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

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

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

Jesus criminy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scenes from a weekend-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then….


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

or

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

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

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

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

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

Ahh, the Mission.

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

Isn't there a rule about that or something?

As many of my faithful readers know, I hate, the 80's. Hate, hate, hate, hate. I hate the clothes, hate the music, hate the culture, hate the hair. I hate everything about them. So, naturally, where did I find myself last Saturday night? One of those big 80's dance parties in the city.

See, I just wanted a nice night out in the hood. A little Mexican food, a little margarita pitchers, a little more drinks. But my friend had other plans. She wanted to go to an 80's party. So to an 80's party my two friends and I went. And oh, what an 80's party it was.

She had thought like it was going to be your oh-so-typical 80's party that are out there these days, khaki clad Marina kids doing the robot to "Come on Eileen" or "Hungry Like the Wolf." This, however, was definitely not a Banana Republic event, this was for the serious, hard-core 80's aficionados. We're talking goth kids in black, fauhawks and makeup, dyed hair and bondage gear. This party was more 80's than the 80's, like all of those movies back then that showed this totally decadent, gothed-out hipster scene that really never existed back then, or at least didn't to those of us stuck in areas where people actually considered Phil Collins to be an art rocker.

Now the good thing about the dance party was that they didn't play the same fifteen 80's songs over and over again and instead played mainly import & obscure 20 minute dance remixes of Depeche Mode songs. The bad news, however, is that they played mainly import & obscure twenty minute dance remixes of Depeche Mode songs. One of my friends told me sometime that night that she graduated in the 90's and felt that nothing was going on culturally in the 90's. Which was kind of interesting to me, someone who graduated in the 80's, mainly because one of the little mentioned things that resulted in the wake of "Nevermind" was what it did to "alternative" music. Before Nirvana, alternative music, or at least the kind that was played mainly on stations like Live 105, were mainly fey British bands with lots of synthesizers and a David Bowie jones. After Nirvana made it, all the fey British bands were gone from the radio, replaced by long-haired, flannel wearing stoners with a Black Sabbath jones. Goodbye Tears for Fears, hello Soundgarden. Three guesses as to where my musical taste lies.

Now what to say about the crowd. First off, several months ago Savage Love got in trouble for saying that most goth girls are, well, on the big side. Let's just say that I now know why he said that. But mainly it was a little weird in that here I was, somebody who actually was from that time going to a club filled of people who were mainly in Elementary School during that time trying to dress up like people used to when I was in High School. It must be like what an ex-hippie feels like whenever he's walking around Haight Street or Santa Cruz. It mainly felt, however, that everyone was playing a part, a role in a "Less Than Zero" movie they all want to be living in their head. And I, slightly older, dressed up in a grey sweater and somewhat nice shoes, was Andrew Macarthy.

Finally, after an hour or so, my friends had had enough and wanted to leave. Well, one did, the other one wasn't feeling so well. I don't know whether or not they're wanting to leave had anything to do with them getting approached by some guy dressed up like a reject from a Frankie Goes to Hollywood with thigh-high bondage boots asking the both of them if they wanted to go home with him and his plump leather-clad wife from some swinging action.

A source of major drama has broken out involving somebody I know. Apparently, she has been having a year-long fling with her male roomate. Which isn't necessarily the big source of drama, although still a bit of one since nobody knew. What is, however, the drama is that the roomate was also having a year long fling with their other female roomate. In other words, this guy was somehow sleeping with both roomates without the other roomate knowing.

Holy Jack Tripper, Batman

Since I am hearing the story from a bunch of women, I get to hear the story from their vantage point. They all agree that the roomate is a bad, bad man and a total jerk. They express shock that the person we know is still wanting to be friends with the guy. I, of course, nod along in agreement, playing along with their clucking while at the same time having a completely different view of the whole thing. Mainly that of a guy and that of being one of more sheer admiration. Two roomates at the same time without either one knowing it?

That's kind of awesome.

The dude pretty much lived the "Dear Penthouse" dream.

Needless to say, when he tells his male friends about the reason why he's suddenly looking for a new place to live, their attitude probably isn't "dude, you suck" but more like "dude!" with much high-fiving.

I can't say I'm really into grafitti. In fact, when it comes to the whole grafitti is it art or a public nuisance issue, I tend to side on the public nuisance side. However, today I think I saw the greatest piece of grafitti that I have ever seen. In a simple, non-descript style, somebody wrote maybe the wisest, sagest words ever written on a sidewalk:

"Don't Stop Believin'"

All I can say is, so true, dude, so true. Hold on to your dreams.....

You are Kip Dynamite and you love technology.


Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

For the past week or so, I've been a little irritated with myself about my job. I've found myself not having as much time to read my Web sites or take breaks. I've been scattered and irritable, tired and a bit frazzled, and missing things that I normally don't miss. Today, I finally figured out why: I'm really busy.

And yeah, kind of "duh," but I've been having such a serious case of headupthebuttitis that it didn't even occur to me that I was busy until yesterday.

Oh, and here's something completely random- I played badminton at the gym on Tuesday, a game I haven't played since I was a little kid. In fact, the last time I played it, I think my parents were still together. Anyways, you know what? That's a damn fun game.

Lately I've been thinking that I've been too into all the celebrity gossiping and snarking out there. I know everything there is to know about all the big names, all the big players- Paris and Lindsey, Kevin and Britney, Brad and Jen. I read all the snarky gossip sites, talk about all the snarky gossip news, and write snarky gossip snark. Day in, day out, that's all I seem to be reading lately. And I'm getting, well not tired of it, but just a little ashamed of it. I need to be the solution to the problem, not the problem and gossiping about celebrities is the problem. It's just another thing causing the downfall of Western Civilization. Besides, I'm beginning to feel a little malnourished by it. I want to read intellectual tomes. I bought "War and Peace." I want to read the New York Times Book Section. I'm thinking about changing my writing style.

But then, over the weekend, news linked out that Paris Hilton's sidekick was hacked into and it's contents posted online. There it was, her personal diary, her phone numbers of very famous people (including our Mayor), her naked photos of herself making out with some other girl. It's like manna from heaven.

This story is just so....so....so.....awesome. And once again, I realize that God, I love snarky celebrity gossip.

Bunch of random things.

-Of course, I watched that Michael Jackson special Thursday night, the one on 20/20. I couldn't help notice that they used Michael's actual music for it's theme music. And I'm thinking that's a little odd in that in order to get the rights to play the music, they had to ask permission to use it. Which means that somewhere there might have been a phone call that went something like "hey Michael, we're making a documentary that will make you extremely creepy at best, incredibly perverted sicko at worst. Can we use Billy Jean as it's theme music?"

-Someone in this morning's class had her cell phone go off in the middle of the class. Twice. Which is probably the worst thing you could possibly do in a yoga class. Way too much karma in play after all. If she finds herself reincarted as a dung beetle, she'll know why.

-Speaking of which, I forgot to mention this gem from the class I took several weeks ago, the one with the Super Happy Twins. At one point, they made us line up in two straight rows and then partner up with someone. Not to say hold a person in position, but so that when you do a backward bend, you have somebody you can smile at.

-I'm beginning to accept the fact that "Both Sides Now" just might be the best song ever written. Even better than "Stairway." And yes, even better than "Yummy, Yummy, Yummy I Got Love in My Tummy." It's that good.

Seriously

-Went to see "Constantine" today (about what you'd expect and I meant that as a compliment- I liked it) and saw a couple of interesting previews. First of all, is there any movie out there that's really that exciting? There's not one movie that I'm anxiously counting down the days for or hope to see the preview of. And yes, that includes the next "Star Wars" movie. I think it's just some sort of post "Lord of the Rings" thing where no movie that could possibly be released could even compare.

Okay, where were we?

I saw one preview for some probably crappy movie, the one with Mathew "Naked Bongo Playing" McCounaghey and Penolope "Tom Cruise's Beard" Cruz. At the end of the preview, the announcer announced that the movie was "Directed Joe Shlabotnik" or some name along those lines. The point being that as far as I know the director is a complete nobody yet it was intoned like it was a big deal, like see this, it's a Joe Shlabotnik movie! Out of all the tens of movies they showed as previews, he was the only one who got that notice? Why? Who thought the fact that it was a Joe Shlabotnik movie would mean anything? As far as I know, there's only a handful of directors who that would mean anything- Scorcese, Spielberg, Tarantino, maybe Spike Jonez or David Fincher or Tim Burton. There's also a whole bunch of directors who sound familiar (Robert Zemickis, David Russell) but who they'd have to say "from the director of...." But not this Joe Shlabotnik. He, apparently, needs no introduction.

And finally, there's some horror movie out there that actually has Paris Hilton in the cast. I'm guessing that the producers thought it was a total score to score Ms. Hilton but I'm sure I'm not the only one who upon seeing her on screen immediately started howling in laughter.

Everyday I tape "Around the Horn" and "Pardon the Interruption" while I'm at work and watch it when I get home. It's part of my post-work ritual. Today I screwed it all up and wound up taping VH-1 instead and so can't watch it. My routine is now blown. As a result, I'm pretty much at a loss on what to do tonight. It's like I'm supposed to do something but I don't know what. I even flipped through the TV channels hoping I'd somehow find one of the shows on the 600 shows in the cable universe but couldn't find it. It's kind of like when you have a morning routine and for some reason the morning routine doesn't happen and the whole day feels out of whack.

And yes, this does look like another sign that TiVo is my destiny. But....there's something about TiVo I don't like and it's not the fact it'll probably doom what little social life I have now. It's just that with all the rumours out there about TiVo not doing well, I just have a feeling that someday people will look back at TiVo and think BetaMax. Or LaserDiscs. Remember LaserDiscs? How many people are out there totally bummed because they bought a LaserDisc, thinking they had the new, latest thing only to discover a few years later that DVDs are the new, latest thing.

Everyday I tape "Around the Horn" and "Pardon the Interruption" while I'm at work and watch it when I get home. It's part of my post-work ritual. Today I screwed it all up and wound up taping VH-1 instead and so can't watch it. My routine is now blown. As a result, I'm pretty much at a loss on what to do tonight. It's like I'm supposed to do something but I don't know what. I even flipped through the TV channels hoping I'd somehow find one of the shows on the 600 shows in the cable universe but couldn't find it. It's kind of like when you have a morning routine and for some reason the morning routine doesn't happen and the whole day feels out of whack.

And yes, this does look like another sign that TiVo is my destiny. But....there's something about TiVo I don't like and it's not the fact it'll probably doom what little social life I have now. It's just that with all the rumours out there about TiVo not doing well, I just have a feeling that someday people will look back at TiVo and think BetaMax. Or LaserDiscs. Remember LaserDiscs? How many people are out there totally bummed because they bought a LaserDisc, thinking they had the new, latest thing only to discover a few years later that DVDs are the new, latest thing.

Man, the Mission is totally dead tonight. I guess my hood isn't considered romantic enough for Valentine's Day. Speaking of this day, the receptionist at work totally juked me. I went to go pick something up from reception and when I announced who I was and what I came down for, she turned to the entire section full of floral bouqets as if to hand me one before realizing that what was delivered to me was printer proofs and not flowers.

Tanks for nothing, Danny Noonan.

For old times sake, here's the Bay Guardian Wank of the Week.

See, there's talk of raising the MUNI fares by another twenty-five cents in order to fix budget deficits. Okay, not good, although in a relative sense, another quarter ain't that big of a deal (it's a friggin quarter). I'm not exactly for it, but I also haven't heard of a decent way to fix the problem. So what we need is a debate on how best to handle this problem, one that's smart and sane and works. Which, of course, won't happen in San Francisco because things that are smart and sane and work doesn't happen because nobody believes in being smart and sane. At least politically. How can you be smart and sane when you have to deal with logic like the one thrown out in this editorial against the fare hike?

'ANOTHER QUARTER, please." The bus driver was glaring at me and my 17-month-old son as I fumbled for an additional quarter. My fingers clawed their way into the dark recesses of my backpack. Brushes, crumpled receipts, paper clips, pens, old address books intertwined with new address books, erasers, old watch bands, and ... oh, ahhh, could it be true? A quarter? Clutching the sliver of metal, my fingers climbed back up through a hidden passage of Mt. Backpack. But alas, it was just a nickel. "Would a nickel be OK? It's all I have right now?" I plead.

Not since I read Steinbeck have I read such a tale of poverty and woe.

"No, it's $1.25; you can get off at the next stop."

Just give that bus driver a name like Cranky McDriveshafts and you got yourself a Dickensian villian here.

Since I started school in January, I've been taking Muni more than usual, and a bus pass was too rich for my meager, working-poor single-parent budget, so every week I begged, borrowed, or stole my way onto San Francisco's main transportation system. Until now.

There's a new thought to the whole debate- raising bus fares increases panhandling and crime. Remember, this is over a friggin quarter a ride.


The Municipal Transportation Authority is proposing a rate hike to $1.50 a ride to offset its $24 million budget deficit. This fare increase would make it almost impossible for very-low-income folks like me to ride the bus at all. And considering that we make up the majority of bus riders, I have to ask: Who is the MTA targeting for these rate hikes?

Uh? People who ride the bus?


Yes, it's true that in San Francisco, conscious, privileged people with homes and high-paying jobs ride the bus because they want to – after all, it's better for the environment – but so do poor immigrants, fixed-income elders, youths, poor workers, and disabled and houseless folks. We all have different reasons, but we all ride.

Have you ridden the 71 or the 14? There' s a lot of unconscious people who ride too.

Of course, all public services in California are facing budget deficits – but let's take a moment to connect the dots, or rather, the corporate welfare recipients. We could start with Enron, which stole all of California's surplus with its fake energy crisis

Yeah, okay, Enron happened. So what?


...and the Governator, who didn't go after Enron for that stolen revenue (he also owns interests in energy stocks) and who decided owners of expensive cars like his Hummer needed to pay less taxes, which took a major local revenue source away from desperately needy city budgets.

Okay, that's true. Kind of. I have a feeling, though, that the huge budget problems in California and San Francisco didn't come out of small, minor, tax cut for Hummer drivers.

Corporate-esque (corporate-esque? Don't they mean People of Corporations?) MTA board members like Ted Tedesco, previously with American Airlines, and bank executive Thomas O'Bryant are voting against their own best interests when they make public transportation increasingly costly for poor workers. Cheap transportation enables the urban/suburban apartheid they rely on to get through their daily lives. If it weren't for cheap public transit, the poor service workers like maids and dishwashers couldn't get from the poor areas of the city to the wealthy neighborhoods across town, where people like those MTA board members reside.

Ah yes, the Aparthied of the Bay Area. How true it is. And when will Steven Van Zandt and Bono do "Don't Wanna Play San Francisco"? And way to appeal to those corporate-esque people, by saying that their hired help couldn't come in to work for them if they raise the bus fare.

Last week a new coalition representing some of the poorest citizens of San Francisco presented its own "Platform for Transit Justice" to the MTA, declaring public transportation to be a human right.

Wasn't that one of Roosevelt's Four Freedoms, the Freedom to ride MUNI for free? Or Wilson's Fourteen Points? And isn't that in the consitution, that we "hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, the pursuit of Happiness, and BART?.

The coalition believes that as a transit-first city, San Francisco should encourage use of public transit instead of cars and proposes a variety of revenue-raising measures that would eliminate the deficit.

Agreed

As the Muni bus doors close on me and my son with an extra wumph, I consider illicitly entering through the back door of the next bus without paying the fare. Then I remember that when they hiked the rates in 2003, they also jacked up the issuing of tickets to people trying to ride without paying the fare – criminalizing the poor while targeting the poor.

And here I was thinking they were just trying to make sure the fares got endorsed. The funny thing about all this is until recently, I always paid just a buck and nobody said anything.

Without options, I gather our stuff and we begin the long walk home.

Sorry. I can't write right now as I'm too busy crying into my handkerchief

Does this sound really pretentious when I say that the ostrich portobello appetizer at Blowfish just might be the best thing ever?

Yes?

Oh well. But seriously, it's frickin' good.

From last week's yoga class- the place I've been going to has recently changed everything around. New name, new teachers, new theme. But as it doesn’t have a new location, it's still the place for me. So I went there last Sunday, the first time I've been there after all the new changes. This class had two new teachers, a man and woman tag-team.

How shall I describe the teachers? I knew I was in trouble from the get-go when they gave their little introductory speech about how friendship was going to be the theme of the class (some of the teachers try and give some sort of pep talk before the class) and everytime they'd talk about the power of friendship, they'd clasp each others hands, turn to each other, and then give themselves warm fuzzy smiles. It goes without saying that within minutes of the class I already felt like I was going to throw up in my mouth.

They were like something out of a Christopher Guest movie. They finished each other's sentences and when they let the other person speak, they'd shake their heads and exclaim their affirmation to everyone. When one of them was teaching, the other one would finish off a command with a "oh yeah!" or "okay everyone!" And then, to top it all off, they finished the class by handing out copies of that old yoga standard, Amazing Grace, and led everyone in several rounds of the song. Craziest part of the whole bit? There were enough people into it that I could hear counter melodies and harmony.

And yes, my droogies, it was maybe the hardest yoga class I've ever had to sit through.

Thank God it was Superbowl Sunday. Nothing like washing away all that with beer, cheese steaks, and the Godaddy.com ad.

Appropos of nothing, here are some of new faves:

Neko Case
Fark.com's Photoshop contests
Downloading "Rainbow Connection" and Bon Jovi's "Lay Your Hands on Me"
Volleyball
Lost
Getting an e-mail from wing nut Family Values guy and one of the leaders of the Gray Davis recall, Tony Andrade, for snarking on him on SFist.
This weeks SF Weekly with it's Apologist column about Chris Daly and his temper problem and the cover story on Journey
Having money in the savings account
The donburi bowl at Super Mondo's Noodle Bar
The Pesto Pollo wrap at Il Mariachi (is that what it's called?), the burrito shop down the street from me
U2's "Crumbs From Your Table"

So you're Melanie on this season of the Real World. You're kind of too-cool-for-school and kind of bitchy, but still by the far the only likeable one. You're the only one on the show who doesn't come off as wanting to use the show to audition for minor celebrity status. And you have a great rack. You come home really drunk one night and get cornered by your roomates and told how much you suck.

Is that really a bad thing? Shouldn't it be considered a compliment? Wouldn't being the one on the Real World who everyone hates primarily because you don't play along with all the stupid Real World games be a good thing? Is being called a bitch by the fake-breasted wannabe ho with major daddy issues and a future posing in Playboy so bad? Or the alcoholic who was arrested for defecating in someone else's dorm room?

And one more random pop culture thought- the rumour flying around the internets is that Jessica Simpson hooked up with Johnny Knoxville. But that's not the interesting part. The interesting part is that the rumour has it that he introduced her to whacky world of rimming. How did that rumour get started? How do people know? Was Jessica like all "I got my salad tossed" to her girlfriends who were all "Jessica got rimmed" to their girlfriends and so and so forth? Or did Johnny send an e-mail that was all "guess what I did dawg? I hit it with Jessica and did some ass-licking" and the e-mail got sent around the office so that everyone saw it? How would you feel if you opened up the papers and saw that all over the place? Well, if you're Johnny, you're stoked.

But still.

It's taken me long enough, but yes, I have finally hopped on the "Lost" bandwagon. And yeah, I wrote about this before.

Anyways, while I'm getting into it and think the show deserves some of the props it's been getting, I still have some problems with it. The main problem I'm having with it is believability. But what I find believe and what I don't find believable are a little different than what most people think. Like I'm totally down with there being a monster on the island and the mysterious French woman. And I'm okay with Locke suddenly being able to walk, there being a plane survivor who wasn't on the mainfest, a psychic telling Claire to get onto the plane, or a kid with strange powers. All of that stuff I'm down with. Hell, that's why I like the show- I love all that mysterious stuff (I loved, loved "Twin Peaks" for that reason).

But there's a few things I'm having trouble buying. And while there's a few little things I can't believe, there's one main thing I'm having trouble with. And that's this- the hot chick whose part of the inevitable triangle between Jack and Sawyer? So not buying her as an ex-con who robbed a bank. No way, no how. No women who looks like that is going to be robbing banks.

No siree, Bob.

So first off, yes, props go to Spinney & Mir for two of those aforementioned Stuporbowl parties. I totally biffed on that one.

Oops.

Okay, now back to the fun.

At work, we're interviewing people for a similiar position as mine. Today, I got sent down to meet with today's interview and found out after a couple of minutes that she got a job I interviewed for. It was a job I interviewed for in May, I think, and the fun surrounding that interview was that I was sick as a dog (not to mention slightly hungover) and spent most of the interview trying not to, take your pick, pass out or throw up. It was a great job, however, and they sounded like they were into me, despite it all (I even told them I was deathly ill) but, as we all know, I didn't get the job. And yes, I was kind of bummed as it was a great job at a great company and it was located right across from the ballpark.

But that was then and this is now.

Anyways, the reason why she is interviewing at Super Mondo is that she's about to get laid off. Along with the rest of the office. All of which made me feel kind of good because I didn't get the job. Not that it was better than my current job, but it's nice to know that it just proves that everything is in it's right place. I also couldn't help but think but that in some sort of alternate universe, that could have been me in that interview chair.

She also mentioned that she was working at yet another office I interviewed at, although I can't remember when I interviewed there (yes, it's a small world and yes, I've been on a lot of interviews). She got laid off from there too- yet another office got closed.

And yes, it's all sorts of nice to hear all this.

I heard the coolest cell phone ring today- "Sweet Home Alabama" Which makes me think that the ultimate cell phone ring would be, of course "Freebird."

So W. released his big budget today and everyone's all shocked! shocked! that he's going around and cutting a lot of benefits. It's looking like almost all every government program, including farm cuts and veteran cuts and social security and on and on and on are getting it. And you know what? Go nuts. Have at it, George. Cut and cut away. You know why? Because all you idgits, all you farmers and all you veterans and all you blue collar types voted for him. Despite the fact it was totally obvious that his economic plan didn't make sense and despite the fact the idea of cutting taxes with huge budget deficits while at war could only lead to huge budget cuts, you voted for him anyways. And when Ms. Red State gets cancer from asbestos planted in their office building that the owner doesn't have to fix because W. put the kaibosh on lawyers, oh well.

In short, suck on it.

Hope you at least enjoy the fact you buy all the guns you want and there'll be no more gay cartoon characters on TV.

All I can say about the Superbowl is….mmmm…cheesesteaks.

Actually, maybe because I didn't watch the pregame stuff at all or maybe because I was watching it with people with a vested interest in the game (Iggles fans), it actually felt more like a football game than most Superbowls do. Usually, the football blends so much into the rest of the hype that it's just one component of it. You know, like somehow it gets blurred with the commercials and the pregame concerts and all that stuff so that you can't remember which is which.

Or maybe it's just because most games are really boring. Or maybe it's because there's so much partying going on, I can't remember a thing.

So, I thought it would be fun to go back over each Superbowl and see what I remember. And I'll start with the College years because anything before that doesn't really count because, well, the fun doesn't really start until you hit college.

XXI NYGiants 39 Denver 20
Watched it on the rec room floor of my dorm. It being Santa Barbara, most people I knew didn't really care. I think, in fact, I was one of a few people from my floor to head to the rec room. Everyone else I think went to the beach or were too hungover to leave their room. The only thing I remember was spending the entire game totally paranoid that everyone who was watching the game could tell how stoned I was.


XXII Washington 42 Denver 10
This one was right in the middle of mid-terms and I remember thinking that I'd study up til the game, behave myself, and then go back to studying after the game. Didn't happen. Don't remember a thing about this game either.

XXIII San Francisco 20 Cincinnati 16
I remember feeling that this game was really boring and Montana's last minute drive totally inevitable. I remember too that I watched it at a friends' house, but not sure which friend's house and for some reason, I remember watching this game in my Sophmore year apartment which is totally wrong because this game took place my Junior year.

XXIV San Francisco 55 Denver 10
Mich, Kym & Lu threw one hell of a keg party for this Superbowl. And that's all I remember.


XXV NYGiants 20 Buffalo 19
I actually watched this in Stockton. I know. Stockton? The college friends and I spent an exciting weekend there because a friend's parents were out of town and we watched this game at another friends house with all their family. Which is why I remember being totally sober for this one. Still don't remember a thing about the game other than thinking "hey, whadda you know, it was a good game." Also remember this weekend gave us the running joke "gotta feed the dog" which amused us for years.

Good times. Good times.

XXVIII Dallas 30 Buffalo 13
XXVII Dallas 52 Buffalo 17
XXVI Washington 37 Buffalo 24
Frankly, all these games blur into one. I remember watching one of them at Stoner's house on the edge of Dolores Park, the one with an incredible view of the city, but can't remember which one. I also think I might have been in Tahoe for one them, but that seems a little weird. Then again, I don't really think anyone remembers these games either as they were all pretty much one big, huge Bills butt-kicking.

XXIX San Francisco 49 San Diego 26
We watched this one in Brew's tiny studio in the Tenderloin. I remember the game was such a blow out that it seemed like the Niners were basically playing a scrimmage out there and feeling bad for CJ who is a big Chargers fan. I also remember the best part of the game was teaching Mrs. Brew how to get into football because she didn't have a clue. When the Niners won, we ran down to Market street to watch all the celebrating, a thing that consisted mainly of cars honking up and down Market street and everyone high-fiving each other.

XXX Dallas 27 Pittsburgh 17
Watched this game in bed with food poisoning. That Friday night Hoser had a dinner party where he tried out a new recipe and several of us went down the next day. Last time he threw a dinner party.

XXXI Green Bay 35 New England 21
Rothbart's house. I think we watched most of the game with the sound turned down and Rush cranked on the stereo. Highly recommended, by the way.

XXXII Denver 31 Green Bay 24
Cherry's apartment in North Beach. Great football game, or at least that's what I remember of it. Don't remember the game other than it was good.

XXXIII Denver 34 Atlanta
Ditto. Except it wasn't a good game. I did have a lot of fun, though, I just don't remember any of it.

XXXIV St.Louis 23 Tennessee 16
I watched this one at SEBy's downstairs neighbors' house. I do remember the ending, but the main thing I remember about this game was it had the spread to end all spreads. Damn, that was some good eats.

XXXV BALTIMORE 34 NY Giants 7
Don't remember a thing about this one other than how dangerous brownies can be. I do remember CJ in a corner, totally glazed over, half drooling and unable to talk through most of it. I think this one was the one where Britney and N'Sync rocked out to Aerosmith and thinking that we, as a nation, couldn't sink anymore culturally even if we tried.

XXXV NEW ENGLAND 20 St.Louis 17
I would like to say that this game, the one right after 9/11 and the one with U2 and the one with Adam Venuteri's field goal to win it was something that I'd remember forever, but I mainly remember this game as yet more misadventures with Medical Marijuana as someone brought the World's Biggest Joint. That joint will go down in history.


XXXVII Tampa Bay 48 Oakland 21
I watched this game mainly with a bunch of lesbians. Don't ask.

XXXVIII New England 32 Carolina 29
The Nipple Shot Heard Round the world and nobody I saw this one with even knew what happened. Which just goes to show just how ridiculous the whole thing was. Most of us found out when somebody went online after the game and saw it on ESPN.com. I do remember that I made a point of watching this game as it was pretty good, but I was so stressed out about being unemployed I couldn't really get into it. I also remember everyone's disappointment when the World's Biggest Joint didn't make another appearance.

Yeah, I know. No posting lately.

Sorry.

Going to take the rest of the week off. I'm fighting off a cold, having a bit of an issue with the ole carpal tunnel (who knew spending eight hours on a computer at work then five hours at home could be bad for you?), and out a lot this week.

So check in on Monday for something. I hope.

Oh, and Go Iggles!

This weekend, in the hood, both the Jehovah's Witnesses and the Mormons were going door-to-door, saving souls. I wonder, though, if they say have their territories. Do they just double-up on people and let the best God win? Or do like the Mormons get everything up from 24th and the Witnesses' have everything below 24th? And if so, how did that work out? And what happens if one starts crossing into the other religions' territory? And if one religion does, is there a rumble? Does it get all West Side Story?

Now, that's a great parody if ever there was. Just imagine the songs: "I want to live in Utah" or "I feel Holy." And imagine lyrics like "When you're a Mormon/You're a Mormon all the way/From your first Jesus Jammie/To your last dyin' day."

I went to that super-Swank bar Jade last night with friends. Now, first of all, shouldn't there be some sort of notice outside the bar or on the bar's Web site that you have to sport the Nick Lachey, button-down untucked shirt look? Cause nobody told me and, boy, did I look out of place in my sweater. And second of all, I thought this was all some sort of media concoction, but it turns out that there are some guys who actually do wear blazers when they go out to a bar. Go figure.

We went to the bar for somebody 's birthday, somebody we kind of konw. This girl, it turns out, runs in a fairly different crowd than the typical crowd I hang out with (or who I went with). One of her friends was wearing a really low-cut blouse to show off what was fairly obvious from even afar was a fairly impressive rack. It wasn't until you got a somewhat semi-closer look at the pair that within seconds it become obvious that her fairly impressive rack was more the result of a really bad boob-job than genetics. I just one quick glance and my well-honed Skinemax seasoned eyes figured it out within seconds. Call me old fashioned, but is the point of getting a boob job so that everyone can tell it's a boob job? And is the reaction you want people to have is "wow, what a bad boob job?"

For those who haven't been to Jade, it's a fairly small place made bigger by it being three floors. To get out from the top floor, you have to walk down the steps which takes you to the side of the bar, where the bathrooms are. Since the bar was super-crowded, there was a large congregation of beautiful people hanging out pretty much right by the bathrooms. As I was leaving, I couldn't help but notice that somebody who was in one of the bathrooms was doing quite a number in there. And I could also tell that I wasn't the only one who noticed because a whole group of blondes were standing around sniffing their noses, trying to figure out if acknowledging the farting was worth the loss in fabulousness. Which, I found it is- everyone who was standing by the bathroom quickly lurched into the crowd to get away from it all.

One more thing about last night. Word on the streets is that the new hip drink is the mojito. Whatever. Problem is that bartenders HATE it's trendiness. They hate it because they have to crumple up the mint leaves and crush the sugar and on a crowded night like last night when all the Nicky Lachey and Paris Hilton wannabe's were ordering mojito's (one dude behind me ordered three of them) it means that much more work. It's the cocktail equivelant of ordering a half-caf, lo-fat, soy milk late at Starbucks.

Talk about a total suck-ass bunch of Oscar noms. Maybe worst nominations ever. Seriously. Is "the Aviator" even that good? Does anyone seriously think that in five or ten years, people are going to say "'Wow, the Aviator, I love that movie!" Does anyone think that when VH-1 does the inevitable "I Love 2004" they'll even talk about "The Aviator?" And yeah, I know people are saying it has a chance to win partly because Scorcese hasn't won yet and it'll be a Lifetime thing, but the fact he didn't win for "Taxi Driver" or "Raging Bull" or "Goodfellas" shows how lame the Academy Awards are.

Of course, I haven't seen the movie.

And don't even get me started on "Finding Neverland." Puh-lease. Has anyone even seen it?

Then there's poor Paul Giamatti who totally got screwed. We all know that if Brad Pitt had played the role and purposely gained ten or fifteen pounds to play it (with itenirant cover story's in People Magazine about how he put on the weight and how he lost it) and purposely made himself look ugly, thus showing what a "brave" actor he is, he would have been nominated. Except, of course, Brad Pitt can't really act so it never would have happened. And how did the dude who directed "Eternal Sunshine" not get nominated?

But then again, what do I know. I thought the best movies of the year were Spiderman II, the Incredibles, and Hero.

I wasn't home last night so I set up my VCR to record the Big Fox Sunday Night- new Arrested Development and an hour of Family Guy. There was nothing I was looking forward to more than coming home tonight and watching both those shows and the NFL recaps on "Around the Horn" and "Pardon the Interruption," shows I tape daily. That's some mighty fine TV viewing.

Came home and get ready to watch the shows and realized something- after I had taken out the movie I rented over the weekend (Napoleon Dynamite), I forgot to put the blank tape in.

D'oh!

And yes, just another sign that I need Tivo.

Don't know if you've seen these photos of my girl yet but damn.

That's h-o-t-t.

As a reader on Whatevs said: "I kind of dig her trashy style. she seems like the sort of gal who would totally make out with me if we met at a bar and i told her i bet my friends i could kiss her. what i mean is, she would not only kiss me, but she would do it up right, and, perhaps, bust out with a raucous rebel yell at the end."

Don't know if you've seen these photos of my girl yet but damn.

That's h-o-t-t.

As a reader on Whatevs said: "I kind of dig her trashy style. she seems like the sort of gal who would totally make out with me if we met at a bar and i told her i bet my friends i could kiss her. what i mean is, she would not only kiss me, but she would do it up right, and, perhaps, bust out with a raucous rebel yell at the end."

I'm getting off BART escalator tonight when I realize that there's this panhandler dude completely in the way. He's sitting there on some box, with one of those electric keyboards on his lap, getting ready to play. All this right in front of the Exit. As a result, everyone has to make a sharp left or a sharp right to get out of his way.

But that's not the best part. That part would be the fact that from the way he was staring off at things and the large cane he had by his side, it was obvious he was also totally blind.

That's so not going to end well.

I love those moments where you're at someplace completely random and you think you see somebody you know, somebody who you're also not quite sure you want to see so you try and see whether it's the person you think it is by glancing over in their direction. But you can't tell, so you stare a little big longer. When you stare, however, they notice you staring so they start staring back. Which, of course means, you have to pretend you're not staring and so look away. But at this point, you're totally invested in knowing whether or not this person is who you think it is so you keep on stealing glances over their way only to find that they're staring back at you. And, of course, once you both realize that you're staring at each other, you both quickly look away to pretend that you're not staring at each other.

Now, on the one hand, they're staring at you so that could be a sign of recognition, but on the other hand, they could be staring at you only because you're constantly staring at them. As a result you can never quite get a good look at them and when the time comes to go, you wind up never really knowing whether or not it was that person to begin with.

Of course, you could go over and see if it's them, but that would be way to easy.

R.I.P Johnny Carson.

Luckily, it was a busy day at work, but today was kind of hard because there's a whole bunch of Web sites that I couldn't even go near just because of that thing that was happening back in DC today. I couldn't even make it through Wonkette. And it's almost not even worth turning on the TV tonight because it's just going to be stories about him and all of his minions. Who needs that? I'm not even going to watch "The Daily Show" tonight.

It's really happening, isn't it?

I also see that there's huge protests going on in the City today and tonight. Good one. That's so worked over the past four years. I also notice that John Kerry was one of two Senators to vote against Condi's confirmation. He even sent me an e-mail explaining why he did it. Way to take a stand, there John. Maybe if you would have done that a few years earlier, we wouldn't be in this mess.

Oh well. At least it sounds like Britney's pregnant. Nothing like a little joy in a dark, dark world.

It's 10 o'clock at night and I have a dilemna- on one channel, I Love the 90's Part Deux- 1993. On another channel is a new episode of Charmed. And finally, while I'm not watching the Real World regularly, I did notice that the big promised vacation fight was going to air tonight between the slutty girl with daddy problems and the bitchy cool girl who tries to pretend she's too cool to appear on the show even though she tried out and agreed to be on it. So my problem? What to watch. Or, more like, how to flip through the channels so I can watch all the good stuff on each show.

Since many of you have seen my TV flipping prowess and wondered just how I do it, I'll let you in on how I do it.

Here's my thinking going into it- I know I Love the 90's is going to be repeated ad naseum over the days, weeks and months. I also know that there's no point in watching the Real World until the throw down comes down. But, I watched the first half of the new Charmed episode last Sunday while flipping back and forth between it and the Simpsons. Since the main thing I want to watch is the throw down, I base my center of operations on the Real World and since VH-1 is just a flick up on the remote, that will be option #2. When the Real World ends at 10:30, it'll be when all the parts I didn't see on Charmed starts up (I watched Arrested Development at 8:30 sunday night instead) and utilize the last button to flip back to VH-1 when a commercial comes on, the episode drags, or it's something I saw during Arrested Development's commercial breaks. And that was the plan.

Problem, though. While I want to watch the parts of the Real World that pertain to the fight, the slutty girl with daddy issues is ho'ing around which means I'm more invested in the Real World than I wanted to be. Okay, I can catch up on I Love tomorrow at 7 and 8 and the Charmed episode really wasn't that good. Unfortunately, the slutty girl doesn't actually get any and the fight doesn't actually go anywhere as both people act somewhat mature about it (or, as much as narcisstic attention whores can). But just as I give up on the Real World, they eavesdrop on two roomates going at it complete with all sorts of heavy breathing going on. I'm stuck on the Real World some more.

Real World ends so back to Charmed. It's a bit I've seen so I flip back to Vh-1 and watch that up until they start in with Tiny Toons. Don't care about Tiny Toons so I flip back to Charmed. Commercial. Uh oh, I'm stuck. What to do...what to do....oh, I know- Skinemax! Flip to Skinemax, watch a few minutes and back to Charmed. Charmed ends early so flip back to VH-1 and catch the bit about "True Romance."

And with that, it's 11 which means only one thing- "The Daily Show."

I know what you're saying, gosh Hooray for Anything, what an exciting Tuesday night. And you would be correct.

Thank God Fox brought back "The Family Guy." Love that show.

"Honey, you're a McDonald, not a whore!" Ha!

Speaking of McDonald's, I finally saw "Supersize Me" this weekend. And yes, good movie. I actually came away from it feeling kind of good in a weird way only because while I certainly can't say I have that healthy of diet, I realize it could be much, much worse. Other than the occasional Mickey D's breakfast (which obviously doesn't count because Egg McMuffin's are perfectly healthy for you), I don't eat at McDonald's. Ever. I think the amount of times I've eaten there over the past five, six years could be counted on one hand. As for Crap in the Box, Wendy's, KFC, Burger King, pretty much the same. Maybe once or twice each over the past ten years. And in all that time, I've gotten a burger there maybe once or twice. And I don't drink cokes, don't drink them at all (we're only talking about cokes, right? Not whiskey & cokes, right? That doesn't count as a coke, right?)

In fact, as I was watching it and they were interviewing people who eat there a couple of times a week, I had that Red State/Blue State feeling (Redstatenfraude?). You know, that feeling you get whenever you read or see something about dumb-ass hicks and their dumb-ass attitudes. Seriously, is fast food that good? Is a McDonalds' burger really worth eating two to three times a week? And while there may not be any other choice in say, Bum Fuck Mississippi (which, by the way, just celebrated Robert E. Lee Day as well as Martin Luther King Day. I've said this before and I'll say this again- we in the Blue States will stop thinking you people are a bunch of stupid racist crackers when you stop acting like a bunch of stupid, racist crackers) people in California should no better. We have In N' Out Burgers- there's no excuse for a Whopper. And I don't even know where to begin with the guy who drank two gallons of Coke a day.

Layoffs. Friday morning. A phone call comes in from the boss, a meeting is held and a job is lost.

I knew it was going to happen. I had heard but didn't even think about it. Then, that morning, it happened. Black Friday. Thousands laid off from Super Mondo Corporation and thousands elsewhere. Just like that.

Afterwards, it was like a disaster had happened, some catastrophe. People walked around to see who was okay, who wasn't. Tschotschke's still in cube- they're safe. Suddenly cleaned out cubicle- not safe. I'd pass someone in the hallway with jacket on and boxes full, the walk of the dead. Survivors clung to each other in thanks. People cried. Phone calls were made to others to see if they made it. Phone calls were sent out to loved ones letting them know if they made it.

I knew that it wasn't going to affect me or anyone in my department. I had heard from various people that we were safe, that as we were already technically outsource, it wouldn't make any sense to outsource the outsource. I had heard too that as contractors, we didn't matter, didn't count. We were ".misc items" on the budget. I was never so thankful for not mattering. That still didn't mean a feeling of dread came over me whenever the phone rang. I felt for the people who weren't sure and what it must have been like sitting there, watching as one-by-one, coworkers were called and then the phone would ring for them. We had just merged with another department, one full of full-time workers, and we sat amidst them and tried to go about our daily routine as half of them got laid off. To the other side, an entire section was gone, decimated. The other deparment in our section had made it, survived, and spent most of the day in the bosses office, in tears, watching the whole thing go down.

I had work to do that day. We in my department all did. And as we went about our jobs, treating it like a normal work day, we knew it wasn't. And all day, I was thinking to myself- so this is what it's like to have layoffs and not be the one who gets laid off?

I know for sure that heat renders me pretty much useless. Gets above 85 and I'm done. I thought I was good in the winter, hell, I kept on telling people, I don't mind the cold. Just put on some more clothes and viola. But for whatever reason, as soon as it got cold here, I've been overcome with just an awful case of blah. I don't care about anything, not motivated about anything, don't feel like doing anything. I would say I've been lazier than normal (if that's possible) but I did start going to the gym which I guess would be the ultimate opposite of being lazy, but I still feel like it. I've been going into work late, leaving early. I have problems leaving my computer during the day to even walk around. I've lost track of what date it is. I totally forgot about a party I was supposed to go to. At night, I come home and watch TV/surf the Web. Other than joining the gym, I have accomplished some things. I am writing a lot, albeit not for this here blog. And I've gotten into "Lost" which I'm actually quite excited about. That's accomplishments enough, isn't it?

Today I think I figured out why I'm like this. Because it's fucking cold. Seriously. It's cold in my apartment but still kind of comfortable, especially as I have a heater and a brand new electric blanket (try getting out of bed in the morning with an electric blanket). I sit there and think about doing things, things involving going outside but then think to myself why the hell would I do something like that- it's cold out there? Why go from someplace that's somewhat cold to a place that's even colder? Even going to the movies involves some sort of time outside where it's cold. Why would I want to do that?

So I sit there at home. I read, I surf, I watch TV, I try to stay warm. And I wonder how I ever made it of my mother's womb.

Every once in awhile, I still get e-mails from the John Kerry campaign for money or for meet-ups (talk about excitement) or to send e-mails to Democratic members of congress telling them to at least long a little stronger when they totally whimp out. I don't want e-mails from the John Kerry campaign. The elections over, you blew it, you blew it big time- get out of my e-mail. Seriously, I'm so over you, John Kerry.

I know, yoga is all about focus, about mind/body, about clearing your head and letting being in, but still- it's awfully hard to do focus when the guy two people down from you hasn't showered in like three days. That stench was so bad it lingered even after he moved away.

Also, is it a dis when you have to partner up with someone and the somewhat cute girl next to you tells the teacher that she needs a partner the second you've left to go get the both of you one of those plastic brick thingies? Or when the teacher anounces that the next pose will be up against the wall and the girl waits for a second, then goes to the complete opposite wall from where you're headed? A wall that pretty much nobody goes to?

Someday, when America has gone the way of Rome or the Mayans or the Babylonians, historians will be able to look back at this moment and say "yep, that's when it all went to hell."

Vince Neil ties the knot in Vegas

LAS VEGAS, Nevada (AP) -- Looks like the days of "Girls, Girls, Girls" are over for Motley Crue frontman Vince Neil.

Neil, 43, the band's lead singer, married girlfriend Lia Gerardini, 37, Sunday at the Four Seasons hotel.

With MC Hammer officiating, the pair exchanged vows in front of a celebrity crowd that included Tommy Lee, Nikki Sixx, Dennis Rodman and Playboy Playmate Brande Roderick, the Las Vegas Review-Journal reported.

Okay, I admit it- seeing a naked Mini-Me drunkenly ride around on his scooter butt-ass naked was pretty darn funny.

A couple of days ago, the new Creative Director at work came by and asked if I needed a new computer. Now other than a few bugs, my computer works perfectly fine so I don't really need a new computer. But when somebody comes by and offers you a chance of getting a new computer, you're gonna say hell yeah.

Anyways, this morning he sent me an e-mail asking me to detail what might be wrong with my computer so he could justify the expense in getting me a new computer. For various reasons (too busy Web surfing to answer the question) I never responded to the e-mail. Then, after lunch, I went to go take a piss and ran into him in the bathroom. He was just flossing away and so I told in passing that I was sorry I didn't reply and that I'd do it later this afternoon. A quick, concise in-and-out, nobody gets hurt kind of answer. So I go past the little dividing wall and, well, start to unzip. It's here that, while still in the middle of flossing, he let's me know that I could tell him right there and then so I didn't have to trouble myself in e-mailing him back.

Okay, now he's flossing. I am about to piss. In fact, as he said what he said, my flag was unfurled as it were. And here he is asking a semi-business-related question. Now, as most guys know, talking in the men's room, especially at work, is a touchy thing. Some guys like to do it, others don't. This may come as a bit of a surprise, but I am definitely not a piss n'talk kind of guy but I can deal. But one thing you don't do while pissing away, however, is ask a semi-serious kind of question. Oh, you can jabber away or make small talk, but not a serious kind of question. This is because by asking a semi-serious question, it means that one has to actually sort-of acknowledge the other person which means acknowledging what the person is doing which means being cognizant of the fact that pissing is involved and pissing is kind of a personal thing. It's also a bit awkward because since one has to acknowledge the other, it means one has to give some attention to the other person which would mean looking at the other person and, DEAR GOD SOMEBODY MIGHT ACTUALLY SEE YOUR PENIS!!!!!

Umm….where was I? Oh yeah. So he's flossing and I'm pissing and I'm a little stunned by it all so actually tell him "hold on a sec…" and then finish my task. Then I wash up and move a huge distance away from him just so I tell the still flossing Creative Director that my e-mail is kind of screwy and that it occasionally doesn't work and that while it's nothing major I'm not going to turn down the chance for a new computer.

And with that, I got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

You know what I hate about this weather? That because it's all cold and rainy, everyone's got a bad case of cabin fever so everyone has all this pent up energy. Including, of course, yours truly who told several people that in no uncertain terms that I wanted to "tear it up" over the weekend. Then the weekend comes, the moment to tear it up arises, and it's so cold and wet and rainy that On Demand TV suddenly seems like the greatest invention in the history of mankind.

How much does On Demand Rock? You can watch a movie at home without having to actually go out in the rain to return it. How awesome is that?

I went thrift-store shopping this weekend, looking to retool my winter wardrobe. When I was younger, of course, I was into the idea of getting clothes from thrift-stores because it's grungy and the grungier the better. Then I got older and started being embarrassed by the fact I was still continuously buying some clothes at thrift stores. That's what happens when you're over thirty and mainly unemployed and have to shop at thrift stores because it's all you could afford. I'd look at all the poor people also shopping there for clothes and wonder if that, kind of proud offspring of the Main Line, made me one of the poor too.

Now that I'm working, I can afford to not buy clothes at thrift stores anymore. I can walk right into the Gap and not only buy last season's discounted colors, but also this season's colors. But even though I could (and did a few months ago), I was feeling the need for sweaters (I love sweaters) and some not so-fancy but still nice button-down shirts so I decided to go thrift-store hunting. Why spend $50 on a new sweater when you can possibly get a really nice (even cashmere!) sweater for $5?

Okay, so yeah, I'm kind of cheap.

So anyways, I'm checking out thrift stores in the Mission and I realized that there appears to be two types of thrift stores in the neighborhood- the one's for the immigrants (read poor people) and the one's for the hipsters. It's like the King of Prussia Mall back home which had two sections two it- the one where all the rich Main Line types went and the other one where all the white trash-y Catholic School kids went to. The one's where mainly immigrants shopped, nary a hipster would be seen. Go into the hipster thrift store and nary an immigrant is to be seen. And so I started to wonder, why is it the hipsters mainly goto the hipster thrift store? Is it because the clothes were usually a bit cooler? Or is it because shopping for clothes in a thrift store in which actual poor people shopped made the silliness of the déclassé pose that much more obvious?

Oh, and while at the hipster thrift store, I couldn't but help notice that the mix tape that the workers had put on to play in the background included U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name." Maybe it's because I've lived in the Mission for far too long but I started to break down the possible meaning, the semiotics as it were, of playing "Where the Streets Have No Name" on the tape. After all, it's probably the un-coolest U2 song they've done, making it one of the uncoolest songs ever- it's big sounding and symphonic, earnest and heart-felt, passionate and stirring. In other words, it's everything that according to the prevailing norms of what is cool and what isn't, isn't cool. And when I say not cool I don't mean that the song isn't any good (I think the song maybe one of the greatest songs ever created), I just mean it's not "cool." It's definitely not lo-fi and it's the complete opposite of obscure or indie. The lyrics aren't enigmatic or murkily oblique (like Pavement) and most importantly, it's meant to be played in huge stadiums where a huge audience sings along while waving lighters. So why would the hipsters who work there play it? It could be the person who made the mix tape was feeling nostalgic but the song is still played enough on the radio to make it feel current. And it could have been done ironically but the song is way too good and way too earnest to work ironically. I mean, I'd expect to hear Bon Jovi or Phil Collins played at one of those thrift stores before I'd hear "Where the Streets Have no Name". Could it be then that the person who created the mix tape just thinks it's a great song and wanted to put it on their tape? Is that even possible? Wouldn't they loose their cool cache in playing the song? Or maybe that's the hook then, it's so uncool that they think it's cool? Or maybe they just like the song?

My head hurts just thinking about it.

In light of this weekends big news, that, of course, being the breakup of Brad & Jen, Hooray For Anything would like to ponder the question of what it must be like for the next few lucky campers who get to date Jennifer Aniston. Our big wonder is what it must be like for the guy to date her as it is the nature of things that upon dating someone new, all guys think that the girl's ex was some sort of Brad Pitt figure who they could never compare to. Except, in case of the person all set to date Jen, the ex actually was Brad Pitt.

So our Sainted Mayor is getting a divorce from the wifey. For those outside the little bubble that is San Francisco, it's like when Jen & Ben broke up. It's all so sad in that those crazy kids seemed made for each other. And I'm thinking to myself, geez, I have a bad date and I'm depressed for days. But I'm me- I do nothing of any importance. I'm not the mayor. Wouldn't it suck to be totally heartbroken and not only have to go on with it, but to also be the Mayor of the City? It's not like you can lie around the bed all day listening to "Losing My Religion" in your bathrobe if you're the mayor. And it's not like you cancel meetings because Kim was rumoured to have gone out on a date with someone else and you're too upset to have a meeting. Imagine being all broken hearted and depressed and having to be told to buck up little camper because you have meeting with Head of the Sanitation Department to go over sewage.

But I'm also thinking he's rich, he's good-looking, and he's the Mayor for crissakes. Plus, he always has this kind of hangdog look on his face, one that will probably be accentuated because it's sounding like Kimmy broke his heart because she wanted to be some stupid Court TV reporter, and he's going to look even more yummier now. In other words, imagine the tail he's gonna be getting. I'm pretty sure every socialite, debutante, Social X-Ray, and Spinster just put him on the he's mine list. In terms of lines, how can it get any better than "oh, I'm the Mayor."

In fact, if I were the producers of the "Bachelor," well, hello? Can you imagine the ratings on that sucker if he's the Bachelor?

From a horoscope in today's Examiner:

Once every 12 years, each sign gets a super hit of fun, romance, parties and vacations -- and this year it's your turn. Wunderbar! Never resist temptation because it may not come your way again. (And don't worry about avoiding it -- as you get older, it starts avoiding you!)

A peek down the rabbit hole
While your job improves beautifully in 2006, your close partnerships get all sweet and cozy in 2007. (Smoochie boochies!)

So, according to this horoscope I'm about to entere a once-every twelve years cycle in which I get a super hit fun. Smoochie boochies, even.

Rock on.

Obvious questions is what about the other eleven years? And again, not to get too excited, but how many look-ahead type horoscopes say things like "sorry, dude, this year is going to suck?"

Christ, I have nothing tonight. Sorry.
Things really have gotten kind of boring lately now that I'm working.

So there's a telethon now and celebrities everywhere are donating money and the news is now wall-to-wall tsunami and it's totally evil and wrong for me to say this, but I'm beginning to think that this whole tsunami relief thing is like the AIDS ribbon of 2004. It's just so chic. And everyone right now totally cares because everyone is supposed to care and everyone does care so if everybody is giving money then well, darn right I'll give money (I actually gave money a few days after the waves hit, before it was trendy). It's such the trend right now that I'm counting down the days before the inevitable benefit concert/benefit single gets released. You know Sting's on the phone with Elton John.

And while all this is good and every dollar counts, we all know that we're one mysteriously disappearing cute white girl away from going back to "…and Sri Lanka's where, exactly?"

And so I actually had my one-on-one confrontation. Or, would have if I wasn't such a chicken about one-on-one confrontations and managered up as it were. Something went wrong at work, something that I shouldn't have let go so wrong, and I got the snippy phone conversation followed by the e-mail with attitude this morning. The person who I had the issue with is somebody who comes off as one of the sweetest, nicest people you'll ever meet but she can front some attitude when needed. All of which makes it that much more cutting when she gets snippy. How she does it is that she still maintains that really sweet voice, but changes the tone just a smidge, just a pinch and throws just the barest hint of attitude behind it, and it makes it all that much more cutting. It's one thing when people get confrontational or even psycho about something. It's another thing entirely when uses subtlety. It's the difference between a hammer and a sharp knife. The thing is too is that I'm beginning to think she knows exactly what she's doing. That she uses her sweetness to try and pull things, like we're kind of putty in her hands because she's just so gosh darn nice.

And you know what the thing is? She is so gosh darn nice.

Why do I love the internet? Because thanks to the internet, it's entirely possible for somebody to post a poll online of what the best nude scene of the past year is, then not only post the results, but show pictures of the scenes.

That, it goes without saying, is awesome.

Around last year at this time I posted what my horoscope said last year (2004) would be like. So I thought it would be fun to look at what was predicted and see how accurate it was. I always kind of thought it would interesting to read horoscopes the day after a horoscope to see how true it was, but I always forgot. Now, thanks to the magic of blogging, I can do that. Wee! See, that's what happens when I've been declared the Person of the Year by ABC News. Well, not necessarily me, but still.

But I digress.

Anyways, let's look at last year's crystal ball, shall we?

The big prediction for 2004 was that the year was going to be "green." Whatever the hell that meant. I'm not exactly sure whether or not that meant that I was going to become a hippie and move to Sonoma or smoke a lot of bud. Since neither happened, I'm going to say that maybe it's about money, since green is, of course, the color of money. Which, in a way, kind of happened in that now, I'm making the Benjamins. Score one for Minerva. It also said that "hard earned gains will be solidified" which one can interpret as the fact that I finally might have got myself on several career track type things, or, at least, I'm pretty settled in several things, not the least of which is a job. Score two for Minerva. And finally, I got that 2004 promised luck with "both family and real estate." Real Estate? Umm, no. "Family?" Well, my brother got married, which is definitely bully for him, and I got a trip to Chile out of it, which is bully for me, so we'll call that a draw.

Another horoscope by Minerva said that March 20 will be the day that "Mars, Mr. Aggressive, charges headlong into your sign. You better believe the earth will move for you. This very special spring equinox finds you kicking tail and taking names." I looked back on my blog to around March 20th to see if anything happened around then and I'm pretty sure there was no earth moving, let alone kicking tail and taking names. Lots of bad temp jobs and disastrous interviews, however. On my birthday, "I will "make a financial decision that will affect the next two years" and that kind of came true in some sort of way in that on my birthday, after spending a large part of it drinking with all sorts of friends and getting fourth row seats at a Giants game, decided to give looking for work here one final last push. End result- see mention above about the Benjamins. And finally, I got this, that on Nov. 26th I should "Enjoy -- hopefully! -- a pleasant preview …. when the full moon beams directly on you." Hmm… I spent Nov. 26th in Vina Del Mar Chile with that kick-ass hotel room with a deck overlooking the ocean and I did spend a bit of the night on the deck drinking a Corona, listening to tunes, and thinking how beautiful everything was. That's kind of eerie in a way. I mean, it's not like I spent that night in my apartment watching Skinemax. I doubt by preview she meant that afterwards, I'll be spending a large part of my life drinking Corona's overlooking a beach in South America but If it's a preview in a symbolic sense of the matter, I'm down. Still, however, waiting.

Then there was my favorite horoscope, my Party Horoscope which told me that I'll be hanging out at "the Grand Café" with of "ghosts of every lover you've ever had or wished you'd had." Pretty sure that didn't happen, although since I'm not exactly sure what it all meant, I can't tell for sure. Since I wasn't all thrilled with the idea of the prediction, I'm okay with it not happening.

So that's it. And, in all actuality, it's kind of close in certain things. I did make a decision on my birthday, I did soak up the full moon on Nov 26th and last year ended with it being "green."

As Keanu would say, "woah."


Now let's check out what's in store for yours truly and I'm crossing my fingers that the there's lots of references to "rock star" and "party like" in it.

First the main one, which says that " Pssst! You may not have heard yet (nope) but Jupiter has a message for Twins everywhere(cool). Fun and games head your 2005 agenda(!). The world is your pasture, Gem, go forth and graze (moo). Among the delectables: new loves or mega fun with ongoing ones(!!) and opportunities to star creatively" (hear that Jackson?) Oh, "plus improved interactions with kids" which, well, whatever. I also have a note that "the combined force of Mars, Mercury and Venus demand that you address a one-on-one issue this week" which is a scary way to start the week in that as of right now, I have no " one-on-one issues" to address. Other than being bored out of my skull, the SS. Hooray For Anything is sailing in some pretty easy-going waters these days. Should I be worried?

Onto the next horoscope

"Our personal year takes off in a fateful way with the new moon in your sign on June 6 (great. Does this mean it's going to be a pretty boring next six months?) The next great thing is the departure of Saturn from your money house on July 16. Ding dong, the witch is dead. You've dealt with that tough love nanny far too long. (Yeah! No more credit card debt! Which means hello new computer, new car, and two week trip to Spain come August). Expect dramatic action in the partnership department after Pluto goes direct in your one-on-one house Sept. 2. (guess this means I need to get a date for that night). The full moon in your sign Dec. 15 holds a moment of truth..(like what? Doesn't that sound kind of ominious? Doesn't it make that night sound like it's going to be a "very Special Episode" kind of night?).

Sadly, no "Party horoscope" which is kind of alright considering.

Well, that's what my 2005 is supposed to be like. I know- sounds kind of good. On the other hand, how many horoscopes do you read that say things like "you will be horribly crushed by some girl on a date, your boss will make you hate work, and some awful tragedy will be befall your pet."

And on a cold, dreary, rainy Wednesday night it happened- I got into "Lost." I knew it was only a matter of time. I'm pretty happy about it too- I haven't been really absorbed into a big, hour-long drama since "Buffy" since I've felt like there's a big hole in my life since then.

Today I went to the Castro to go see "West Side Story." I know, how gay could I be? In fact, as I was sitting around thinking about what movie to see, it was the only reason why I could think of not seeing it and realized that it's a pretty dumb reason not to see it so I saw it. Why not? It's a classic- a great movie, good music (for a musical) and about as Americana as it gets. Plus, I'd get to piss off all those people who have their panties in a bunch over the Castro for firing their long-time program coordinator and are calling for a boycott and protest of the theater (some people protest their election being thrown and their leader being poisoned, other people protest over a movie theater).


When I was younger I'd do anything to not have anything to do with musicals, a reaction to my mother's obsessive love with them and the realization that people bursting out into song at any moment is extremely cheesy. Now that I'm older, I still can't say I've embraced musicals, but my appreciation of the cheesiness of them is slowly giving way to just plain old appreciation of them. I do have to admit, however, that as hard as I tried, I could never get past the fact that the movie is supposed to be about tough New York gang members who also happen to do ballet moves while walking down the street. At one point, the members of the Jets would each say something about how tough and strong they were and to prove it, would do pirouettes. That's so gangsta. It reminded of a great skit on SNL from years ago (the Norm McDonald era) where they showed a gang about to get ready for a big rumble by practicing their dance moves. Then the other gang arrived and the rumble began and as the gang started to do their little dance moves, the other gang just moved in and kicked the shit out of them.

It was pretty funny.

I also have to admit too that during the big fight in West Side Story, when Riff and Bernardo got into it and they flash to both of them drawing their pocket knives, I sort of expected an Eddie Van Halen guitar solo and Michael Jackson to appear.

You ain't bad……