I'm teaching my mom how to blog

hi All! This is where I'm teaching my mom how to post blogs. I'm now going to add a picture to help.

My mom is pretty technically savvy for a *ahem* fifty-nine year old woman but she's been asking me about these blogs that are so popular with the kids these days. She'll ask about something like blogging or myspace or ipods and I'll try to explain it to her and then she'll put it down and I throw up my hands in despair of trying and then she'll ask a little later and I'll explain it again. Sometimes I feel like this even though it's nothing like that.

Living at home with the rents I'm the new tech support person: they both have their respective offices and work at their computers all day long. You can see their webpages here and here. So they're not dumbasses (like me; I'm a big dissapointment in so many ways).


God I feel horrible today: just a general sense of malaise. My parents, sister and I went out to dinner last night at a great restaurant here in San Francisco. It has some of the best apple pie a la mode I've ever had. I wasn't hungry when we went but I had dinner and finally the apple pie for dessert.

I then stayed up past midnight playing SIMS 2. I dreampt anxiety dreams about SIMS all night and woke up this morning feeling like crap. I've put on three pounds of water weight and am so not hungry. I never want to eat again. And I'm tired and surrounded by all my worldly posessions; literally; they're all over the floor. I'm moving on Saturday and have only a handfull of things I need to do by then:

Finish packing
visit the Jelly Belly factory in Fairfield today
Meet my dad for a steak lunch tomorrow
Hang out with my friend Krissy in Chinatown on Friday
Have a family dinner on Friday night

These are all fun things that I look forward to. C'mon coffee: do your stuff!

I'm An Asshole

What is a blog? It's a place to write about whatever you feel like writing about. On this blog, I hoped to write about celebrity gossip and to complain. I've done a little and a lot of both. And sometimes, I write about things that make me look like a flaming asshole. Then, my beloved readers tell me that I'm an asshole and I feel bad.

But should I apologize for what I post on my blog? I mean, deep down: I mean what I say. If I say something horrible, it must mean that I meant it at some time and it's a part of me. Maybe I just hadn't had my cup of morning coffee yet.

These blogs feature spell check but not social filter.

Helping Disabled Kids

You know what helps disabled kids more than horses? Real job skills like typing, computers and learning how to pound a nail. Look how far knowing how to ride a horse got Paris Hilton.

May 29, 2006
Shatner: Horses Can Help Disabled Kids
Filed at 4:47 p.m. ET

JERUSALEM (AP) -- The captain who dared to ''boldly go where no man has gone before'' has targeted a new destination: William Shatner believes he can contribute to Middle East peace by helping disabled children through horseback riding.

The former ''Star Trek'' actor was in Israel on Monday to promote ''therapeutic riding.'' He hopes to raise $10 million for nearly 30 riding programs in the country.

Shatner said that placing injured people on horseback has been shown to improve their conditions. ''We know that the use of a horse in their therapy takes them beyond their handicapped body, their injured body, and into another area of health,'' he said.

Computer Idiot

I just fucked up and inserted piece A into Slot B the wrong way and now I can't get it out and have just screwed up my new computer and I feel like such a dumbass! I know what assholes tech guys can be and I so so so so so don't want to go get it fixed and have them laugh at me.

Saying Good-Bye

I suck at Goodbyes. Today is my last day at work and barely anyone knows. I like it like that. Most Goodbyes consist of this exchange:

Them: "Oh? You're leaving? How come?"
Me: "Well, I'm moving to XYZ."
Them: "Really? Why?"
Me: "A host of reasons really...blah blah blah...yeah..."
Them: "It's been great working with you: we'll be sorry to see you go."

Awkward hug.

Repeat ad nauseum.

I've moved three times in the last two and a half years: New York City to Sacramento, Sacramento to San Francisco, and San Francisco back to New York. Every time someone asked "why" I'd have to justify myself over and over. Why? Why? Why? Why would you want to move to Sacramento from New York? That's Crazy!? Sacramento to San Francisco is understandable. But back to New York?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm out for a pack of cigarettes. I'll be right back.

Goofing Off At Work

I'm useless for the rest of the day. I try try try to stay away from the internet and get work done but I really can't. I should just not try.

Windows Live Vs. Hotmail

I've used Hotmail since 1999. People have told me (begged me) to use gmail because it's better (probably is). I figure it's six of one and half a dozen of the other. I was so excited to see the link to upgrade to Windows Live Beta. That worked for about a week and then it held my mail hostage for 48 hours--telling me to just keep refreshing.

Don't hold my messages hostage. I don't like it.

I opted out. Now I'm back with hotmail.

Swap from San Francisco or New York

I'm moving back to New York City on June 3rd, 2006. If I do a swap while I'm still here in San Francisco, I'll send you Ghiradelli Chocolate and some Rice-a-Roni (the San Francisco Treat!).

If I'm living in New York, I would send you some tasty bagels but they probably wouldn't arrive very fresh or tasty. :(

Anonymous is my biggest fan!

  • Your website has a useful information for beginners like me.
  • Nice! Where you get this guestbook? I want the same script.. Awesome content. thankyou.
  • I'm impressed with your site, very nice graphics!
  • Me so horney! Me love you long time!

    Finally turned on the word verification feature; I hate that sh*t but it had to be done. Man, those spammers are sneaky devils. On the other hand, it is nice to be appreciated for the awesome content, very nice graphics and the useful information for beginners.

  • P. Diddy

    I don't like P. Diddy. He is one of the celebrities who annoys me the most. He's the teflon don; sh*t don't stick to him. He gets whatever he wants and all he ever does on anyones rap album is say, "That's Right! That's right!" in the background.

    Chance of Showers

    San Francisco has two seasons: rainy season and foggy season. The former is late fall, winter, and early spring. We're coming up on June so it's very rare for us to get any more rain. The homeless vomit and excrement on the streets today will just sit there--unmolested--until the first rain six months from now.

    Today there is a chance of showers. I will carry my umbrella around like a d*uchebag all day. Therefore, it won't rain. The people of San Francisco should thank me.

    Captive Audience

    I am a receptionist; I cannot go anywhere but am tethered to the phone. I have to pick it up when it rings. Because I can't go anywhere, I'm extremely susceptible to talkers and yakkers. I can do a couple things. I can hope that the phone rings; sometimes if it's a lengthy phone call, the person talking to me thinks of something else to do so walks away. Hell, no reason to say goodbye to me as I'm just the receptionist. Today I've heard about moving plans and the evils of George Bush. Leave me alone! I'm trying to read a blog; do you mind?

    Baby Pac-Man

    I'm trying to eat healthier and that means not eating like I'm 19 years old anymore. I was feeling hungry so googled "hunger pangs" and this article popped up. I kind of like it. We had a Baby Pac-Man machine in our basement for years; we won it at a church raffle. I got the high score and then we finally gave it to my sister's boyfriend.

    Lacrosse Players & Stripper Case

    I've been following this case with the Lacrosse players a bit; I think she's lying.

    May 16, 2006
    3rd Duke Lacrosse Player Is Indicted in Rape Case
    DURHAM, N.C., May 15 — A third lacrosse player was indicted Monday in the rape investigation that has raised racial and class tensions between Duke University and its hometown.

    David F. Evans, 23, of Bethesda, Md., a team captain who lived in the house where a black woman says she was sexually assaulted by three white players during a party, was charged with rape, first-degree sexual offense and kidnapping. Mr. Evans was indicted on the same charges as two of his teammates, Reade Seligmann, 20, of Essex Fells, N.J., and Collin Finnerty, 19, of Garden City, N.Y., who surrendered April 18.

    Blasted LED Lights

    I have two computers in my room, both of which have mice. Then, there's the clock radio. My bedroom is lit up like Liberace's Vegas Christmas Special.

    Can't wait to get to Coney Island

    The first thing I do once I get to New York is I'm gonna go to Coney Island and meet hot gang members in leather vests. Then, I'm going to join the lizzies and we're going to have shiv fights under the boardwalk and eat Nathan's hot dogs morning noon and night.

    ***Even though this movie was made years ago, black chicks in Brooklyn STILL dress like this! Hot.

    Leslie Stahl is a Closed-Minded Whore

    This morning, on CBS Sunday morning, Leslie Stahl interviewed Susan Sarandon.

    Leslie keeps referring to Tim Robbins as Susan's "husband" like she can't understand people living outside of wedlock. Can you imagine? Finally, she asks Susan, "What do you call him?" What century is this woman living in?!! Susan suggests "partner."

    Then, at the end, Susan "teaches" Leslie how to do the Time Warp, from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. It's a dumb segment but at the end, Leslie says, "Not bad for two sixty-year old women!" Why did you have to bring it back to age, Leslie? No one else was thinking about how old you were or how empowering it is to do a dumb-fucking dance!! Fuck you, Leslie! Fuck you!!


    God I hate Golddiggers. I'm sure that Kimora Lee's relationship with Russell Simmons started out well; and what he got out of the deal I don't know. I guess he probably loves his daughters, but I'm sure that was just Kimora's 18-year life insurance. The thought of marrying a successful, wealthy man and then spending all his cash like there's no tomorrow and have people talk about me that way: I'd pick one of the many handy bridges in the Tri-State area and jump off. No, I would not want to become a parable.

    What will happen to her now? Women like this only understand manipulating men. She's started her own lines of stuff (perfume, clothing, etc.) like she's some sort of P. Diddy, but who will take Russell's sloppy seconds?

    Jury Duty

    Jury Duty is all the pleasure of a long distance bus-trip without actually going anywhere.

    Last Friday, I was summoned to the civic county courthouse on McAllister street. I went through the security gate and down the stairs to the jury room which is like a very nice airplane waiting area; plush seats, low lighting, tables and chairs, clean bathrooms. I sat and sat and then they called my number and told me to go up the stairs to Court room 220. A bunch of us went up: about 50 or 60 packed into a medium-sized room. Then, 24 of us were called to sit in the actual jury area with the 12 chairs. We were given a card with a bunch of questions and had to answer them one by one. How long I’d lived in San Francisco, what was my education, who did I live with, was I married, had kids? Etc.

    The lawyers for both the defense and prosecution came by and asked a bunch of questions. Had we ever been in an accident? Did we know someone who’d had a DUI? How did we feel about cops? Did we think it was silly to be there that day? Those who talked the most and answered every question got excused: I would have excused them too. Evidently, you don’t have to get all racist to get kicked off a jury: just be a pain in the ass.

    I clammed up. It’s all right to say, “Oh, I’ll just tell them this or that….” But when you’re sitting there in that chair and there’s a judge and lawyers, it’s a whole different ballgame. I know two people who have lost their licenses but kept my trap shut because it wasn’t anyone close to me. No, these people were acquaintances.

    The Latina defendant was sitting there and she looked kinda ghetto; she wasn’t dressed appropriately for a courtroom but was wearing casual clothing. Her lawyer was this Marina-type valley girl blonde with a constant sneer on her face. I kept waiting for her to say things like, “Eh…mah…GAWD!!” But she didn’t. She just ended up objecting to everything the prosecution said. The second day she wore a pant suit with Capri pants.

    I really liked the prosecution; she was a Vassar type in crisp white Ann Taylor suits and pearls. She was nice. Thin as a rail with a slight hunchback and goofy teeth.

    The judge was a smally, fifty-ish woman of Italian descent. Very no-nonsense but hella cool. I liked her.

    So I got selected: mainly because I didn’t say anything. I think I would have been objective anyway.

    We got the sense that it was a DUI case; and Monday morning it began. They trotted out cops, paramedics, phlebotomists and firefighters. All their stories pretty-much gibed that on December 2 at 2:30 in the morning, Ms. R------ (the defendant) had stolen her ex-boyfriend’s car, done alcohol shots with her friends, and then plowed into a bunch of vehicles on O-- street at C----- and L----. Some cars were flipped over and onto their sides. Lots of people were hurt. Ms. R------ said to a cop “I did it! I did it! It’s my fault, etc.”

    A typical day was we were summoned at 9:00. By nine thirty or ten, we’d get called into the room. We’d hear a witness or two, and then get excused for a two-and-a-half hour lunch. I’d wander around downtown and then go back at the appointed time. Then, we’d sit around for another half an hour to hour twiddling our thumbs before we’d get called in to hear another witness and then get excused for the day. It Totally Blew!! It was like a game of baseball: hurry up and wait. Five percent action and ninety five percent waiting.

    Today, we were supposed to be there at 9:00. At ten thirty, we got called into the room and told that the case was settled and we weren't needed after all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    Heavy sigh; I think that jury duty would be interesting if one got a good case, but for the most part, just be a pain in the ass during selection and get out of it. If you get called at all.

    I guess I screwed up by smiling; see, it's not all about being racist.


    While getting ready for bed, I noticed a lump in my cheek. Of course, my first thought was, "Cancer." And then my second--more alarming--thought was, "I'm okay with death."

    Let me tell you: it would solve a lot of problems.

    "Would you rather?" Game

    I just asked my boss, "Who would you rather go out on a date with, Nicole Kidman or Katie Holmes?" He said, "I don't know how Katie Holmes is." Then, I asked, "Who would you rather go out on a date with, Tippi Hedren in The Birds, or Melanie Griffith in Working Girl?"

    "She just doesn't stop!" He joked to my co-worker, meaning me with the questions.

    I love the "would you rather" game; others hate it with a passion. You either love it or hate it. And the questions aren't just the important part: it's the answer too. You HAVE to answer the question. And you HAVE to tell why.

    Oh Netflix!!

    Why do you taunt me so? Why? Why? I can't watch you and you pile up and collect dust and I know that my hard-earned money is going into your coffers but I just can't get into watching the first season of Oz.

    Psych Tests

    Someday, in my spare time, I'll take all these tests and they won't tell me anything I didn't already know.

    CBS Sunday Morning

    We get up at five fifty every Sunday morning to watch the CBS Sunday Morning Show. This is an old fart show that's fully funded by the pharmaceutical companies. Most of the advertisements are for propecia and nasonex. Every week, they feature some over-the-hill rock star who went through a series of wives and now, in his doddering age, is putting out a come-back album so he can keep his trophy wife and new twins in the McMansions she's grown accustomed to . My mom loves this show; and I love my mom so I watch it with her. But it kills me that she nods her head at everything this show spews. This morning there was an "ain't it awful" feature on medical misdiagnoses. I scoffed at it but my mother nods her head like the Mayor of Anaheim when he takes orders from Robert Iger.

    Does anyone give a sh*t about Mickey Mouse?

    I always thought he was kind of lame. I don't know why they make him the mascot of Disney. I don't know anyone who really likes him. We all have our favorite Disney Characters. Sleeping Beauty is my favorite Disney Princess. Disney is resurrecting him for some sort of show. Who cares?