Maybe I should join the Army.

I have been up since 6am. So far today, I have done laundry, spent 5 hours helping a friend with his kitchen flooring, spent 2 hours at the local animal volunteer gig, made what looks to be KILLER cornbread and ran a few errands. And my day is only half done.

Isn't it odd that the older we get, the more rest we need, but the less we are able to sleep in? I can't remember the last time I slept past 6am. Except for yesterday, of course, when I woke up at 6am, laid in bed for a little while, and woke with a start at 8:15am... and my class was starting at 9am. Natch.

On an unrelated note, but not really because I was awfully jealous of the kittens and cats who were soundly sleeping while I was doing my volunteer thing, today I learned that black and black/white kittens and cats are least likely to be adopted. Other than my first cat who I had no say in choosing (Tiger, aptly named due to his orange and white stripes), all my cats have been black or black/white. Is it just the stigma of black cats bringing bad luck? Why's everybody hating on these particular kittens/cats? Can't we all just get along?

OK, off to do more stuff.

"When I was talking to the King last week..."

I have met a lot of interesting people in the classes I've been taking. Actually, I've met both interesting and "interesting" people.

By interesting, I mean the guy who is always able to relate his military experience to our subject matter without making me cringe, and the woman who has my dream job, and the guy who is working lots of small grassroots miracles in his home country through his ingenuity and his powerful connections (see subject line). I might actually have a little crush on that guy, he's very interesting, incredibly smart and cares a great deal about his country. And he has a cool accent.

By "interesting," I mean the woman who repeats the last word of every sentence the teacher says after s/he says it, and the group of Chatty Cathys who sit in the back and mumble to each other while noisily flipping through the pages of the handouts repeatedly, over and over again, with no regard to their surroundings, and the guy who says "SURE!" really, really loud whenever the teacher would ask if something made sense or if we understood the concept s/he was explaining.

On a related note, I smelled a lot of interesting and "interesting" things on the two mile walk back to BART (I parked there and took the train this morning... since it wasn't raining this afternoon and I was stiff from sitting all day, I opted to walk back to my car).

By interesting, I mean the scent of wonderful African spices wafting out of the shops, the perfumes and colognes of the people I passed, and the smell of the sky ready to drop another gallon of rain on us at any second.

By "interesting," I mean that smell coming out of the KFC.

Which brings me to Patton Oswalt (a.k.a. my future husband if all goes well*). How fitting that the voice of a prestigious (rat) chef would review the "failure pile in a sadness bowl" he has mocked on many an occasion - and (basically) live to tell the tale.

_________________
* By "if all goes well," I mean if I ever actually hang out in the same bar as him after one of his shows, gawk from afar for several minutes, work up the courage to offer to buy him a drink, laugh at his jokes for a while, get him into a political discussion for an hour, move the conversation into music/art/film for another four hours, stay up all night talking about our lives/hopes/dreams/baggage/crazy families, and finally convince him that I am the woman of his dreams at which point we fly off to Vegas immediately to seal the deal.

Hey. It could happen.

As an aside, it's really interesting to me that I've done a complete 180 from being attracted to the skinny punk skater beautiful (completely out of my reach) boys, to the boys who I think I would genuinely enjoy being around for several decades. Gasp and swoon, am I finally growing up?

WOOHOO! I mean... I hope he's okay and all, but...

Happiness is: having a hectic few days at work, leaving your office at 5:30pm to drive .15 miles down the street to park near the facility where your (second in a row) evening class (with an unrelated evening meeting the night before last night - all of which means I AM TIRED) begins at 6pm, getting stuck for 25 minutes on Webster Street between 12th and 8th (PEOPLE! 25 minutes to go .15 miles! THIS IS NOT NORMAL!), finally getting over to Franklin Street and parking, rushing to the building, sitting down and having a staff person come in and announce, "Your teacher is actually in the hospital, so there is no class tonight, please sign in and take your booklet for Saturday's class - he's sure he will be here for Saturday's class."

It sounds like he was held on a technicality but was otherwise fine. Which makes me feel better about not being the only one who sighed a big sigh of relief that there was no 3 hour class tonight... after which we all muttered "wow I hope he's OK."

Oh, and a warm gun is also happiness. So I hear. My warm guns kinda freaked me out a few years ago, so I can't confirm that one.

"The years have been short but the days go slowly by."

It's strange to be affected by the death of a person you didn't know at all, especially since I'm not really affected at all by the deaths all around me every single day of people I don't know at all who have just as much promise and future achievements ahead of them as the people I'm about to mention... (I'm actually having significant trouble coming to terms with this part of the story.)

But when I caught a headline of Heath Ledger's death Tuesday afternoon on my way to check email it really gave me pause. He was 28. I hope he enjoyed those years. I am sorry for the years he will not see, and for the years that his child and family will not have with him. Same goes for Brad Renfro (who as only 25).

Wish there was something optimistic I could end this with, but... Enjoy it while you're here. If you're not enjoying it, try to fix that. Do whatever it takes to fix that.

That's all I got.

You're older than you've ever been. And now you're even older.

I am not posting this in order to get "happy birthday" emails or comments, but if that is a consequence, I'm okay with it. I have already received many emails - and two voice mails where people sang "happy birthday" and neither were from my mom, so that was kinda cool. (Although I think those two folks now owe Warner/Chappell $10,000.)

Today is my 33rd birthday. This means that I now share the same age as Alyson Hannigan, Hilary Swank, Joaquin Phoenix, Leo DiCaprio, Ryan Seacrest, Posh Spice and Penelope Cruz... but that I am younger by a few months than Drew Barrymore, David Beckham, Angelina Jolie, Tobey Macguire, Kate Winslet, Tiger Woods... and Tara Reid.

Thank goodness there is someone on that list who I can look at and say, "My life is so much better than theirs."

And now you're older still.

Seacrest out. (Oh, did you think I meant Tara Reid?)

________________
(I did. Actually... it was quite a toss up.)

Three thumbs: "Eh."

One: The Savages. I thought they all did a very good job, particularly Philip Bosco who played the father, and it made me fear the day I will have to take care of my invalid parents, but the fact that the kids were both nearly-or-over 40 years old and didn't have a clue was disheartening. Which is not to say that I will stop listening to Michael Stipe songs, because while he also doesn't have a clue it costs me 3-4 minutes of my life versus 2 hours.

Two: Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? After two attempts of watching this and falling asleep despite all the yelling, I looked it up online and discovered (SPOILER ALERT!) that their "son" is a joke they play on people. Have I mentioned lately that I am so tired of effed up middle class people bitching and moaning? If not, let this be the post. Liz was great and all, but still - BORING.

Finally, Hot Fuzz. I laughed a few times but I did not see what all the "fuzz" was about. Rent "Shaun of the Dead" again, you will have a better time.

And that is all for today. I can't wait for more episodes of The Wire, which I now love. (Have I mentioned lately that I need a life?)

"Wish you were here!"

I am putting together a relief package for someone I know who is going to Burma on a reconstruction trip. The package consists of vitamins for mom & baby, a comb, a mirror, infant nail clippers... all normal stuff, right? But I'm also supposed to include a baby toy, a postcard and a picture of myself.

On the photo - no thanks, too weird. On the postcard - what would I possibly say? I fear it will turn into a soliloquy like the ones scribed by Jack Nicholson in About Schmidt. ("And I know you are very poor, but listen to me whine about my fairly privileged life for just a moment, if you will.") And do I really want to send a picture of bright shiny San Francisco or the lush green hills of Oaktown? I don't think so.

On the baby toy - this one really stumped me. The drugstore and baby store have tons of learning toys featuring the English language, obviously out. I am guessing a Burmese baby wouldn't need a toy stuffed cell phone. The stuffed lobster with crinkly hands and "pull me" feet seemed inappropriate given the skirmish with the government a few years ago (see? I learned something in this endeavor). I settled on a Lamaze bug, which seemed neutral enough. I assume they have bugs in Burma?

This goodwill to others crap is hard. But not as hard as living in Burma these days, I suppose.

Periodic crazy cat lady post.

Cutest. Thing. EVER!! Makes me want to get another one. Well... Almost.

This one seems like a role Her Maj could easily play.

But otherwise, these are just mean. Unlike this, of course, which is just hilarious.

Question o' the day.

Why am I okay handing over $5 in cash to someone selling tickets to this, but not okay handing over any cash to the little boy with the laminated flier raising money for his basketball team? (Maybe because we're #4?)

On another topic, I had a very humbling conversation this afternoon with someone who moved here from a war zone in [an anonymous foreign country currently at war]. There, he got a great education, worked for his government and made lots of money. Here, he makes next to nothing while trying to support a family. How true this must be for so many immigrants. How frustrating it must be to learn after they get here that they could have a wealthier life in their home country. If America really is the promised land, perhaps we should change our promise... (Insert snarky cynical new U.S. motto here.*)

And then I went to Cost Plus and bought a bunch of things I don't really need, and all was well in my head. Yay, capitalism!

________________
* I can't remember if I already mentioned this... The boneheads on a local morning radio show recently had people call in their ideas for mottos for the Bay Area. My favorite? "The Bay Area - better than you since 1969." Haha.

Not really a Friday five.

Five questions you don't see too often on those "fill this out and send it to everyone you know including the person who sent it to you!" questionnaires, that I saw today, in no particular order:

• Ever been to Alaska? Yes.
• Ever been on a ship? Yes, on a cruise around Alaska, actually. I guess ferries don't count but I've been on many of those as well, some even in different countries. I do not recommend the ferry from England to Ireland - blech.
  
• How many times did you fail your driver's license test? Zero when I was 17, once when I was 23 (when I finally updated my MD license to a CA license - damn all those bike laws that us east coast suburbanites have to study for! How humiliating that was.)
• What do you do when you are bored? This, obviously. And also watch Buffy/Top Chef/Top Model/Food Network marathons.
  
• What do you want to do before you die? Wow... a lot: Visit Antarctica. Go on an African safari. Enjoy my job. Swim with dolphins, sea turtles, and great white sharks (not all at the same time). Drive across Canada. Learn how to surf. Write a book... about something. Fly in first class. Touch a grizzly bear. Visit the castles along the river in Germany. Be a food/movie/TV critic. See people actually care about their impact on the environment and make a conscientious effort to change their ways. Milk a cow.
  

It's a deep question but it's really fun to ponder. What's listed above are just the things I probably won't ever do in my lifetime but would love to do - it doesn't include things like "visit New Zealand" or "go to vet school" or "buy a house and have a garden where I grow my own tomatoes" which I totally plan to do before I die.

Think about it. What do you want to do before YOU die?

Animal rescue.

I am currently in training to volunteer at a local animal shelter-type place which shall remain nameless so that I don't get dooced from my volunteer job before I start it. The training is pretty intense, and it always includes a tour of all the rooms where animals are held... Probably because the place is a maze and they want to get us familiar with the layout so we don't end up in a corner, lost for days, like that stupid home improvement store commerical.

Each time I think, I am not sure I can do this. The kittens are adorable, the young cats are precious and the older cats are such divas ("yeah whatever I'll glance your way now and then, adopt me if you absolutely must") that I can't stand it. I WANT TO TAKE THEM ALL HOME IMMEDIATELY. Even the dogs are cute, and how often do you hear me say that?

But then we get to the room that holds the cats who are pending pickup because someone thought they were the cutest, the smartest, the most adoptable... and it all makes sense. And I realize I can do this and it will be doing a lot of good for good animals and good people. And I will get to help them find each other.

It actually puts a lot of things about my job into perspective, and I've been able to appreciate the happy moments long after they occur, and let the bad moments go, or just laugh them off. That's pretty huge.

It doesn't surpress the urge to want to take them all home immediately, of course. That's why I'm a card carrying member of the


Not really. But are you scared that such a thing exists? You should be.

Except that I can't get that damn pie song out of my head.

Waitress is just as good as they all say it is. With any other casting it just wouldn't have worked. Good job, Sunday Boling and Meg Morman.

And the same can be said for The Dead Girl, other than the part about it being just as good as they all say it is because I haven't heard much (if anything) about this movie. But as a general rule, I'll see anything with Toni Collette, and when you put her with Giovanni Ribisi, Piper Laurie, Marcia Gay Harding and the newly brilliant Josh Brolin, well... you find yourself overlooking the fact that you also have to watch Brittany Murphy - but even she was really good. Anyway, it's four vignettes about seven people affected by the same person's death, put together really well. Good job, people associated with this movie.

"Gonna make a pie..." AAAARGH.

This just in, brah...

100% pure adrenaline brings restored faith in humanity.

Of late I've become a believer that there is one thing out there for everyone, just one thing in the world that would cause them to agree to split the prize money equally just to be doing that thing they love with people who share their love of that thing.

I can't wait to find out what my thing is... I'm sure that like the dream house, or the timeless song, or the perfect wave, I'll know it as soon as I see it.

Coincidentally, or serendipitously, or whatever - I watched the Sundance Iconoclast session with Ed Vedder and Laird Hamilton this morning. And now I really want to learn how to surf. Maybe I should become AN F... B... I AGENT!

The objects of my affection.

Idea #37 from the magic book: if my apartment building was on fire, and Her Maj was safely caged and outside, what would I run back for?

Practically speaking:

• My iPod and charger. (Yes, this IS practical. Now shut up.)
  
• My wallet, social security card and passport.
• A Clif bar to tide me over while the chaos dies down.
  

Sentimentally speaking:

• My fifteen year old collection of concert ticket stubs.
• Riley's ashes.
• My marathon medals (one from the AIDS marathon gang, one from the actual marathon and a very cute silver "26" on a chain that some friends gave me after the run).

I'm not much on stuff, or sentimentality. Being frugal and moving four times in ten years has really helped to curb the "stuff" tendency (although I have more stuff now than I ever had before, and I'm dreading this impending move - my next apartment will be HALF this size so that I don't collect more stuff). And not wanting to remember much of the past has really helped the sentimentality bug. I have two shoeboxes of photos and another shoebox of negatives/CDs of photos, but in general all the photos I'd want to recreate are now safely online or at my parents' house. (Well, almost all - but I'm about to fix that.)

This reminds me... I've GOT to get those earthquake kits together. I stumbled across the cans of beans I put in the bottom drawer in the kitchen (a.k.a. my only lame attempt, ever, at an earthquake kit) and noticed the 1999 "best by" date. The flashlight in the drawer next to my bed has dead batteries. I have no radio that does not require electricity. And I ate the last Luna bar I had stashed in my car this weekend while I was running errands.

Mother Nature, take pity on a slacker and wait just one more week, okay? I'll recycle extra hard this week, I promise. Thaaaaaaaanks.

Circa 1978.

Monument with tree, #87.

(This is my favorite photo that I took while I was home.)

Proof that anyone can name a plant.

Taken at the United States Botanic Garden in Washington, D.C. It was actually pretty cool, especially the orchid room. And the "National Mall in miniature" exhibit (all the monuments handcrafted from natural plant materials) gave me hope that creative government jobs really do exist.

Dominic Monaghan better have another trilogy in the works...

... because there are no other reasons why they would've killed him off. All he had to do was close the door from the *other* side and get the diving gear, and he wouldn't have had to drown. Bah.

And in other Disgruntled Lost Viewer News, what is all the fuss about Jack? He's whiny, he's annoying and he seems to be ALWAYS WRONG, yet they still follow him like sheep. Ohhhh... it just hit me, he's Jack Shephard. Clever, boys, clever.

Finally, Kate - pick a man and stick with him already.

All this is not to say that I can't wait for January 31. Maybe I will actually watch it on television this season!

Gasp and swoon, an actual Friday five.

Five things I want my next job to have, in no particular order:

• No direct client, customer, or other 1-1 personal interaction service.
• Hot water in the bathroom.
• Projects that end within 6 months of their start date.
• Two or fewer staff that I manage.
• More than 10 days vacation per year.

Stay tuned for more unfoldings on this front... Happy weekend.

That's entertainment.

Several things I have enjoyed immensely over the past week:

The Last Season: If you had any interest in Into the Wild, read this book. Thanks, friend who loaned it to me - not only did it keep me sane and serve as an escape route with my parents, but it was a fascinating read. And boy do I want to live in the middle of nowhere now.

Speaking of, the soundtrack to Into the Wild: I. Just. Love. Ed. He can do no wrong.

Juno: Brilliant, except for the part about the 16-year olds falling in love (AS IF.). I bought into everything else wholeheartedly and overall I loved the movie. So did the audience I saw it with - they clapped at the end. (Have I mentioned that I {heart} Jason Bateman? I do.)

And also the soundtrack to Juno. Now that my indie music freak who used to spend hours upon hours of his time hunting down cool new music, which he would then share with me, is married with new house and soon-to-be child, I have to rely on indie flicks for my cool new music. I'm OK with that, as long as they keep putting out indie flicks like this.

Sweeney Todd: Also known as, but not to be confused with, There Will Be Blood. There are really only a few movies I've seen in the theater where I've laughed out loud and wanted to clap at the end. Grindhouse and Sin City were among those movies. This one also ranked as an "almost." I had never seen the theater show so I had no idea what to expect, and for anyone who thought that Helena and Johnny did a poor job singing, well - they lived up to my expectations (they're frakkin' actors, not singers already, sheesh) and the film made me smile at the end. (Fans of Buffy will appreciate my almost-gasp-out-loud exclamation of "GILES!" and ginormous grin somewhere near the middle of the first half.)

I Am America: And So Can You: People were looking at me funny when I was laughing out loud at 6am in the morning waiting for the plane to board. It's genius so far and I'm sure the last half won't disappoint. The scariest thing? When I opened it, my brother said, "Oh I love that guy, I agree with everything he says."

Lost: Seven episodes of season 3 watched on the plane ride home (it's a looooooooooooong frakkin' flight, especially when you're sitting on the ground for two hours for no apparent reason), three more watched NYE, today I needed the fix and couldn't wait 4 days for Netflix so I went in search of disc 4 but could only find disc 5, which I consented to rent under the rationale that I could watch disc 4 and then watch disc 5 again after disc 4. It's not even as interesting as the previous seasons, but still... Tie elastic band around arm, insert needle, push plunger, lather rinse repeat. Aaaaaaaaaaaaah, sweet relief.

The trouble with moving to Portland...

... is that I really, really like where I live now. It really struck me yesterday as I was walking around my neighborhood doing a little shopping. Surely they have similar neighborhoods up there. But apparently while there are good places to live, there are also "plenty to ignore. Further south and east are unreformed redneck territory, sufficiently north is ghetto, dog racing, and swamp, southwest is rich people, universities, and river trolls, anything past the west hills is suburban sprawl." So says a friend who lived there once upon a time.

And to paraphrase another friend, wherever I go, there I am. Moving to Portland or Seattle or Chicago or Boston won't change the fact that I'm not happy with where my life is right now. It won't change my attitudes toward working and relationships, neither of which I am remotely interested in - yet this lack of interest seems to cause me grief. I don't understand how not wanting something makes me feel bad about not wanting it. (These things in particular, that is. I don't want an iPhone and I don't feel bad about that.) Maybe it follows the "grass is always greener" theory that caused me to consider moving in the first place?

But it's a new year. I'm turning 33 this month, which for some reason feels more significant to me than 30 was or than 35 will be. I've lived in the same square mile radius for 10 years. With aging parents (and other relatives) and dear oldest friends embarking on parenthood, chances are high that I'll be moving back east in the next 5 years or so, at least temporarily. Now seems to be the time to explore more of the left coast.

It's not like I get out that much anyway... As long as I'm within walking distance of an independent movie theater and a Peet's, and a bus ride away from the equivalent of the Great American Music Hall, I think I could be happy.

Here's to a year of exciting new adventures for everyone!

Belated Friday five.

This feels like a deja vu post, but five things I will not miss about being home, in no particular order:

• Dial-up internet access.
• Washing the dishes before I put them in the dishwasher.
• Calling to report my whereabouts every two hours.
• All the damn Bush bumper stickers.
• Not being able to buy wine at the drugstore.

All in all the trip was OK. I didn't plan in advance, so I spent way too much time cooped up with my parents,* all my visits with friends were somewhat rushed and I didn't get to see my extended family.

On the plus side, I did run about 30 miles throughout the week simply because the treadmill was an easy escape from the nitpicking questions (which Mom would ask, and then Dad would walk into the room and repeat a few seconds later) about every little thing I was reading or watching or eating or thinking. And I am now officially hooked on Guitar Hero, courtesy of my brother.

Next year if I go home I'm making an hour-by-hour schedule... Or staying at a hotel. Or taking some crack with me.

________________
* I spent this past Thanksgiving with a friend and his family, and the drama factor was so low that I forgot to detox by watching the movie I watch every single Thanksgiving and Christmas. I actually remembered the next day, put it in and got distracted so I never finished watching it. This past Christmas day, though? I was jonesing for it sooooo bad. Float. Just float.

"My precious time keeps slippin' past."

Even though parking is free at work, I try to take the bus at least once a week. It's a 5-minute walk from where I get off to the office, and if I'm early I can stop by Whole Paycheck and get a fresh bagel or latte. It's hard to be early, though, when the bus is constantly 20 minutes late. I really don't understand how that works because my bus line only RUNS every 20 minutes... So does another bus show up right after the bus I get on?

This morning I waited patiently for 20 minutes in the freezing cold* and just as my toes became frostbitten and I was about to cross the street, head back to my garage and get into my car... the bus arrived. Environmental duty of the day done.

Speaking of public transport. I fly home Saturday night, and I'd offered to spare my parents the trouble of picking me up at Far Far Away Land Airport in the wee hours of the morning by saying I would take the bus to the Metro and they could pick me up at the stop closest to them around 8:30am. The bus didn't even start running until 7am and this whole process was going to take me about 3 hours. So of course, secretly I was hoping they would say, "oh, nonsense, we'll pick you up at Far Far Away Land Airport, don't be silly," but instead I got "OK sounds good, call us when you're 3 stops away." Guess they finally caught on to all the Guess jeans and video games I insisted on having as a child, and for that I can't blame them.

I got a shocking call from my mom this afternoon. She said, "call your brother, he wants to pick you up at the airport on Sunday morning." I said, "does he know I'm getting in at 5:45am? And that it's Far Far Away Land Airport, not 15 Minutes Away Airport?" She said, "yes he does, now call him and say thank you." I said, "do I really have to call him?"

I never, ever talk to my brother on the phone. Occasionally I get a random email or text message from him, or vice versa, but rarely do we actually have a conversation unless we're in the same room. So I called him, and I said, "hello, this is your sister," and we proceeded to have a hilarious conversation and made plans to play Guitar Hero (awwwwwyeah!) and make homemade pizza while I'm home, and he really truly is going to pick me up on Sunday morning because I'm "already going out of my way to come home, why should it have to involve a bus and the Metro in addition to a six hour flight."

Of course, he is still my brother who has trouble waking up before 10am if his life depends upon it, so I'm taking all the bus-to-Metro info just in case, but still... He really surprises me sometimes.

Happy holidays to you and your crazy families this season.

________________
* HA! I thought this morning was cold? Wait till I hit 35 degrees on the lovely east coast!

Never thought I would say this...

... but I wish I lived in West Hollywood. Or at least, that I lived there last Monday. Have I mentioned that I {heart} Joseph Gordon-Levitt? (Recently, I mean?)

Short commutes are dangerous to my ongoing mental health.

You know how they say that if you can't get to sleep after trying for at least 30 minutes, you should get up and do something else, and that you shouldn't do anything other than sleep in your bed because it encourages sleeplessness if it's not your "100% pure place o'sleep"?

In my previous job I had to commute about 60 minutes round trip once or twice a week (luckily, in reverse traffic). In the "going" portion of the commute, I listened to either Plans, Transatlanticism, Oh! Inverted World, Chutes Too Narrow (the four albums I bothered to put on cassette tape since I don't have a CD player in the car), or my iPod on complete shuffle when I remembered to bring it with me. In the "return" portion, I listened to The Crane Wife and talked to myself about the joyous crises of the day and how I really, really, really needed to find a new job. (And cursed California drivers, of course.) It was therapeutic.

My commute is now 5 minutes each day. When I get home I usually spend the first 2 hours unwinding and talking to myself about the crises du jour/week and how I should've could've would've handled them better. And then I stew for another hour until I find some distraction, which usually ends up being something crafty, a TV series on DVD, a writing project, or a glass (or three) of wine. Or a combination of any/all of those things.

In some cases this is good because I am learning from my mistakes and I am definitely employing those learnings going forward. In most cases this means I never really escape from work.

I need a longer commute. Maybe I should've agreed to that second interview in Mountain View...

I will survive.

It's been a while since I've done a meme, and I saw one on a friend's blog recently, so I figured, what the heck. Apparently, each of the Survivor contestants have to fill out a questionnaire and they get asked the same questions each year, presumably to figure out where their weaknesses lay so that everyone else can tempt them with cocoa and fresh avocados and peanut butter and whatever.

I don't ever watch Survivor, ever (no patience) but I'm a sucker for a meme so here goes... Ironically, there's no "books/music you would want on a desert island." Guess I'll save that for a Friday five someday soon.

FAVORITES:

• Colors: sky blue, sunset pink (only in actual sunsets), any shade of green... and of course, black.
  
• Scents: the smell of bread baking, cinnamon, fresh coffee, sawdust, freshly cut grass.
  
• Flowers: any that are still in the ground.
  
• Board Games: Risk, Monopoly, Scrabble... I'm old school.
  
• Video/Computer Games: other than the pirate game on Facebook I don't play these things, unless you count the re-enactments of Coleco Vision's Zaxxon and Donkey Kong that my brother ran across a while back.
  
• Sports to play: flag football, long distance running (which I *will* get back into, I *will*).
  
• Sports teams: don't really know, don't really care (especially since John LeClair pimped himself to the Penguins), although occasionally I will watch a hockey or football game... Nothing like good clean violence to soothe the savage soul.
  
• Outdoor activities: hiking, running, walking, people-gawking.
  
• TV shows: “House," "Good Eats," "Roseanne" reruns, "Buffy" reruns.
  
• Movies: “Princess Bride" and "Hair" all the way.
  
• Music: the Decemberists, the Cure circa 1989, Modest Mouse... everything else depends on the time of day, the time of year, the weather outside, and my mood at the time.
  
• Magazines: Runner's World, Running Times, Sunset, Mother Jones.
  
• Books/Authors: anything by Hemingway, Kerouac, David Sedaris or Stephen King.
• Cereals: Grape Nuts.
  
• Fruit: Um... grapes? Bananas? Sadly, I don't like a lot of fruit. Unless it involves peanut butter, which apples go really well with.
  
• Chips/snacks: Frito's as a guilty pleasure (the "scoops" are particularly enticing), reduced fat Trader Joe's imitation Cheetos as a semi-guilty pleasure. Otherwise it's reduced fat Triscuits, no exceptions.
  
• Cookies: if there's no peanut butter involved, no thank you.
  
• Candy bars: if there's no peanut butter involved, no thank you.
  
• Alcoholic drinks: oh... any will suffice, no peanut butter required.
  
• Non-alcoholic drinks: Peet's anything, cranberry juice, decaf green tea if I need to chill out.
  

Et tu, Brute?

Belated Friday five.

Five movies I have watched recently, and my opinion of those movies, and in some cases, what you should watch (or rewatch) instead, in no particular order:

• Two Weeks. Sally Field, Tom Cavanagh, a bunch of other people who looked vaguely familiar... I really expected more from this. Go for Steel Magnolias instead. Even a rerun on Lifetime with commercials would be a better use of your precious hour and a half. (I've probably seen it 20 times and the hospital scene makes me bawl Every. Single. Time.)
  
• Freedom Writers. About halfway through I wandered off and started making cookies out of sheer boredom, meanwhile hoping that something in the film would grab me and pull me back in. No such luck. Watch Iron Jawed Angels instead - same lead characters, much better film.
  
• Dave Chappelle: Killin' Them Softly. Sixty minutes of pure genius comedy. Just keep watching his show.
  
• BSG: The Story So Far. A colossal waste of time, just as the reviews on Netflix predicted, but I still got a fix. Skip it and go straight into season 3 whenever it's BLOODY RELEASED ALREADY AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH.
  
• The Lord of the Rings trilogy. It was on some cable network yesterday, the whole trilogy, and while I was doing various cleaning and much-needed organizing things around the apartment I left it on in the background.

People. If it's been a while since you've seen these films (and I know all of you have seen these films) you should really watch them again. At some point during The Two Towers, probably around the time that Aragorn bursts through the castle doors in that manly way of his, I ended up just doing the cleaning during the commercials because I got totally sucked back into that world...

And I also realized that I really need to go to New Zealand.

Really. And really soon.

Public service announcement.

The Closer: the Singles gal as the Deputy Police Chief of the Priority Homicide Division of the LAPD? Really, really good.

Saving Grace: the star of my favorite holiday movie as an Oklahoma City police detective? Really, really good.

NCIS: any show that doesn't have characters vomiting when they enter a tomb where two bodies decomposed and subsequently blew up? Really, really bad. Maybe they need a gal to step into charge there.

"It's like my mom says, 'The weak are always trying to sabatoge the strong.'"

"Dear Voter:
You are receiving this notice because you are not registered with a qualified party... State law provides that voters not affiliated with a qualified political party may request the ballot of a political party in a Primary Election, if the party has provided for this in their rules... Not all political parties have chosen to participate..."

Options: American Independent, Democratic

Hmm. So is it a good thing or a bad thing that Republican is not an option? Or does it not matter anyway because Republicans are so adamant about their political party that HOW DARE ANYONE ASSUME they would not register with a qualified party? Maybe it's just us danged wishy-washy liberals who can't commit - and surely the elephants don't want us in their camp.

[Digression. How the hell did the "collective we," which I won't commit to, get stuck with a donkey as our mascot? Seriously? A DONKEY? End of digression.]

"Requesting a party ballot for the Primary election does not change your registration... However, your voting history will show which party you chose."

Um... EH?? Have I been naive in assuming that my vote really was anonymous to some degree? Did I know that and just suppress it all these years? I mean, I know they have to track the party I'm affiliated with so they know what to send me ahead of time, and they have to track the fact that I've voted so that I can't vote again, but... EH??

I am sooooooo moving to Canada. Or France. Yeah, France! That'll show 'em.

Animal crackers in my soup.

First up on my "background movie watch while I make Christmas cards" was Steal Me. I got what she was trying to do, but... Eh. I am glad to see that one of the kids has gone on to star in lots of other things, though. And I made a lot of Christmas cards while it was on in the background.

And then I popped in Zodiac, and HOLY GUACAMOLE. Between an all-star cast that did not disappoint (I {heart} Jake... and Mark... and Robert), a relevant and real plot, and excellent direction, I damn near caught the glue gun on fire.

OK, not really, but I did get awfully distracted for 2.5 hours. Watch this one.

My luck runneth over.

For my birthday about four years ago, a friend at work got me a "lucky bamboo" which flourished over the years due in most part to utter neglect (may I direct you to the snake plant challenge?), and now bears the honor of housing several barrels of monkeys. I added the monkeys as a Christmas decoration gag several years ago and they never left the tree.

For my birthday last January, my oldest friend sent me three stalks of "lucky bamboo" in a special vase in honor of my new job and my new start in life. I've maintained it as the instructions required, but two of the stalks have died and the other is on its last legs.

I think this is quite telling in sooooooooo many ways.

I'm considering a third tattoo for my 33rd birthday, but I now officially doubt that it will involve bamboo. Possibly a creatively drawn "33" in an ocean or wave motive (I must live near the ocean no matter what else, and I'm an Aquarius, so it all seems to make sense). Drawings and tattoo parlor recommendations now being accepted. I do love Zebra already, but I'm open to other options.

I think other people call them "damn I'm old" moments, but whatever.

I'm watching the Charlie Brown Christmas special extravaganza on ABC (or is it CBS? I can never remember) and I had a nostalgia moment.

I had a sudden wish to be eight years old, eagerly anticipating Christmas morning where I could open my presents and play with my new toys and forget about real life (which would've consisted of brother issues, friend issues and homework, I suppose) for a whole day. Eagerly anticipating candlelight services at my church the night before. Eagerly anticipating the warning of snow and our fireplace all lit up and cozy and me taking dictation while my dad narrated a holiday greetings letter to my cousins in New Jersey - our tradition for a few years there. Eagerly anticipating the trek to my grandmother's house to watch her make homemade rolls and watch everyone gorge on dinner and pumpkin pie.

At times like these, I realize the value of family, and I start to crave one of my own. I start to think that maybe I should be within three hours driving distance of my parents (but no closer than three hours!). I wish I'd gone home for Thanksgiving.

Then I change the channel and watch a disgruntled doctor barking orders at his peons, and all is right with my world again.

Public service announcement.

Misto sprayers should only be used by trained professionals. This morning I somehow managed to slice open my thumb and ring finger while I was pumping air pressure into the canister... And they think it's a good idea to mix Mistos with alcohol? Yikes.

Add to this morning's events the coffee mug I broke (one of my faves), the handmade Christmas ornaments I dropped on the floor (several casualties, not good), and the two wine glasses I broke yesterday at a friend's house ("no really, stop doing the dishes already"), and I think it's safe to say I should not leave the apartment for the rest of the year.

"I carried a watermelon?"

The 80's child in me was quite impressed with this recreation of the infamous "nobody puts Baby in the corner" scene. They totally nailed it.

And if you must do something unique for your wedding, I guess it's a little more appropriate than singing and dancing to this little ditty at the reception... Which is what I would do.

I prefer the other Dan.

I took today off and to prevent myself from being tempted to check work email, I left the house at 10:30, hit the gym, hit the Public Market for lunch and then paid way too much money to see Steve Carell's latest endeavor.

Commentary in my head throughout the movie:

"I don't know any 14 year old who acts like that... wouldn't it make sense just to TELL people that she's the one from the bookstore?... why does that actress look so familiar?... man, I REALLY don't know any 14 year old who acts like that... this is getting painful to watch... how is no one else noticing their googly eyes at each other?... hey dumbass dad, you forgot to see what your adorable daughter made you... OMG just effing tell everyone already... but not THAT way you dumbasses... who the heck IS THAT WOMAN??"

There were moments where I appreciated Steve. He actually did a really good job with a really crappy story.

OK, it wasn't a crappy story. It had a beginning, a middle, and a happy end. Maybe that was my issue with it. I suppose it would be a good date night movie.

Me, I should've opted for The Mist instead. Roger Ebert called it "a competently made Horrible Things Pouncing on People Movie." Sounds good. Maybe Sunday.

I did see a preview for Alvin & the Chipmunks featuring Jason Lee as the human. I have a soft spot in my heart, both for Jason who has worked magic in many Kevin Smith films and as Earl, and also for Alvin. I must've listened to Chipmunk Punk a thousand times as a kid. (I don't think any of the songs covered on this album were appropriate for kids' ears, but hey, neither was REO Speedwagon and I listened to that a thousand times as a kid too.) Point being, it didn't look terrible and I might have to check this out with my parents over the holiday.

And that was my day off. Could've been better, but it was a million times better than a day at the office.

(The familiar woman was Susan from Friends. Whew, thank goodness for IMDB. I can sleep tonight.)

Friday five.

Top five reasons I politely declined a second interview at a really cool company, in no particular order:

• I have enough road rage driving from home to Emeryville, can you imagine how bad it would be with a 2-hour commute each day?
• There were typos in the job description. (Seriously. To a normal person this wouldn't be a factor, but to me? Nix.)
  
• The position didn't really seemed like it belonged anywhere specific; it wasn't assigned to a particular project.
  
• My friend kinda wants the job.
  
• I hate technology.

I suppose one of my answers should've been, "I still have hope for my current job," but at the moment I can't honestly say that is true. Upper management is nothing to write home about, nor is the specific job I have ended up doing. It's been a tough week, but I could say the same about at least one week a month since I started, and it's not fixing to get much better. At least, not anytime soon.

So in the words of the great Billy Joel, "I'd rather laugh with the sinners than die with the saints - the sinners are much more fun."

Oh, wait, I meant, "momma, if that's moving up, then IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'm moving out."

Belated Friday five.

OK, it's time for the obligatory "what I'm thankful for" Friday five. (Actually, I guess it's past the time. Whatever.) So here we go, in no particular order:

• I'm thankful that I have cabinets and a refrigerator/freezer full of food even if I don't always want to eat any of it, and that the food I AM eating has caused me to put on a few pounds so that my clothes aren't falling off me anymore.
• I'm thankful that I have money to spend on movies even if they sometimes suck, and on crafty gadgets like this one even if this card making thing is just a passing phase, and on books even if I've had them for three years and haven't cracked them open yet.
• I'm thankful that my building manager let me hang a bird feeder on my balcony so that I could spend an hour or so each day watching the teeny little sparrows flit and fleet about, and the big pigeons waddle around on the railing getting the scraps, and the squirrel leaping from the balcony to the tree whenever Her Majesty runs to the window. (Her Majesty is also thankful for that. It's the only fun she has these days.)
• I'm thankful that the weather seems to finally be turning, and that the leaves are crunchy under my feet and the air is crisp and clean.
  
• And of course, I'm thankful for my family and friends and that they are healthy and (generally speaking) happy.

I think that's more than five, but what the heck.

"It's bad enough that the movie is about uninteresting people's problems...."

"... what's worse is that it's about snobs..."

You would think that by now, I would know to read Stephanie Zacharek's movie reviews in advance.

"Is that a true story?" "It's true that it's a story."

Instead of the character film about "a mess of thrashed relationships and exposed family secrets" (saving that for tomorrow, it was too close to Thanksgiving to see such a thing), I took in the Coen brothers' latest endeavor, a masterful, beautiful tale of pure evil in search of $2 million and a sheriff in search of the good old days when being evil made sense.

I think I will be thinking about this film for days to come. It's stories like this that make me wish I still had that part of my brain that could write a five-page paper on foreshadowing through lofty prose and the symbolism behind the cattle stun gun. (Did you know that Simon from Lord of the Flies symbolized Jesus? ... Well, everyone knows that NOW, but did you know it in tenth grade?)

Then I hit BBV for my frakberry fix of disc 2, season 2.5. Because there is no way in hell I can wait until Tuesday's Netflix delivery to see what happens next, and the local indie video store only had disc 1, season 2.5, which I demolished yesterday when I got home from dinner.

DAMN YOU, CONNIE. I will never, ever listen to another one of your infotainment recommendations. You have stolen YEARS of my life from me. YEARS!! (OK, probably just weeks, but still. You made me resort to BBV. For shame, for shame!)

Moral dilemma.

On this lovely Black Friday, do I pay round-trip BART fare and full price for a movie ticket to see What Would Jesus Buy, or do I walk to the Piedmont and pay 1/2 price for a matinée of Margot at the Wedding?

I'm thinking the latter.

Would Jesus have bought paper towels today? (I really needed them.)

Courtesy of my aunt...

Happy Thanksgiving!

Would Jesus get up at 4am for a bargain?

I have to say, I'm morbidly curious to see who actually shows up at Mervyn's at 4am Friday morning to shop. I doubt I will make the effort to get up and observe, but the curiosity is definitely there.

As for my Friday, I'll be watching this movie... you know, to celebrate the fact that we've seen the back of another black (Fri)day.

And in today's news...

... we're number four!

Sigh.

Public service announcement.

I HATE VISTA.

That is all.

And oh that blowfish blow.

Food + wine + whiskey + The Little Mermaid. Good times, good times.

Frakkin' addicted, indeed.

OK, Connie, I finally get it.

Season 2.0, here I come! New PR: must finish 2.0 and 2.5 before season 3 of Lost is released...

God, I need a life.

Facebook explained.

"I like the low-pressure stay-in-touch ability it offers. Meaning, I would like to keep in touch with people and let them know that I'm thinking of them without having to engage in a time-consuming and potentially stilted conversation. It enables me to be friendly without fear of social awkwardness, when I can just poke someone or send them a jello shot. I really like the status update feature. It's concise and present-tense. So you stay updated on your friends' lives without having to actually talk to them.

"Plus, I've already become friends with 3 long-lost childhood friends, who I'm happy to know still exist on this planet, but I don't really have anything to say to them."

This was one response I got when I asked several friends what this Facebook thing was all about. I'm still not 100% sold, but this explanation definitely encourages me to play around more...

Or makes me want to run screaming to the hills at the utter lack of human contact our lives have resorted to.

One or the other.

Public service announcement.

Dear Planned Parenthood,
I really like your organization and everything, I do. But actually, barring any unforeseen Christmas miracles, no, it COULDN'T happen to me. Thanks for the big, bold reminder on the outside of the envelope though.

Love,
Jen(n)

All joking aside - support Pill Patrol, which is what this mailing was really about.

And do not under any circumstances support Fred Thompson, who said "We could not get to first base on an amendment [to ban abortions] when we controlled both houses and the presidency." And isn't it ironic.

Randomly opening the Magic Book to the page that says I write about...

Blowing my budget. (Page 33 of the magic book.) Apparently, I just came into ten million dollars. Assuming that the GET BENT TAX MAN will take 33%, as he is wont to do, I will be left with approximately $7 million.

Anyway, here's how I would spend what's left:

• First, I would allocate enough of it to ensure that my parents could fix up their house, sell it at a much higher price than they're estimating, move wherever they wanted and live happily without needing to worry about income for the rest of their lives.
  
• Next, I would pay off my brother's mortgage, my good friends' mortgages and any relatives' mortgages who I like and keep in contact with
• Then, I would pack up all my crap into storage, pay my health insurance for the next four to five years, find a permanent sitter for Her Majesty (or buy an RV so she could come along) and quit my job so that I could spend the years driving all over the place and traveling all over the world.
• Finally, assuming I didn't find any worthwhile places to live or worthwhile causes to devote the rest of my money to (both of which are very doubtful), I would invest whatever is left over into a killer retirement fund so that I could retire at 50 and live a wonderfully happy and fulfilling life.

And that's how I would spend ten million dollars should I someday, someway fall into it. Let the record show that life is too short to stay in one place for too long.

I only smile in the dark.

It's cold and raining and I'm as happy as Garbage on a complicated day. Not that I'm in a crappy relationship or that I'm monumentally depressed ~ I'm really just happy when it rains. It's a great excuse to curl up with a book and a kitty, or a cup of tea and a kitty, or a Battlestar Gallactica marathon and a kitty, or a bowl of soup and a kitty, or a Food Network marathon and a kitty...

Actually, when all is said and done it really just works out for the kitty. But in the end, it's all about her anyway so what difference does it make?

Not that SHE CARES, of course, as long as couch and lap are involved...

I am Jack's lonely hearts club band.

I was catching up on people I don't know tonight, and I realized something. Joseph Gordon-Levitt, in addition to being incredibly hot and a fantastic actor once you get past that Third Rock crap, reminds me of someone. Is it Ed Norton from Fight Club? Is it Johnny Depp from all the non-pirate, non-English roles he has portrayed? Is it ~ gasp~ someone I already, actually, know?

I can't place it, but there's just something comforting and familiar about his mannerisms. And also, something confident and unassuming that you don't see in a lot of people.

Attention, people who are on the lookout for dates for me: take notes on this guy. He's exactly what I'm looking for... only 10 years younger. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing...

Friday five.

You know that saying... The one that goes, "the left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing?" Well, what happens when the left hand doesn't know what the LEFT hand is doing?

I mean... I MEAN... First it was 1400 gallons, which was appalling in and of itself. Now it's 58 THOUSAND gallons, and "oops we responded too late"? Whose idea was it to let a big freakin' ship try to go under the bridge in low visibility fog in the first place? Those poor, poor birds and animals.

Not to mention, this has seriously derailed my Thanksgiving dinner plans which originally consisted of dungeonous crab. Now I might actually have to resort to Tofurkey. Meh.

(Just kidding, I would never, ever, EVER resort to Tofurkey. But I'll probably eat some other fake meat just to spite all you cow, lamb, duck, chicken and turkey killers out there.)

Unrelated, I've been pulling some "would you rather" questions for an icebreaker activity tomorrow. Top five "would you rathers" that I've come across, in no particular order (in fact, I'm not even sure how I would answer some of these... good thing I'm in charge of the activity!):

Would you rather...

• be burned to death or listen to Celine Dion music for the rest of your life?
• see proof of UFOs or proof of unexplained earth creatures like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster?
• live the rest of your live with crayons for teeth or live the rest of your life with the hiccups?
• have a perpetual intelligent discussion with a stupid person or a perpetual stupid discussion with an intelligent person?
• have a lifelong belly-button that dispenses ketchup without warning, or have the American Idol theme song play whenever you walk in to a room for the rest of your life?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Behold the power of the InterWeb.

Less than 24 hours after posting this, I got a great tip on a Virgin Airlines flight (red eye going, which I've always dreamed that Southwest would do someday) that ended up costing me $350. It's slightly less convenient than flying out of Oakland into BWI, but to save $600 I'd walk to SFO, fly straight into Washington DC and walk from the runway to my parent's house, so in the end this is a better deal. For everyone involved. Yeah, I'm cheap. I'm not shy about admitting that.

And now I'm going to start posting all my daily problems on this blog so that everyone can solve them for me! Magic.

It's ONLY NOVEMBER SIXTH ALREADY.

So why are all the Christmas west coast->east coast flights either already booked or almost $1000? I've booked flights home around the Thanksgiving time frame several years in a row, and I've always been able to use a free Southwest ticket and still arrive and leave in a reasonable time frame.

I am SO SURE that George Bush is to blame for this. SO VERY SURE.

Maybe I'll just go home for my birthday instead. That will at least give me more time to Christmas shop if my family agrees to have Christmas on January 21.

Bah. I SOOOOOOO can't wait for 2009. I don't even care who gets elected, just GET HIM OUT.

Here's a penny! It's from the year I was born! It's a sign!

This morning waiting for the bus - which is always ten minutes late now, what's up with that?! - I realized my Purpose: I need to see every single Arcade Fire show that ever exists starting NOW.

"Purpose, it keeps you going strong like a car with a full tank of gas. "

"I don’t know why but I know I can’t stay... Keep the car running."

That can't just be a coincidence.

And in today's news...

A strange and unrelated example of why I don't believe in the death penalty.

Thank goodness I won't have to supply our garbage bins with charcoal doohickeys from Sur La Table for the next month.

Oprah ruined the marathon. (OK, I have a serious beef about this. Five years ago if you told me I would run a marathon I would've laughed in your face. Last year I did it, and to this day it's still my biggest accomplishment. I was so inspired by all the men and women in our running group who toughed it out and finished. Never mind the time it took, they - WE - finished. So yes, damn that Oprah making her bonbon-eating viewers aware that exercise is important. BAH.

Just kidding about the bonbon-eating part. I love Oprah.)

Look what my apparently-long-lost-relative made! I waaaaaaaaaaaant one!

Oh, and finally in today's news... I am tired of earthquakes, California allergies and balmy November days. I miss snow.

Belated Friday five.

Five recommendations from today, in no particular order:

• Picking up a copy of the 2008 EcoMetro Guide, featuring coupons for Bay Area green businesses and all-purpose green products. I got mine from Earthsake on Fourth Street. Rumor has it, you can get it from Elephant Pharmacy and various other East Bay shops, or just order online to save the paper bag.
  
• Planning your day around a letter of the alphabet. For example, the letter "R" could begin with breakfast at Rudy's Can't Fail Cafe, followed by rowing a canoe around the estuary or running Inspiration Point, lunching on authentic rice and beans, followed by reading to blind people, recreating a dream through charades, replacing all of your light bulbs with energy-saving bulbs, or releasing a small spider into the wild via your balcony.
  
• Lunching at Tacubaya (the vegetarian chile relleno, followed by churros, is highly recommended).
• Exploring a new place in the Bay Area, like maybe Albany Hill, the lump by the freeway on I-80 near Albany that features lovely views, Ohlone-made mortal bowls in the rocks at the base of the trail, and no more manufacturing of explosives (may those victims rest in peace).
• Spending the day with good friends.

It's so easy (and so typical) for me to go about my weekend solo, but dinner last night, the adventures today and all the subsequent incidental or purposeful conversations were incredibly priceless, especially given my current state of mind. Thank you, friends. Canada 2008?

Gives Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles a whole new meaning.

Another visit to my reptile friends at the East Bay Vivarium today prompted my non-reptilian friends to question the rule that turtles under four inches can only be sold for educational or scientific purposes. I'd seen the sign during every visit and thought it was odd, but the thought was always fleeting because I would suddenly become distracted with a baby tree frog or yellow anaconda. Turtles are cute and all, but they have never been my thing.

A quick Google search on the oh-so-eloquent phrase "why turtles less than 4 inches only educational" (yes, that's really what I typed in) revealed that this is actually an FDA regulation:

"The sale of turtles with a carapace length of less than 4 inches has been banned in the U.S. since 1975 because of the public health impact of turtle-associated salmonellosis."

OK... but all turtles can transmit Salmonella, so why restrict sales on just the baby turtles? A more eloquent search on "turtles under 4 inches" got me to About.com, which tells us:

"Four inches was chosen with the thought that most young children wouldn't try to put a turtle larger than this in their mouth (of course, putting a turtle in your mouth isn't the only way to be infected with Salmonella). However, restricting turtle sales to those greater than 4 inches probably also helps reduce the incidence of Salmonellosis by reducing turtle sales, since hatchlings are much more irresistible than larger turtles. Also, kids are probably less inclined to play with the larger turtles in the first place."

And here's the public service announcement: think twice the next time you order turtle soup.

South Carolina Public Service Announcement.

After almost seven years of our tax dollars going to a war we do not support, let us anti-Dubyah-liberals have some freakin' fun already... Scared of competition? Find a good candidate!

I mean, seriously.

Seriously!!

Oh, and remember: next Friday... is Hawaiian shirt day.

As part of Mandatory Fun Day tomorrow, we have to tell two truths and a lie. My competitive side is trying to think up outlandish truths and lies I could tell about myself. So far on both ends, I've got:

• My dream pet is a six foot albino Burmese python.
  
• I've been to six of the seven continents.
• I can break into almost any car made before the year 1997.
  
• I've never been to Big Sur.
• I once wore a pink bunny suit, stood in front of a grocery store and sold candy for charity.
• I love rocky road ice cream.
• I've seen Hair at least 25 times.
  

BOR-RING.

Maybe I should mention that time I spent as a chicken sexer in college, or my eBay collection of potato chips that look like Jesus?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I swear the pattern was called "Spooked," not "Home Alone"... The Mac Culkin reference didn't even occur to me until someone mentioned it. But you should see the pumpkin hand cutouts I got from this. I've got to figure out something creepy to do with them at the office... Suggestions welcome.

File under: not something you think about on a normal day.

I have to admit... Until tonight, I never wondered whether Robert Smith and Johnny Cash only wore black underwear.

Friday five.

Five reasons I hate California drivers (myself excluded), in no particular order:

• If you're in the left lane on a three lane road, and you suddenly realize you need to make a right turn, instead of going to the next intersection to turn around, you cut across three lanes of traffic and screech to a turn.
  
• You don't use your freakin' turn signal. NO ONE USES THEIR TURN SIGNALS. (Except me. AHEM.)
• You don't care about pedestrians unless you are one at the moment.
• You think it's okay to block the intersection even though the road clearly states: KEEP CLEAR.
• You don't understand the zipper concept of merging lanes. Come on, people, the car in front of me goes, then I go, then you behind me go. It's not rocket science.

This lame post brought to you by CALIFORNIA DRIVERS.

All's quiet.

I haven't been posting as much lately, and I don't expect to be posting more than 2-3 times/week in the coming weeks. There's just too much going on, most of which I can't talk about here. Or that I'm choosing not to talk about. It's been an interesting and extremely challenging month, both personally and professionally. Generally speaking, part of me is in it for the long haul, and the other part is ready to run screaming to Toronto or some other far away place for six months or the rest of my life.

However! This does not mean that I'm not signing up for NaNoReMo (I have read one chapter of, and I intend to finish in November, The Brothers K, which I bought because of the great job the author did on The River Why but which I have sat on for about 3 years)... And I will update you all accordingly. My goal is to take at least 3 lunch hours per week in the alcove where I can eat and read in peace.

My ultimate goal, actually, is to get through that book so that I can start on Chronicles, which I've been sitting on since Christmas 2005. Pathetic.

More proof that Joss Whedon is my master now.

Years ago, I was at craft night with some friends. It was Tuesday night so Buffy was on in the background, and it was The Wish episode. Two of my friends loved Buffy (along with myself), but the third friend thought we were nuts for being crazy about a show involving an ass-kicking vampire slayer and her band of merry misfits. The third friend shook her head through the whole episode.

Today I got an email from the third friend entitled: "could Buffy the Vampire be based on reality?" with a link to this study.

Well, first of all, OF COURSE it's based on reality. Vampires, witches, demons, and magic all exist in our universe - maybe not in the traditional sense of the words, but who among us hasn't faced someone who sucked the life out of them, cursed or haunted them in some way? Who hasn't made a wish, crossed their fingers or threw salt over their shoulder, and had the wish come true?

And secondly, what a trippy study. It's like "choose your own adventure" stories just came to life. I like to think about my parallel universe doppleganger who is thrilled with her job and totally content with life. I just wish I could visit her from time to time for some advice!

________________
I do have to admit that while I don't think there are vampires in Santa Cruz who look like Keifer Sutherland or James Marsters (or "dampires" in Sunnyvale, either, though the concept amuses me greatly), I don't completely dismiss the occult. I think there's a lot that I don't understand about it, and I think that as with most things there are some extremists, but I do think there is some merit to certain aspects of it. And the respect for Mother Nature most certainly appeals to me.

Oh and also, the Parkway isn't going to be able to show old episodes of Buffy or Firefly for much longer, so boycott those money-grubbing fun-stealing bastards at FOX however you see fit. They aren't currently syndicating either show so I'm not sure what they're complaining about, exactly.

And I don't mean a roller coaster ride at Six Flags.

So I did see the movie today. I thought it was somewhat sloppy in its direction and the narration got on my nerves (sorry, Sean, please don't punch me in the nose)... But Emile Hirsch was fantastic, and Ed's songs were very heartfelt.

Today more than ever, I'm yearning for a great adventure. The past month has left at least four friends/sets of friends either with a significant life experience under their boots, or one that's coming soon to a hospital delivery room. I'm jealous. Other than vague conversations about worldly travels, I have no concrete milestones, no forward planning to be excited about.

And yeah, the movie ended in tragedy but man, the LIFE that guy experienced in his travels is just inspiring. How empowering it must have felt to survive with almost nothing in our capitalist society, and still be truly content with life. I admit that all along, in the book and the movie, he irritated the crap out of me because he chose to leave white upper class suburbia and live penniless while so many in this world are not born into those circumstances and do not have such a choice. But, he also gave $24,000 to Oxfam and was truly grateful for the support he got along the way, so there was definitely an attitude of selflessness somewhere in there.

I'm not sure I am up for an illegal kayak trip down the Colorado River, or 100 days in Alaska shooting squirrels for dinner, but I am convinced that I was not meant to work at a desk. I was not meant to stay put. When all is said and done, I'm selfish and there is just too much to see and hear and smell and do in the world. I've moved approximately 10 blocks in the past 10 years and the lack of motion is getting to me. I want to experience all that the world has to offer, and I don't want to experience it through a Food Network road trip show or a Barbara Kingsolver book.

But for now, tomorrow I go to my desk job and prepare for my big important meeting and... lather, rinse, repeat... Until one day when I really throw in the towel, cash out my savings and head north, or maybe east, or south. The possibilities are endless... and life is too damn short.

This post brought to you by an upwardly mobile Anglo woman who has such choices. Don't think the irony isn't lost on me.

The Most Important Gift Catalog in the World.

You know, I get a lot of strange magazines and catalogs in my mailbox these days, but I think this one takes the cake.

It's not that I don't support the cause they organize around. In fact, Susan Sarandon supports them, so by default should I. But seriously... why can't they call themselves "an adolescent female of courting age doted with a well proportioned figure" instead of their actual name? Sorry Susan, Ed Asner, Patricia Heaton, Ted Danson, Walter Cronkite, and Malcolm In The Middle's mom - I just can't bring myself to be a "Heifer supporter."

"I guess there's gotta be a break in the monotony..."

"... but Jesus, when it rains, how it pours."

My internal mantra this week has been, "I soooo did not sign up for this." But that's not 100% accurate. I honestly didn't have the slightest idea what I was signing up for when I signed up for it.

Now that I know, I'm coming to terms with a lot of my own insecurities and inadequacies, but I'm also seeing a new side of myself - a side that is confident, humble, tenacious and surprisingly matter-of-fact.

Boy, will I be glad when this baby shower is done with.

(Kidding! This post is about my job. The baby shower is the most welcome break I could possibly have, especially now that super-secret project PCT scrapbook is done. Tonight I'm making party favors instead of working. That's a truly beautiful thing. Attention, dear readers: have more babies and go on more 2600 mile treks so that I can be pleasantly distracted in the future.)

Date searched, initials of search party, # of bodies found, # of animals found.

More to come on my recent visit to New Orleans, but I can't get this part out of my head no matter how hard I try... Maybe that's a good thing.

Belated Friday five.

I'm not sure why I'd never thought of getting a DVD player for long plane rides before this summer, other than the fact that usually the only people who have DVD players instead of laptops to watch movies on planes are 5-year olds watching Dora the Explorer. But earlier this year I learned that a decent DVD player with a 3-hour battery is fairly inexpensive, and a 2.5-hour backup battery is reasonable as well. Much cheaper than a laptop, anyway.

And OH MY GOD did this sucker save my life on the 10-hour 3-flight journey to Puerto Rico in July, so I took it along on my flight to New Orleans so that I could catch up on Netflix. The sound quality of my cheap DVD player is fine, but the earplug quality is not, so the two movies I watched on the flights were foreign with subtitles. It worked out great. (Mind you, I've been on an Oscar nominated foreign film kick lately.)

And with that I bring you five entertainment items that got me through Oakland-New Orleans-Oakland round trip, including avoiding crappy hotel TV Wednesday and Thursday nights, in the approximate order consumed:

• Into the Wild. I ran across this at the airport Tuesday morning, purchased it on a whim, read most of it in about two hours and finished it on the New Orleans-Houston leg this morning. It was especially timely because of my friend who just hiked the PCT, but overall it was really well written, engaging and heartbreaking and I want to read all of his other books immediately. I hope to catch a matinée of the movie next weekend to see how they've destroyed the book. (Just kidding. Sorta. At least Ed Vedder did all the music for the movie.)
  
• After the Wedding. Holy cow. What a fantabulous movie. I don't use that word often, usually only when I'm singing along to Moondance, actually... But the plot was engaging in its innocent but manipulative way, and each and every one of the actors were phenomenal. More Danish movies, please!
  
• The Number 23. Interesting enough while you were watching it, I didn't see the end coming, but otherwise fairly forgettable.
  
• The Lives of Others. Again, holy cow. It's quite a sleeper but it's no wonder that it won an Oscar. The extras are also worth watching, even if you're not stuck on a plane trying to kill yet another hour - they talk about the great attention the writers and directors paid to ensure authenticity. I always appreciate extra effort to detail and this movie is not at all lacking in that arena.
  
• Sky Mall. I've sung its praises before, and I'll do it again. Really, now, who amongst us hasn't yearned for a radio rodent or adult footie pajamas or a wireless backup camera? The list goes on and on.
  

New Orleans photos and food reviews coming soon. Well, soonish.

A rare but important product endorsement.

It's not often that I recommend a product on this blog. It's also not often that I buy anything from Sur La Table. It's certainly not often that I publicly admit a flaw in my living situation.

But a few weeks ago I was on Fourth Street, mainly to visit my reptile friends at the East Bay Vivarium. I'd had too much coffee and needed a bathroom, and Sur La Table is usually the cleanest one to be found. So I pretended to shop for a few minutes, then hit the loo, and then pretended to shop for a few more minutes, and I ran across this.

It was less than $5. After countless smelly Stick Ups and spraying smelly Lysol under my kitchen sink where I keep the trash bin, I was out of ideas to remove the odor. (Yeah, I have a smelly kitchen sink underbelly - I said it.) So I figured hey, it's less than $5, it's worth a shot.

One day later and the odor was noticeably gone. Three weeks later, it's still gone. So if you've got a smelly place in your abode, I recommend picking on of these guys up. They even have loops so you can hang them in your fridge without taking up too much space.

Who knew, all I needed was a little charcoal. Science is cool.

In the words of Homer J. Simpson, "It's too bright!"

I mean that figuratively, for the most part.

Not to harp on this, but I walked there tonight in search of some fairly basic items. There was no pre-shredded mozzarella cheese,* there were no yellow bananas, there were no olives stuffed with blue cheese.

Too bad I wasn't in search of a high-end sandwich named after an area of Oakland famous for its taco trucks - if that had been the case I would've made out like a bandit. Guess I'll be sticking with good old reliable Piedmont Grocery from now on.

But back to the "bright," they really must do something about the blinding sun that streams through the windows in the evening. It's such an annoying customer experience...

Unless they did it on purpose so that you couldn't see how much your items were costing on the cashier screens. "WHAT?! Ninety-five dollars? But I only bought four items!" Say what you like about their prices compared to Andronico's - it's still Whole Paycheck to me.

________________
* Apparently pre-shredded mozzarella cheese is a sin in an artisan cheese shop such as theirs. Before the cheeseheads start calling me Rachel Ray, I should clarify. I don't end up with as much cheese when I buy the pre-shredded packages, which is the end result I was looking for tonight since I'm going out of town in a few days and just wanted enough for tonight.

One day I will have things other than TV to bitch about.

But in the meantime, I really don't know how I feel about Jim and Pam dating. I mean, the Angela/Dwight thing is awkward and amusing. The Michael/Jan thing is like watching a train wreck (therefore, slightly entertaining but mostly nauseating). The Kelly/Ryan thing is why I will never date a coworker ever again.

But all that is good entertainment. Jim and Pam were always all about innocence and hope and optimism, and now they're together and the only possible thing in their future is doom and gloom. Sure, it will be fun for a few weeks or months, but eventually? Doom and gloom.

Also, I am very disappointed with the Top Chef choice. Padma and Tom should be ashamed of themselves. So should CJ and Casey and Tre and Sara.

And why is Comcast moving the TV Guide Channel to hi-def? Is that really necessary? Has Comcast ever actually WATCHED the TV Guide Channel? Are we really moving to a phase where TVs will all require hi-def settings for any cable channels? If so, I'll need to start saving for a replacement for my 1998 19" beauty.

Hmm... I smell plasma!

I smell high maintenance!

OK. Nothing really came of my last effort at online dating - and by that I mean MY LAST EFFORT AT ONLINE DATING. Nothing, except for one guy who I corresponded with twice and since then, he has sent me five follow up emails reminding me of his existence.

It doesn't help that all those emails go to an address I don't remember to monitor regularly, and it doesn't help that I've been monumentally busy lately, and it doesn't help that this is the last thing I want to get involved with at the moment.

But seriously? When motorcycle boy didn't write back, I let it go. When indie music boy didn't write back, I let it go. When teacher boy didn't write back, I let it go. It's the nature of online dating.

Attention, single dad: LET. IT. GO.

(OK, I'll be nice and send him a "let it go" email. But seriously.)

Celebreality.

Oh, sigh. Sigh. SIGH.

See? Gene Simmons gets it. Even crazy Mariah Carey gets it. The rest of the world - WTF?

Public service announcement (bordering on an advertisement).

I realize we are in the digital age, man, where CDs are, like, all obsolete and shit.

But if you're like me, you have a bunch of CDs you have no need for anymore because of said digital age, and you're craving all those CDs you sold in college (or lost in breakups) and never repurchased, and spending $10 on iTunes isn't really that appealing.

If you're more like me, you tried to condense your CD stash by pulling them all out of their cases (keeping the front cover art) and donating the cases to random art projects via Craig's List. So what was once a 5-bookshelf collection is now a 7"x7"x24" collection.

And if you're even more like me, you have a 7"x7"x24" collection of CDs taking up space but you don't want to throw them away because they're not recyclable, and you can't take them to Amoeba because they wouldn't want it in the first place. In fact they would probably laugh at you for bringing it in. ("The Bee Gees Greatest Hits. Uh... no thanks." Clearly they haven't read this post.)

So. If you are like me, you should sign up for this cool new CD trading service. It's super easy - it uploads all the music you have stored on your computer, you add any others not stored on your computer and indicate which CDs you want to keep (for me, it's all my grunge, anything sentimental and anything I bought digitally that I can't legally trade), you browse others' CDs to add to your own want list, the company sends you shipping materials and you pay a mere $1.75 when someone ships you something from your want list. And you ship your crap you don't want anymore to people who want your crap. And they pay a mere $1.75 to receive it.

It's quite ingenious. It's almost like the eBay of CD recycling. Over the past month I've managed to get rid of things like The Jayhawks, Lucinda Williams (don't tell Kim), Cake, and a lot of stuff I bought secondhand in the first place and didn't end up liking. Of course, I kept a burned copy in case I change my mind in six months and want to listen to all that stuff.

In return I've completed my Too Much Joy and Dead Milkmen collections, built up my Beatles and Run DMC collections and recovered a copy of the DGC Rarities that I loved in 1994. (I had tape versions of all of those, but seriously, TAPES? That's like, soooo 19th century, man.)

And today the standard company CD case (ironically for a Dead Milkmen CD) included a hand-written political message, "Vote Ron Paul for President, 2008" (no hyperlink because I cannot in good conscious support that), which of course inspired me to start writing "Stewart/Colbert 2008" on all the CD cases I send out.

So here's the true public service announcement, brought to you by the Dead Milkmen:

The man said "Keep your head and arms inside the mixer at all times." But Bill Jr., he was a daredevil, just like his old man. He was leaning out saying, "Hey everybody! Look at me, look at me!" POW! He was decapitated. They found his head over by the snowcone concession.

"Curse you, Whole Paycheck!"

In case you live in a cave, the new Whole Foods opened this morning.

I'm not sure Oaktown is ready for all this patchouli, bulk granola, soy cheese, bring-your-own-bag, $12/pound salad bar hipster nonsense (newfound or natural). Or ready for, as the article states, "the progressive, food-sophisticated, dynamic and diverse culture of Oakland and the surrounding communities."

Now, don't get me wrong. I've been as excited about this, as I have been for the two new Trader Joe's (Trader Joes's? Trader Ji?) to open near my apartment. Being able to walk there for lunch, or to shop after work, do ONE LOOP in the grocery store and catch the bus home with my millions of dollars of fancy schmancy grocery items, is very appealing.

But seriously? It took me 10 extra minutes in my lousy 10-minute commute to get home this evening due to all the commotion and traffic. The people sitting in the cafe got an amusing view of me literally shaking my fist at the store while screaming the subject line of this post as I drove by...

I suppose the joke will be on me tomorrow when I stop for coffee (and the obligatory perusal) before heading into the office!