So, a 60 year old man is suing an 8 year old for $75,000. What is he suing him over exactly? The ski slopes. The mountain. This old time activity of strapping boards or whatever to your feet and throwing yourself down a hill. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes out of control, hopefully not out of control. Sometimes with a helmet on, most times not. Sometimes with other people getting in your way. Trying to stay out of their way. This old activity, sport that thousands of American's take part in every winter.
The 60 year old man was on a cat track. For those of you unfamiliar with a cat track, it is a a flat part cut out of the hill that makes it easy to get from one part of the mountain to another. Often times it will go from one lift to another. The said 8 year old came up behind the man and accidentilly ran into his back side.
You can google this and there are a multitude of articles, forums, reports about what exactly happened. You can look it up yourself and read them, but here's my opinion. When you get on that mountain you are putting yourself in the line of fire. Accidents happen all the time. If I had a dollar for everytime someone ran into me when I was on the mountain! Ive had kids hit my calves, old women run over my board, and inexperienced teenagers swing their poles at my eye. It happens, but when it happens you use common sense and chill the **** out!
Last but not least, the dad was with his kid. More often than not when I see an out of control little tyke skier they are bombing down the mountain, no parent in sight. Im going to assume and take the stance that this father was watching over his child as controlling as he can in a very unexpected atmosphere.
This is just annoying.
Al Gore
I saw Al Gore the other day. Well not the other day, really a few weeks ago. He spoke at an event I was at. The event was a meet and greet, schmooz networking night out. With great food, great music, and a great group of people. My company did the video for the event. Which I think turned out pretty dang well.
Al Gore gave a great speech. It was cool to see him in person. Feel the energy of the night. Although I have to say, I was more moved by the everyday people in the community that spoke. They are the movers and shakers that want to make a difference and are putting forth everything to do so.
Van Jones was one of those people, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was running for office in the next 10 years. Hes powerful, intruiging, intelligent, driven, captivating. He's kind, genuine, and an overall leader. Keep your eyes peeled.
Al Gore gave a great speech. It was cool to see him in person. Feel the energy of the night. Although I have to say, I was more moved by the everyday people in the community that spoke. They are the movers and shakers that want to make a difference and are putting forth everything to do so.
Van Jones was one of those people, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was running for office in the next 10 years. Hes powerful, intruiging, intelligent, driven, captivating. He's kind, genuine, and an overall leader. Keep your eyes peeled.
The elevator in my building
The elevator in my buiding so super slow, especially considering there are only 4 floors. My excuse for not taking the stairs everyday is nothing more than I don't have a stair key. Which can be remidied by me asking to make a copy. Ive been here a year, and still haven't done that.
I get in the elevator, press 3 and the person behind me presses 2. Lady, there is less than 15 steps getting you from floor 3 to floor 2, down in fact. Yet you are going to make this ride even slower by insisting to stop on the 2nd floor. AHHHHGGHHHHH!
Its morning. Its raining. We both have coffee. Despite the fact that the lights illuminating the numbers are burnt out, and have been since ive worked in this building, we both insistently stare at them. Our heads raised upwards like that will make this damn gray box go faster. What other time does one avoid awkward forced conversation so much that we willingly stand still for minutes at a time starring upwards or starring downwards in the same spot? Actually I can think of a few situations, but thats not the point.
We arrive at floor two, 3 minutes longer than it would have taken us to climb the stairs. She exits and I decide to exit with her. "This isn't floor three" she says. Finally making eye contact with me. "I know", I reply, "I'm going to take the stairs".
So she goes her way, I turn the corner and take the steps to my floor. Where's that key, Im making a copy!
I get in the elevator, press 3 and the person behind me presses 2. Lady, there is less than 15 steps getting you from floor 3 to floor 2, down in fact. Yet you are going to make this ride even slower by insisting to stop on the 2nd floor. AHHHHGGHHHHH!
Its morning. Its raining. We both have coffee. Despite the fact that the lights illuminating the numbers are burnt out, and have been since ive worked in this building, we both insistently stare at them. Our heads raised upwards like that will make this damn gray box go faster. What other time does one avoid awkward forced conversation so much that we willingly stand still for minutes at a time starring upwards or starring downwards in the same spot? Actually I can think of a few situations, but thats not the point.
We arrive at floor two, 3 minutes longer than it would have taken us to climb the stairs. She exits and I decide to exit with her. "This isn't floor three" she says. Finally making eye contact with me. "I know", I reply, "I'm going to take the stairs".
So she goes her way, I turn the corner and take the steps to my floor. Where's that key, Im making a copy!
Zellerbach Hall
It has been a week since I got rocked. Harmony, beats, strums, broken-hearted voices, chipper banter wrapped into an enthralling confidence which is all too intriguing. I got sucked in. Convinced I got inspired. Broke open my paints, turned the volume up, and made a mess of myself. Im not a painter. Im not an artist. Im a post college graduate who hasn't taken well to a 9-5 and desperately wants to be creative. Whatever the hell that means.
By the end of the encore I was ready to hop into my 1982 Toyota van that looks like a mouse or a space ship (ive heard both comparisons) and take off. End up in a hole near Oklahoma or New Mexico. Blow in as the traveling free spirit. Mysterious, attractive, courageous, intelligent, charming. I have the world to offer and everyone wants it.
It hasn't rained that hard in awhile, and the walk back to the car was nothing but enjoyable. Despite every part of me being drenched. Last time I was in Berkeley it poured like that so my sister and I stripped down to our skimpy's for the ride home.
I found out my cousin was actually at the same show, closer seats than ours. Oh what taste she has. I wish I was that cool at the age of 16. Maybe that's what you get when you grow up 15 minutes from one of the hippest cities in the world. You can't help but be on the inside of every new sound and every new fashion. This rings true for people from Canada as well. Even people from the tiniest towns of Manitoba are ahead of the curve compared to the rest of the United States.
Case in point, the premature lesbian Canadian twins up on stage. Even if most of your songs remind me of break up, and I wish you would get a bit more inventive and experimental with those 6 guitars of yours. I still admire that you went for it.
So, thank you.
By the end of the encore I was ready to hop into my 1982 Toyota van that looks like a mouse or a space ship (ive heard both comparisons) and take off. End up in a hole near Oklahoma or New Mexico. Blow in as the traveling free spirit. Mysterious, attractive, courageous, intelligent, charming. I have the world to offer and everyone wants it.
It hasn't rained that hard in awhile, and the walk back to the car was nothing but enjoyable. Despite every part of me being drenched. Last time I was in Berkeley it poured like that so my sister and I stripped down to our skimpy's for the ride home.
I found out my cousin was actually at the same show, closer seats than ours. Oh what taste she has. I wish I was that cool at the age of 16. Maybe that's what you get when you grow up 15 minutes from one of the hippest cities in the world. You can't help but be on the inside of every new sound and every new fashion. This rings true for people from Canada as well. Even people from the tiniest towns of Manitoba are ahead of the curve compared to the rest of the United States.
Case in point, the premature lesbian Canadian twins up on stage. Even if most of your songs remind me of break up, and I wish you would get a bit more inventive and experimental with those 6 guitars of yours. I still admire that you went for it.
So, thank you.
loud breathers
Why are you here and where did you come from? You stopped walking the stairs 15 minutes ago. I really don't appreaciate your warm, musky breathe on my neck thanks.
how I got regected
I need another job. Reason number one- I am running out of money. Reason number two- Too much free time and I get bored. Reason number three- Im not getting hit on at bars, I need to try a new venue.
Although I would like a restaurant job, Im not so sure Im willing to put in the time cruising up and down the streets begging every restaurant to hire me. Ive done that, it's worked, but I didn't feel like looking pitiful. I thought about working at REI. I still might. But getting the application back there is a pain in the ass. Its not on any main bus routes. And I would ride my bike there but the tire has been flat for weeks (never mind that there are like 4 bike shops within blocks of my house). Then a friend suggested getting a job at _________. ___________ I thought. Ok. Sounds easy enough. I wouldn't have to do much. Be friendly, smile, I would get to catch up on my gossip in People and US Weekly. Cake.
I applied, and a few days later, viola, I got a call. Well that feels nice. I walked in there like they were going to hand me the W-9 and I would be working by the weekend. And after the interviews it sure felt like that. To me Im pretty damn qualified. Im reliable. Educated. I don't mind cleaning toilets (I did do it for an entire summer once). Hell, If their not going to hire me, who are they going to hire?!
Well, a few days later and here I am. Rejected, and by an e-mail. Who does that? REI here I come. And yeah, Ill work weekends.
Although I would like a restaurant job, Im not so sure Im willing to put in the time cruising up and down the streets begging every restaurant to hire me. Ive done that, it's worked, but I didn't feel like looking pitiful. I thought about working at REI. I still might. But getting the application back there is a pain in the ass. Its not on any main bus routes. And I would ride my bike there but the tire has been flat for weeks (never mind that there are like 4 bike shops within blocks of my house). Then a friend suggested getting a job at _________. ___________ I thought. Ok. Sounds easy enough. I wouldn't have to do much. Be friendly, smile, I would get to catch up on my gossip in People and US Weekly. Cake.
I applied, and a few days later, viola, I got a call. Well that feels nice. I walked in there like they were going to hand me the W-9 and I would be working by the weekend. And after the interviews it sure felt like that. To me Im pretty damn qualified. Im reliable. Educated. I don't mind cleaning toilets (I did do it for an entire summer once). Hell, If their not going to hire me, who are they going to hire?!
Well, a few days later and here I am. Rejected, and by an e-mail. Who does that? REI here I come. And yeah, Ill work weekends.
dinner
Just when I thought I had seen everything in San Francisco a typical Tuesday night dinner was made memorable when an enormous gorilla wearing a pink tutu entered the $15/ plate tapas restaurant. I honestly can't get enough of this city. Just when I think its too small, or the streets are too dirty, or my corner is too loud. Something random like that happens and it makes me like the city even more.
football season 2007
What's really to say. Upset's all over the place. 49ers actually won. The Raiders actually weren't annoying. New York got kicked on either end. And the Pat's almost lost it to a team that hasn't shown much all season. What is going on. Oh wait, but there's more. How about college football. Missouri beat Kansas...what? UCLA shut out Oregon, and Hawaii is the only team 11-0.
Should be a slue of interesting bowl games.
Should be a slue of interesting bowl games.
child actors pullin it through
My loving, normal white picket fence, yet dysfunctional family took this weekend to enjoy the cinema, glued our eyes to the boob tube, and took many trips to the video store in search of a relaxing and satisfying film experience. This is our story.
I rarely buy the newspaper. Not because I don't enjoy reading it but because I don't have that much time to read the paper. Last week however I threw my 25cents down on the counter and picked up a paper. I read it on the bike as I pathetically got my body ready for the gorging of calories that was to follow. The date book section of the paper specifically caught my eye because it had three film reviews front and center. Im not one to read reviews of films, simply because If it appeals to me Im going to go, regardless! Well, silly me, I read these reviews, I took the seasoned advice of the film expert of the Chronicle, and gosh darn it how I was disappointed. Whoever wrote the outstanding review for Enchanted must expect five year olds to be the only people reading the reviews.
Every now and then when I catch a new Disney film come along and I am thankful that I grew up in a time of honest, amazing, entertaining, and captivating films (biased thoughts yes) such as Cinderella, Lion King, and Alladin. After reading the review I expected some hilarious Pixar like film that appeals to children but has inside humor for the adults. Oh no, how I was wrong. Besides the fact that I wish more films would screw the rules of Hollywood and break into song every so often, as this one did, it almost ruined my view of sexy Patrick Dempsey, and made me wish I could get my $10 back. I find Amy Adams to be an amazing actress, but her role was almost completely upstaged by the absolutely adorable Rachel Covey.
August Rush is one of the coolest names ever, too bad the film lacked attention to detail, pace, and story. Its as if she (Kirsten Sheridan the director) was in a rush to get to the big heartfelt finale, without really figuring out what excatly the story should be about. Most of the dialogue was unrealistic, most of the actions felt forced, and the first thirty minutes could have been cut altogether. It also reafirmed the fact that I still do not like Keri Russell's acting and despite how cute Jonathan Rhys Meyers is I would like to see him in a different type of role. maybe I should have watched The Tudor's. I am being really negative. On a positive note the doe eyed Freddie Highmore is amazing...as usual.
What am I complaining about really. I wasn't going to see any of these films in the theaters (renters) but got suckered in by the damn reviews and went. So really, its my fault.
note: im prepared to stick my foot in my mouth
I rarely buy the newspaper. Not because I don't enjoy reading it but because I don't have that much time to read the paper. Last week however I threw my 25cents down on the counter and picked up a paper. I read it on the bike as I pathetically got my body ready for the gorging of calories that was to follow. The date book section of the paper specifically caught my eye because it had three film reviews front and center. Im not one to read reviews of films, simply because If it appeals to me Im going to go, regardless! Well, silly me, I read these reviews, I took the seasoned advice of the film expert of the Chronicle, and gosh darn it how I was disappointed. Whoever wrote the outstanding review for Enchanted must expect five year olds to be the only people reading the reviews.
Every now and then when I catch a new Disney film come along and I am thankful that I grew up in a time of honest, amazing, entertaining, and captivating films (biased thoughts yes) such as Cinderella, Lion King, and Alladin. After reading the review I expected some hilarious Pixar like film that appeals to children but has inside humor for the adults. Oh no, how I was wrong. Besides the fact that I wish more films would screw the rules of Hollywood and break into song every so often, as this one did, it almost ruined my view of sexy Patrick Dempsey, and made me wish I could get my $10 back. I find Amy Adams to be an amazing actress, but her role was almost completely upstaged by the absolutely adorable Rachel Covey.
August Rush is one of the coolest names ever, too bad the film lacked attention to detail, pace, and story. Its as if she (Kirsten Sheridan the director) was in a rush to get to the big heartfelt finale, without really figuring out what excatly the story should be about. Most of the dialogue was unrealistic, most of the actions felt forced, and the first thirty minutes could have been cut altogether. It also reafirmed the fact that I still do not like Keri Russell's acting and despite how cute Jonathan Rhys Meyers is I would like to see him in a different type of role. maybe I should have watched The Tudor's. I am being really negative. On a positive note the doe eyed Freddie Highmore is amazing...as usual.
What am I complaining about really. I wasn't going to see any of these films in the theaters (renters) but got suckered in by the damn reviews and went. So really, its my fault.
note: im prepared to stick my foot in my mouth
bottom of the hill
My dear friend Pfenning invited me to a show last night. The Murmurs. The Murmurs I said, Ive heard of them. She then explained that it is Leisha Haleys Old Band. Yes, Leisha Haley who plays Alice on The L Word. The L Word. A show which went from intriguing, fresh, and colorful, to much like every other sitcom that plays at 7pm on the major networks, but I digress.
I enjoyed the Venue. It had a little of everything. Pool for the anxious. Pinball for the non-social. Patio for the smokers. The place was small and intimate, but not crowded. All in all Id go back.
The opening accordion playing folk pop punk boys were kind of delightful. But much like sounds ive heard before. The second opening band screamed a little too much for my liking, and failed to draw me in in any other way. Then Leisha Haleys band came on stage. For as famous as Leisha is, she looked a little unsettled. Not so much nervous as un seasoned. Like she was confident in their sound but not in her own shoes up on stage. They did put on a good performance that was highlighted when they pulled a women up from the audience to play air drums. It was pretty much the sickest thing Ive seen in awhile. They should hire her to do that at every show.
(thanks for the correction pfenning)
I enjoyed the Venue. It had a little of everything. Pool for the anxious. Pinball for the non-social. Patio for the smokers. The place was small and intimate, but not crowded. All in all Id go back.
The opening accordion playing folk pop punk boys were kind of delightful. But much like sounds ive heard before. The second opening band screamed a little too much for my liking, and failed to draw me in in any other way. Then Leisha Haleys band came on stage. For as famous as Leisha is, she looked a little unsettled. Not so much nervous as un seasoned. Like she was confident in their sound but not in her own shoes up on stage. They did put on a good performance that was highlighted when they pulled a women up from the audience to play air drums. It was pretty much the sickest thing Ive seen in awhile. They should hire her to do that at every show.
(thanks for the correction pfenning)
dude w/ a gun. evengelist on a mission.
We were on our way to Ocean Beach, via the N line, to watch the surfers. It was gorgeous outside...in the mission that is. Its almost always nice in the mission, which means its almost always shitty everywhere else. In my way to the bus the fog was rolling in over the city, and I knew it was going to be grey at the ocean, but whatever. It was a nice get away. And really, lets be honest. I was headed that direction to enjoy the little cafe thats right on the corner. None of this has really anything to do with the story, so, anyways, the N line.
We got on at Duboce. It was a long train, like three cars, and they were all packed. I take that back. There was one open seat at the very front. Only a medium sized gentleman was taking over with his knee and man purse. I hate it when people take up two seats when it is packed. Inconsiderate. So we took a spot at the front of the very front of the car, standing. Two stops later this thug like Asain dude gets on and stands right next to us. He could be anywhere from 18-26. After a few minutes he busts out (I use the word bust b/c he really was flashy and invasive) a rectangle thing thats about the size of a deck of cards and tucks it under the sweatband thats around his head. Im not sure if that was what was actually making noise, or if there was a stereo in his grocery bag between his legs, but something was blasting rap music. He was all thugged out. Bumping his head to the music. All of a sudden he pulls out a black hand gun, along with what looked like cartridges. He was moving his arm with the music as his hand is wrapped around the gun. After a few glances we saw that the gun had an orange painted tip. It was fake. Still, it was an awkward, attention getting, fear inducing act. The car was packed, there were children in the seats, and this guy wants to cause a ruckus.
The guy taking up the two seats started starring down the thug punk, and all of a sudden the punk looks at the older man and says, "Yo, can I shoot you". The older man then blurts out, "You need to find Jesus. You need to be saved. Hallelujah." Keep in mind no one in the car had really moved or made any effort to make eye contact with the crazy man holding the gun, so I respected and appreciated the two seat man standing up to the punk. Someone needed to. They continue back and forth. "Yo, blood. You need to find God." "Blood, you're wack." "Blood get saved." "Hallelujah." On and on. A few stops later the "gangsta" gets off, and im not going to lie, I was relieved.
The car thinned out eventually and a seat opened up in the front, coincidently next to the newspaper reading two seat hogging preacher. He starts talking to me. I look ahead. Smile, acknowledge im listening but am not engaging. See following conversation.
him: "You see those people. The ones holding the signs saying, God hates these people, God hates those people. You see those signs. Those people are crazy."
me: (silent, and starring ahead with a slight smile implying, crap, what have i gotten myself into)
him: "Those people aren't true Christians. Those people are crazy. Those people don't love, and that is the most important thing about being a Christian, is to love."
me: (silent, and starring ahead with a slight smile implying, crap, what have i gotten myself into)
him: "God doesn't hate us. God doesn't hate anyone, he hates sin. Jesus said, Jesus said the only way into the kingdom of heaven is to be saved. The flesh is flesh, the soul is the soul."
me: (silent, and starring ahead with a slight smile implying, crap, what have i gotten myself into)
him: "You know why you sat here don't you. You wanted to hear the message. Your soul wants to listen. I bet you've never read the Bible. I bet you've never heard this message before. I bet you own a Bible, but you've never read it. "
me: "Ive read the Bible."
him: "What parts."
me: "Doesn't matter."
him: "You know about marriage. Adam and Eve were the first married. Politics today, they are taking God out of everything, and that is wrong. I know you, I know your type. I know you."
me: "You know nothing about me."
him: "Sure I do. Hallelujah. Get saved. Have Jesus in your heart."
The surfers never were in the ocean. Because of the oil spill the beaches are all closed. Oops.
We got on at Duboce. It was a long train, like three cars, and they were all packed. I take that back. There was one open seat at the very front. Only a medium sized gentleman was taking over with his knee and man purse. I hate it when people take up two seats when it is packed. Inconsiderate. So we took a spot at the front of the very front of the car, standing. Two stops later this thug like Asain dude gets on and stands right next to us. He could be anywhere from 18-26. After a few minutes he busts out (I use the word bust b/c he really was flashy and invasive) a rectangle thing thats about the size of a deck of cards and tucks it under the sweatband thats around his head. Im not sure if that was what was actually making noise, or if there was a stereo in his grocery bag between his legs, but something was blasting rap music. He was all thugged out. Bumping his head to the music. All of a sudden he pulls out a black hand gun, along with what looked like cartridges. He was moving his arm with the music as his hand is wrapped around the gun. After a few glances we saw that the gun had an orange painted tip. It was fake. Still, it was an awkward, attention getting, fear inducing act. The car was packed, there were children in the seats, and this guy wants to cause a ruckus.
The guy taking up the two seats started starring down the thug punk, and all of a sudden the punk looks at the older man and says, "Yo, can I shoot you". The older man then blurts out, "You need to find Jesus. You need to be saved. Hallelujah." Keep in mind no one in the car had really moved or made any effort to make eye contact with the crazy man holding the gun, so I respected and appreciated the two seat man standing up to the punk. Someone needed to. They continue back and forth. "Yo, blood. You need to find God." "Blood, you're wack." "Blood get saved." "Hallelujah." On and on. A few stops later the "gangsta" gets off, and im not going to lie, I was relieved.
The car thinned out eventually and a seat opened up in the front, coincidently next to the newspaper reading two seat hogging preacher. He starts talking to me. I look ahead. Smile, acknowledge im listening but am not engaging. See following conversation.
him: "You see those people. The ones holding the signs saying, God hates these people, God hates those people. You see those signs. Those people are crazy."
me: (silent, and starring ahead with a slight smile implying, crap, what have i gotten myself into)
him: "Those people aren't true Christians. Those people are crazy. Those people don't love, and that is the most important thing about being a Christian, is to love."
me: (silent, and starring ahead with a slight smile implying, crap, what have i gotten myself into)
him: "God doesn't hate us. God doesn't hate anyone, he hates sin. Jesus said, Jesus said the only way into the kingdom of heaven is to be saved. The flesh is flesh, the soul is the soul."
me: (silent, and starring ahead with a slight smile implying, crap, what have i gotten myself into)
him: "You know why you sat here don't you. You wanted to hear the message. Your soul wants to listen. I bet you've never read the Bible. I bet you've never heard this message before. I bet you own a Bible, but you've never read it. "
me: "Ive read the Bible."
him: "What parts."
me: "Doesn't matter."
him: "You know about marriage. Adam and Eve were the first married. Politics today, they are taking God out of everything, and that is wrong. I know you, I know your type. I know you."
me: "You know nothing about me."
him: "Sure I do. Hallelujah. Get saved. Have Jesus in your heart."
The surfers never were in the ocean. Because of the oil spill the beaches are all closed. Oops.
my house
I moved recently into a place that I absolutely love. I love my housemates. I love the location. I love my room. I love the roof access. I love the 100 million stairs up to the main floor. I love the 275 pieces of random sports equipment in the hallway. Skateboards, surfboards, bikes, footballs, baseball mitts, etc.
Im kind of a busy person, and so finding time to clean my room, let alone my house is a rare occasion. And by busy I mean finding the time to moan and groan on blogger. The other day I actually put away the time too and was in the mood to clean. I wanted to wipe down the cupboards, consolidate the enormous (and by city standards im not joking) kitchen cupboards we have, and basically make this apartment more than a space I sleep in. I want it to be my home. I know my housemates agree with me on this, Im just pretty sure I stroke a nerve when they came home and all their food was spread across the floor, and divided into different grocery bags. I honestly think that if they would have come home 5 hours later, the house had been clean and organized, they wouldn't have even known the stuff that was thrown away. And yes I could be wrong, but this is my blog (well half blog), and Im allowed to voice me opinion. Ok, there.
We have a house meeting tonight. If my post tomorrow is about how I need a new place to live, take pity.
Im kind of a busy person, and so finding time to clean my room, let alone my house is a rare occasion. And by busy I mean finding the time to moan and groan on blogger. The other day I actually put away the time too and was in the mood to clean. I wanted to wipe down the cupboards, consolidate the enormous (and by city standards im not joking) kitchen cupboards we have, and basically make this apartment more than a space I sleep in. I want it to be my home. I know my housemates agree with me on this, Im just pretty sure I stroke a nerve when they came home and all their food was spread across the floor, and divided into different grocery bags. I honestly think that if they would have come home 5 hours later, the house had been clean and organized, they wouldn't have even known the stuff that was thrown away. And yes I could be wrong, but this is my blog (well half blog), and Im allowed to voice me opinion. Ok, there.
We have a house meeting tonight. If my post tomorrow is about how I need a new place to live, take pity.
Half Nelson and Eastern Promises
I love trailers. I love films. I love trailers that make me want to see films. When I see trailers that are better than the films, thats annoying. Per example, Eastern Promises.
Premise: As the title suggests, it was promising. It had the cast, it had an unusual and intriguing story (unlike so much of Hollywood), and besides the fact that Naomi Watts refuses to do any film that does not involve her crying, I do like her. On that note, besides the fact that I like her, she was completely wrong for the role. Its like she was going through the motions like she had a dozen times. With little heart and connection to any of the other characters. Even the, only half evil, hotty Viggo Morteneson...HELLO?! Insert naked bath house fight scene here, and its worth the $8.
The story included violence, sex, betrayal, internal and external struggles, mystery, and the obvious foreign accent and country appeal. All this with no actual climax. No actual build up shoot out chase scene. And maybe that was the point. And without this being a complete non run-on but feels like run-on sentence and using completely horrible punctuation and sentence structure I would like to point out that there are many films with no shoot out chase scene, no real climax, that leave me wanting more, in a "im satisfied" type of way. And I appreciate those films too. BUT, Eastern Promises did not deliver. It was trying to tell too much, but ended up telling almost nothing.
On another note, the best TGIF show your mother wouldn't let you watch, Are You Afraid Of the Dark, started one of the most talented and hottest male actors to be mentioned in this current posts career. What a lame sentence. Mr. Ryan Gosling. ahhhh.
Ryan Gosling recently starred in the indy sleeper Half Nelson. This film was powerful, strong, visually stunning, and included some of the best acting of the year. The trailer to this film made it seem like a current Dangerous Minds, which it totally was not. It wasn't the usual good guy teacher enters disadvantaged community and school to save the day. Just rent it. By the way shes fricken amazing.
and no, im not adding the trailer to Eastern Promises.
Premise: As the title suggests, it was promising. It had the cast, it had an unusual and intriguing story (unlike so much of Hollywood), and besides the fact that Naomi Watts refuses to do any film that does not involve her crying, I do like her. On that note, besides the fact that I like her, she was completely wrong for the role. Its like she was going through the motions like she had a dozen times. With little heart and connection to any of the other characters. Even the, only half evil, hotty Viggo Morteneson...HELLO?! Insert naked bath house fight scene here, and its worth the $8.
The story included violence, sex, betrayal, internal and external struggles, mystery, and the obvious foreign accent and country appeal. All this with no actual climax. No actual build up shoot out chase scene. And maybe that was the point. And without this being a complete non run-on but feels like run-on sentence and using completely horrible punctuation and sentence structure I would like to point out that there are many films with no shoot out chase scene, no real climax, that leave me wanting more, in a "im satisfied" type of way. And I appreciate those films too. BUT, Eastern Promises did not deliver. It was trying to tell too much, but ended up telling almost nothing.
On another note, the best TGIF show your mother wouldn't let you watch, Are You Afraid Of the Dark, started one of the most talented and hottest male actors to be mentioned in this current posts career. What a lame sentence. Mr. Ryan Gosling. ahhhh.
Ryan Gosling recently starred in the indy sleeper Half Nelson. This film was powerful, strong, visually stunning, and included some of the best acting of the year. The trailer to this film made it seem like a current Dangerous Minds, which it totally was not. It wasn't the usual good guy teacher enters disadvantaged community and school to save the day. Just rent it. By the way shes fricken amazing.
and no, im not adding the trailer to Eastern Promises.
Hawthorne Street
I think Im going to be grey by the time I turn 25. Watching a friend get her hair cut this past weekend I spotted a grey hair. And yes of course I told her. She is 25 1/2. Yes that half is important. Think of all the crap you've done in the past 6 months, compared to the next 6 mo.!
This grey thing isn't bad because it's grey. It can absolutely look gorgeous, and sometimes sexy on certain people. Its bad because its circumstantial upon the amount of unwarranted stress in this way too easy life of mine. I mean, why do i have reason to freak out? Im not living on the streets addicted to heroin. I don't know why that popped into my head.
This hair cut happened in Portland, Oregon. Home of all things green, no sales tax, and the freshest air Ive breathed in awhile (accept in or around public places, including bars, let me just say, aughhhhh!!!!!). The fact that ive visited Portland twice in 2 months kinda bums me out. I much would have rather spent that $230 ticket on a flight to Colorado (a place Ive never been) to go skiing, drink cocoa with Baileys, and soak in a hot tub surrounded by snow. Instead, I was sharing a twin bed in a hostel, eating way too much bar food, and didn't shower for three days.
Hostels are interesting places, where completely different rules apply. I woke up at around 3am to go pee and there were people sleeping everywhere. On the stairs, on the floor, on a small 70's style upholstered chair. There where tents in the backyard and some dude making pancakes. The sign read all you can eat for a $1. The hostel reminds me exactly of what it was like waking up groggy the next morning to the aftermath of an enormous house party.
Portland was a great time and I did enjoy my vacation away from the city. I hope it rejuvenated me enough for the upcoming Halloween festivities. Im going as a Sailor in the Navy, and am genuinely looking forward to wearing my ugly golden velvet pants.
This grey thing isn't bad because it's grey. It can absolutely look gorgeous, and sometimes sexy on certain people. Its bad because its circumstantial upon the amount of unwarranted stress in this way too easy life of mine. I mean, why do i have reason to freak out? Im not living on the streets addicted to heroin. I don't know why that popped into my head.
This hair cut happened in Portland, Oregon. Home of all things green, no sales tax, and the freshest air Ive breathed in awhile (accept in or around public places, including bars, let me just say, aughhhhh!!!!!). The fact that ive visited Portland twice in 2 months kinda bums me out. I much would have rather spent that $230 ticket on a flight to Colorado (a place Ive never been) to go skiing, drink cocoa with Baileys, and soak in a hot tub surrounded by snow. Instead, I was sharing a twin bed in a hostel, eating way too much bar food, and didn't shower for three days.
Hostels are interesting places, where completely different rules apply. I woke up at around 3am to go pee and there were people sleeping everywhere. On the stairs, on the floor, on a small 70's style upholstered chair. There where tents in the backyard and some dude making pancakes. The sign read all you can eat for a $1. The hostel reminds me exactly of what it was like waking up groggy the next morning to the aftermath of an enormous house party.
Portland was a great time and I did enjoy my vacation away from the city. I hope it rejuvenated me enough for the upcoming Halloween festivities. Im going as a Sailor in the Navy, and am genuinely looking forward to wearing my ugly golden velvet pants.
titleless
This city is a close, tight knit, supportive, creative, intelligent, progressive, sometimes dirty, sometimes clean, loud, busy, and very very small city. It is full of characters. From the CEO in the elevator, to the UPS lesbian carrying boxes across the street. The characters make up this city. They are also, sometimes the only things you can count on. The one stability in all this craziness.
From the teeny tiny homeless woman, who I can guarentee is always at the top of the 24th BART station. To my drunken neighbors on their stoop. Its that fact that I walk down 7 blocks and can run into 4 people I know. Sure, its the small, but packed neighborhoods that we live in, where we spend our time, that of course we are going to run into someone we know. But it even goes beyond that.
I have had the same courier come to my office, more than a few times. I have stood next to the same woman in line at the lunch place (with the really amazingly delicous veggie sandwhiches) on multiple occasions. I have seen the same security officer, looking bored as ever (probably wishing he could be spending his time watching the playoff games), guarding the bank on a daily basis.
It is not that fact that I will run into someone I know. It is the fact that it is entirely probable. Its not that fact that I know the security officer, or the UPS woman, or the guy at my deli. Its the fact that I know they are there, and I can rely on their consistencies. Their actions, movements, personality. These are the day to day interactions that become habit. I know to place my food on the weight rather than the counter to save the check out person time. I know which guy at Walgreens is an ass and which one is the nice one. I know what time of the day to go to FedEx, and which FedEx to go to, based on who's working, and who's actually going to help me.
As much as my life can get routine. As much as I can feel uninspired because of lack of time to fulfill my creative or personal needs (whatever the crap that means). As much as life can seem to much like a record, it's the comfortability of the consistencies of the day to day that continually makes me step back, and smile, and appreciate LIFE, in its everyday. Because really in the end, that is all we are really doing. Its interaction, and relationships, and building upon who you want to be, for yourself and to others, that makes you the consistency in someone else world. That makes you the character. That makes them step back, and appreciate Life.
And no matter what. No matter how much I feel down, or throwing a pity party for my god damn self. There is one thing this city and this life is not. And that, is boring.
From the teeny tiny homeless woman, who I can guarentee is always at the top of the 24th BART station. To my drunken neighbors on their stoop. Its that fact that I walk down 7 blocks and can run into 4 people I know. Sure, its the small, but packed neighborhoods that we live in, where we spend our time, that of course we are going to run into someone we know. But it even goes beyond that.
I have had the same courier come to my office, more than a few times. I have stood next to the same woman in line at the lunch place (with the really amazingly delicous veggie sandwhiches) on multiple occasions. I have seen the same security officer, looking bored as ever (probably wishing he could be spending his time watching the playoff games), guarding the bank on a daily basis.
It is not that fact that I will run into someone I know. It is the fact that it is entirely probable. Its not that fact that I know the security officer, or the UPS woman, or the guy at my deli. Its the fact that I know they are there, and I can rely on their consistencies. Their actions, movements, personality. These are the day to day interactions that become habit. I know to place my food on the weight rather than the counter to save the check out person time. I know which guy at Walgreens is an ass and which one is the nice one. I know what time of the day to go to FedEx, and which FedEx to go to, based on who's working, and who's actually going to help me.
As much as my life can get routine. As much as I can feel uninspired because of lack of time to fulfill my creative or personal needs (whatever the crap that means). As much as life can seem to much like a record, it's the comfortability of the consistencies of the day to day that continually makes me step back, and smile, and appreciate LIFE, in its everyday. Because really in the end, that is all we are really doing. Its interaction, and relationships, and building upon who you want to be, for yourself and to others, that makes you the consistency in someone else world. That makes you the character. That makes them step back, and appreciate Life.
And no matter what. No matter how much I feel down, or throwing a pity party for my god damn self. There is one thing this city and this life is not. And that, is boring.
Showers
Has this thing turned into me just bitching. Jeez, I hope not. And on that note, let me continue with another pet peeve of mine... hair in the shower.
Why?
Why?
Why?!!!!!
How difficult to put that shit in the drain. The garbage. Anyplace except the tile walls. This is especially frustrating in a public place, such as this gym showers. Such as this morning.
Why?
Why?
Why?!!!!!
How difficult to put that shit in the drain. The garbage. Anyplace except the tile walls. This is especially frustrating in a public place, such as this gym showers. Such as this morning.
Television
I ran across this post on The Stranger's website. For those of you unaware of one of the best news sources of all time (ok maybe the greater northwest), The Stranger hails from Seattle.
This article is about "retarded" women on tv. Or rather, how the television programs portray women, to be, well, retarded. And by retarded the author is referring to reinforcing the stereotypes of women, and that "women are only interested in three things: believing whole-heartedly in psychics, boning cowboys, and getting married (preferably to a cowboy)".
With his list of show references, I can somewhat agree with him (although completely as a guilty pleasure, am extremely looking forward to Samantha Who? Hello Christina!).
Instead of "retarded" women, I would like to comment on the stereotypical marriages portrayed on tv. Kink of Queens for instance, although surprisingly funny, is an up and down conversation between beautiful wife, and the overweight, unmotivated husband. Ultimately the husband is a great guy, with a big heart, a want to succeed. He lives to make his family proud, but somehow can't do it without the guidance of his oh so wise wife. I can't think of the other shows which portray these same dynamics, but there are about 5 of them on re-runs daily. Which I happen to catch when im home, gorging on booze and television, rather than working out.
Since when did families consist of tight, fit, athletic, beautiful women, and homely men. Who decided its ok for husband to let themselves go? Im not talking about anyone in particular, but i find it a common trend in marriages around the country.
There is my 2cents, and I don't even know why im talking about this.
This article is about "retarded" women on tv. Or rather, how the television programs portray women, to be, well, retarded. And by retarded the author is referring to reinforcing the stereotypes of women, and that "women are only interested in three things: believing whole-heartedly in psychics, boning cowboys, and getting married (preferably to a cowboy)".
With his list of show references, I can somewhat agree with him (although completely as a guilty pleasure, am extremely looking forward to Samantha Who? Hello Christina!).
Instead of "retarded" women, I would like to comment on the stereotypical marriages portrayed on tv. Kink of Queens for instance, although surprisingly funny, is an up and down conversation between beautiful wife, and the overweight, unmotivated husband. Ultimately the husband is a great guy, with a big heart, a want to succeed. He lives to make his family proud, but somehow can't do it without the guidance of his oh so wise wife. I can't think of the other shows which portray these same dynamics, but there are about 5 of them on re-runs daily. Which I happen to catch when im home, gorging on booze and television, rather than working out.
Since when did families consist of tight, fit, athletic, beautiful women, and homely men. Who decided its ok for husband to let themselves go? Im not talking about anyone in particular, but i find it a common trend in marriages around the country.
There is my 2cents, and I don't even know why im talking about this.
Pee II
Second solution: nanotechnology. Combined with the toilet seat in order to detect what some refer to as "droppings" this technology would then be linked to the stall door and a secure locking mechanism. This would automatically prohibit exit from the stall if some idiot decides he lacks the muscles to contain his piss until he is only halfway done unzipping his pants. No clean-up or thoughtful aiming...no exit. I wouldn't be opposed to having to ask the janitor or another restroom occupant to unlock the door from the outside. Embarrassment is the quickest teacher.
Pee III
Second Opinion: It is not only women who are vexed by the shamelessness of men (neigh, boys) these days, so I have a few thoughts on the matter. One is a sociological abstract behind the roots of this issue; The modern man is trapped within his own world. He works in a small office, eats from a small paper bag from a drive-up window because he naturally lacks the culinary skill to deep-fry something at home, and can't act himself because these days there is too much pressure to not exhibit the natural characteristics of manhood. It is no longer proper to objectify women, he must hold it in. He can no longer piss in the street, the woods were all cut down due to increased paper use because women demanded entrance into the workplace. The modern man is forced to betray his carnal instincts everywhere he turns and thus when faced with time alone in the stall, his subconscious mind explodes in contempt for this overtly feministicationalcentric world in which he is trapped. The result of which spurts, sputters, and flows forward in unrestricted and uncaring warmth anywhere but where his condemned mind is aiming. Sometimes I have hit the ceiling.
Pee III
Recently I said enough is enough, and stood up against this ridiculous seat shooting when I witnessed it firsthand. He was shameless, door open and everything. I didn't stare but didn't have to in order to glimpse that he was clearly looking straight ahead and slightly up and was standing about a foot to the right of the the center of the bowl. Enough is enough. "what the shit are you thinking man! Even if you clean that up people will still have to sit on it!", deep breath and then I launched into a terrifying slew of vocabulary I learned from prison. Clearly terrified, because I often sound like a gigantic uneducated and crazed bully (Mike Tyson esk), he mumbled something about how sorry he was, how this and that, and how he couldn't help it...blah blah....that he was blind. At which point I noticed that during this episode he was trying to find his guiding stick that had fallen into the corner. I was apologizing as he was shaking and saying he was so embarrassed while we walked out the door of the building, at which point he said, "enough is enough" and jumped in front of a bus and splattered.
I felt like shit that evening, and you should to! Don't kill blind people by being mad about wet toilet seats. They are the ones that pee on the seats I learned. I mean how could I have thought it was just due to disrespect and laziness from my fellow man. It is only blind people, and we need to cut them some slack. (or we could always build them their own bathrooms)(it wouldn't cost much electricity)
Pee III
Second Opinion: It is not only women who are vexed by the shamelessness of men (neigh, boys) these days, so I have a few thoughts on the matter. One is a sociological abstract behind the roots of this issue; The modern man is trapped within his own world. He works in a small office, eats from a small paper bag from a drive-up window because he naturally lacks the culinary skill to deep-fry something at home, and can't act himself because these days there is too much pressure to not exhibit the natural characteristics of manhood. It is no longer proper to objectify women, he must hold it in. He can no longer piss in the street, the woods were all cut down due to increased paper use because women demanded entrance into the workplace. The modern man is forced to betray his carnal instincts everywhere he turns and thus when faced with time alone in the stall, his subconscious mind explodes in contempt for this overtly feministicationalcentric world in which he is trapped. The result of which spurts, sputters, and flows forward in unrestricted and uncaring warmth anywhere but where his condemned mind is aiming. Sometimes I have hit the ceiling.
Pee III
Recently I said enough is enough, and stood up against this ridiculous seat shooting when I witnessed it firsthand. He was shameless, door open and everything. I didn't stare but didn't have to in order to glimpse that he was clearly looking straight ahead and slightly up and was standing about a foot to the right of the the center of the bowl. Enough is enough. "what the shit are you thinking man! Even if you clean that up people will still have to sit on it!", deep breath and then I launched into a terrifying slew of vocabulary I learned from prison. Clearly terrified, because I often sound like a gigantic uneducated and crazed bully (Mike Tyson esk), he mumbled something about how sorry he was, how this and that, and how he couldn't help it...blah blah....that he was blind. At which point I noticed that during this episode he was trying to find his guiding stick that had fallen into the corner. I was apologizing as he was shaking and saying he was so embarrassed while we walked out the door of the building, at which point he said, "enough is enough" and jumped in front of a bus and splattered.
I felt like shit that evening, and you should to! Don't kill blind people by being mad about wet toilet seats. They are the ones that pee on the seats I learned. I mean how could I have thought it was just due to disrespect and laziness from my fellow man. It is only blind people, and we need to cut them some slack. (or we could always build them their own bathrooms)(it wouldn't cost much electricity)
Pee
Ready for something random, and really quite disgusting?
You go
to use the toilet. And for us women, we sit on the damn thing. Yes, the
seat which was intended to bear the brunt of our asses. The place of
peace and quiet (up for debate), of solitude, of complete relief whenyouv'e been holding that urine for 2 1/2 hours in the car and all you want to do is get it out.
You
go to sit down, and what happens. There's piss, all over fucking thing.
Now, I just don't get it. How difficult is it to make it into the bowl.
We say men have bad aim. Oh no. We can't hit the dang thing when its 3
inches from the faucet (yougettin me).
Us, women, have
learned from these years and years of public restroom participation,
that we never sit. EVER! You don't know what gross liquid could
possibly touch those buttcheeks of yours. You always, always hover. If its a long one, you may get a bit tired, but god forbid you get sloppy and lazy for a mear second. You're screwed.
Even when I am hovering, I would like to be hovering over a clean seat. Even if im
not going to touch the thing, I would at least like to think that no
germ std covered pee aura can come up and bite me in the butt. If not
for the sake of my own sanity, I like to hover over a clean toilet seat
for one reason, and one reason only. THE PEOPLE BEHIND ME IN LINE.
Yeah, them. Those strangers I will never probably see again. The people waiting at the bar, in the restaurant, on the hill at Dolores
park. The people who will think, once I have left the restroom and am
on my merry way, that I LEFT THE PISS. That I left the pee. Like a
welcome parade to the toilet.
"Why hello there. We've been waiting for you. Go ahead, hover, just try not to let your thighs touch me. I dare ya."
They'll
accuse and judge me, in their minds. Even if I never see them again I
will always be known as the girl who left the drops. Who Didn't wipe. Agh! It grosses me out just thinking about it.
And so, where does this leave me? Where does this leave you? Is it my responsibility to clean up someone else's..."droppings"? if I leave it, will you leave it?
To provide some possible solutions to this question I have come up with a solution. Time sensitive
pee. Yeah. When you pee, its for the most part yellow, or almost clear,
if you've been a good girl and have been keeping hydrated. What if the
longer pee stayed around (unflushed for instance, where it gets swallowed into the abyss, and we don't have to imagine
where it ends up) it would change colors. It could start yellow, turn
to green, blue, then purple. I wouldn't have to wipe. I wouldn'tahve to worry about the person behind me. Its blue, she knows thats not my mess. My inconsiderate self. Ahh! Genius.
Lesson of the day: People, please wipe. Please keep that porcelain thrown clear of anything thats not meant to touch it. Its just common courtesy.
You go
to use the toilet. And for us women, we sit on the damn thing. Yes, the
seat which was intended to bear the brunt of our asses. The place of
peace and quiet (up for debate), of solitude, of complete relief whenyouv'e been holding that urine for 2 1/2 hours in the car and all you want to do is get it out.
You
go to sit down, and what happens. There's piss, all over fucking thing.
Now, I just don't get it. How difficult is it to make it into the bowl.
We say men have bad aim. Oh no. We can't hit the dang thing when its 3
inches from the faucet (yougettin me).
Us, women, have
learned from these years and years of public restroom participation,
that we never sit. EVER! You don't know what gross liquid could
possibly touch those buttcheeks of yours. You always, always hover. If its a long one, you may get a bit tired, but god forbid you get sloppy and lazy for a mear second. You're screwed.
Even when I am hovering, I would like to be hovering over a clean seat. Even if im
not going to touch the thing, I would at least like to think that no
germ std covered pee aura can come up and bite me in the butt. If not
for the sake of my own sanity, I like to hover over a clean toilet seat
for one reason, and one reason only. THE PEOPLE BEHIND ME IN LINE.
Yeah, them. Those strangers I will never probably see again. The people waiting at the bar, in the restaurant, on the hill at Dolores
park. The people who will think, once I have left the restroom and am
on my merry way, that I LEFT THE PISS. That I left the pee. Like a
welcome parade to the toilet.
"Why hello there. We've been waiting for you. Go ahead, hover, just try not to let your thighs touch me. I dare ya."
They'll
accuse and judge me, in their minds. Even if I never see them again I
will always be known as the girl who left the drops. Who Didn't wipe. Agh! It grosses me out just thinking about it.
And so, where does this leave me? Where does this leave you? Is it my responsibility to clean up someone else's..."droppings"? if I leave it, will you leave it?
To provide some possible solutions to this question I have come up with a solution. Time sensitive
pee. Yeah. When you pee, its for the most part yellow, or almost clear,
if you've been a good girl and have been keeping hydrated. What if the
longer pee stayed around (unflushed for instance, where it gets swallowed into the abyss, and we don't have to imagine
where it ends up) it would change colors. It could start yellow, turn
to green, blue, then purple. I wouldn't have to wipe. I wouldn'tahve to worry about the person behind me. Its blue, she knows thats not my mess. My inconsiderate self. Ahh! Genius.
Lesson of the day: People, please wipe. Please keep that porcelain thrown clear of anything thats not meant to touch it. Its just common courtesy.
beauty etc...
Ran across a blog the other day. Notes From a Raging Hapa Dyke (hope she doesn't mind that im linking to her blog). One post, titled Full Frontal Fat Phobia, sparked my attention. I don't feel me commenting to her post is of much importance. So instead I will leave you with the most current Dove ad - Onslaught. Which could say more than I ever could.
On another note, Raging Hapa Dyke's post titled Cunt Quilt Rock will definitely get some comments from me. But thats for another day.
On another note, Raging Hapa Dyke's post titled Cunt Quilt Rock will definitely get some comments from me. But thats for another day.
make it stop
There have been quite a few spurts of violence in the Bay Area in the recent weeks (stabbings and shootings). Its odd, because I consider this city, and its surrounding areas to be pretty calm; considering. People pretty much don't bother you if you don't bother them. That is, of course, one is not sporting gang colors.
Walking home the other night. Sweaty from football, or soccer (it all gets mixed together). My shortish hair was kept back by a navy blue bandanna. I have all colors. Well more appropriately Max has all colors. I used to. I think Ive been on too many roadtrips lately, packed and un-packed, and now they have all disappeared.
Anyways, walking home a man yelled at me, "You better take that off, or you are going to get shot". Hmm. Kinda scary.
Walking home the other night. Sweaty from football, or soccer (it all gets mixed together). My shortish hair was kept back by a navy blue bandanna. I have all colors. Well more appropriately Max has all colors. I used to. I think Ive been on too many roadtrips lately, packed and un-packed, and now they have all disappeared.
Anyways, walking home a man yelled at me, "You better take that off, or you are going to get shot". Hmm. Kinda scary.
- - -
I don't want you (maybe there is no you, just Jammin, I, and our imaginations) to think that this blog is going to turn into a reposting of videos, or, that I spend all day perusing YouTube. Although I don't think that would be such a bad thing.
I actually got this from a link sent from the newsletters I receive from HRC (human rights campaign). It's an interesting trailer, and an interesting documentary. I think films like this are important, and can make a difference in peoples lives. This is just hard to remember when I get cushioned in a way, or guarded. Living here in San Fran, in a bubble of some sorts. Where I feel like for the most part, everyone is accepting of everyone else. Naive. Yeah I know.
It is similar to the type of bubble I lived in back home. Only that was a white Christian middle class town. Where there were different people, and different ways of life, just no one talked about or confronted it, and therefore, could never accept, or teach acceptance about it. Even though they all thought they did. Maybe I'm seeing this completely wrong though. Maybe it was just me, and the circle I ran in. That I didn't need to get to know those people, because I didn't think they affected, or influenced me. And on that note, who even is "those" people that I speak of. BLAH!!! Im not explaining my thoughts very clearly. hmm - don't judge me.
I just hope this film doesn't turn religion into the bad guy. Or even turn certain people into bad guys. The last thing we need is for a film to give more people reasons to pit against one another.
For The Bible Tells Me So
I actually got this from a link sent from the newsletters I receive from HRC (human rights campaign). It's an interesting trailer, and an interesting documentary. I think films like this are important, and can make a difference in peoples lives. This is just hard to remember when I get cushioned in a way, or guarded. Living here in San Fran, in a bubble of some sorts. Where I feel like for the most part, everyone is accepting of everyone else. Naive. Yeah I know.
It is similar to the type of bubble I lived in back home. Only that was a white Christian middle class town. Where there were different people, and different ways of life, just no one talked about or confronted it, and therefore, could never accept, or teach acceptance about it. Even though they all thought they did. Maybe I'm seeing this completely wrong though. Maybe it was just me, and the circle I ran in. That I didn't need to get to know those people, because I didn't think they affected, or influenced me. And on that note, who even is "those" people that I speak of. BLAH!!! Im not explaining my thoughts very clearly. hmm - don't judge me.
I just hope this film doesn't turn religion into the bad guy. Or even turn certain people into bad guys. The last thing we need is for a film to give more people reasons to pit against one another.
For The Bible Tells Me So
The Fucking Champs
Mitch so graciously invited me to a show last night. Deep in the
Tenderloin, The Fucking Champs rocked my drunk away. Yes, I was drunk
(or heavily buzzed, depending on the way you look at it) by about 3pmsunday afternoon. Thats what Sunday Football watching will get ya.
They
are a different type of music I generally purchase tickets to go see.
No vocals. Skinny shirtless long haired musicians. Wait, that was the
opening band.Eeh, its hard to really tell them apart because they essentially sound the same.
Its interesting going to a show. You could hear the cd
fifty billion times and think its fucking fantastic. Then you see their
show and realize, although the songs may be great and catchy, they all
sound the damn same. They break at the same time. Build the same way.
Tempo never changes. Andthats when I sort of reach a point of disappointment. I feel like I got cheated, or even tricked in a way. That the whole time I sang along with, and raved about the cd, it was all the same one song, with different lyrics.
On another thought. When did mostasches become the new long haired shag? They are everywhere. Gross.
Tenderloin, The Fucking Champs rocked my drunk away. Yes, I was drunk
(or heavily buzzed, depending on the way you look at it) by about 3pmsunday afternoon. Thats what Sunday Football watching will get ya.
They
are a different type of music I generally purchase tickets to go see.
No vocals. Skinny shirtless long haired musicians. Wait, that was the
opening band.Eeh, its hard to really tell them apart because they essentially sound the same.
Its interesting going to a show. You could hear the cd
fifty billion times and think its fucking fantastic. Then you see their
show and realize, although the songs may be great and catchy, they all
sound the damn same. They break at the same time. Build the same way.
Tempo never changes. Andthats when I sort of reach a point of disappointment. I feel like I got cheated, or even tricked in a way. That the whole time I sang along with, and raved about the cd, it was all the same one song, with different lyrics.
On another thought. When did mostasches become the new long haired shag? They are everywhere. Gross.
what weeknights are all about
At work this morning I asked my intern how his weekend was. Yes, his weekend. Today is Friday. Where the hell has my mind gone? Yesterday could have contributed to it. After a long day of shooting (film). 6am-7pm. I visited my buddies place. Where they were already drunk and the remnant's of Thai food was sprawled about. After a quick attempt at Zoolander, soft packs came out, and a "!*^#@" war ensued. Max might still have bruises. Or be deaf.
This whole evening was intermixed with viewing old photos of eachother. Just like last night, I know in 10 years im going to look at pictures of myself and wonder what the hell I was thinking. Embarrassment. Blah. I may also be looking back to those pictures wondering where everyone has gone, and missing when this is what weeknights were made of.
ps- justin was/is adorable
This whole evening was intermixed with viewing old photos of eachother. Just like last night, I know in 10 years im going to look at pictures of myself and wonder what the hell I was thinking. Embarrassment. Blah. I may also be looking back to those pictures wondering where everyone has gone, and missing when this is what weeknights were made of.
ps- justin was/is adorable
Juno
Although the kid from Arrested Development is hilarious, he is getting a bit on my nerves. Much like John Heder from Napolean Dynamite, every character he plays is very similar. Not that it's a bad thing, or that its even his fault, but I would like to see them branch out a bit. And this is not to say that I didn't totally laugh out loud at Blades Of Glory, or his comedic counterpart, Will Ferrell.
This film looks fantastic, in a very indy, teen coming to age, Junebug sort of way. Ellen Page's performance looks awesome (Don't even get me started on the other supporting cast in this film). Anyways, im excited to see it.
Enjoy:
This film looks fantastic, in a very indy, teen coming to age, Junebug sort of way. Ellen Page's performance looks awesome (Don't even get me started on the other supporting cast in this film). Anyways, im excited to see it.
Enjoy:
I found my new calling
It looks like all those Chinese symbols and tribal designs are about to make me millions. Well, not really, unless I become a dermatologist, trained in the use of lasers. CHECK IT.
Tattoo removal is supposedly booming, and I am all about jumping on that bandwagon. I don't have a tattoo, and thats not to say I wouldn't ever get one, I have just never really been inspired to mark my body with something I really don't care too much about. Besides, I have enough bruises and war wounds as it is. This whole tattoo removal thing might just change my mind though.
There are pros and cons. One pays hundreds of dollars to get a beautiful memorable mark on their body. One pays thousands of dollars to get it off. - One used to be in love with Rob. One can now stop focus on dating people with the names Robert, Bob, Bobby, Richard, or Dick. - etc...
My friend Beau and I were having a similar discussion about this recently (at 3am in the middle of the god damn desert, aka. satans asshole) and him and I both would like to get them (tattoo's) if the ink disappeared after a year or two. We do understand this is somewhat of a cop out, and kind of a pussy move. But coming from two people who can barely commit to what socks to wear in the morning, branding our bodies, for life, just can't be justified. But fcuk, now do we really have a choice?
If you do the math. A medium sized tattoo (lets say 1inch X 1inch), on my left shoulder (b/c the experts say the closer to the heart the easier for the tat to come off), gotten at 23, and taken off at 43. The cost of experiencing a tattoo, for a good 20 years of my life would be about $3/ day. $3/day is nothing really when you think about the latte that costs $5/day. But is it worth the pain. The initial tattooing doesn't seem that bad. But the removal. Even if it isn't that painful, is it worth the time? And on that note, is it worth the time for me to blog about it? Probably not.
And on that note, I guess my point, is that it's all fcuking relative.
Tattoo removal is supposedly booming, and I am all about jumping on that bandwagon. I don't have a tattoo, and thats not to say I wouldn't ever get one, I have just never really been inspired to mark my body with something I really don't care too much about. Besides, I have enough bruises and war wounds as it is. This whole tattoo removal thing might just change my mind though.
There are pros and cons. One pays hundreds of dollars to get a beautiful memorable mark on their body. One pays thousands of dollars to get it off. - One used to be in love with Rob. One can now stop focus on dating people with the names Robert, Bob, Bobby, Richard, or Dick. - etc...
My friend Beau and I were having a similar discussion about this recently (at 3am in the middle of the god damn desert, aka. satans asshole) and him and I both would like to get them (tattoo's) if the ink disappeared after a year or two. We do understand this is somewhat of a cop out, and kind of a pussy move. But coming from two people who can barely commit to what socks to wear in the morning, branding our bodies, for life, just can't be justified. But fcuk, now do we really have a choice?
If you do the math. A medium sized tattoo (lets say 1inch X 1inch), on my left shoulder (b/c the experts say the closer to the heart the easier for the tat to come off), gotten at 23, and taken off at 43. The cost of experiencing a tattoo, for a good 20 years of my life would be about $3/ day. $3/day is nothing really when you think about the latte that costs $5/day. But is it worth the pain. The initial tattooing doesn't seem that bad. But the removal. Even if it isn't that painful, is it worth the time? And on that note, is it worth the time for me to blog about it? Probably not.
And on that note, I guess my point, is that it's all fcuking relative.
just a movie in the park?
Last night I was part of one of those groups. The annoying people who go to the venue / event, and rather than enjoy it they talk...the whole god damn time. Yeah. That was us. And why I ask? That type of behavior is usually reserved for loud mouthed middle school jansport wearing kiddies.
What was it that made us become chattering giggling hyper 20 somethings. Unconcerned with the people around us, or their interest in the strange but refreshing French film. Who's only scenes I caught were of the hip librarian woman attempting suicide. Over and over and over again.
I don't blame the beer. There ws hardly enough to buzz any of us soon to be alcoholics. Despite the fantastic effort on Jen's part to contribute, in all force, to '40's for Tupac'. I don't blame the football practice, despite energizing us with endorphins, and is the most excersize any of us have gotten in the past 22 days. It could be the wonderful weather of the San Francisco night. Stars shining, palm trees waving, and hobo's frolicking about. But no.
It was our friends. It was togetherness. It was loving the company you are with, the conversations that arise, and the attractiveness of new friendships. The comfortability and reliablity of a group of people.
And with all of this. These good feelings, good times, dinners together, omlettes at brunch, movie nights, therapy sessions, drunken heart to hearts, and more coffee time than anyone knows what to do with, there is a constant smacktalking, bullshitting, and sarcasticness. Is it out of love? Is it out of caring about people? Knowing you can be like that because that is how some relationships opperate, AND, we can handle it. OR, is it a defense. A guard for not really being there. For not really caring whatsoever, but for using this time and place as an in-between until you move onto something else. Which you think is better.
I just got a little cynical. With completely no preceded reason. My course of thinking out loud (or rather typing out loud) makes me consider and reconsider human behavior, motivation, and intent. Makes me re-evaluate my past and what I am looking for in my future. Its not out of accusation, but out of curiosity.
For me, im going to appreciate the fun (but obnoxious to many) night we had. It was great. I am so thankful for what I have, and who cares to have me. Who cares to surround themselves with me, because God knows, often times I don't deserve it.
What was it that made us become chattering giggling hyper 20 somethings. Unconcerned with the people around us, or their interest in the strange but refreshing French film. Who's only scenes I caught were of the hip librarian woman attempting suicide. Over and over and over again.
I don't blame the beer. There ws hardly enough to buzz any of us soon to be alcoholics. Despite the fantastic effort on Jen's part to contribute, in all force, to '40's for Tupac'. I don't blame the football practice, despite energizing us with endorphins, and is the most excersize any of us have gotten in the past 22 days. It could be the wonderful weather of the San Francisco night. Stars shining, palm trees waving, and hobo's frolicking about. But no.
It was our friends. It was togetherness. It was loving the company you are with, the conversations that arise, and the attractiveness of new friendships. The comfortability and reliablity of a group of people.
And with all of this. These good feelings, good times, dinners together, omlettes at brunch, movie nights, therapy sessions, drunken heart to hearts, and more coffee time than anyone knows what to do with, there is a constant smacktalking, bullshitting, and sarcasticness. Is it out of love? Is it out of caring about people? Knowing you can be like that because that is how some relationships opperate, AND, we can handle it. OR, is it a defense. A guard for not really being there. For not really caring whatsoever, but for using this time and place as an in-between until you move onto something else. Which you think is better.
I just got a little cynical. With completely no preceded reason. My course of thinking out loud (or rather typing out loud) makes me consider and reconsider human behavior, motivation, and intent. Makes me re-evaluate my past and what I am looking for in my future. Its not out of accusation, but out of curiosity.
For me, im going to appreciate the fun (but obnoxious to many) night we had. It was great. I am so thankful for what I have, and who cares to have me. Who cares to surround themselves with me, because God knows, often times I don't deserve it.
blown tires and blow up dolls
There is this thing called FOB (festival of the babes). Its an enormous all womens soccer tourney. I went a few weekend ago, and oh, how the story begins.
About an hour out of San Francisco (after driving half way around the city for banks, coffee, food, etc) trucking along the straight away, moo cows on one side and tractors and trucks on the other, our tire pops. Wait, no. MY tire pops. Yep. Worn down to the, to the, to the whatever you call it. Basically it looked like complete shit. Like someone had taken a saw and went to town on that rubber. I was quite impressed with myself. I didn't freak out much, just coasted to the median, knowing in my head that I was about to be out a lot of money ($120 per tire to be exact).
Good thing I had 3 "butch" women in the car with me, b/c damn, I knew nothing. And really, Pfenning didn't either. We were content taking pictures and basking in the boiling sun, while Max and Mary got our shit together.
Long story short this very nice gentleman stopped for us, let us use his AAA (My name is now AnnaGene, or NormaGene, or BetsySue), he gave a lift to some of our possy to the nearest town (Winters, CA). If you ever stop there visit the Diner (I think the only one in town), they have one of the best French Dip, and BBQ sandwiches one could ask for. The decor is to die for as well.
An hour later and we were on our way. Rejuvinated to sing 10hours worth of songs. Which mostly consisted of Kelly Clarkson and The Killers. I don't know how my speakers aren't blown.
Now, the blow up doll portion of the Subject Heading must be saved for another day. Or told in a form that my grandchildren can't trace years from now.
About an hour out of San Francisco (after driving half way around the city for banks, coffee, food, etc) trucking along the straight away, moo cows on one side and tractors and trucks on the other, our tire pops. Wait, no. MY tire pops. Yep. Worn down to the, to the, to the whatever you call it. Basically it looked like complete shit. Like someone had taken a saw and went to town on that rubber. I was quite impressed with myself. I didn't freak out much, just coasted to the median, knowing in my head that I was about to be out a lot of money ($120 per tire to be exact).
Good thing I had 3 "butch" women in the car with me, b/c damn, I knew nothing. And really, Pfenning didn't either. We were content taking pictures and basking in the boiling sun, while Max and Mary got our shit together.
Long story short this very nice gentleman stopped for us, let us use his AAA (My name is now AnnaGene, or NormaGene, or BetsySue), he gave a lift to some of our possy to the nearest town (Winters, CA). If you ever stop there visit the Diner (I think the only one in town), they have one of the best French Dip, and BBQ sandwiches one could ask for. The decor is to die for as well.
An hour later and we were on our way. Rejuvinated to sing 10hours worth of songs. Which mostly consisted of Kelly Clarkson and The Killers. I don't know how my speakers aren't blown.
Now, the blow up doll portion of the Subject Heading must be saved for another day. Or told in a form that my grandchildren can't trace years from now.
about a job
I think im going to become a garbageman.
5 reasons why:
I really don't mind getting that dirty (dont tell anyone).
Its physical.
I get to drive soemthing big, loud, and obnoxious.
Im always looking for free crap. This way I won't have to look so hard.
Because I think I might actually be doing something.
Speaking of garbagemen. There seem to be lots of jobs that have a male suffix, which have been changed to be more general. One example being mailman, can now be called postal worker. What about garbageman? Garbageperson? Waste Disposal Engineer? Perhaps.
5 reasons why:
I really don't mind getting that dirty (dont tell anyone).
Its physical.
I get to drive soemthing big, loud, and obnoxious.
Im always looking for free crap. This way I won't have to look so hard.
Because I think I might actually be doing something.
Speaking of garbagemen. There seem to be lots of jobs that have a male suffix, which have been changed to be more general. One example being mailman, can now be called postal worker. What about garbageman? Garbageperson? Waste Disposal Engineer? Perhaps.
Jobs...
My roomy just managed to land a quick job with VERSACE.
Can't believe it....though that looks like my Target suit.
I Bow Down to Craigslist
How else are you able to liquidate a ton of camera gear in 5 hours locally....I wouldn't be surprised if in 2000 years there is a "religion of Craig"
craigslist can suck a big fat one
I only say this b/c its survival of the fitest. I am losing. And it makes me sad. Please. Find me a new place to live.
pin the macho on the man
My friend turns 24 today. We threw her a surprise party this past weekend. The party started with a fantastic batch of guac, which was immediately devoured. The party consisted of vag playing cards, penis ice cubes, and pinning the "macho" on the man. The party ended in a cake fight. No worries that the cake only cost me about $45, and I don't think anyone actually got to enjoy the goody richness. But, whatever.
I woke up at 5am Monday morning in my friends bed, stanking of cake, with apples to apples cards stuffed in my back pocket.
The highlight perhaps may be the handmade cock porn consistently playing the background. Cum juices dripping off the tip. Mmmm. Happy Birthday Pfenning.
ps- Its my mom's birthday today too. 50!!!! wow. I love you mom. Aren't you proud of the daughter you've created!
Hipster ?????
Is it a noun, adjective, belief, feeling, moral dilemma, state of being?
In the urban dictionary Hipster is defined as :
1- "people in thier teens to 20s who generally listen to indie rock, hang out in coffee shops, shop at the thrift store and talk about things like books, music, films and art."
2-"You, for reading ironic, pseudo-intellectual dictionary entries on the word "hipster"."
3-"Listens to bands that you have never heard of. Has hairstyle that can only be described as "complicated." (Most likely achieved by a minimum of one week not washing it.) Probably tattooed. Maybe gay. Definitely cooler than you. Reads Black Book, Nylon, and the Styles section of the New York Times. Drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon. Often. Complains. Always denies being a hipster. Hates the word. Probably living off parents money - and spends a great deal of it to look like they don't have any."
I personally think anyone who can be constituted as a hipster was probably a very talented artist / musician in High School, who probably had a lot to offer, but not in the "ass-hole popularity contest cool" way. And then these people get a bit older, find more people like themselves, start to be attracted to rust on bikes, clothes with holes, and coffee at 3am. These people are now the cool, set the tone crew, and we are not a part of them....but i respect them.
In the urban dictionary Hipster is defined as :
1- "people in thier teens to 20s who generally listen to indie rock, hang out in coffee shops, shop at the thrift store and talk about things like books, music, films and art."
2-"You, for reading ironic, pseudo-intellectual dictionary entries on the word "hipster"."
3-"Listens to bands that you have never heard of. Has hairstyle that can only be described as "complicated." (Most likely achieved by a minimum of one week not washing it.) Probably tattooed. Maybe gay. Definitely cooler than you. Reads Black Book, Nylon, and the Styles section of the New York Times. Drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon. Often. Complains. Always denies being a hipster. Hates the word. Probably living off parents money - and spends a great deal of it to look like they don't have any."
I personally think anyone who can be constituted as a hipster was probably a very talented artist / musician in High School, who probably had a lot to offer, but not in the "ass-hole popularity contest cool" way. And then these people get a bit older, find more people like themselves, start to be attracted to rust on bikes, clothes with holes, and coffee at 3am. These people are now the cool, set the tone crew, and we are not a part of them....but i respect them.
work
So my ass is sore. Yes, my ass. How is my ass sore? Because all I do all damn day is sit in a chair (it is a nice leather chair mind you). Sit in a chair and type on this keyboard, staring at this computer screen, bitching to you fine people. This is ridiculous. I need to do something with my time.
do you think Alaska corrupts people?
I have heard that burley hairy men and unkept surley women have been known to wonder this far away land, building igloos, hunting praire dogs, and feeding off of the puss of mosquitoe bites.
San Fran
Does San Fran "corrupt" people? or do people just go there so they have an excuse?
It is like Las Vegas, except for longer than one night.
It is like Las Vegas, except for longer than one night.
this thing on my face
I took the plundge since moving to SF. I chopped my hair, changed my underwear preference (im not going to divulge how), and got a big piece of metal in my lip. As my wonderful friend Combs states, its not so much in my lip, its more b/w my lip and chin. Its on my left (when you look at me its on the right). Its on my left because i feel more "balanced" with things on my left, but thats getting into a whole different messed up part of myself.
I find this little piercing quite adorbale (hence the reason i put it in my face), but it has caused me a few problems. Mainly when I am doing things quickly with my mouth (does that sound bad). For instance, speaking quickly on the phone, eating too fast without any regard to the post inside my gum, or intimant moments with a certain someone (who am i kidding, change that to plural).
This small metal ball has gotten pulled back into my lip numerous times, where as I pause whatever im doing to push it back through. Attractive huh?! I wonder if this is ever actually going to stop, or will I always have to be cautious. Maybe its a sign my body is shouting at me. Along with that shout Im sure its telling me to get my ass on the tred mill.
I find this little piercing quite adorbale (hence the reason i put it in my face), but it has caused me a few problems. Mainly when I am doing things quickly with my mouth (does that sound bad). For instance, speaking quickly on the phone, eating too fast without any regard to the post inside my gum, or intimant moments with a certain someone (who am i kidding, change that to plural).
This small metal ball has gotten pulled back into my lip numerous times, where as I pause whatever im doing to push it back through. Attractive huh?! I wonder if this is ever actually going to stop, or will I always have to be cautious. Maybe its a sign my body is shouting at me. Along with that shout Im sure its telling me to get my ass on the tred mill.
Mentality
Can you succeed if you are not self absorbed and don't believe you are the only one that can do things as well as you?
Sayings
I know you have heard of these....
Saying 1: There are a lot of fish in the sea...
Saying 2: He/She is (or will be) sleeping with the fish(es)....
Does this mean that although there are "a lot of fish in the sea", you have to be dead to sleep with them??
Saying 1: There are a lot of fish in the sea...
Saying 2: He/She is (or will be) sleeping with the fish(es)....
Does this mean that although there are "a lot of fish in the sea", you have to be dead to sleep with them??
tip snatchers?
In my "get away" "interesting" "all to trouble making" "ill fill you in later" weekend I took a little day trip to Santa Cruz. While in Santa Cruz i visited a cookie / ice cream shop, because god knows after filling your belly up on Mexican theres always room for a little sweet. And so, enjoying samples of mocha chocolate mint oreo fudge ice cream (yes all one flavor) i glanced at the tip jug (yes jug because it was enormous). In the tip jug was change, dollar bills, and WATER. yes, water. What water would be doing in the tip jar, oh excuse me, jug, i do not know, and so I asked. Low and behold I guess people (or snatchers as i am going to call them) were reaching their little claw like evil fingers in the tip jug, and stealing the cash. STEALING the cash. Who in their right minds would steal tip money? Especially from a cute litttle cookie / ice cream shop? Well, what I found almost more disturbing was the fact that to stop these snatchers they thought the best solution was to fill the jug with water. I find this more disturbing because it kind of ruins the whole idea of tipping. Sure, no one should reach in and steal these 17 year old, hormone raging, pimple popping, high school workers' cash flow...but.....filling the jug with money?! You might as well say, hey, we are so completely "selfish" for lack of a better word, that we are going to "protect" our tips. Tips are given when earned, and should not be an expected perk with the job. I remember slaving away at a Chevron Deli when I was 17, getting a dollar a day in tips and cherishing those four quaters. You don't have the tips to begin with, and you shouldn't go to extra, beyond ridiculous lengths to keep them. Appreciate and be greatful for what you have. and also...dont be a snatcher. :) thank you!
the re-meeting of people
In a matter of 24hrs I re-met 2 people who i had previously met. Its kind of embarassing when you re-meet them. When they had remembered the conversation. Remembered me getting all smart ass about their Smith glasses. About how I raved about my Nintendo Wii skills (i suck). About how I can down 3 beers in 1 minute (totally cant). About how I can run a 8 min mile (like when i was 13, maybe). About how we should go dancing, and play pool, and darts with one hand. Man, can't I get all buffed up, chest puffed when a bit of alcohol gets in these veins of mine. Soem would argue, "oh no el capitano, thats you always". And to them I would like to say, i'm sorry if I come off like that, mainly im joking being a smart ass, and although i think i am quite a talented, skilled, athletic, and good looking being...theres no way i could kick anyones ass at anything. That is of course unless I get lucky. So. please dont take me all serious ya'll. Thanks,
Going back to these drunken numbers....what does that mean when you have to re-meet these people. Am I an alcoholic? Or is it their fault that they gave their numbers to a drunken idiot. I mean, really. What does that say about them?!!!
Going back to these drunken numbers....what does that mean when you have to re-meet these people. Am I an alcoholic? Or is it their fault that they gave their numbers to a drunken idiot. I mean, really. What does that say about them?!!!
pseudo friend date
Yes, a pseudo friend date. Whatever thats supposed to mean. I think its a time for a person and another person to get together, enjoy their company alone, but not be committed to it being anything. So im on my pseudo friend date. Well i actually i was on a "hang out with a bunch of friends evening". It was supposed to be a pseudo friend date, but then we all were having a little too much fun playing spoons in a Irish pub with naked men porn cards. Spoons turned into pool. Pool turned into burritos. Burritos turned into a 4 hour get to know you discussion in the car. And its then that i felt like i was back in HS.
What could be one of the most embarrassing things to happen to a girl on a date. Besides farting in the morning in bed, or waking up with no toothbrush (i do not imply that a date means you are going to stay the night...but roll with me on this). So as my pseudo friend date is leaving the car (mind she was wearing very very thin soccer shorts) (granted my car is very dark, and granted the seats are grey leather) a shiny shimmery type thing was smeared across the seat. The moment i saw this, i knew exactly what it was. I mean, it was kind of obvious. Either shes really sweaty in that thigh/ass area, or..... yeah. She played it like "oh, i dont know what it is" (i shouldnt have said anything). Then she called. She called and felt so bad. Was so embarrassed. And it was pretty damn funny to hear her not be able to spit it out.
Sure to the person it happens to its probably the most embarrassing thing ever, but to the other, its just kind of funny. With all this said, I had a pseudo friend date come visit me, and he stayed in my bed when he was here. I have white sheets, and low and behold, the same damn thing happened to me. I was embarrassed a bit, but i guess that fact that he was so cool with it made it not a big deal. My other pseudo date doesnt know that this happened to me, and theres no way im going to tell her.
What could be one of the most embarrassing things to happen to a girl on a date. Besides farting in the morning in bed, or waking up with no toothbrush (i do not imply that a date means you are going to stay the night...but roll with me on this). So as my pseudo friend date is leaving the car (mind she was wearing very very thin soccer shorts) (granted my car is very dark, and granted the seats are grey leather) a shiny shimmery type thing was smeared across the seat. The moment i saw this, i knew exactly what it was. I mean, it was kind of obvious. Either shes really sweaty in that thigh/ass area, or..... yeah. She played it like "oh, i dont know what it is" (i shouldnt have said anything). Then she called. She called and felt so bad. Was so embarrassed. And it was pretty damn funny to hear her not be able to spit it out.
Sure to the person it happens to its probably the most embarrassing thing ever, but to the other, its just kind of funny. With all this said, I had a pseudo friend date come visit me, and he stayed in my bed when he was here. I have white sheets, and low and behold, the same damn thing happened to me. I was embarrassed a bit, but i guess that fact that he was so cool with it made it not a big deal. My other pseudo date doesnt know that this happened to me, and theres no way im going to tell her.
I wonder
Upon my weary eyed awake this morning, following my dull shower until I used Holiday Spiced aromatic something shower gel, and a hearty breakfast of semi-stale Cherios.... I casually rummaged through my sock drawer to find my daily pair of dress socks. Interestingly enough I happened upon my only "pair", and found one to be of a delightful brown color and the other to be a textured/patterned black. Each quite enchanting in their own right, but combined...I wonder. Following a momentary quandary over my next move I boldly slid each onto their respective foot and marched to the office.
Sometimes I wonder how I am able to deceive people into believing that I am not a social conundrum, and am overall a decently normal dude. How do I get away with it?
Sometimes I wonder how I am able to deceive people into believing that I am not a social conundrum, and am overall a decently normal dude. How do I get away with it?
Harry Potter
http://www.cnn.com/2007/SHOWBIZ/books/07/05/harrypotter.mythology.ap/index.html
I love that news on CNN. CNN. CNN can be about Harry Potter, and its totally legit. Getting on my bus the other day there was a dashing older gentleman (maybe 30), dressed all business like, carrying his breifcase, and reading Harry Potter, Order of the Pheonix. I love that its totally accepted for adults to be reading something considered a childrens book. Then again, if i had walked on the bus and he was reading, oh I dont know, lets say, some sleezy teenage romance "novel" what would i say. Where does one cross the line of acting your age, and enjoying your youth? more on this later with more observations and im not sick of thinking.
I love that news on CNN. CNN. CNN can be about Harry Potter, and its totally legit. Getting on my bus the other day there was a dashing older gentleman (maybe 30), dressed all business like, carrying his breifcase, and reading Harry Potter, Order of the Pheonix. I love that its totally accepted for adults to be reading something considered a childrens book. Then again, if i had walked on the bus and he was reading, oh I dont know, lets say, some sleezy teenage romance "novel" what would i say. Where does one cross the line of acting your age, and enjoying your youth? more on this later with more observations and im not sick of thinking.
Bill Clinton
Yeah, did i mention i saw him. Ya know, the former president of the United States of America. I was lazily walking around downtown frisco, calling my homies trying to figure out what to do on a thursday evening (i dont know if it actually was a thu, but ill pretend). what i actually should have been doing was going home, working out, and enjoying a nice relaxing evening, perhaps watching a movie. but oh no, i was calling around seeing what bar was hoppn'. soooo anyways, as im calling a friend (yes pfenning that would be you), resting my elbows on a newspaper holder thingy, I look up, and directly in front of me, paused at a stop light, was the former (and quite possibly current) Cigar Fucker chilln in a black SUV. His window was the only one not tinted. And so, as you might imagine, i couldnt help but stare. and stare I did. For the entire 30 sec of that red light. and pfenning, im sorry, because i think i lost all idea of what we were talking about. so, the Cigar fucker was drinking, if i remember correctly, Mountain Springs water. Could have been Arrowhead.
speaking of Bill Clinton i read an article in the NY Times today about the Clintons political run. and whether or not Bill is hurting or helping Hilary. I think it shouldnt even really be a question rather hes out charming her, or helping her popularity. Its kind of obvious that with him attached there are pros and cons, but quite honestly i find it annoying that people are even bringing it up. By them bringing it up they are just streaming and continuing the discussion of it and not concentrating on the issues at hand. there. thats my 2 cents.
to be back in grade school
I was inspired to post this because of a story i saw on cnn.com about some middle school in some mid america state that banned touching. Yes, touching. A young chap gave his girlfriend a hug at the lunch table and got reprimanded, his father called, and sent home. What happened to the days of wedgies, and noogies, and kids making out by their lockers?
Birth of a Blog
It is the 21st century! 2007! What do Americans now resort to when we abhor our countries leadership, worry when we will terrorize another country, turn a blind eye to so many others, or are content with having filtered propaganda related to us in the form of "news"?
How do we go on in the midst of existential quandaries and breakdowns? Work in jobs that are disliked? Allow athletes to earn millions a year? Cut education funding? Destroy our environment? Not only create, but embrace reality TV? What happened to reality reality?
How do we live in the highest echelon of wealth and prosperity ever witnessed by civilization, and as a society, are now content with falling asleep at the wheel? Hell! recently we have begun to drink at the wheel! How do WE, the masses, the "great beast", as Alexander Hamilton has called us, RISE up against the corporate-political-autocracy (corporatocracy) and prove that we can grow out of being this "bewildered herd" we have become?
Grab a Starbucks and start a blog. Poof! Changing the world....man I feel good about myself.
DISCLAIMER: Corporatocracy is a borrowed word from a recent book I just finished. "Confessions of an Economic Hitman" by John Perkins. Read it if you want a quick understanding of how the US strives for global hegemony through the use of financial exploitation.
How do we go on in the midst of existential quandaries and breakdowns? Work in jobs that are disliked? Allow athletes to earn millions a year? Cut education funding? Destroy our environment? Not only create, but embrace reality TV? What happened to reality reality?
How do we live in the highest echelon of wealth and prosperity ever witnessed by civilization, and as a society, are now content with falling asleep at the wheel? Hell! recently we have begun to drink at the wheel! How do WE, the masses, the "great beast", as Alexander Hamilton has called us, RISE up against the corporate-political-autocracy (corporatocracy) and prove that we can grow out of being this "bewildered herd" we have become?
Grab a Starbucks and start a blog. Poof! Changing the world....man I feel good about myself.
DISCLAIMER: Corporatocracy is a borrowed word from a recent book I just finished. "Confessions of an Economic Hitman" by John Perkins. Read it if you want a quick understanding of how the US strives for global hegemony through the use of financial exploitation.
interesting
http://www.cnn.com/2007/LAW/06/26/sex.change.inmate.ap/index.html
Watch "The Life of David Gale". Great fucking movie.
This article. "You've got to be kidding me".
Watch "The Life of David Gale". Great fucking movie.
This article. "You've got to be kidding me".
a study of craigslist
my friend and i decided it would be a good idea (dont know why) to post a fake ad up on CL (for all of those not addicted to mindless internet surfing during your work day that means craigslist). im not going to tell you what the ad was for (maybe that will come at a later time), but i will tell you, its is only day 1, and the anthropological study going down is already something to admire.
there are many things questions that come to mind about this.
1- how many people are actually looking at that posting at that very second.
2- how many people, out of those people are actually willing to respond.
3- how many people are spending their workday / time doing this. (how many of those people are public officials or teachers?)
4- how many people, even though not asked to, send pictures.
5- how many people are actually serious?
6- how many people actually have naked pictures of themselves floating around on their hardrives?
7- how many people have had a Geek Squad guy comes to fix their copmuters, and the reason its "broken" is because they haven't emptied their trash bin, and therefore it is clogged with their deleted naked pictures, and hence "broken" to them.
8- that last one is from a story from my friend who works for the Geek Squad. You wouldn't image how many people do that.
I swear, an entire semester worth can be done just studying peoples behaviors on craigslist. How there is a completely new culture created out of the ediquette expected of people interacting with complete strangers in this floating space of code and script. What the hell are our kids going to be like?
there are many things questions that come to mind about this.
1- how many people are actually looking at that posting at that very second.
2- how many people, out of those people are actually willing to respond.
3- how many people are spending their workday / time doing this. (how many of those people are public officials or teachers?)
4- how many people, even though not asked to, send pictures.
5- how many people are actually serious?
6- how many people actually have naked pictures of themselves floating around on their hardrives?
7- how many people have had a Geek Squad guy comes to fix their copmuters, and the reason its "broken" is because they haven't emptied their trash bin, and therefore it is clogged with their deleted naked pictures, and hence "broken" to them.
8- that last one is from a story from my friend who works for the Geek Squad. You wouldn't image how many people do that.
I swear, an entire semester worth can be done just studying peoples behaviors on craigslist. How there is a completely new culture created out of the ediquette expected of people interacting with complete strangers in this floating space of code and script. What the hell are our kids going to be like?
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