There are so many topics that come to mind for this particular blog! It's a complete 180 from the last few weeks. Hallelujah! (and, yes, this heathen did use dictionary.com to look up the spelling of that word. Much to my surprise, I spelled it correctly).
Two weeks ago, the class had to give group projects. One group had the brilliant idea to hand out mini magic 8-balls as prizes for not falling asleep during their presentation (and I am not referring to 1/8 ounce of H, coke or tina). The idea was brilliant, because that is exactly what I was needing, since I have the acumen of a thumb tack. Now I can rely on the trusted magic 8-ball to make guide my life decisions. From my magic 8-ball I have divined that I will, in fact, pass the Bar exam on the first try; I will not be sued for malpractice; I will eventually find a job in San Francisco; I will once again be able to afford my own apartment, and I will eventually travel the entire world. The magic 8 ball was unclear as to whether I would eventually meet a rich paramour to fund my travels and eccentricities (or at least my shopping sprees at Anthropologie). I carry my magic 8 ball around with me, as though it has the same "essential" status as my keys, wallet and bus pass. What I failed to ask the magic 8 ball, and which could have saved me on some anxiety, was whether I have any cavities.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Thursday, March 1, 2007
I am an arms dealer, fitting you with weapons in the form of words
I told you this title was going to make multiple appearances, and so it has. My blogmanship skills have been subpar at best as of late. There were two events that would have been the subjects of blogs under ordinary circumstances, and those didn't even make it on to my new colorful blog. Is it laziness? lack of focus and motivation? submission to apathy? These are all possibilities. Or, maybe they all fall under general depressive behavior. Well, here is my meager attempt to restore my status as a true dedicated blogger.
A few weeks ago, San Francisco was hit with torrential rains. Sick of being indoors, I prompted Ms. Smith to go with me to Flax - a neverending art supply store on Market. Ms. Smith arrived decked out in full rain regalia with jeans tucked into rain boots, while I was (as usual) inappropriately dressed. I had closed toed shoes on, and I did have my umbrealla, but otherwise I was unprepared for the onslaught of water. While we were crossing Market to reach the stop for the F-Market car I commented that Market Street had turned into a river. We stood there perched on the minimally raised platform waiting for muni when WOOSH - a car drove through the river that became Market Street and splashed us. My response "oh my god!" We inched towards the other side of the platform when WOOSH - a car on that side drives by and splashes us followed by an even louder "OH MY GOD!!" Realizing that there was no place for us to go, we were left standing there while we got splashed again followed by an even more vehement "OHHH MYYY GODDD!" We stood there looking like helpless drowned rats, or at least I did. Susan's boots got wet, but who cares about wet boots? My pants were soaked through. At the first break in traffic I ran to the sidewalk, where I realized other passengers had been waiting. Two guys came out from an antique store and asked if we were ok, and we started laughing uncontrollably.
Last weekend, Susan and I made a Target run. While there we both became acutely aware that we were starving, so stopped by In and Out on the way back. I had never been before to actually eat something, so I pulled up to the awkward little dude who waits outside to take your orders. Because he came up to the car, I couldn't see the menu. I asked if they had anything vegetarian to which he quickly responded "we have a veggie burger." Let me repeat that. He responded, "we have a veggie burger." I delightfully responded, "great! I'll have that but with no onions or tomato." We get our good, and I look at my supposed veggie burger. There is a bun. There is lettuce in the bun. There is some thousand-island looking sauce on one side of the bun. I look harder only to find that there is no patty. To make sure I'm not delusional, I show it to Ms. Smith and she assures me that, in fact, there is no veggie patty. So, back to the drive-through line we go. I show the little minion my bun sans veggie patty. His response: "did you want, like, a veggie burger?" Flabbergasted, confused, and still starving, I responded with a resounding "yeah," which lacked the force with which I would now like to say it. It always happens that after an event, I think of all the ways I could have and should have responded. These include, but are not limited to, throwing the bun at him, yelling "yes! I want what you told me you had!" and demanding my money back. I could have at least asked him what sense he thought it made for someone to order a lettuce and bun, since I had said for them to hold the tomato and onion. Instead of one of the cool scenarios I have in my head where I come out the victor, he just told me that they don't actually have veggie burgers.
A few weeks ago, San Francisco was hit with torrential rains. Sick of being indoors, I prompted Ms. Smith to go with me to Flax - a neverending art supply store on Market. Ms. Smith arrived decked out in full rain regalia with jeans tucked into rain boots, while I was (as usual) inappropriately dressed. I had closed toed shoes on, and I did have my umbrealla, but otherwise I was unprepared for the onslaught of water. While we were crossing Market to reach the stop for the F-Market car I commented that Market Street had turned into a river. We stood there perched on the minimally raised platform waiting for muni when WOOSH - a car drove through the river that became Market Street and splashed us. My response "oh my god!" We inched towards the other side of the platform when WOOSH - a car on that side drives by and splashes us followed by an even louder "OH MY GOD!!" Realizing that there was no place for us to go, we were left standing there while we got splashed again followed by an even more vehement "OHHH MYYY GODDD!" We stood there looking like helpless drowned rats, or at least I did. Susan's boots got wet, but who cares about wet boots? My pants were soaked through. At the first break in traffic I ran to the sidewalk, where I realized other passengers had been waiting. Two guys came out from an antique store and asked if we were ok, and we started laughing uncontrollably.
Last weekend, Susan and I made a Target run. While there we both became acutely aware that we were starving, so stopped by In and Out on the way back. I had never been before to actually eat something, so I pulled up to the awkward little dude who waits outside to take your orders. Because he came up to the car, I couldn't see the menu. I asked if they had anything vegetarian to which he quickly responded "we have a veggie burger." Let me repeat that. He responded, "we have a veggie burger." I delightfully responded, "great! I'll have that but with no onions or tomato." We get our good, and I look at my supposed veggie burger. There is a bun. There is lettuce in the bun. There is some thousand-island looking sauce on one side of the bun. I look harder only to find that there is no patty. To make sure I'm not delusional, I show it to Ms. Smith and she assures me that, in fact, there is no veggie patty. So, back to the drive-through line we go. I show the little minion my bun sans veggie patty. His response: "did you want, like, a veggie burger?" Flabbergasted, confused, and still starving, I responded with a resounding "yeah," which lacked the force with which I would now like to say it. It always happens that after an event, I think of all the ways I could have and should have responded. These include, but are not limited to, throwing the bun at him, yelling "yes! I want what you told me you had!" and demanding my money back. I could have at least asked him what sense he thought it made for someone to order a lettuce and bun, since I had said for them to hold the tomato and onion. Instead of one of the cool scenarios I have in my head where I come out the victor, he just told me that they don't actually have veggie burgers.
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