poshlusty

Mozart and Algernon

2006-04-09T21:50:00.000-07:00

That's right, I'm a fucking idiot for shelling out five G's so my eye doctor can get richer. I just found out that my world class eye surgeon, who's been shamelessly flirting with me (he called me "Cat Woman" one time when I came in in an all-black outfit and he makes frequent references to the fact that I go clubbing [which, incidentally, I rarely do]) makes a shitload of money.

It was in an old Chronicle article about top-paid academics, and he was #4 for medical professors and #1 for opthamologists, coming in at $2.1M several years ago. I reacted to this information with surprise and my competitive side took over. Three, four, five million a year - Whatever! I could make way more than that if I really wanted to. Chump change!

My right eye, which is 3.5 weeks out of surgery, is actually seeing slightly worse than my left eye, which is only 1.5 weeks out. My left eye is a fucking prodigy! I am therefore naming it Mozart, while my other eye, Algernon, is stuck in special ed.

What's funny is sometimes I forget if I put my drops in or not, so, as my co-worker joked, maybe I'm putting them in like 10 times a day when I should only be doing it 4x. Ha! And you know what else: while I still see blurry, it's a million times better than my previous vision, so I almost don't notice that I am seeing blurry. I was a -7.5 and -7.25. Yeah, I know.

Saturday was gorgeous! Absolutely gorgeous. A welcome respite from the steady downpour we've been having lately (not that I minded; I do truly love the rain). It was a day like the one pictured above, which was taken almost a year ago. Went trail running, shooting, driving around in the hills at warp speed, and played a couple songs at a pizza joint in Fremont with this bluegrass band that's adopted me. To quote a wise saying: When in doubt, be grateful.

Another one from Rounders: If you can't figure out who's the sucker at the poker table after 30 minutes, you're the sucker.

Weak Tot Action

2006-03-31T15:49:00.000-08:00

"REJECTED! Don't you Bring that Weak Tot Action! You go Strong to your mouth, or you Don't Go At All!"

God I love that Sonic commercial. I went from being ignorant of whether March Madness was College or Pro to being the leader of the pack in my office pool. I went from "whaaaa?" to screaming at my television thinking that that would help the score. The guys are so pissed at me. I am going to have a heart attack tomorrow when I watch the Final Four duke it out in Indianapolis. All can say is that I knew my LSU boys would do me proud, and no matter what happens tomorrow, I am happy with my respectable showing as a newbie. At the very least, I will finish 4th or 5th out of 20. That's not too shabby.

So a lot has happened. For one, M.K. let me drive his monster truck. Yeeeaahhh!!!! It's a manul but with a really smooth clutch. Even a retard like me was able to swing it around the block a couple times and it was like butta!

I got my second eye done at Stanford Hospital after much apprehension. My right eye had been healing up rather slowly and I thought the prudent thing to do would be to wait it out, one eye at a time. But it got very tiresome to have to take my glasses on and off and squint out of one eye or another, and I took the plunge for the second time yesterday.

I've got my fingers crossed and I'm nursing my eyes best I can. I have to say that doing your eyes is like having kids. With the first one, I was uber careful, super paranoid. This time, I'm like, "Whatever! Piece of cake!" I did have a couple funny close calls - lobbed a glob of heavy lotion into my right eye about a week after it was done. Was very fortunate that it didn't sting much and i was able to wipe it off. Exercise (or lack thereof) became a big deal. I was climbing the walls. I tried walking fo rmiles and miles, hiking, lifting weights, and obsessing about my eyes, with all my spare energy.

Alright. I better get off the computer. Gotta take it easy now, you know?

B-Ball and Eyeballs

2006-03-17T11:50:00.000-08:00

This whole B-Ball thing is a marked change from the old sports-eschewing me... I used to be pretty opinionated about being anti-sports, mainly because it was useless big-budget entertainment that was pointedly sexist (womens' sports generates nowhere near as much revenue and publicity as mens'). It is amazing that I have changed into somewhat of a sports fan, from my previous anti-establishment leanings. I guess I'll just chalk it up to learning about new things and not being so hippie-bohemian anymore. And some of those basketball dudes are pretty cute. Freakishly tall, but cute. Yummy younger guys!

This is my first dispatch from a post-laser eye surgery day. After having visited countless doctors and read millions of scholarly abstracts about the procedure, and after conducted a research program with the meticulousness of a crime detective, I went in for the surgery yesterday and was treated to a spellbinding, hypnotic laser show in one eye. It was meditative and required an immense amount of concentration to focus on the laser's red light. I am happy to report that I am doing OK and have not tapped into my Vicodin/Valium stores yet, although I know that they are a portent of pain to come.

Allright, b-ball and post-surgery are a great combo. Cheers!

Brackets

2006-03-16T10:10:00.000-08:00

Announcement to all: my tool-ish iPod is no longer nekkid. I scored a pink silicone case yesterday at the mall from a guy in a kiosk selling them at less than half price what you'd normally pay for them. He was Israeli and since I've spent a little time there, we reminisced about the Old Country with tears in our eyes. And he gave me a little discount. I will miss my gleaming white pebble but the jelly case sure is fun to hold ... and it's bright pink!

So I filled out my brackets yesterday, knowing nothing about basketball. The guys at the office were all talking about theirs and I figured I ought to participate since I've been inducted as an "honorary member" of the guys' club. There wasn't enough time to research team mascots, colors, or hottest players, so I just went with the teams in states where I've resided or have some spiritual connection to. This meant that Southern beat Duke in first round, Monmouth beat Villanova, and Davidson beat Ohio State.

Since I didn't have access to the shared U:\ drive in which we are storing our March Madness database (yes, someone programmed a database to keep track of our bets) I walked over to Ben's side of the office, sheepishly clutching my brackets sheet. Ben intercepted me and called me out on my picks. Although I was embarrassed, it was a stroke of fortune that he disabused me of the notion that Southern might actually stand a chance at beating Duke, etc. etc. "I hate Duke too, but ... it's your money, you know?" True, true. I changed my bets accordingly, but stuck with my final pick: LSU beats UConn in the champeenship.

Hey, why not???

Manhattan Beach

2006-03-12T21:42:00.000-08:00

I can't believe that my old employer, Knight Ridder, has just been sold to media lightweight the McClatchy Company. Wow. Now they're thinking of combining some of the dailies in close-lying metropolitan areas. I should've seen it coming. During my time there, they were lowering our per-mile mileage reimbursements and telling us to turn off office lights whenever possible to save energy. Still, it comes as a shock to me, but I can kind of understand why they wanted to keep their business "in the business" and out of corporatemongering hands, so to speak.

In other news, I saw my dear old friend S. in Manhattan Beach this weekend, where, by random coincidence, her fiance was both celebrating her birthday and proposing to her. N. and I also got to see her adorable 5-month-old A., who is a very, very, very big baby boy. He let me hold him for quite a while, but as soon as he was transferred back to his dad's hands, some white milky fluid dribbled out of his mouth. It was similar to the white fluid that came out of the mouth of those people who got impregnated by aliens in Aliens. S. and her now-fiance J. are such warm, caring and fun people. It is truly good for high-strung people like me to get some perspective on how life can sometimes turn out well even when you don't intend for it to do so. *wink*

We also checked out LACMA's 40th anniversary exhibit. It was my first time at the LACMA. I had no idea there were active excavations and "ancient" tar pits in downtown L.A.! The artwork was nothing to write home about, with the usual suspects of Motherwell, Picasso, Calder, Renoir, etc. etc., but the Ettore Sottsass retrospective was particularly arresting. This guy created the most fucked-up furniture, clearly from decades of mainlining crack. It's worth looking at for a good laugh. Also the weather in L.A. was absolutely icelandic. I was wearing my Thinsulate 3/4-length wool coat and just barely squeaking by.

You Snooze, You Use

2006-03-08T13:06:00.000-08:00

Wow, I'm on my way to sleeping pill addiction ... but I haven't felt this good in years! Getting about 6-8 solid hours of sleep a night, every night, waking up a little groggy but refreshed within 15 minutes. I've been missing out! My normally bitchy and morose temperament has improved drastically (now I'm just contemptuous) and I feel so good. Never knew (but definitely guessed at) how much sleep can improve one's state of mind. Now I've just gotta figure out how to get sleep without becoming a user.

By the way, Rachel, you'll love Herman, the giant bunny. He was featured on the BBC. I love his feetsies and toesies!

Of course some people would look at him and see several nice dinners and stews.

Here's a random list of crap that I found in my car as I was cleaning it out:

(1) An Army MRE (meal-ready-to-eat) from the Red Cross volunteer effort I joined in New Orleans. Chicken with Salsa Flavor #7, it has a chemical heating pad. Miniature tabasco sauce and hot chocolate mix. Cool!!! It's for if my engine breaks down and I'm at the side of the road needing to eat something. That's also why I have my big-ass Mag-Lite in the glovie.
(2) A Business Week magazine with a big picture of a new apple-green Paul Reed Smith hollow-body electric guitar on the cover.
(3) Gun shooting goggles
(4) Old boxing gloves from the hole-in-the-wall G&S store on Delancey Street in New York.
(5) A baby toy in the shape of a fish rattle for my cousin's baby that I haven't delivered yet.
(6) A bunch of water bottles, some empty and some full.
(7) Old beaten up football
(8) Altoids sour apple gum
(9) Switchblade and non-switchblade knives
(10) Enough shoes and sandals to outfit a family of Asian people.
(11) Swimsuit, goggles, paddles, and gym card.
(12) Some old tools and an old jumper cable that no longer works.
(13) Anti-bacterial hand sanitizer
(14) Two blankets for emergencies and hiding valuables.
(15) A bra (mine) and clean socks.
(16) Last year’s Burning Man tickets and dead glowy bracelets from that event.
(17) A block of Mrs. Palmers Cool Water surf wax from Australia and a 2005 Tide Book for Santa Cruz.

And no, I have a small, baby-size Civic Coupe.

Banana Slug turns 2000!

2006-03-05T18:10:00.000-08:00

I finally broke down and took the Banana Slug out for a spin yesterday and did some drills in the West Valley College parking lot. I tried making the tightest figure 8's possible, and had limited luck, but I did succeed in scaring off families walking their dogs and some kid riding his bike around the parking lot. (see still shot below)

I passed the 2000-mile mark on the odometer as I was riding up Highway 9. How befitting! The road was damp and the weather was chilly, but the biggest surprise was seeing snow peppering the steep banks of the road, then collecting by the side in dirty slushy clumps! People had brought their kids up there to play in the snow, and were making snowpeople. I did the requisite pullover at the lookout that I like with the glorious pine-trees-valley view, and kicked at some of the slush with my Doc Martens. I'll miss riding the Banana Slug over the next couple weeks, as I will be otherwise indisposed.

So I watched Prozac Nation last night and joined the tens of millions of Americans who put this DVD on, watched ten minutes of it, and raised their hands in the air, shouting, "Oh My God, This Is My Life, Down To The Littlest Details!!!"

Oh, I'm sorry, I thought everyone grew up this way! Anyway, it was amazing how closely Christinia Ricci's screen life matched mine, from the fact that her parents divorced when she was two, and her mom and dad were always fighting, and guilt-tripping her over who loved her more and who paid for more ... and how her mom was depressed at the time of the divorce and Christina's presence served to "save her," and as a result she lived vicariously through her daughter and her daughter was her "everything" ... something that Christina didn't quite like. It was amazing how Christina turned out to be demanding, angry, insecure, eager to please, perfectionistic and crazy during her first year at school. She had an anti-boys, fear-of-rejection phase, then when she finally decided to trust guys, she became a clingy, jealous, "nightmare girlfriend" and scared away her boyfriend.

Eerie. It was as though someone unscrewed my head, poked through the contents, fished out the good stuff, mixed it up and poured it across a movie screen.

Cocaine Mouth

2006-03-03T18:57:00.000-08:00

I'm on my "musical chairs" experiment to see if I can cure my insomnia. After meeting some alternative healing nuts at the "I am one with the Spirit" raw-foods Cafe Gratitude in the Sunset, I decided to re-start my latest round of the Insomnia Challenge. I went to Whole Foods last weekend and armed myself with lavender augustifolia essential oil, melatonin (1 mg orange-flavored sublingual), and got lunesta from my doctor on Monday.

Here are the results:

(1) Massive amounts of exercise - No dice, never a sure thing. I either end up conked out or, more likely, completely exhausted physically but unable to sleep.
(2) Ambien - Works well the first time, but not the second night. Space them out. Also, it doesn't work if you really are worried about something.
(3) Clonazepam (a hypnotic) - Works well the first time, &tc. Once I had a really bad reaction the next day and woke up nauseous and had to throw up a couple times. But most of the time, this one knocks me out. I just can't take any one of these medications in a row.
(4) Valerian root herbal supplement or tea bags - Makes you feel spaced out and groggy, but not much more
(5) Warm milk - Hit or miss. Sometimes the sugars in it will keep you up. Also it's extra calories I don't really want to be consuming at the end of the day.
(6) Reading a good book - Only works if I am very sleepy. Otherwise I keep on processing the plot or the ideas.
(7) Reading a boring textbook - Doesn't work. I'm too lazy and reach for a "good book."
(8) Listening to hypnotic storytelling CD's - Sometimes it lulls me to sleep, but often, I just lie there with the CD on infinite repeat, and before I know it, I've heard the story eight times.
(9) Watching television - Big No-go. I may get sleepy but I don't fall asleep.
(10) Tylenol PM - Wakes me the hell up. Stay far away!
(11) Nyquil, even when I don't have a cold - Somewhat effectual, but it sure takes a lot of motivation to down that nasty-ass shit!
(12) Alcohol - No, it usually makes it harder for me to fall asleep. I get drowsy but my mind is still racing. Bad idea. I usually drink knowing that I ain't sleepin'.
(13) Lavender essential oil - Ineffectual. Wakes me up, if anything. I hate odorous things anyway. Smells like bad perfume. Can't believe I threw my money away there.
(14) Melatonin - Well, I gave it one try and felt relaxed, but not sleepy. I'll try it again soon.
(15) Lunesta - Seemed to work pretty well, but it gives you cocaine mouth - dry, bitter, yucky, medicine-y taste on the roof of your mouth and your tongue, making you want to gag. Yuck! But effectual. And somewhat less habit forming, or so they say.

There was an article in the Times Select about how women in marriages where the guy either earns 2/3 of the cash, or all of the cash, rate their happiness in their marriages highest. I don't think it's because those bastards are shining angels from paradise. I think it's because women whose income more closely matches their husbands are more likely to be competitive type-A people, which demanding personalities that aren't likely to be easily satisfied. That's how they got to where they are: by working hard and accepting nothing but the best. They are therefore not going to be chomping at the bit to proclaim their fucktard husbands God! Not to say that women who earn less are more laid back, but I think they probably think they can't complain that much if they're being provided for. And they like the idea of being provided for, because it creates some kind of mutual nurturing between them and their husbands. Whatever, that's just my 2pence.

Just for the record, I am in no way endorsing Times Select. I think those fuckers lost a lot of readers when they went "Select" and I sponged my login and password off of other poor saps. In fact, I think the whole world should protest by all using just one password, and have each person contribute $0.000000000000000000 ... 0000000000001 cents for their share of the subscription. Oh yeah? Take THAT, New York Times Select!!!

Redwings Bust

2006-02-28T22:52:00.000-08:00

Just got back from the Redwings @ Sharks game, where the Redwings lost 1-5. They had a shitload of their top players taking an extra day off from their Olympic tour.

About 16 of us from work went, and poor Ben, who had arrived with three of his friends, all of whom were decked out in full Redwings jerseys and regalia, was practically in tears! I wasn't so much disappointed as pissed off, though I was definitely rooting for the Wings. Can't these fuckers even tie their fucking shoelaces without their Swedish star teammates babysitting them?

Real bummer, I paid 27 bones to see some of the shittiest hockey. Amazingly the Sharks had it together. But there was a lot of fighting and headlocks, so it was still worth it. My high school friend RM was a Redwings postergirl and sort of inspired me to root for them. *sigh*

Judged a round at my little sister's NFL tournament Sunday. No, that's National Forensic League. Debate. But she does the much lamer "Lincoln Douglas" style debate. I did Policy (also called Team) debate. I loved debate so much during high school; it was wonderful coming back to judge. The Aff team dropped a few critical arguments in their rebuttals, and it pained me to vote Neg, because the Aff was clearly a way better team. *sigh* again. But I did run into JD, whom I debated once with my debate partner RL, and I hadn't seen him since the Santa Clara University tournament many years ago. Also, one of the teams that I judged knew my debate partner RL and some other people associated with my high school debate team. What a small world! And the Lynbrook high school coach looked the same as always, just older.

My favorite part of judging is being able to wear ripped jeans and flip-flops and maintain my stoic, impartial countenance while the teams falteringly debate each other. It's a powerful position to be in and it's just fun to be so relaxed and act blase about it while the high school debaters are sweating bullets in their suits, ties, skirts and heels. I remember paying those dues long ago and it's nice to be on the other end of it.

I loved how you could adopt a "what the fuck are they talking about" attitude during cross-examination, as you belittled the opposing team's bullshit arguments and came up with a crazy line of questioning that made them sound like idiots. I loved looking through the other team's evidence while they were speaking and pointing out fallacies and general bullshit during the next speech.

Bantering offhandedly about two nuclear wars outweighing the impacts of localized genocide may seem sick, but I overlooked that because strategizing about which arguments to run and how to "turn" them was fun. You can even come up with alternative voting paradigms and try to sell that to the judge. Then the debate becomes highly philosophical, evoking the likes of Kant and Machiavelli, and Edward Said ... through some feminist authors in there too. If the judge agrees with your paradigm, it's more than likely that s/he will vote for you too. It's a very tactical activity.

But what I loved most about Policy Debate is that it was the only Speech & Debate event where it often didn't matter what you wore or what you looked like, and you didn't even have to have good presentational skills. You could stutter up a storm, but as long as you were somewhat intelligible and made better arguments than the other team, you won. I liked Team Debate (or Oxford, as it was often called) because it was almost anti-presentation, anti-looks, anti-fluff, anti-stlye, all about substance.

Which is probably why I quit the swim team to focus on the debate team. It doesn't get any nerdier than that!

Smokey the Bear goes Equestrian

2006-02-25T22:20:00.000-08:00

So I took this online personality test today and it appears that I am a Leader of Potheads. Too bad pot makes me nauseous and vomity. Why can't I be a Cokehead Leader, or an Ecstasy Queen? I'd be really good at that!

Sorry to bring up the Olympics again, because I know you're sick of hearing about it, but I saw the bobsledding today and couldn't resist - those guys wear motorcycle helmets. You know what that means... I'm just one Spiderman-suit away from being a walk-on!

God I fucking hate work-related extracurricular events. This guy at work hosted a ribs dinner at his place on Friday. Don't get me wrong. I like ribs, and I really like J. He's ex-Naval Academy, we discuss action sports, car racing, weaponry, artillery, and military aircraft, the whole deal. But I don't fucking want to do anything outside of work with the other fucks at work. Cause I fucking hate work-related events. Especially because I hadn't exercised all week (due to work, no less) and felt like a fat blob; I wanted to go for a run or lift instead. But J. broke me down, I went (a) because he kept on badgering me about it, and (b) because I'm trying to win brownie points with the office so they don't fire my ass.

But I ended up having a grand time playing with J.'s girlfriend's sister's baby, who is only 9 months old but practically walking and very active and sociable. Little J. was so adorable, she took a nice long catnap on my lap, and snored and even had sleepy twitches. She struck me as completely different from my cousin's baby, who is almost a year old but remains surgically attached to her mom and isn't hardly walking yet. We watched Full Metal Jacket. "Private Pyle, you are a disgusting Fatbody!" And need I mention that the wine-marinaded ribs were fantastic? We even had Gewurztraminer, my favorite wine!

I went trail running today again at Castle Rock and met Cody the Forest Ranger horse. The ranger told me that they keep horses down at Bernal Road where the gun club is, and they trailer them out to all the parks and have them march in parades. Cody is a compact little quarter horse with a white blaze on his forehead and a beautiful bay gloss to his coat, which belies his 16 years. It was calming to pet him.

Old friends/New boyfriends

2006-02-20T23:52:00.000-08:00

I may have to dump my boyfriend, Bode Miller, for France's very hot Fabian Bourzat, with his glorious chestnut curls and soulful baby face. But Fabian loses big points for (a) being named Fabian, and (b) being an ice dancer. Think about it: one of the most important tricks he does on the ice is called a "Twizzle." What the fuck?

Can I just interject here that I'm more than happy to take a pass on a number of the sports I have seen televised. Namely: ski jumping. aerial ski acrobatics. figure skating. You can fill in the blanks where I've missed some "crazy sports." Flying through the air like a projectile, bobbling and swerving, attempting to land on either: (a) hard-packed snow or (b) shiny, gleaming hard ice. Big pass. Skeleton seems kind of interesting, and it sounds bad-ass, and the skills required seem somewhat more entry-level, compared to doing insanely coordinated flips and superman poses while skating backwards on one foot carrying a 90-pound girl partner.

Went shooting at the gun club on Saturday with Ben & his roommate Carl. The weather was crisp and my fingers tightened up on the girly-ass .20-gauge I was using. Side note: our Italian-sounding Fiocchi ammo is from Ozark, Missouri. No shit. We were a little too ambitious and ended up trying the difficult clay pigeon stations. I am talking far-away difficult-to-see clay pigeons here. Carl and I both got the same score: a whopping 8 out of 50 shots, while Ben did much better: 18 out of 50!

I know what you all are thinking: Did I shoot anyone? The answer: Not that I know of.

And the cows survived.

Saw my high school friend R., whom I hadn't seen since her wedding five years ago, this weekend. Her dad cooked a delicious salmon for dinner on Saturday and we ran to Vasona Park on Sunday morning. R. has become quite the triathlete and is very dedicated. Meanwhile, I am on the slobbish side: I'm just happy if I make it out for a swim or a run most days. =) R. reminds me of several of my friends who are super-high achieving, driven, outspoken, feminist women with more mellow and low-key boyfriends/husbands/fiances. I also have a tendency to be the more "animated" one in relationships. I wonder if relationships function best with these types of "opposites."

R. and I also commiserated over how the natural early birds of the world are at a supreme advantage in society. Those whose bodies automatically wake them up at the butt crack of dawn are perceived as hard-working, dedicated and goal-oriented, while us hard core night owls don't get any recognition for our ability to pull all-nighters partying, studying, or both, and leave those cereal-munching "I go to bed at 8 pm so I can wake up at 3.45" clowns in our nocturnal wake. Fuckers! This just means I need to work in a different industry: food service, entertainment, door bouncer. That's why I'm practicing guitar so hard.

I also ran into H.S. and W.T. (separately) from high school, as I was busy doing a shitload of work at Los Osos. H.S. did some consulting in NYC (we were both in Manhattan during 9-11 but we had no idea) and is now applying to med school. I am looking forward to spending more time with W.T., who is now an English teacher at the local high school. I literally hadn't seen her since graduation. It's so nice to come back as the ex-dork and actually be able to connect with people as a born-again social butterfly. Who likes shotguns.

Snowboard Cross

2006-02-16T23:50:00.000-08:00

Wow! Pretty fucking cool. I approve! The best part is when the guys cut each other off and one of them wipes out, taking out everyone behind him! ROFL!

But what is up with these uniforms? It's like the fucking Yankees decided to toss their bats and go to Italy. They're just a few stripe-widths away from prison jumpsuits, or just a few gore-tex layers from pajamas.

I had another deep thought after doing my 25-fly-no-breathers at the pool this afternoon, and I wanted to share it on here, but it seems to have escaped me. Sorry.

Monster Wave!

2006-02-15T00:05:00.000-08:00

Surfed Bolinas on Sunday. With the full moon helping things out, the waves were decidedl above average. A thrilling day, with gorgeous warm weather ... dare I say, in stark opposition to normal Bolinas operating conditions. The beach was also crawling with your usual palette of Marin hippies and their excited dogs. I love Bolinas!

The grey-green water was cold, and I was shivering after about 2 hours, even with my Roxy 4/3 Cell, but it was worth it. I went with a bunch of guys and I wasn't about to be the first one to go back to shore. Represent, that's my motto.

About an hour into our session, the absolute largest mass of water I have ever seen with my own eyes arose before me. It was easily 15 to 20 feet tall, if not taller. Massive. I watched as it approached swiftly and everything fell silent. I had seen waves on television that dwarfed this one, but it's a little different when you're seconds away from getting smooshed.

Strangely, a sudden eerie calm overcame me, even though I was fully terrified. I was completely focused on one thing: survival. I was clear; no one was around me. I kicked my board back and dove headfirst into the meat of the wave and let it crash over me. Miraculously, it did, and I just felt a strong tug on my right leg by the leash.

What a rush! If only I could approach other hurdles in life with the same coolness and resolve.

On an unrelated note, I just saw the funniest thing on television. Today is/was the dreaded Valentine's day. I fucking hate this day that makes everyone (single or not) feel like shit. But anyway, the late news on Channel 11 had a reporter interviewing single folks this evening. They put a mug of the person talking on screen, with their name, like "John Smith," and their title, which would normally be something like, "City Councilwoman," "Local Homeowner," or "High School Student," was "Single." Hilarious! What a grand scheme for public humiliation on V-day! Might as well make that "Loser," "Dateless," or, more to the point, "Worthless Piece of Shit"!

Another great story idea would be to figure out just how much suicide hotlines and actual suicides spike on or around V-day. I wouldn't be surprised to see a helluva jump in these figures.

But seriously, this day is particularly dangerous because it is a huge faux pas to share the chocolates you have received. This is equivalent to saying, "You suck, pathetic dork!" to your single friends. So, you're basically stuck eating all the fattening chocolates you received by your goddamned self.

This day also tends to engender an arms race of sorts, among both gift givers and receipients, who are trying to outdo the Joneses next door, but all the while remaning secretive about it, as though they were mining plutonium ore in their quest for nuclear power and world domination. Yuck, I'm so glad it's over!

And one more thing: those Olympic girl snowboarders rock so hard! Especially Kelly Clark, who managed to get phenomenal amounts of air on her last run. I have never seen a girl get so much air; it makes me proud to think that someday women snowboarders will be close to indistinguishable from guys. It's a pity that she skidded out on her last 900 - I still think she was robbed of some Olympic bling.

Lowered Zamboni Dragsters

2006-02-08T23:07:00.000-08:00

So we went to the Calgary vs. Sharks hockey game on Monday night. I’d never been before, though I’ve played my share of pickup games. We were sitting in the oxygen tank section, which I really shouldn’t complain about, because my friend Misha said she was hanging from the ceiling on Saturday night. =P

Pre-first period: Secured some non-piss beer, from Tied House. Up to standards. Arrived back in the stadium just in time for poorly and breathlessly sung Canadian and American anthems. I put my hand on my heart for the latter, but felt dorky. Ended up folding my arms instead.

First period: Shitty. Calgary was asleep or something, they were playing very defensively and the Sharks were all up in their biznatch the whole time. Ending score: 1-all.

Break: This dude was offered $7600 from Gas Station 76 to shoot at and make a goal from the center line. What the fuck? He ended up with $76 with a shot from the “penalty box.”

Second period: A little better, but still sloppy on both sides. Calgary up three. Cracked up watching players sitting it out in the penalty box and seeing guys double on each other during power plays. Instructive.

Break: They recruited three teenage boys from the audience and had them race around on tricycles. They also gave away a shitload of electronic devices, like mp3 players and digital cameras. It was Brewster the Zamboni man's birthday, so they put a tight shot of him up on the jumbotron for like, 10 laps on the ice. He looked up a couple times and was like, "What the fuck?"

Third period: Finally, getting my money's worth. This is real hockey. The Sharks scored 2 goals in less than a minute, repeating some previous game's "miracle." The arena filled with screams and people making communist dictator gestures with their fists, that is, if they weren't making these revolting "shark attack" gestures with their arms. As a surfer, it really disturbed me, especially with the accompanying "Jaws" theme. Final score: Calgary won, 4-3.

Overall, a good time, plenty of entertainment. And then there was the Kiss Cam, too, and the fake Zamboni races on the Jumbotron.
My first game ever... exciting, pure entertainment.

And yeah, lowered zamboni dragster racing? Yeah, I'd pay to see that.

Marshmallow Eggs

2006-02-05T22:14:00.001-08:00

I've been waking up wanting to slit my wrists these last couple mornings. I helped Janice move out of her and her boyfriend's apartment on Friday night and it was horrible. I feel for her, and the experience brought up all these sad memories for me.

They'd been living together for four years out of the 5.5 total they've been together. He'd been promising to propose for the last four years. What a fucking crock. On New Year's Eve he busts out the whole, "I'm not so sure about this" spiel. She's like, what the fuck? That came, like, at least 3 years too late.

I helped her cart her shit back to her new place, met her roommate, who was fresh off the boat from France, and we made a quick Ikea run (I think Ikea is utopia, but that's another post) ... and went back to her old place for a last carload. I treated her (ex) boyfriend in a civil and polite manner, but I was *not* pleased with him. She managed to keep the sniffles to a minimum when she said goodbye to him, and I am so glad I was there to help her be strong. I was so torn up myself, I wanted to crumble. The scene triggered an instant-replay of my parents' goodbye to each other many many years ago, when I was only five. It is only now that I realize why this moving day affected me so deeply.

I admire Janice for her amazing strength in this situation. The pain of separation, the glory of re-emergence as a new person. Severing ties, reaching out with tiny tendrils for new ones. The hottest fires forge the strongest swords.

Apologies for the cliches. Yes, reasons to stay single. It's important to remain unattached, I've decided. I went trail running yesterday morning after feeling like taking a razor to the wrist and I realized that I can learn a thing or two from Janice. This type of thing definitely sets you back, but she's determined to pick up the pieces and move on, if he doesn't come around with a proposal. She's already got two dates lined up.

But I've got another reason to stay single. Chinese New Year. If you're not married, you still get money from the older folk. I just returned from a gargantuan Chinese New Year dinner involving poached eggs that looked like marshmallows, giant-ass crabs, drippingly porous tofu, bony fish, and red bean soup. Yummmy. But the thing is, you only have to give out the red packets of money if you're married. So, if you can stay single (keep your fingers crossed) you'll continue to score money ... at least until your folks get old and then it's your turn to dish out the cash.

Is there room for me in Tooldom?

2006-02-04T16:14:00.000-08:00

First off, let me say this. I think people who blog are self-aggrandizing tools. They're big-time exhibitionists and pedagogues who think they actually have something to offer the world. They'll be spouting on about Bush's latest fuckup or their pet theories on on why Schrodinger's cat really is dead or, even worse, discussing in excruciating detail their morning encounter with the boss or how Billy didn't sit next to them after second period English class.

Do I look like I give half a shit?

Fuck No! You're a retard if you think people actually read this drivel!

Then there's the goody-goody types who will use their blogs to "keep in touch" with everyone in their life. These are the worst. They'll post pictures of their trip to Peru with feel-good stories about how Stacey gave some barefoot little mountain boy a chance to use her digital camera and he he nearly pissed his pants in excitement. Ugh! Where's the fun in that kind of blog? If everyone you know reads it, you don't get to rip on them!

Conversely, there's the kind of blog where everyone gets ripped on, including your closest friends. That doesn't work, either, because you can't let anyone know you're keeping a blog, and the only people who read your blog are people you don't know. Then your blog exists in some kind of parallel universe to you, without any interface between your real life and your internet life. That just sounds pathetic.

Conclusion: Blogs! Useless!

However ... with that being said, I've decided I'm ready to join the ranks of bloggers. After years of scorning these fools, I'm ready to make my entree into Tooldom.

I've got plenty of venom and bile and my own bullshit theories to share. I've also got agonizingly boring stories about my boring-ass life. So I guess we'll give it a go. Of course, I'll be dodging the rotten eggs and tomatoes on my way in. Thanks for listening ...