I needed it to plow through 200 Voter Guide pages plus 19,748 web sites for all the candidates and issues.
Most were no brainers for me... The ones I really had to think about were Props 86 and 88. They are both certainly well-intentioned, but it's so hard to know what will really benefit the community versus just creating more of a mess. Curious to see how those turn out.
The first contestant kept calling the program, which is basically a pointless game of chance with lots of opportunity for empty hope and little opportunity for success, "the American dream." How ironic.
It was strangely fascinating and although I won't be watching another minute of it, I can see how people get into it. But all I could focus on was Howie Mandel - wasn't it just last year when he was an anti-germ, anti-bacteria, mask- and glove-wearing obsessive? And now he's hugging strangers?
Wonder how much he's getting paid... Talk about the American dream. He should be an inspiration to us all.
Forget the car that gives real-time traffic updates... Never mind the car that parallel parks FOR you...
Check this thing out. File under: wish I thought of that.
I'm on the Comic-Con mailing list because I attended the 2005 event featuring Kevin Smith and a panel discussion with Joss Whedon and the cast of Serenity. I don't really plan to attend again - I mean, it was fun and all, but not the greatest venue for meeting my future husband seeing as how I'm not really into comics or gaming or collecting any of that. Although it was really cool to see the person behind Chewbacca in person - damn that guy has big hands.
I was leafing through the 2007 schedule of events and noticed a photo of Deepak Chopra. Further reading revealed that in addition to being an author and physician, he is also the chairman of Virgin Comics.
I find this fascinating, intriguing and confusing all at the same time.
It was slightly troubling yesterday when Trent Reznor was singing about his "crown of shit" and the "fading fucking reminder" in front of all the Bridge School kids at the big benefit. But he was also completely out of his element, what with it being an acoustic show, and the crowd seemed willing to overlook the somewhat troubling elements of his performance. Besides, all the Death Cab songs were about death too (ironically), so who could begrudge Reznor?
Twenty years of organizing this benefit. Neil Young is DA MAN.
Next Saturday I am going to an event for which the invitation said "black tie optional." None of my wardrobe that might possibly, remotely, poorly qualify for such an event fits anymore. Allllright, shopping time!
I haven't shopped for a formal dress since I (ill-advisedly) went to a fraternity formal with a friend in college. Today it was actually kinda fun. I allotted myself $150 since I recently came into an unexpected $100, and $50 is what I would normally allot myself for such an occasion. I branched out and tried a bunch of different colors instead of my usual black tendencies. I learned that people can make clothes out of polyester and charge a RIDONCULOUS amount of money for them. I buy my polyester at Ross, thank you very much.
I went into stores I normally walk right past (Bebe, White House Black Market, Macy's, Nordstrom) and tried on dresses that cost up to $300. I've never worn a $300... anything... before. I felt very elegant in that (non-polyester) dress. And it looked really good. If only it were 50% off.
And while I didn't end up buying anything, of all the ones I tried on I really liked this dress. It's very me. And Stacy and Clinton would be so happy with how it fit - hell, I was happy with how it fit. And I already have the shoes and purse and wrap and all that girlie crap.
It would mean salads and no cheese all week to make sure it fits by Saturday, but I think I might have to take the plunge. And pray to Christ Almighty that I don't spill red wine on it during the event.
Last night at the Decemberists* show, the intro announcer asked us to turn to our neighbor and make a friend. Rolling my eyes, I turned to Chatty Cathy next to me who'd been yakking with her friend very loudly (and possibly drunkenly) during the whole opening act, that I thoroughly enjoyed, and all I could think was JMFC if they do this the whole time I'm going to have to... ask them politely to quiet down... and if they don't, quite possibly I will kill them.
Chatty Cathy introduced herself and said (twice) how she really admired me for coming to a show alone. "I mean," she does it now and then but she's always standing down on the floor in the crowd. She never went to a show and actually sat alone waiting for the show to start.
I really didn't know what to say ( ... trying to organize my friends to go a show is like herding cats ... you get better seats when you are seating just one person ... THE HELL if I was missing this show just because I might not have anyone to go with - not that I asked, see first example in parenthetical thought process ... going alone means I don't have any Chatty Cathys to deal with ... I am too old and lazy to stand in a crowded floor space for three hours ... ), but since I figured she was drunk I just said thanks. Twice.
I live like a hermit not only in my own head, but in my own day to day life. Willingly. I'm not sure why people think that's so weird. (Or admirable.) Not to be gloomy, but it's been my experience that when you start relying on people, you get burned. If I let me down, it's my own damn fault.
Don't get me wrong. I love all my true friends dearly, each one for very different but very pure reasons. I just have to know that in the end, it's up to me to make myself and my life a happy one.
Perhaps I should just lower my day to day expectations.
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* Holy hell what a fantastic show. I can't remember a show where the crowd screamed SO LOUD for an encore. Thunderous beautiful applause, foot stomping and screaming. And holy hell what a fantastic show.
OH! And on the ballad Friday five. Someone at work asked me to describe their music, and I couldn't think of a decent example to compare them to. He said, "ballads?" And I said "NO!" thinking, of course, of power ballads by the hair bands of the 80s, because that is all that comes to mind when I hear the word "ballad." But then I thought about it, and said, "well, yeah... ballads about fictional characters in history, with lots of stormy seas and warfare, and accordions, pianos, violins, xylophones, bass drums and terribly depressing lyrics about death and love and consumption. And some regular love-type ballads too. It's music you want to listen to on a Saturday where it just rains and rains and rains, nonstop, all day."
He didn't really get it.
My top five favorite hair band power ballads of the 1980's, in no particular order:
The new Decemberists album. Is. Just. Plain. Lovely. On the surface it seems much simpler than their other endeavors, both musically and lyrically - but multiple listens reveal intricacies, complexities and melodies along the same lines of their previous albums. I would love to know which song it was that I heard on iTunes' Indie Pop Rocks radio station approximately one year ago that caused me to immediately buy all their albums to date. Whatever it was, I'm so glad I did. And I'm so excited to see them on Thursday.
The new Barenaked Ladies album is not lovely. It's a bit hokey and I'm hopeful that multiple listens will result in it growing on me. (This happened with Maroon. Maybe this is what they were worried about when they wrote Testing 1, 2, 3 on their last album.) I'm also worried that one or more of them are recently divorced, given the lyrics. Worried in the "hmm I should start stalking them" sense of the word, of course. I'm still excited to see them in November... I've not been disappointed yet.
The new Beck album is definitely going to take multiple listens - but they usually do, and I always end up loving them. I liked what I heard at the Download Festival and fully expect to like the rest just as much. And the album purchase came with videos for each song. The chance to stare at the hottest Scientologist this side of the Mississippi for over an hour? Sign me up!
Q: Who SUCKS?
I'm not a huge football fan, but I was at one point. Of late I've gotten back into the Sunday ritual of game day. It's a family tradition. And my brother has given me countless Raiders paraphernalia items that I should be able to wear proudly (should I ever wear such things, and should the Raiders ever NOT SUCK). And an ex-boyfriend was a GINORMOUS Eagles fan. (I still love the Flyers, but the Eagles? Naaaah. I root for the Steelers just to spite him.)
The real reason is that it's an excuse to drink beer and eat chips, even though I'm watching the game alone.
Mmmmm. Fritos scoops. Mmmmm.
I was in a quirky mood today so I wandered over to the Piedmont to see The Science of Sleep. Turned out I was in the right mood for this movie, up until a certain point near the very end when I saw a bit too much of myself in both of the main characters and then got a little depressed. (Otherwise it was excellent - quirky and laughable and heartfelt. Bordering on lovely - but not quite. Charming, perhaps.)
Then I walked home and, in an effort to catch up on my Netflix, popped in Flight from Death, which (I think) was recommended by a friend. Parts of the documentary describe the work of a team of researchers (one very quirky) who have conducted over 300 laboratory studies that substantiate Ernest Becker's claim that death anxiety is a primary motivator of human behavior, specifically aggression and violence. And then it got sidetracked into a 9/11 montage, and overall it was too focused on America when there were so many other atrocities that could've been mentioned to support the theory, and the end was slightly - but not really - uplifting... But it did offer the final suggestion that we should act for mankind in general in our day-to-day life, versus working for money or fame or fortune. Of course, the people who need to see it will never watch this documentary. (As is the case with most documentaries.)
And then after all the talk of sleep and death I just had to take a nap. And I napped HARD. Me and Her Majesty both. It was a beautiful thing.
As usual, Mark Morford puts it into words so eloquently whereas I can only say "holy hell what the fuck?"
They got them hoppy legs and twitchy little noses.
And what's with all the carrots? What do they need such good eyesight for anyway?
Bunnies. Bunnies - it must be bunnies!
It's kinda weird, being told that your team is committed to making something happen by some ridiculous date outside of their (and your) control, simply because *you* publicly stated that you believe in them (rather than because their managers or some mucky-muck believes in them ... or the project ... or the due date).
But it's also kinda nice.
If Lumbergh has them work on Saturday, I am so there with them. With cookies. For as long as it takes.
Yesterday at the lake I saw a man running with ankle weights and a 10-pound dumbbell in each hand. I also saw a woman hula-hooping her way around the lake. No shit - HULA-HOOPING.
After a particularly interesting case of the Mondays today, I was leafing through my latest issue of Runners World and they've highlighted a blind marathon record-setter, a woman who trained for a marathon while undergoing chemotherapy, and a man who spent nine days in intensive care after an attack and within three months of release, ran five miles at his normal running rate and then ran a great pace for a half-marathon.
And so I sucked it up, and sent out a very proud Unpaid Job email thanking some humble people for doing a fabulous job on something, and then I settled in for another job search. And I realized that I'm doing the best I can with Paid Job, given the circumstances... I'm just not in the right environment.
Oh and also? I cancelled my Runners World subscription. I mean, Jesus Christ already.
Is it Jessica, or is it Ashlee?
Is it Casper, or is it Gwenyth?
Is it Castaway, or is it Matthew? (And OH MY GOD. Here I just thought his abs were big!)
(Oh COME ON, it had to be said.)
Is it Skeletor, or is it Katie?
And finally, I never thought I would say this, but I would KILL to be Jamie Lee Curtis for a day...
Whenever I hear about the Blue Angels coming to town, I get pissed. Why oh why are they spending my tax dollars on such a wasteful unneccesary (and BLOODY LOUD) activity? What's the point?
And then, I see them in action. And I'm totally wowed. They were weaving in and out of high-rises in the city today. It never makes me feel patriotic, but it always makes me stare and eventually grin.
Probably because I always think of Top Gun. Yunno, pre-Tomkat scientology, twenty years ago, back when he was just completely hot and totally obnoxious.
Five things I saw while shopping today, that I do not understand in any way, shape or form, in no particular order:
People of the Bay Area! Listen up. Only 3% of you actually give blood. One hour of your life can save someone else's. You're all eligible, so get out there and give blood!
That is all.
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According to the Red Cross, I have given 51 pints of blood in my life. I'm on the "baby list" - they call me and say "the babies need your blood" which sounds kinda creepy but it's strangely motivating. Motivating enough for me to agree to the 30 minute wait every 8 weeks even though I have an appointment, and motivating enough to make me question getting another coveted tattoo because it will delay my ability to give blood for an entire year. If I do hit the tattoo parlor you'd better believe I will be hounding you all to make up for my slack.
I got a letter from my college alumni fundraisers today. Delivered to my actual address instead of forwarded by my parents.
I spent the last 5 years successfully avoiding them.
Shit. Guess it's time to move again.
Today I walked home scuffing my feet through dry fallen leaves, colored orange and red and yellow, on the sidewalk. Pumpkins are selling at the grocery store, and someone I know has their annually-coveted Halloween treats magazine.
Fall is here!
I love fall. And unlike most people I know, I absolutely love winter. I love when the sun goes down at 4:30pm, it's freezing cold outside (well, as "freezing" as the Bay Area can get) and the only food you feel like eating is soup. I love having to turn the heater on in my car. I love my down comforter.
Summer drives me crazy. With all the sunlight and warm weather I feel totally guilty sitting on my couch watching movies. That's what I do, generally speaking - I sit on my couch and watch movies. Having a whole season where I feel guilty doing so, makes for an unhappy me. Also, I run hot so a season which makes me run even hotter is not so much fun.
However! There is much to be said for the cute sandals that summer encourages.
And so it gets back to shopping... and once again, all is right with the world.
This morning I missed the early bus by about 2 minutes, which meant I got to hang out in my apartment for another 15 minutes and witness this fascinating exchange of stares between Her Majesty and the squirrel who was doing a bang-up job vacuuming the leftover seeds the birds dropped from the hanging birdfeeder:
OK... mostly it was just Her Majesty staring at the squirrel.
I've never seen a cat's neck crane so much as hers did when she refused to budge from her vantage hiding spot, yet she HAD TO SEE what the squirrel could possibly be doing over in the corner of the balcony. Her new nickname? Geoffrey (as in, "the giraffe").
Five reasons I'm skipping the Scott Capurro show at the Punchline tonight, even though I've been wanting to see him for a while now and I already bought the ticket, in no particular order:
Come align for the big fight to rock for you... It's the Download Festival! Don't forget your hoodies, aviator sunglasses, 70's haircuts, Sid Vicious t-shirts, and of course your nine million packs of cigarettes.
Yeah, I'm SO SURE my lack of breath while running today had nothing to do with all the secondhand smoke I inhaled yesterday. And it wasn't even the GOOD kind of secondhand smoke!! That, I wouldn't mind so much.
Damn I'm getting old.*
Who wants honey? As long as there's some money. Who wants that honey?
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* Grumpy-old-lady-bitching aside, it was totally worth my $35 and loss of lung capacity to see The Shins, FINALLY. And also the Yeah Yeah Yeahs who totally rocked. Yeah yeah yeah they did. And Beck, whose puppets re-enacted Snakes on a Plane. On a bus. I love that guy.
