Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Crumbs in Keyboard
For some reason, the "H" key on my keyboard would not work this morning. All of my email greetings started with "i" or "ey" or "ola" or "ello". As I turned my keyboard on its side to see what was up with Mr. H, a surprising amount of crumbs fell out of my board of keys. Shaking only took care of the really loose buggers. I'm gonna have to resort to an air blower for the rest, I'm afraid.
In the past month, I've been treating myself to pastries in the morning. Work has become so fucking grueling that the only thing that gets me out of bed is the thought of a yummy pastry purchased in the cafe of my office building. On my way to work, I'm thinking of which pastry it will be today - croissant, scone, bear claw, cinnamon roll, or big-ass American sized muffins (chocolate's my favorite). Once I've dumped my satchel, keys and morning newspaper in my office, I run down to the cafe and sheepishly order my morning pastry. I say sheepishly, because the owner, a cute little Asian lady, has lately been giving me the once over before greeting me. She smiles as if to say, "I appreciate your business", but her up and down glances are saying, "ummm... but I don't need your business that bad."
I guess, my pastry fetish has gotten a little out of control, so says my keyboard, the glaring eyes of a sweet Asian lady, and my favorite pair of Levis jeans. I don't know how I can work without a pastry. If only I could smoke in my office!!
In the past month, I've been treating myself to pastries in the morning. Work has become so fucking grueling that the only thing that gets me out of bed is the thought of a yummy pastry purchased in the cafe of my office building. On my way to work, I'm thinking of which pastry it will be today - croissant, scone, bear claw, cinnamon roll, or big-ass American sized muffins (chocolate's my favorite). Once I've dumped my satchel, keys and morning newspaper in my office, I run down to the cafe and sheepishly order my morning pastry. I say sheepishly, because the owner, a cute little Asian lady, has lately been giving me the once over before greeting me. She smiles as if to say, "I appreciate your business", but her up and down glances are saying, "ummm... but I don't need your business that bad."
I guess, my pastry fetish has gotten a little out of control, so says my keyboard, the glaring eyes of a sweet Asian lady, and my favorite pair of Levis jeans. I don't know how I can work without a pastry. If only I could smoke in my office!!
Friday, June 25, 2004
Fast Food Talk
The American language - that annoying root that grew away from the tree of English and some how wandered through the soil, only to find itself infiltrating your sewer laterals, causing back up, and eventually creating over flow onto your fancy tiled bathroom floor. Yep, I suppose you could consider your high school English teacher analogous to the special clean up teams that take care of the mess caused by those pesky tree roots (but the Persian rugs are never the same). English teachers can try as they might to instill in their students proper grammar and better adjectives than "nice", but they can't fend off the outside environment, where those same savage tree roots cause sidewalks to be uneven and trip you when you play Frisbee.
The American language is drowning in waters concentrated with the word "like" and the phrases "you know" and "I mean". During the past few weeks I have examined my conversation with others, particularly noting the amount of times I revert to Valley Girl dialect. The data is astonishing, my fellow Americans, and as I sit hear typing "Americans" I begin to wonder if other countries use similar unnecessary language fillers such as the ones cited above. It's been a while since I've crossed the borders of our country. The closest was during my recent trip to Disney World in the Canadian part of Epcott Center. After watching a documentary and browsing through shops filled with hockey paraphernalia and beer-can-holding hats with plastic straws, I felt more acquainted with Canadian culture and felt learned enough to participate in discussions concerning the Canadian way of life...
Well, maybe Canada is not the best choice in exploring other foreign countries' affinities toward ineffectual word inserts, given their close proximity and similar way of life, and, well, then there's the whole "eh" thing that would take paragraphs to dissect. How about Iceland? I really don't know much about Iceland. It's the birth place of Sigur Ros and Bjork, so it can't be too bad. But given the crazy-ass way they construct their words, I really doubt they give much time to pronouncing more crazy-ass words that provide no added meaning to their statements. French and Spanish - does it really matter? Those languages are sexy no matter what you're saying. The English - I have to say this: I think their accent fools us at times, making certain lads and lasses sound smarter than they really are. Try talking with an English accent while using the vernacular of a southern California surfer - see what I mean? Accent aside, my English friends speak quite fluidly with no hiccups from the babbling stream of babble.
The wandering roots from the language tree - the "like"s and the "you know"s and "I mean"s - find themselves wedged into spaces of conversation once occupied by pauses - pauses needed in order to better articulate the next thought. That's a theory my friend, Jill, has postulated. We Americans are in such a rush to spit out our words and are so afraid of someone interrupting, that we feel we must use word fillers to buy more air time. I have to agree with Jill; listening to coversations around me has only supported this view. Our language has become inundated with preservatives causing the American language to fatten up. Fast Food Nation - Fast Food Talk
Am I becoming a language Nazi? Well, self-righteousness is seeping in like oil into pores, soon to come to a head. I've already brought up in conversation the over use of these partially hydrogenated letter compilations. My friends agree, roll their eyes at me for pointing out their over usage, and then revert back to the convenience of fast food talk.
We don't talk English in the United States - we talk American.
The American language is drowning in waters concentrated with the word "like" and the phrases "you know" and "I mean". During the past few weeks I have examined my conversation with others, particularly noting the amount of times I revert to Valley Girl dialect. The data is astonishing, my fellow Americans, and as I sit hear typing "Americans" I begin to wonder if other countries use similar unnecessary language fillers such as the ones cited above. It's been a while since I've crossed the borders of our country. The closest was during my recent trip to Disney World in the Canadian part of Epcott Center. After watching a documentary and browsing through shops filled with hockey paraphernalia and beer-can-holding hats with plastic straws, I felt more acquainted with Canadian culture and felt learned enough to participate in discussions concerning the Canadian way of life...
Well, maybe Canada is not the best choice in exploring other foreign countries' affinities toward ineffectual word inserts, given their close proximity and similar way of life, and, well, then there's the whole "eh" thing that would take paragraphs to dissect. How about Iceland? I really don't know much about Iceland. It's the birth place of Sigur Ros and Bjork, so it can't be too bad. But given the crazy-ass way they construct their words, I really doubt they give much time to pronouncing more crazy-ass words that provide no added meaning to their statements. French and Spanish - does it really matter? Those languages are sexy no matter what you're saying. The English - I have to say this: I think their accent fools us at times, making certain lads and lasses sound smarter than they really are. Try talking with an English accent while using the vernacular of a southern California surfer - see what I mean? Accent aside, my English friends speak quite fluidly with no hiccups from the babbling stream of babble.
The wandering roots from the language tree - the "like"s and the "you know"s and "I mean"s - find themselves wedged into spaces of conversation once occupied by pauses - pauses needed in order to better articulate the next thought. That's a theory my friend, Jill, has postulated. We Americans are in such a rush to spit out our words and are so afraid of someone interrupting, that we feel we must use word fillers to buy more air time. I have to agree with Jill; listening to coversations around me has only supported this view. Our language has become inundated with preservatives causing the American language to fatten up. Fast Food Nation - Fast Food Talk
Am I becoming a language Nazi? Well, self-righteousness is seeping in like oil into pores, soon to come to a head. I've already brought up in conversation the over use of these partially hydrogenated letter compilations. My friends agree, roll their eyes at me for pointing out their over usage, and then revert back to the convenience of fast food talk.
We don't talk English in the United States - we talk American.
Saturday, June 12, 2004
Power Tool Drag Races
Well, there we were with our skill saw and belt sander - Kali, the Goddess of Creation, Preservation and Destruction; Bitch on Wheels (or Cotton Tail for those watching Discovery). This weekend was the third annual Power Tools Drag Race, and it was every bit as black leathery and "Goth chick mania" that it was last year. But this time I actually participated - standing on the side lines was not an option this year. I wanted to race, and toward the end of preparing our skill saw for lightening speeds, I wanted to win.
For those of you who are not familiar with the Power Tools Drag Race phenomenon, I'll fill you in. The Power Tools Drag Race is an event held in a junkyard in San Francisco, and, just as the name suggests, it's a race between power tools. Most of the action occurs on two 75 foot long race tracks, each consisting of plywood, 12 inches wide, bordered by 2x4's There are a few classes you can enter - the super stock class, consisting of very simple designs where the power tool, itself, is not modified; the modified class where pretty much anything goes; the riding class, where people are actually insane enough to ride their contraption in which a power tool is embedded; the sex toys class (don't ask - it's never as sexy as it seems... really); and the unofficial rocket class, held when the cameras are turned off and NASA's satellites are out of range. It's as awesome as it sounds and then some. Plus there are the announcers who are fucking hilarious and extremely offensive - who could ask for a better afternoon of fun.
My team, the Drag Queens, consists of Gwen, Jen Clemente, and me . Gwen and Jen entered Bitch on Wheels last year, and she ranked pretty high - I think fourth. Bitch is more about looks than winning.
This year I wanted in on the action. Gwen and Jen accepted me as a teammate. Our plan was to have a skill saw as our second entry - last year the skill saws were the ones that had the most speed. Lucky for us, Gwen's boyfriend, Zander, has a shop that is absolutely in-fucking-credible. Zander has competed and won several times in Battle Bot's competitions. Not to mention - but I will - he won the Riding class at this year's drag race. I can't help but brag.
For approximately the last month and a half, Team Drag Queens worked diligently to prepare their second entry for this year's drag race - Kali - as I mentioned above, the Hindu goddess of Creation, Preservation, and Destruction. You see, Kali embodies the essence of a power tool. She creates by destroying, much like a chain saw cutting down trees for nice rich folks to have pretty wooden floors. She preserves life, much like a power drill used to mount the moving chair along the stair case, transporting Granndma to and from upstairs. No more breaking hips for you, Grandma!
We drilled some wheels onto Kali's frame - mostly for balancing and buffering along the sides of the track - figured out a good angle and depth for her to race, took her 18 voltage and ramped it up to 48 volts, and lastly, and most importantly, we mounted her butter cream cocoa mannequin head to the front and bolted a lizard on top of her skull for a mohawk. The Discovery channel filmed us the whole way - from our first team meeting, to the design stage (which consisted of a sketch drawn in crayons), to our creating a test track, to our drilling through metal, to my getting super glue on my lip and fumbling while screwing on nuts, to finally the race weekend.
Saturday was the elimination round, and thank the lord God that our competition forfeited both Kali's and Bitch's rounds. Kali had some wiring issues. Firstly, the stereo cord wasn't stuck in the connectors very well, and then secondly she became unplugged 3/4's of the way down the track. Bitch on Wheels did as best as she could for a belt sander - all that matters for her is that she looks good. On Sunday, Kali and Bitch raced one after the other during the first round - imagine how hurtful and disappointing it was when both of them lost to power tools that weren't nearly as cute. I couldn't believe how upset I was. The Discovery channel stuck their cameras right in our faces, asking us how we did. I looked at them in amazement - we lost, for Christ's sake. Anyway, lucky for us, it was double elimination. Since both girls lost, we were bumped to the "Losers'" bracket... whatever...
I think that Bitch and Kali felt mortified having to hob knob with losers. So they got it together. Both of them began to win round after round in the "Losers'" bracket - they just needed time to get warmed up - they didn't have a chance to primp. It was sooo uplifting and exciting to see them bobbing down the track - leaving saw dust in their competitors' faces. This time Discovery saw a pit crew that was more than happy to ham it up.
But I'm not even to the best part - Kali and Bitch go head to head. It was orgasmically bitter sweet to see our girls race against each other - reaching the climax, knowing it would be over in 2.42 seconds. It was only suitable for me to represent Bitch - after all, we were wearing matching outfits. Gwen took the lead for Kali, and we insisted that Jen be our flag girl for the race of all races. She was the flag girl for last year's event but not this year - she broke up with the guy who's in charge of the drag races. Instead, there was this scantily clad chick, who is known to be into clown porn - San Francisco has all kinds. Anyway, Jen held the green, sequined flags in the air - Gwen and I both looked at her intently. 3, 2, 1 - go!! Skill saw and belt sander shot down the track like darts from the eyes of Medusa. Kali ended up winning - it didn't matter. I actually worked on Kali, so I felt pretty proud that my screw tightening and super glueing contributed to her glory. But through it all, Bitch and I became friends, both of us finding a kindred spirit.
So our last race was against a four year old little girl and her skill saw. Something makes me think she had help with hers - grounds for immediate disqualification in my eyes, but I didn't say anything to the judges. As far as I was concerned, we reached our pinnacle. The chance to race again was merely sprinkles on a cupcake. It really doesn't matter whether the four year old little cheat won or Team Drag Queens... really, it doesn't... The point is our girls represented, yo!
Next year I think we should enter an angle grinder. They're even sexier.
For those of you who are not familiar with the Power Tools Drag Race phenomenon, I'll fill you in. The Power Tools Drag Race is an event held in a junkyard in San Francisco, and, just as the name suggests, it's a race between power tools. Most of the action occurs on two 75 foot long race tracks, each consisting of plywood, 12 inches wide, bordered by 2x4's There are a few classes you can enter - the super stock class, consisting of very simple designs where the power tool, itself, is not modified; the modified class where pretty much anything goes; the riding class, where people are actually insane enough to ride their contraption in which a power tool is embedded; the sex toys class (don't ask - it's never as sexy as it seems... really); and the unofficial rocket class, held when the cameras are turned off and NASA's satellites are out of range. It's as awesome as it sounds and then some. Plus there are the announcers who are fucking hilarious and extremely offensive - who could ask for a better afternoon of fun.
My team, the Drag Queens, consists of Gwen, Jen Clemente, and me . Gwen and Jen entered Bitch on Wheels last year, and she ranked pretty high - I think fourth. Bitch is more about looks than winning.
This year I wanted in on the action. Gwen and Jen accepted me as a teammate. Our plan was to have a skill saw as our second entry - last year the skill saws were the ones that had the most speed. Lucky for us, Gwen's boyfriend, Zander, has a shop that is absolutely in-fucking-credible. Zander has competed and won several times in Battle Bot's competitions. Not to mention - but I will - he won the Riding class at this year's drag race. I can't help but brag.
For approximately the last month and a half, Team Drag Queens worked diligently to prepare their second entry for this year's drag race - Kali - as I mentioned above, the Hindu goddess of Creation, Preservation, and Destruction. You see, Kali embodies the essence of a power tool. She creates by destroying, much like a chain saw cutting down trees for nice rich folks to have pretty wooden floors. She preserves life, much like a power drill used to mount the moving chair along the stair case, transporting Granndma to and from upstairs. No more breaking hips for you, Grandma!
We drilled some wheels onto Kali's frame - mostly for balancing and buffering along the sides of the track - figured out a good angle and depth for her to race, took her 18 voltage and ramped it up to 48 volts, and lastly, and most importantly, we mounted her butter cream cocoa mannequin head to the front and bolted a lizard on top of her skull for a mohawk. The Discovery channel filmed us the whole way - from our first team meeting, to the design stage (which consisted of a sketch drawn in crayons), to our creating a test track, to our drilling through metal, to my getting super glue on my lip and fumbling while screwing on nuts, to finally the race weekend.
Saturday was the elimination round, and thank the lord God that our competition forfeited both Kali's and Bitch's rounds. Kali had some wiring issues. Firstly, the stereo cord wasn't stuck in the connectors very well, and then secondly she became unplugged 3/4's of the way down the track. Bitch on Wheels did as best as she could for a belt sander - all that matters for her is that she looks good. On Sunday, Kali and Bitch raced one after the other during the first round - imagine how hurtful and disappointing it was when both of them lost to power tools that weren't nearly as cute. I couldn't believe how upset I was. The Discovery channel stuck their cameras right in our faces, asking us how we did. I looked at them in amazement - we lost, for Christ's sake. Anyway, lucky for us, it was double elimination. Since both girls lost, we were bumped to the "Losers'" bracket... whatever...
I think that Bitch and Kali felt mortified having to hob knob with losers. So they got it together. Both of them began to win round after round in the "Losers'" bracket - they just needed time to get warmed up - they didn't have a chance to primp. It was sooo uplifting and exciting to see them bobbing down the track - leaving saw dust in their competitors' faces. This time Discovery saw a pit crew that was more than happy to ham it up.
But I'm not even to the best part - Kali and Bitch go head to head. It was orgasmically bitter sweet to see our girls race against each other - reaching the climax, knowing it would be over in 2.42 seconds. It was only suitable for me to represent Bitch - after all, we were wearing matching outfits. Gwen took the lead for Kali, and we insisted that Jen be our flag girl for the race of all races. She was the flag girl for last year's event but not this year - she broke up with the guy who's in charge of the drag races. Instead, there was this scantily clad chick, who is known to be into clown porn - San Francisco has all kinds. Anyway, Jen held the green, sequined flags in the air - Gwen and I both looked at her intently. 3, 2, 1 - go!! Skill saw and belt sander shot down the track like darts from the eyes of Medusa. Kali ended up winning - it didn't matter. I actually worked on Kali, so I felt pretty proud that my screw tightening and super glueing contributed to her glory. But through it all, Bitch and I became friends, both of us finding a kindred spirit.
So our last race was against a four year old little girl and her skill saw. Something makes me think she had help with hers - grounds for immediate disqualification in my eyes, but I didn't say anything to the judges. As far as I was concerned, we reached our pinnacle. The chance to race again was merely sprinkles on a cupcake. It really doesn't matter whether the four year old little cheat won or Team Drag Queens... really, it doesn't... The point is our girls represented, yo!
Next year I think we should enter an angle grinder. They're even sexier.
Work Blows
I want to quit my day job and become a lounge singer. I'll keep you posted...
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Gyp
It's gyp, not jip. Whatever...
Monday, June 07, 2004
California Gets Jipped Again
Okay, I know I live in probably the best area in America. San Francisco offers a wide range of culture, tons of stuff to do, great music, and pretty much an easy going kinda life style - not to mention, we are surrounded by scenery that takes your breath away. With that said, I still can't help but bitch about our location in the world. Those of us over here on the west coast will not have the luxury of seeing Venus wander on by the sun, giving us earthlings a wink as she sashays into obscurity. I was so excited about witnessing this event - with all science aside, there's still a lot of magic I feel when thinking of the universe beyond our world. I purposely sat aside time during lunch to read all about the glimpse of Venus. An impatient anticipation ran through me as I scanned today's newspaper searching for the time of Venus's crossing - I was thinking of getting up early just to see Venus wave hello and good bye, whether that would have actually happened is beside the point. And what do I find? Yet again, California's lat's and long's give us the shit end of the stick.
"Yet again" is right. Our time zone totally sucks ass. America operates according to the clock of the East Coast. If I'm having a major problem with some software in the later part of the afternoon, I can forget about calling the 1-800 number for assistance, until very early tomorrow morning. It's a pain in the ass for me to call my parents. By the time I remember to deliver my weekly phone call, it's already 10:00 PM over there. This is crippling when it comes to the last minute Mothers' Day, Fathers' Day, birthday and whatever else greetings.
Well, I can't really think of another example as to why California's cosmic location sucks ass. I'm just pissed that I can't see Venus in person - that's all. I guess seeing her debut on a website somewhere will suffice The Winking of Venus
You know the word "jip" is not in the dictionary. Still haven't heard back from Webster.
"Yet again" is right. Our time zone totally sucks ass. America operates according to the clock of the East Coast. If I'm having a major problem with some software in the later part of the afternoon, I can forget about calling the 1-800 number for assistance, until very early tomorrow morning. It's a pain in the ass for me to call my parents. By the time I remember to deliver my weekly phone call, it's already 10:00 PM over there. This is crippling when it comes to the last minute Mothers' Day, Fathers' Day, birthday and whatever else greetings.
Well, I can't really think of another example as to why California's cosmic location sucks ass. I'm just pissed that I can't see Venus in person - that's all. I guess seeing her debut on a website somewhere will suffice The Winking of Venus
You know the word "jip" is not in the dictionary. Still haven't heard back from Webster.
