To San Francisco: Love Chicago

Where is the World Going? PDF

2010-10-21T15:21:00.000-07:00

OK.

You know I was thinking about this earlier – I’m going through this thing where I’m asking myself “What do I want to be…” When of course I'm already eyeball deep in what I am.

I have to then say “Well, where is the world going? What skills will I need in 40 years?” Because the reality of my life is in 40 years from now I will most likely be dead or still working. It’s the truth.

And as I’m contemplating these things in the recesses of my mind I get this e-mail (see below).

PDF Upload Process Team.

I mean? Is this the job of the future? Will they be as in demand as doctors? Will they need to be board certified for this job?

Show me your PDF upload response time. 72 hours?! FAIL. I mean - they give 48 hours? just to upload to PDF. Not 48 minutes, 48 hours. They should have 48 seconds.

On the other hand I’m guessing these poor, poor saps – like me maybe in the next 15 years – will be walking around with a resume that is useless.

- PDF Upload Process Team Lead

o Versed in opening e-mail systems

o Can receive and open e-mail attachments

o 100% PDF to Upload conversion rate

I just want to throw myself out a window. Maybe that’s a job of the future – throwing people out the window.

From: Sent: Thursday, October 21, 2010 3:10 PM
To:
Subject: Server reply

Dear Sender,

Thank you for your email which has been received by the PDF Upload Process Team.

This is an automatic response acknowledging your email. There is no need to reply.

Please note that this is only a technical mailbox for pdf invoices, other supplier queries will not be replied from this e-mail address, with those please contact your business partners or the relevant vendor communication channels. Please find the list of mailboxes in the bottom of the page.

We have received your invoice and it will be uploaded to our system within 48 Hours. This leadtime is only for uploading, your invoices were sent for further processing.

Bored Times: Old Post: Good Stuff

2010-10-09T01:28:00.000-07:00

OK - let me preface this because you guys have the worst minds. I like to listen to music and while I do this sometimes I cruise Craigslist Missed Connections because I'm a romantic and I find it to be extremely amusing.
That said and moving on...

Next - You have to have seen the Family Guy episode I'm referencing and then maybe you'll find it funny...the one I'm talking about is where the aside is between two foreign guys.....wait, let me see if I can find it on youtube.....hold please....found it.

http://www.mediazine.net/view/family_guy_foreigner_english

Any how I see this ad (it reminds me of this episode)...and if its in any way serious; and for my own amusement it is, then the below is classically perfect.

10/5 evening we chatted on the 38 bus - m4w - 26 (downtown / civic / van ness)

Reply to: pers-869459304@craigslist.org ^[?]
Date: 2008-10-06, 9:56PM PDT

Hey S. You are from East state. I'm from Southern Cali. I was wearing white pants and yellow shirts on the way back to my place from grocery shopping. You took off at Larkin. I just say bye but I missed timing ask you out for talk sometime. I just want to have a chance to talk with you. You seems to me real woman. E-mail me if you see this or I hope we meet again. I live at Post/Jones.

The Apartment Complex I: My Life is Filled with Murderers

2010-10-09T00:40:00.000-07:00

More blast from my past...I used to live in the nuttiest apartment complex, without further ado:

I woke up this morning to what sounded like a bullet hitting my wall and them a steam train rolling though my home.
This was in fact my new radiator bleeder (so 1900s) busting it's little cap due to extreme pressure. Upon inspection I realize all is well, but maybe I'll need a new little cap. I thought I had stowed an extra one in the kitchen and when I went there to retrieve it I develop a severe case of soaky sock. I wade through what seems like 1/2 inch water to turn on the light to further illuminate what I knew, my kitchen is flooded. I thought, my radiator is the cause. These new bleeders are too powerful. And while it is spitting lots of water, it's not enough to cause this Noah like flood. Upon further inspection I see that from under my sink is where the water is leaking from. I clean up most of the mess and turn off every valve I see. Still, there is a slow and proven to be damaging leak occurring. I do what I did not want to do at 5am, I called the building manager, who answered quite chipperly on the 3rd ring. I tell him what I've done and he explains that I have to go into my neighbors apartment and shut off her valve, because this summer they tapped into it to give my apartment more water pressure. So, if I do no turn hers off mine will still leak. I was thinking, yeah, ok, i'll just wait until you come and do that. I mean, it's 530am, she'll think i'm a rapist scam artist, as they seem to frequent this building. But, when he asked, aren't you knockin? I say fuck it, my kitchen rug is ruined, I need to save the rest and I go do it.

I walk over, and knock. She has a little dog and it gets yappy mad. I hear her yelling at the dog. I hear her walk over and then lock the door ( it was unlocked?) before she retreats to the other room to call for her dog. "Bandit. Bandit ,come here! Come here!!" I continue with my gentle rapping but she never addresses me or the fact that someone is knocking on her door. She actually becomes silent as her dog continues to bark. I find this kind of odd. I'd at least shout "Hey F'er what do you want."
Instead I stand there staring at her door until I have to say, "Um, i'm sorry, it's your neighbor, from across the hall, I need your help...." and I start to explain to the door my plight. If she looked through the peep hole she would have seen me in scrub pants, disheveled hair, ET t-shirt.... She opens the door and I tell her the story quickly and then explain how I have to shut off her valve and she's all, "You don't have to go in my bathroom do you?" And I say "No, just under you kitchen sink." and I make the trek to her kitchen she doesn't bother to turn her lights on; Why won't turn she them on? even when I get to the kitchen i'm scrambling, until i have to ask, "the light?" This whole thing is so uncomfortable and I feel bad and now I'm thinking she has a dead someting in her bathroom. Her apartment is freakishly bare nothing anywhere. I do notice a lot of empty wine bottles and cases of budweiser 30 packs. Odd. When I entered her apartment her tv was on and from the glow it was casting I could see a pair of her underpants lying in the middle of her living room floor. I fussed with her valves (the ones under her sink) apologized lots and left.

So I go back to the phone with the bldg mgr/maintenance guy, he held the whole time. I tell him I've turned of the valves and it's still leaking. And then he starts to describe the valves under her sink, which look nothing like her. And I realize, he's describing my valves. I'm thinking aww, shyt, no, fool you are describing to me my valves and they are off and this is leaking. They tapped into my valves. He realizes it too, his mistake and says he'll be right over. So at 5:45 a.m. I hear a little rap at my door and this guy walks in with a big black satchel and of course I think in it is a saw and other torture devices which he'll use to dismember and dispose of me, probably in my neighbors tub; I think they have collaborated on this project. So for safety I grabbed my cell phone.

He fiddles with my valves and shows me that they are closed, as I had closed them and it's still leaking, brilliant. He asks, "do you have the tape?" And I say, "pipe fitting tape?" Because I do have this and I get this. And he says, "no the grey tape." Duck tape? He says yes, we will fix it with this. At this point water is soaked half way up my pjs, I'm holding sopping paper towels and my neighbor is a sociopath and we're going to fix this with duck tape?? I want to walk out and move to Kansas, simply because I just don't have that tape. After searching I find I have electrical tape, and this is acceptable to him, he won't saw me up and stuff me in a bag, because for now this works.

Fat Asians Don't Run

2010-10-06T08:33:00.000-07:00

In my life I have had the fortune of coaching for a tremendous organization that values the health, positive self image, and productive group interactions of young children. I love coaching for this organization because all of the people are so committed to this ideal and the children are equally enthusiastic, or at least they usually are.

After a hiatus of two years due to scheduling I am back to coaching, the only thing that's changed is my geographic location. Whereas before I coached in Chicago, now I'm coaching in San Francisco and you'd think the change would be minimal; not so.

The main difference is I'm coaching for a school that has a predominantly Asian youth demographic. Again, while that doesn't seem different - something is different. Culturally I'm used to Midwestern kids of all races; working in Chicago schools provided a well balanced demographic of children.

The first day was full of excitement and anticipation. The school I'm partnered with has kids that participate in a variety of after school programs while they wait for their parents to leave their 9 to 5s and retrieve them. I understand that the school must face many challenges attempting to provide a variety of activities for a bunch of restless school kids who are forced to stay at school before they can go home. However, I would not expect one of those challenges to be asking them to stop studying to engage in physical activity. When I was a kid any excuse to get me out of doing homework short of but not totally excluding manual labor was a fair exchange. The first day of the program there were quite a few protests "Do we have to run? I'd rather be doing homework." Writing that seems more surreal than hearing it and I feel that it's a little too stereotypical; but it happened, it's true.

The second biggest, or smallest depending on how you look at it, cultural difference is size. These Asian kids are tiny and conversely many Midwestern kids are large, but I mean if there were toy versions of children as their are in dogs per se, than many of these kids would fall under the toy category. They are not unaware of their miniature statures or the larger frames of others. This was apparent the second day when to get to know each other we played a name association game, e.g. "My name is Martha and I like mints." Simple, friendly, fun? As we went around the circle many of the kids struggled to find a word to associate with their names but some found no problem finding words to associate with their teammates names. One particularly tiny kid next to me was particularly mean spirited, not caring to hear what others said or to participate. Going around the circle we came to a slightly larger kid, I would say semi unfit but no where near unhealthy or concerning in size. However her tiny teammate disagreed so when she shyly said "My name is Sami and I like Squids." her team mate turned to me and snickered "She means her name is Hammy." I said "That's not very nice" and that quieted her a bit. The next kid to participate was a friend to the tiny thorn and offered "My name is Emily and I Don't like Elephants." I said "Well, I guess that works, but why don't you like elephants?" She replied matter of fact, "Because elephants are fat and fat things are ugly." I was slightly taken aback but not super surprised. I wanted to say a variety of inappropriate things but realized I was talking to a school kid so said instead "Elephants are not fat. They are big and strong and many people hope to grow up big and strong."

I don't know if I'm big enough or strong enough to handle to the little attitudes but we'll see.

BoW Club - REAL Office Mystery

2010-09-28T21:40:00.000-07:00

Facts:
i. I'm in a Beer of the Week Club
ii. I'm the only female in the BoW club
iii. Last night there was a 6 pack in the fridge for the 6 BoW club members; my contribution for this week.
iv. I'm OCD, I have odd neuroses, every minor and totally irrelevant detail of the minutia happenings in life I just happen to notice

Evidence: Exhibits A - E

Events:
Mid-Morning - I retreat to the ladies to relieve myself of my morning coffee
Mid-Morning Mid-Stream - While sitting there I notice on the TP dispenser a beer cap, and it looks oddly like a beer cap that belongs to one of the beer of the week club beers which is chilling in the fridge.
Mid Morning - A quick check to the fridge shows that out of 6 beers, 2 are missing.
Mid - Mid - Morning (my bladder is the size of a chick pea) I'm sitting in the bathroom and I notice Exhibit A.

I find it a little odd because (I use the same stall every time - is that odd?) it was not there earlier. So, I look closer and I find Exhibit B.

I think to myself, this is strange.
Lunch Time - I look in the fridge and to my surprise more beers are gone. I think, "Huh?" are my BoW club mates putting the beers in their bags for later? I again have to visit the ladies and on a hunch, and this is gross, I look at Exhibit C (for the gents this is a receptacle which can be found in most sanitary ladies stalls)

and upon looking inside (the gross part) discover Exhibit D.

Now I'm thinking - This is so bizarre, sad, funny? I also think this is a set up, someone has to be playing a joke as this is too strange to be true. I go back to the fridge and now there is only 1 beer left! That's it.
Post Lunch - My mind is piecing things together and I then wonder, wait...I see caps, but where are the empties, if this is a joke then most likely they're in the kitchen recyclable bin. However, as I go back to my desk it kind of hits me and I know I have to go back to the ladies to confirm.
I confront Exhibit E

and when I look inside my suspicion is confirmed with Exhibit F.

Now everything is pieced together; the where (ladies room stall), the general when (mid-morning to mid-afternoon), the general how (some lady had to be going to the kitchen and then directly into the bathroom and chugging - as the bathroom is pretty trafficked - a beer in the stall and tossing the empty in the garbage. Again, this is soo odd to me. I can't even begin to wonder the why. I think of the ladies that work in my office - that's the other thing, it's just our office on the floor and no one else is on our level, and I think, WHO? could be doing this. Is it a joke? Is this someone's kind of funny but also kind of sad reality. It's a Tuesday. We're at work. I start thinking maybe a lady thinks beer is the demon so she's sneaking in the stall dumping the beer down the toilet and then tossing the evidence. Maybe some lady is doing this on a bet a dare. It's almost all too much for me to contemplate.

Am I prude? I'm no saint and on a fleeting occasion or two I've had a beer at lunch in the height of summer and in the throws of a rare 2+ hour lunch outing. Still something about this the image in my head. A lady going into the kitchen, discretely and quickly stashing a cold beer in her skirt? her bra? dashing to the bathroom, not sipping but chugging? and then going to a meeting? Our office is pretty intimate, there were not many of us ladies today - 9 all in; desks are close, except for mine which is why I can't figure out the last part. I would think you could smell the beer so someone who sits near the suspect knows the last piece of my puzzle.

I'm not making any of this up. It's all true, I mean it's one of those it's too strange not to be true type scenarios.

Any how - that's all I have, I can't say any more about this.

FAX You.

2010-09-13T14:13:00.000-07:00

Our health care system causes me concern for many reasons. One of the most alarming is the administration of the system by those in the trenches.
True story. I help administer our health care - our company uses a very large health care provider - which requests, prefers actually, that all correspondence concerning employee maintenance from the activation to deactivation of their plans be handled via fax. I have issues with the fax machine, the public openness of their placement in many offices, the speed at which they relay information, etc...
Recently I had to activate an employee's insurance. I did as requested, filled out 11 pages of paper work and stood patiently as I fed into the fax machine each page, waited for them to scan, and then submit/process. In return I was rewarded with a one line print out which read "OK" giving me the confidence that my fax and all it's precious information was in fact relayed and my employee could rest easy knowing they'd be insured.
A week later - via the USPS I received a typed letter saying my fax was missing one piece of information and I should re-fax not the one missing piece - but the entire document - because this is how things are done. I phoned immediately raising my concern but was assured this was the proper procedure and there was no alternative. I couldn't give the missing information via phone they needed a faxed, and then scanned record. During the call it was also revealed that only 6 of my 11 pages were received and my "OK" meant zip.
A little frustrated I did as told and again faxed all 11 pages and was rewarded with my one line confirmation "OK"
This time I decided to be proactive and phoned the representative the next day. I was told my fax was not received. Calmly but sternly I replied "But I have a fax confirmation that says it was relayed and to the number you gave me. It says "OK"." The representative told me that might be the case but I still needed to resubmit all 11 pages - I could mail them. However, I was told because of the time that had elapsed the employee would have to be enrolled in the next billing cycle which was not acceptable. I said I faxed the information timely and received not one but two "OKs" and the employee should not be punished for this exercise in archaic information transmission. I was told that I had to prove my faxes were indeed sent within the allowed time period. When I asked how I could possibly do this and expeditiously I was told "fax us the fax confirmation pages..."
Seriously health care administrators? Fax you.

My Walk To Work

2008-11-18T21:48:00.000-08:00

Every day I walk to and from work. I usually take a similar route and I get up early so I can make a stop at they gym. Now - I have to be honest and say that San Francisco is truly filled with some of the craziest motherfuckers you'll ever meet. Sorry Aunt Deb - but sometimes the only way to really paint a mental picture of something is to pepper in some profanity. That aside they are a lot of wackos out here. I don't see a ton of homelessness except on my walk to work. They're all still sleeping all along the sidewalk and I literally have to step over them. I really need to take up biking and I'm working on it...I'll keep you posted.

I'm sorry I have to stop for just a moment and I have to put this in here, it ties into the profanity statement. I listen to music while, well, I listen while I do everything but I'm listening (again - sorry to you I keep mentioning them to) to this band I can't get enough of and they are a bit vulgar and profane and this song is kind of kitschy but I dig the beat...So 3OH!3...don't trust me.

Back to the story at hand. There are just a lot of crazy homeless people here. And I don't use the term crazy lightly - I think on the certifiable scale the crazy people you'll encounter here get their own scale. They have to go above and beyond to be abnormal. For example I was walking to work one day and when I approached an intersection that was near the city center there was a woman standing on the corner in a cat suit. It was a tiggeresque patterned dress and she was wearing matching ears. Parked next to her was a stroller atop of which were two sleeping cats - at least I hope they were sleeping my other theory is that they were dead or drugged. As people would pass by she would hold out a cup and meow. I wish I was joking but I'm not. My point is the effort this took. Either she was obsessing about this for quite some time or she woke up one day and said "I want to beg for money but I need a gimmick - I know I'm going to spend the day as a cat." And then she had to go to the craft store and get tiger patterned materials for her custom dress. She had to find a drug dealer to give her sedatives for her cats.
The story doesn't end there though. A couple of weeks later I was coming home from a day at the beach and this same woman was walking down my street dressed in a Christmas themed outfit. I saw her walking towards me and as I frantically fumbled for my keys and with the locks she approached (as I knew she would)and started to tell me about "And the pigs are eating the chickens and the chickens eat the rats and Jesus will save them all..." And all I could do was avoid eye contact while telling her "Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone..." That was a close call I was one second away from being recruited into her crazy holiday themed lifestyle. She took my two favorite holidays so I'd be stuck dressing up as a bunny and carrying around dead rabbits. I'll let you know how that goes.

New, New, New things...

2008-11-18T21:08:00.000-08:00

Since you last heard from me I've done a lot... I will keep it brief:

1. Got a job - I work a lot but I like it a lot...not sure how many 12+ hour days later I'll still be saying that but I love the energy and the people so it makes it not so awful.

2. I left the comfort of Lidia and Dapri's nest and got an apartment - I wonder if they miss me as much as I miss them...I don't miss sleeping on a couch and am thoroughly enjoying my bed and walk in closet.

About my new hood...I live in Nob Hill and the neighborhood is great - or so I think. The Hyde-Powell Street Cable car runs down the street past my place and I dig that its very San Francisco. That and the hum of the cable car cables that run 24/7 under the street reminds me of the constant sound I used to get with the "L" back in Chicago.

Another bonus is it's only a 15 minute walk to work. My gym - with a pool is on the way. I do have a story about the pool and I'll get to that later.

3. Lidia got married...and looked absolutely amazing doing so...

4. We've been having "Indian Summer" if that's still ok to say that. It's been incredibly warm and sunny although when I left work today it was quite chilly. But I didn't need a warm jacket chilly - just my sweater. I kind of like this - ok, I really like this.

And that's all the big stuff. Now on to the little stuff...

The Great Return....

2008-11-10T23:18:00.000-08:00

Coming shortly....

I promise.
With pictures. Great stories - ok - great might be a bit of an exaggeration but I have stories.
It's been exactly 1 month so I have stuff to talk about.
I've been busy with work - but I promised I wasn't going to be that person - so I'm not...

For Rent - Kind of

2008-10-10T02:54:00.001-07:00

Hi - We have a room for rent in our Fabulous 4 bedroom Victorian. This place IS the BEST place in the whole of S.F. We live in the best neighborhood, on the best block, by all of the best of the best things. You want to live here so badly. You don't even know why you do, but you do and you are frantically copy pasting our e-mail into your reply and you are sweating as you begin to whore yourself to us while you blather on shamelessly of why you think you're so cool but know you're not and frankly we probably won't pick you because we have decided that we are so fabulous that we'd rather pay $400 more in rent each than have to pick you. But if you must reply...about us.

The roommates - Roommate (1) 30 yo non-smoking, 420 friendly, vegan (meat on special occasions - but only outside the house), a Googler by day, but dabbles in writing and playing the guitar at night (the light sleepers need not apply). He likes to cycle, climb, restore old sail boats and cook and enjoys a glass of wine but only occasionally. He rises at 4am for Yoga - your wall is his wall - early risers preferred!

Roommate (2) 27 yo genderqueer (GLTB friendly - please apply to our house) he smokes - but outside and is trying to quit so we prefer a non-smoker, she's a dance instructor and he teaches yoga. She's taken up meditation and he cycles at almost pro level. She bartends at night and has a bit of a snoring problem - your other wall is his wall - night owls this might be for you!

Roommate (3) 32 yo female. bilingual teacher at a troubled youth center. she likes to cook, ski, and works at the mission on weeknights when she can find the time. Is also currently on a non-sugar diet so this is currently a sugar free house we prefer to keep it that way in support of her venture.

We are not into drama. Our house is a home - we like to hang out with each other but you must have your own life as well, its creepy if you don't. Please don't apply if you are a Republican, you've ever read anything by Fitzgerald, a neat freak, too dirty, too loud, no hermits, we're the 3rd floor so cripples this place isn't suited for your needs don't think to hit reply. We don't mind that you party but don't bring the party home unless we are having a house party then certainly we expect and require you to partake. If your credit score isn't 700 you should really consider relocating to Oakland so definitely don't apply here, two past roommate references, a link to all your social sites (facebook, myspace - we want to know the "real" you). We are totally into creating a "green" house. We compost, recycle, flush the toilet only on Tuesdays and Saturdays, only use lights between 9pm and 4am (and no, no TV - sorry we use our brains for something more - ignorant people need not apply).

Your room - Its the real gem of the house. It has one window that faces the wall of the Victorian home next to us. Sunlight is never a problem - late sleeping on the weekends we don't host brunch revivals in the living room is a total possibility. It's a little cold and a little warm so those sensitive to light fluctuations in temperature - this is not for you. The cats love your room and have made it their home away from our home. You must love cats. We have 2 (Hester and Lester - we love them and you should too!) and sometimes our neighbors cats find their way inside so we sometimes have 4 but they are all outside sometimes so we kind of have none. We just acquired a reptile we adore and you must too - well if we can find where it went you must. Although we love animals - no more pets - unless it's a really cute small dog of sorts - than maybe.

Please tell us a little about yourself. And we will determine from your 2 paragraph e-mail if you are a poser - so don't think of selling yourself to us, we know you're scum.

Then tell us; Why do you want to live in our house? Why are you worthy of an e-mail reply telling you that you would never be able to live in a house half as awesome as ours? In fact why are you looking to live in a house, have you not considered an underpass? Perhaps Golden Gate Park?

Consider the following questions before replying:

If you were a bird what kind of bird would you be?

If you could only paint your pinky toe nail every 3rd week of every leap year, what color would you paint it?

Thanks for reading and we plan to host a series of open houses in the next 3 weeks with the people we deem "finalists" to try to determine from the way you shift about uncomfortably if we want to invite you to a private interview. Please shower before you come. We would love it if you were bilingual because that would make for an even cooler household. Oh, Roommate 1 really likes leather so extra points for wearing some to the open house!

Happy House Hunting!!!! We look forward to not responding to you.

- This is currently my life. I get why its necessary and very important...and that's why I can have fun with it because if I took it too seriously/personally (which I was) then I probably would have walked in front of 5 buses by now. I'm optimistic and am starting to have some fun with it. Lidia is my saving grace in all of this - and the person that grounds me before I get too crazy - which happens often. I've never been exposed to such an intense rental market before - but then again I've never lived in a place like this before. I wouldn't have said this until today but I believe it's worth it. I think it keeps everyone a little funny, a little interesting and a little honest. And it makes for some great experiences - I'm going to check out an attic space - no windows...a ladder is the only entrance/exit and its only 5 feet high. I honestly can't wait to see it.

This really is a great place to be - well if I ever find a place to live it'll be a really great place to be. Here's to hoping....I'll keep you posted. -

No Hill Bike Route - It exists

2008-10-09T08:20:00.000-07:00

San Francisco Wiggle - Downtown to GGP

http://www.bikely.com/

Running on the Run

2008-09-30T09:23:00.001-07:00

At first I was hesitant to share this story and only because of the whole Wow that's gross and/or that's a little too much information. I changed my mind for a few reasons.

It is who I am or a part of what I deal with - I know, I thought I was perpetually sexy and flawless too...who knew that's just not true?
Being human and all that comes with it is funny and you need to laugh at that or I do.

I like to run. I do it as often as I can. And as you all know when you run you try to be mindful of what will make your run a pleasant one. Right shoes, right clothes, right diet...especially the right diet directly prior to running. So over the years I've perfected this as best anyone can. There are sometimes though when I just have a bad day.

I took off on my run planning on making it a longer one. All flat and down hill on the way out and uphill the whole way back. I liked my route but on the way out my stomach hurt and cramped a little and a small pain set in. I'm kind of used to this and I thought to just breath it out and all would be fine. I take a couple more steps and I realize I am not going to be fine. I am in severe pain and I'm going to throw up out of some end of my body and I am not prepared to do it in the middle of the street.

I round a corner and I regard the households. I'm so tempted and on the verge of desperation. I play the scenario in my head. I go up ring the bell "Hi. I was out running. I'm sick. Let me use your bathroom. I'm from the Midwest trust me this is nothing perverse. And do you mind leaving I would like some privacy..." No, I can't.

I start breathing deeply and I'm hunched over thinking "Oh dear Lord. No. No. No..." I continue my pathetic shuffle down the street and I see these porta potties and there's a heavenly light shining on them and I will myself over to them to discover they all have pad locks. Oh dear Jesus are you kidding? How does this town cater to the homeless with pad locks. I want to cry and at this point I am literally on my hands and knees. I'm crawling and thinking Why didn't I bring my cell phone? I need to call Lidia and even if I did I'm past the point of no return. I can't be helped. I need to shout out to the happy people outside the bar across the street to where I'm at to call an ambulance and tell them to bring a bag. I am sweating and in tears I'm praying out loud "God, don't let this happen to me. I'm strong I endure so much but I can't endure this. I can't defecate on myself. I just don't know how I'll handle that. I can't." What would I do? Walking up these hills is a slow laborious process and I can't imagine how it would be to attempt to make that walk in soiled spandex pants. Passing people "I'm so sorry. Please, please disregard the stench. The horror. Turn your heads. Don't breath and don't laugh at me!"

I've about given up. Accepting my fate. I'm going to lie down at this point and just take off my pants and let nature literally run its course. I lift my head and notice the building on the corner I've crawled around is to an Economy Inn and there is a sign that is shining, beaming "Vacancy."
I muster up the strength I pray for the will "Please, please let me make it. Let me find a way and I'll start adopt a homeless person a bathroom foundation."
I stand up and take the pained steps to the Inn Door. I don't know if it was my pale sweating pained face or what I just said "Look this is strange but I need to know do you have a bathroom I could..." and before I finished the keeper said without blinking "Come around the corner outside."

I go outside and go around the corner and there is the door to room 11. It opens and the guy steps aside. I think for a split second Oh no. This is some odd fetish of his. Why is room 11's door connected to the Inns Office? Is there a camera here? but before I could think further I am seized by another cramp and I just say "Ok Thank you." and I bolt for the bathroom.

This part is awful so I will spare you. I was just sitting there shaking my head. I hope there's not a maid. I hope she doesn't have to come in here for days. What did I eat today? This is just ridiculous.

Lifetimes go by before I emerge at the same time the keeper and Yay, a maid enter. They see me washing my face and exit. I exit a minute later and they are kind of smirking at me and I smirk back "All better."

I start to jog home when I realize this is no time to push that matter.

I get home and share the story with Lidia who agrees the story is more amusing than it is devastating. I spend the rest of the night lying on the floor a little sore and contemplating if I should get the inn keeper a gift card or something but I figure the embarrassment is not worth revisiting and perhaps my amusement was enough. All in all I survived to run another day.

Public Storage Revisited

2008-09-30T07:54:00.000-07:00

You would think one Public Storage story would be enough but this one is slightly amusing.

When I first went to the Public Storage when I got here over a month ago I was a little shocked and slightly concerned about the staff? There was just something a little off with all of them. But I didn't give it too much thought until I was just back this most recent time. I shouldn't say too much about it since all of my highly valuable (i.e. bowling pin and oven mitts) is still stored there. I will let the story speak for itself.

I went back to my storage to pay my monthly rent and to pick up a muffin pan; I was going to bake.

To get into PS I would liken it to getting into the Area 51 or CIA at Langley all technical and secure... You get a code which you use to get in the gate to the entrance and once you're in the building to use the elevator you need the code again to get to any floor from any floor and vice versa. Its not rocket science its just cumbersome especially if you punch in a wrong number in the antiquated system that's had its buttons pushed one too many times.

I get in the elevator, punch in my code am let off on my floor retrieve my things and return to leave. On the way down to the main floor I punch in the code again but when I get to the 1st floor the door does not open. I thought "huh, punched in the code wrong." So I punched the code in again and hit the button for it to take me to the floor I was just at and it does but the door does not open. I thought, "maybe I've confused the elevators highly intelligent system." I hit the button to go down and it does but the doors do not open. I realize I'm stuck and I don't know why so I press the button that says "Call Manager."

Promptly a person responds "Yes, can I help you?" and I think No, no you may not I pressed this button because I found it boring to travel 3 floors and wanted a chat. Instead I respond "Um, yes, I think I'm stuck. The elevator doors won't open."

"OK, I'll be right there."

And so I waited...

I hear all of this ruckus outside the door and then a *knock* *knock*
Knocking?? Seriously?

"Yes, I'm busy in here do you think you could come back later? I'm having friends over for dinner and they'll be here any minute and I've not yet dusted the emergency phone! "

I knock back and as a response I get a knock and a "Are you still in there?"

I'm silent before I answer "No, I'm gone this is my answering service."

I mean, where is the sense in any of this. I wish I were exaggerating but I am not.

I'm then asked "Have you tried pressing the button?"
I can barely gag up an answer "Really? This is my first time in an elevator. I was born 4 centuries ago and am just now visiting the modern era. That's what these buttons are for? You're supposed to press them? And here I'm thinking they are decoration. Well, hell, how about I try that now."

I press all the buttons loudly "Wow, they don't seem to work."

I get back a series of loud noises and "Hey I'm prying on the door are you pressing the button?"

"Am I supposed to?"
"Yes you press the button while I pry and then you push."

I'm shaking my head thinking I should take this service out of my rent. I'm pushing while this guy is prying and my toe is on the button cause there's no other way to do it. I'm crane my head to look at the security camera and think the surveillance tape from the elevator is going to wind up on redtube...wondering if I should ham it up and stick out my tongue, but before I can give it more thought the door starts to open. When it's open a crack he says "OK, put your arm in with me and pull it open."

"No way. No way am I putting my arm in there. It'll get stuck and I'll have to cut it off. I've read between a rock and a hard place." (this is so redtube material, right?).

He puts both his arms in and opens the door. As I emerge he asks "Wow. Were you in there long?"
I don't know what to say to this so I don't say anything at all. I just walk away with my muffin pan and a new found fear for society and public storage elevators.

My New Hair....well 1 week old by now.

2008-09-30T07:49:00.000-07:00

I changed my hair color for the fall. I think it works well with the trees that don't change color here. This picture looks ridiculous but it shows the color well.

I had it done at a place called Wak Shack which I mentioned earlier. There's not much more to say to all of this so I will continue with other things...which there are lots and not lots, depends on how you look at it.

My First Concert - Well, in California

2008-09-20T23:20:00.000-07:00

My first concert was Bon Jovi - their Slippery When Wet Tour - my mom took me. So thankful to her for this and one of my fondest concert memories. Skid Row opened - and I believe and someone has to let me know if I'm wrong - Sebastian Bach had piercings on his ear, nose, and nipple and a chain connected them all...but I digress.

A few days ago I had the extreme fortune of attending not only my first music show in California - but a damn good one.
Lidia's co-worker and friend was unable to attend the My Morning Jacket show so he most generously gave us his tickets.

The concert was at the Greek Theatre located on the University of California - Berkeley campus. This was my first visit to Berkeley's campus. We had to walk the length of the campus to get to the venue. We decided the best route was straight through the center.

This was a great idea and the worst idea. I immediately became nostalgic (it being on the brink of fall did not help at all) and began thinking of what degree I wanted to pursue so I could attend school again. I started writing my letter for admission in my head. I think my chances are good, well once I determine if I want to study nanophsyical sciences or botany. Lidia was on the same page as me except she decided she was nostalgic for a college keg party. This worked in my head as well. I wondered what the price of a cup goes for these days - especially on a more affluent campus than the one I attended. I thought we used to pay $3 to $5 for a cup, depending on if there was a band or DJ and this makes me laugh heartily that we used to say that "Um, we have a band, so it's going to cost you $5 as opposed to $3" In Chicago I would pay on average $20 for a band and then my beers if I was lucky cost $5 on the low end.

Still, $7 for a night of drinking...is not a bad deal, listening to O.A.R. or NKOTB - boyfriend song...over and over with scrawny college boys...I don't think someone could pay me $70 to do subject myself to that. Although, I am unemployed and $70 would be pretty decent earnings for a night; so I must retract my former statement and say I would subject myself to that and maybe a keg stand or two.
All of the college nostalgia aside. Berkeley is a very large and very pretty campus. They have a clock tower that is larger than any building I have seen in San Francisco and it to my knowledge is completely useless (the clock tower, not San Francisco). I loved this.

We reached the Greek Theatre in time to catch the beginning of MMJs set which was in full swing. The venue is completely outdoors. It looks like a Greek coliseum - hence the name I'm guessing. The lay out allowed for amazing vantage points of the stage and band and the sound was great. Loud enough to not hear your neighbor but not loud enough to leave your ears ringing for days on end.

MMJ did as I would have expected; put on an amazing show. They played most songs from their new album Evil Urges (It is the Evil Urges Tour) and a slew of others from albums past. They played with all the energy they could muster, they jammed out with an energy and vigor that left me wanting more instead of wishing they'd "just get on with it all ready." (sorry - I feel this way about lots of jammy bands - I get that its personal).
The weather was cool and crisp. The crowds energy ebbed and flowed with the bands and it was great. I hope to go to more shows and experience more venues but for my first time out I couldn't have asked for a more perfect experience.

While I realize I look a wee bit drunk in this picture I can assure you its just not so. Not only did I not attend a college party or partake in a keg stand I didn't even drink. I am drunk on good music is all I can think to say and that is so corny it wasn't worth writing. But I did and I was so that is that is that.

Lands End - Really, it's the End

2008-09-20T22:39:00.000-07:00

Nothing makes me feel more alive or closer to nature than knowing my imminent death looms around every bend in the pathway I walk and that's what it was like at Lands End.
Lands End Trail in particular. LET is a beautiful coastal trail located at the ocean edge side of Golden Gate Park. There are many 'hidden treasures' along the way that makes all of what I'm about to say worth the trip.
If you enter the park at the Eagles Point trail head there is a huge sign that reads "Steep Cliffs - People have slipped and been crushed to their death by waves. Enter with extreme with caution." I kind of laughed as I rounded the bend and when I sort of slipped almost off the edge of a the cliff I realized it wasn't a joke. Every so often signs like this and the one above would materialize along the way.
If I wasn't worried about slipping and falling and being crushed to death I was worried about how at the edge of California it is extremely secluded and wooded. I wondered why there wasn't yet another sign " Warning - People have been maimed and dismembered by psychotic maniacs. Enter with a sidearm." There are points where the flaura is overgrown on the very narrow path and while fighting claustrophobia and making sure I kept towards the non-cliff side I became extremely paranoid by every little noise I heard. "Is that a wave crushing a body to death? Is that an animal making love?" I wasn't sure what the noises were occurring alongside me I just pushed any thoughts out of my head that they were being created by a psychopath stalking me and waiting to pull me into the woods to bludgeon me to death and then dispose of my body by throwing it off a cliff and letting it be crushed by waves to destroy the evidence. I'm glad I'm putting this idea out there because all of this horror aside it truly is an absolutely breath taking trail. I passed a sparse number of hearty runners and once I became accustomed to the landscape (mostly sand and soft soil with miniature chasms) I made a firm mental note that I planned on returning often to jog the trail; it makes a very nice loop, decent run, and is, need I point it out, very scenic.

Also if I can find a running partner to do an evening run it makes for a gorgeous sunset. And while I love a good sunset I'm not about to carry a glock to enjoy it by myself.

Who Cries Over Football?

2008-09-14T22:52:00.000-07:00

This is what I was asking myself this afternoon as I drank my beer and literally bit my hand to keep myself from laughing too hard at the guy sitting next to me having an "episode?"

How to begin...

I was walking down the street when I decided I wanted to watch football. This is no easy task. There is no great abundance of sports bars. Bars that have TVs advertise "We show NFL games on Sunday" because it is a big deal that a bar does. However, that is a different story for a different day as I can't bring myself to write about how awful it is not being able to readily watch and celebrate the Bears when they had such a poor showing today...

I walk into the Elixir. This is a great bar in the Mission District. It's a bit divey, a bit neighborhoody (is that a word?). It has a rich history, an eclectic crowd, chill bartenders, just everything you'd or I'd hope for in a bar. But it is by no means a sports bar and I wasn't expecting a typical sports crowd, but since it had advertised NFL games here I figured people would be kind of into the games. Initially I was just passing by and saw a TV and wanted to check the score of the Jets vs. Pats game. When I did this I spotted an open seat right at the corner of the bar nearest the door. I figured I watch just a little so I walked in and sat down and waited for the bartender to take my order. I glanced over my left shoulder and caught the eye of a very visibly drunk guy who said "Hey there pretty pants." That's exactly what he said. The woman sitting next to him looked at me then him and harshly grabbed his face and being whispering sternly into it "Why are you being stupid. What are you doing? Why are you a little jerk. You are not going to be stupid. You are going to behave. why are you so stupid? Why are you a stupid jerk..." She said a slew of other things all in that vein and I didn't care much. I ignored them and waited for the beer I ordered.

I'm not too long into watching the game when the "couple" next to me begins to have the most peculiar conversation I've ever had the discomfort of hearing. First, it quickly becomes apparent the two are not a couple. They have some history because the girl reminds the guy several times "I've known you so long now. I've known you so many years now. We've known each other years and years..." Second, it becomes apparent that they are much more drunk than I initially thought because she and he are slurring badly "Ish own you, ishownyouooo soooo ong now.. long time." Third, they begin to, for lack of a better phrase, have a pissing contest of who had the greater sob story in terms of their past love lives. Who was more in love more with their ex, who's ex loved them more which led into who understood who's pain better or who couldn't possibly understand the other's pain because of the undetermined who had the greater sob story.

The chick rattles on about her ex...Paul. The guy keeps talking about his ex, Sarah. They are both talking and not listening to one another which makes them talk louder which when you're watching a football game in a bar not meant for football games...well it's hard to ignore them. At one point the girl is gushing on "Paul...he called me, he called me a few months ago to tell me I was his life's greatest love, he's never loved anyone more, and that he just wanted me to wake up every morning with a smile on my face and be happy because he wanted me to just be happy....and," the guy interjects "And where is Paul now?" she tries to answer - and his back is facing the bar so he throws the back of his head on the bar and lowers the octave of his voice as he raises the decibel of it "Where is Paul now? W-h-e-r-e i-s h-e n-o-w? WHERE IS PAUL NOW?" and to stop this childish display she shouts "You know where Paul is now? You know what happened? A woman, an heiress offered him $5 million to give her an heir. He left me because how could he turn down $5 million (at this point my hand is bleeding I'm biting it so hard in an attempt to not laugh and I'm thinking if I were Paul I might take $5.00 and call it a fair payment to not be with her...). He didn't know how involved he'd have to be in having an heir with her..." She seriously is saying this very seriously. In fact she repeated this story about 5 times kind of like she was trying to convince herself that this was true. That yes, heiresses are walking around San Francisco offering hipster guys from the mission district $5 million for a sperm donation. Incredible; a new career idea for me perhaps?

As she goes on and on about knowing such a great love, that a price tag was actually put on it ( maybe she watched indecent proposal one too many times?) he cuts her off because he wasn't listening or caring. "Why do you cut me out of your life? Why do you isolate me?" and he breaks into a chorus of "Why do you isolate me..." except at this point he starts to sob. Like a little kid whose dad just yelled at you and as punishment made you watch as he killed your puppy via stepping on and crushing its head; sobbing. She gathered him in her arms and said "You know I love you. You tell me you love me and I don't isolate you." And he sobbed harder. There is about 10 minutes of sobbing going on when the bartender comes over and sees two drunk people sobbing and blabbing incoherently about their profound love for other people, each other and the universe...and me with tears streaming down my face and a pool of blood from my hand which is at this point bitten in half and says calmly "Is everything OK over here?" She looks up "He's having a bad day." I am speechless thinking "Bad day? You're both having a life that only a freight train to the face can fix." but when the bartender looks in my direction all I can do is bite my hand harder and shrug my shoulder. The bartender glaces at my empty glass, at me, my empty glass again, the couple sobbing and says to me, "The rest of your drinks are on me."

The girl has soothed the guy into a silent sobbing when she actually tugs at my shirt and points toward the pile of cocktail napkins in front of me. She gives me a little frown and all I can think to say to her is "No fucking way." This whole time the atmosphere is a jovial one. Everyone around us is watching football - uninterrupted and my dumbass is stuck in the corner seat nearest the door, the only one that was open and now left subjected to this odd display of what I don't know. Everyone is watching football. Everyone is engrossed in Brett Favre, a man that will play an entire game of football with all his ribs broken and puncturing his internal organs without as much as a grimace and here's me, now contemplating a career in heir womb rentals along with this guy who has been sitting next to me for over an hour crying, correction, heaving sloppy tears all over the place...because he feels "Isolated?" by his jerk friend??

She gathers her things and him and says "Come on, I just noticed the time and you're going to be late for work. You can't be late for work. You have to keep your life in order and you have to get to work."

Seriously? Where the fuck does this guy work? If it's a suicide hot line I quit life.

Golden Gate Park - Beware of Squirrels

2008-09-10T23:15:00.001-07:00

It's very hard to summarize in any way that would not be tragically lengthy all there is to see in GGPark when you're walking through all the nooks and crannies so I'll spare your retina.

There is one thing I want to share here.

I dislike squirrels. I always have. I think they are hostile creatures with vindictive motives. Are they scavenging for a nut or burying a land mine? Are they sitting there frozen when I walk by because they are scared or because they are contemplating if it would be worth the effort to gouge my eyes out and eat my face off.

Not long ago there was a feature on Sunday Morning a program that airs on CBS - um, on Sunday mornings. Great program, honestly. The point being they spoke of how in London they have the red squirrel. And here in the states we have the grey squirrel. Well, the grey squirrel are for lack of a better term, bastards. They move in, destroy everything and take over. And in recent history they were introduced to London. Now it is so bad that there is a group that goes out and military style devises tactics to round up and destroy the American Grey Squirrel as the Red Squirrel is being driven from its natural habitat.

This to me just proves my point. The grey squirrel I see every where I roam are no good. They are fooling us into believing they are harmless forest dwelling creatures that sadly are being forced into more urban areas where they are subjected to things like getting run over by cars. All the while they are increasing their numbers and when their population is big enough to overwhelm us they will take over and rule the world.

I know you think all of the above seems like the ranting of someone who has lost their mind; But I hope I don't need to say any more but display the pictures I took from my walk in the park today. These frail old ladies were being maliciously stalked and harassed for what? for walking? minding their own business?...or for being a part of the weaker sect of the human race and the squirrels master plans. What's next our children?

They are bastards.

I do fully realize this belongs in the Rant and Rave section of Craigslist. So I do thank you for putting up with it.

Clinically Helpless

2008-09-10T22:34:00.000-07:00

I spend lots of my days walking around. My job should be giving walking tours although since I don't know anything that could be slightly uncomfortable.

"And here we have a sided Victorian home. someone of importance or non-importance may or may not have lived here at some time. And if we continue up the street there will be a house that looks exactly like this one, but in a different color. Around the corner will be a park...I think... for sure a Deli/Liquor Store/Grocer, but maybe not, perhaps a Nail/Waxing/Therapeutic massage hut. I can assure all of you we will pass all of these things along our walk/crawl at some point and they maybe will have or one time had some significance."

In preparation for my job interview, to make myself extremely presentable, I purchased a new tube of deodorant. OK, I should be up front and say I have no self control when I'm in the deodorant aisle so it's likely I went to purchase a bottle of water, wandered down the deodorant aisle and because I'm a bit of a compulsive addict about it, bought it. I have tubes of deodorant every where. I can open any bag big or small and there will be a tube. Every drawer; even the ones in desks of former jobs. When my car was in my possession in the side of the door and for back up one in the glove compartment and a spare in the trunk just in case. For sure I kept extras in my vanity cabinet and closet. It's a problem and I realize that. Some people always have gum on them; I have deodorant.

Mind you the obsession doesn't go unwarranted. I truly believe I have overactive sweat and odor glands in my armpits and that's not crazy to say because there is a whole sub sect of dermatology dedicated to this phenomena. You can have your sweat glands from your armpits removed (a glandiopitectomy). Although since sweating is something the body needs to do you would then sweat else where and I believe there is no place that would be any more desirable. Behind the ears? knees?

Any how, my true belief does not go unwarranted. My past boyfriend once told me "after you run your armpits smell." Just like that. A fact.

I have gone through every type of deodorant. Sprays. Powders. Gels. Both men and women variations and nothing short of going to a dermatologist seems to be effective.

I heard wind of these new clinical deodorants being released on the market and girls with problems seemingly similar to my own swore these new products were the answer. They really worked.

Wrapping back to the beginning of my story I was in the deodorant aisle and there it was. The clinical deodorant. For $9.99 I was sold. I thought with my nerves pre-interview during the uphill walk this would be perfect timing to test it.

Five blocks into the walk my pits were soppy and sad. The did not smell but they were damp. Failure. I think this added to my discouraging post interview blues. My dry happy deodorant dreams were debunked along with any career aspirations.

When I got home I theorized to Lidia that maybe I needed to follow the instructions on the packaging. It says for ultimate effectiveness to apply before bedtime and again during the day, I got this, I was building a base, a system of defense. Like I have super disagreeable and hostile armpits. They need to be tamed via a constant wearing down with an intense barrier guard regiment. I wondered if I should add some extras to the instructions 1. shave armpits directly prior to deodorant application 2. apply 1st coat of deodorant 3. layer with baby powder - extra drying 4. 2nd deodorant coating 5. cool air blow dry 6. sleep with arms raised above head with no shirt or vented armpit shirt. 7. wear clothing made of natural fibers (aka naked)

I did all of the above (except I wore a cotton shirt) and on my travels today - walking the length of and exploring in depth all of Golden Gate Park ( 6 hours of walking) not only were my armpits damp but they "sort of smelled." and I when I got home I needed to take a shower to wash away my shame (aka - girls don't smell - especially after they spend $9.99 not to).

I'm thinking of looking into that sweat gland removal. I'll see if I can work it where my tongue sweats as I think spitting excessively is sexier than smelling.

Goodbye Superman

2008-09-10T00:00:00.000-07:00

Today I interviewed for a job at one of San Francisco's many tech firms. I can't tell you exactly what position I was applying for and what exactly I'd be accounting for and not because I have to use discretion but because I honestly have no idea.

After my interview I was left feeling very disillusioned with the whole business of accounting and finance. I wondered why I wasn't pursuing my life's passion...which since I don't know what that is (I am taking suggestions - recommend a passion and I'll pursue it) I put myself in a funky mood.

The thing that's the most upsetting about this is I had worn my interview underpants. I don't know why I'm sharing this other than it obviously has lost it's charm, like in the magical sense. Anyhow in my recent interviewing history I find that I wear the same underpants. Call it superstition, call it having something "on my side," call it neurotic but I've never had a negative feeling during an interview or after and I think they have something to do with it.

They are my superman underpants. I feel that after today I have to burn them. I have 3 pairs in total and I feel I should put them all in the oven and roast and eat them for how awful I felt after today. There is no magic in underpants or in accounting. I am going to pursue an existence where I don't have to exist. I ask how this is possible? The only thing I know is the answer doesn't involve my underpants.

Lake Tahoe - South Shore

2008-09-09T23:31:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I had the pleasure of hiking in Lake Tahoe where the residents are "keeping Tahoe blue" and the water is blue. The mountains are blue, the sky is blue, it's like a smurf exploded and the terrain was stained with various smurf remnants (I envision a smurf and all of it's bodily fluids being different shades of blue so this description is very fitting). It's very pretty.

Even the birds are blue (Steller Jays are very abundant).

The terrain is very rocky and there are a lot of dead and dying trees and while this seems a little bleak it's anything but. There is so much going on

with the flora and fauna... and I sound so very ignorant that I'm sure if the ranger I encountered was reading this she'd be murdering the desolation forest's fauna out of frustration. I learned on this hike that Giant Sequoia when you put your nose to the bark and inhale, smells like warm vanilla. This was incredible to me; As was a growth on a shrub Lidia saw while we were walking along a trail and when I went to inspect what exactly it was it punished me for my invasion of its personal space? I'll say I like being in nature but I do not like nature being in me. The evil dry shrub became wedged between my skin and muscle. The result of this was a most terrible and unsightly flesh wound. It was remedied, like my ankle, with tape. I know that Lidia can attest to the fact that when faced with this awful ordeal I put on the bravest face and hiked on like a superstar. However, when I got home to tend to the wound with soap and water I don't know if the same descriptor would apply. Unless you call someone wailing and crying out in the shower with every sud that rinsed over my leg "Oh Lord why me, oh why me...." a superstar. If superstar means drama queen, which it could, then maybe.

I'm alive, until the infection sets in at least, and hope to get to Tahoe when there is snow on the ground and will try not to get an icicle stuck in anything. I will let you know how that goes.

Wak Shack

2008-09-08T23:07:00.000-07:00

I know the title implies perhaps the name of an infamous half way house in San Francisco or perhaps a brothel but that is just not true. It's the place where I received my latest haircut and I think it turned out...ok. There is nothing outstanding about this latest haircut but my news is I have found a place in San Francisco where I will safely go to get my hair done.

There's not much about me that's high maintenance but I do have a strict hair regiment. The reason for this is I come from bad hair genes and I think this in many ways traumatized me. My mother, bless her angelic heart, just has the worst hair. She could be the poster child for if your hair went to hell what it would be subjected or changed to. To kind of describe it...If you were to take the mane of 50 horses and stick it on your head and then stick your finger in a socket and dye that all the color of sooty snow that's kind of what it looks like in it's natural state. For this reason I never want to know my natural hair color and I always want it cut in a somewhat fashionable style. I accomplish this every few years but only with the help of a very talented stylist. I found this in Chicago and was terrified to give her up. I even thought to figure in quarterly flights home as part of my hair budget. What I paid for her and what I now have to pay for a trendy salon it almost works out to be the same.

As it stands I am feeling positive about this small milestone towards making this place more like home.

Golden Gate Bridge

2008-09-02T22:52:00.000-07:00

Today I talked to my recruiter. He asked me how I was and instead of asking me what I was doing told me what I should be doing.
He said, "I'm sitting here in my cubicle staring at a wall. You need to be outside. You need to be getting a tan. You need to enjoy your unemployment until the weather gets shitty."

I'm smiling on the other end of the phone nodding thinking "Yes, he is so right. I can certainly afford to be getting a tan. I have no financial obligations. In fact, why did I ever bother getting a job in the first place? Why has my job not been getting a tan all my life? He has stumbled upon the answer to all my life's questions. I can answer any thing with variations of "I should be getting a tan."

When I hung up the phone with him I looked at my taped foot looked at the sun shining outside and assessed that maybe he was kind of right. Why not take advantage, just a little? So I decided to walk a path to the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito.

Walking wasn't so awful. I took some pictures along the way and I wonder if you'll agree the one below is just so very odd.

It says "object or missle" Is that odd to just me? Why do they have to specify? Was it common at one time for people to be walking about with missiles? When did the state of California find it necessary to create Penal Code sec 2193?
"It seems a lot of people have been walking around with missles, we think they might be wanting to drop them over the side of one of our bridges. Let's make a law prohibiting this."

I would think if you wanted to drop a missle over a bridge you wouldn't so much care about Penal Codes. Just my thought.

The other sign is about the Crisis Counseling. The Golden Gate bridge is very pretty and a little majestic and it attracts a lot of jumpers. And this is kind of sad and I wouldn't be honest if I didn't tell you I morbidly thought walking across it "Will I see someone attempting to jump?" It's an awful thing for anyone to do or want to do...but I fantasized walking up to them "Wait, don't do it, you have so much to live for. I'm unemployed and going broke and I sleep on my friends couch...and...wait...let me join you?" I do think it's a little funny that the sign reminds the person who went out there to jump and die that their decision is "fatal."

Seriously though it is very sad and there's a great documentary on it. It's hard to find. The family folk at blockbuster don't rent it out and netflix has it on back rental for a few months.

But if you have the chance, it is well made.

http://www.thebridge-themovie.com/new/index.html

That's all kind of a downer. Not like in the movie Heathers where suicide is what all the cool kids do. I don't want to end with that.

Today was lovely and there were lots of kite surfers and this has to be my next endeavor. It seems so liberating to surf and fly around with a large kite. Although the guy pictured below, I saw about 20 yards from him this sea creature surfacing and going under the water. I could have been a sea lion but it could have been a shark. I wanted to shout down to him "There's a sea creature, be careful." But I feared passersby would think I was talking to a jumper and they'd think I was insensitive.

A news crew would show up and they'd report

"The jumper was about to jump and all she could think to say was some dumb warning about sea creatures. What an inhumane jerk."

This did not happen but I am inspired to look into this kite surfing...I'll let you know how that turns out.

Gimpy with the Limpy.

2008-09-01T23:40:00.000-07:00

I think that could be the name of a pornographic film but only if there was a sub sect of pornographic horror film (although I think all horror films try to incorporate some sort of pornographic feature to them)

The other day I had the pleasure of going to Lodi, CA with my roommate (funny to say that), Lidia, to meet her family for a family party they were having. This was all well and good as I got to get out of the house and see the California country side. It's like Iowa but 90 degrees warmer. Lovely.

While Lidia caught up with her adult family the youthful family (toddlers to teenagers), her cousins, set up soccer nets to play a game against each other.

I've never played soccer, not really. And when I saw them I thought "Well it'll give me something to do and they're little so it'll be fun to beat up on them and feel supremely athletic." Walking over to play I had no idea they all had been playing soccer since they were in the womb and most of them were being recruited by Manchester United.

I was quickly lost and called a cheater several times for not abiding by the rules of soccer, even in this informal setting they had rules? By far the best of them was a 9 year old boy. I made it my goal to own him cause he was a little full of himself. I wanted to prove to him that life didn't work that way. That exercising humility was a good thing thus dashing any hopes he might have for a professional soccer future.

We faced off many times and his teammate (slightly older cousin) said to me "He's going to juke all over you." Being the soccer pro that I am I said "I don't think any nine year old should be doing any such thing." Seriously I had no idea what he was talking about. I knew that I wanted to make him sorry for being a very talented young soccer player. Where did he get off feeling confident about himself and his skills? What was that about? Where were his self depreciating mannerisms?

We were again matched up when I found I had a chance to kick the ball away from him, or so I thought. I extended my left leg over my right and attempted to kick the ball with the side of my left foot, when the ball suddenly moved. I think this is where the juking came in to play. My foot landed not on the ball but smack into the ground. I knew instantaneously this was not good.

I swore a lot, and made an excuse to leave the field as quickly as possible (i.e. my drink was being watered down by the melting ice and this was not acceptable).

The long short of this is my foot; I sprained it. I think. It is bruised and swollen and it hurts. I'm saying it's sprained and not broke because without insurance a broken foot is so not fun.

Pre-broken foot I had been fantasizing about having a completely leisurely life where the purpose for my existence was to be there for my friends and to do what I pleased when I pleased. Unfortunately this is far from the case...well, I can kind of do what I please as I still have no job...but no job = no money so not much to do. So I did and do a lot of walking and exploring; this is true. This hilly city and now with my gimp foot has proved to be a bit challenging. I determined that I was going to use the walking as a form of mediation/focus/healing (more cause I like they way it sounds over than I actually think that would work or make me better) I find myself in some spots walking up the street, literally, going "jesus christ, mother whore, fucking fuck fuck fuck...does this hill ever end. why, why is there a hill, what fuck hill fuck hill why." Something like that and I'm sorry that was so graphic, but it's just very true. When i finally reach the top of a very trying hill with my foot throbbing I do a mini fist pump, point to the base of the hill and shout "yeah. who owns it. who owns it. I own it. I own all of you." it's actually a very pathetic sight to see; me sweaty and slouching down and the fist pump is more like a hand on my hip finger waggle while I suck in deep breath after deep breath relieved that with every large up hill comes a very large down hill. I do hope my foot heals quicker than later my exploring will just be not as fun any other way.

Swimming In the Bay - Public Pools Just Don't Exist Here

2008-08-29T20:35:00.000-07:00

I have a huge to do list since moving here. Getting a job, finding a place to live, making friends, discovering new things and conquering big hills. I'm wanting to accomplish this all in record time and I'm quickly realizing I'm going to have to slow down and be a little more patient. Fine.
One thing I wanted to do was find a new gym. On the scale of finding a gym and finding a job it's hard to say which carries more weight. A gym I decided takes lets effort so that wins.

My requirements I thought were simple. Clean. Yoga. Pool. Apparently you can't have all three of these in one place, in fact it doesn't seem like you can even get one in most. I was a little shocked. Everyone I met here so far works as a personal trainer and I'm not quite sure of where any of them works.

I looked first into the YMCA - but I remember from Chicago as well that this is not the neighborhood lets bring our community together type gym you would think. I know when I think YMCA I think run down kids playing a pick of game of basketball or swimming in a nice pool for free or near it. Having a membership at the Y is as expensive as many of the high end gyms, in some cases it's more expensive. I have no idea how they get away with this. And if you want to add classes like Yoga...it costs even more. So the Y you suck (until I am wealthy but am feigning being down to earth) and is off my list.

Which is sad because it's one of the few places with a pool. Pools are for some reason very hard to come by here.

I have to give a tiny nod to Chicago in that the public pools, meant for the general public are free, or for a very modest fee of $20 a season you have unlimited access to the pool in your neighborhood. The deal is amazing and where I swam at Gill Park - it was just more than ideal. When I looked into the public pools here I found that with a pass system of sorts it costs an alarming...$3.60 per swim. I know it sounds like I'm getting down on San Francisco, and that's just not so, I was just a little discouraged about pool options and I do love me some swimming.

This led me into looking into alternatives and this is when it dawned on me...the Bay. In Chicago I would swim in Lake Michigan and not much else in this world can be more gross or scary than that - currently there are reports of hemorrhaging fish with a fish strain of Ebola swimming around - doesn't get scarier. After some investigation I found a place where swimmers frequent not obviously called Aquatic Park. I saw so many swimmers in the Bay in this area it made me giddy. My first day I almost ran down the beach into the water. I calmed myself and started to look for an ideal spot to put my belongings (i.e. not around creepy tourists and while I want to believe that the homeless are all good and moral I didn't want to leave my things unattended by them either - and shush if I saw a troop of nuns I'd trust them even less). While looking for a spot I came upon a pier - the Hyde Street Pier. And I saw more swimmers entering here than anywhere. I saw that I could not get into this area. When I walked around to investigate I saw it was the Dolphin Swim Club (I had actually contacted them when I was doing my primary searches). I thought how good I can just drop by today (it was 93 degrees - very abnormally hot for this area). So drop by I did. I stooped down and walked under the pier onto their private beach. I was greeted by a lot of older men...mid 40s to mid 60s...maybe older because they were in good shape. All in speedos. The hairiest man I have ever seen approached me. I mean hairy doesn't describe it. It was as if he had covered his body in glue, shaved a couple dozen apes and rolled around in the discarded hair. In this age of evolution I don't even know how someone gets like that. I found myself staring at him looking to see if any small fish had gotten caught in his shoulder hair. This sounds so very rude, and he was so very kind spirited and funny so I apologize for that.

I asked him all very seriously "Hi, I just, I'm new here and I want to know where I go to get in the water."

He responded and justly "Where do you get in the water?! Any where."

I said "I just noticed a lot of people getting in here and I was curious about joining..."

"Well this here is our private beach and that there - he pointed to an older man - is our best swimmer. He's a veteran. Been swimming here 30 years."

And with that he walked away to check for sea life and shower - sorry...it was just out of hand.

I would so have a beer with him and ask him to braid it if he'd let me.

So I walked up to the veteran and became me and asked too many questions...

"Um, so is there a lot of sea life? Will a jelly fish eat and/or sting me? Is there a strong undertow meaning will I most likely drown..." He stared at me while I droned on standing hip deep in the water and he said "Look, you're young, you're healthy, what do you care about any of that. Put your goggles on and swim."

I thought, ok, he's right and I did just that. Starting my swim he stopped me and said "Hey, I'm swimming this route we do and you can join me if you want."

I didn't give it any thought and said "Ok."

Off we went. To the end of a large boat, to the left to a red sail boat, another left to a flag on a buoy to the left and back to the pier we came in from. About a mile. I loved every bit of it, when I thought about it I was terrified doing every bit of it.

I kept swallowing itty bits of salt water and I kept thinking of this documentary I saw about a group of sailors whose ship capsized in the ocean. Some of them became delirious with thirst and drank the salt water which drove them mad and wound up killing them. I kept thinking I would go mad and try to take up residence on a buoy no one would save me and I'd marry a sea lion or at least try to mate with one at some point. But no such thing happened. I made it back and my very kind and cool guide - John showed me around the Dolphin Swim Club.

It has a very old and earthy feel. No frills locker rooms that seemed like home.

They have rowing and kayaking and it's all very chill and I liked it. I swam there today as well and had another frightening and exhilarating experience. The one club member told me that the water has been nice - 62 degrees - but it gets down to around 47 or so and when I asked if I'd need a wetsuit he responded "Wet suits are for wienies." I think I may have to make a slight investment and be called a wienie, but I'm ok with that. We'll see how it goes. For the moment I'm going to get a little sappy and feel a little awesome by getting to maybe swim with a club with as many great people as the Dolphins.

http://www.dolphinclub.org/

First Run - The Hills

2008-08-29T19:58:00.000-07:00

A big part of me being here is tackling the terrain. Living in Chicago the running is great, but it's also so very flat, which makes it kind of predictable? Although the intense swings in weather make it very challenging.
I'm excited to get out and try out the new ground so one of my first days here that is exactly what I did.

I thought that when I was running along the bay that the sea lion pictured above was a sea monster. I don't know why sea monster's aren't really in existence but they should be.

Sea monsters aside the hills here are rough and I think that makes me weak my underdeveloped Midwestern muscles...but I noticed something. No one walks here. I'm known to do a little walking and here I thought I'd see crowds of people walking and it's just not so. The city is so small and everyone takes the bus or drives. One population I do see walking about everywhere is the (and I apologize if this sounds rude? but it's just an observation) is the Asian population. They are walking all over this town and then there's me. I'm determined to own these hills; it's very likely that I'm the one that will get owned but if I don't give in I suspect my ass and thighs will thank me loads in the long run. And at the end of the day it's all about having a nice ass and slim thighs, or so I'm told. I will let you know as soon as I get a bus card or a scooter - they seem to be popular as well and I have so always wanted a scooter. It's very European and sexy which is what everyone wants to be. And if I stick with this walking I will be sexy and will then let you know what adult website I am posting my sexy pictures on - as I still need a job and this could be a way to earn some income.

Chinatown

2008-08-28T22:52:00.001-07:00

First of all I do realize the picture to the left is a little disturbing but it's also so very morbidly curious. That's why I took it and that's why I'm talking just a little bit about it.

I was walking from the Financial District to North Beach and I decided to stroll through the heart of Chinatown. Now I know, I know it's going to seem culturally insensitive but it's not that. I'm a curious gal and this was curious. I'm walking along and am fascinated by all the shops. There's a Chinatown in Chicago but it's kind of out of the way so I never frequented it. Also in NYC the only thing I would do in Chinatown was scrounge around Canal street for cheap goods, which is such a fun thing to do. Knockoff Ray Bans for $5 is so amazing I don't know what else to say about it...

All that aside...I'm walking through Chinatown mesmerized by all the awesomeness; just dried goods and crazy herb shops - which all the shops in Chinatown that carry these goods smell like containers of dried fish flake food. This is what I've determined. I also determined because of a childhood incident this is why I won't live in Chinatown as the memory is utterly traumatizing.

When I was a youngster - about 4? We had a "family" fish tank. In which we kept exotic fish such as goldfish, guppies and .05 snails. High class, top of the line stuff. We even had a filter...I think? Any how while away at school for the day my little brother decided to deposit the entire contents of the fish flake food into the tank and the very intelligent goldfish gorged themselves to death and when we returned from the school day they were all found floating. It was sad and and hard lesson learned that goldfish are dumb pets.

OK - this is great and even more traumatizing. I just went to find a picture of a goldfish and came across the most informative site. Apparently my childhood fish were bloated and constipated and resting while they relieved themselves of too much gas and food. Being ignorant fish owners we flushed them so I just now found out we murdered perfectly good goldfish. A whole $.70 worth down the drain. I want to go back 24 years and scream "STOP - they are constipated and when the gas passes everything is going to be fine. They will compose themselves and never gorge again."

Goldfish are apparently not the dumbest pets. In fact I think if I over ate instead of hitting the gym to remedy the situation it would be desirable to play dead for three days while my bloating and guilt over stuffing myself silly subsided.

http://hubpages.com/hub/STOP-Your-Pet-Fish-May-Not-Be-Dead

My whole point was while living on Sheridan, my old Chicago street I was never so fortunate to see bloated piggies being unloaded into underground holding cells (I'm not sure where they were putting the pigs or what exactly they were going to do with them). I was privy to bar fights at all hours and a great cast of homeless people but you can get that anywhere so that's why I took the picture.

End of story, or that story.

Goodbye Focus - Hello Roommates

2008-08-27T09:05:00.000-07:00

I returned the Focus and settled into my new living space. Which I would like to take a moment to be a bit sappy and say that my hosts - Lidia and Dapri - are truly amazing one of a kind people. I am still shaking my head wondering exactly when they are going to throw me out the window. Will it be while I'm sleeping? Will they change the locks? Move while I'm out? Until this day I am grateful that they are sharing their home with me. Wonder if in a few weeks I'll still use the word grateful? or if they'll still say things like "don't worry, take your time, it's not a problem..."

I feel like future posts will be titled "We All Want Each Other to Die." and "Keep a Quiet House: Infuse Soap with Sedatives."

Until then I say Thank you to them.

Public Storage

2008-08-27T08:47:00.000-07:00

My first night in San Francisco I ate, drank, and passed out before I could let anything sink in, like I'm not on vacation, I'm making a home here.

When I woke the next day I had to return my rental car. I had grown an affection for it and was trying to find ways to buy it. I had walked down the street past an adult club that boasted "Amateur night $500 cash prize." I told the focus I'd find a way even if this had to be the way to be with it. I mean I had left my inhibitions and morals in Chicago anyhow as there was no room for them in my "mid-size" car.

Sadly, amateur night was on Monday and I only had till Saturday evening to make a decision about the car so to public storage I went to unload my things so I could return it.

Lidia (my hostess, my family while I'm here) accompanied me to help - as if she needed to help more than she all ready has. Crazy girl.

After many computer complications and some odd conversations with the PS manager we were given keys and a lock and my closet sized storage locker locale. I opened the door and was a little saddened to think I had reduced my life to a closet and a little liberated. I liked that Public Storage provided me a house warming gift so I wouldn't feel too bad about the whole thing; a packet of rodent repellent. The true comforts of home - seriously it reminded me of all my past Chicago apartment and I wanted to cry.

Packing all my stuff into my storage locker I thought it ridiculous some of the things that I had to have. For instance, I think it's a nice touch that I had to have my bowling pin (seen in picture lower left) from Southport Lanes. A great guy Ed helped me one drunken and very snowy night acquire this treasure. I had always planned on leaving it in on their doorstep with a note "Sorry I hope you didn't miss me, but I'm back!" but thought that was just dumb, not as dumb as borrowing a bowling pin dumb, but dumb.

I80 (Day 3) - California

2008-08-27T08:41:00.000-07:00

I drove through the rest of Nevada in a blind fury. I determined if I was pulled over again for speeding I would take off running through the desert to start my true nomad life. Luckily I didn't have to do this and with the sun setting I rolled into California.

As it was Friday I was greeted with traffic which made me feel more at home than I had felt over the past few days to be honest. I reached the Bay Bridge shortly after 7:30pm pacific time and smiled through the fog and $4 toll.

I thought not bad. Not bad at all.

And so my life here started...kind of? I'll of course let you know.

Total Miles Driven: 2,770
Total Gas Charges: $307 and change
Total Car Rental Fee: $607 and change

I-80 (Day 3) - Nevada - (Leg 3)

2008-08-27T08:17:00.000-07:00

Nevada was strange and beautiful in it's own way. I was digging the desert landscape. Short green shrubbery atop of sandy brown looking earth and mountains. After hours of driving with the sun beating on me I became quickly sick of it. There's a vastness there that wasn't anywhere else. All the other places I'd see a farm a cow, something to symbolize some sort of civilization - be it carnival people or farm hands were near...here it seemed that nothing stretched for 40 miles in every direction. Very cool and a little scary.

My best stop in Nevada was at the Flying J - a chain of sorts but there were slots. I'm not a gambler (I'm thinking of that awful song and that sucks - but he is a gambler in it...) but I put a dollar in the slot while waiting to pay for buffalo wing flavored snyder pretzels (these are great) and won $7. I felt with such luck I should venture into the real casino - which was through a glass door and around the corner from the gas station shop with the slots.

I wandered in and found my way to Wheel of Fortune - again I have no idea how to play so I put in a quarter and start pressing buttons. This apparently works because I'm gaining credits and am allowed to sit longer. A woman approaches me and I'm pressing button and asks "Girl, are you old enough to gamble?" I laugh at this a little but she's serious; I mean did my hello kitty t-shirt give me away? I told her "You got me. I skipped school today and drove to the middle of the desert to feed my quarter slot gambling addiction." When I handed her my ID she looked at me and it several times before saying "You just never know is all."

It's then that I surveyed the area. I saw people with vacant eyes slumped forward with packs of cigarettes or slouched backward and maneuvering their button pressing in a much more effective way than mine. All the men and women looked the same to me, like really bad strung out beaten up versions of Willie Nelson. I thought I didn't fit and cashed out ($3 dollars). I loved that the cashier was wearing an oxygen tank in the smoke filled room it added a certain charm you don't find in our smokeless cities anymore.

I had one more stop. When I exited the Flying J I saw something that I had not seen the whole trip down 80W until this point. A coffee house. An honest to gosh coffee house. It said "Bellas Espresso House." I couldn't believe it and immediately made my way there.

They made an amazing cup of coffee, an amazing sandwich, and they offered gentlemen services all under one roof. I think that's perfect. I almost asked (ok, I did ask but there were only hiring counter help...thinking what that might entail now that I'm thinking of it...) if there were any job openings because I couldn't foresee life getting better than that. I left all dreams of becoming a barista with benefits behind and continued on towards California...

I-80 (Day 3) - Utah (Leg 3)

2008-08-26T00:13:00.000-07:00

Utah is a beautiful state even though I was in the uglier part of it. It smelled like rotten eggs. This is no joke. It was the oddest thing. And it's sad I mean I would be lovely if you could say "My home town, just smells like baked apples." When does that ever happen?

I woke and got on the road early. I wanted to stop at the Salt Flats and the Bonneville Speedway (Salt Flat where every year some land speed record or another is broken).

Stop 1. Salt Flats. It's so blindingly white. And I was so tempted to lick the ground to see how salty it really was. I was terrified of getting some odd bacteria and did not attempt any ground licking...although I hope to remedy this some day.

Stop 2. Bonneville Speedway. About 6 miles off of 80W. This was by far the most bizarre stop on my trip...well, almost.

It was strange. The 6 mile stretch from 80 to the "entrance" I saw trailers or mobile homes. And they were lined all along the highway on the salt flats. People had clothes drying and lawn chairs and grills set up. It looked like a carnival people's outpost to be honest. There were also tents set up all along the flats. They didn't look big enough to hold a dog let alone a person but there were several so I suspect there were very small people - (suspicion was confirmed by the amount of small 20s and 30s cars I saw being driven along the road as well - so small only miniature type people could be occupying them.). It really was surreal. I wanted to take pictures but thought they'd come after me with being "insensitive" for documenting the "odd freakishness" of the whole thing.

When I reached the end of this 6 mile stretch there was a small tent set up with orange cones around it (kind you'd buy at Walgreen's- serious). And there was a family: mom, dad, small boy - asking for $5 so you could park and/or drive around on the speedway.

I thought "is this legal? does the state of Utah sanction this?" I didn't care so much to ask so I parked before I reached them looked around and left. It was for sure strange and mildly interesting, but not $5 worth of interesting.

Pictured above was the pay "entrance" to the what? national park? Who knows. I do know Nevada was my next destination...

I-80 (Day 2) - Wyoming/SLC (Leg 2)

2008-08-25T23:59:00.000-07:00

There's not much to say about Wyoming.

It's a beautiful state - I don't think it gets nearly enough credit.

I liked the windmill farms (By the way on the farm I saw one of those old metal windmills in the center of a field and I asked "Why are those out there anyhow?" and I was given a matter of fact dead pan "How else is the water supposed to get pumped to water the cows." Priceless and ingenious it's like getting through a lifetime without knowing that cows sleep lying down; until I was 17 I thought they did this standing... More love to the farm.) I know there is nothing majestic to them, but I want to buy a wind farm. In fact when I ever get around to interviewing and if asked my long term goals "Where do you see yourself in 5 years." I honestly have to reply "I see myself living on and running a wind farm getting by on government subsidies and maybe buying a cow or two."

No one ever says anything like that. We're all so lame "Well I think maybe I'd like to work on a challenging project, manage a team...blah."

Wind farms - I love them (an aside this MP shot was a little scary. A truker was pulled over along side me doing something strange with a hose.)

I have many more pictures of Wyoming but will leave them out here. I drove to my the most lovely bed in Salt Lake City, Utah...I wish I could have slept in that bed for days, it was divine...

I-80 (Day 2) - Nebraska (Leg 2)

2008-08-25T23:20:00.000-07:00

After a lovely house welcoming I laid my head down and slipped into some sort of concious/unconcious state.
I woke to the smell of pancakes, sausage, coffee... I think heaven might smell similar.
I was asked if the coyotes kept me awake; having lived next to the "L" I think the quiet keeps me awake.
I could go on and on why this place, these people (Joyce and Del) were so amazing but I want to just highlight some key things.

First I was given a tour of town. I think town entails a mailbox, a flag pole, and a building that dispenses 50lb blocks of salt - which are used for something so awesome I can only describe it with pictures, and I will.
Del took me around in a pickup and we drove through fields (where I saw a badger and was given the craziest history I've heard about a woman who lived in the side of a hill and was given land in return - why this still doesn't happen upsets me - I'd live in a hill).

Del and I.

We drove around quite some time before we came upon these elusive cows but when we found them and delivered the salt the below occurred and it was awesome.

I can't convey how bad ass this was. I've never seen anything like it. I want to work as a farm hand.

After this I was dropped off at school. I got to spend time with Joyce's 3rd grade class. This consisted of 9 children. The 2nd grade class has 3 children. That's madness. Mark Prior and I took a picture as proof positive it was really so. These kids were very cool. They knew crazy farm stuff and asked me if I had ever seen a cow because I grew up in Chicago. I thought to get into Chicago's slaughterhouse history but thought better... although I have a feeling it would probably bother me more than them.

Before I left I went back to the farm to pick up my car and take one last look around, although I hope I can go back for a visit some day sooner than later.
>

I drove out around noon and wish I didn't have the rental car so I could have stayed the night.
Leaving at noon with an agenda of driving to Salt Lake City I decided open road open speed limit. The state of Nebraska doesn't agree with this train of thought.
Before the state line I was pulled over for driving 85 in a 75.
I'm not the crying type and I wish I was but I was too tired to bring the helpless girl act so I sat there as an upstanding officer told me "Mam, herrr in Nebrahska we enforce the speed laws through voluntary compliance. Mam, you will voluntary comply to drive the speed limit by me issuing you a citation."
I said "Officer, I'm having a bad life and this isn't a good time. This is a rental and I'm unemployed. Issuing me that citation means I will voluntarily lie in the middle of the highway."
He didn't think this was funny and said if I wasn't ok to drive it was my right to sit on the side of the highway for as long as I liked.
It's nice to know you have the right to sit any where in the wide open that you'd like for as long as you like.
A $119 citation and 20 minutes of sitting on the side of the highway later and I made my way towards Wyoming.

I-80 (Day 1) - Nebraska (Leg 1)

2008-08-24T23:19:00.000-07:00

My first day I had a very specific goal. I wanted to make it to Hayes Center, NE. A friend from Chicago grew up on a farm there and with just one mention that I might be able to stay there on my journey had me sold.

I set my sights on the 808 mile, 13 hour drive.

Nebraska - is a long state. It is long and it is flat and boring. It did have a very cool sunset. A big red sun in a big open sky.

To get to the farm you have to veer off of I-80 about 50 miles south. In the wee hours of the night this was interesting. 110 mph was not fast enough and I had no idea I would encounter,turkey vultures (big carnivorous birds? at 12:30 am they were man eaters I was certain)that flew out from the side of the road and were the size of small sharp toothed children. That and families, correction, herds of deer that seemed to not be terrified of the turkey vultures that were feasting on their departed or my fast approaching headlights.

50 miles, a dirt road and a light in the distance later I found myself at the farm. The best place in all of Nebraska I am certain. I was met by Del and Joyce my hosts and I am convinced that I could be convinced to take up residence as hired farm help in their town...but that's a story for day 2.

(Turkey vultures not photographed - but they are there)

I-80 (Day 1) - Iowa (Leg 1)

2008-08-24T22:55:00.000-07:00

I left at 11:30am, hopped on 55-South and quickly approached the I-80W exit. My journey was beginning. I had decided (before I knew I had Sirius Radio) that I would need some company and the only thing worthy (that I gave up my toaster to take along) was Mark Prior - the bobblehead ( I was told by a 6th grade CPS teacher this has a derogatory meaning - but I mean it in the he's a little plaster man with a wobbly cranium (i know you wanted me to say head - dirty minds)). There will be pictures of him where I could have none of me. I think that's a fair trade off.

Mark Prior did not take this photo I did. That's why you can't see me. I tried to drive safely and taking pictures of ones self while driving isn't the safest thing to do. Oh well.

Driving out I was sure would be uneventful, that is until I made my first stop for gas at the World's Largest Truck Stop.

It was nothing short of amazing. An amusement park for truckers. This concept is brilliant, it's the next best idea next to a mullet hair cut.

Of course there are pictures to document the 9th wonder of the world.

Gas at the Truck Stop was $3.739 per gallon and cost me $26.45 at this stop (for some reason this is a big source of curiousity what gas cost me - so it will be relayed throughout.)

I made one more stop for gas in Iowa. $3.439 and a total of $23.34.
That was Iowa. Not fun.

Journey down I-80 West - the Departure

2008-08-24T21:31:00.000-07:00

I decided to take the most direct route from Chicago to San Francisco. That is I-80 West. There is no thought to it at all no maps no fuss. You drive until the highway ends which is the Bay Bridge in San Francisco on the western end.

My journey started on August 20th 2008 - Wednesday. I rented a car from Alamo car rental (one of only two (they are partnered with National) that do cross country rentals (i.e. you can drop the car off at your destination). I asked for a mid-sized car and when I went to pick it up the guy told me he would do me a favor and get me something that was a little bigger than a mid-size vehicle. I was very excited to hear this as I wondered how I would possibly fit a lifetime of possessions in a 4-door car. I had already eliminated so much, "Do I really need my cowboy hat? Can I possibly fit my hobo-cart in the trunk..." decisions like this made me feel like moving is not a thing anyone should ever do. I stayed strong and found myself looking at things saying: doesn't matter, who really needs it, and why did I ever own this? I was left with what I thought a reasonable collection of "necessities." And with my > mid-size rental I could maybe bring some extras like my couch.

You can't imagine my delight when I saw my rental was a Ford Focus (this wound up being a great car - it drove well, it got great gas mileage, and it was comfortable). I thought to myself well, then the compact car was surely a bicycle with basket and an economy was a golf cart. The Focus is not very roomy and this is an understatement. My father - usually a man of too many words only said "you're not going to fit a lot in that." My extras became things like my toothbrush and floss.

I had to eliminate things left and right from my well planned out pile of goods. No wall art, half my shoes, half my clothes, my collection of vibrators and assorted whips; and my beloved hobo cart...no way. I panicked and contemplated asking for a full sized SUV because in the wake of having to eliminate everything I thought if I can't take my whips I don't want to take anything.

In the end I made some hard choices - there will be plenty of vibrators and whips in San Francisco for purchase.

I look unhappy but it's only because 1. I had sweated so much from packing my car I couldn't sport my Mr. T tee for the ride - I pitied my sweaty pits. 2. I didn't yet discover the Focus had Sirius Radio - which I know I'm 10 years behind on this phenom, but it was seriously fun for me.

Favorite Stations -

Sirius 9 - The Pulse (so poppy, so good)

Sirius 18 - The Spectrum (again, gluttonous and awful)

Sirius 21 - Altnation

Sirius 26 - Left of Center (my favorite)

Sirius 198 - Playmate Station - this is more amusing than you can possibly imagine - or most of you can imagine. An hour of two former playmates interviewing a current playmate on her role in a new film:

"How was shooting?"

"It was such a hard day at work - I had to wear stripper shoes and a onesy for the whole shoot - for the WHOLE day."

Really, if my day started and ended with getting paid to hang out in a onesy I could honestly drop dead tomorrow and call it a life.

Leaving Chicago

2008-08-24T21:07:00.000-07:00

Just one short week ago I decided to leave Chicago, my home, my heart. Sounds dramatic but it's the simplest way to put it. I've said to people that I lived in Chicago and it lived in me. Its a city but to me it was so much more, it was my life. I immersed myself in every facet of Chicago. I walked (many of you know what exactly me and walking entails - if its 10 miles or less it's walkable), breathed, and experienced everything Chicago had to offer and this is putting it lightly.
With a lot of reasons but no real good reason and I guess if you examine anything there never is a right reason to do anything; I left Chicago. I took with me what I could fit in my rental car and headed west to San Francisco. I picked up a book recommended to me and in it there was an inscription penned by Oscar Wilde:

"It's an odd thing, but anyone who disappears is said to be seen in San Francisco. It must be a delightful city and possess all the attractions of the next world"

It seems a fitting quote to start this whole adventure; which I will lovingly chronicle for all of you who can't be here to share it with me. And you all know it's what you've always wanted from me. More pointless rambling. But at least you'll be up to date on all I do. I lived the most ridiculous life in Chicago and I can't imagine what's going to happen here...I can say that I'm excited and I look forward to the bad, the worse, and the worst.