor, poor Jackie Chiles......

Flipping through the channels I see CNN has gone the dark screen and somber music approach. On Fox, Bill O'Reilly asks some Evangelical why some Democrats are so eager to have wanted Terry Schiavo to die. Then I come upon South Park and watch an episode in which the Republicans do the bidding of Satan and try to prevent Kenny's feeding tube from being pulled so he won't die and be able to lead the forces of heaven in the ultimate battle between Heaven & Hell.

Thank God for South Park.

Hey, so I called it. The Pope's getting a tube. Now how about that?

Between Terri about to go, Falwell about to go, and the Pope about to go, one has to think that God's not having a good couple of weeks, now is He. Of course, one could also argue that he's having a good week, but that's not up to me to say.

Every once in awhile, you read something that fills you with such awe at the ways of the Universe that you can only wonder at it's manifest mysteries. Such is the case with this story-

Matt and Sydney from "Melrose Place" are married with kids in real life.

This is the most amazing story since reading an eyewitness account of Luke Perry and Jason Priestley running into each other at an eatery in LA and hugging each other hello.

By the way, reason #532 why I love the internet- because somebody took the time and effort to detail every girl Kevin Arnold of "the Wonder Years" could have nailed instead of Winnie Cooper.

Always had a thing for Becky Thatcher too.

And yes, we love Terri Schiavo's blog. I was flipping through the channels tonight and saw Sean Hannity ponder what kind of damage reinstating the feeding tube could cause Terri and nobody pointed out the fact that there's really not that much damage you could do to her anyways. What, like she'd be even less responsive? And I also have heard various people say that the problem they are having with all of this is that "there's been a rush to judgement" on the Schiavo issue. I guess fifteen years is still to quick to decide if somebody is too much of a vegetard to go on living. Hannity had two people who were supposedly in support of pulling the plug. One of them was, shall I say, less than ready for Prime Time in that she was kind of mousy and frumpy. The other one, a woman, was wearing a "Socialist Workers of the World Unite" T-shirt. So I'm wondering, when will Fox just make all the lefties just show up in clown costumes and get it over with?

My mother, who doesn't read this but will probably click on today just because I'm about to write about her, is one of those people who obsesses over plans and logistics. I am once again going to go back East and the mere mention of my trip immediately causes a five minute discourse on how I could get around. Now, I've lived in California for about twenty years and during those twenty years, have always gone back home at least once or twice a year. And every time I go back home, I do a fairly good job of getting around. It's actually kind of easy as there's one train that goes from D.C. to New York on a fairly regular basis. There's also busses and friends and subways too. In other words, I know how to get around the East Coast. At no point have I gone back and not had any problems figuring out where to go and, in fact, have gotten pretty good at navigating around D.C. and New York by myself. Yet still, whenever I get on the phone and mention going back east, my mother starts launching into "well, you can take a train to go to Philadelphia, or you can take a bus, or maybe you can borrow my car...."

Then, after I get her off the subject, it's impossible for her to not get back on the subject. After finally getting her to stop discussing travel arrangements between her, my brother, and my dad, I mention the fact that I'm going to go to a Phillies game one night and, blammo "well, you could take the subway, or I could drive you here, or your friend could pick you up but I don't know if that's on the way....."

Last week I got to the shuttle early and just sat in the van waiting for it to leave. The driver that morning had cranked the stereo to the classic soul hits station (whatever that is) and left to go wander around. Everyone in it was tired and looking kind of grumpy. That is, until "It Takes Two" came on.

I put down my paper. The guy in front of me got on his cell phone to call a friend just so he could blast his song over the phone. The guy next to me started tapping along to the beat. And my coworker sitting behind me, who had her head leaning against the back of my seat and who had just spent the previous couple of minutes complaining how tired she was, very subtly started bouncing in her seat.

Now that's what I call a good song.

Bunch of quick takes.....

-Dear whoever is in charge of spamming me: no, I am not interested in Christian Home Lenders. What part of you thinks I would be interested in A, a house, or B doing it with somebody just because they love Jesus. As for Christian Singles sites, again, not Christian. On the other hand, it might be worthwhile if only because I can use the "I'm hoping somebody can convert me" angle. Not to mention putting a whole new twist on the Portnoy thing. Either way, I'm pretty sure that Jesus would not send spam mail.

-I'm kind of bummed one of the Bush brothers didn't send in the National Guard to rescue the Vegetable. They and the whole Republican party have been flirting with breaking every Constitutional Safeguard since 2000 so what's to stop them now? Only this time people might catch on. And yes, I've been rather mean about this whole Schiavlo case, but when the media and Congress spend all of their time telling us "You Have to Care About this Issue" I'm gonna bring on the snark. Too many damn people on this planet anyways.

-Went to some comedy showcase last Thursday night and in the front row, right close to the stage, two women sat there the entire time and knitted. When one of the comedians kind of gave them crap for doing it, one of them replied "you can't mess with my sewing circle."

-Yes, I am finding myself getting extremely excited over the new movie, "Sin City." It looks freakin' awesome.

-Finally played "Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas" several weeks ago. Why would anyone think that a game in which you earn points by shooting cops, carjacking cars, and beating up hookers is socially irredeemable?

-Is there any significance to the fact that the big Easter meal usually consists of ham?

And finally....

We watched "The Bad News Bears" over the weekend and one of my friends said part of his love for the movie is because it would never get made now. Way to politically incorrect with it's cursing, alcoholism, smoking, and occasional racist crack. Turns out they're actually remaking it. I should have gone into film production because how hard can it be to dream up doing a remake of a movie slightly under thirty years old? How long until the remake of "the Pacifier?"

Anyways, I wonder if they'll be able to get away with lines like this classic: "Well, what do you expect? All we got on this team is a bunch of Jews, spics, niggers, pansies and a booger eatin' moron."

Anyways, a few of my new best things ever-
-Buffalo prawns at the Miramir Inn near Half Moon Bay.
-Hunks of parmesian cheese being handed out by waiters at Michaelangelo's in North Beach
-Jessica Alba's photo spread in GQ
-The recent blogosphere debate and discussion about Lebanese protest babes and what it means for democracy in the Middle East
-Unused Audio Commentary by Howard Zinn and Noam Chomsky, Recorded for the Return of the King (Platinum Series Extended Edition) DVD, on McSweeney's.

And something that's not so best-
Finding out that I was getting about four months of medicine from an insurance company I was no longer a member of and getting a bill in the mail for $150.

I forgot how much fun it is to do a little morning howdy, drink the perfect amount of coffee, put on the headphones, and crank some tunes. Especially early Pumpkins, the perfect lazy Sunday Morning band if ever there was. In other words, I'm doing some serious rocking out.

Couldn't be more perfect of a "We Tried to Kill Him but He Arose Anyway" Day.

This is probably going to get me that much closer to hell than I already am, but....

...considering that a lot of the hard-core Catholics are behind the "Save Terri" movement and that the Pope has spoken out in support of her and with the Pope being pretty much kept alive by tubes, wouldn't it be ironic if the Pope winds up in some sort of vegetative state and kept alive that way? What would the Catholic Church do? Would they replace him, kind of like Michael Schialvo got himself a girlfriend and a new family, or will they still have him as the head of the Church and wheel him out every Sunday where they'll throw balloons at him to get him to have some sort of reaction to please the faithful?

Hey, it looks like my idea of letting the South do what they want is really working. You want a generation of dumbshits, you got a generation of dumbshits. For instance, there's this:

Capitol bill aims to control ‘leftist’ profs:
THE LAW COULD LET STUDENTS SUE FOR UNTOLERATED BELIEFS.

TALLAHASSEE — Republicans on the House Choice and Innovation Committee voted along party lines Tuesday to pass a bill that aims to stamp out “leftist totalitarianism” by “dictator professors” in the classrooms of Florida’s universities.

In short, teach Evolution, go to jail

And then there's this:

Some IMAX theaters not screening volcanoes flick

CHARLESTON, S.C. (AP) -- The IMAX theater in Charleston and several others in the South have passed on showing a science film on volcanoes because of concerns it might offend those with fundamental religious beliefs.

And remember, leave no child behind!

I'm supposed to have my Fantasy Baseball auction in a few weeks and I just can't get into it. I pick up those damn books and within a page or two, put them down due to boredom. How not into it am I? I'd rather read "War and Peace" than read through those damn books (I'm on page 300!).

Make that what you will as I'm not sure that's a bad thing.

Turns out that Mr. Schialvo has been co-habitating with someone else this whole time and even has kids with them. This, I guess, is considered bad because all the Wing-nuts are calling him a bigamist and a bad husband. As if Rick Santorum would stick with his wife if she was a vegetard the whole time. It does give him kind of a creepy Claus Von Bulow vibe to him, however.

I made the mistake of watching the cable news channels tonight and was midly suprised to find all the blowhard types in full hyper-ventilation mode, aghast and appalled that anyone would even consider pulling the plug on Terry despite the fact I've had canned corn more alive than her.

Just building that bridge to the 18th century....

And yes, I rented "Return of the Jedi." Damn, Ewoks. Seriously, that could have been the best movie out of all them if Lucas didn't get so cutesy. And it wasn't just the Ewoks either, it was things like Jabba's little hideaway and the whole dance sequence there.

But there was always something else that bugged me about "Jedi." And that is the whole bit with the Emperor trying to turn Luke to the dark side. The thing I don't like is how the Emperor keeps on telling Luke what will turn him to the dark side. You know, like "give in to your anger and give in to the dark side." Total James Bond villain there. Of course Luke's going to hesitate and try and fight it. The Emperor pretty much gives a tutorial to Luke on what not to do. I mean, if he really wanted to convert Luke he should have gone about it in a completely different manner. Like maybe trying to Luke more angry by insulting him. You know, like tell him stuff like "you're mother wears combat boots" or "Nice light saber, I see that my Schwartz is bigger than yours." Or, if he was as all-knowing as he claimed to be, maybe he should have just tried to piss off Luke other ways. Like telling him that the girl who he had a crush on in school and who rejected him got together with Biggs in the back of some Landspeeder.

Or maybe he should have just used reverse psychology, you know, saying the opposite of what Luke should do and try and trick him. Like say things like "anger helps you fight off the dark side, so don't get angry." Or "oh no, don't strike me. I'm defenseless. That would be a bad thing."

Nope. He just blew it.

You know who I feel really sorry for these days? Terry Schialvo's husband. He's been at this for fifteen years. Fifteen years! Dear God, let the guy alone. Total wife in a coma. I'm sure all he wants to do is get this thing over with. Maybe start dating again. Maybe even get some. But no. The in-laws won't let him. Look! Every few days she follows a balloon around the room! That mean's she's conscious! That means she's aware! She might be saved someday! Sure, it's been fifteen years since she went into a coma, that doesn't mean at some point she can be cured!

Dear Terry Schialvo's Parents, your daughter is a vegetable. A vegetard. To paraphrase the Ramones, everytime I eat vegetables, it makes me think of her. All she does is just sit there in a bed, occasionally shit and breathe. That's it. Get over it. Let her die. If you really want to hold on to her, maybe just stuff her and put her up on your mantle. There's not really that much difference between her being stuffed and put up in a mantle and her being a vegetable in a bed anyways.

And why are all those Christian-types who all believe that Heaven is the most fantasic place in the world won't let her go to it? Don't you think being all angelic and hanging out with her dead dog Smuffins and Grandpa Joe and Aunt Myrtle would be much better than what she's doing now? Let her go to the light.

Jesus criminy.

I guess all the "Revenge of the Sith" hype (the new trailer is all sorts of awesome) is starting to get to me because last night, I stayed in (damn you, flu bug!) and rented The Empire Strikes Back. And you know what? It's still so fuckin' good. Seriously.

It's been at least six years since I've last seen it and for whatever reason, my warm fuzzy feelings towards the original Star Wars trilogy had been kind of fading. I've even been thinking blasphemous thoughts and thinking that maybe, just maybe Wrath of Khan is a better movie. And maybe even LoTR is a better cinematic trilogy (which it probably is, but that's not the point). But after watching it last night and probably possibly renting Jedi tonight, I'm back on the Star Warscrack. Nothing like watching those Imperial Walkers come clomping down in the snow on Hoth to make the inner thirteen year old geek go "this is the coolest thing I've ever seen in my life." And yes, the opening five seconds where the LucasFilm logo comes on, followed by the music and the Star Warslogo still gives the goose bumps.

One thing I noticed about the movie is that it's actually got a pretty basic plot- Empire finds rebels, rebels run, Luke learns the Force from green muppet, big surprise comes, and Han is frozen. The problem, well one of the manifold problems, with the prequels is that the plots are just way too complicated. There's way too much going on. I've seen Phantom Menacea bunch of times and for the life of me, I can't remember why those stupid-ass robots were fighting people in Naboo. And why are people trying to kill Princess Amidala? If Lucas just kind of slowed down the plot and just concentrated on a few things instead of it just being one big huge expository upchuck of plot, the movies might have been better.

I do have to say, however, that Empireactually has more resonance after watching the prequels. It's better, in fact. Backstory always does that. Like whenever you see ghostly apparition Obi Wan give a little look to Yoda you think there's much more to the look than annoyance. Or during the big moment, when Darth tells Luke he's his father, you feel it a bit more because you've seen Annakin. I have a feeling it'll have more resonance after Sith. That is, if Sith doesn't suck.

All I can say is this- don't fuck this one up, George.

PS- turns out Darth never says "Luke, I'm your father" like every remembers. He actually says "No, I'm your father."

For those of you wondering what I think of the whole congressional hearing on steroids (cough*farce*cough), gohere.

Meant to post this last night but blogger was down..


Yes, I haven't been posting. Sorry. It looks like one of those office bugs finally got to me and I've been going mano-a-mano with a cold this week. And speaking of which, here was my morning....

The cold kicked in Monday afternoon and started wrecking havoc yesterday. Naturally, I got a totally craptastic sleep Tuesday night. I think it was because between the cold and having to get into work early for a meeting, I got myself so psyched up on the idea of sleeping that I couldn't sleep. So, I woke up at 6:30 this morning, feeling totally icky, achey, and groggy. I got to the BART station at 7:10, bright and early, but BART was running late, which made me wonder if something was wrong. It was. Ten minutes later, BART finally pulls in and I get on. We pull into the Airport, the stop right before the stop I get off at, about ten minutes late and just stop there. No announcement, no movement, nothing. Another train pulls in after a few minutes and I see that that train is supposed to go to my Millbrae stop. Not knowing what to do, I get off my train and hop onto the next train. As I sit there, waiting several minutes as nothing was happening, I wondered if what I did was the right thing. I also wondered just how late I was going to be for my shuttle because if I miss it, I'll have to wait for another train which'll mean a twenty minute wait and getting into work a half-an-hour later than I planned.

Finally, as the steam started to come out of my ears, the train's doors closed and we moved. The only other guy on the train got a panicked look on his face and wanted to know if he got on the right train. I told him I didn't know either. Luckily, it was the right train as we moved onto the tracks for Milbrae. Ten minutes late and about five minutes after the shuttle was supposed to have left we finally pulled in. Sometimes the shuttle sticks around, sometimes it doesn't. Come on shuttle.

I run down the stairs and see what could be my shuttle. So I start walking to it. I also notice somebody else who takes the shuttle go running off in a completely different direction. I watch to see where he's going and I realize he sees the shuttle we need to take not in the waiting area, but exiting onto the street, about 100 yards away. Realizing this could be my only shot, I start high-tailing it to the shuttle- cold ridden, groggy me.

You can pretty much guess what happened, don't you? I missed it. About twenty yards away, the shuttle pulled away and got onto the off-ramp. Bye-bye shuttle, hello CalTrains and a fifteen to twenty minute.

Get on Cal-Train, get on that shuttle and get myself into the office around 9, about half-an-hour after I planned, almost two hours after I left my apartment. Luckily, my meeting wasn't til 9:15, but I have a lot of work to do and I probably wasn't going to get to it. Go to the cafeteria to get some breakfast (oatmeal) and try to get onto the elevator to take me up to my office. Uno problemo- to get the elevator to run, I need to use my door pass. For whatever reason, my door pass wasn't working. Wasn't working at all. In fact, it was barely working yesterday but today, nada. Turns out it was my 6 month anniversary at the job (yay me!) and the door pass expired. And the thing is, the security is so tight at Super Mondo that if you can't get use the door pass, you can't get in. The security is so tight that don't even think about getting a day pass or having a receptionist buzz you in.

So I did what I could only do- I waited. And waited. And waited some more to see if someone would get on the elevator and take me up to my floor. Nobody, however, was getting on it. There was barely anyone there, in fact. I called a friend on my cell to see if she was there and she could come get me, but she wasn't in yet. After about five to ten minutes of waiting, somebody finally hopped on the elevator and at 9:20, I got to my desk.

Oh, and I had one message waiting from me. From the person who the meeting was being held for. They were going to be late.

Scenes from a weekend-

-Guy on the corner of 16th & Valencia sets up a stand on the corner to both register people to sign petitions but also to read their tarot cards.

-While getting the paper on Saturday morning, some guy starts running up and down Valencia asking for change. I get the feeling that he probably actually needs the money and is having some sort of possible car emergency as he doesn't look like your typical homeless person and is way too frantic. Still, I don't give him money. That's the thing about living where I live, the crackheads kind of ruin it for people who need the money. I also have to say that I got a bit snippy when he asked me money for me the second time. Note to homeless people: if you ask someone for money, try and remember with whom you asked the money from. If we say no once, we're not going to say yes a minute later.

-Tweaker couple on BART, all twitchy and spastic, get on the train lugging some huge laundry bag, so heavy they can't carry it. They argue the whole time about which BART station to get off and after going one stop, they get off the train and go stand on the track to go back in the direction to which they came.

-Standing outside the Glen Park Station bar, a local neighborhood dive bar if ever there was, a friend gets into a conversation with one of them, a blue collar sort in his 40's who proceeds to go on a long rant about pretty much everything. As soon as the guy started, I got that queasy feeling you get when you know somewhere along the way, the rant would get ugly. And it did. Five minutes into it, blammo, out came the racism. Had this weird feeling that I was staring at the ghost of Christmas Future- a cranky borderline alcoholic whose life consists of drinking at the neighborhood bar with all the regulars and going on long winded, half sane, totally insane rants.

-After talking to racist guy, we start talking to the clerk at the video store. He's kind of young-ish (early twenties) and white, walking home from closing up the shop and drinking a jack & coke. Dude starts telling us that he's a film student at UCSF and that one day, he's going to be a famous film director and we'll all soon learn his name. I ask him if he's actually done anything or directed a student film. He tells me he hasn't gotten around to it yet because he's been to busy studying Japanese so he can hit on Japanese girls. Start to think that right there that sums up the cities art scene and why with all the talented and creative people who live here, nobody really does anything.

-Saw a guy walking around Haight street with the familiar Che t-shirt but with the phrase "I Have No Idea Who This Guy Is" underneath the visage. Hah! Works on so many levels of irony.

-Then walked past one of the new fangled Cannabis club that now exists in the city only to notice that not only were the doors wide open, but that you could totally look inside the place. Let's just say there weren't a lot of sick looking people in there. Or at least, if they were sick, it must have been a coincidence that most of them were wearing dreadlocks.

-On SFist, guy starts posting comments about an interview with the wife of a local politician and calls the politician and his wife nazis. When it's pointed out that calling someone a nazi in a debate is a little over-the-top and nothing but name-calling, he attacks the other person for calling him a name and for trying to stifle his free speech. And there you have your commentary on politics in this city. Somehow, the guy who used the nazi comment didn't think that saying things like "of course, he doesn't support genocide" is not what makes a rational argument against someone. Later on, he goes on to say he can call people Nazis because he's Jewish. I wonder if he pulled a Tim Watley and converted to Judaism just so he could get away with calling people Nazis.

And then….


While taking the BART back from Orinda on Sunday afternoon, a bunch of students from Cal got on and sat around me. It took me a couple of minutes to realize that they were all pretty much stoned to the bejesus, the non-stop giggling and the wearing of sunglasses the entire ride being dead give-aways. Ahh, to be young and stoned again…

Because I was bored, I do a game I do when I'm bored and people watching so I started figuring out their types. Like the cool hippiesh guy in the back, the one in sunglasses who tried not to say anything: he's the guy pretending to be too cool and to experienced to be all stoned and giggly. They probably did the bong hits out of his bong. Then there was the hippie chick in dreads, the one who spent the whole time laughing. I'm guessing she wasn't a hippie chick in high school and only became one the moment her parents dropped her off at the dorms. She'll probably start doing heavier drugs and either come out of it okay or wind up going through some weird tofu, veggie phase. Then there was the hipster-ish girl with two-toned hair, nose piercing, and a Belinda Carlisle look. I'm guessing she's going to be ditching most of the people she was with over the next few years when she figures out that hipsters aren't allowed to hang out with hippies. She'll probably take up smoking (if she hasn't already) and as she was more big-boned than fat, she'll probably start chunking up in a few years. Ten years from now, she'll be one of many that you'll find at any Mission bar- the type of girl who's overweight yet still wears a t-shirt that shows off her beer-gut, chain-smokes, has dyed hair and bangs, and goes through a lengthy slutty period with guys with tattoes. As for the wall-flower girl wearing a really badly outdated pink shirt, she'll eventually have to choose between the hipster path or the hippie path. Or go lesbian.

Overheard on an ESPN discussion on one March Madness regional: "If you win some ball games and shoot the ball well, you can win the bracket." As opposed to winning games and shooting the ball well not being enough to win other brackets.

While I completely agree that the NCAA tournament is the best thing going in sports, I hate the endless squawking about it.

I was talking to somebody about when a dog dies and joking about dog heaven. In this dog heaven, dogs get to run around free and chase bunny rabbits. And then it occured to me that being chased by dogs is probably not heaven to a bunny. So, would that then make it bunny hell? Is that where all the bad bunnies would go?

Anyhoo, I am once again attempting "War and Peace." I even bought it, thinking that if I was going to spend the money on it, I might as well read it. So far, it's not going so badly (I'm on page 40!). I think it's because whoever is doing the translation decided to shorten the names. Instead of people constantly being referred to as, say, Boris Nikolai Romanov Federov Pavelvich, the edition would just refer to them as Boris Pavelvich. Believe it or not, this makes a huge difference in that whenever I first tried to read the book, my eyes would completely glaze over whenver somebody's name is written. Considering the first couple of scenes take place at parties where every main character is introduced, it felt like 1/3 of the written page was people's names. Yawn.

I have noticed too that in this go around, it seems to be doing a good job of curing my insomnia.

For manifold reasons, I'm down on this state. It's a mess. The politics are screwed, it's getting more and more expensive to subsist here, and it doesn't appear that it's going to get better. And after twenty or so years in the state, it could also be said that I am definately feeling a case of the "been there, done that"s. Again. Nothing really excites me anymore about this place and I find myself, once again, dreaming East Coast thoughts.

Then today, at work, in what felt like 80 degree weather, I played some lunchtime volleyball at Super Mondo's outdoor volleyball court. And once again, I remembered what the hell the point is to this crazy state.

Ain't no outdoor volleyball being played in 80 degree weather in the first week of March, no way, no how.

There's a woman at work who, let's just say, won the genetic lottery. She's blonde, blue eyed and has a Jessica Rabbit body, something that she doesn't necessarily flaunt but doesn't hide either, a trait that makes her look much classier than I'm making it out. In other words, if we are all just players in the Darwinian Tourney Pool, she's a top seed. Whenever I walk past her, trying as hard as possible not to gawk, I wonder what her dad must think when he sees her. After all, she's his precious little baby. He's also a guy. And no I don't mean it like that. What I mean is that he thinks like a guy.

So, what I'm wondering is this- when he sees his precious little baby girl, does he give himself a little mental high-five? After all, those are his genes that produced her. And does he have a little feeling of contenment knowing that with her looks, she can pretty much pick whoever she wants to marry? Doctor? Lawyer? VP of Marketing- it's evolution, remember? Or does he shake his head in worry, knowing that she could have an IQ of 180 but because of her body, she will forever be doomed because the only thing most guys will think of when they see her is what a mighty rack she has?

It appears that bears are now the new big hipster thing. In fact, you can say that beards are the new goatee. My question is how does this happen? How does it suddenly be that bears are in? Is there some sort of "hipster zero" whose decision to stop shaving inspire hipsters throughout the country to follow suit? Does he make an announcement, send out an e-mail? And if so, how do I get it? Or does he just show up at some club, probably in New York, avec beard and instantly inspire every other mail to grow a beard?

I always wanted to track something like this, you know kind of like what the CDC does in tracking a disease. Just spot a trend and try and follow it and see how it becomes a trend. There's got to be an explination.

And speaking of which, it appears that the word "nice," said with mucho gusto, is now the happening word. It is, in fact, rivaling and just might be the new "hott." It goes like this:

"I'm going to Blowfish for some sushi."
"Nice."

or

"I'm sleeping with both my roomates."
"Nice."

Again, can some linguist track this down and find out how this came to be?

While walking downtown I saw this some girl, probably high school or early college, wearing one of those message t-shirts. Across her ample and probably going to get ampler breasts (and yes, I know it's more ample but ampler sounds funnier) was this message "Trust Me, I'm a Virgin."

Somewhere, a dad cries into his pillow as he wonders what happened to his little baby girl.

Woke up and went to the corner liquor store to buy some juice and noticed that out of the four people in the store who were buying things, I was the only one not buying beer. Then went to Muddy Waters and noticed your typical tatooed thirty-something with eye piercings and tribal markings on his face playing with his four year old son while the dreadlocked and tattooed mother sat and watched.

Ahh, the Mission.

Speaking of Muddy Waters, I guess they have new ownership because the people working there have completely changed over the years. Gone are the Middle Eastern couple and the dikey tatooed counter people only to be replaced by an average looking Chinese (I think) woman. She's got no tattoos, no piercings and plays Alice or other generic Vh-1 type bands on the stero.

Isn't there a rule about that or something?