Odds and ends:

-Apparently, I parked my car a little over the line to the car next to me and took up part of the spot. When I got back from my trip, I found a note on my car basically telling me what my error was and that I should think about the fact that I'm not the only person on the planet.

Yes, that's my bad. I did a bad job parking.

That afternoon I ran some errands and parked the car in exactly the same spot, except for the fact I parked it in the spot. I wonder if the guy who wrote the note walked by and wondered if he had imagined that my car was parked over the line

-This morning somebody buzzed the buzzer to be let into the building. I didn't press on the buzzer to let him for as long as I was supposed to so the person who wanted to get in couldn't. They then buzzed me quickly and repeatedly, you know flashing a little attitude. So I'm thinking, I'm the random person in the building who is buzzing you in despite the fact I don't now you or that I shouldn't really actually be letting you in. And you're giving me attitude?

-While back, I picked up the book Eragon, the fantasy novel about dragon riders and evil empires and all that. It's going to be a movie that'll be released in a week or so. What can I say, I'm a geek. As I read through the first couple of chapters, I realized why I hate reading fantasy novels: too many references to "steely eyes" or lines like "her hair was straight and she walked with grace" or even "soon she understood everything he said and commented frequently." This book even has a weird fetish over bodily functions. I think the main reason why everbody loves "Harry Potter" is because it's one of the few fantasy books in which the writer is so obviously not taking it that seriously. Or at least shows a sense of humor.

-After watching 30 Rock tonight (it's kind of funny), I realized that Alec Baldwin is becoming the new William Shatner.

-And speaking of tv shows, I came back from the east coast with a weird desire to watch a lot of "Scrubs." I don't know why

When I was a kid, I used to love flying. It was something new and cool-- you're flying in air! Plus airplanes (and airports-- I used to love going to airports too) always meant I was going somewhere, somewhere cool. Going somewhere is always fun. As I got older and did my fair share of flying, my love of flying dissipated but I still didn't mind it. Oh, I minded the occasional claustrophia and the occasional mind-numbing boredom, but I was alright with it. And most importantly, I was never scared of flying.

Now that I'm older and should be wiser, I have come to the point where I realize I hate flying. And it's not just the lack of comfort or crappy food. And it's definately not boredom as I have way too many things to occupy my times. It's just that I am now scared to death about flying. The moment turbulence hits, I start in with the Hail Mary's and I'm not even Catholic.

Take today's flight. We had the occasional turbulence on and off but things got pretty hairy at one point. As the plane started to rumble, I told myself it can't be too bad because the fasten seat belt light hadn't gone on yet. Then it did. And then I told myself it can't be too bad because the pilot hadn't told the flight attendants to sit down and buckel up yet. Then he did. And just as I was calming down, the pilot came on to describe what was happening and that we should not only buckle up but tighten the seat belts even more than we normally would.

No, I wasn't happy.

The thing is that it's not necessarily the thought of falling out of the sky (although the scene of the plane breaking up in "Lost" did enter my mind a few times). It's more of a control thing. If we go on a roller coaster, we know it'll be over soon. Scary drive? We can always pull over. Scary ski run? We can slow down. Scary plane fight? Not one damn thing you can do about it other than pop more tranquilizers and order another bloody mary.

And sometimes that doesn't even work.

Hey look I'm posting again. Yeah, I know, I said I'd keep on posting but I've been travelling (I'm in Baltimore right now) and well, the other blog is turning into a lot more work than I thought it would. Or, actually, worrying about it takes a lot more work than I thought it would. The biggest problem I've been facing is that since I'm three hours ahead, I look at the clock and think "oh my God, it's 2 o'clock and I only have five posts up" and then I realize that it's really 11 back home and that's a reasonable number.

So anyways, my big revelation in regards to the east coast is that when you look around, it becomes obvious that people look different here. It's hard to put a finger on it but it's true. People's faces are more angular, pastier. And to cover up the pastiness, they wear not so good makeup. And they look more ethnic, more full in their features. The Italians look more Italian, the Jews Jewier and even the nerds look nerdier. And before you think I'm being biased, keep in mind I've said some unkind things about my local SF denizens. As I've said a bunch of times, hipster types and the sunlight never, ever mix.

BTW- because I have so many songs on my Itunes, I'm now getting bored with my usual random listens. So now I'm entering in a word, like "sun" and see what comes up. Hello new playlist.

So here's what's been going on lately-- my phone was ailing, sick even. Then it finally went down for good, taking with it my phone, my TiVo and my DSL.

Oh, the humanity.

It's like the worst thing ever that could happen to me. I mean, what can I do if I can't catch up on Tivo or play on the internet?

Luckily, I've been able to hop onto somebody else's wifi and while it's not quite reliable or fast, it's better than nothing. And I can live without watching my Tivo shows, although it did mean me making sure I was home Thursday night and Friday night so I could watch the only two shows I care about, "the Office" and "BSG" Because yes, it is more important for me to not miss those shows than it is for me to go out.

All I can say is that the biggest thing I'm doing on Monday is not starting SFist full time or not going to the gym in the morning, but waiting for Comcast to give me all new stuff.

Yep. I'm back. In fact, I'm going to try and make an effort to posting more frequently. Why? Because I'm unemployed again!

No, not really. I'm just working for home for at least three months as I become one of the few, the proud, the paid bloggers. Yep, three months of never having to shower, change out of pajamas, or even get out of bed and get paid for it. Yes, it's a little surreal. As is leaving your job for three months. It's kind of a goodbye, kind of not a goodbye, kind of way to be in denial, kind of a way of taking the sting out of leaving some place you were quite happy at. And a way to take the sting out of something you're not quite 100% sure you'll be going back to. But really just don't know.

So grab some coffee, sit right back, and enjoy Hooray For Anything 2.0 as I'm going to try and post at least three times a week. I kind of miss doing the personal stuff and this whole next three months should be quite entertaining. Maybe if you're lucky (but I'm not) it'll go back to Old Skool Hooray- days and days of ruminating on boredom and loserdom.

As Howard Dean would say, "yeeeeeeeeeehawwwwwww!"

It's kind of amazing in that now that I'm an editor, everybody wants me to go to there party. I've been invited to like three or four just in the past week and all for the reason that I'm now the kind of person somebody wants to have at their party. I would like to think it's because of my dazzilng writing ability and sparkling wit, but it's probably more like because I'm now somebody who somebody would like to go the party so they can say "oh, this person is going to the party" and now the party is deemed that much more hip.

Imagine that. Imagine that involving little old me.

And you know, it's kind of a dream of mine to be that kind of person. Also kind of a dream of mine to be that kind of person and to turn down those kinds of parties so I can stay home and watch Tivo.

Anyways, I went to this Litquake thing on Friday night with a bunch of local musicians and alt-rock heroes, like Jay Farrar. Al;so there was Lars Ulrich (a friend got to see Lars pick his nose!). What was interesting is that even though most of the alt-rock guys are probably not Metaliica fans and they're probably as far removed from the world of a millionaire rock star, they all stopped what they were doing to watch Lars give his little spiel onstage. They laughed at all the places they were supposed to, and clapped when they were supposed to. They were just as star struck as everyone else.

It's good to be a rock star.

Yes, it was Yom Kippur today and not only did I eat, I went to work too. No work, no pay and I's got to be paid. I did feel a little guilty this evening when I turned on my TiVoed Pardon the Interuption only to hear that Tony Kornheiser took the day off because of the holiday. That guy is such a camera whore but if he could take the day off....

While at work, I found myself taking the elevator down with just me and two coworkers who were both Jewish. It suddnely struck me that taking an elevator down in an elevator full only with Jews might not be such a good idea on this day.

So yes, I haven't posted in awhile. The past few weeks have been a little crazy and will continue to be, so I'm not sure how much posting I have left in me. The main reason for all this? Well, because as of this weekend, all of this is now mine.

Not only that, at some point, it will be mine full time, making me one of the few people actually trying to make a living at blogging. Which is kind of cool, kind of exciting, kind of awesome in a way. Let's put it this way, between having a laptop and wireless, it is possible for me to post while in bed making me one of the people who could get paid for doiing something in bed that is legal.

And why is all of this happening? As a wise man once said, when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro. I am turning pro.

Sorry for the no posting, but a lot's been going on. Big, big, big doings, in fact of which I can't yet speak of. But will soon enough.

Stay tuned.

Forgot this story--

The elevators at work are somewhat known for being a little sketchy. They occasionally have been known to break down and there are signs predominately displayed inside them letting everyone know that even though they haven't been inspected in awhile, rest assured, everything is okay. Everyone who rides them gets a little scared that they'll one day find themselves stuck in them.

Last week, I got stuck in one of them. My very first time stuck in an elevator.

The doors opened on the 2nd floor, the other people in the elevator got off, and the doors closed shut but that was it. The elevator didn't move and I was stuck there alone, inside the elevator. Now, the first thing you notice is just how small the elevator really is. And how it's where you are going to be for the forseeable future. Then there's realization that all of those elevator buttons at the bottom of the elevator, the bright red ones that are always there but you never actually use, are now something I need to use. But which one? It's not like they have training for these things, you know, like there being a video starting up when you get on telling you what to do in case of a loss of cabin pressure or something.

And then the thoughts start up. Who will know I'm here? How do I let anyone know? What happens if I have to go to the bathroom? Can this elevator really be this small?

So I press one of the buttons and the alarm sounds, ringing throughout the building letting everyone know there's a problem. Good move, right, but not without a feeling of shame in that I got all panicky and pressed the alarm button. After all, everyone else surely knows to press another button. So I press the button that says "to call in case of emergency." I hear nothing on the other end, something like "hello, are you stuck somewhere?" or even a "what can I do for you?" or "hello." Nothing. Silencio.

Not knowing what else to do, I said I was stuck to nobody in particular and pressed the button a few more times. Nothing again. Not a noise, not a peep, not a crackle of static. Huh.

Finally, after a few seconds, the elevator started to move and I made it to my floor.

I have no idea what happened. Who saved me and how. And I wasn't stuck in there for more than a minute or two, but still. It's a little scary.

That elevator is pretty small.

I don't know what my downstairs neighbors are listening to or what they're doing, but every once in awhile, my apartment thumps and thumps along to the beat of whatever they're doing. Which is fine except for the fact it feels exactly like an earthquake so everytime it starts up, my first thought is "oh, shit...it's the BIg One"

I was one of those people who were like "I don't need a cell phone. Cell phones suck and are destroying society." My cell phone went out a few days ago and it was like "OH MY GOD, HOW AM I GOING TO CONTACT ANYONE!!!!!!!!! WHAT HAPPENS IF I GET IN A CAR ACCIDENT!"

Now, I'm a believer.

And speaking of phones, I got my phone just about two years ago and the battery just wore out. It also happens to be around the time my contract is up. Coincedence? I think not. I also love how they tell you they have this offer and this offer and the phone is free and then once you purchase a bunch of stuff they start telling you about rebates and offers and filling out this form and that form and my phone's dead, what else am I going to do?

As much as I love modern technology...

Comcast switched a bunch of channels around so my Tivo got all huffy about it and made me have to redo everything. Fine. Whatever. Except because technology is the way it is, it meant that something had to go wrong and so I wound up having to spend something like 24 hours over the weekend without TV as I tried to figure out what was going wrong. I repeat: I HAD TO SPEND 24 HOURS OVER A WEEKEND WITHOUT TV.

Do you know what it's like to come home from something, turn on the TV like I always do, only to discover there was no picture? And then do you know what it's like to stare at the screen for a couple of seconds as you try and figure out what you're supposed to do? And not in the way of fixing it, which was a concern, but because you always flip on the TV when you come home and it doesn't come on and everything is not how it should be.

And then there's my cell phone. For whatever reason, the recharger isn't working as it's supposed to and it's not charging up my cell phone battery. So I'm running out battery juice. This despite the fact it's been in the cradle pretty much all weekend. Even worse, when I use it, it flashes a message that the battery is low and that I need to recharge, something I know because I've spent all weekend trying to friggin' recharge it. Shouldn't I get something just for the effort?

Also, it turns out that taking the cell phone recharger and slamming it continuously on my desk doesn't help.

So I hear they're doing a Survivor where each tribe is broken down into ethnic groups. You know, test tube experiment and social commentary on race and all that. Watch to see whether it matters or whether or doesn't and whether we can all get along and all that.

I notice, however, that they're missing one of the most obvious groups to include, that being the Jews. After all, wouldn't it be an interesting way to prove whether or not everyone really does hate the Jews?

In contuing with the theme of the week, today I had to sit through one of the most dreaded phrases in the english language- deparmtnal off-site workshop.

Yep, nothing like taking a day off in the middle of every damn deadline there is to listen to all the higher ups crack inside jokes with each other, praise a bunch of contractors for all the money they're making for the shareholders (the very same shareholders in whose name we are told the company can't afford to hire us as fulltime employees), and polite applause at just the meer appearance of a VP. Yay! I can't tell you how great it is to see such and such a person! And yes, I'll totally take you up on your offer to go out for lunch with you. I am so sure you really want to meet me.

Eh, whatever.

We'll spare everyone the gruesome details of easily the worst experience flying I have ever had as it's too long and I'm too burnt out to get into it. So, instead, I'll sum everything up.

Here are the details:

# of planes travelled on- 3
# of planes I was supposed to have travelled on- 2
# of airports- 6 (Baltimore, Greensboro, Charlotte, Vegas, Oakland, SFO)
# of times I was at SFO today -2
# of trains I was on- 4 (Maryland commuter train, BART, BART Cal Trains)
# of times I rode the SFO/Millbrae train this morning- twice
# of airlines- two
# of times I went through security- 3 (one at Union Station, at BWI, and at Vegas, the last time the full pat down)
Time I was supposed to get in last night- 7:30 (PM)
Time I got in last night- 1:30 (AM)
Airport I was supposed to arrive in- SFO
Airport I did arrive in- Oakland
Cost of taxi from Oakland to my apartment due to the fact there was no other way of getting home- $60
Amount of time stuck at the Greensboro airport- 45 minutes
Amount of time stuck at Greensboro airport runway waiting for clearance to take off- 40 minutes
Amount of time I had between landing in Charlotte and making my connection to Vegas- 2 minutes
Amount of gates I had to run through to make above connection- 10 but half of them all the way across a rather large airport
Amount of people at the front gate who had full on panic attacks when they discovered they were placed in a non-aisle seat- 1 (and no, not me)
Amount of people who were at the front gate complaining because they didn't get the first class seat they were supposed to have gotten- 1
Amount of people, including me, who were desperately trying to get onto flight but couldn't find out whether they were on or not due to above craziness- three
Amount of time I was late to work this morning- 1 hour
Amount of time after I got into work that I was thrown into a status meeting/conference call- 10 minutes
Amount of airlines who were able to track my lost luggage- 0
Amount of people for the airlines who weren't able to find my lost luggage- 3
Amount of time it took me to locate my luggage when walking into SFO this afternoon- 0 minutes
Amount of time it took it took for AAA to come and restart my car battery this afternoon at SFO long term parking- 45 minutes

And finally-

Amount of time from the moment I took a cab from the hotel in DC to when I finally got home with both car and luggage and can safely call my trip over- 36 hours.

Hell. It was pure hell.

Yes, I'm in DC right now. Let's just say this straight off about DC-- you kind of walk around and turn the corner and there, staring right in front of you, is something like the Capitol Building. And your first reaction is "wow. That's pretty cool." Which is quickly followed by a "hey, I hate those guys...."

I would also like to say that travelling with a laptop friggin rocks. So far, I've watched episodes of 24 while on the plane, checked e-mail while eating dinner at the Pittsburgh airport, and now I'm sitting here in the lobby of the beautiful Normandy Inn drinking fairly crappy coffee while surfing online. Gotta love it. I do notice, however, that several times when my mom has been looking for some information she starts digging through maps or calls people or asks people and I am scoffing at her. But mom, don't you know you can find it all on the internet....

Also, there's this. While I love the idea of having free, continental breakfast in the hotel every morning, I have noticed that said breakfast always causes more stress than necessary. Because despite the presence of hundreds of breakfast/coffee places in the immediate area, the reaction whenver there's a contintental breakfast is that no matter what, YOU HAVE TO MAKE THE BREAKFAST OR YOU WILL DIE OF STARVATION! Alarms are set to it, mornings are rushed through, showers put off just because, damnit, you have to have the free box of cereal and warmed up scrambled eggs.

Wow, just think. Right now, somebody somewhere is actually watching "Snakes on a Plane."

And thus endeth one of the great pop culture rides ever as we all know this movie is going to suck..

Anyways, so you know, you spend 38 years of your life being pretty much the same thing. Then one day, you wake up and you are suddenly attached to the words "nephew" and "uncle" suddenly attached to your name. It's a little weird. Of course, probably not as weird as being my brother and one day suddenly becoming "dad."

That's gotta be a little stranger.

Off to DC for the weekend as yes, motherfucking Jon on a motherfucking plane tomorrow.

Man, oh man "Talladega Nights" was funny. Funny, funny, funny. Like make you hiccup funny because you're laughing so hard. Just the thought of Sasha Baron Cohen saying "Ricky Bobby" in that hideious french accent or the whole prayer to Baby Jesus brings a smile to face.

I can't believe anyone wouldn't want to see it. Who would be so lame to think the movie looks dumb and pass on a chance to see it? Especially when they go see "Tokyo Drift?"

Mercy me,

Our President just ensured that no college liberal arts Major ever wanting to appear cool and deep will ever study existentialism again:

Bush reads Camus's 'The Stranger' on ranch vacation

Dear Terrorists,

Fuck you. No really, fuck you. And I don't mean because of the whole "trying to blow people up bit" because that's really wrong and you people really need to go out more. Maybe get laid even. No, I'm talking about how you keep up on coming up with sneakier ways of attempting to blow us up on airplanes, things because of you are totally going to make flying that much worse.

Like this latest stung, liquid explosives. Now, thanks to you, we won't be able to get on a plane with a bottle of water or even bring toothpaste or deodorant or juice or anything like that. We already have to take our damn shoes off everytime we go through security which is like totally the dumbest thing ever, but now we have to have some security dude go through our toiletries to confiscate shaving cream and lipstick.

Thanks a fucking lot.

If you ever contemplate using iPods as an explosive, thus ensuring the banning of iPods on airplanes I will personally come to your house and beat the living shit out of you myself.

Of course, this would all be moot if someobody would just be courageous enough to say something along the lines of "shit happens, there's nothing we can really do about stuff like this and if somebody really wanted to blow up a plane, there's nothing we can do to stop them. So, we could either make you all come onto airplanes in nothing but PJs to ensure your safety, you could do that, or you could just accept the fact that the percentages of something happening are infitesimal and while we'll do our best to secure you, you can't let the terrorists get to you by making us throw your lipstick away before boarding a plane.

Which, of course, would never happen.

Speaking of which, I was watching CNN a few weeks ago and Wolf Blitzer was in Tel Aviv reporting on how Israelis were handling the latest crisis and threats of rockets coming down upon them. As Wolf talked about all the threats and potential of rocket attacks, he intercut it with shots of Israelis going about their business as if nothing was going on-- going to the beach, shopping, eating out at cafes. So Wolf goes out there and interviews all these Israelis about how they're getting on with all of this and every Israeli he talked just pretty much shrugged their shoulders and said something along the lines of "what are you going to do about it? You can't let stuff like this scare you." And every time Wolf heard this, he'd pretty much say with every dint of incredulous "but you could be hit by rockets. WHY AREN'T YOU SCARED!!!!!??????' To which the Israeli would then repeat the same thing and say "what are you going to do about i?" This only made Wolf even more incredulous as he went around and around wondering what the hell is wrong with these people.

It is amazing what weird things pop into your head in the middle of an extremely boring and long meeting. Like one minute you're sitting there, pretending to being paying attention and trying to stay away and then the next minute you get hit with the idea of downloading Rush's "Signals" off of iTunes.

Which I did, by the way as for whatever reason, it's my favorite Rush album.

Yeah, I'm back. Don't know where I've been lately (mainly fighting insomnia and going to the gym) but I'm going to try and post at least three times a week.

How's that?

For whatever reason, people use this to find out what's going on in Me-land and without the blog, I have to come up with things to say at parties whenever asked what I've been up to. I hate doing that.

Saw this on a message board and thought it was pretty darn clever:

A world-wide survey on food shortage was conducted by the UN. The only question asked was: "Would you please give your honest opinion about solutions to the food shortage in the rest of the world?"

The survey was a huge failure...

In Africa they didn't know what "food" meant.
In Eastern Europe they didn't know what "honest" meant.
In Western Europe they didn't know what "shortage" meant.
In China they didn't know what "opinion" meant.
In the Middle East they didn't know what "solution" meant.
In South America they didn't know what "please" meant.
And in the USA they didn't know what "the rest of the world" meant

For the past couple of days, somebody has been calling my land line every half-an-hour or so and not leaving a message. Now, I no longer pick up the land line as most people call me on my cell and I usually figure that anyone who calls it is probably somebody I don't want to talk to. Like a telemarketer. But throughout all Sunday and Monday night, that sucker was ringing and ringing and ringing.

Naturally, this drove me crazy.

If it was a telemarketer, them calling every half an hour or so is probably not the best way of going about it as it's a sure fire way of pissing somebody off. If it was a friend, call on the cell. Or, more importantly, instead of calling every half an hour to see if I was there, leave a damn message.

Finally, sometime tonight, I picked up the phone just to berate whoever it was who was calling me. Who was it?

Wrong number.

A few odds and sods since I haven't posted in awhile

-I was at Safeway a few weeks ago and there was a woman behind me at the register. She was huge, like beyond fat into a whole other realm of fatness. Her entire purchase consisted of everything diet-- diet coke, diet snacks, diet frozen food. So the question is raised-- at that much fatness, how much does drinking diet coke instead of coke really matter? And really, if you want to lose weight, should you even be drinking coke?

-And yes, I enjoyed the Bush caught on tape thing as much as the next person, although I have to admit if I didn't hate the dude so much, it would be kind of endearing in a slobs vs. the snobs kind of way. On the other hand, you could totally envision how pretty much the exact second he leaves one of those summit things, all the other leaders instantly start gossiping about what outrage he had committed this time. Also, the best part wasn't him cursing or his talking while eating (seriously, did he even try to cover up his mouth? Blair seems like he's a bit on the stuffy, anal retentive streak too so you could imagine what he was thinking) was his little discussion with the guy from China about how long it would take to go home and how China is a big country and Russia is a big country too. Besides the fact it proves that even in private, he still has an amazing ability to say completely obvious, no duh things, and yet make it sound as if he was imparting some greater wisdom, he is such the Ugly American.

-Sick over the weekend and because walking the four or five blocks to the video store would be such an ordeal, downloaded episodes of 24 off itunes and started watching it. I had always heard it was a great show and everyone at the water cooler supposedly watches it (I actually don't really know anyone who does, but the bloggers love it) and all I can say is, eh, not bad. I like the gimmick and I like the plot and think it's pretty clever what they're doing. And yes, I'm into the story-line (it's the first season), but.... first of all, the whole daughter being kidnapped by frat dudes is pretty unbelievable. And yeah, I realize you need to have some sort of suspension of disbelief to watch it, but that's a little too much. As is the idea of a black guy about to be elected President (just joking). Actually, the other thing is a plane gets blown up over LA and the leading contendor for President has some sort of European hitman after him and nobody seems that panicked. Maybe a little panicked, but not that much panicked. It's more like they're all just having a bad day. Not on "Oh My God" kind of bad day.

-And finally I watched the infamous Chappelle Show skit which caused Dave to quit, the racist pixie one. If you remember correctly, Dave quit because some white guy laughed at the wrong moment and made Dave think not everyone was getting the point of his comedy. Anyways, I laughed out loud a few times during the skit. Which makes me wonder if I laughed at the right moment or the wrong one?

I hope you're all enjoying the start of WWIII as much as I have. Didn't this whole thing start off with the kidnapping of Israeli soldiers Archduke and Ferdinand? Actually, according to memebers of the Rapture Ready Web site, all of this is good. In fact, those guys are so giddy I'm about expecting all of my good Christian friends to disappear at any moment. Unfortunately, I don't know any so that'll make things a tad more difficult.

You know, it's amazing just how much the world could possibly go to hell just by the doings of one person. That one person, of course, being our President. How is that bringing safety and security to the world thing going?

And what does it say that I've spent most of the first weekend of the Apocolypse being all flu-ridden and watching Vh-1's "I Love the 70's Volume 2?"

BTW- I noticed Anderson Cooper is already in Northern Israel reporting the story. Does he have to go everywhere a story goes? Should we expect him to show up in a few days somewhere in Beirut getting shelled? Maybe one day, he'll just do a Dr. Strangelove and attach himself to a rocket being fired from somewhere. And nothing shows how lame cable news can be when something like this happens. Those transactions from death and mayhem and war to Natalee Holloway and hour-long documentaries on Brad Pitt are that more awkward.

So we're conducting a little experiment here on Blogger and possibly adding something new to the site. What the hell, I haven't changed it in almost five years.

Anyways, this photo shows just what happens to you if you go to the theater.

So I'm at a bar long after the end of the World Cup, afloat in post-Cup revelry and I'm talking to some woman at the bar. She tells me that she rooted for Italy because she hates France. Why? Because they do crazy things like protesting to have jobs that they get to keep for the rest of their lives once they leave college. And so I tell her, "what's wrong with that? Can't you appreciate the whole slacker-ness of it?"

Her reply? "Don't you believe in the American Way?"

And my reply? "Whu?"

PS- is there anything that sums up golf more than the fact that there's a tournament sponsored by an erectile dysfunction medicine? And is there anything more un-hip than turning on ABC on sunday and going "God damnit, why aren't they showing the Cialis Open instead of this soccer crap?"

While flipping through the channels one night, I saw yet another moment that seemed to sum up The Way Things Are more than anything I could think of. Even more than having ESPN shorten the TV screen during the Italy/Germany game to let everyone know Kobiyoshi beat some American dude at the hot dog eating contest.

Anyways, what I flipped past Fox News and saw Whoppi Goldberg herself debating Sean Hannity. And for a second, I thought "cool, someone smart, intelligent, and liberal is finally stepping up to take on the Seanster." And then I realized that I was cheering on Whoopi Goldberg and stopped. So Whoopi goes on and very intelligently and logically points out that liberals hatred of Bush isn't irrational, or at least is just as irrational as conservatives loathing of Bill Clinton. To wish Hannity vehemently denied and then went on a five minute rant about why he absolutely hates Clinton.

And here it is, your moment of Zen as it were: speaking up for one side is some freakish looking blowhard lame-ass celebrity who most intelligent lefty's would wish just keep their stupid mouths shut vs. a loud-mouthed idiot with not a dint that they grasp any sort of reality or self-awareness.

Because I'm now older and still trying to live young while living in a city full of older people still trying to live young, the question of when and when not to still be hip is one of major concern. Luckily, as I have never been truly hip, this dilemna doesn't really affect me that much. It does, however, affect others. To whit, when to give up on the hipster look and when to still hold true. The line between hip and pathetic, like the line between clever and stupid, is negligable.

I did, however, come to a pretty major conclusion on all of this while walking around the hood the other day: if you are in your mid-thirties and a woman, and you are wearing a fake leopard skin jacket that falls to your knees while also wearing a black t-shirt that reveals the belly rolls you have aquired from too much Pabst drinking, you might consider giving up the hipster look.

Oh wait, one more thing about the concert. As I was sitting there, this group of about three youngish granola girls walk by. From somewhere behind me, another granola woman runs up to them and gives a hug to one of the three women. Guess they hadn't seen each other in awhile. Anyways, they sit down next to me and start talking. Sadly, I didn't hear all of the conversation and missed a lot of the best parts, but here's what I do remember. And it doesn't really matter what I missed out, anyways, because the fragments I heard pretty much say it all:

"Alison, this is my friends Ariel and Amber....we met in Mexico...I just got back from Guatamela...hiked in Peru...she's in Mexico right now...there's an election there tomorrow....and she's in Palestine working for some art colloborative....it's totally non-confrontational-- they try and show the conflict through the eyes of the artist...the community garden is doing great...I haven't seen him since we were at Toby's place that one night for dinner where we stayed up all night and planted beets....Oh, he's traveling America I think just selling things and, you know, planting beets....he's going to stay with an art colloborative in Santa Fe...I love their community garden...."

And just another San Francisco Saturday....

Running some errands, I go into Wahlgreen's and came out only to see a funeral procession drive by. It was for some kid, a victim of gang-related violence. As his friends all drove by in their souped up cars, honking their horns, they all shouted "R.I.P" and wore the victim's face on their t-shirts. I finally crossed over and went by the 16th Street BART station. On the bench by the station was another whacked out probably homeless woman, sitting there all spaced out, with what looked like a nip showing. It was, fully out there for everyone to see. I know because I walked by and saw it-- I couldn't look away. And no, not because I'm a guy and I wanted to see some boobie, but mainly because the whole thing was already a car wreck and I had to see just how awful the car wreck was.

And from there, I went off to Dolores Park to see the SF Opera Symphony play some opera free for the crowds. It was a beautiful day, the Park was crowded, and the music was, well, it was opera. Make that of you will. It being in Dolores Park, however, the crowd didn't quite look like normal opera crowds. Let's just say that it was one more event that just went on to prove that not only is the Mission made up of some of the most unattractive people, but that hipsters just don't do well in the sun.

So yes, you got it...gangland funeral, boob baring smack-head, and opera. All within a couple of blocks from each other.

Now how about that?

Oh, one more thing, next to my friend and I at the park were bike messenger/homeless guy types. You know, haven't showered in awhile, ratty hair, all in black-- that type. As soon as they settle down, they start smoking dope. Why not, it's a concert? Second thing they did was open up a plastic container of Tofurkey and make a little picnic out of it. Cause, yep, here in SF, our grungy homeless types are veggie.

I never thought I'd ever say this, but here goes--- Go France.

Two things-

1)I have seen the future of TV and it's name is "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia." It's kind of Kevin Smith meets Larry David, a slacker "Curb." So far, they've made jokes about old people, terrorists, child molestors, and Nazis. And in tonight's episode, the cast members all pretended to be crippled as a way to party with strippers.

The show gets bonus points to for referencing WaWa and filming a scene at the "Mall," otherwise known as the King of Prussia Shopping Mall

2)So the Republicans are up to their usual tricks and busting out all the "cultural" issues out of desperation. Out comes gay marriage, flag burning, and NY Times bashing. As they have since, God, like forever. And as usual, it always kind of works as the Democrats just kind of cower in a corner, don't put up much a fight and wind up getting their butts kicked. You would figure after awhile that it would stop working with the American Public, but, well nevermind. You would also figure out that after having this happen to them for at least twenty years, the Democrats would figure out a way of not looking bad in all of this. It's pretty much like the Republicans are saying "hey, we're going to pass the ball on this play just like we did the past five plays" and the Democrats still defend against the run. Yeah, for some reason, the Democrats seem to think that if they got up there and spoke logically and about laws and facts and Bill of Rights and all that, it would work, but that never works.

So what to do? Put up a fight, try and debate. Or they could do a little jujuitsu and say "okay, let's amend the Constitution" and freak out all the Republicans who are really doing it for political purposes. But no, that might not work. So in my head, my little fantasy goes like this: the debate starts up on flag burning and one by one, all the Democrats just march out of the Senate and pretty much tell everyone that they're not going to hang out there and play all the Republicans stupid games no more. Then they give some huge press conference where they list all the things they'd rather talk about (health care, the war, pretty much everything).

Yeah, kind of weenie and lame, but what else is there to do?

Driving home tonight from seeing Fast & Furious 3: Tokyo Drift (that's a shout out to my homies), I noticed that I had trouble seeing what was going on around me due to those stupid halogen lights that cars don't have. For instance, I'd look behind me to see if there is a car coming in the lane next to me (I'm such a careful driver) but can't really tell because there's this huge spotlight going right into my eyes. Not only am I blinded, but I can't tell how far they are because the lights are so bright it looks like thery're right in back of me.

And it occured to me, those halogen lights pretty much sum our country up. First off, the main reason people get them isn't necessarily because they're good, but because it's a new fangled car gadget. It's headlights, but up to 11. People love their new fangled car gadgets, even if they aren't necessary. That way Joe Bob can say, "yep, and it came with halogen lamps."

But mainly it's because they're bad for almost every other car out there. But people use them because it allgedly makes it safer for the rider. So, in essence, it's basically a bunch of people who drive them saying this maybe bad for you, but it's good for me so screw you. Et viola, our economic, environmental, and foreign policy.

And continuing on the theme of what a crazy city...

Left my apartment Saturday night to go meet a friend for dinner. As I got onto Valencia Street, Dykes on Bikes rode by. The minute they started honking and whooping and hollering, every lesbian in the area-- which was a lot considering it was Pink Saturday-- dropped what they were doing to check them out. I'm serious, it was a little scary, actually. Wee ha!! Fat, naked, mohawked clad lesbian ta-tas! (And let me just say that was even less attractive than I made it sound. Which I think is kind of the point, but still).

Then went to dinner at a middle eastern place and sat next to a Moslem lady wearing the Moslem head gear.

God love living in a world-class city.

What an amazing day today is, one of those days that makes you love living in a city like San Francisco. In the foreground, I can see a pink triangle on top of Twin Peaks in honor of this being Pride weekend. In the distance, I can heear honking horns and the cries of "Ole!" as Mexico and Argentina play in a nail biter of a World Cup game. The gays are celebrating, the Mexicans are celebrating and the sounds of it are everywhere.

In other words, it's a Republican nightmare, come true.

For various reasons, I came home from work today with an extra salami sandwhich. My boss, who ordered it for me, told me I should have it dinner. I wasn't that hungry. So when I parked my car in the garage across the street from me, I decided to give it to a homeless person. Walking out of the garage, I see some whacked out lady sitting across the alleway from me with an even more whacked out dude lying next to her. I give her the sandwhich.

Yay me.

But then, as I give her the sandwhich, she starts trying to talk to me. To tell me she's not like this and in fact, better than this. Now here's the thing, as much as I want to give her the sandwhich, I also don't want to talk to her. I, in fact, just want to give her the food and walk on my merry way. I do not want to engage the homeless person in conversation. She is engaging me in conversation. The thing is too that I'm not exactly scared of the homeless person or freaked out (well, maybe a little) it's just that I want to get home and not spend my precious time hanging out in a grungy alley way talking to two drugged out bums. And it is also obvious that the person I gave the sandwhich too is coming down off of something. I might be willing, actually, to talk to someone if they were up for interesting and fun conversation, but she is full blown coming down off probably crack or heroin. Her partner is half-asleep and lying down. I do not think this is going to be the kind of conversation that one reads in a New Yorker short story. I want to go home.

I mean, what am I going to say? Talk to her about the Giants? See what she thought of last week's "Deadwood?" To be polite in this situation, one is supposed to ask how one is doing. I know how she's doing, she's on drugs and sleeping on the streets. I do not want to know more. What am I supposed to say if she tells me how she's doing "oh, that's great." Or "oh, that sucks, I'm sorry," which I guess would be more okay to say except for the fact she's the one who put herself into that position in a way and while I'm sorry she's in that situation, my sympathy isn't all that.

But then she proceeds to tell me exactly how she's doing. She grew up in Baton Rouge. She's 39 and used to be a nurse. And she's got five children. Ages 22-13.

Now I really want to get out of there. I do not want to know anymore. I do not like hearing heartbreaking stories about some poor family of children whose mother is excited to be handed a half-day old salami sandwhich from a kind-hearted but a little freaked out high-tech worker in an alley off 16th & Mission.

Oh, and one more thing. How does one exactly get out of a conversation with a drugged out homeless person? "Oh, I gotta go meet a friend? You know, one whose not nodding off next to you?" Or "Geez, I gotta meet my friend and get some nice expensive dinner that you'll never afford because even if you got the money, you'd spend it on smack?"

But I figure a way out and slowly, not without a few curtain call comebacks, make my way out of the alleyway.

Oh, one more thing.,, as I was leaving she asked me for money.

Brought in all my loose spare change that's been collecting for years today. Total amount back to me? $120.

It's like winning in blackjack. All over again.

And here's what I said earlier about the big loss today:

"I hate to say it, but as much as it sucked to see the U.S. lose, you have to be happy at least it was to Ghana. Basically any country that throws national holidays for winning a World Cup match probably deserves it more than we, the country that actually has something called NASCAR Nation, does. And it’s not like they have much of anything else going for them and I don’t mean that in a snotty kind of way, I just mean that it’s not like Bono is running around trying to save our asses."


And yeah, the bummer of it is that a lot of the mainstream, old school sports guys, the one's who only care about the World Cup when America is in it will go back to ignoring it and making snide comments about soccer when they're completely missing the absolute fun that the rest of the Cup has been.

I'm not going to say anything for fear I might jinx tomorrow's big soccer match (which is probably over by the time you've read this) so let's just say this....

Go Ghana.

Note- this is because if I said the opposite, will then the opposite would happen. Unless, of course, I've just overthrought this and double-jinxed myself in such a way what I just asked for will come true, in which case, ooops

So you know the problem with the President hitting 29% approval is that there's no way to get back from that. Right now he's still at around 37% and even though months ago, that would have made me happy, that's now nothing but disappointing. Of course, the reality is he should be around -5% but I don't think that's stastically impossible.

It's especially problematic in that the new storyline is the whole "Bush is having a good week" thing, as if all the things that are going on in the world are all only about Bush's popularity. I'm sure the people in New Orleans and Baghdad are thrilled the President is having a good week. And you still here it despite the fact he's gone from like 36% to 37%.

I think basically that this whole Bush era is like one big, long nightmare, the kind of nightmare where you see things happen and feel completely powerless to stop it. That's where we are, the country is broken and there's nothing anyone can do about it.

I have seen the Rolling Stones do "You Can't Always Get What You Want" live in concert. I have also seen GnR do "Sweet Child o Mine." You can also add to that list U2 doing "Streets" and "One" and you name the classic U2 song. I can also claim to have Radiohead doing "Fake Plastic Trees" and the Dead doing "Truckin'" and motherf----- Rush do "Tom Sawyer."

But on Saturday, I saw the one thing to top them all... Mickey Thomas's Starship do "We Built This Rock."

And you know what? They were strangely rocking at the North Beach Festival. Just sloppy enough to be good, although I have no idea whether they were sloppy on purpose or sloppy because how often does Mickey Thomas and Starship play anymore?

Also, the sad thing was I knew all eight songs that he song, all from those somewhat horrific early 80's Starship albums. Hell, at one point, I even owned one of them. Hell, I even have one of them downloaded onto my computer.

And yes, I have soccer fever. This weekend I've watched about ten hours of it, six hours of it today (all done while mainly in my bed recovering from a hangover). Yesterday, I went to North Beach yesterday morning to watch the Italy/US game and met up with friends at Gino & Carlo's and settled in to watch the game. It was one of the most epic, enjoyable, dramatic games I've been a part of watching (up there, actually with the England/Argentina game in '98), I mean, it had it all- a comeback, a clear-cut villian (the Italians), several dramatic plot twists, and then the killer- Beasley's disallowed goal. When that ball went in, everyone was jumping around and high-fiving and right in the middle of it, I noticed the Beasley was looking totally distraught and I remember turning to my friend and asking him if he scored did he look so upset? And then the 2 that was on the screen turned back to 1, and well, that's how it stayed. I've seen a lot of sports (a lot) but I've never had that sense of a bunch of people putting themselves on the line as much as the Americans did. That's the thing about soccer, it's all pretty much laid out there for everyone to see. No time-outs to break things up, no endless stops in the play-- it's just running and running and chasing and tightly wound faces.

The other thing about the match is that when you think about it, we, as Americans, or at least globally conscious Americans, don't really get that much of an opportunity to actually root for our country in anything. In every other sport, we're pretty much the 100 pound gorilla. It's either our sport (baseball or basketball) or we have million dollar programs backing the players up. Oh, and the best drugs money can buy. And then, of course, on a global level, it's hard to root for anything we do because, well, we kind of suck on a global level right now. But not in soccer. We are plucky underdogs. We are not annoying. We are something it's easy to get behind and root for. Sure, at some point it'll be inevitable that we'll turn into 100 pound soccer gorillas (too much money in the country and too many immigrants coming into the country), and the rest of the world kind of knows it, but right now, it's fun to root for us. It's maybe the only thing we could do that makes you say "America, fuck yeah" and not feel like a moron.

And the fact that most of the country doesn't care...well, we do suck as a country right now, don't we?

PS- so yeah, there was a "great" NBA final game tonight. The dudes across the way, the one's who always keep me up because of their partying, wheeled a TV outside and watched it in the courtyard. And you know what? Bleh. Whatever. Do that game over, except have one team be down a player for half the game. And one of the teams be a bunch of whiny divas who flop everytime somebody breathes to close to them. And do it without time outs or TV timeouts and so they final five minutes don't take half an hour to play.

Quick hits from the weekend

-Because I'm about to turn 38, it totally makes sense that I spent a large part of this night downloading Iron Maiden tunes. And speaking of which what does it say that while in the store shopping, a song came on the radio and I knew instantly that it was Christina Aguilera?

-Being on a hot streak while playing black jack turns out to be a bit more stressful than I thought it would be. Every time I won, while happy, I kept on thinking that this hot streak has to end at some point. The more I won, the more I amazed I was and the more sure I was that the bottom was about to fall out.

-Yes, I do have World Cup fever. I love the World Cup even if for the first time in like twelve years, I am actually working at the time of the World Cup (although it's looking like I'll have take a day off to cover it for Deadspin). In fact, the scary thing about all this is I was actually doing this blog in '02 the last time there was a World Cup and for whatever reason, that BLOWS MY MIND.

Anyways, today's defeat by the Americans blow for all sorts of reasons. It's not like I expected them to win, nobody did, but it would have been nice to put a nice showing together. Among other things, it makes it harder to get into the team if they suck. Plus, wasn't this supposed to be the best American team ever? Aren't we supposed to be plucky and hard working? We most definately were not.

-I have become fascinated with the new Real World/Road Rules Challenge. In this version, "alumni" of the shows, meaning the biggest camera ho's in the RW/RR Challenge world compete against "fresh meat." "Fresh meat" are basically people who so desperately wanted to be on one of these things that they tried out to appear on it. In other words, you know how people watch say baseball games and dream of being in a game and hitting a hugely important home run or doing any other sort of thing baseball players do? Well, these people have the same dream. Except their dream is to be on an MTV reality show. And not just any reality show. After all, one could make a case that there is something understable to being on a dating show or "Made" or, hell, even the "Real World" (well, mainly the early seasons when there was at least a half-hearted attempt to show people having normal existences). But these people want to appear on the Challenge. These are people who are really excited about the idea of seeing Tonya or Theo. Or "hooking up" on camera. Or getting in all of those little nasty fights that often appear on the show. These people want to get tangled up with Coral or exchange crazy-ness with Tonya. And may we even add that for whatever reason, these are people deemed not good enough to appear on "the Real World" so they get shunted off to the challenge show.

It goes without saying these people need to be sent to Iraq.

So how is your Tuesday night going? Having a lot of fun? Doing a lot of interesting things?

You know what I'm doing? I accidently deleted over half of my mp3s over the weekend. That's a little over 500 songs. So I'm basically spending all of my time re-uploading everything.

And it's not as easy as you think. See a bunch of my mp3s I got through the magic of iTunes. Some of them are based off of cds that I have. And a lot of them, my creme de la creme of mp3s I got through, well, let's just say non iTunes methods. And these are some of my favorite songs too. Stuff like Rush's "Working Man" or "Ain't Talking Bout Love" the Quad City DJ's "Come on Ride the Train" (!). All gone.

And while some of it's easy to get back, a lot of what I had were pretty obscure. You know the songs that just randomly pop up every once in awhile, bootleg type stuff. Like, say, Zeppelin from a '69 music festival.

All gone.

d'oh.

Yes, I stole this idea, but....

National Review's attempts at coming up with 50 Conservatives has pretty much changed how I look at music. Things that I didn't know were conservative, such as the Sex Pistols "Bodies" suddenly appear in a whole new light. It's just a new matter of how I look at things.

So I began to think, maybe even some of my favorite songs are actually conservative in nature. Maybe my favorite songs aren't soulful songs bespeaking the progessive heart, but actually reactionary tunes calling for family values! So I opened up my iPod and hit the first 10 songs I heard and, OH MY GOD, they are conservative! It's all in how you look at it.

Here they are, with my new interpretation. I'm pretty sure my membership to the Young Republic Party should be fairly forthcoming.

The Police- Everything She Does is Magic
Notice this song definately does not say "Everything He Does is Magic." That's because love can only truly be between a man and a woman.

The Beatles- Let It Be
Everyone thinks that "Revolution" is the great anti-revolutionary tract, but this song really is. See, in it's simple plea of letting things be, what Paul McCartney is singing about is the desire for things to be left alone and not to be changed by activist judges.

Primus- Too Many Puppies
You want to know why there's too many puppies? Because who would want to abort puppies? There might be too many puppies, but too many puppies is so much more preferable than too many aborted puppy fetuses.

NWA Straight Out of Compton-
See liberals would make you believe that the only way out of Compton is thorugh big government and racial recriminations. But as this song shows, the only way out of Compton is to work hard, save, adhere to traditional values and lower capital gains taxes.

Ratt- Lay It Down
Listen to these lyrics: "I know you only want romance/I'll give you all that I can/If you'll give me just one chance/To prove myself and my love". You know what this song is really about? Abstinence. What do you think they mean when they say "romance?"

Tool- Hooker With a Penis
I can't figure this one out and why it would be conservative. Maybe because it's about Anne Coulter.

Montel Jordan This is How We Do It
Cut taxes, bash gays and Mexicans, invade foreign countries without international support....this is how WE do it.

Cake- Mr. Mastadon Farm
Evolutionists would say that Mastadon's lived in a time very long ago when man was barely evolved. But if that was true, how could there be a Mastadon farm? The only way there could have been a farm would have been if the world was created by God in six days.

99 Problems Jay-Z
You want to know why Jay has 99 problems but his bitch aint' one of them? Because by having a wife and a family, he is truly living up to God's blessing and showing correct family values.

Soundgarden Blow Up the Outisde World
I don't think there's ever a better to song to describe our proper response if somebody hates our freedoms.

I went river rafting on the South Fork of the American River over the weekend and had a little adventure. And it goes something like this....

We hit this rapid called Satan's Cesspool, one of the rougher rapids on the river, maybe the roughest of them. So much so, the guides all talked about it before-hand as if it was a major challenge and something we absolutely, positively, had to nail just right or bad things would happen.

Whatever. I wasn't really that scared or worried because I've done that particular rapid about five times before and haven't had any problems with it. The only time I've fallen out, "gone swimming" as they say, was at another rapid and I don't particularly remember it being that scary. Scary to my dad and the river guide, but not me.

Anyways, I'm on a boat with seven rowers and one guide. I'm on the back of the boat, on the right side. We hit the main part of the rapid and pretty much make it free and clear and as we pass the rock in which the photographer is stationed, I silently give a "phew" and relax a bit, knowing the worst part of it was over and it was just a matter of bouncing off a few waves from here on out. Later, everyone tells me they thought the same thing.

We were wrong. I'm not exactly sure what happened next or what caused it all-- nobody on the boat could figure it out and everyone has different recollections of what happened-- but I remember we came off a wave while a bit on our side-- nothing too terribly off-- when it felt like we just stopped and the right side of the boat began to rise up out of the water.

What we think happened was that we hit an eddy on the way down and it was like being stopped in mid motion. Picture a skier sailing down a hill only to hit a branch or a root or something that makes them come to a complete standstill and figure out the physics of it all. So our boat started to rise on up to the right side as the left side started to get lower and lower into the water. People behind us said that it looked like just, out of nowhere, we just popped out of the boat.

Now I'm on the back side of the boat and on the side that's rising up out of the water. And I see all of this happening in slo mo as it were. As we go up, the first thought in my head is "huh, this is kind of weird. We shouldn’t be flipping.” My second thought, which comes to me as the boat is now almost on it's side, is that it was like in "Titanic" where the boat starts sinking and everything starts flying towards the water because at this point I start seeing things fly from my side of the boat into the water. Including the guy sitting in front of me and a few people on my left. I mean, I literally did see the guy who was sitting in front of me just fly out of his seat and land in the water.

It is at this point where I realized that I'm about to go in myself.

Boom, I go, into the water, and go under.

Now I have a life vest on and I'm not in that deep, but once I try to begin my ascent back up, at this point completely calm, I realize I can't necessarily go back up. I try to push myself up a few times but get nowhere. The eddy is holding me down.

Huh.

My thoughts when I realized I wasn't going to be able to go back up? "Huh, shouldn’t I be able to swim back up?"

After what felt like a few seconds and was probably a lot less, I finally manage to come up and try to get my first big breath after being under the water. But as I start to take a breath in, a huge wave came and slams into me so that I wind up swallowing as much water as air. I try and gain my bearings only to realize that I'm pretty much still in the shit as it were and all I could see coming at me was wave after wave after wave. I can't really see anything other than the waves-- no boat, no shore, no nothing-- and I can only really hear the rush of the rapids. To make matters worse, I'm starting to realize that it's going to be hard to breathe in all of this because water is flying everywhere and the one thing I don't want to do is swallow a wave. Now I start to feel a bit panicky.

I flutter around a bit in the rapids, trying to get into position (on your back, feet first) but not being really successful at it as the current is pushing me everywhere. And I'm having catching my breath not just because the water is splashing everywhere, but because the water is also butt cold-- we were given wet suits before starting in fact. I am not a happy camper.

Then I see it, a kayak. One of the rescue kayaks in fact, used by the rafting company to fish people out of the water in case people need to be fished out. Holding onto one side of the kayak is one of the guys on my boat, the person on the center left. Either he calls to me or the kayak dude does but once I see it, I start swimming for it, knowing that this is pretty much my rescue.

I approach the kayak only to get a little confused as what to do next. The kayak isn't that big and one guy is already on one side so I start to go to the other side. The kayaker, however, sees this, and starts yelling at me to go to the back. I don't. It's a friggin' kayak, what is the front and what is the back? I swim to the wrong side and the kayaker pretty much grabs me and shoves me to the other side where I see a rope attached to the back and hold on. That makes two people hanging on.

Somebody else from the boat floats by, a tiny Chinese woman who looks kind of like the famous Scream figure from the Munch painting, all shock and freezing cold. The other guy who is holding on reaches out and grabs onto her. So there are now three people holding onto the kayak.

I am not sure the kayak is supposed to have three people holding onto it. There is no room for the three of us. I find myself drifting away from the back towards the side, something I am told not to do by the kayaker, but I can't help it. As this is going on, however, a huge wave hits the kayak, followed quickly by another, bigger wave. The wave lifts up the kayak and starts pushing it onto it's side and I hear the kayaker yell out "I'm going to flip!"

Now I was a little scared up til this point. Now I am really scared. After all, if the person who is coming to rescue you suddenly finds themself needing to be rescued, what does that do the people who needed rescuing in the first place? If the kayaker goes over, I'm thinking not necessarily that I'm fucked, but more like it's now up to Plan B and I have no friggin clue what Plan B would be.

But somehow, the kayak steadies. He doesn't get flipped. And as we all breath a sigh of relief, the kayaker finally feels steady enough to push out and he starts paddling us out of the rapids. At the end of them, he sees another one of our boats and heads over to them. As we get close, I let go of the kayak and swim up to the raft where a group of hands reach out to pull me in. I want to help them, to try and push myself up, to be strong, but I can't. I have nothing left. I surrender to what's going on and let them pull me up.

I am safe.

The raft quickly heads to shore and a bunch of concerned faces look over me asking me if I'm allright. One of the guys on the raft later tells me the look on my face was somewhere along the lines of "had just seen God." I also see the Chinese woman on the other side of the raft, still in shock, pale white and wide-open mouth. The people on the raft not taking care of me are holding onto her, hugging her, trying to get her to snap out of it. I finally sit up as we approach the shore and catch my breath. The second we hit sand, I fly off the boat, take off my helmet, and plop myself in the sun, trying to dry myself.

Now, I know "swimming" while rafting isn't that uncommon. Out of six boats that went down the rapids at the point, three of them lost people. Carnage, they call it. One boat lost everyone but one rower, the poor lady finding herself the only person on a raft still shooting through the rapids with the guide still in the water trying to get back to the boat. And some people, even on my boat, had a fairly easy time of it. They quickly found another raft and hopped on in. But not me. I went under, lost my breath, got rescued by a kayak, almost lost the kayak, and then was lifted into another raft.

Pretty hairball, as they say.

Now this is what you call a Hemingway moment, a moment to show the biggest thing of them all, Grace Under Pressure. I would like to say that in my Hemingway moment, I exuded nothing but Grace Under Pressure. But I did not. I didn't get into proper swimming position. I got grabbed by the kayaker because I went to the wrong side. And I was partially responsible for the almost losing of the kayak. All this in comparison to another guy on my raft, the one who grabbed the Chinese woman and helped steady the kayak. I showed no Grace Under Pressure.

But on the other hand, I am here, typing this now. And isn't grace under pressure, when it comes down to it, merely surviving? I mean, I lived, so whatever I did, I must have done something right because I made it through.

And not only that, the next morning I got up and rafted again. Scared shitless enough to seriously think about bailing and going home. But I did it. And after a few bits of white knuckling through white water, somewhere around the time we hit the hole we shouldn't have hit and almost got thrown again if it weren't for emergency measures we had to take and which made it so we got through the rapids, I got my mojo back. I want to do it again. Except hopefully this time, there will be no swimming.

Okay, so you discover that your Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great Grandfather was Jesus. What do you do? Do you just keep it quiet and try to live a normal life, all the while knowing that you hold like the biggest secret in the history of the world? Try not telling that secret when your drunk. And how do you go back to the real world if you know that. Just imagine being at work and totally hating your job and getting bitched at by your boss. You gotta be thinking "Fuck that, I'm a descendant of Jesus. I'm outta here."

Or do you do the full Oprah, reality show, party circuit thing? That's gotta be fun, but imagine the pressure. Get caught drunk on camera or snogging some dude and it's "Mary Magdaline's Grand Daughter is a Tramp" headlines. Imagine the crazies coming out of nowhere asking to be healed or blessed or endorsement for political office. Wouldn't you want to call up all the people who screwed you over in some ways and lord it over them too? You know, like the boss who fired you at Starbucks? "Yeah, hello, Jenna? Well, guess what. I'm the daughter of Christ. Yep, that's right. And you know what? Your going to hell." Wouldn't that be fun?

Either way, you got major pressure on you to have children. And considering that people are trying to off the blood line, lots of children. You basically gotta start spawning as fast as you can. That's pressure right there. And what about all the ex-boyfriends? You'd think they'd be all stoked, you know, like "dude, I nailed Jesus' granddaughter" but, instead, they'd probably be thinking "oh dear, God, I am so going to hell for doing that with her and that night in the backseat of the limo? Totally fried." Or imagine if you were the ex-boyfriend and you cheated on her. Imagine the guilt about that. And don't even get me started if you had an "experimental phase" in college. That's so going to cause problems with the Vatican.

Yes, I just saw "The Da Vinci Code," why do you ask?

Is it wrong that when I was at Safeway this evening buying groceries, I got into what looked like a pretty short line and seeing that the person in front of me was a feeble, very old lady, got out of the line and went searching for any other line that wasn't too long and not holding feeble, old people?

Unfortunately, I couldn't find another lane so went back into the lane and, yes, it did take forever.

So last week, our congress held hearing on a gay marriage ban, voted to make English the official language of America, decided to build a wall on the border, while in another hearing, somebody who is responsible for illeagally monitoring our phone messages announced he couldn't talk about any of it and got thumbs up from Republicans who couldn't care less.

In other words, it had to be one of our finer moments as a democracy.

I was kept up til 4 this morning because my courtyard neighbors decided to throw a party in the courtyard, which they've done a few times. It occured to me last night as I was being blasted by stereo speakers that sounded as if they were parked right outside my window, that most people who throw parties make at least a half-hearted attempt to not be noisy. They have it inside, for instance so they can at least say that there was some buffer between stereo and neighbors and party-goers are not quite outside where noises tend to echo and echo around. Out in the courtyard, as there's no buffer, there's not even the pretense of trying to not be noisy. And then I started to think about everyone else in my apartment building and the one next door and the ones next door to the apartment complex that held the party (it had to be the complex itself because the people in the rest of the complex had to have agreed to it) and the two buildings that are to the left and right of the courtyard also were pretty much deluged with noise and music and crowd noise too and were probably lying in bed too and wondering just who the genius was who followed up a bunch of Motown tunes with Lou Reed tunes on the party playlist.

Now, I've been to my fair share of parties. And I've thrown a few myself. I consider myself as somebody pretty allowing of neighbor's to have their occasional fun. I am also one of those people who hates people who complain about city noise, like trains or bells or clubs, and feel that if you live in the city, you have to expect a certain level of noise. But was last night's party a bit, umm, too excessive?

Or am I turning into an ever crankier old man?

More quick takes from somebody who hasn't been feeling the blogging lately

-Between Margie getting in trouble with Nikki, poor Vito on "the Sopranos" and the last fifteen minutes or so of "the Office," it's been one long, week of cringe on TV. I actually couldn't watch part of "the Office," the bit when Michael's two dates ran into each other, and the last five minutes or so, woo-hee.

I need to start watching something less stressful. Like "24".

-So yes, so far while driving I've cursed out my first fellow driver (for tail gaiting on a completely empty four-lane highway at 12:30 at night), gotten cursed at (for sort of crossing while yellow, but it had just turned yellow and it wasn't fair for me to get it considering three cars followed me across), been honked at for a near miss (totally my fault-- I totally missed seeing someone while merging onto an off-ramp), and had my first heart pumping "what the hell?" moment when some car in front of me on the 101 couldn't decide which lane to go into and went to and fro two lanes without signaling. The thing I'm waiting for most hasn't happened yet (well, other than being stranded on the 101 while waiting for AAA) is to get yelled at by a biker. I know that's coming at some point because those suckers do appear out of nowhere. And I really don't want that to happen because as somebody who used to bike to work, I was the one who was getting cut off by drivrers. I don't want to be that driver.

-Jaywalkers really piss me off. It's not just that some of them kind of lollygag across the street as if there's nothing at all wrong or dangerous about walking across the street right into upcoming traffic, it's the one dude who instead of running across the street, decided to stand in the middle of traffic and play traffic cop so as not to be hit. Dude, if you don't want to not be hit, don't stand there and try and make eye contact-- RUN.

-I was at the cafeteria at work and it became apparent that one of those co-workers who I don't talk to that much (my bad, not them) and I were about to get in line together to ring up the cash register. But when it became apparent, they ambled over to the fridge and pretended to look inside for a drink. In other words, they totally dawdled so as to not get stuck in the line together and make small talk. How do I know they did that? Because that's MY move.

-I know I harsh on "Lost" a lot and I shouldn't considering how great it's been lately and how much fun it is to read through people's Web sites in which they dissect the clues, but here's one more thing that I wish the show did better- trippiness. Considering how much weird things happen on the show, it should be totally whacked out and surreal. But it's not. It needs to be more "Twin Peaks" and it's not. If there was anything "Twin Peaks" did better than anything, was make your jaw drop and bring the goose bumps because it was so well done in it's surrealness. It was trippy as all hell. That's what "Lost" needs to be like.

Or maybe it was because "Twin Peaks" aired while I was in college and more susceptible to trippiness?

-Yesterday was one of those beautiful, cloudless, warm days we rarely get, the kind of day that reminds you that you actually do live in California and this is the way it's supposed to be. The reason why California is what it is. I went with a friend to meet up with other friends to go to the Giants game, a game they won by scoring 4 runs in the ninth inning to beat the hated Dodgers. Afterwards, we spilled out to a new bar partially owned by Sammy Hagar himself to drink margarita's, and then headed off to Gordon Biersch where we managed to somehow score a table in the outdoor patio. Safely ensconced there, we hung out for four hours or so, until dark where we sat and watched the Kaboom from the comfort of our own seats. While the Bay Bridge obscured our view, we were still close enough that the fireworks almost looked directly above us. And from our cozy little seats, there's something more dramatic about the fireworks when it's obscured like that. From where we sat, we saw people who were milling about, stop what they were doing to watch. We watched as the N Judah continued on with it's run right underneath the explosions and cars above on the bridge drive past. And then, towards ten or so, almost twelve hours from when I set out, I made it home.

Everyone once in awhile, you get a day like that, one in beautiful weather and a large collection of friends and something special like a Giants game and fireworks show and you realize once again what an amazing place San Francisco is and just what a great gem of a place it is.

I hear a voice in the distance, whispering to me. It's fairly distant but sweet, and full of visions of peace and traniqulity and things put back to where it's supposed to be and karma restored and balance being restored to the force and it sounds like this: Al Gore in 2008.

Turned on SNL last night and like a lot of people, I watched his opening bit and was, well, struck. More so than the Colbert bit. You know how in all those sci-fi tv shows there's an episode where somebody from the future goes into the past and changes everything to make things worse for everyone because they're evil? That's what the past six years have been like. We need somebody from the future, a James T. Kirk figure if you will, to come and make things right.

Or, it's more like this. You know how sometimes in the middle of the night, when it's you and your psyche, and you wake up with the cold sweats dreaming of visions of What Could Have Been and What Should Be? You know, when you realize that if you just did this instead of that, you're life would be totally different and better and maybe in truth, it wouldn't be and the grass is always greener but still? That's Al, right now. The one who got away.

And if Al were to run again? Well, how many times do you get to correct the biggest regret of all?

That's what this country needs to do, to just fall prostrate in front of his Al-ness and beg forgiveness.

Only, until then, maybe, will this darkness pass.

A few odds and sods and sorry for the no posting- crazy week. Did you know I got a car?

-I have become really into "Big Love" and I'm not sure why. After reading through a bunch of blogs and talking to friends and family, a lot of people have been saying the same thing, they're all really into it but nobody really knows why other than it's totally fascinating. My theory about why I was into it was mainly because Margie (Ginnifer Goodwin) had become my TV girlfriend. I was also convinced that I was the only who had stumbled onto her beautifulness, thus leaving her to me. I was wrong. It turns out she's now de rigueur TV girlfriend for the bloggerati as she's everywhere these days.

-I am supposed to be psyched about the new Superman movie but I am not. In truth, I was never into superheroes, Superman least of all. What was the fun in being into home? He was indestructible, faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, blah, blah, blah. The only that could weaken him was kryptonite. All of which made him boring. Who wants to root for somebody who is kind of perfect and can't really be harmed? Oh sure, he's got that identity problem and his unfulfilled love for Lois Lane but don't you think the ability to fly around the world in seconds flat would take some of the sting out of that?

For the record, the only superhero I really liked in any sort of way was Spiderman because he was always kind of human and vulnerable, which is why the movies have been so good (well, the first one not so much, but the second one was really, really good).

-Somebody weighs in on the great Enterprise vs. Death Star debate and goes with the Death Star. Phooey on them. The Enterprise would win just because it has the one thing greater than the Dark Side, greater than the Force even- James T. Kirk.

-This morning, I got spam mail from one company saying my student loans are overdue and from another person company saying I need to sign up for student loans. Shouldn't they get their mailing lists better organized? How could I both be overdue and lacking in student loans?

-I'm not sure why, but for some reason, the shuffle option on my computer's iTunes is much better than the shuffle option on my iPod. When I play music on my computer, it's how I picture my shuffle option to work, where I go from Zeppelin to Amerie's"#1 Thing" (great song) to Black Sabbath to U2 to Sam Cooke to Belle and Sebastian. In other words, the perfect radio station and exactly why the shuffle option exists. But on the iPod, it always seems to find the same three artists and ten songs and throws them in there. I may start off with say Missing Persons or the Monkees, but at some point, I'll be back to the same four Tom Petty tunes or the only Fu Manchu disc I dared to put on there. I just don't understand it and actually, there are certain songs I won't listen to on my iPod not because I don't like them but because I hate the fact my iPod always plays it.

Possibly the best thing I have heard in years? A flute solo buried deep on the new Wolfmother cd. Which is also the best thing I've heard in awhile. I would wax rhapsodic about it, but I'm pretty sure there's about a million MySpace users doing the same as I type this. On the other hand, I'm not 17.

Lest I say, best proto Sabbath/Blue Cheer knock off band I've heard in years, with just enough songs about devil women, unicorns, and dragon imagery used on the cover to make it that much more rockinger.

Of course, as of last week, I would have said The Go Team!'s new album was the best thing I've heard in years. It's still good though, but doesn't quite make you bounce your head and do air guitar like the Wolfmother disc.

And one more thing before I stop sounding like every other blogger out there (I think as part of the agreement in being a blogger, you have to write about Wolfmother, just like I'm supposed to write about Our Hero, Stephen Colbert, which will come later), here is the best political blog I've stumbled upon in the past year or so: Princess Sparkle Pony's Photo Blog

So best.

I think I have finally figured out the crux of the immigration debate. Apparently, the problem is that there are a thousands of people who come to this country who don't look like us and don't speak English. Living in the state of California, the city of San Francisco, and in a Spanish neighborhood named after a Mission established by Spanish priests, I was not aware that this is a problem.

I am wrong.

What this all means, though, is that what really is driving this debate isn't necessarily the immigration per se, but the fact that one day, all those people living in their white-bred suburbs and ex-urbs woke up and realized that some of the people who work in the restaurants on their lawns and in their factories have names like Jose and/or Luis and don't speak English. Because it's all different and new, it means that this is a problem and SOMETHING MUST BE DONE.

Actually, what I find fascinating about the whole debate is how much the protests have become an issue. Especially the one on May 1st in which a lot of immigrants were planning on-gasp- not going into work. You know, it's okay to protest, just don't do it when you might inconvienance the rest of us. Our food won't get served by itself, you know.

Well, that's not entirely true as the whole idea of protesting has becoming an issue. We like our minorities docile, not uppity, it turns out. But you know, mock the French all you want for all their protests and what their protesting, but at least if something happens that pisses them off, they'll go out in the streets and try and do something about it. Unlike us who, when we get pissed off, tell a bunch of pollsters that we're really pissed off and then vote in the same clowns we voted for in the first place. Unless, like in '92 or '94 we decide to vote in a whole new bunch of clowns, totally ignoring the big floopy shoes and make up they wear.

Not to sound like one of those crazy commies or anarchist types, but this whole thing shows just how much the Man has us down. We've made it so that people who protest for their rights and try to fight from getting screwed over, come off as the bad guys. Among other things, it's easy for us white folks to get all angry that Latinos are protesting, but we're not the ones being threatened with deportation. But it just shows up how much crap we're able to put up with and not do a damn thing about it. Just look over the past twenty years or so-- we've had downsizing and outsourcing and a health car system thats falling apart and pensions being robbed. And that's just the economic stuff, we're not even getting into elections being stolen or fucked up wars. Yet we, as a people, pretty much do nothing about it. Or when we do get pissy, it's over stuff like abortion or gay rights or stuff that matters, yet not really.

I guess what I'm saying is that if all the protestors really wanted to be American, they should do what we do when get pissed off at something- watch Bill O'Reilly.

I came home late on Thursday night only to discover TiVo wasn't working. As you could quite imagine, this was quite upsetting. Very upsetting, in fact, especially in light of the fact the usual tricks I do to fix it didn't work. And when I mean it wasn't working, I mean it wasn't even recording anything.

So I did what I usually do when something like this happens and figure if I just wait a bit, it'll fix itself. I got home on Friday after work and the first thing I did was check to see if Tivo was working. It wasn't.

Panic time.

I got on the phone instantly and called Tivo help support. After a minute or two (much sooner than I thought, in fact) I got somebody on the other end of the phone who after explaining my problem first asked me if the plug was still plugged in. It wasn't.

Problem solved.

Why do I bring this story up? Because I'm picking up my new car (well, new used car) in an hour or so.

PS- what's the beauty of today's world? I missed a bunch of my shows due to the Tivo problem. Then I realized that I could download "the Office" off of iTunes. Which I did. And PTI is now also downloadable on iTunes, as is the Colbert Report which everyone is talking about because Stephen bitch-slapped BIll Kriston around.

Apparently, one of my dreams has come true and my visage was projected high and wide on a billboard in Times Square recently. Which I thought was pretty damn cool even if nobody else seems all that impressed. Guess being put on a billboard in Times Square is something that happens to pretty much everyone.

Anyways, I can know cross that off my list of things to do in my life. Next up: being fed grapes by Lucy Pinder while sailing in my own private catamaran in the Aegean.

I am not holding my breath.

I have realized that the fun in shopping for a car is the actual contemplation of the car. It's walking around or being in a bus seeing all these cars on the road or parked and thinking "that looks like a great car" or "that's exactly what I want." I love that part.

The not so fun part is when you actually get around to looking into buying the car. Because that's when you notice that this car looks good, but has way too much miles on it. Or is fine but has a lot of dents. Or actually isn't a very good car. And, in some cases, a great car but kind of a coral, pastel green and there's no way in hell I'd drive a coral, green car.

I also have done a lot of research into cars and thought I figured out the magic formula, or at least the best deal possible in used cars. That being a Honda Civic. So as I searched for cars, I felt pretty confident that it would be easy to do as only I figured out that they make great, budget used cars.

Unfortunately, my little secret knowledge is not so secret knowledge as it appears everyone has concluded the same thing. I've heard from various people that within posting a Honda, they get ten or twenty calls within an hour or so.

I guess I'm not as clever as sometimes I think I am.

Two stories from work before I never talk about work again....

1)We're doing this ad where some of us at work are having our photos taken and turned into cartoon characters. Based off of the photo, they gave me grey hair. I do not recognize myself as a cartoon character. And for some reason, they don't think it's a big enough deal to have it changed to brown

2)If you remember, I led this revolution as it were to get people to jaywalk across the street after being let off the SamTrans bus. This made me proud. What makes me not proud is the fact that the other's, my prodigies, are doing it wrong. See, when I'd jaywalk, I'd do it in such a way that I didn't actually stop traffic. In other words, I might have broken the law as it were, but I didn't do any harm. Others on the bus are jaywalking, but doing it so that traffic is stopped. The crazy thing is that they'll cross the street when it plainly says "Don't Walk" and cars will actually stop to let them pass. You know, as opposed to actually doing what they're supposed to do and go, maybe even giving us a scare by almost running us over. Because if they did, it would totally be our fault. In other words, while I believe in doing no harm as a jaywalker, they are doing harm. They are giving jaywalking a bad name.

And finally, I am so loving the Mary J. Blige version of U2's "One" right now....

More notes on the trip before we return to the usual boredom and light posting:

-The train I took from Philly to Baltimore was full enough that every seat was taken by at least one person but not many seats were taken up by two. Which meant that the whole horde of people getting on at Philly had to walk up and down the train determining which poor person would no longer have the seats to themselves. On our side, the recently added passengers, it becomes a big game of who's seat they would take? The child? The cell-phone acceserizing businesman? The old lady? And how bummed would they be to know that in an entire cabin of people having seat to themselves, they were picked. And for the people who had the seat to themselves, you could see them looking nervous as people walked up and down the aisle looking for the perfect seat, hoping that they wouldn't have to give something up.

-And how bummed was the lady who had lost having the seat to themself by the huge, fat, Jabba the Hutt lady. A lady so fat she had to sit by the window because she'd have more room. And all the while, Jabba Lady had a self-righteous look on her face, you know, the kind of face that said, don't you even think about looking disappointed just because I'm 400 pounds.

-I know have spent about 3,000 bucks on consumer electronic equipment that will make my travelling that much more enjoyable. The equipment mainly being a laptop, video iPod, and various electronic devices bought to help both. This being my first flight with all the equpment, I was actually looking forward to it. Now, first of all, being able to watch "Battlestar Gallactica" on a laptop on a five hour flight? Kicks all sorts of ass. But the other thing is I found myself with too many entertainment options. The flight takes off and I'm sitting there thinking- should I read first and listen to music or listen to music and play tetris? Or should I watch "Lost" or a "South Park" episode or "Battlestar?" Maybe even try playing the video game I bought just for this flight.

-For whatever reason, I had to fly into Durham North Carolina to switch flights. Which means, yes, there's another state I went to on my trip, although I'm not exactly sure a stay in a airport really counts. I mean, during my trip to Germany and Austria, I spent a couple of hours at Heathrow, but I never claimed to have been in London. You know, in a way, being in North Carolina was a bit like being in Heathrow-- the reading materials are totally different and everyone talks with a funny accent. The only difference being that the reading material in London are mainly laddie magazines with actual nudity and in North Carolina it's NASCAR magazines and books about Jesus.

Anyways, while I was waiting for my flight to board, I started playing a pretty fun game with my fellow passengers. That game being "Who's from the Bay Area and Who's Just Going to Visit." See, the game goes like this. Guy with a flat top hair cut? Visiting SF. Guy with a natural tan, wearing shorts and sandals? Resident of SF. Old lady with a bad perm, bad die cut, and a look on her face like she sucked twenty lemons at once? Visiting. Woman with long, unruly hair and wearing a black mumu? Lives somewhere in the Bay Area, probably near Santa Cruz. BIg, clean cut guy with wholesome looks wearing a button down shirt tucked into his jeans? Visiting. Guy wearing all black with a beard and an earing? Probably lives a couple of blocks away from me.

See how this works?

So let's just say something crazy is going on at work and there might be some promoting going on. And let's just say that there's an outside chance I could get promoted. Or somebody else.

And for fear that this is all going to get me in trouble (hi, Samela), I am quite torn. On the one hand, a promotion would be pretty nice in that it definately is a sign of a job well done and of appreciation. And that's always nice to get. It might also mean more money (which is always nice) and the knowledge that I actually did get a promotion at something I did, which has never happened to yours truly. On the other hand, it would mean much more responsibility and having to deal with things I don't want to deal with. Like hiring/firing people. Or laying them off. Or having to write employer evaulations or having to constantly be in the middle of conflicts. I am quite happy doing what I'm doing and quite content. I do not even know if I have the "bandwidth" to take on more responsiblity as my job is quite busy and I have other things to contend with during the day. A friend of mine once told me he had a general rule of quitting every job he had the moment it looked like he was going to take on managerial responsibilities. I thought it was one of the wiser things I had ever heard.

Then again, if there is promoting going on and it's not me, that'll make for one cranky, bitter Jon. Because it's kind of a diss in a way. It's kind of a "you do great work, but X does better work." Which would hurt that much more because I do have seniority in our little group. If I don't get it, it'll be doing the "if I did this, I would have gotten it" or "I shouldn't have done this and should have done that instead" thing. I hate doing that thing.

In other words, either way, it won't be good.

Unless, of course, they don't promote anybody.

Fingers? Crossed.

So I was walking the dad family dog this afternoon and come upon a house. The house's lawn is totally overgrown and looked like it hadn't been mowed for weeks. And there's piles of dog crap lying everywhere. So the dog goes into manuevers that make it look like she's about to throw done some serious dumpage and as she is, I'm standing there this: should I pick up after the dog or should I not? After all, it's not like anybody else has been picking up after their dogs. But on the other hand, just because other people do it, doesn't mean it's okay to.

Also, there's not a lot of public trash cans in the 'hood where I'm at so I've found myself several times wandering around with a bag of dog poop. Finally, I come upon somebody else's trash can right on the street and go to throw the bag in there and then suddenly flash to the "Curb Your Enthusiasm" episode where Larry does something similiar and winds up setting the usual mayhem and trouble into motion. And so, I held off in throwing the bag away.

Damn, you, "Curb Your Enthusiasm." Damn you.