BirthWeek 2012

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Reggae and Santas and Latkes, Oh My

Alright, I'm gonna have to go into the Way Back Machine, aka the What Happened More Than Two Weeks Ago machine for this one.  Lucky that I put a title on a blank blog, or I'd probably have no idea what I'm writing about right now.  We're looking at the weekend of the 14th, 15th and 16th of December.

Given that JMill was about to get out of his Google work, he was anxious to get out and about.  He heard about a show at the Red Devil Lounge on Friday night that one of his friends was playing in.  I figure it's a bar on Polk Street, can't be too horribly bad, why not give it a go?  On the way there he tells me that the band is a Reggae band, and I inwardly cringe because really, just how many good white Reggae groups have you ever heard in your entire life?  Ever?  But the night is about to get interesting because he's got a group of friends that he regularly hangs out with, and to be honest with you, the Reggae is good.  Like really good.  Not as in I bought a CD and remember their name way, but in a I'm really impressed that I didn't want to vomit all over my shoes while listening to you type of way.  So, big ups to that group.

The next day is the annual event known as SantaCon.  For those not in the know, SantaCon is a Saturday that happens every December where just about everyone in the Bay Area dresses up in Santa or Elf costumes, gets blitzed out of their skulls and then goes bar-hopping around the city in the middle of the day.  Now, for the revelers, this is always an extremely awesome event.  I mean, have you ever danced with 100 other Santas in a bar while it's still daylight out?  However, for the bartenders and the bouncers, this day sucks because you have a bunch of drunk idiots walking around before 4pm, trashing the bar, getting into various sorts of shenanigans and otherwise acting like they're hoping to be on the naughty list come Christmas.

I head up with JMill again and we meet up with MonSherm, a good lady friend of ours who, by my estimate, has been drinking since about 11AM.  Wanna talk about an awesome bar party game?  MonSherm has with her a stack of 3x5 notecards.  On each notecard is a question, command or drinking game.  She then goes around the bar handing these out to strangers.  I'll tell you one thing: drunk people love this game.  The minute one person gets a card, every person in their group wants a card too.  I stick a card in my reindeer hat, and people are mesmerized trying to read it and then respond to it.  All the while, following the rallying cry of "Let's get drunk and hit on elves," Mill disappears only to be spotted five minutes later dancing with some girl.  Then five minutes after that making out with some other girl.  Then five minutes later, buying a different girl a drink at the bar.  And five minutes after that making out with her friend on the dance floor.  All the while, I'm standing in a stupor watching this with an amazed expression on my face, as some chick in a Mrs. Claus outfit gets the entire bar's attention by throwing the guy she's with on a bench and then lap dancing him with the moves of what looks to be a stripper on speed.

A side note here: It's astounding that bouncers don't ever want to let me bring a backpack full of rum into a bar.  I just don't get it.

After a few hours of this, we stop to refuel and it's about time to get over to my second party of the evening, a holiday party of ultimate frisbee people in the Mission.  We eat a few burgers, MonSherm and JMill head back into the bars, and I begin the trek from Polk Street to the Mission by way of the crepe stand.  I do all of this with the intention that I'll show up to the advertised 8pm party at about 8:45.  This'll work because frisbee people are notoriously large partiers, so I figure by the time I get there almost an hour late, they'll be nearing my level of drunk.  It's a "Non-Denominational Holiday Party," which is pretty much what every Jewish/Catholic/Christian/Hindu/Muslim group in San Francisco celebrates.

Just to be on the safe side, I take off my reindeer hat before ringing the door bell, at a door that sounds suspiciously quiet.  And it's opened up by the host and her husband, who are still in their pajamas and not expecting anyone for another hour.

I like to call these Larry David moments.  That moment when you do something so completely awkward without even knowing that you're doing it, and then have to deal with the consequences afterwards.  So imagine me, drunk, so absolutely crazy thankful that I hid the reindeer hat in my backpack, wondering why I came so early and how long I'll have to wait before other people show up.

The situation isn't all downhill, however.  The host is making potato latkes, a favorite of mine, and being the first one there means I get to eat as many as I want because no one will be around to tell me I'm eating all the latkes.  Or getting fat eating all the latkes.  About 40 minutes later, people do start to show up, and I pretend that I haven't eaten any latkes at all as the second batch comes out.  All told, I eat somewhere in the range of 15 latkes before catching my BART home.

Just another December weekend in San Francisco.

10 Things to Think About on a Friday

1) Obviously the headline today is the school shooting in Connecticut.  It goes without saying that this is a horrendous, incredibly horrific act.  At the same time, do we really think that stricter gun control laws would have prevented a person intent on murder from obtaining two relatively "normal" hand guns?  I get that the immediate backlash is to say gun control, but the war on drugs hasn't stopped drugs, Prohibition didn't stop alcohol, illegal prostitution doesn't stop prostitution and even making guns completely illegal won't stop someone from carrying out this kind of monstrosity if that is their goal.  No matter what you try to control, or how strictly you try to control it, the people who want something will find a way to obtain it.

2)  Speaking of illegal things and on to lighter notes, I'll give 20 bucks to anyone who can find out where this is being served and how I can have it.  Illegal foie gras on a duck burger served somewhere in San Francisco.

3)  Are you more excited about the Fiscal Cliff or the Walking Dead half-season finale cliff-hanger?

4)  If you could have the government tackle just 1 area in the coming year, would you want them to focus on:
a) Gay Marriage
b) Gun Control
c) Health Care
d) Fiscal Cliff
e) Tax Code Simplification?

5)  You have two options: rainbows and kittens or sunshine and puppies.  Choose wisely.

6)  Survey Question: If only one domestic animal could exist, and all the others would be immediately extinct, which animal would you choose and why?

7) Y'all have been noticing that the Golden State Warriors are crushing it right now, right?  15-7 as of this post.

8) Assuming that the world will end in two weeks because a bunch of drugged out Mayans said so, are you foreseeing a Christian rapture, a nuclear apocalypse, a firestorm of asteroids, extreme natural disasters, or the sudden disappearance of the sun?  I'm gonna vote none of the above because the Mayans were nuts.  I'd hope for the disappearance of the sun though because the rest sound painful and horrific.

9) Got a laugh out of this.  That's about it.  Someone with Photoshop capabilities had too much time on their hands, and I'm a sucker for a tuxedo.

10)  I'm wondering if these girls from Penn State's Chi Omega have been following the news lately.  You do realize that your school just faced one of the most major scandals in American university history, right?  You're aware that the wave of bad press and bad publicity surrounding Penn State is like a tidal wave washing over the Poconos, destroying the face of honesty and integrity that used to be JoePa's school, right?  RIGHT?!  No?  Then surely you know that sororities are in need of more of a makeover for bad stereotypes outside of anyone other than Kanye West?  So why the hell are you posting this picture of your Mexican themed Halloween party?  They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but this one leaves me speechless.

We Are.  Penn State.

Get a Room, or a Library

First, imagine me with this look on my face as you read this post.  Because that's what I was doing the entire time this was happening.

Monday night I was invited out for drinks at O'Neill's in San Mateo, and ran into one of the biggest pet peeves I have.  Someone not knowing their place.

I'm not talking about a student who gets unruly with a teacher, or a person berating someone clearly in a better position than them type of knowing their place.  I'm not talking Gone With the Wind or Roots white racists telling slaves that they don't know their place.  Simply put, I'm not talking about any of the  common themes and derogatory meanings usually attached to someone not knowing their place.  I'm talking about someone literally not knowing where they are and acting like an idiot because of it.

I'll preface this story by saying that the person acting like an idiot in the bar was actually the most sober person in the bar.

My friend and I arrived at about 10 to find three different groups at the bar.  In the back at a round table was a group of four people having some cocktails and looking at what appeared to be work documents.  I support this.  Any opportunity to mix work with drinking sounds like a great thing, unless of course you're a bus driver, truck driver or any other pilot of any kind.  Also probably not recommended for surgeons.  But hey, if you're just looking at some hand outs and papers and chatting, what better way?

At the bar you had a group of regulars, you know the grizzly old guys who just need to get out of their house so they don't feel like they're drinking alone.  They're pretty harmless, have their 6 drinks or whatever and leave, and generally are the only reason bars stay open on a Monday night.  This group of regulars were joined at the bar that evening by my friend and I, as well as two girls, one of which had a light beer and the other who was sipping a glass of white wine.  We'll get to the intelligence or lack thereof of drinking white wine at an Irish pub later.

Last, there was a group of about 8 people sitting at a table who were absolutely shit housed.  This group was singing to the songs, making jokes, laughing loudly and basically doing everything you imagine goes on at bars.  And they were doing it on a Monday which means that they either didn't have to work on Tuesday, they did but didn't care if they were hung over, or they had something serious to celebrate and come what may for the rest of the week.  Regardless, when I see 8 people out on a Monday night having a great time, I'm excited and happy for them and wishing I didn't have to wake up at 5:45 the next morning.

About midway through my drink, I look over my friend's shoulder to see the two girls shooting angry glares and looks over at the drunk group.  One of those, "Oh, my, God, Becky, why are they being so obnoxious?" looks.  And as I watch this idiot blonde girl sipping her chardonnay, she keeps turning around and throwing nasty looks over to the drunk table.  A loud chorus of "Don't Stop Believing" breaks out when the song comes on the bar's stereo, and little Ms. Napa says out loud, to her friend but loud enough for the bar to hear, "Oh my god, will you shut up?!"

Of course, drunk people don't notice this, but I'm enraged.  I have the urge to pick up my hi-ball, throw it as hard as I can at her head (after drinking the contents of course), and then walking up to her and forcing vodka down her throat.  I have the urge to yell, "Shut the fuck up you moron," at her while buying a new round for the people at the table.  Of course, my friend is a lady, so I'm being restrained and polite.  Then, blondie sets off a firestorm by turning around, raising her voice so the table can hear her and yelling, "Will you PLEASE be quiet?!"  This sets off the drunk table of course, and they turn around to say exactly what I was thinking for the past 20 minutes: "This is a bar!"

Not a library.  Not your dining room at home where you can drink crushed grapes and watch The Bachelor in peace, not an SAT testing facility and certainly not a funeral parlor.  A bar.  Where people go to drink alcohol, talk and sing with friends, get inebriated and do things they can't do at home on a Monday night like have an 8 person sing along to Journey and cause a nuisance to all their neighbors.  One of the drunk girls has a hand on her man and manages to diffuse the situation by telling him to ignore those idiots.  Then, two even more drunk morons stumble in, two guys who are close to drooling and look like their eyes could shut and leave them passed out on the floor at any minute.  Pretentious wine snob blonde girl, who they see immediately as potential hook up material (I guess even idiots look hot when you've had enough whiskey), becomes their new neighbor at the bar and she begins trying to enlist them into fighting her fight for her, even going so far as to send one of the guys over to ask the table to be quiet.  Poor guy has a BAC over .12, so he doesn't even know what he's really doing when he does it.

Finally, the confrontation ends when the drunk group decides to switch bar locations and check out McGovern's down the street.  But not before the two sober chicks let loose another tirade about "showing respect" and "keeping the volume at a reasonable level," which is met with 16 middle fingers and one more, "You're in a fucking bar bitch, go home if you don't like it."

Once they're gone, girl looks over at me.  I've been glaring at her the entire time with daggers, and she makes eye contact with me and shakes her head, rolls her eyes, like, "Can you believe there are people this idiotic in the world?"  My return stare says, "Yes, I can believe it, because I'm looking at you right now."

If you want to drink in peace, as in peace and quiet, pick a place to drink where the volume level is acceptable to you.  Parks are good.  Your home is good.  Bring a flask to your local library.  Hell, I've even heard monks like to get drunk off wine in silence, beating the first neophyte to speak out loud.  Go there.  But for the love of all things sacred, know your place.  Know your setting.  Know where you are.  And if it's a bar, where people go to get drunk and be loud, and you don't like it, either shove another drink down your throat and join the party or shove a ball gag in your mouth and walk out the back door, because people would rather see you undergo the Zed Pulp Fiction treatment in the back room than hear you bitch about someone being too loud in a public forum for alcohol intake.

So to the blonde chick at O'Neill's on Monday night complaining over her glass of chilled white, I hope I don't see you again.  Because if I do, I'm going to take 5 shots of tequila as fast as humanly possible, top them off with a Mind Eraser, and then pick the bar stool next to yours for my famous top of my voice rendition of every single song from West Side Story, while playing drums on the bar with a jackhammer.

Don't be that girl.  Pick a place with your required decibel level or leave, but don't tell other people to keep it down in an Irish pub on a Monday night.  You're in the wrong place.

Shaver Lake Shenanigans (Happy 30th)

Every answer is Za.

30th birthdays are huge.  A lot of people put the emphasis on 25, but what's better than getting to a decade known as "dirty?"  Not much says I.  This past weekend, we had the opportunity to celebrate the entry to the 30 something club of none other than Za.  He's been crushing things lately.  Great job, sweet apartment location, getting more sturdy than me and probably, nay, definitely putting less stress on his heart and liver than I've been.

Looking for something that slept 10 people and was out of the reach of a big city, Za found a sweet cabin at Shaver Lake outside of Fresno.  Nestled in a small community amongst the woods, this cabin was more house, two floors, huge deck looking into the woods, hot tub and fireplace.  Seriously excellent.  After getting off work on Friday, I met up with Rya and Lina from the Carol to embark on the 3-4 hour drive up there.  We'll skip over details of the moment that fog on the mountain up almost crashed us off the road.

She's thrilled to be heading outdoors.

 When we arrived, the crew was hanging out, working on puzzles.  We had Lean, Marge, Bini, Xena JD, Za and the three from our car.  Looking to jumpstart some drinking late on a Friday evening, we had a Taps tutorial (see Instruction Manual: Taps post) and after a bit more drinking, most people were ready to call it a night.  Good thing too, because Saturday turned into a combination of two, maybe three days.

I got up around 8:30 and some folks already had breakfast on.  Marge admitted to dreaming about how to finish the puzzle she was working on.  What happens when I wake up that early on a Saturday?  Well, I end up with a cocktail sitting in the hot tub by 11, of course.  Then breakfast number 2 was served.  Seriously, two separate egg scrambles and bacon servings in the course of three hours separated only by cocktails.  Astounding.  While a few people had reading and studying to do, five of us set up outside in the crisp air and gorgeous sunshine to play dominoes.

Serious chefs at work.

thought we were done, went upstairs and we reverted to the double 6.  As bones ended, it was time to adventure into the great outdoors, which we did armed with frisbees.  Bini and I took on a challenging 12 hole course through the woods including a few requiring hammers.  Almost getting lost worked to our advantage as we returned home to refill our drinks only to find dinner #1 was ready.  Tri-tip, potatoes, salad and more cocktails.

After that, we needed a rest.  We adjourned to the TV for He's Just Not That Into You mixed with some Heisman awards where Manti T'eo got shafted.  Think about it...best defensive player in the country, on the best defense in the country, winner of 7 post-season awards, yet no Heisman.  I get that a Freshman is a great story and all, but really, show some guts and do something new.

Breakfast #2

Double 9 needs much counting.

Then came dinner number 2.  Lina ripped into the kitchen to show off her cookeration skills, making lamb and some awesome sauce that I was able to steal to put on my steaks.  She also made me like cauliflower, which, if you know me, is no easy task whatsoever.

Then it was time for Beirut.  JD and I re-formed our unholy alliance and proceeded to demolish anyone else who stepped on the table.    I'm talking to the tune of undefeated, including one shut out. There are evenings when you don't feel you can miss.  On this evening, I forgot what missing even felt like.  4 cups in a row?  No problem.  Two balls in the same cup?  Easy.  Hitting a final shot from 10 feet behind the actual shooting line?  Child's play.

So what do you do when it's almost midnight and you've done everything that we did in just one day?  You play Hot Tub Dominoes of course.  And yes, that's exactly what it sounds like.  I found a floaty device in the garage, pumped it up and all of a sudden we had a floating domino table in the middle of the hot tub.  I stole this idea from the game of floating Beirut we played in Mexico during the wedding festivities.

So there you have it.  1 day that basically lasted 60 hours.  The rule still applies: When you congregate to celebrate someone awesome, awesome things happen.  Za set up an amazing weekend, he made it all work, and the entire time, as I looked at a tree or saw a deer scamper by or landed a ridiculous hammer within 2 feet of the hole, I thought to myself, "Thank you buddy.  Can we do this again next weekend?"

Woodland Thuggery

Thank you domino panorama.

Instruction Manual: Taps

Here's a drinking game I was reminded of last night when no one wanted to play dominoes, Cards Against Humanity, Checkers, Taboo, Risk, Monopoly, or make a puzzle.  And when I started talking about it, no one else in the group of 10 we have at this cabin had ever played it before.  Given it's hilarious, easy to play but fun to lose, and only requires a circle of humans and a bunch of drinks, I thought I'd share it with you so you too can enjoy the game known as Taps.  I think I was taught this by Topher.

This is a directional counting game.  You object is to count as high as you can, moving around the circle using hand signals as you count out loud.  For beginners, getting to 20 is usually the goal.  You need at least 3 people to play, but there's no limit to how many can play.  The count and rotation must go smoothly and quickly.  A hesitation, a missed hand signal, the wrong person making a hand signal, basically any point that messes up the count or isn't the correct move results in the person who made the mistake taking a drink.  After they've taken the drink, they begin the count again at 1.  You must be strict with the rule.  It's easy to count as high as you want in this game if you allow sloppy moves to count.  If the move does not keep the rhythm of the rotation, stop and drink.

1)  Get your drink.
2)  Sit in a circle.

There are three types of hand signals:

1)  The signal for any number that is not a multiple of 5.  This signal, as shown below, can point right or left.

2)  The signal for any number ending in 5 (5, 15, 25, etc)  The trick with this number is that the direction it point changes depending on which number you're on.  At 5, this hand signal points with the bottom hand.  At 15, the direction is dictated by the top hand.  At 25, it's back to the bottom hand and so on.

3)  Signal for any multiple of 10.  The person at 10 picks whoever they want in the circle, points to them and says, "10."  However, at 20, 40, 60 if you ever get that high, you point and DON'T say the number out loud.  So, 10, 30, 50, say the number out loud and point, on the even multiples, point but don't speak.

To begin, pick the player you want to start, have them say, "1" while making one of the two signals in (1) above.  If they go left hand across to their right shoulder, the person to their right says, "2" while making their signal go to the direction of their choice.  If it is their left hand to right shoulder, the person to their right is 3.  If it's their right hand to their left shoulder, it goes back to the person who said one.  Same for 3 and 4, and then comes the hand signal for 5.  Six is back to the cross over the chest move until 10 which brings in the point, 11 is back to the cross over the chest.  And so on.  

You get the point.  Ready, set, drink.

Where Childhood Meets Academia

Let's Go Little Joe!

A B A B A B duck.  A B A B A B dodge.

I've done them all.  If you're an early 80s child like myself, you probably know that I'm talking about the best way to defeat Glass Joe.  If you don't know who Glass Joe is, and don't recognize the picture here, maybe you were living under a rock or were in one of those households that swore off Nintendo as devil worship.  But in my house, unless you could reach and beat Soda Popinski, you were nothing.

I grew up playing Tyson, watching Tyson, and then watching as Tyson slowly unraveled everything he had built for himself following his rescue from the streets.  The loss due to lack of preparation, the rape conviction, and then the sad decline of his boxing skills until he decided to go cannibal on Evander Holyfield.  As a sports fan as well as a history fan, watching the demise of one of the most feared boxers to ever live, and a man that as a kid I felt was invincible, was a sad wake up call to the brevity of glory in the world of athletics.  It taught me a lot, but at the same time, I guess even now as Tyson moves to cameo roles in movies I still wish for one more moment of boxing glory from him.  I want to rewind the tape of time and have him beat Buster Douglas.  Would he have gone on to be the greatest boxer to ever live?  More importantly, would his continued invincibility in the ring save him from himself outside of it, as well as saving his victim from the most horrendous crime a man can commit?  We can't know, but when you watch his knock out rounds from the beginning of his career and rise to glory, you can't help but wonder.

In college I took a Theater class focused on Solo Performance.  In it, we'd pick topics and write monologues to perform.  Then, we polished one piece, and performed it on stage for an audience as the final.  Mine was about smoking on campus and then hitting on my Spanish teacher.  But the class in general put a love for the solo performer in me, so now when I see monologues and 1-man shows, they strike a chord.  Naturally, when I heard about Tyson's one man show, Undisputed Truth, I was intrigued, especially when I heard an excerpt of his story about coming home during his divorce from Robin Givens to find her sleeping with a then unknown Brad Pitt.

Then this week they announced he'd be doing a show at the Orpheum in March.  I had to buy a ticket.  Whether it's a train wreck or a masterpiece is anyone's guess, but overall reviews of the show have been positive and at the very least, I'll get to see an icon from my childhood who turned sour take the stage to tackle a performance medium that I love.  More than that, it's a true tale of redemption.  Here's a man who left the lowest of slums to reach the heights of boxing fame, only to allow hubris to dismantle his career, crime to push him to the prison boxing originally saved him from, and lavish expenditures and drugs to drain the fortune he had built.  Here he realizes the second act.  Cleaned up from drugs, taking a hard and honest look at his life, and sharing both the funny and unfunny from what has been one of the more tumultuous athletic careers of the last 50 years, Tyson puts himself in an open and vulnerable position.  But from a man who has lived his life, both good and bad, in the spotlight, trading in his former ring invincibility for theatrical vulnerability may just be the toughest battle yet.

And who knows, maybe, just maybe, he'll do a little of Phil Collins for the true believers.

This One's For You, Pops!

I blame this on my Dad, and you should too.  After letting this blog lay dormant for almost two years, moving on to other things, and spending more time reading than writing, he asked me about Now's In Between the other day and said he missed reading it.  Hell, I didn't even know he read it to begin with, other than that one time he told me he thought I was drinking too much alcohol on the weekends (Happy Father's Day to me!)

But then I started thinking about it and I was like, hey, I may be older now, but I'm wiser, and I still live a more exciting and adventurous life than most people I know, and definitely more dynamic and well-rounded than all the married couples I know who have faded into their single focus domestic pursuits (more power to 'em if they're happy,) so why shouldn't I be on here sharing my exploits?  And hell, if my Dad is the only one who wants to read it, I love you Dad, you're awesome, and I thank you and Mom and P every day for every bit of the person I've become.  Well, maybe not the socialite part of me...you're more of a hermit in that regard.

I also feel a strong urge to start writing again.  Something, anything...reading my older posts got me a bit inspired.  I feel more alive somehow when I'm writing, like my brain wants to jump out of my head, do a dance around the room and then sing showtunes.  I've used ultimate frisbee team emails to fill that void, but it simply isn't enough and has an audience of 17.  And while writing is a bit like working out, being harder to get back to once you've put it down, I have no doubt that I can, and probably better than before as I shed old habits, pick up new tricks and expand my focus.  I also don't want people on the Interwebs to think I died in 2010 and didn't invite them to my funeral.  That'd be some rude shit on my part.

So...what have I done since March 28th, 2010?  Everything short of selling my belongings, moving to a foreign country and becoming a priest.  Although, as this post indicates, someone forgot to tell me that people don't blog anymore in 2012. They just Tumblr.

I finished my Master's degree, got a job, lost a job, got a better, higher paying job with less responsibility, and started paying off my Master's debt.  I lost a girlfriend, then said good riddance to a fake friend who set out to sleep with said ex-girlfriend a week after we broke up, got back together, broke up again and then found out I had matured since I was 22 and was able to remain friends with her after the break up.  For someone who erases the slate and starts fresh after the pain of a break up, usually burning the bridge with a stick of dynamite, finding a way to be friends again was a huge step for me.  I didn't go all Bill Murray in Broken Flowers and start rekindling relationships with all of my exes or trying to have make-up sex with them, but that isn't to say that I didn't consider it for a time.  ABols taught me a great deal about myself, relationships, the endings of relationships, and the beginnings of new friendships, which I thank her for.

I relaxed my grip and said goodbye to a few long term friendships that didn't make sense or offer support anymore, and said hello to a variety of fun and exciting new friendships that expanded my horizons and social circles.  They say as you age that the circles you move in get smaller and more fixed, but that hasn't been my experience.  Funny how time and situations slowly but surely reveal the people who are truly there for you vs. the ones who like how the words sound when they say them but don't know how to back them up when you need it.

Had a summer fling with a girl I knew from high school, bought into it when she told me she was falling in love, started falling myself and then she stood me up one night and never returned any of my attempts to contact her.  I even sent a hand written letter in the mail...who does that these days?  And still no response.  Don't know what happened there, but it was undeniably the strangest and possibly most painful ending to a relationship I've ever endured because of the abrupt uncertainty of it all.  I still wake up some days hoping that she'll call.  Strange how someone can hurt you badly, to a point you know you should no longer care or want them around, but feelings for the times and memories you shared together can outweigh all of that and still give you a broken type of hope, like a bird with one bad wing determined to leave the ground.

What, you thought I'd write about all my triumphs but not mention the hard stuff?  Then how could you ever trust me to tell you the truth?  I may be anonymous, but that doesn't mean I can be dishonest.

I won four Ultimate Frisbee league championships in San Francisco as captain of the team, learned how to ride, then bought a motorcycle, and finally ditched the 10 year old futon bed from college in exchange for a bed that an adult somewhere might actually own.  Bought some pretty little gold fish, bought some new fish when they died, and bought two new bookshelves because my stacks of books started taking over my bedroom.

I went to about 7 weddings, including ones in Mexico, Denver, Boston and San Francisco.  I got drunk at all of these, yet still managed not to offend any of the brides during any of my speeches.  Although looking back, that probably would have been more amusing.

I turned 30, which was a classy black tie affair.  Actually, it was a bar crawl in San Francisco that I wore a tuxedo to while making my friends wear at least a suit and tie.  No, I don't feel older.  In fact, the fact that I haven't yet made anyone intentionally or accidentally pregnant makes me feel younger than my peer set.

One of my sisters got married and moved to Thailand, the other one had two kids to add to her first and bought a house in the Mormon heart of Utah.  This is great because it gives me a few people to corrupt later down the line.  Hopefully one if not both of these sisters will move back to California soon, because if I can tell you one thing, it's being the only child out of three still within a 50 mile radius of your parents is not easy.  Suddenly all the hopes, dreams, problems and hardships are yours to deal with while your siblings get to check in on Skype every once in a while.

Went through three more roommates that I thoroughly enjoyed, watched the Giants win 2 World Series, and helped a few people avoid arrest on a few occasions through sharp thinking, quick talking and a humble spirit of dealing with police.  I gave up buzzed driving to and from San Francisco in exchange for a Caltrain-BART arrangement.  This means I'm partying more and worrying about getting caught or dead less.  It's a very good thing.  50 dollars for a cab sounds a lot better than 10,000 for a DUI.

Kept seeing movies, kept listening to new music, kept being ridiculous.  Kept being irreverent, abrasive and over the top on Twitter.  Bought a new computer, bought a new TV and bought myself a new social life. Reading that sentence again I feel the need to point out that I do not mean that I was paying for escorts.  Got several new tattoos, which I look at daily as I think about where I've come from and where I'm going.  I also wonder constantly what the coroner will think they mean without me there to explain them.

Basically, I kept loving everything I'm doing while having enough amazing events and people in my life to overlook the occasional bump in the road.  I'd say I'm blessed, but I'm not religious, so I'll say that life has been extraordinary and I wouldn't trade the last two years for anyone else's, even Tom Brady.  And  especially not certain people that are no longer around.  I may be stupid sometimes, but I would never move to the South. And I may like Giselle, but losing a Super Bowl doesn't sound appealing to me.  And I'd never want to attend Serra like Tom did.

Rather than build lofty expectations on my return to this blog like I did in February of 2010, only to go silent again a month later, I'm just going to say I'm back, leave it at that, and let my posts speak for themselves.

In two weeks, I turn 31. And I don't intend to slow down, move aside or stop for anyone.  I'm having way too much fun here.  Join me.

Beauty of a Sunday

There's an air of detachment that hangs around Sunday that I've always enjoyed drowning in. When I sold homes, Sundays were for open houses and most of the ones I held were in out of the way streets in down market years where if I got one or two people coming through in the two and a half hours I was there, I'd count myself lucky. But this wasn't time wasted. In the homes of other people, the stillness of Sunday afternoons with the sunlight filtering through the windows and settling dust took on a noise of its own. A distant dog barking from the neighbor's yard, lone cars returning to driveways after church or time at the beach, the house kneeling down and taking a rest in the heat all became whispers of the fullness of the passing moments.

At times, the normally busy street outside my apartment patio falls dead in the waning moments of the afternoon, like the world has disappeared and left me with a vast and empty concrete playground. But it's a fragile illusion, held in place only as long as I don't step out the door and into the space of others. The phone falls silent, the birds take up residence in the tree outside and the wind brushes leaves down onto the sidewalk with soft taps.

And then, for maybe five or ten minutes, I can be truly alone.

Too. Much. Food.

I never really thought those were words I'd say, but the Super Bowl party yesterday just about broke everyone in the room. It wasn't just that almost everyone who came brought two dishes...it was the overall immense pure richness of the food. Check out the menu:

- Magic Bars. I made these, a combo of chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, coconut, graham cracker crust and other sweets. More than one may suffocate you.

- Chicken Masala. Glace made these and they were delightful. The cilantro really brought everything out.

- Chocolate cake. CellaGood brought a homemade one that looked like a football.

- Pigs in blankets. Dad and KC brought these...delectable morsels.

- Mac and 4 Cheese. Another Dad dish, but not just any Mac and Cheese...try gruyere, romano and two others. This was the consensus appetite killer at the place.

- Chili Cheese Dip. Laura brought this, a recipe from former roommates. I almost had a heart attack. Not new for me, but still.

- Mini Swiss Mushroom burgers. Short Round grilled out. Even though her skewers caught fire because forgot to soak them, these sliders were super tasty.

I'm going to have leftovers for a week.

10 Things to Think About on a Friday!

It's been far too long. I'm sure you've been bored at work on Fridays. Meanwhile, I skated through the great out of doors and the inner halls of books, shunning blog, Friday and 10 things. No longer.

1) I wrote earlier this weak about the circus that surrounds child athletes. Well, no sooner had the class of 2010 been signed than news broke about a 13 year-old quarterback who has verbally committed to USC. And, scarier yet, he's already got a youtube highlight video...From the guy who brought you Matt Leinart, Matt Barkley and Jimmy Clausen...meet David Sills.

2) Of all the places you've been in the past 6 months, which place do you most wish you could go back to?

3) Colts or Saints?

4) Have you had the throwback Pepsi products yet? The Mountain Dew is out of this world. Imagine everything you love about Mountain Dew with none of that gross sugary aftertaste.

5) I'm tired of being asked to be a fan of things on Facebook. What is the point there folks?

6) When was the last time you woke up in a cold sweat?

7) What's your favorite recipe? Yes, this means I want you to send it to me. I'm collecting.

8) If you had to choose, for the rest of your life, between only garnishing dishes with garlic and only using onions, which would you use?

9) I've been wondering...how can Peter Piper ever pick a peck of pickled peppers? To be pickled, wouldn't they need to already be picked and in jars?

10) And my favorite thought of the week from Twitter...

Kathleen: "Dude, how old is he?"

Me: "Hot." - @arundo_donax

Where TV Shows Go to Die

I'm watching Nip/Tuck right now. An easy show to watch and blog during. I'm not proud of the fact that I watch it...it's more due to an OCD to finish what I start, and the show was decent when it started. Now, it's eroded into a gross mix of soap opera and sensationalist plot lines, a shadow of its former self. Not to mention that it's about three seasons past flatline. Now in the final episodes, the show has gone to the very fringes of absurdity with story lines so crazy that I'm convinced the writers are suffering fits of paranoid delusions in their own life.

So what happened? When it started it was just about on the edge plastic surgeons who took on tricky surgeries. Somewhere along the way, it devolved into pornography, serial killers and so many family lines that it feels like the Brady Bunch, Modern Family and Arrested Development jumped in the sack together.

And as dark and twisted as it has gotten, every week I'm reminded that it was created by the same guy responsible for the up-beat, fantastic and rather "normal" Glee. Now how the hell does that make any sense?

Gotta run...Christian and Sean are about to perform a surgery to give a chimp some thumbs.

Signing Day

Today, I saw for the first time the frenzy that is National Signing Day for football recruits. Having never seen the spectacle on ESPNU before, I was a little freaked out by the parade. Here we have national television crews, on-air interviews and what basically amounts to bounty hunting for 17 year-olds. Think about it. Before most of these kids can even drive, they're getting text messages and visits from college coaches across the country. Forget the regular high school experience...most of these kids were having press conferences in their school libraries and gyms today. We've taken sports and celebrity to such a level that adolescents who can ball are seen as future cash cows for universities that don't have to pay them a dime outside of tuition, which, let's face it, the overspill from full tuition students easily covers.

So you've got merchandising, TV contracts, ticket revenue, concessions, bowl appearance fees and who knows what else all pouring millions into the university for a few free class spots. It's about as close to legal slavery as our country gets now, which is evident in the rules that forbid free meals or transportation or anything else to these "student-athletes" at risk of NCAA sanctions. Of course, the NCAA, at the head of all of this, sucks in money. But hey, that's why they're called "amateurs," right?

The kids love signing day of course. Playing right into the frenzy, you have them sitting at a table with four baseball caps, like they're about to play Eenie-Meenie-Meinie-Mo with them before they put on the school they're going to. Even more showman were the few that pulled other school hats out from under the table to trump all the ones they led on.

But I'm thinking about after all this. After the cameras have gone, the torn ACLs have added up, the concussions have ripped through the grey matter and the paychecks have ended, if they ever started. What happens then? For some, the fame is enough to ensure security through the rest of their lives. But for more, what are the options when the only thing we valued them for between the ages of 13 and 17 was what they could do on a field? Hopefully educations have taken hold, but I'm not sure that goal can be helped by all the focus on football. Have we really taught these children the right values when their draft number or ESPN ranking is more important to their future success than their GPA or Major?

Bunch of Savages in This Town!

Of course, Dante meant this as it referred to the gum jammed in his Quick Stop lock, but hasn't it really become applicable to almost everything? Our government is so irresponsible with money that on all levels, enforcement of petty laws, skyrocketing fines and an increase in the cost of everything is running rampant to cover shortfalls in funds. Years of federal bickering have crescendoed into a partisan stalemate that has all the politicians pointing fingers instead of lifting any to actually solve problems. Sure, we're all different and have different visions of what our country is supposed to look like, but have our elected officials really solved anything with years of finger pointing and media mud slinging?

I watched the 10 o'clock news the other night (I know, a big mistake, right?) and was shocked at some of the headlines. An elementary school in Oakland was broken into and 40 brand new laptops were stolen. From children. In an already economically depressed community. I know the recession has to play a factor in here, but when did things become so desperate that stealing from youth in your own community was the answer?

Then, you have Bill O'Reilly, king of all things deaf, dumb, white and blind, spouting off at Gavin Newsom about panhandling in San Francisco. He was ranting about how he went from his hotel down the street and was "accosted by seven different men." I'm not sure what street he was on, but regardless of the merits of his claim, the entire Republican population now believes it about our city. Of course, Newsom had some shmancy stats of his own to chuck back at O'Reilly about the decrease in homelessness during his run as mayor, yada yada yada.

The problem here isn't that there's panhandlers in San Francisco. The problem isn't that we can't trust a word Newsom or O'Reilly says because they're just politicians trying to spin stats to their own advantage. The major problem here is that they're actually fighting about it rather than brainstorming any ideas that might actually work to cure the problem.

But hey, an earthquake in Haiti rallies politicians of all stripes, massive text message donation campaigns and a strong stand on "doing the right thing." Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying we shouldn't help the people of Haiti, I'm just wondering why we can always agree on what we need to do to jump in and save or help people from other countries or cultures, yet we're content to scream about how the other guy doesn't want solutions when it comes to the problems facing the people within our own border. Is it that hard to do the right thing?

I'm gonna call this the "No Other Country's Children Left Behind Act" or possibly WSS - White Savior Syndrome...the need to feel like we are rescuing other countries from their disasters, their politicians, and in the end, because only America can know best what's best for others, from themselves.

One thing I know for sure...whether it be the abusive police, the partisan-sick politicians, the local thieves, the rappers glorifying drug dealing and murder or the white power base of our country convinced that we should save everyone else from themselves...there's a ton of savages in this town.

Where Did I Go Just Now?

So, it's February 1st. I know most people started their New Year's Resolutions a month ago, but given that I've kept to my 2006 resolution to never make another resolution, I couldn't very well do that now, could I? What I did decide, however, was I needed to have more consistency in my life. I figured I could eat more fiber or commit myself to writing a blog post, however brief, a day, and making sure to change my quote of the day, which I obviously haven't done in months.

Just where have I been? Where haven't I been?

I left work in September to return to school full time. I'm pursuing a Master's and enjoying thoroughly every class and minute. I feel like I'm back in college, which fits how I've always felt age wise, so it's a good thing. All the parties, the weekends, the yearly events (Pumpkin Festival, Thanksgiving, birthday, Christmas) all happened with the same amount of wildness I'm accustomed to, I just never got around to writing about any of it. So, it all happened, you just don't get to hear it. There were some outstanding things that took place, some of which I'll recount in hilarious and slightly unbelievable stories later, but for now, we'll stick to getting up to speed. I've had two roommates since we've last spoken, both of which have been fantastic and a ton of fun. I'm on the search for a new one right now, with more news of that later in the week.

Triumph and heartbreak, school work and play, friends and lovers (though you know I don't talk about that) I've had it all in the past 4 months. Of course, the "Right Now" on the side there was constantly running with my Twitter feed, but I doubt many got around to checking that with any frequency, and why should you?

What's to come? Well, since I'm going for daily, even if it's brief, it'll be something...a thought, a comment on something that happened, a suggestion for some music, anything. The quote I'll attempt to change first thing in the morning. The weekend debauchery will be a given, and I'm going to be working on incorporating some of the writing I've done offline into the posts...some essays and stories I've prepared for school, as well as some spoken word pieces I've written over the past few months will make appearances. I've also found some old journals and think that might be fun to mix in there. I'll label any of those with "Old" or something, so you don't waste your time on anything that's not a new product if you don't want to.

This is my welcome back party. Thanks for coming. The quote of the day today comes from a class I took in early January about educating exceptional children, and it's about what is called "the curse of knowledge":

"Once we know something, we find it hard to imagine what it was like to not know it." - from Made to Stick

Where did I go just now? Who cares. This is about where I'm about to go. Cheers.

August iPod Update

{for all music related posts, see .Evolving.Music}

{For the music I was listening to in July, click here.}

Well, once again I'm a bit tardy and we have the music I was listening to in August being posted on the first day of September. But, better late than never, and the August music, while a bit late, is pretty spectacular. The August iPod update covers 94 songs from 7 artists (yes, a lot of full album downloads this month), and stayed largely (and surprisingly) away from Hip-Hop. So, without further ado, here's what I'm hearing lately.

As Tall As Lions, You Can't Take it With You: Having been kicking around in various formats since 2001, ATAL has released their third album. The band, originally from New York but recording a good portion of work in Chicago, flirts with rock, Indie and folk in darker soundscapes. The sometimes low, sometimes high or falsetto voice of lead singer Dan Nigro works with lyrics often dealing with depression or anxiety over brooding tracks. Through all of these songs, a feeling of being trapped somehow persists, with snips of guitar rifts floating through deep bass lines or horns whispering in the background. But despite this, the melancholy at times reaches crescendos that speak of freedom through misery. At other points, ATAL is a runaway train of energy on a track like "In Case of Rapture," where the drums keep a frenetic pace. Don't Sleep On: "Sixes and Sevens," "We's Been Waitin," and "Home Is Where You're Happy"

Beats Antique, Tribal Derivations: Fusing old and new, Beats Antique uses World and specifically Eastern-inspired music while adapting it to Western downtempo, glitch and hip-hop. Indian chants, thick stand-up bass, lightly picked harps, sitars and other string instruments are thrown in the pot with tablas and hand drums, frequently to be sprinkled with drum machines and electronic effects. The result is an album with driving, lounging or club music. In some cases you can imagine the hookah smoke drifting around you as dancers move slowly to the tunes, while in others you can imagine a dark lounge. On "Derivation," they take portion of melody from "Summertime," and pepper it with a digeridoo and deep drums. If you're a fan of World music, this is an album for you. Don't Sleep On: "Derivation," "Intertwine," and "Discovered."

Fruit Bats, The Ruminant Band: After working on the fringes of music, Eric D. Johnson, the frontman of the Fruit Bats, signed with Sub Pop in 2002 and have been labeled by music publications as "Zoology Rock," "Boot-Gazer," and "rustic pop." The Ruminant Band is their 5th studio release and offers a sunny panoply of pastoral and easy to listen to (which is not the same as easy listening) rock tracks that feel like they could have come out of another era. Up-beat acoustic guitars back moving guitar riffs, piano dances playfully across the spectrum and Johnson's voice, high and plaintive, is reminiscent of some of Led Zeppelin's tracks. The tracks are on the shorter side, content to bring the listener along, get the idea across and move onto something else without brooding on one sound. An upbeat album perfect for a ride or camping trip, early mornings in the sunshine and dusty backroads. Don't Sleep On: "Beautiful Morning Light," "Primitive Man," and "Singing Joy to the World."

For the rest of the music I was listening to in August, click here.

Movies of August (5)

Another slow month for movies as the start of Grad School has been the main focus and TV has been running towards the summer season finales.

2: The Miracle Worker
5: On Golden Pond
6: Death Race
7: Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian
22: Romance (Couldn't find the IMDB for this, but it doesn't matter. It's a not so great French film about a woman whose husband denies her sex. Slow and not that saucy)

10 Things to Think About on a Friday

This has been one crazy week. I've started back to school and have to say that I am absolutely loving the Grad school atmosphere...a novel idea when students are expected to have their readings done when they get to class! Being back on campus is a trip, and I'm still balancing it with coaching and getting out to play ultimate. In short, I have absolutely no complaints! But you must be complaining, because it's Friday and they're still keeping you chained to that thing you call a desk. So, between now and 5, here's 10 things you can think about to occupy your time.

1) Call it Propofl, valium, xanax, whatever...it appears Michael Jackson was sadly on a lot of it when he passed away. Of course, I guess that means it shouldn't surprise anyone that they found weed in his house.

2) So a girl goes missing when she's 11 and they find her now, 29 and two kids later. Turns out she's been living in a locked shed and having children for the couple who abducted her. No, this isn't that weird Austrian story...this is in California.

3) I don't know how Jerry Jones made his billions of dollars, but something tells me he should go back to school when he builds a 1.15 Billion dollar brand new football stadium and puts the scoreboard so low that it gets hit by punts. You did know they were going to play football in there, didn't you Mr. Jones?

4) History is being made by Matt Barkley. When he starts for the Trojans at quarterback in their opener against San Jose State, he will become the first true freshmen to start at that position in SC history.

5) Do you subscribe to the cognitive or transmission theory of teaching?

6) How many children might be left behind when NCLB entreats teachers to train for a government exam rather than actual student growth?

7) Jim from The Office is getting married. No, it's not to Pam Beasley.

8) Do you remember having an "Ah-Ha!" moment in your education career, and if so, how did it happen and who helped you?

9) Would you pay a $100 ticket to go to Outside Lands, knowing that the sound cut out in the middle of Radiohead's performance not once, not twice, but more than three times last year?

10) Would you rather be a Cabbage Patch Kid or a Garbage Pail Kid and why?

That's it folks, have a great weekend and remember: it's only Rum if it's 92 proof.

10 Things to Think About on a Friday

What an amazing, busy and amazingly busy week. It started back on Sunday with a birthday party for my Mom where I managed to get my Grandma and Grandpa both to play a game of Beirut. Tuesday saw a disappointing loss in an ultimate frisbee playoff game, but I bounced back with a 6 mile run and ultimate frisbee game on Wednesday night, the very exciting class registration for Grad school yesterday, followed by an outstanding time out at Nightlife with Za (which included a stop at a bar afterwards as well as the crepe stand)...Now, I'm gearing up for a weekend that will be spent in the comfortable hands of the San Mateo County Fair. Might I say, "Banzai?" Yes, I might. But before you get into the comfortable hands of who or whatever you're trusting this weekend, here's 10 things to think about.

1) In terms of being pissed about something going on in the judicial realm, I think the freeing of the Lockerbie bomber this week is absolutely horrendous. This man put a bomb on a plane, killed over 280 people, got a life sentence, and has just been released from jail because he has prostate cancer and only three months to live, and Scotland wanted to show humanity by allowing him to die at home.

Am I missing something here? Did he allow the innocent men and women he killed to die at home? Did he offer them any compassion or understanding? No, he put a bomb on their plan and then took satisfaction when it blew up over Scotland. The man was given a life sentence (of which he served 8 YEARS) for this crime, which should mean his life. I don't care if he has cancer. He should die in prison, a tiny box that he can't escape from, just as he condemned innocent people to die 20 years ago. Worst of all? Upon returning to Libya, he was given a hero's welcome. How's that for compassion for the dead?

2) Wanna kill yourself without dying? How about trying out for the Badwater Ultra Marathon?

3) Gotta love this...swimsuits that jibe with the Muslim tradition of covering the female body.

4) It's almost time for the new season of America's Next Top Model! I'm quite excited for this year, not because of Tyra or Paulina or any of the other super cool guest judges (I'll refrain from showering too much man-love on Nigel Barker), but because the max height on this season is 5'7". Bets on how often we hear girls in the house referring to each other as "Shorty."

5) I must say, these clips of Heath Ledger's last movie, a Terry Gilliam flick, look spooky good. I'm interested to see how much he had filmed of it before his death.

6) What can it mean for music if Radiohead is "done" making albums and will only be releasing songs? It sounds interesting, but would Kid A really have the same impact piecemeal? To me, it was always the cohesiveness of the album that truly showed their brilliance as a band.

7) David Foster Wallace finally got some much needed pop culture recognition this week when his masterpiece, Infinite Jest, was shown briefly in the newest episode of Weeds. For those of you who don't know about him or haven't read his work, here's a great article on a person I consider potentially the greatest American fiction author of the 20th century.

8) There's a lot of back and forth lately between proponents and opponents of the new health care package. I don't mind people feeling one way or another about it, but it seems that partisan politics and scare tactics have lead to a situation where not many people actually know what's REALLY going on with this bill. While this article doesn't speak to all of it, it does tackle some of the more commonly held myths surrounding Obama's health care push. My jury is still out until I see actual legislation.

9) In news I can really get behind, a judge has fast-tracked the dispute over gay marriage to hit the courthouse docket in January of 2010. Just out of curiosity, what part of "land of the free" do people trying to ban gay marriage not understand? Oh, I'm sorry, it's only about your freedom? How carelessly thoughtless of me.

10) Finally, because I love to eat and eat well, and have become increasingly concerned that one of my favorites, foie gras, might be disappearing due to the feeding techniques used to produce it (not that pigs, chickens and cows in this country don't all live in worse conditions), I was very happy to see this article about a man who has now won awards for free range, non-force fed foie gras. Wunderbar!

Farewell, McButter!

Last Friday night was a sad time indeed, as San Francisco and the rest of our crew had to bid adieu to McButter, one of my favorite dancing partners, as she moved away to New York. So crucially important to her workplace, McButter was transferred for the year to the East Coast so she could jump start a program and make it work. They say it's for a year, but I believe that the glitz, glamor and girls of New York might convince her to stick around a little bit longer.

In celebration, we had a going away party, and as with all good things that are devilishly bad, the party was held at 666 Post in the city. If you're ever looking for a good rooftop to crash and smoke some js on, this is the place (just find the top floor). Upon entering, the building looks like the Tower of Terror at Universal with all sorts of vintage architectural features. I left the apartment at around 9 with Sis and Short Round, a travel bottle of Rum and Coke in tow.

When we get upstairs, the place is pretty crowded already, and a 5 foot wide kitchen contributes to the first accident of the night...as I've just finished filling up my cup with Rum and Coke, Za makes a wild hand gesture and succeeds in flipping the cup out of my hand, end over end in the air. I look down and Rum and Coke is all over the floor, and I look like I've wet myself because it just had to land on my crotch. I think that damage is pretty bad, until the girl standing at the sink turns around and glares. It is then that I realize that while the floor got a good portion of my drink, she has it all over her back. Za is laughing and doesn't notice as the girl makes a sprint for the bathroom. Of course, I do derive a bit of pleasure from this incident as it forces Za to dab at my jeans with napkins, trying to get the drink out.

The party for the rest of the night bounces between the dance floor in the apartment and the unbelievable smoking rooftop. Of course, no party would be complete without someone being a complete and utter jackass, and we're given that at around 1 am. A man comes in and very loudly asks everyone to be quiet, commanding attention. He does it in a way that speaks of authority, so everyone shuts up and the music gets turned down. When he has everyone looking at him, he says, "I'm the landlord of this building, and I need you to turn the music up!!!" Now, he obviously did this thinking he was bad ass and very cool and we were all going to love him, but really people are just kinda annoyed that he made them be quiet just to announce that. It goes over even less well when he pulls the same stunt 15 minutes later.

And that's about the night of it. As the party winds down, McButter knows it's one of her last chances for crepes in the city, so her, myself, Za, Sis and Short Round hop in the car for yet another crepe run to end the evening. McButter is gone now, but thankfully in this day and age, New York is only an IM away.