YEAH, he does.

Environmentalism in the workplace

Manager to employee who wants our office to be more green:

"We can compost and things in our own homes, but we don't want to focus our manpower here at work on it and distract from our priorities like our jobs, which always come first..."

On Visiting Oklahoma

Ten pounds of gravy weight later, twelve mosquito bites and counting, and a tan fit to beat the band, my trip to Oklahoma to visit family is official...I currently have so much sweet tea in my system I'm sweating sugar, I spent ten hours by my aunt's pool yesterday crushing ants with my bare toes and slurping pink lemonade, and woke to a thunderstorm this morning that passed through within seconds to wreak havoc elsewhere. Tornados are on every channel (I don't remember all this live footage back when I was running for cellars!), I haven't seen shoes in two days, and the heat is almost as intense as the whirring air conditioners. I'm scratching browned legs, devouring entire loaves of amish bread (I'm bringing the recipe home! Althought it turns out it takes ten days to make, so maybe my excitement was premature), and this morning nodded off in church while the pastor roared from the pulpit.

It's good to be home...

Lisa's father on S & M

"If two married, consenting adults want to run around naked throwing oranges at each other, that's their choice!"

Mark your calendars! June 6 is fast approaching!

Seriously. My birthday. In TWO WEEKS. And in case you were curious, I totally LOVE getting gifts.

I see one movie a year, but I see it twice.

Just because I am going to see Iron Man again does NOT mean I am obsessed with Robert Downey, Jr.'s shoulders. I just happen to appreciate fine cinema, that's all...

It was just a hypothetical, of course.

Um...NO, I don't color my hair. This is, uh, all natural, baby! I just meant I need a colorist for a FRIEND. A close friend. Who was too embarrassed to ask herself.

Totally.

Help!!

I need a new colorist! EVERYBODY PANIC! Do you have someone that you know and love that you can recommend??

Beta Breakers

I remember the first time I heard talk of Bay to Breakers. I kept thinking for the longest time everyone was saying 'Beta Breakers,' and I just figured this was a marathon benefitting, uh, science. Or something. I also couldn't understand why everyone and their mother wanted to either be in it or be watching it. Like, really? You're all jazzed about science out here in San Francisco?

Then I saw a bill for it, and it was those huge epiphany moments, seeing the name in print. Everything made SO MUCH MORE SENSE. It's BAY. TO. BREAKERS. Get it?? From the San Francisco Bay to Ocean Beach?? PEOPLE! Do you get it?? Isn't that clever?? BAY TO BREAKERS!

The clever name still didn't, however, reveal why the fuss, why the excitement, why the constant questions of 'Are you doing Bay to Breakers??' Please note the use of verb here. It's not 'Are you running Bay to Breakers,' it's 'Are you doing Bay to Breakers.' Because unless you're one of the rare weirdos who actually want to race it, it's assumed you're one of the weirdos who want to walk it, in costume, pulling a keg. Oh, yes. It's better than the Castro at Halloween in terms of naked men wearing leaves, it's better than Carnivale when it comes to masses more colorfully outfitted than peacocks, and it's better than FlugTag in terms of 'best parade you will ever see.' You'll see togas, butterfly wings, deejays spinning on street corners, and an entire group dressed as Smurfs, pulling a giant mushroom with hoses coming out dispensing beer, and a turntable on top for a dreadlocked deejay. 

Welcome to the biggest party in San Francisco. And it's not for science.

I can't put my finger on it, but there may be a better way to put this:

"Do report telephonically to the office immediately if you have access to a phone."

San Francisco's Annual Menopause

I love it. I love love love it. When the weather in San Francisco decides to be 'hot'--and I don't mean 75-and-everybody-whines hot, I mean 85-and-everybody-whines hot, I mean 'warm in the shade' hot, I mean 'warm when you open your Token Windy Window' hot--I mean 'warm when the sun goes down' hot. And you know what happens? EVERYBODY FLIPS OUT. Granted, it only happens three days a year. But every single time, it shocks our pants off and it is the topic of every conversation, as though this is Reminiscent of the Great Heat Wave of '87. In every restaurant, every bar, people are fanning themselves, moaning, as though they haven't seen anything of the likes of this in all their days. I remember four years ago, when the annual hot flash was an entire six days long. SIX FULL DAYS. People went bonkers. They totally lost their minds. Fans sold out at Walgreen's within the day and you would have thought the end was near. Keep in mind that San Francisco housing has no air conditioning units. None. We are woefully unequipped for weather that doesn't cool in the evenings, or by not being able to cool ourselves by merely standing outside. We have lost our ability to cope with heat.

Tonight is no exception. Day One of our Three Day Hot Flash, people are already moaning, "And can you believe tomorrow is going to be even hotter??", as though they are not secretly overjoyed to pull out that dress or that linen shirt at last.

I love it. There is nothing like this collective, sweaty, joyfully-complaining unity to bring a city together...

Leave it to the Greeks

I'm not kidding--you have to check this out. This is definitely like no first aid I've ever tried...but I'm willing to give anything a whirl once!

Covered in puke, and asleep on my feet

No, that's totally cool. I would love to take two hours worth of public transportation to get your house, where you will leave me with your sick, head-colded, ear-achey 42-week-old so you can attend your party. A poor, sick child who will projectile-vomit her rice dinner all over the hallway, my pants, my arm, and her poor little face in a total exorcist moment, leading me to promptly draw a bath and burn her clothing. Then, when that pleasure is complete, the poor child will spend the remainder of her night screaming and clutching her precious teacup ears in agonized pain while I would do anything to make her feel better, up to and including turning the bathroom into a steam room (this helped) and singing an endless version of The Girl from Ipanema (this helped a lot). You know as well as I do that this suffering child will not be going to bed at the recommended 8 o'clock, nor will you be arriving home early. But you know what? Honestly, all of the above? TOTALLY FINE. Really. I know we can't always anticipate sickness, and I do so love the smell of your baby's neck and melt when she laughs and who cares if my clothing is crusty and my ponytail is congealed with the drool from a slobbery grip, or that my face has been dampened by sneezes all night. All this, it's actually okay, not a big deal, I'll survive. You needed the break, and I can spare a few hours. But really, what hurts? The fact that you forgot I was, you know, kind of a human. The fact that you dropped your baby in my arms the second I walked in the door, while I was still wearing my jacket, bag, and boots. Woman, can I at least take off the shoes I wore all day during my 8 to 5 job? And don't worry about leaving me any food--eating is totally passe for grown-ups. And you were gracious enough not to make me use your car to drive you to your party so you would only have to cab it one-way, which was part of your original plan. You will happy to note this, however: the baby-bouncing machine you rented tonight? Used to play drums in college. And guess who else is a natural percussionist? Your darling little girl. I was amazed at how quickly she learned the pleasure of self-created cacophony. I think you'll enjoy her gift--she can go for HOURS.

Starcraft

When you hear 'Starcraft,' what do you think of? If you are like me, you immediately envision something exciting, thrilling, otherworldly, maybe a vehicle to another dimension, maybe a portal, maybe starry adventures in the Great Beyond.

But you would be wrong. Starcraft is a roofing subcontractor from Oakland. And unless they are building portals to other dimensions on those rooftops...I feel more than a little cheated.

I'm tempted to write them a strongly worded letter. Or maybe to start checking out their work under the cover of darkness to see what they're REALLY up to...

NOW you believe me.

Are you sure your dentist appointment is on Wednesday?

It's in the company calendar, my outlook calendar, and my personal calendar for Wednesday.

But I wrote it down as Tuesday.

You also sent an email to the entire department saying it was Wednesday.

Oh. It must be Wednesday, then.

The dangers of an unmaintained relationship, by Seinfeld

I was watching Seinfeld tonight on my computer, and Elaine relates the following story:

“There’s this guy who lives in my building who I was introduced to a couple years ago. He’s a teacher or something. Anyway, after we met, whenever we’d run into each other in the street or in the lobby or whatever, we would stop and chat a little bit. Nothing much. Little pleasantries. He’s a nice guy. He’s got a family. Then after a while, I noticed there was no more stopping, just saying hello and continuing on our way. And then the verbal hellos stopped and we just went into these little sorts of nods of recognition. So fine, I figure, that’s where this relationship is finally gonna settle. Polite nodding. Then one day, he doesn’t nod. Like I don’t exist? He went from nods to nothing. Now there’s this intense animosity whenever we pass. I mean, it’s like we really hate each other. It’s based on nothing.”

Jerry in response: "A relationship is an organism. You created this thing, and then you starved it, so it turned against you. Same thing happened in 'The Blob.'"

but feel free to take your own.

"Nobody under the influence of alcohol or drugs will be permitted to drive a Company vehicle."

say what?

I'm currently editing the company's vehicle policy, and came across the following:

"Only Company employees are allowed to drive the vehicle. Keys must be removed from ignition at all times."

Who knew Rudyard had it in him?

I just saw this on Dinana's blog, and-despite being poetry--I really loved it. (I think the rhyming helps this simple soul.) Reproduced here for you:


If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it.

Rudyard Kipling

I JUST MET MAGGIE!

I'm not gonna lie: I'm freaking about to wet my twittering pantalones. How twittering minimizes a city:

Me to Tanya at local wine-and-dessert lounge: "Hold on, I'm Twittering."

Maggie (who I twitter-stalk) twitters: " Tasting menu at the new neighborhood dessert bar. Stranger next to us just said, "Hold on, I'm Twittering."

Me (gets Maggie's twitter via Lea Ann a minute after leaving said dessert bar), beelines straight back: "Host! Find me a Maggie somewhere in that corner!"

Host (after a confused look): "Do you want to go look for her yourself?"

Me: "I haven't actually met her."

Host (even more confused look): "...Okay."

... and some research: "There is your Maggie."

Me, about to trip over my feet to get to her: "Holy crap, Maggie, I worship your twitterground. I freaking twitterstalk you."

Me: ..more embarrassing confessions...

Me: ...more embarrassing know-too-much-about-Maggie-confessions...

Maggie: (pretending not to be freaked out; very gracious)

Me: (trying not to lick her face in excitement; she is my twittermessiah)

Maggie: (still pretending not to be freaked out at the girl trembling with excitement before her; very gracious) "Maybe we'll see you around the neighborhood sometime!"

Me, still about to pee my twitterpants: Uh huh! Yeah! For sure!

Me: (trying to leave her to her private evening while secretly wanting to climb into her lap, never to leave again, wanting to shriek, "Let's be bff's!") Leaves bar, trying to maintain long-gone composure...

Maggie twitters: " Holy shit. Small city. Turns out Sherona was the stranger who was Twittering. Sherona is the nicest "stalker" in town."

I think we're going to be SUPER close friends. I can tell. I wonder if she needs a nanny...

Romance, Sarcasm, Math, and Language

Just when you thought you'd tapped the internet's interest level, you discover xkcd, a webcomic of 'romance, sarcasm, math, and language.' (And by 'discover,' I mean, 'someone super rad sends you the link and you wonder how you survived so long without it.')

The comic that launched a thousand ships:


Regarding why I am so confused by love:


And these are only the tip of the iceberg...I can tell I'm now going to be that annoying blogger who spends hours recreating a website by posting its entire contents here.

Moving to Paper

So I just got a long overdue new cell phone. It was necessary to replace the one held together by rubber bands and tape, the one that two days ago started making gurgling noises instead of its normal beeps and rings, the one whose alarm clock officially quit alarming and instead started doing its best imitation of a drunken whale, leading me to finally break down and fulfill my free upgrade. Despite the fact that I'd rather send messages via homing pigeon than deal with a salesman in a red polo shirt trying to sell me the latest and greatest must-have mobile, it was time.

But I've done it. I spent an hour of my life saying 'no, thank you,' while continuing to point at the cheapest model (my exact same phone, except it has now progressed into a slimmer, more bulletlike design). I eventually won my battle, they transferred my data, and then I get home and realize...my calendar of appointments is gone. Just like that. My plans for tonight/tomorrow/this weekend/next month? WHO KNOWS. If we have plans coming up, please email me and let me know. Otherwise, many apologies in advance. I didn't mean to stand you up.

Lesson learned: keep a hard calendar. So I am now in the market for one, and want advice. Do any of you use a paper calendar? What have you found works for you, in terms of style, layout, size, etc.? As a paper whore, style will play a key role, but I am flexible when it comes to ultimate practicality. I don't want a huge dayplanner or anything--something thin and sleek would be nice. Please tell me what you use and what you like about it and where you got it!

Conversation at Verizon store today

What's your name?
Sharona.
Hi! I'm Dave.
Hi.
So...are you here getting a new cell phone? I'm here getting a battery charger.
Yes, a new phone.
Want to get together sometime? How about you give me your number?
I don't give it out, sorry. Besides, I think they're changing the number when they switch out my phone.
Then just give me your current number. They probably won't change it.
It's 410-3776. [Note: this is not my number.]
Great! I'll text you right now...what did you say your name was again?
Kristie.
Oh, right! Can't believe I forgot. Dave.
Right. Well, nice to meet you.
I'll call you!
You do that.

Two lovely moments in one quiet yesterday

Moment 1: A trail of bubbles from bathtub to bed.

Moment 2: Baby Timothy's breath on my neck when he fell asleep on my shoulder after feeding. Those tiny puffs of air as he exhaled nearly killed me. I do love them Ko babies...