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).
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:
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!
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.
May 29, 2006
Shatner: Horses Can Help Disabled Kids
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
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.
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."
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.
Don't hold my messages hostage. I don't like it.
I opted out. Now I'm back with hotmail.
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. :(
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.
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.
May 16, 2006
3rd Duke Lacrosse Player Is Indicted in Rape Case
By SHAILA DEWAN
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.
***Even though this movie was made years ago, black chicks in Brooklyn STILL dress like this! Hot.
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!!
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?
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.
Let me tell you: it would solve a lot of problems.
"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.