I did pub night tonight at the Edinburgh and there was a bonus question worth ten points offered. The bonus question was basically name the TV theme song. Talk about being in my wheel house as it were. I mean, if there's any question more suited for me, I don't know what it would be.

The quiz master starts playing the first few seconds of the theme songs and it's obvious within the first second that it's the 70's. A few more seconds into it and it's obvious that it's a 70's copy show. But which copy show?

For some reason I just totally got this picture of a guy in a wheel chair. A-ha! "Ironsides." But here's the thing: Ironsides is a totally obscure show. Wasn't it on for like three or four years? And I was less than 10 when it aired and I can't imagine watching more than four or five episodes at the most. I don't even know if my parents watched it (dad?). But for some reason, I just completely got the image of "Ironsides" in my head and went with the answer.

It was "Ironsides."

Sometimes I amaze myself. And sometimes I scare myself. This was one of those occasions.

Today I was on my way to work when I got to the Millbrae station. According to my BART ticket, I had just enough to get through the turnstiles. I was wrong. It turns out I didn't have enough money even though it said I did. So I went to the AddFare machine and found out that not only was I a little short, I was a lot short. Over a $1.50. Which is great because I only had some change and two $20s on me. And the AddFare machine doesn't take an ATM.

So I went to the counter, knowing full well my bus was bound to leave any minute now and told them what the what was. She said that even though my ticket said I had enough money, I really didn't and the reason was because the ticket just didn't print last time I used it. Which is great because I actually got to the BART station early and had plenty of time to get a new ticket, but didn't because I didn't think I needed to. And now, when I don't have much in the way of time, I have to.

The lady at the counter told me I had to leave the area, go to one of the machines outside the BART section and do something with the ticket machine to get the ticket validated, then go back to the BART section and use the ticket again. Because I am occasionally stupid, I went to do it, despite the fact I couldn't understand a thing she told me to do. And as I stood there at the ticket machine, trying to get my ticket fixed, I realized that not only was nobody really paying attention to whether or not I was taking care of the ticket, but my bus was about to leave.

Stopping what I was doing, I ran down to the Bus depot only to see my bus pull away, leaving me stranded at Milbrae. And all because the stupid BART ticket machine didn't print out how much money I had left.

Went to the dog show over the weekend. You would think that something like that would be a great family thing to do, but I couldn't think of anything worse to bring kids to. I can just see everyone who brings their kids to the show having to constantly say "no" to their kids saying "oh, daddy I want one" every five minutes. I mean, my friends had to tell me no every five minutes and I'm about thirty years older than your average kid.

Also over the weekend, I think I discovered the public transportation rider who just might be worse than the rider who doesn't walk up the left side of the escalator. That is the person who stands right smack dab in the middle. Because they not only screw over both sides, but at least people who stand in the left side of the escalator are at least in a correct side. The people who ride the escalator in the middle aren't even smart enough to figure out a side to go into.

I hate those people.

And speaking of which, a couple of weeks ago I was on my way to BART when somebody nearly ran me over to get down the esccalator in enough time to make their stop. My first reaction, besides "what the?" was wondering if I was the one who was on the wrong side of the escalator. Turns out I was on the right side, err, the correct side. It's just that somebody was on the left side and also not moving but because I was doing the right thing and leaving some room, the guy just happened to use me as the person to bowl over. The thing is that not only do I not blame the person, but I probably would have done the same thing.

And all because some fraking asshole didn't do what everyone in the entire fracking world knows what to do- if you're on the left side of the escalator, you walk.

I did something I haven't done since college today- I actually stopped myself from finishing a burrito and putting it into the fridge to save for later.

This I never do just because burritos are so yummy good that I just can't stop eating. Thus probably explaining the size of my beer belly over the years.

And I was watching the news today and saw a story about Hillary Clinton coming to give a talk at the Commonwealth Club. As threatened, she was met with a smattering of protests. On the screen, they showed one protestors holding up the Socialist Daily Workers rag (or whatever it's called) and another one was holding up a "Sen. Clinton Is In the Pocket of Israel" banner. So I'm thinking, huh, I wonder why the anti-war movement is having trouble gaining traction considering a large portion of them are made up of Communists and borderline anti-semitic conspiracy freaks.

Last night I went to a party at the law offices of the Man Who Almost Became Mayor. Yes, I am moving up in the world. It was fun and I had a good time, but I found that the best part of going wasn't the actual being there per se, but the fact that I was actually there. Because the fun in going there isn't exactly the going, but the telling people that you were there. You know, like slipping it into conversation, like "oh, sorry I'm late for the 'Lost' but I was at a cocktail party thrown by the Man Who Almost Became Mayor" or, "I wasn't home last night because I was at...." It's even better when somebody who casually throws around being at these type of big city events finds out that I was there too and is suddenly amazed that lowly little me now is on the far, far, far edge of being the type of person who goes to these type big city events.

Sadly, due to a bad cold, I was not drinking. Which meant I couldn't go around claiming, "oh, yeah, I got drunk with the Man Who Almost Became Mayor." Or, considering people were smoking in one of the offices (no, not him either- from what I hear he doesn't partake), I could have claimed "I got stoned at the offices of the Man Who Became Mayor."

Oh, and first person I got to tell where I was? Totally didn't care.

I came home last night and I guess what happened is that somehow, the new laptop got unplugged early enough in the day that the batteries also ran out. None of which I knew when I got home, which is how I found myself in a little bit of a panic when I tried to check my e-mail and the computer wouldn't turn on. Picture me a little stressed as I frantically pressed the on/off button several times and hit every button on the computer trying in some way to get the glowy Apple on the front of the laptop to get all glowy again. And picture that panic increasing when I unplugged the thing hoping the batteries would kick kick it back to life. Didn't happen. And as I sat there trying to fiddle with the computer, trying to figure it all out, I couldn't help get visions of me going to the Apple store and putting the new baby in repairs.

Finally, after replugging the thing in and checking the chord, the laptop came back to life.

_______________________________

On the bus ride from Super Mondo to the Millbrae BART station, a big, huge fat guy gets on the bus and sits in the front. I sit in the back. Usually, he hits the escalator before I do and he's so fat, you can't walk next to him. Why this is important is sometimes BART is already there and so I need to race up the escalator to make sure I make my train, something impossible with his big, fat ass in the way.

So this time, when I got off the bus, I had a new plan- what I do, I need to get in front of the fat guy before getting on the escalator.

Can you say I walked very quickly to do that today.

I am in a meeting. A big meeting with all the Heads of the Department. I am kind of psyched to be in the meeting. I also realize as it's beginning that I didn't turn off my cell phone and I left a friend a message to call me back.

I am scared.

As I try to pay attention and look like I'm deeply involved and not saying stupid things, I am sweating internally. I feel like a timed bomb is about to go off at any moment and only I know it's about to go off. I am Jack Bauer even if I tried watching the show last week and thought it was too ridiculous to get into. And as everyone involved sits around discussing plans, coming up with procedures, all I could think about was this: "oh, please, don't ring....don't ring....don't ring."

The meeting looks like it's about to end and as I get ready to stand up and get the heck out of there, somebody says something and the meeting begins again, this time for something not involving me.

The sweat increases.

Finally, the meeting adjourns and I bolt out of there.

Hours later, my friend finally calls.

You remember my posting about the lady who sat in front of me on the bus despite the fact the bus was completely empty? In retrospect, I think it was mainly because I made the mistake of sitting right behind her seat, the seat she always sits in because it's part of her ritual. I would harsh on her about that, but I know what it's like.

When I started at SuperMondo Corp., I took a shuttle into work. After a few weeks on the shuttle, I realized that everyone had their special seats, the seats they went to everytime they got on the bus. I had mine right in the middle, to the left. But whenever anybody who was new or didn't know what the ritual was got on and sat in somebody's seat, there would be total chaos. It just threw off the delicate balance that made up the shuttle because it caused a domino effect. The interloper would sit in that one seat, then the person who would sit in that seat would go sit in somebody else's seat, and that person would go sit in somebody else's seat and so on and so forth. I'd literally watch as people would get onto the shuttle, quickly realize there seat was taken, and then watch as their face went all befuddled as they tried to figure out what to do next.

It was shuttle anarchy.

Sometime on Friday night, the little lightbulb went off and I got it- the genius blog posting. The one that everyone reads and says "wow." The one that causes one comment after another after another in agreement. The one everyone reads and immediately passes to somebody else and they pass it to somebody else and it gets passed through the internets like Lindsey Lohan. I get fame and attention and writing jobs fall at my feet.

I spent the better part of four days mulling it over, massaging it, planning it out. And then, today, on SFist, I posted it. The reaction: mainly yawn.

I hate when that happens.

One more thing, I seem to be getting known on the site as "the reactionary" blogger, mainly for taking the occasional piss out of the progessives. Which more amuses me than angers me. Who the hell uses that word anymore? The last time it was probably hurled with any invective was at a Che Guerrera fondue party in Havana sometime in the early 60's. And what does it mean, exactly? As far as I can tell, a reactionary means having a close mind by people with closed minds.

All throughout the football season, you'd hear stories about what a man of faith Tony Dungy, something you heard more and more after the tragedy involving his son (and it was a tragedy- I don't even know the guy and don't think his problems mean more to me than others, but I was pretty saddened by it. Dungy just comes off the screen as being this alright, class, centered individual). I thought more and more that issue yesterday, while watching the Colts/Steelers game for one reason. Because if there is a god, and considering all Tony's been through, you'd think God wouldn't let Vanderjagt shank that kick.

I have ants. All over the place.

Ants have made themselves so comfortable in my kitchen they've pretty much set up drum circles and ultimate frisbee games. So I called my new landlord to have something done about it. And yeah, I could use traps and I did, but my old landlord used to have somebody spray the place every month and the new landlord hasn't and I think he should. Plus, the traps have worked, but not 100% Ants crawling around my dishes icks me out.

So the landlord called yesterday and told me that he can have somebody come by, but only in the morning and that I had to be there. I told him I'd be there and so he called me back to say he can have somebody come out between 9-10.

It's 9:15 in the morning and I'm lying in bed, thinking about going back to sleep and realize that I shouldn't because somebody could be coming by any moment now so I quickly put on sweats and watch TV.

Nobody comes.

It gets way past 10 and still nobody hasn't shown up. And I'm in a dilemna- I want to take a shower and get some coffee and the paper, but I can't leave my apartment nor can I do anything that will make me unable to answer the door when they come. Like take the shower. Even worse, I don't have my cell phone on me (left it in a friend's car) and so if they tried to call me to let me know they were late or to check in, I wouldn't know because I only gave them my cell number.

10 crawls by and it gets onto 11. Then 11:30. The landlord hasn't called me back and I'm busy making plans with friends about what to do to watch the football games, plans which are complicated by the fact I can't leave my apartment until somebody shows up.

Twelve comes and goes and still no ant sprayer. It gets to 12:25 and I decide to say screw it, they're not showing up and hop in the shower.

Couple minutes into the shower, the doorbell rings. Of course.

So what do I do? I stand there and decide to take my shower. I like showers. Plus, they made me sit around for three hours and I'll be damned if I'm going to change things around because they're three hours late. If the guys double-parked and pissed off that nobody's buzzing him back, screw him. That's what he gets for being three hours late. And yes, I do realize I'm being just like Kramer.

The thing is that I want the ants to be-gone. I don't like the ants. But right now it's the principal the matter, the fact that he had me by the short hairs for three hours and I'm not going to let him get me by the short hairs again. Plus, I'm completely naked and wet.


Except the guy keeps on buzzing and knocking on the door and not leaving me along to enjoy my shower. Which is kind of the whole point of showering, to enjoy it. Well, that and cleanliness but whatever. But after the third knock on the door and fear that he's going to start calling both my cell and home phone, thus meaning I'm about to enjoy a symphony of phone rings, I get out of the shower, put on a towel, and open the door to let the guy in to kill some ants.

The bus I take from Millbrae to Super Mondo is your normal size bus. Friday morning, there was only three people who got on. I was the first and sat myself down to the left, in the middle. I chose the seat mainly because the seat in front of it was in an upright position so I had more space.

As I sat down and made myself comfortable, one of the other passengers got on the bus, sat in the seat directly in front of me, and then proceeded to push her chair all the way back, knocking my knees on the way. This on a bus in which only one person sat on the right side of the bus and which had only THREE PASSENGERS.

Here's what I mean about Lost: So Michael starts IM'ing with Walt. But, of course, he doesn't say anything to anyone. You'd think, of course, this would be worthy of mention. You know, like "Oh my God, Walt just sent me a message through a computer that doesn't have DSL!"

But he didn't say anything.

Or take Eko. He sees the monster that one time and probably has a feeling that it's coming the second time (that's why I think he told Charlie to climb that true). But did he say "hey, it's the Monster!" Nope. He said not a thing. And you'd think one way of shutting Charlie up during that long walk would be to say "I want to find the plane because I think I know who's on the plane."

But again, nope.

And speaking of which, I know it's the point of the show, but, really, Mr. Eko winds up on the same island as his brother's death plane?: Not buying it. Among other things, last time I checked, a flight from Nigeria to the Middle East doesn't go over the Pacific Ocean.

Oh, one more thing about TV since that's what appears to be the theme this week. I'm also really loving the new American version of "the Office." It pretty much nails the humdrummery of office life better than any show I've seen. And nails the occasional land mine explosion that is office inter-personal relationships. Love things that point out how difficult any sort of interaction can be.

Anyways, despite it's brilliance, nobody's watching it. It's the new "Arrested Development," a brilliant show watched by a select few people and not watched by the rest of America. The same group of people who put breathlessly watch "Dancing with the Stars."

So, for all those of you in American who are behind the killing of "Arrested Development" and probably killing of "the Office," I thank you. Just next time you bitch and whine about the sucking of America, just remember while you're watching "Dancing with the Stars," you got nobody to blame but yourself.

There are many types of loves out there but there's one that hasn't quite been so analyzed and dissected and wrote about by the bads as others have. And that is the love one discovers with a TV show.

Think I'm making this up? Just think of the joy and excitement your favorite TV show brings. It gives you something to look forward to every week, something to dissect and analyze, something to schedule your life around. And now, with the internets being what they are, it also gives you one more thing to slack off to.

Since my one true love, Buffy went off the air, I've been, as Johnny Cougar would sing, living in the in-betweens. Other than a flash of enjoyment over Arrested Development (as much as I love a good sitcom, there's nothing quite as consuming as the hour long drama) or the Office, I've been pining away over lack of a TV show love.

Last year, I thought I had found it with Lost but it turned out to be more of a flirtation than anything else and now we just remain good friends. The show is the kind of show you admire more than get into as it's crazy supernatural bits and freaky island things get kind of offsetting, something that takes you away from enjoying the show. And yeah, I'm the one who professes undying love for a show about a vampire slayer, but as anyone who even watched the show would know, it wasn't the supernatural aspect of it that worked, but how the supernatural aspect of it was just one big ole honking metaphor for adolescence, growing up, life, love, morality, and the meaning of it all that made it work. Lost appears to be nothing but a couple of cool tricks done for the sake of it being a cool trick.

But now, I have found my show, my love, my everything. That show? Battlestar Galactica.

Oh Battlestar, how do I love thee?

Is it because everytime I think they're about to go into standard cliche mode, they pull away and do the thing that makes the most sense according to the rules of the show's universe and it's characters? Is it the way every character is shaded and complex in such a way that you wind up rooting for the most hard-to-like character (Col. Tigh) or even the bad-guy Cylons? Is it because the mind-fuck that was making Sharon both copies and sleeper agents? Or is just because it's got a kick ass plot with kick ass action sequences?

Either way, I, for the first time in years, am head-over-heels in love with a TV show.

And I love it.

After years of searching the Web for just the one article that could help me make my life better, I think I finally found one. Courtesy of MSN's "Hot Stories" link section )a section that apparently sees nothing hot about the Abramoff scandal, NSA leaks, or the Alito hearings) we get this story: Celeb love lessons: What not to do. Apparently, according to this article the next time I'm dating someone, I should not proclaim my love for her on the couch of the Oprah show, deny it to press and try and hide it from paparazzi (a problem all too frequent these days), and marry a freeloading backupdancer whose already spawned two children with a previous SO.

I feel empowered with knowledge now.

Thank you, MSN. Thank you.

I have a bad case of iPoditis. The symptoms? I know carry that thing with me everywhere. Everywhere. And all those places I was thoroughly okay with not listening to music I am know not okay with. Going to Wash & Fold? How can I even go around the corner if I don't have music with me?

Seriously.

I listen to the thing going to work, coming home from work and I still chances to listen to it while at work (I don't have the kind of job that lends itself to blissing out to music). I look forward to doing things now because it'll give me an excuse to listen to it. And I spent half my time know thinking of things to download. In fact, I'm begining to think that I'm actually going to finally get some more excercise because excercising will give me a reason to listen to the thing.

Where has this thing been all my life? All those people who I used to mock because everywhere they went, even at work, they had those iPod stalks in their ears I now get.

I have become one of those people whom Hollywood hates. I am one of those people who don't see as many movies as I used to because I have too many other ways of entertaining myself.

I used to try and see a movie at least once a week, usually by myself because I've found it easier to see movies when you're the only one going to see a movie. Or at least a movie you want to go see (think about it, how many movies over the years have you not seen because you waited to go see it with friends and your friends could never get organized enough to all see it together). But lately, I haven't been seeing as many movies as before, mainly because now that I have TiVo and a souped up DVD hookup, I'm seeing other things.

I would like to say it's because I can't take the previews and the commercials and the cell phone chattering, but I don't mind that stuff that much. In fact, I would have to say it mainly comes down to general laziness-- it's so much easier to flip on TiVO than hop on pub trans to go to either the Metreon or the AMC 1000.

Well, that's not entirely true exactly. What it is is that while there's a bunch of movies I want to see-- like Munich and Syriana and the Edward Murrow movie-- I'm not dying to see them. Yeah, I'd like to see them, but why see them when I could see something I'm dying to see.

Take this weekend. I was planning on seeing a whole bunch of movies as it was the perfect weekend for it-- rainy, lazy and hungover, but I didn't want to see them nearly as much as I wanted to watch season 1 of "Battlestar Gallactica" on DVD. So I watched Battlestar Gallactica, my new fave show, instead.

None of this, however is the point of all this blathering. What is,however, is the perception that comes with staying home and watching DVDs as opposed to going to see movies. See, going to the movies gets you out of the house, it's active, it's considered social even though it's basically leaving home to do something you can do at home, stare at a screen. Yet seeing a movie is considered social while watching DVDs are considered a sign of anti-social loser-dom.

Which brings us to my new baby, the laptop. I got the laptop partly because I could take it to coffee shops and do my computing stuff there. Because staying in the apartment to write and surf the Web while listening to music is considered a sign of anti-social loserdom while walking to a coffee shop to surf the Web while listening to music is considered being social and active. Think about it, if I said- I just hung out and played on the computer all day, that sounds like a lame time. If I said I hung out at Muddy Waters and played on the computer all day, that comes off as sounding, "wow, that Jon is always so social and never at home." All this despite the fact I'm not actually doing anything that I couldn't do at home.

When I brought the baby out to the coffee shop for it's first time on Friday, I walked into the coffee shop and saw the entire coffee shop jammed pack with people, all hunched over their glowing PowerBooks, with their headphones on, typing away. Everyone was "out" and "being social" yet nobody was actually being social. Unless, of course, they were using their time to go online and do some sort of internet networking thing which means they were being anti-social around people they were in close proximity to while being social with people who aren't in close proximity to them. I even saw a couple in there, both staring not at each other, but at their respective laptops.

In other words, I stayed in the apartment for most of the weekend watching DVDs and playing on the computer. What of it?

Side note- what about all those people who still look down on TV and say that they only do NetFlix. Then when everyone talks about some great TV show, they always just sniff and say something like "oh, I'll just get it on NetFlix and watch it that way." As if by watching a TV show when it's on DVD somehow makes it infinitely more intellectual than watching a TV show when it's actually aired on TV. Like if I watch "Arrested Development" (RIP) when it's on, I'm one of those lazy, unintellectual TV watching clods who represent the worst of America. Yet if I were only to watch Arrested Development when I order it on NetFlix, that would make me a soulful artiste making a stand against BushCo America.

Me at the local bagel shop, a play in one act.

Me: Hi, I'd like a poppy seed bagel with cream cheese & lox

Bagel Guy (BG): takes a few seconds to replyWhat kind of bagel?

Me: Eh, poppy seed.

BG: With cream cheese?

Me: Yes, and lox.

BG: With lox?

Me: Yes, and with no capers or onions or anything else

BG: With capers and onions

Me: No. With nothing on it.

BG: Tomatoes?

Me: (trying not to sound exasperated or like I'm still needing coffee) No, nothing.