Since I was a child, I was never fixated on my wedding day, or the day I'd get my first period, or lose my virginity, or the day of my death. While I suspected that all of those things were inevitible, I knew something else was- the odds of being crapped on by a bird.
I am oddly giddy to announce that today, Tuesday, November 18th, I noticed a dollop of hunter green bird shit on the shoulder of my black shirt. I was walking to work, a mere two blocks from my door, when I noticed it. Luckily I had tissues in my bag, so I was able to get rid of most of it. Alas, reminants are there, and I can't stop staring at my shoulder.
Mazeltov!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Sunday, November 16, 2008
schmoozing...
I think I've perfected my method of making things happen for my clients-
1. call the restaurant/hotel/spa, etc
2. act as if i've already been confirmed/told something
3. mention that my client is a major VIP for a huge company
4. get panicky because I am sooooo about to lose my job.
5. wait for hostess to take sympathy on me and transfer me to a manager.
6. Flirt with reckless abandon with a male manager, upping the damsel in distress routine to epic proportions. "Oh my god, you are such a sweetheart! You just saved me my job!" is quite effective. Kiss the ass of a female manager, thanking her profusely for taking time out of her busy day.
7. call my client, unleash my magic on their asses. Attribute it to my powers of persuasion when it comes to such an important client.
8. go home, take an extra long shower to clean off the deceit.
1. call the restaurant/hotel/spa, etc
2. act as if i've already been confirmed/told something
3. mention that my client is a major VIP for a huge company
4. get panicky because I am sooooo about to lose my job.
5. wait for hostess to take sympathy on me and transfer me to a manager.
6. Flirt with reckless abandon with a male manager, upping the damsel in distress routine to epic proportions. "Oh my god, you are such a sweetheart! You just saved me my job!" is quite effective. Kiss the ass of a female manager, thanking her profusely for taking time out of her busy day.
7. call my client, unleash my magic on their asses. Attribute it to my powers of persuasion when it comes to such an important client.
8. go home, take an extra long shower to clean off the deceit.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Get thee to the suburbs...or the nunnery
So word on the street is that the back patio at Lucky 13 is closing at 11pm nowadays because the neighbors are having a shitfit about the noise. Mind you, Lucky 13 is located right off of Church and Market, a buzzing area sandwiched between the castro and mission. My favorite bar, the Gold Cane, is getting more and more adament about shutting down their famous, smoker-friendly back patio around 11pm on weekends because a lawyer neighbor is threatening legal action.
Where are we, Palo Alto?
Uptight people.....you've always been on my shit list. I have no problem with those of you who reside in your compulsively clean gated communities, going weeks without seeing a lick of graffiti, or a bum, or anything that may slightly inconvenience your robotic life. But what the fuck was going through your head when you decided on your apartment in a notoriously hectic San Francisco neighborhood?
There is a certain checklist that even the most irresponsible and oblivious of potential tenant would go through- they scan their neighborhood. Are you trying to say that you didn't do recon work and notice- hmmmm, I love those granite countertops but that bar next door may disrupt my beauty sleep.
If you're old enough to live on your own, you should be self aware enough to know what does and doesn't work for you and your precious need for quiet. I personally would LOVE to live next to a bar in an area like Duboce Triangle or Haight....but I have a very high threshold for noise. My close friends live immediately above (like floor vibrating above) a bar on Haight Street and they simply adapted because they knew what they were getting themselves into. It also doesn't hurt that they think the idea is kind of fun- the view from their window provides hours of entertainment.
Once upon a time people came to this city because of its reputation, not for 5am yoga and haute brunches. SF was and should still be a place that caters to the alkies, the insomniacs, the social butterflies, the adventurers. That San Francisco has the catalyst for such perfect bouts of euphoria experienced by yours truly, don't ruin this for us.
Where are we, Palo Alto?
Uptight people.....you've always been on my shit list. I have no problem with those of you who reside in your compulsively clean gated communities, going weeks without seeing a lick of graffiti, or a bum, or anything that may slightly inconvenience your robotic life. But what the fuck was going through your head when you decided on your apartment in a notoriously hectic San Francisco neighborhood?
There is a certain checklist that even the most irresponsible and oblivious of potential tenant would go through- they scan their neighborhood. Are you trying to say that you didn't do recon work and notice- hmmmm, I love those granite countertops but that bar next door may disrupt my beauty sleep.
If you're old enough to live on your own, you should be self aware enough to know what does and doesn't work for you and your precious need for quiet. I personally would LOVE to live next to a bar in an area like Duboce Triangle or Haight....but I have a very high threshold for noise. My close friends live immediately above (like floor vibrating above) a bar on Haight Street and they simply adapted because they knew what they were getting themselves into. It also doesn't hurt that they think the idea is kind of fun- the view from their window provides hours of entertainment.
Once upon a time people came to this city because of its reputation, not for 5am yoga and haute brunches. SF was and should still be a place that caters to the alkies, the insomniacs, the social butterflies, the adventurers. That San Francisco has the catalyst for such perfect bouts of euphoria experienced by yours truly, don't ruin this for us.
Monday, November 10, 2008
NaNoWriMo and the death of coincidences
It seems like National Novel Writing Month rears its ugly peer-pressurey head into my orbit with increasing force every year. I recieved three emails from friends to the tune of "dude, you have got to get on this shit!"
I did it about three years ago. It is a consuming, horrid, addictive affair. I ended up with 70,000 words but I did so via willing alienation from my friends and complete rejection of my school work. And the novel? A piece of shit whose only value would be to expedite the workings of a compost bin. Don't really remember what it was about- I lost the thing in the great Chicken Soup Computer Takedown of 2005 (never forget!).
Alot of people say that the time constraints help with writers block and get the ideas flowing- after all, they are not being held to any kind of standard for a good story because they only had a month to write it.
Cracker, please.
You're writing a novel, not raising funds for a goodamn cancer research 10k. Time is not money. To me, rushing a novel is like aiming for a quickie on the first date with your soulmate. There is nothing more exciting than letting plot points just come to you- while commuting, as you get your groove on, in the shower, in the frozen foods section of trader joes- on their terms, when they're damn well ready.
There's a dualism to all of this- every writer is influenced by the shit around them. This is a fact. Some writers are better at tweaking/ignoring this than others, but I cannot tell you how much badassery I have come up with because of what I have witnessed on the streets of San Francisco. And then somewhow the imaginary voice/world in my head decides on how this can be used to continue the plot. Sometimes its the actual occurence (ie- a tap dancing nun) and other times its the mystery of this occurence (perhaps this nun had an offer at juilliard....I wonder why she didn't take it. Hmmm, maybe she's masochistic. Hmmm, maybe my villian is as well.....) And what is the plot but a series of happy accidents? That's life, isn't it? Nobody can plan their futures and therefore, how are we to fully plan our novels?
If I'm right about this.....what is your atmosphere going to be like in this hurried novel? A sea of black turtlenecks chugging espressos in a cafe-meetup scenario. Sounds self indulgent to me. You may as well write a book about writing a book. Unless you're Charlie Kaufman, I think you should take your time and take the party outside.
I did it about three years ago. It is a consuming, horrid, addictive affair. I ended up with 70,000 words but I did so via willing alienation from my friends and complete rejection of my school work. And the novel? A piece of shit whose only value would be to expedite the workings of a compost bin. Don't really remember what it was about- I lost the thing in the great Chicken Soup Computer Takedown of 2005 (never forget!).
Alot of people say that the time constraints help with writers block and get the ideas flowing- after all, they are not being held to any kind of standard for a good story because they only had a month to write it.
Cracker, please.
You're writing a novel, not raising funds for a goodamn cancer research 10k. Time is not money. To me, rushing a novel is like aiming for a quickie on the first date with your soulmate. There is nothing more exciting than letting plot points just come to you- while commuting, as you get your groove on, in the shower, in the frozen foods section of trader joes- on their terms, when they're damn well ready.
There's a dualism to all of this- every writer is influenced by the shit around them. This is a fact. Some writers are better at tweaking/ignoring this than others, but I cannot tell you how much badassery I have come up with because of what I have witnessed on the streets of San Francisco. And then somewhow the imaginary voice/world in my head decides on how this can be used to continue the plot. Sometimes its the actual occurence (ie- a tap dancing nun) and other times its the mystery of this occurence (perhaps this nun had an offer at juilliard....I wonder why she didn't take it. Hmmm, maybe she's masochistic. Hmmm, maybe my villian is as well.....) And what is the plot but a series of happy accidents? That's life, isn't it? Nobody can plan their futures and therefore, how are we to fully plan our novels?
If I'm right about this.....what is your atmosphere going to be like in this hurried novel? A sea of black turtlenecks chugging espressos in a cafe-meetup scenario. Sounds self indulgent to me. You may as well write a book about writing a book. Unless you're Charlie Kaufman, I think you should take your time and take the party outside.
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