On my way to work I passed a van with ambitions of being an RV parked on the street. Standing next to the open side door of the van was a man getting ready for the day, pretty much using the sidewalk as his dressing room.
Man: (good-naturedly) Hey, watch out for my slippers.
Me: (smiling, with a slight chuckle) OK.
Man: (suddenly angry) HEY! Are you laughing AT me or WITH me?
Me: (now walking more quickly) WITH!
He might have said something more but I made sure I was well out of range before he could provide any further entertainment.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Playing house
This past Sunday we moved into our new place! And by moved, I mean we took one-and-a-half carloads of our clothes, shoes and toiletries, a toaster oven and a coffee maker to our new place.
My furniture and other miscellaneous belongings won't arrive from DC until late September so we'll be doing some version of urban camping until then. Until we finally borrowed an air mattress we were sleeping on our therma-rests on the floor. I've seen homeless people with more home furnishings than we have right now.
But we are resourceful! Courtesy of the craigslist "Free" section, which usually only offers things like a complete set of Playgirl magazines or free dirt (if you come pick it up) I was able to billy-goat us a folding table, rug, recliner from the early 70s and rickety wooden chairs from long before that. This was real progress.
I think it is probably still a bit premature to be planning a housewarming party but for now I am very happy with our camp site, I mean living room.
My furniture and other miscellaneous belongings won't arrive from DC until late September so we'll be doing some version of urban camping until then. Until we finally borrowed an air mattress we were sleeping on our therma-rests on the floor. I've seen homeless people with more home furnishings than we have right now.
But we are resourceful! Courtesy of the craigslist "Free" section, which usually only offers things like a complete set of Playgirl magazines or free dirt (if you come pick it up) I was able to billy-goat us a folding table, rug, recliner from the early 70s and rickety wooden chairs from long before that. This was real progress.
I think it is probably still a bit premature to be planning a housewarming party but for now I am very happy with our camp site, I mean living room.
Monday, August 18, 2008
And down the stretch they come!
This past Saturday we celebated my 30th birthday some more by going to the racetrack and betting on the ponies.
Shark tattoos and pony stickers firmly affixed to our persons, Yana, Eric and I headed down to the San Mateo County Fair noonish on Saturday to check out the racing, the music and the carnival. Included in the fair admission was entry to the hallowed Bay Meadows racetrack, which is co-located with the fairgrounds. Or was: Saturday was the second to last ("penultimate" as fancy people say) day of racing there and they closed it down yesterday after over 75 years of wild-eyed gamblers yelling and desperately slapping their hands with their programs willing their horse to come across the line first.
I can now personally speak to one day of the racetrack's storied existence and one of those wild-eyed gamblers: Eric picked the winner every time, but may have caused permanent damage to his vocal chords and hands in the process.
The fact that he has an addiction-prone personality is not good news.*
We each won at least one bet and had a great time at the track in spite of the range of human and animal smells that we discovered there. It was especially fun "expertly" commentating the pre-race and race events, like we do when watching the Olympics. (What's more fun than haughtily criticizing near perfection?) Anyone who overheard our authoritative discussion of the horses' muscle tone, disposition, post position, and jockeys' abilities would surely have thought we were experts, unless they had any idea about horseracing whatsoever in which case they probably just had a good laugh.
As Eric and Yana will wearily tell you, I invoked my birthday privilege to the fullest at the fair: we rode the rickety roller coaster against their better judgment, ate ice cream and caramel apples and popcorn, and played rigged carnival game after rigged carnival game until someone finally won.
It's good to be 30!
*Unless his newfound conviction that he simply cannot lose is in fact true, in which case I'm looking forward to an early retirement.
Shark tattoos and pony stickers firmly affixed to our persons, Yana, Eric and I headed down to the San Mateo County Fair noonish on Saturday to check out the racing, the music and the carnival. Included in the fair admission was entry to the hallowed Bay Meadows racetrack, which is co-located with the fairgrounds. Or was: Saturday was the second to last ("penultimate" as fancy people say) day of racing there and they closed it down yesterday after over 75 years of wild-eyed gamblers yelling and desperately slapping their hands with their programs willing their horse to come across the line first.
I can now personally speak to one day of the racetrack's storied existence and one of those wild-eyed gamblers: Eric picked the winner every time, but may have caused permanent damage to his vocal chords and hands in the process.
The fact that he has an addiction-prone personality is not good news.*
We each won at least one bet and had a great time at the track in spite of the range of human and animal smells that we discovered there. It was especially fun "expertly" commentating the pre-race and race events, like we do when watching the Olympics. (What's more fun than haughtily criticizing near perfection?) Anyone who overheard our authoritative discussion of the horses' muscle tone, disposition, post position, and jockeys' abilities would surely have thought we were experts, unless they had any idea about horseracing whatsoever in which case they probably just had a good laugh.
As Eric and Yana will wearily tell you, I invoked my birthday privilege to the fullest at the fair: we rode the rickety roller coaster against their better judgment, ate ice cream and caramel apples and popcorn, and played rigged carnival game after rigged carnival game until someone finally won.
It's good to be 30!
*Unless his newfound conviction that he simply cannot lose is in fact true, in which case I'm looking forward to an early retirement.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Please Make Way For The Interceptor
Where was I between midnight and 12:30am last night, you ask?
I'll tell you where I was: making loops around SFO Interational Airport trying to locate a small exotic-looking woman who is my friend Yana.
Her flight was supposed to arrive at 8:25pm but Virgin America and the God Of Lightning and Heavy Rain had other plans. After spending nearly four hours on the tarmac (or "fairway" as she charmingly called it this morning at breakfast) they finally decided it was safe to make their way over to this coast.
I'd like to preface my next statement with a firm avowal of my commitment to doing everything possible to keep our nation safe from the evildoers. That said, I have never been so provoked toward evildoerdom as I was last night the fourth time I was getting barked at by a ferocious woman in an Interceptor to circle the airport again because 25 seconds is too long to be paused in front of the door from which my friend will be emerging within moments. If there ever is an incident of destruction and violence in an airport arrivals area, I feel certain it will have been caused, rather than prevented, by one of these rabid dogs in an Interceptor.
As I pull away, I call Yana for the fourth time to say I'll be right around. She tells me she has now made her way out the door and is standing on the sidewalk.
"What airline sign are you standing at?" I ask.
"It says Door 2. I don't see any airline signs."
This is troubling to me, because the arrival area has more airline signs than San Francisco has self-righteous homeless vegans.
"Um, I almost don't want to ask but what airport are you at?" I cringe in anticipation of her reply.
"I think SFO but....uh...let me check my ticket. [dramatic pause] Yeah, SFO."
Sweet relief.
"Well you're clearly not in domestic arrivals. Is there any chance that New York flights are now coming into the international terminal?"
And there I found her: at Door 2 of the International Arrivals neighborhood of the airport.
"It's cold here."
Yes. Yes it is.
I'll tell you where I was: making loops around SFO Interational Airport trying to locate a small exotic-looking woman who is my friend Yana.
Her flight was supposed to arrive at 8:25pm but Virgin America and the God Of Lightning and Heavy Rain had other plans. After spending nearly four hours on the tarmac (or "fairway" as she charmingly called it this morning at breakfast) they finally decided it was safe to make their way over to this coast.
I'd like to preface my next statement with a firm avowal of my commitment to doing everything possible to keep our nation safe from the evildoers. That said, I have never been so provoked toward evildoerdom as I was last night the fourth time I was getting barked at by a ferocious woman in an Interceptor to circle the airport again because 25 seconds is too long to be paused in front of the door from which my friend will be emerging within moments. If there ever is an incident of destruction and violence in an airport arrivals area, I feel certain it will have been caused, rather than prevented, by one of these rabid dogs in an Interceptor.
As I pull away, I call Yana for the fourth time to say I'll be right around. She tells me she has now made her way out the door and is standing on the sidewalk.
"What airline sign are you standing at?" I ask.
"It says Door 2. I don't see any airline signs."
This is troubling to me, because the arrival area has more airline signs than San Francisco has self-righteous homeless vegans.
"Um, I almost don't want to ask but what airport are you at?" I cringe in anticipation of her reply.
"I think SFO but....uh...let me check my ticket. [dramatic pause] Yeah, SFO."
Sweet relief.
"Well you're clearly not in domestic arrivals. Is there any chance that New York flights are now coming into the international terminal?"
And there I found her: at Door 2 of the International Arrivals neighborhood of the airport.
"It's cold here."
Yes. Yes it is.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
My heavens!
I thought it would be fun to see what the horoscopes had to say for me on my birthday yesterday.
"The moon in earthy Capricorn brings a dose of realism to today's efforts. It just feels right to follow our urge toward accomplishing something of tangible importance, even at the cost of more fun, lively sociable summertime events."
"The upcoming year is characterized by a renewed focus on work. Work hard, and there is the potential for great reward."
"Be prepared to put the fun on hold this year, in order to reap the rewards of your hard work in the years to come."
"Mercury conjunct Saturn and in harmonious contact to Pluto indicates that you can bring great discipline and meaning to mental work of any kind. This is a time when dedication and commitment to your goals runs high. As far as mental output goes, you are more productive in a reliable and consistent way."
I guess they're all looking at the same stars.
All right! I'll get to work already!
**Emphasis added.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
It's a multi-game console
It's a multi-game console. Vintage circa 1983, if I had to guess.
I think "multi" means it has both Pac Man and Ms. Pac Man.
Someone* taped a piece of paper on the wall next to it to record high scores, probably because the machine doesn't have the capability to do that. I think my coffee-maker has more computing power. Not to mention better graphics.
I'm not sure yet if I am going to spurn it or embrace it.
*I think it is worth clarifying that my current office arrangement is a sort of office hotelling deal where my little startup rents out a single office on a floor of individually rented offices. So there are people around and we all share a kitchen, and a multi-game console, but I really couldn't tell you what their deal is, other than that they are apparently tracking their Pac Man performance quite diligently.
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