3.15.2007
The class ended at 10 but when you’re the Redhead, the evening is just getting started at 10. Ok, I’m usually asleep at 9:30 but on this particular night I was determined to rage because I promised to go to the Chevelle show at the Catalyst. Although I had been worried about being too tired to be in the mood for live music, once I arrived at the club and heard the thumping of the music from outside, I was ready to party. I couldn’t believe how long it had been since I’d seen a band, randomly, in the middle of the week. Although I had an initial spate of partying after the bar exam, since fall it's really been all about getting up early for training runs/rides/whatever and having dinner out with friends. It's been a while since I actually put on the party shoes.
Once I got inside, things seemed a little... odd. That same club smell was there, beer and sweat and way too much weed. But it just seemed really... clear. I read any writing on the wall or near the stage. It was almost like I was somewhere else, just watching the show television. At first I thought it was because it was less smoky than usual. Then I thought maybe I had forgotten to take my glasses off. Nope, I wasn’t wearing glasses and still everything seemed different. I finally realized it was the first time I’d ever been to that venue and been Stone Cold Sober. Back in the day, stopping for a couple drinks before the show was mandatory! Why go out if you're not going to get hammered? But I found I enjoyed myself so much more without the buzz. There are advantages to getting older - like being content to stand near the back and not get bumped into by moshers or sprayed with beer by the band. And waking up the next morning feeling, if not quite "fresh" then at least not hungover.
Unfortunately I only got to hear a few songs because the class got out so late, but if you get a chance to see Chevelle live, check it out.
3.14.2007

(Photo credit: Shane Porter)
This does not look like fun. This photo makes me want to crawl in my warm, dry car and drive, not only to work, but drive to anywhere I need to go, even the grocery store that is 3 blocks away. Just looking at this photo makes me want to go pump my car full of gas just in case I get stuck in a rainstorm. Plenty of other useful information on that site, though.
Now that I can ride a bike without feeling like someone just took off the training wheels, I'm going to ride to work a couple times a week. I need the miles, I need the exercise and I sure as hell need Al Gore off my back. I'm sure this will result in all kinds of hilarity involving key pieces of clothing left behind and near misses with SUVs. Wish me luck.
3.09.2007
Book Review: You Suck
Moore has written about the supernatural and the merely strange. I suppose you could just call them "outlandish tales," and as a bonus some of them take place right in lovely San Francisco. One of his first novels, Bloodsucking Fiends, is about a super-hot redhead, Jody. I love stories about super-hot redheads and this one had attained vixen-like status of which I can only dream. In Fiends, Jody was turned into a vampire by an ancient evil vampire. Then her boy toy and his colleagues from the night crew at the Marina Safeway hunt down the evil vampire before he destroys the city, wackiness ensures. You Suck picks up right where Bloodsucking Fiends left off so it's helpful but not necessary to have read the previous book. In fact, in a way that could be frustrating or is maybe just very cunning marketing, the characters from his other books make occasional appearances, and at one point intersect with the plot of A Dirty Job, one of my favorite Moore novels.
While it's fun to see characters from other novels, I've always thought one of Moore's strengths was the waay he really made each wacky character jump off the page. When you already know most of the characters, there's less to enjoy. In fact, some of the best parts of the book involve new characters, including Blue, a Vegas hooker who is actually, painted blue. Another new character is Abby Normal, the teenaged goth girl who befriends the Jody and the boy toy. One of the best parts of the book is her diary entry about meeting another character from Fiends called Steve. He has just saved her from a crowd of vampires with his UV-accessorized "totally race-pimped yellow Honda."
And I'm like, "Who the fuck are you?"
And he's like, "My name's Steve. I'm working on my biochem masters at S.F. State."
"Stop," I said. "Please do not further endorken yourself to me. You have great hair and a car that is most fly, and you have just saved me with your mad ninja driving skills, so do not sully your heroic hottie image in my mind by further reciting your nerdy scholastic agenda. Don't tell me what you're studying, Steve, tell me what's in your soul. What haunts you?"
And he was like, "Dude, you need to cut back on the caffeine."
Doesn't that just make you want to read the rest of the book? Unfortunately that was one of the few highlights for me. If Moore's work sounds like something you might enjoy, try Bloodsucking Fiends or The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove. See? Even the titles make you want to read them.
Parental guidance suggested: Novel contains scenes of hot vampire sex, nudity, and some gory vampire killing.
3.08.2007
Be careful what you wish for...
So instead of going to the gym after work or enjoying the sunshine with an evening run, I'm lying on the couch feeling very, very sorry for myself. I live next to a church, which when I saw the place originally made me think it would be nice and quiet. I have come to realize that the church hosts a lot of events in the evening that involve lots of crowds, children running screaming around the parking lot and amplified sound. I can't tell you what they're saying because the voices are obscured and... I don't speak Spanish.
Here's a sampling of what I'm listening to:
Loud voice speaking commandingly.
Female voice, quieter, speaking in a somewhat pleading monotone.
Screeching noise, possibly an imitation of animals?
Long silence.
More of the monotone woman.
Sound of gong.
Extremely loud voice speaks commandingly again.
Long silence.
Crowd laughs.
What is going on over there?
In the spirit of continuing the running-themed posts this week, I bring you "Coping With Common Running Injuries", a very handy set of tips from Web MD's Weekend Athlete's Sports Injury Guide.
Some other favorite running sites:
MarathonGuide.com is a great resource, in particular the bulletin boards, which include boards devoted to women runners and reviews of specific races.
Active.com, where you can search (and register) for races by zip code, date or even sport. There are very few events that are not on Active.
Hal Higdon, whose training guides I've used for Silicon Valley and CIM.
Runner's World magazine. Although I subscribe to Runner's World, their website has a great archive of past articles divided by topic. It's amazing how much of their content is online.
Cool Running's Couch to 5k plan. If you don't run at all, except to the bathroom at halftime, then this is where to start.
At the other end of the extreme is Dean Karnazes' site, the "UltraMarathon Man" who ran 50 marathons in 50 days and described the experience on his blog. His final marathon was the NYC, and then he decided to run back to San Francisco. I had the impression of Karnazes as the Lance Armstrong of running, complete with Texas-size ego. Reading the blog as he completed the Endurance 50, I really came to admire Karnazes' humility. He was genuinely awed by the people he ran with and as their stories inspired him to keep running, they inspired me, too. I still think he's nuts, though.
3.07.2007
26.2, again.

What exactly have I gotten myself into here?
3.02.2007
We miss you, Sandy D.

3.01.2007
2.23.2007
2.22.2007
Quitters
Quitting smoking is a difficult thing, and anyone who's going to try deserves our support. Here's some sites that provide facts about smoking and tips on quitting from:
- The CDC.
- a coalition of government agencies called, collectively, Smokefree.
- The American Cancer Society, one of my favorite organizations and one I wish I could devote more time to.
Finally, the ACS also has a site, with information about how you, the friends and family of someone who has decided to quite smoking, can support them (hint: don't yell "Quitter!" at them every time you see them).
2.21.2007
The only thing I miss about smoking...
Now the internet is the best way to refresh (or "distract," depending on your perspective) my brain during the work day. How Stuff Works is a favorite site. The articles are all written by about a dozen people who are apparently staff at the site. My suspicious nature leads to believe there is some kind of "angle" here, something else at work... but I haven't found a consistent bias to any of the material.
I like the science questions:
What is spider's silk made of?
How spacesuits work.
How solar cells work.
Useful DIY tips:
Fixing a hole in drywall.
How to treat a cat that has been sprayed by a skunk. My experience with cats tells me that flushing out a cat's eye with water is not quite the simple task that this illustration would lead you to believe, but maybe I'm just being cynical.How to repair small appliances.
And then there's the stuff you really want to know:
Could I lose weight by getting my ear stapled?
How crack works.
What is foot and mouth disease?
How do aphrodisiacs work?
Why are booger sticky?
What are the best over-the-counter remedies for a hangover?
Enjoy.
2.20.2007
Update
Like crack, only legal and you don't get skinny.

So I decided to try and find some new pre-workout supplements to boost my energy because I've really been lagging lately in the mornings. I wanted something that was pure energy and did not claim to be some kind of appetite-suppressant. That whole TrimSpa, Hydroxycut thing is just pills for fat people who want to eat Cheetos and lose weight all through the miracle of a few little pills. And good luck with that. Meanwhile, back in reality, I was hoping to get something that was more of an athletic energy booster (I like to stay away from the phrase "performance enhancer" since that has kind of negative connotation... thanks, Barry). So I was looking for the kindof pills meatheads from the gym would take when they aren't shooting themselves with horse hormones. You can already tell this story is going to work out well, can't you? A couple of years ago, TB drank a can of Redline and called me from his apartment parking lot, where he'd been walking around, "trying to hold (his) shit together." Apparently it gives quite a jolt when taken on an empty stomach and TB, no stranger to the GNC, was having a violent case of the shakes. He alleged it also made him paranoid, but who can tell? So now they make this stuff in pill form, and since the FDA hasn't banned it yet, I had it in the back of my mind as a potential. But I'm a pretty risk-averse person, especially when it comes to unregulated supplements. But after about a week of feeling like my morning run was taking place in a large bowl of jello, I complained to JFJ, who as it turns out, it also on the Little Blue Bottle. Aha! I tried a few last week but forgot to take them consistently, so this morning's spin class was the first real test.
5:20am: Take 2 redline and eat half a banana (learned from TB's mistake and will not take on an empty stomach. Also warned by JFJ, who gripped my shoulders in a Obi-Wan to Luke manner and whispered, "Always... take with food.").
5:55am: arrive bleary-eyed at gym and stumble over to spin class. Glare at perky instructor.
6:13am: Starting to feel more energetic. Is it just being warmed up, or are the magic pills working?
6:22am: Really feeling it now. The instructor has us go aroudn the room and decide what to do for 30-second intervals. Most people go with something like sitting for thirty seconds or standing for thirty seconds. I come up with a complicated stand-for-two-seconds, hover-for-two-seconds routine, which I enthusiastically try to direct by shouting directions, at one point letting loose with, "GO! GO! GO!" The man on the bike next to me rests his head on the handlebars at the end of my interval.
6:46am: Instructor comments that I was particularly energetic this morning. Several of the other women in the class nod. I dismiss the cool-down, throw on my shoes and run upstairs to where the treadmills are.
6:55am: After about 8 minutes at a 3% incline, the energy is beginning to drag.
7:02am: No, it's not! BURN, BABY, BURN!
7:22am: Listen to soothing music for cool-down, tempted to try some bench presses but opt to hit the showers instead.
8:05am: Ready and at work in record time. For the first time, I notice there is a massive hole in the middle of my body and it's expanding. I must close the whole by putting food in it.
8:11am: Bowl of eggwhites and an english muffin later. Still hungry. Eat a banana.
8:27am: Still hungry. Eat a bowl of oatmeal.
8:34am: Is there no amount of food that will satisfy me? Eat a protein bar.
9:04am: A little shleepy. Have some coffee.
9:52am: Email JFJ with concerns about overwhelming hunger. He instructs plenty of fluids and protein. Drink more water.
From 10am until about 11:30 is just a haze of trying to find food and stay awake. I feel like a giant lumbering around in slow motion. The extra energy helps you burn calories, sure, but how about the fact that you are driven to consume your entire body weight for breakfast? That's not helping shed any pounds.
At some point irritability kicks in and the momentary satisfaction of lunch is broken by the obsessive need of everyone around me to get on my last nerve. For some reason, everyone wants to stare into my office today. People gap, open-mouthed, as they slowly cruise by,a s though I am some kind of strange zoo creature. At one point I contemplate throwing my own feces at them but the logistics are overwhelming given my lack of energy. The afternoon has been survived only through the help of sugar and prayers to the sweet baby Jesus to help me get through the day.
2.19.2007
2.16.2007
This is a photo of her showing the bandaid on her foot, although it looks like I have surprised her by opening the door to catch her in the middle of giving herself a good spanking. Now that would really have been embaressing.
2.15.2007
She's baaaaack!
She's eating as much Mexican food as she can while she's in California, so I took her to Olitas, one of the few places on the wharf where the food is as good as the view (Riva's being the other). She knew exactly what to go for - note the empty glass of sangria in the foreground. As you can see, Katie has not lost ANY of her enthusiasm for food! After dinner we went over to Red for a cocktail and then to the local adult store, Camouflage to stock up for Valentine's Day, her friend's bachelorette party and her upcoming booty call with the Aryan Science Experiment ("ASE"). The ASE was one of the dive instructors on our boat on the Great Barrier Reef. Katie took one look at him, licked her lips and called dibs. She's going to visit him in March to make sure his six-pack is still there.
It was a brief visit but Katie is one of those friends who you can not see for yonks and when you finally get together, it's like you hung out yesterday. She'll be back in August for her sister's wedding, so I'm hoping I can get her down here again, maybe have a beach-themed Ya Ya event in Santa Cruz. In the 15 hours she was here we ate a ton of food, had sangria and cocktails, and spent too much money on sex toys. I think it's safe to say she'll be back.
2.09.2007
Can we talk?
If you use any of the questions, let me know how it goes!
2.08.2007
No news is good news.
For more stories about the corporate media to delight and enrage, check out mediamatters.org.2.06.2007
The ball and chain on the other foot.
My generation is the first to really grow up with the equality that the 60s feminists (men and women) fought for. We reap the rewards of those pioneers, although my generation eschews the labels and symbols of that movement. Burn our bras? Heck, no, a sexy Victoria's Secret bra will set you back at least $40. It probably wouldn't matter to our mothers' generation, since that bra gets worn under a suit in the boardroom. We embrace femininity as a source of power, not something that compromises it.
But are we destined to be single? The generation of women raised to with the idea that they could be independent are also more education and earning more than ever before. The market is catching up, gearing traditionally male-oriented products like cars and home repair products to single, professional women. As women learn to do it all, what gets left behind is the role that was filled by the husband. I'm left feeling kind of sorry for the guys, whose traditional roles have become outdated. Their wives bounce a baby with one hand and balance a checkbook with the other while the husband is lampooned as the helpless airhead, the Homer Simpsons and Tim Taylors of the world. I'm frustrated by the final impression of the article - that men are increasingly seen as a source of good genes for procreation by the alpha female. As satisfying as it may seem to see the power pendulum begin to shift towards women, we have to keep in mind that the goal of feminism in the first place was equality. We'll have to remember that as men develop their own modern identities.
Women see less need for ol’ ball and chain
By C.W. Nevius, SF Chronicle
January 28, 2007
Are husbands becoming obsolete? You have to wonder. A recent New York Times study, based on 2005 census results, found that for the first time in American history there are more women living without husbands (51 percent) than with them. To which many men must reply: Uh-oh. After all, how many times did they tell us to put down the toilet seat and pick up our socks? Could it be that a hubby is -- like the big, smelly dog that keeps chewing up shoes -- turning out to be more trouble than he's worth?
"We are definitely looking to have a fulfilling relationship,'' says 35-year-old Gia Colosi, an Intel executive and president of the San Francisco Spinsters, a philanthropic and social club of about 175 college-educated single women. "But at the same time, if it didn't happen it wouldn't be the end of the world."
In case you haven't noticed, that's becoming a prevailing view. Stephanie Coontz, author of the award-winning "Marriage, A History,'' has said, "There is no going back to a world where ... marriage is the institution that organizes people's lives." Take the case of San Francisco hair and makeup artist Teresa Callen. A single mother, she says she left a lousy marriage 12 years ago and admits she ran smack into all the expectations of a traditional role. "I was scared, really scared,'' says Callen, now 44. "I thought I couldn't do it alone. I got engaged to someone else right away, but I couldn't go through with it." Instead, Callen looked around and realized that she had lots of options. She went back to school, got a degree and carved out a life. Coontz says the new trends for women -- college education, financial independence and less pressure from society -- have changed the rules. One of the most important changes, she says, is knowing that you don't have to depend on your husband for a living and "if it doesn't work out, you could leave."
But that's just the tip of the husband-free trend. According to a New York Times analysis of census data, not only are women marrying later, they also are less likely to remarry right away if widowed or divorced. So why aren't there an equal number of men living without wives? Only 46.6 percent of men do. The reasons: Men don't live as long as women, and widowed women are more likely not to remarry and live happily alone. So it was no coincidence when a 2006 study by the National Association of Realtors found that 22 percent of home-buyers were single women. Not only is that an all-time high -- single men were at 9 percent, by the way -- unmarried women also purchase 40 percent of condominiums.
"It's a different generation,'' says San Mateo's Lorri Lee Lown, the founder of Velo Girls, a women's cycling club. "My mother couldn't have bought a house by herself. But I can.'' Erika Lodge, a 25-year-old investment banker and member of the Spinsters, says: "The financial freedom is the biggest component in this. Everyone has definitely noticed that things are changing with women in general.'' And what do the single men think of this? Well, as politically correct males in the 21st century, they know what they are expected to say.
"I think if you talked to most guys in my age group,'' says John Gartland, 34, who is president of the San Francisco Bachelors, "they would say they want a dynamic, independent, successful woman.'' But Gartland's friend and fellow member of the Bachelors, Eric Noland, is honest enough to admit that dating an extremely successful woman might take some adjusting. "It wouldn't be threatening,'' says Noland, a financial planner for Williams-Sonoma, "but if I met someone who was high-powered, there might be some feelings of inadequacy. I think that's a very male reaction.''
There's the rub. Women have clearly changed, but some of them say men aren't keeping up. Lown may be the model for the new single woman. Forty-one and never married, she worked in the corporate world until she took up biking after a long layoff. She loved the exercise and experience, but not dealing with the men's cycling clubs. "Men compete with each other,'' says Lown, who has a master's degree in gender relations. "And they also compete with the women. Women don't want someone to be rude and give them smack talk going up a hill. They want encouragement.'' That wasn't likely to come from the men, so Lown started Velo Girls, for serious female cyclists, in 2002. The club now has more than 1,300 members and last year organized 299 rides, only a few of which included men. "I had no idea it would take off like this,'' Lown says. "It was a huge surprise.'' The interesting part is the demographic. Lown says about 60 percent of club members are between the ages of 30 and 55, "rather affluent, college-educated, and with lots of free time available.''
That's because, in many cases, they aren't married. Nor are they clamoring to invite some men along. "This is definitely not a place to meet singles,'' Lown says. "A lot of women say, 'This is my ride, not my boyfriend's or my husband's.' " Not that they haven't tried it. Lown runs a few "singles'' rides each year, and the last one was the whole new male-female disconnect in a nutshell. "I don't know how many times I had to tell the guys to chill out,'' says Lown, a competitive cyclist who has no problem keeping up with the men. "I finally had to tell them, 'Look, if you are trying to meet women, ride with them. Don't show off. Don't go crazy. That's not impressing anyone.' '' OK then, men say, what are we supposed to be doing? "That's the million-dollar question,'' says Noland, 33. "It's becoming more of a challenge. As guys, we are going to have to come up with some other measures of success for our relationships."
Are guys getting the message? Oh, who cares, women say. They are moving on regardless. Consider Sheila Moon, a San Francisco fashion designer, who is a single woman in her 40s. Moon worked in the fashion industry for years, doing contemporary sportswear, suity-stuff." But four years ago, she saw this trend of "encouraging women to enter activities that are usually more male-dominated," and decided to design a line of women-only cycling clothes. Today, Moon's designs can be found in stores in 23 states, from Florida to Oregon. The average person might be surprised to hear that women make up a higher dollar value of the bike retail market than men. Lown jokes that the reason is that a "man will buy a bike, a pair of shorts and a shirt. A woman will buy a bike and 10 outfits.''
Now, just to make it clear, there wasn't a person we talked to who wasn't interested in a solid, long-term relationship. "Deep down, people want some sort of a partner,'' says Gartland. "Most people still get married.'' "And women do have the biological clock,'' says Colosi. "I think a lot of us still hear about our parents wanting grandchildren.'' That, Gartland hopes, is a guy's ace in the hole. "We will really know we are obsolete if the birthrate keeps dropping," he says. "We still have that one useful reason to be married."
Relationship Advice: Valentine's Day Edition
Ladies: He wants oral sex. Don't worry about the right size shirt, a funny card, scented candles. Oral. Sex.
Disclaimer: Neither of these will help you get your campaign manager back if you slept with his wife, no matter how many times you tell him you were both really, really drunk.
Update on dangerous driving
"Eh?"
"He totally thought you were coming in there to yell at him."
"Well, maybe, but why was he clutching the card rack, looking like an 8-year-old who's just been told they're going to Azkaban?"
"Are you serious? Guys are terrified of getting yelled at by a woman in public."
"What are you talking about?"
"That's the worst thing! If it was two guys, they'll stand there in the parking lot and yell at each other all day. But a woman you don't know, just coming up to you and letting you have it? Ooohhh..." his voice just kind of fades out, and he shakes his head and shudders.
This really threw me. I was scared of the bald, angry driver. Unfortunately, women are used to seeing every unknown man as a potential predator. And, you know, he's bigger. The idea that he was freaked was, frankly, wildly amusing.
2.02.2007
Can I bring my whiney?
As I waited for oncoming traffic to clear and the Mitsubishi to make a left into the driveway, a bright blue truck sped around my car and the one in front of me, tires squealing as he cut around the cars, clearing my bumper by about six inches and coming to a screeching stop at the light. It was such aggressive driving, that it must have been an attempt to communicate a message, although I couldn’t figure out quite what that message was. Maybe he disapproved of the Mitsubishi’s left turn, or he was just in a huge hurry.
The cars coming the other direction cleared and the Mitsubishi went left into the driveway. I pulled forward, ending up right behind the blue truck as the light turned green. At the next light, he came to another sudden stop in the lane going straight and then suddenly pulled to the right to get onto the street that goes towards the highway. It turned out we were following roughly the same route to the freeway, although his route involved weaving dangerously in and out of traffic, stopping in one lane and then suddenly accelerating into the other. Although I was hanging back, wanting to avoid any of the mayhem, we still kept about the same pace and I ended up on the freeway only a few cars behind the blue truck. Apparently extremely aggressive driving doesn’t actually make traffic go any faster.When I took the exit from the freeway at work and pulled in the left turn lane to stop for coffee I found myself behind the blue truck again. This time I could see the driver better. It was a guy (surprise) with a shaved head, it looked like he was wearing a sweatshirt. He didn’t appear to be talking on the phone or doing anything that gave an indication about why he was apparently filled with rage. I couldn’t figure out where he was going. The only business open in the area was the coffee shop where I was headed for my morning java. Apart from that, there is a Hilton (maybe he was going to bust his wife in a hotel room with Gavin Newsom?) and residential areas. The truck was kind of construction-y so I thought maybe he was late to get to a job site. Or maybe he’s a plumber and was going to fix a burst pipe.
When he pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop, I got a little concerned. For the first time, I wondered if there was going to be a problem. What if he had noticed my car behind him and thought I was following him? I sat in my car for a moment, and watched him go into the coffee shop. As he went in, he glanced back right at my car. “Great,” I thought, “He probably thinks I’m going to come in there and lecture him about his driving and he’s ready to go apeshit on me.” Although I had thought of a few sarcastic comments for the crazy driver as I watched him almost cause about a half dozen accidents, I know better than to confront angry drivers… having been one myself. But nothing gets between me and caffeine so I got out, too, and walked over. I noticed he was standing near the door, looking through the cards. As I got closer to the door, he looked up and over at me. I was surprised to see that he actually had a quite pleasant face. The kind of person you’d pass on the street and say “good morning” to. As I pulled the door open, he froze with his hand on the cards. At this point I realized he had recognized my car and he thought I was following him. He didn’t look like the near occasion of apeshit. In fact, he looked kind of wary.I picked a good day to be girly. Maybe I would have looked more like the kind of person who would yell at a stranger if I’d been wearing a pantsuit with my hair pulled back and glasses. But this is Friday and I was feeling pretty girly this morning, so I wore a short skirt, black platform sandals, did my hair and makeup and topped it all off with a short pink trenchcoat. I think it’s safe to say that he was a little surprised. So I did what I always do when I think that the shit’s about to hit the fan. I opened the door, make eye contact, gave him my biggest smile and said, “Hi!” Hand still planted on the card rack, he smiled, too and said, “Hi…” He appeared to actually be bracing himself on the rack of cards. I breezed past and got my coffee. At one point I realized he had ordered coffee too and was behind me at the coffee “stuff” table. I left without saying anything else and waited in my car for him to leave the parking lot. Maybe it was my imagination, but I would swear he was driving a little slower.
2.01.2007
silver lining
Or would you prefer "Gavined"? The trouble with that is that I like to refer to overly-gelled hair as "Gaviny" so I don't want the two to get confused. Let me know.
AIGH! AIGH! AIGH!

I'm so distraught! Why is this so disturbing? Here's why:
1. He not only had an affair with a married woman, he had an affair with a close friend's wife. It's skeevy enough to sleep with a married woman, but you're buddy's wife? C'mon. That's so much worse.
2. Male politician with great politics and charisma, betrayed by his philandering? Sound familiar, Mr. Clinton? Now the right will get to use his stupidity to undermine all the good work he’s done. When you are a politician, you’ve chosen to live a life where your causes are affected by your private and moral choices. If you’re going to undermine the sanctity of marriage by sleeping with someone’s wife, maybe you aren’t the best person to try to promote equality in marriage rights. Ugh. I can just see the religious right tut-tutting all though the Bible Belt.
3. And this is the thing about male politicians. When women get drunk with power, they just turn into mega-bitches. But men have to make it about sex. Why, why why?
4. My fall-back plan, that I would meet, marry and wean Gavin off excessive hair gel, is clearly in the toilet. I may have to resort to real relationships.
1.31.2007
1.29.2007
Laugh out loud.
The headliner was, of course, the winner of the competition, Jay Wendell Walker. His style was definitely "old school" in style but modern in content. Jokes about cell phones, jokes about eBay. He was able to spin stuff off the top of his head, playing with jokes from the previous two acts, interacting with people in the audience (this was in Mill Valley, so they really needed a laugh). In person, I have a new appreciation for how tough it must be to perform live comedy. At least if you're acting you don't really know how it's going over because people are supposed to be quiet. okay, they could get up and leave, but chances are, they aren't going to stand up and shout, "You suck!"
1.26.2007
Best Books of 2006

Isn't that fun?
The text of the article is below. I'm not going to make any pronouncements about how I plan on reading every book on the list. Even if the Times thinks it's the best thing since sliced bread, that's not going to make me want to... hmm... actually these all do look pretty interesting. None of that Southern-childhood-incest drama like Oprah's book club selections always seem to be. I've heard some good buzz on Amy Hempel so that might be good to check out.
ABSURDISTAN
By Gary Shteyngart. Random House, $24.95.
Shteyngart's scruffy, exuberant second novel, equal parts Gogol and Borat, is immodest on every level - it's long, crude, manic and has cheap vodka on its breath. It also happens to be smart, funny and, in the end, extraordinarily rich and moving. "Absurdistan" introduces Misha Vainberg, the rap-music-obsessed, grossly overweight son of the 1,238th richest man in Russia. After attending college in the United States, he is now stuck in St. Petersburg, scrambling for an American visa that may never arrive. Caught between worlds, and mired in his own prejudices and thwarted desires, Vainberg just may be an antihero for our times.
THE COLLECTED STORIES OF AMY HEMPEL
Scribner, $27.50.
A quietly powerful presence in American fiction during the past two decades, Hempel has demonstrated unusual discipline in assembling her urbane, pointillistic and wickedly funny short stories. Since the publication of her first collection, "Reasons to Live," in 1985, only three more slim volumes have appeared - a total of some 15,000 sentences, and nearly every one of them has a crisp, distinctive bite. These collected stories show the true scale of Hempel's achievement. Her compact fictions, populated by smart, neurotic, somewhat damaged narrators, speak grandly to the longings and insecurities in all of us, and in a voice that is bracingly direct and sneakily profound.
THE EMPEROR'S CHILDREN
By Claire Messud. Alfred A. Knopf, $25.
This superbly intelligent, keenly observed comedy of manners, set amid the glitter of cultural Manhattan in 2001, also looks unsparingly, though sympathetically, at a privileged class unwittingly poised, in its insularity, for the catastrophe of 9/11. Messud gracefully intertwines the stories of three friends, attractive, entitled 30-ish Brown graduates "torn between Big Ideas and a party" but falling behind in the contest for public rewards and losing the struggle for personal contentment. The vibrant supporting cast includes a deliciously drawn literary seducer ("without question, a great man") and two ambitious interlopers, teeming with malign energy, whose arrival on the scene propels the action forward.
THE LAY OF THE LAND
By Richard Ford. Alfred A. Knopf, $26.95.
The third installment, following "The Sportswriter" (1986) and "Independence Day" (1995), in the serial epic of Frank Bascombe - flawed husband, fuddled dad, writer turned real estate agent and voluble first-person narrator. Once again the action revolves around a holiday. This time it's Thanksgiving 2000: the Florida recount grinds toward its predictable outcome, and Bascombe, now 55, battles prostate cancer and copes with a strange turn in his second marriage. The story, which unfolds over three days, is filled with incidents, some of them violent, but as ever the drama is rooted in the interior world of its authentically life-size hero, as he logs long hours on the highways and back roads of New Jersey, taking expansive stock of middle-age defeats and registering the erosions of a brilliantly evoked landscape of suburbs, strip malls and ocean towns.
SPECIAL TOPICS IN CALAMITY PHYSICS
By Marisha Pessl. Viking, $25.95.
The antic ghost of Nabokov hovers over this buoyantly literate first novel, a murder mystery narrated by a teenager enamored of her own precocity but also in thrall to her father, an enigmatic itinerant professor, and to the charismatic female teacher whose death is announced on the first page. Each of the 36 chapters is titled for a classic (by authors ranging from Shakespeare to Carlo Emilio Gadda), and the plot snakes ingeniously toward a revelation capped by a clever "final exam." All this is beguiling, but the most solid pleasures of this book originate in the freshness of Pessl's voice and in the purity of her storytelling gift.
NONFICTION
FALLING THROUGH THE EARTH
A Memoir.
By Danielle Trussoni. Henry Holt & Company, $23.
This intense, at times searing memoir revisits the author's rough-and-tumble Wisconsin girlhood, spent on the wrong side of the tracks in the company of her father, a Vietnam vet who began his tour as "a cocksure country boy" but returned "wild and haunted," unfit for family life and driven to extremes of philandering, alcoholism and violence. Trussoni mixes these memories with spellbinding versions of the war stories her father reluctantly dredged up and with reflections on her own journey to Vietnam, undertaken in an attempt to recapture, and come to terms with, her father's experiences as a "tunnel rat" who volunteered for the harrowing duty of scouring underground labyrinths in search of an elusive and deadly enemy.
THE LOOMING TOWER
Al-Qaeda and the Road to 9/11.
By Lawrence Wright. Alfred A. Knopf, $27.95.
In the fullest account yet of the events that led to the fateful day, Wright unmasks the secret world of Osama bin Laden and his collaborators and also chronicles the efforts of a handful of American intelligence officers alert to the approaching danger but frustrated, time and again, in their efforts to stop it. Wright, a staff writer for The New Yorker, builds his heart-stopping narrative through the patient and meticulous accumulation of details and through vivid portraits of Al Qaeda's leaders. Most memorably, he tells the story of John O'Neill, the tormented F.B.I. agent who worked frantically to prevent the impending terrorist attack, only to die in the World Trade Center.
MAYFLOWER
A Story of Courage, Community, and War.
By Nathaniel Philbrick. Viking, $29.95.
This absorbing history of the Plymouth Colony is a model of revisionism. Philbrick impressively recreates the pilgrims' dismal 1620 voyage, bringing to life passengers and crew, and then relates the events of the settlement and its first contacts with the native inhabitants of Massachusetts. Most striking are the parallels he subtly draws with the present, particularly in his account of how Plymouth's leaders, including Miles Standish, rejected diplomatic overtures toward the Indians, successful though they'd been, and instead pursued a "dehumanizing" policy of violent aggression that led to the needless bloodshed of King Philip's War.
THE OMNIVORE'S DILEMMA
A Natural History of Four Meals.
By Michael Pollan. The Penguin Press, $26.95.
"When you can eat just about anything nature has to offer, deciding what you should eat will inevitably stir anxiety," Pollan writes in this supple and probing book. He gracefully navigates within these anxieties as he traces the origins of four meals - from a fast-food dinner to a "hunter-gatherer" feast - and makes us see, with remarkable clarity, exactly how what we eat affects both our bodies and the planet. Pollan is the perfect tour guide: his prose is incisive and alive, and pointed without being tendentious. In an uncommonly good year for American food writing, this is a book that stands out.
THE PLACES IN BETWEEN
By Rory Stewart. Harvest/Harcourt, Paper, $14.
"You are the first tourist in Afghanistan," Stewart, a young Scotsman, was warned by an Afghan official before commencing the journey recounted in this splendid book. "It is mid-winter - there are three meters of snow on the high passes, there are wolves, and this is a war. You will die, I can guarantee." Stewart, thankfully, did not die, and his report on his adventures - walking across Afghanistan in January of 2002, shortly after the fall of the Taliban - belongs with the masterpieces of the travel genre. Stewart may be foolhardy, but on the page he is a terrific companion: smart, compassionate and human. His book cracks open a fascinating, blasted world miles away from the newspaper headlines.
This last book is the only one I actually have. I'm listening to The Places In Between right now on CD and expect to make a lot of headway on it this weekend because I'm driving up to see CMW and Mr. CMW in Sac-town. Let me know if you'd like to give it a listen. Then, just as soon as I get back, I'm picking up the new Christopher Moore, You Suck. Looking forward to the latest from Mr Moore, hopefully silly, and yummy with lots of great dialogue and sex. His books area such a light read that you're always surprised to get to the end and realize you genuinely care about the characters.If you have any book recommendations, write me a quick review and I'll post it. We're always looking for a good read.
1.23.2007
SOTU drinking game
1.18.2007
Mind Games
“I went to see that movie… you know, the one with that actress I really like. You know, what’s her name?”
“Helen Mirren.”
“No!”
“Judy Dench.”
“Yes, that’s her. She has that new movie with, um…”
“Cate Blanchett.”
“Right, so we saw that movie, and I can’t say I cared much for it. It was very dark and a bit nasty.”
“Mmmmm…”
“Then we went over for that hike I really like… you know the one…”
“Sobranes?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s far too cold to go to Sobranes. The other one.”
”The other one?”
”Yes, you know the one I mean… err….”
“Point Lobos.”
“Right, Point Lobos. Obviously. Why do you think I would go to Sobranes?” glares over rim of glass. There’s really no reply to this, so I just keep pulling out plates and washing things.
“Anyway you’ll never guess who we saw at Point Lobos.”
“You’re right, I probably won’t.”
“The old art teacher! From the high school! The one who left!”
Ooooh, this one is tricky. She’s mentioned this person before during one of these monologues, but I’m not sure I’ll get the name. She stares at me expectantly.
“Hmmm… Ann?” An eyebrow goes up. Wrong answer. Suddenly it comes to me.
“Laurie!”
“Yes, so we saw Laurie…"
Inserting the missing words into my mother’s conversations has become second habit for me. I find I half listen to everyone’s conversations and end up inserting words that I think they’ve forgotten. I find myself doing it constantly at work, and even to strangers. It's a matter of time before I insert the wrong word into the wrong person's conversation and get myself in serious trouble.
Tidbit
1.15.2007
"This is not just."
Below is an excertp from a speech Dr. King gave at a church New York City on April 4th, 1967, in which he explained his opposition to the Vietnam War. Not surprisingly, it is a popular speech this year, what with so little about war changing between 1967 and 2007, between Vietnam and Iraq. I heard to part of it when I woke up this morning, huddled in my bed, listening to the patient voice of a man killed eight years before I was born as he pleads for peace at home and abroad.
In 1957, a sensitive American official overseas said that it seemed to him that our nation was on the wrong side of a world revolution. During the past ten years, we have seen emerge a pattern of suppression which has now justified the presence of U.S. military advisors in Venezuela. This need to maintain social stability for our investments accounts for the counterrevolutionary action of American forces in Guatemala. It tells why American helicopters are being used against guerrillas in Cambodia and why American napalm and Green Beret forces have already been active against rebels in Peru.
It is with such activity in mind that the words of the late John F. Kennedy come back to haunt us. Five years ago he said, "Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable." Increasingly, by choice or by accident, this is the role our nation has taken, the role of those who make peaceful revolution impossible by refusing to give up the privileges and the pleasures that come from the immense profits of overseas investments. I am convinced that if we are to get on the right side of the world revolution, we as a nation must undergo a radical revolution of values. We must rapidly begin...we must rapidly begin the shift from a thing-oriented society to a person-oriented society. When machines and computers, profit motives and property rights, are considered more important than people, the giant triplets of racism, extreme materialism, and militarism are incapable of being conquered.
A true revolution of values will soon cause us to question the fairness and justice of many of our past and present policies. On the one hand, we are called to play the Good Samaritan on life's roadside, but that will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho Road must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life's highway. True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar. It comes to see that an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring.
A true revolution of values will soon look uneasily on the glaring contrast of poverty and wealth. With righteous indignation, it will look across the seas and see individual capitalists of the West investing huge sums of money in Asia, Africa, and South America, only to take the profits out with no concern for the social betterment of the countries, and say, "This is not just." It will look at our alliance with the landed gentry of South America and say, "This is not just." The Western arrogance of feeling that it has everything to teach others and nothing to learn from them is not just.
A true revolution of values will lay hand on the world order and say of war, "This way of settling differences is not just." This business of burning human beings with napalm, of filling our nation's homes with orphans and widows, of injecting poisonous drugs of hate into the veins of peoples normally humane, of sending men home from dark and bloody battlefields physically handicapped and psychologically deranged, cannot be reconciled with wisdom, justice, and love. A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.
America, the richest and most powerful nation in the world, can well lead the way in this revolution of values. There is nothing except a tragic death wish to prevent us from reordering our priorities so that the pursuit of peace will take precedence over the pursuit of war. There is nothing to keep us from molding a recalcitrant status quo with bruised hands until we have fashioned it into a brotherhood.
Molly's here!
1.10.2007
Mrs. MLE's Celebrity iTunes Playlist

DISCLAIMER: It was a very difficult exercise to narrow my playlist down. I resorted to listing to the ipod on shuffle and picking out songs that I really really like, don’t get sick of or automatically start dancing around to. I just had to stop myself at some point meaning the list is probably missing a lot and too long at the same time :)
Kiss Off
Violent Femmes
Violent Femmes
Basically any song off of this album gets my head bopping and feet bouncing. Just think of someone of someone who dumped you or really pissed you off and you are compelled to rock out. I almost chose “Add It Up” because it has the fantastic line of “I look at your pants…and I…I need a kiss.”
Do You Wanna Hold Me?
Bow Wow Wow
This song always puts a serene smile on my face and causes me to jump around. Now it makes me think of the beach and marrying Mr. MLE. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of it.
Blasphemous Rumors
DP
Catching Up With DP
Did I mention I am an 80s girl? And was a chronically depressed teenager? I reminisce of those days, dressing in all black, writing dark things in my journal, not comprehending how the hell Reagan was re-elected (scary thing is now that doesn’t seem so bad!), getting disgusted with anybody who didn’t “get it” and buying Smiths’ tapes at Tower Records. It was between this and Somebody off of Depeche Mode 101, but Somebody was just a touch too positive. I really thought I was deep at 15 and that these lyrics profound.
September
Earth Wind & Fire
Earth, Wind and Fire: Greatest Hits
Maybe it was the sparkly, flowing outfits or the giant afros. Perhaps the tight horn section or, most likely, the scores of happy, singing and dancing people on stage when I got to see them on TV (B&W of course). Whatever it was, I loooooooooooved this group when I was little and I still love this song and many others. Makes me think of a happy, racially diverse environment a la Sesame Street (ie before reality finally crept in when I was about 9 and some girl called me a “prejudiced white bitch” for no particular reason). Did I mention I grew up in the bubble of Berkeley?
Lo Que Pidas
Julieta Venegas
Sí
I can’t have a list without any Rock en Español.
Julieta Venegas totally rocks! She’s the strong Latina
woman that is encompassed is so many Mexican and South
American novels. Not the siliconated bubble heads you
see prancing around wedgy pants and white boots on
Univision. She just simply rocks like sox in a box.
Ain’t That a Kick in the Head
Dean Martin
Capitol Collector’s Series: Dean Martin
I love me some drunken Rat Pack singing! This is one
of the best with Dino and a punctuating horn section.
You can practically taste the scotch swirling around
in his glass.
Ain’t Nobody
Chaka Khan
Epiphany – The Best of Chaka Khan
Excellent dancing-while-driving music. Good for
self-esteem, too. It’s got that 80s electro-poppy funk
R&B thing going on.
What I Am
Edie Brickel
Shooting Rubber Bands at the Stars
Kind of an anthem for me I guess. I listened to this
a lot following a big Tori Amos/Chris Isaak/10,000
Maniacs phase and right around when I stopped taking
myself so damn seriously. Some lines still make no
sense to me, but that’s part of its charm, I suppose.
Plus, it’s got a good beat and I can dance to it.
Sex and Candy
Marcy Playground
Maybe I just like songs that have lines that make no sense (“like disco lemonade”). I dig this guy’s voice. Groovin’ tune.
Sir Duke
Stevie Wonder
Songs in the Key of Life
Awesome horn section, groovin’ bassline, and a good message. I think I’ve actually scat out loud to this song. My poor children will likely be subjected to it over and over as my form of education!
For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her
Simon & Garfunkel
Simon & Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits
Um, it’s pretty. And romantic and stuff. No other reason, really ;)
1.08.2007
The Noggin Song
Check out the lyrics:
Starts in my belly
then up to my heart
Into my mouth
I can't keep it shut
Do you recognize
the smell?
Is that you how tell
us apart?
I fool myself
to sleep and dream
Nobody's here
No-one but me
So cold
You're hardly there
Why can't this
be killing you?
Frankenstein
would want your mind
Your lovely head
Your lovely head
It sounds overwrought, but when you hear it you can appreciate how marvelous it really is. It’s the phrase, “your lovely head” that really does it for me. Who thought that? It’s not just the mind that is the focus here, but overall cranial appreciation, including skull shape and hair distribution. There should be a new category of music called Silmo. It’s music that’s kind of emo but appealing in a silly way.
1.07.2007
Sydney Fireworks
This is from somewhere in the middle:
This is the very last part of the finale of the fireworks on the bridge:
Ok, I'm not that sorry.
In case you can't get a good enough look at her molars, I've provided a close-up below:

Stay tuned, I'm sure there'll be plenty more!
I'm sorry, Katie...
1.06.2007
There's no place like home.
Right now it's time to head up to SF for Hoov's birthday dinner at Betelnut. Hoov's Friday was even worse than mine, and it was her birthday. Suck-diddly-uks. Can't wait to see the other Ya Ya's who weren't in Australia and will therefore be subjected to endless re-tellings of the same stories and explanations for why they are so damn funny.
1.04.2007
Trapped in Honolulu
Long story: I'm well-known for my penchant for getting to the airport long before it's necessary. It's not unusual that I arrive before they actually start checking people in for the flight. Back when Southwest issued numbered cards I had the first one more times than I can count, and was always one of the first ten. It just don't like feeling rushed, or stressed out that I might miss the flight. When I travel with my boss or my mother, typically the last people on the plane (not the same plane, you understand) I end up in a state of near-hyperventilation.
On my way to Sydney from Honolulu, I arrived so early that I spent several hours wandered the airport at night, after most of the shops and restaurants were closed. However, when I left Sydney for Honolulu, it took a total of 20 minutes to check my bags in and get to the gate, thanks to the combined efficiency of the Sydney airport and (gasp) Air Canada. I was determined not to spend the entire afternoon wandering around another airport.
Unfortunately, since I was in Honolulu for only one day, and didn't turn on the tv or pick up the newspaper, I apparently missed the fact that the airport was in total chaos. The only thing I've seen close to this kind of airport mayhem when I was in Heathrow two days before the Hajj. I did call the airline that morning to ask about baggage restrictions and no mention was made about how far in advance I should arrive. Apparently the chaos arose from the fact that people have to wait in FOUR separate lines. So, the lines. First, you start out in the agriculture check line, where they look through your bags to make sure you don't have plants or animals that shouldn't leave Hawaii. This line is about an hour long because a) it is run by the federal government, and we all know how efficient that is; and b) for some reason many people leaving Hawaii seem to think that it's a good idea to bring a lot of food with them. I'm talking about boxes of fruit, ice chests with fresh fish, pretty much whatever you can imagine. Now, I'm a fan of the fresh food here, but I wouldn't take a bunch of fish, slap it in an ice chest with some ice and wrap it up with duct tape. I saw this done several times, with some very difficult situations involving how to dispose of the several pounds of fish that were not going to be allowed to leave the state.
The second line is to check into your flight. That line looked long but I wouldn't really know because I got about halfway through the agriculture line and realized I was going to miss my flight. The third line is where you take your bags after you've checked in, because you can't hand them across the counter like you can in every other g*dd*mn airport in the developed world, you have to take them over to a separate baggage area. Where there is another line. Then, after all this, you get in the line to go through the security check of you and the belongings you would propose to take on the plane. With more confiscation of fresh fruits and other plants and animal life.
So I get in the "special services" line to change my flight and when there are only two people in front of me, the woman working at the counter leaves. And no one else comes over. Some enterprising soul found out that she was on her mandatory lunch hour and no one else was authorized to work that line. The line is snaking through the airport because at this point many people have missed their planes. We begged for some kind of supervisor or manager to come out and tell us how to arrange to get on another flight, but every person in a position or authority refused to come out and deal with the customers. You know, the ones who pay their salary. The people in lien were unhappy, but optimistic that they would be able to get on a place that day. When the line shut down, and no one else could help us, things started to fall apart.
The girl in front of me sat down on the ground and began to sob. "I have nowhere to go." she kept saying. The guy behind me was supposed to be in Seattle at 8am the next morning to sign a contract to join a minor-league sports team. I didn't ask which team, or even which sport. No one was really in the mood to chit chat. A guy behind us in line had a total meltdown and started running after anyone in a Hawaiian Airlines shirt, screaming profanity at them. Another woman who missed the flight to San Jose had called the airline on the phone, since no one was at the counter any more. She eventually found out, as I did, that despite the fact that we arrived at the airport in what should have been plenty of time, we would not be "bumped" to the next flight, but would have to pay to change out flights to the next one. I ended up having to book a first class one-way upgrade to leave on Friday. If I had waited for the next available seat in economy, I would have been here until Thursday. Another family from the San Jose flight, a couple and their two young children, were going to have to wait for that flight. His wife told me they had already called the hotel where they had stayed but it was sold out. "I don't know where we're going to stay." she said. "I'm more worried about what I'm going to tell my boss." her husband replied.
Oh, that's right. I have a job. I had been so determined to find a flight I forgot I still had to call my boss and tell him I'd be out another two days, on top of the three weeks I'd already been gone. I recalled giving advice in similar situations before, usually it involved sending a very unsympathetic letter telling the employee to be back at work on X date or they would lose their job. Karma's a real bitch. When I did call him, I think he could hear the tension in my voice because he was actually pretty cool about it. I got him a "thanks for not making this worse" gift this morning.
I wish I could say I was using this time to hang out with J, but he's still on the mainland, so it's more of me wandering around Waikiki alone. I did get my marine geek on at the Aquarium this morning.
There are worse places to be trapped. And there are worse things that can happen to a person than this kind of airport drama. I could be in Sierra Leone. Or Ithaca. But it's been a long trip, and after three weeks, I really just want to go home.


