It's Friday and You Aint Got Shit To Do

So, last night was a little crazy.

I met up with Dan at his place, where Elyse, The Famous Ben King and Crackhead Chris has already gathered. I don’t think I mentioned it, what with the stomach flu and all, but there was a little incident last weekend with Crackhead Chris threatening my life. Dan’s pretty sure he was kidding, but I’m a little wary nonetheless.

In any case, I met up with the group after they had already started drinking. As Dan finished writing up his story for the newspaper, Elyse, Ben and I shared a blunt. Crackhead Chris put on the Stones and he and Ben started doing their best Mick impressions up and down Dan’s room. They actually did a pretty good job. I asked Chris to put on Wild Horses for me and somewhere along the lines of him serenading me with it, he somehow got it into his mind that Wild Horses was my most favorite song of all time.

Dan and I finally organized the troops to move to the bar. Ben demanded we stop at the corner store and get a drink for the long walk to the bar. For reference purposes, it’s like 7 blocks. Short ones. Anyway, when we got to the liquor store, Elyse asked the liquor store dude if the piñatas hanging from the ceiling were for sale. He said no, but she could have one for free. The Famous Ben King borrowed a step ladder and pulled it down for her. The funniest part being we of course left it somewhere during the course of the evening.

So for some reason, I was feeling ignored by Dan, which did not make me very happy. We talked and worked it out (I love that we never actually have arguments or anything. It’s always just issue, discuss, resolve, over it.) Anyway, I was feeling ignored and was therefore acting like a brat. Chris observed some difference between Dan and I and said “well, guess you guys weren’t meant to be after all. Guess you’ll just have to break up.” So I turned to Dan and said “alright, we’re broken up. Bye.” And started to walk away. Usually when I pull that shit, Dan grabs my arm before I’m even able to take a step. This time he let me walk, when I was feeling ignored anyway. So after about 10 feet I turn and say to Dan, “You’re not even coming after me?” And Chris said “Sweetheart, you know if you break up with Dan, you’re breaking up with the whole group of us. And I just don’t think you could tangle with this bunch. So get your ass back over here.” And that was funny. Not so much funny ha ha, but funny like that’s very true and Chris may very well kill me some day.

We headed over to Mission Bar, which was packed and sucked. I’ve been to Mission Bar four times now. Two of them were packed and horrible, two of them were deserted and wonderful. I’m drawn on the Mission Bar, but I tend to dislike it. I have no idea why Dan loves it so much. Anyway, after Fong had met up with us we headed out of Mission Bar to check out Benders. Around this time, Crackhead Chris decided he absolutely, positively needed to do some blow. On the way to Benders, Chris and Elyse decided we should go to the international bar on 19th. I think Chris was just playing the odds game on his blow search. Dan and I talked them out of that place and proceeded to Benders – where their was a cover. We walked on to Theives, ordered beers and Chris promptly puked in the garbage can.

Dan, being the wonderful friend and boyfriend he is, walked off to play Wordster with Alex Fong while I babysat Chris. Chris was just in love with Paul, the bartender, for some reason. He kept yelling at him about the As, luckily they’re both fans. Other Chris stunts of the evening were him serenading me again with Wild Horses and grabbing some stranger’s beer, directly out of the guy’s hand, and trying to drink it. I don’t know why Chris doesn’t get his ass kicked more often. Dude was cool about it and I promptly reprimanded Chris with a “No! NO! NO, BAD CHRIS! You DO NOT steal stranger’s beers! Bad, BAD Chris!” Funnily enough, he just turned and stared at me with lost puppy dog eyes. Exactly like when I reprimand TJ. So Ben and Elyse had disappeared to make out or something and I pulled Dan aside to point out I didn’t know how long Paul was going to put up with Chris’ antics for. Dan argued for half a second, then looked at Chris and said “yeah, I see. Um…let me just finish my drink then.”

After we left, the group decided food was in order. Some genius decided Mr. Pizza Man was the best option and so we actually ate there. As we passed the restaurant, the entire kitchen staff happened to turn and stare at us as we walked past their window. All glaring. Chris started to freak out because “Mr. Pizza Man hates us!” But a desire for chicken wings prevailed and Chris, Dan, Fong and I ordered while Ben and Elyse walked off to make out or something. Wild Horses came on again in Mr. Pizza Man, so Chris serenaded me again as I babysat him while Dan and Fong smoked outside.

I had to go to the bathroom badly and Mr. Pizza Man’s bathroom was honestly one of the worst I have ever seen. So, I made Dan take me home and Fong bring us our food when it was ready. The food was bad, bad, bad (as it always is from Mr. Pizza Man) and the blue cheese dressing for the chicken wings separated into some clear oily substance and chunks of cheese. Ok, I get that’s basically what the dressing is anyway, but it melted or something and was fucking disgusting. The worst part being, El Farolito was still open when we walked past.

So we’re back at Dan’s house and Fong brings us food. Then Ben and Elyse wander in. Finally Chris shows up after his final attempt to get blow failed (sorry, but I was joyful. I fucking hate that shit.) We’re all eating and drinking and smoking and chilling when Ben makes some ordinary comment. Dan gives him a smart ass response, to which Ben replies, yelling “FUCK YOU DAN, I’M SO FUCKING SICK OF YOUR FUCKING SHIT.” Calm, mellow, chill as fuck Ben. And then Ben leans back on the couch and immediately passes out. Probably my favorite moment all night. Chris had passes out on Dan’s kitchen floor by then (ewwwwwwww) so Dan and I told Elyse g’night and peaced out.

Pretty amusing all in all.

I'm Alive!

Well, even though everyone probably thinks I fell off the face of the planet, I actually just got the stomach flu and was crying on the bathroom floor while puking for three days. See, this is why I never go to the East Bay. I go there for three fucking hours and end up sick for three fucking days. Fuck you Berkeley, fuck you!

Anyway, I spent last weekend partying with Dan et al. It was Elyse's birthday on Sunday, we were kind of assholes about that. She wanted to go to Club Six on Saturday night and we more or less refused...and then hung out next door at the Arrow Bar while everyone else partied it up at Six (well, Dan P. was an asshole with us. So it's ok then.) Then on Sunday I ended up sleeping all day so I didn't even call her to tell her happy birthday. Ah well.

Sunday night I went to bed around 10 and everything was totally fine. Dan woke me up when he got in around midnight and I was doubled over with a stomach ache. I fell back asleep and woke up around 2, puking. Kept puking for another 12 hours. Slept for another 24. Tried eating toast, puked for another 12 hours. Finally, I started getting better on Wednesday. DAMN. That sucked.

So, here I am, finally back at work. It's kinda cool that I have such a lameass job, if for no other reason then there really wasn't even much catch up for me to do. Woo hoo. But I'm back here now, hating it as much as ever. [Note: I had this period of insanity early Thursday morning when I was really, really happy to be back at work. That period has luckily passed and I'm back to loathing every second of this miserable job.]

I had my first solo big girl meeting today with the former president of the SF Ad Club (like, when it was a real club. Not like now. Fucking fakers...) Bossman only gave me about 20 minutes warning that said meeting was taking place, so I classically strolled in wearing flip flops and jeans. Didn't even fix my hair. Gotta love it. But the meeting went really well, dude seemed to like me. He said he was "impressed with how professionally I've taken over the club" and "the quality of work I put into it." Right, I'd love for him to see me bitching to Rene behind the scenes about SFAKE and how much I hate the steaming pile of bull shit.

No big weekend plans....except going to Target!!! I heart Target so much I would marry it if I could. Although, considering corporations have most of the rights of individuals, maybe someday America can take it's corporate consumer love to the next level. I could dream, right.

So 82 minutes until the weekend. And if the last 158 minutes has taught me anything, it's that these next 82 minutes will be loooooooonnnnnnnnggggggggggg ones.

Chas Rocks (When He's Not Getting Me Sick)

Mighty Morphin' Power Murderers!

Former child actor faces murder charge Prosecutors: Wealthy couple thrown overboard

Wednesday, August 17, 2005 Posted: 2050 GMT (0450 HKT)



SANTA ANA, California (Reuters) -- A former child actor and his wife were ordered to stand trial Tuesday for the murder of a wealthy California couple who, prosecutors say, were tied to the anchor of their yacht and thrown overboard alive, never to be seen again.

Orange County Superior Court Judge John Conley ordered 26-year-old Skylar Deleon, who once starred in the "Power Rangers" TV series, and his wife, 24-year-old Jennifer Henderson Deleon, to stand trial for the murders after a two-day preliminary hearing in Santa Ana, south of Los Angeles.

Also bound over for trial in the case, which baffled police for months as they searched for the missing couple, were a member of the Crips street gang and a prison guard who are accused of helping carry out a conspiracy to steal the 55-foot luxury yacht "Well Deserved."

"It's haunting to think these nice, loving people were trying to hold their breaths as they sank to the bottom of the ocean," Deputy District Attorney Matt Murphy said during the hearing. "This is as cold-blooded as it gets."

Prosecutors say Deleon came up with the plot after spotting the yacht for sale in a boating magazine last November and meeting owners Thomas Hawks, 57, and his 47-year-old wife Jackie.

He is accused of enlisting the help of 40-year-old gang member John Fitzgerald Kennedy and ex-jailer Alonso Machain, 21, to carry out the murder on November 15, 2004. Machain has since confessed to police and will be tried separately.

Attorneys for the Deleons rejected the charges and during the hearing attacked the credibility of Machain, who is expected to be a star witness for the prosecution.

A police detective testified during the hearing that Deleon and his then-pregnant wife posed as interested buyers and convinced the Hawks to take the yacht on a test run.

Miles off the coast of Newport Beach, prosecutors say, Thomas and Jackie Hawks were attacked with a stun gun, handcuffed and gagged with duct tape. After signing over power of attorney to one assailant, they were tied to the boat's 66-pound anchor and thrown overboard.

The couple was reported missing by relatives and police were led to the Deleons, who produced a bill of sale for the yacht and the power of attorney. Authorities believe the bill of sale was falsified.

Police also found that Deleon had unsuccessfully tried to access the Hawks' bank account in Arizona using the power of attorney.

**Note: Ernest (from the office) tells me that dude "wasn't even a real Power Ranger, he was, like, an extra on one or two shows." So there you go.

And, Did I Mention

that the Western Addition is the most deadly neighborhood in the city!

Ha ha ha ha ha!

It's a Small, Small World After All

Here's a funny story for ya!

So I used to live at a charming little apartment in Lower Haight known as "The Crack Den" to, well, everyone. Calling it a crack den was a misnomer, of course, because, as far as I know, crack was one of the few drugs not done there. The roommates at the crack den were a very interesting bunch:

Carlos - The daddy of our dysfunctional family, Carlos lived with his wealthy sugar daddy (sugar baby? dude was, like, a decade younger than Carlos) in Hawaii 9 months of the year. He would fly to SF for pride and other dragstravaganzas, but mainly was totally unreachable. His greatest contribution to the household was his cat that lived there. She was a little bitch. And I hated his friends who came to feed her too. But Carlos had cancer so he was good for pot cookies. I liked that a lot.

Francisco - Francisco and I were at one end of the house and the other bedrooms were at the other end. So Francisco and I bonded a lot over a shared hatred of the living quarters. Francisco worked at Eros in the Castro as a gay sex worker. Yup, you read that right, he was a gay sex worker. Let me tell you, I never asked him how work went. Francisco was nice in a "gay boy from a small town just moved to the city" sort of way.

Revolving door - Very small room which was super shitty and we overcharged for it. I don't think anyone stayed more than a month or two here. There was a creepy art student I remember and a nice girl. God this room sucked.

Eric - Oh, Eric. Eric was the reason we called it the crack den. Which was grossly unfair as Eric was a speed freak. Eric was a classic speed freak. Didn't shower. Didn't sleep. Didn't pay rent. Had shady ass people (usually 10-15) over all the time. Stole. Lied. Violent. Crazy. We hated Eric, but couldn't get him to leave. Literally. I got to know so many guys at the Northern Precinct station because of Eric. I'm still afraid of Eric. Every once in a while I think I see him and I start to have a panic attack as I flee the scene. Oh, Eric...

So I finally moved out of the crack den after a certain event with one of Eric's charming friends, Micah. Micha had a little crush on yours truly. Despite trying to woo me with such lines as "you know I've done time, right?" I never warmed to him. One night someone pounded on my (deadbolted) bedroom door at, like, 3 in the morning. They didn't stop so I finally got out of bed to check it out. There was Micha, totally strung out, holding a butcher's knife. He started walking towards me and I started to panic, thinking "wow, so this is how I die." Rather than slice me from gullet to gills as I expected, he gently handed the knife to me and told me to think of him every time I use it. I grabbed the knife, shoved Micah out of my room and re-deadbolted the door. Then I called Momma to tell her I was moving. Immediately. Cost be damned. Momma agreed.

So what's the point of this story? I'm interviewing some dude tomorrow that lives at...The Crack Den! What are the fucking odds of that? And he lists embroidery as one of his special skills. Let me tell you, I am soooooo looking forward to this interview!

Micah, by the way, later went on to date Magda, everybody's favorite strung out USF speed freak. It really is a fucking small world.

Grad School Options

1. Syracuse
2. Stirling (cross your fingers!)
3. New School (the good one in NY, not the crappy one in SF)
4. Johns Hopkins

Yeah, I'm just as surprised by that last one as you. But they have a media research program (no telling as to how good it is though.) Now I just need to wait for their brochures to arrive at my house in 2 - 8 weeks and I can check them out. Yay!

I Heart Plagiarizing From Other Blogs

Okay, Tara Reid. Take a seat, baby, because we need to talk.

You do realize that you have a problem, right? That when your behavior and appearance makes Paris Hilton look like Grace Kelly, something has gone horribly, horribly wrong? Also, that your new fake boobs are really, really too big and, honestly, that smooshing them down like that is neither comfortable, nor flattering?

Do I have to be blunt here?

Okay.

You're THIRTY DAMN YEARS OLD. YOUR LIFE SHOULDN'T BE A GIRLS GONE WILD VIDEO TWENTY FOUR HOURS A DAMN DAY. GET A GODDAMNED GRIP.

And buy a shirt that fits. Jeezy Chreezy. My boobs hurt just looking at you, kiddo.
(Go Fug Yourself)

Discretion on Public Transportation

So I get on to the 24 last night and it was empty except for a couple seated in the second row of seats. I sat down in the front row. Then the girl turned to the guy and said, "look at her earrings. I should have worn my hooker earrings tonight."

Now, mind you this is an empty bus. Which means a silent bus. And I was, after all, sitting a mere 1.5 feet away from this conversation. There is no way for me to have missed what she had said, unless I was deaf or didn't speak the language. But I'm not and I do and I think that most Americans assume most people they see in America (a) are not hearing impaired and (b) speak the language. Which leads me to my point, can we have a little discretion while on public transport, people? What the fuck?!? I'm all about making fun of the shit people wear and do on the bus, but I certainly make sure I am out of ear shot before doing so. What assholes. And it was this fat fag hag chick and little eurotrash fag. The girl was wearing a Canadian tuxedo, for the love of god. What do they know?

And for the record, those earrings are totally not hooker hoops.

Jimmed Part Deux

So I'm trying to work out a phrase for when you get totally fucked over because you were jimmed. This is what I've come up with so far:

Jimmed all night long
Jimmed sideways
Bent over a table and jimmed
Jimmed up the ass
Jucked

suggestions???

So A Rabbi Walks Into A Bar

and for some reason Jew jokes are just funny. Haha funny, I swear.

Heh...Blogs...

Hottest tech trend of 2005, my ass.

I Swear, I'm Cool Now (aka The Longest Blog Entry Ever)

So, I had a long talk last night with Di and she straightened me out on life. I love Di so much, she's the best fake sister a girl can have! I had a moment when I felt really sad that I called Di for sisterly advice rather than, say, one of my sisters. But we all know that Mel doesn't count and it was 10pm so Kate probably would have been pissed had I called her up at midnight (Chitown) to discuss my stupid preoccupations. Anyway, Di straightened me out and I feel much better and I've chilled a lot. Now I just need to remind myself to stay chill.

Oh, and many people have asked if I'm flipping out about my review. No - fuck that shit. I had my review and exactly what I thought was going to happen happened. My review wasn't great, bossman was a dick, I got a puny raise. Blech. It was just really disappointing that I was so down about my review, but I predicted everything exactly.

Anyway, I've had nothing to do today (I love it! Love it!) So I've been spending most of the morning researching grad schools. God, I want to go to Stirling so badly...but sadly I don't think that's in the cards for me. So I started looking at Syracuse again pretty seriously.

On a side note, I understand that Syracuse is going to suck shit and I'm going to hate it. I will be cold. I will be lonely. I will be sad. TJ will also be cold and sad (she doesn't have any friends, so you can't get any lonelier than that.) I will be miserable. I know about the snow. And the heat. And how I won't be able to wear flip-flops year round. I know all this. And there is one thing that prevails over all other facts: his name is Robert Thompson. Fuck you Robert Thompson for being brilliant and the #1 US media scholar AND for deciding to be based out of Syracuse. Fuck you. *Sigh* But I digress...

So, Syracuse then. Upstate New York. Woo.

Looking at their programs, it really does seem like the place to which I'm meant to matriculate. Their media management program looks pretty cool. It's not necessarily my passion, but it may be a much more lucrative choice than their media studies program. Now the media studies program, damn that shit looks fun! It's almost exactly the same track I chose in college. And we all know what a dork I am and how much I loved that shit. So I'm pretty sure I would take to it like a duck to water. About 50% of the media studies grads go on to PhDs (which is what I would probably do) and the rest pretty much go on to executive positions. So that's very encouraging.

One funny note, looking through the future career options for the different programs it seems like an almost steady 50% of students go on to doctorate degrees and the other 50% go on to executive positions. Not so for PR...most of their grads go on to AAE positions. Whoa - that's shitty. There's no point in even getting a masters when you're going on to an AAE position. Also, look at the earning potential there. SF is an insane advertising market and AAEs make about $30,000 a year here. If you lived in Atlanta or the midwest or something, you'd be looking at making about $20-25,000 a year as an AAE. AEs really only make about $35,000 in SF. So...basically you'd pay more for your masters in PR then you could hope to recoup. What idiots. But I guess that's PR for ya :)

So at this juncture, I would like to introduce the first ever Western Edition poll. Please post your answers in the comments section!

Q: Would I be a pussy for going to domestic grad school?

I've Done Gone Crazy

Time is fabulous. I love time. It's like breathing...it's quite a handy thing until it aint there any more. My one qualm with time? You get enough of it and you start crazy obsessing on stupid ass shit. Or at least I do. Wait...you don't?

So I've had a lot of time on my hands lately, both at work and at home. What have I done with it? Well, firstly I've absolutely adored all the alone time. Secondly, I've been spending way too much time thinking about certain topics. What topics? No matter...what we are more concerned with is my ability to become totally and completely obsessed with something that doesn't matter at all, which I know doesn't matter and I can even rationalize it not mattering...but I can't get it out of my head. What's up with that shit? I'm really over it. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to take certain thoughts and just remove them from your consciousness altogether. Granted, that would probably serve society much better as some sort of a victim recovery process rather than "stop me from going crazy" but I think the point remains. If modern science can map the human genome, clone human beings AND make Britney Spear's boobs change size by multiple cups every two months, they can sure as hell do something about ridding one of repetitive thoughts.

Well, until then, at least there's tequila. Mmmmm....tequila....

Random Thought of the Day

You know how Donald Trump's "thing" is always proclaiming this or that thing is the greatest in the world...is that some sort of play off his name? Like, he trumps all? Just wondering.

Long Islands - A Good Way To Start the Weekend

A fun weekend, albeit not the most productive.

After work Rene and I stopped by YB. Well, not really YB, we actually stopped by Mr. Smokescrackalot's alley way, but the effect was the same. After that we headed on over to some yuppie-ass bar in the financial district for a required work happy hour. Bossman was caught up with server issues so he gave me cash and told me to hold down the fort. Clearly my interpretation of that was: "Long Islands for everyone!" So, we forced the intern and the new kid to get Long Islands and then after that there was enough peer pressure to persuade everyone. I got trashed (yay! my first work event I got trashed at...despite working here for over a year!) and most people did too (Shit bossman even said to me "Kiddo - you're in charge next week!) After happy hour, Rene and I walked Rabbit back to Market, stopping at YB again on the way. When I got home I took TJ for a walk, more she walked me as I was in one sorry ass state. Then I sat down to play with her for "just a minute" and then it was Saturday morning.



Saturday I putzed around until it was time to give blood. Now, I hate to hate on an organization like the Blood Center - but I had an appointment for 1 and they made me wait an hour and a half. It's like, what's the point of making an appointment? I understand why they wouldn't want to dissuade any walk-ins, but damn, put them at the bottom of the list. I was considering walking out, but that made me feel like a babykiller or something. Anyway, they finally took my blood and I stumbled home to rest. Saturday night Di took me on a proper date: dinner and a movie. Dinner was yummy, the movie was pretty lame. But at least it was nice to be treated like a lady.

On Sunday I went to Stern Grove to check out the opera. I tried to kill as many birds with one stone as possible and so I managed to hang out with Jamie and Melissa (it was their brilliant idea, to be honest,) Mandy, Court, Rene and Elyse all at once. PHEW - what a social load off. The opera was very cool, but I was distracted by other things. After the opera Mandy, Elyse and Court headed back to my house. Where I realized my computer is broken. Maybe. I have to wait until Chas is back to really sort things out...damn that sucks. Jesse says it's a "sin virus" or basically karma for ripping and burning...but what does Jesse know? Stupid jew face. (Incidentally, it's a well known fact that Jesse only reads his friends' blogs to see if they have a shout out to him somewhere. I wonder if "Stupid jew face" will count as a shout out. Incidentally, that's a well known nickname of Jesse's - it's not like I'm making it up.) I finally kicked my guests out around 8:30 and then tried to do something about my shithole of an apartment. But not that much. Then I sat down to my read my new book (free! from a bar!) and passed out.

Weekends are going too fast. Actually, the older I get, the faster time is going period. It's August, people, August!

August!