Only in San Francisco

I heard on the news this morning there is a new campaign afoot in San Francisco. Apparently someone wants to change job applications. They want the section that asks if you have been convicted of a felony removed from the application. Apparently this person believes they are being discriminated against and not being hired because they have a felony on their record.

There was also another news story of someone who feels that his arrest was illegal. He was on parole and in a routine search of his place, found drugs or something to that effect. This guy believes it is a violation of his 4th amendment rights to have the police search his home w/o any "just cause" and simply because he is on parole.

Am I the only one that believes only in SF does this garbage surface? Forgive me, but I was under the impression that once you commit a crime, let alone a felony, you have voluntarily chosen to give up your rights.

If I am an employer, I have a right to know that you have been convicted of a felony. I still have the option of hiring you depending on what your crime is and how it may/may not impact the job. People have a right to know that they are working in a relatively safe environment and not with convicted felons. Or if a convicted felon has been hired, they have a right to know that information as well. Sorry, but you screwed up and have to suffer the consequences.

Yes, our system is not foolproof. Yes, there are some felonies that in most people's eyes aren't that big a thing. However, people still have a right to know and then you can explain the situation.

In the same vein, when you have been convicted of a crime and are paroled, you know what the conditions of your parole are. You know that a routine search can occur. How is it then a violation of your rights to conduct such a search? Just because you're stupid enough to get caught....again...doesn't mean your rights were violated.

Or maybe I'm completely wrong and there is an element of sanity in it. If there is, someone please explain it to me because I obviously don't get it.

This rant was brought to you by the letter P and the number 7.

Georgia on My Mind

Flying out at the butt-crack of dawn tomorrow morning on my way to Savannah, Georgia. Technically I guess we're staying in Hardeeville, South Carolina, but it's 12 miles from the Savannah airport so I think I'm safe saying Savannah. Deliverance land. Cue dueling banjos. Off to NC/SC weekend. That's the annual hash house harriers North Carolina/South Carolina weekend. We're camping out on this old plantation in Hardeeville. The original house and slave quarters are still standing. The place is about 2200 acres or so. I think this is the last year we will be there as the owner is selling the place.

Having never been to Savannah I'm pretty excited about the trip. Flying first class and only paying $10 to do so doesn't hurt either. A few of us are flying in tomorrow so we may do an impromptu pub crawl and then head to the plantation to set up our tents. Friday everyone else arrives and there will be a shooting star trail as well as tons of alcohol. Saturday there is rumored to be a trail. Then we will have a pub crawl in downtown Savannah for 5 hours. Apparently we will be hitting all the top touristy spots so I can bore y'all with photos upon my return. The theme is 80s so I'm more than prepared to sport my 80s "fashion" for everyone. That night will be a dance party. Sunday I think there is another trail and then everyone heads out. SM and I at least are staying through Monday. Not sure if we'll camp Sunday night or get a hotel room.

Only thing that sucks despite the forecast for some thunderstorms is that I'm now going to pack like a chick. I have one big bag that has my tent, air mattress, sheets, blanket, etc. Then I'll have a smaller bag for clothes. I'm the girl who can go to Europe for a month in a carry-on bag or Aus/NZ for 5.5 weeks in a backpack. Therefore, it pains me to be taking two bags. But you gotta do what you gotta do.

Can't wait for the trip though 4:45am shuttle tomorrow is going to be painful. I do plan on following RC's sage advice - "If you see a little kid with no teeth and a banjo, run away!"

Oh, and I'm taking bets to see who thinks good old Aunt Flow is going to come visit while I'm camping out this weekend!

This trip is brought to you by the letter D and the number 4.

Everything You Never Wanted to Know

Played around w/ a few more of those quizzes. Here's how I am in love...not that any of you care. Sadly, it's probably pretty darn accurate.

How You Are In Love

You take a while to fall in love with someone. Trust takes time. You tend to give more than take in relationships. You need your space and privacy. You don't like to be smothered. You love your partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change. You stay in love for a long time, even if you aren't loved back. When you fall, you fall hard.

How Are You In Love?

This random sap moment has been brought to you by the letter S and the number 1.

The Power of Seduction

Thanks to buzz for this one:

Your Seduction Style: Au Natural

You rank up there with your seduction skills, though you might not know it. That's because you're a natural at seduction. You don't realize your power! The root of your natural seduction power: your innocence and optimism. You're the type of person who happily plays around and creates a unique little world. Little do you know that your personal paradise is so appealing that it sucks people in. You find joy in everything - so is it any surprise that people find joy in you? You bring back the inner child in everyone you meet with your sincere and spontaneous ways. Your childlike (but not childish) behavior also inspires others to care for you. As a result, those who you befriend and date tend to be incredibly loyal to you.

What Kind of Seducer Are You?

Red Rain

STORM WATCH 2005

Citizens in blogland are eagerly anticipating the arrival of Tropical Storm Flow. Flow is expected to bring gray skies, red rain and muscle spasms. Flow was due to arrive at BH's house over two weeks ago. To date, Flow has remained hidden. Common causes of Flow's absence include pregnancy, menopause and stress. BH informs us she has not been getting laid so that rules out pregnancy as a cause and she appears far too young to be going through menopause. Therefore, we will have to attribute Tropical Storm Flow's strange disappearance to stress.

Stay tuned for further updates on this breaking story.

Noise Complaints and the Police

Two weekends ago before the angel of death did her fly-by on me, I attended a bachelorette party. Before I go into the details, it's important to note that the only other person I knew that was going to be at this weekend was the bride K. I hadn't met anyone else previously.

Anyway, the organizers rented a house in Sonoma. It was a beautiful house! Perhaps I should say estate instead of house as the grounds were magnificent. Wouldn't it be nice to own a home where you can talk about maintaining the "grounds"? I digress...There was a fabulous pool in the rear of the back lawn along with a pump house which was essentially another apartment.

I left work at noon to head up to the festivities. Thanks to Yahoo! Maps it took me ages longer than it should have to actually get there. I finally arrive, or think I've arrived, but no one else is there. I tried calling the bride several times to see if they had just gone wine tasting, but to no avail. I had forgotten the number of one of the women organizing the thing so was forced to place a call to a buddy who went into my email account, pulled up the number and gave it to me. I rang S (not THE S, another S) to see if she had any idea. We established I was in the right place (damn Yahoo Maps) and she asked if I had tried the door. I informed her that adding a breaking and entering charge to my record wasn't something I had planned for that weekend. I prefer to save that for my own bachelorette someday. As it turned out the house was unlocked so I made myself at home, started making my appetizer for that evening's meal and then hung out in the sunshine by the pool until they returned. K and a few friends showed up from their wine tasting and then everyone else arrived. Everyone is in their early 30s and sporting some huge rock sans me. It was interesting sitting back and people watching as their lives are very different from mine.

All in all it was a fun weekend. Friday night we did a pot-luck dinner and played some silly games. One of those was taking the Dr. Seuss purity test. Now I've taken purity tests before, but wondered what on earth good old Dr. Seuss's take on it would be. The questions included - "Have you done it on a boat? Have you done it with a goat?" I had instant visions of Glib Gal's gay goats, but brushed those aside. Anyway, I was the most pure by a long shot. I think 11 of us stayed that night. Saturday we spent all day by the pool which was great. Some folks left, some more arrived. That night we went out to dinner at some restaurant in Sonoma. Then we headed back to the house and opened pressies. We then started an impromptu dance party.

Cue the doorbell ringing and an "officer" arriving to tell us about the noise complaint. Officer Josh, your friendly neighborhood stripper, had dropped by for a routine. I must say, he was one of the better looking strippers out there. The man waxes....everything. The whole effect was ruined for me by the wedding ring, but hey, what can you do? He stayed for a couple of hours and had some pretty impressive moves. He does do his job well and isn't one of the creepy ones out there. A lot of male strippers are just nasty. He also does not have a "no touching" policy which several of the women in attendance enjoyed immensely. After the body shot he would dance a bit w/ whomever had done one. The best move of the evening - he had this one tiny Irish woman up around his waist. W/o any hesitation he throws her up onto his shoulders. Nice! The man even managed to pick me up around his waist. That is just impressive. Anyway, for the finale we had our choice - $50 for R, $65 X or $80 for XXX. As people were throwing their remaining money together, L finally shows up and chips in. L had conveniently disappeared during the rest of the show so wasn't forced to do the body shots the rest of us were. Well, she throws her money in and suddenly we have $90. Uh oh.

Let's just say I don't think we took full advantage of the XXX. I'm pretty sure there could have been a lot more that went on than what we saw. Still, it had downgraded into some bad B porn and we were ready for it to be over. After he left everyone was agreeing on the story that would be told to their Significant Others. I had to chuckle smugly as that's something I don't have to worry about. K, however, threatened to hire Officer Josh for my going-away party when I move to NZ. Not so sure what I think about that one. I think ~13 of us stayed Saturday night.

Sunday was spent cleaning up as we had to be out by noon. It was really interesting to watch the dynamics. Here you had a bunch of women in their 30s (sans me). You could tell who had been raised that you help out cleaning up and who hadn't. There were a couple women who sat their and read their Vanity Fair or some other crap magazine while the rest of us busted our asses to clean the place. That kind of stuff kills me. I'm paying the same amount they are so why is it okay for me to clean but not okay for them? An interesting social experiment waiting to happen by some PhD candidate I'm sure.

All in all it was a fabulous weekend and I met a bunch of fun women. It'll be nice to know a few more people at the wedding in a couple weeks. Now I just have to figure out what to wear since it's black-tie. The trials and tribulations of being a woman.

This moment of nudity was brought to you by the letter J and the number 2.

How Machiavellian am I?

Have you ever asked yourself this question? Yeah, me neither. However, since I learned I was less of a loser than MB, I thought it only fair to see if I was less Machiavellian than he as well.

For the record....yes, yes I am.

You Are Somewhat Machiavellian

You're not going to mow over everyone to get ahead... But you're also powerful enough to make things happen for yourself. You understand how the world works, even when it's an ugly place. You just don't get ugly yourself - unless you have to!

How Machiavellian Are You?

Health Update

Since y'all have been so sweet with your well wishes, I figured I'd update everyone on my health status.

Days I haven't thrown up: working on #4. Woohoo!
Days I've kept solid food down: working on #4. Woohoo!
Days I've felt like a normal human being: 0. Not so woo or hoo.

Basically I feel 150 times better than I did on Sun/Mon/Tues. I'm just absolutely exhausted right now. Just spent. No energy. Wed I tried to get up to go to work. Took my 9am from home as I finally drug myself out of bed at 8:30. Made it into work for my 11am. Apparently scared everyone with my paleness. It was sort of funny getting dressed for work that day b/c all my clothes were loose, my watch band was two notches tighter, etc. I decided however that 11 hours of puking will not be part of the new weight loss plan. Left around 4 to go home and take an hour nap. That turned into a 3 hour nap b/c I was so exhausted. Worked from 8pm to midnight. Then tried to go to bed and couldn't sleep for a good hour or so.

Got up around the same time yesterday and made it into work. Got complimented on losing weight. Somehow it would have meant so much more if they'd said that after I'd been working my ass off at the gym, not after I've been ill. Stayed a full day so I wouldn't screw myself by napping again. Went to bed at 9pm. Sounds great in theory. However, the neighbor's whose backyard butts up against ours have a puppy. About this time the puppy decides to start howling and barking and of course they aren't home to stop it. So much for an early night. Drug myself out of bed around 8am today. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I'm so tired, but somehow when I lay down to sleep I can't. Probably overtired. Plus I'm still dehydrated despite copious quantities of water.

Talked to my aunt last night who is a nurse (and a nun believe it or not). Think I'm going to call my doctor on Monday and talk this over with her. Everything seems to be thrown off in my body. Besides just being exhausted, nothing seems to be working right. Really gassy, but not producing much. Now I'm generally a regular, 3 times a day whether I need it or not kinda girl, so I notice when the plumbing isn't working like it normally does. I'm also almost 2 weeks late getting a visit from Aunt Flow. Now I haven't been getting laid so I'm not concerned about that aspect of it, but figure it's just another symptom of something not being right in my body. I'm generally like clockwork for that one too, and this is the second time in a few months that this has happened. Of course the last time it did, it was 1.5 weeks late and once I finished that like 2 weeks later the next one came. I figured it was karma for complaining so much about missing the first one.

So basically I'm better, but not anywhere near 100%. And I have to go work Ren Faire this weekend. While everyone else is partying yours truly will be sleeping. The exciting life I lead.

Good to Know

I'm less of a loser than MB!

I Want My Mommy

Oh my God I want to die. Sunday night I started feeling like garbage. Went to bed about 10:30pm. 11:00pm was my first trip to the bathroom. Ok, I figured once I puked I would feel better. Went back to lay down. No no, not to be. I continued puking about every 15 minutes. I knew that water is really hard on the stomach so I started drinking a bit of mineral water after each vomit. That didn't help settle it down, so I tried some Ginger Ale. That didn't help either. However, puking up liquid is so much better than the dry heaves. Around 3am I felt the need for MB's invention. Since I don't possess such a wonderful tool, I was forced to sit on the pot with a trashcan in my lap. This process continued until around 10am. Let me help you with the math - that's 11 straight hours of vomiting. I called in sick to work, but had to cut it short because I had to go vomit. I finally slept for about 3 hours. Spent the rest of the day wallowing in self-pity on the couch. I was burning one heck of a fever last night. Today I still feel like garbage, but at least liquids are staying down and things coming out the other end are relatively normal. Minus the total bodyache I'm dealing with and the fact that I get a headrush everytime I move, I feel better. I've even managed to keep down some soup. Very exciting.

I'm not good at being sick. I dislike it. I never call in sick to work. Generally I still go in even w/ a cold. So when something knocks me on my ass I don't deal with it well. Basically it all boils down to this - I want my mommy.

This moment of self-pity has been brought to you by the letters P, U, K and E and the number 11.

Make New Friends

As we all know, life gets busy and schedules get hectic. It's hard to keep in touch with old friends, even when you may live only an hour from each other. The past few weeks I've been fortunate enough to reconnect with some old friends.

First my old work buddy RC had a bbq. He lives down in Sunnyvale or Santa Clara - don't really remember and the two are pretty close together so it doesn't really matter. RC and I worked on a project from hell together a few years ago. Along with TM and GR we barely managed to stay sane dealing with the idiots we were forced to work with. We were in work areas with 6 desks in an aisle - 3 on either side. RC was in the front one and I was in the rear one with no one between us. I'm pretty sure we drove the folks on the other side of the aisle crazy. 3/4 of the conversations we were having couldn't be verbalized so we resorted to Instant Messenger. We'd be having one conversation aloud and IMing a completely different one. Or there would be silence with everyone working and all of a sudden one of us would break out in laughter due to IM. We were prety good about keeping each other in check. Well, maybe more me keeping RC in check than the other way around. ;-) Anyway, the core group of the four of us was the only reason we made it out of that project alive. RC and TM have since left our company. For some unknown reason GR and I have hung on. I get to hang out with TM quite frequently, but it's hard to hang out with RC and GR since they live down south.

That's why I was pretty excited RC was having a bbq. I got to catch up with both RC and GR. I also managed to lose $40 in poker, but those are the breaks. TM was a little bitch and decided to be out of town that weekend. It was really great to see those two guys and hang out again with the old gang. I miss the ability to do that on a frequent basis.

Later that week I received an email from JM. JM and I went to Marquette together. He was a year ahead of me. We were both Computer Science majors, neither of us fit the stereotype of our major, we were RAs together, he stocked my fridge for me since I was underage that year, we drank together, etc. He and his wife moved to Seattle a couple years ago. Turns out the week he contacted me was his last week with Deloitte Consulting and he was in SF. We got together one night at the Irish Bank for drinks and dinner. It was fantastic to hang out with him again and catch up on each other's lives. He's going back to grad school now in Chicago.

Though it's great meeting new folks, there's something about being able to just completely be yourself without having to give history. Being with folks who know you, know your strengths and your weaknesses and just accept you for who you are they way you accept them. Being with someone with whom you have history. I guess the sign of a true friendship to me was one where even though you haven't seen or spoken to someone in ages, when you do, it's like you saw each other yesterday. You just instantly fall into your old routine and no time has passed.

It reminds me of the old song:

Make new friends,
But keep the old.
One is silver
And the other gold.

This girl scout moment has been brought to you by the letters R and J and the number 10.

Hello Mr. Tyler. Going...down?

For years, one could always count on the way people behave in elevators. Everyone either stares at their shoes or they stare at the numbers above the doors. God forbid if we actually make eye contact or speak to the people with whom you are sharing a tiny metal box.

I've noticed recently this behavior has changed. Now, instead of staring at the numbers or the floor, people play with their crackberrys. Or should that be crackberries since it is plural? I dunno. Anyway, people will wait for an elevator patiently and not feel the need to look at them, but once they set foot in that little metal box and other people are around, suddenly there is a sense of urgency and they just have to know if they have received a new email. Very interesting social behavior. I would go to the effort of figuring out the psychology behind it, but then I realize there are people who spent 9 perfectly good years of their lives in school to obtain a Piled Higher and Deeper degree and it would just be selfish of me to steal their thunder.

This random observation was brought to you by the letters BH and the number 10.

Oops, I Did it Again

My landlord is the stereotypical Chinese landlord. Hey, stereotypes exist for a reason. He does things the cheapest way possible. He also has a contractor who does things the cheapest way possible. We signed a lease in Dec of 2003. We had a list of about 5 things we wanted him to fix before we moved in the middle of January. Yeah, about April I think the first thing got done. He has been in the country for I don't know how many decades, works for the city of SF, yet pretends to not speak English very well when you want something from him. He responds to letters much better than phone calls. Now, silly me, but I would think that if you could afford to buy property in SF, you would want to maintain it so you can make a mint when you sell it. Apparently I am alone in my thinking.

Anyway, Saturday night I was doing laundry. Yes, the exciting life I lead. Well, all of a sudden the washer stopped. Normally wouldn't be an issue, but it was in the end of the rinse cycle. Figuring it was just unbalanced (I was washing pillows) I readjusted the pillows. Washing machine didn't start. So I tried resetting it to the rinse cycle. Agitation begins and I think life is wonderful. Nope, when it reaches the point where it should start draining it stops again. I tried taking the pillows out and starting it. Same thing occurred. No love for me. About this point I notice a broken piece of plastic in the bottom of the washer. Uh oh.

Being the semi-resourceful person that I am I grabbed the tool kit and tried to find where it had broken off. I took the top of the washer off and was presented with far too many wires for someone that did not have an engineering degree. The "wire key" that they had probably would have been useful to a EE. To me it might as well have been in braile. Turns out that taking the top off still didn't get me where I needed to be in the machine anyway. Oh well, best laid plans. It was already 9pm so I didn't want to ring my landlord then. I'd do it on Sunday.

Sunday rolls around and I ring P. He wasn't home so I left a message. Monday around noon I get a call back. He agrees to come check it out around 3:30 with the lovely quote of "Maybe it's just too old anyway." That was music to my ears since this washing machine may be older than I am. We had also included a letter with our rent checks about a mold issue we were having in our bedrooms. We also have an issue with the tiles at the back of the tub - no grout remains. Ick! P shows up around 4. I explain what happened and he takes a look. He's going to call the Sears repair man to come look at it. Great. Cool. No worries.

Next we discuss the mold. I take him into my room and show him the mold that is growing on the wall behind my bed. The worst part is I had cleaned tons of it a couple months ago and it's back. Yuck! Well, I didn't really feel the need to clean up before he came because I figured I'd point it out and that'd be it.

No no, that would be far too easy. Instead he decides to lean in to get a closer look. I see him glance down as he does so and then he said, "Excuse me" and quickly peered at the wall. Looking down I was mortified to see the old faithful Pearl Rabbit just lying there on top of a box right by my bed in plain site. My face was as red as Santa Claus's suit as he quickly straightened and walked into my flatmate's room. Times you wish the floor would open and swallow you up kinda like the bed did to Johnny Depp in Nightmare on Elm Street #somethingorother.

Note to self - don't leave the pearl rabbit laying around when others are in the room.

This moment of humiliation was brought to you by the letter R (for red face) and 20 (the number of shades of red I turned).

Oh, and his solution to the mold - he'll paint over it with an oil based paint. Oh good, so now I can have yet another shade of white in only a particular area on my walls. Oh thrill oh joy. Anyone want to place any bets as to whether he'll actually have his contractor clean the mold off first?

Hovering

Today, like every other day, I walked into the ladies room to answer the call of nature. Not that exciting of an event. Women don't have the fascination with pee and poo (particularly poo) that men do. We just go about our business and get on with life. We don't feel the urge to share the feats of our poo with our friends. We don't believe there will be some greater reward for having the world's largest or longest poo.

So, I enter the stall with my usual amount of confidence. Low and behold when I went into the stall, there was a site everyone hates to see. Oh sure, everyone hates to see someone else's logs floating in the bowl or someone's track marks, but this was different. There, splattered all over the seat, was the remains of someone's urine. Apparently someone hovered and had really bad aim.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a hoverer from years back. All those camping trips as a child came in handy! Public toilets - just say no to sitting. Even those little seat cover things don't do it for me in public restrooms. However, at client sites I generally deem it safe to use a seat cover. I see the janitorial staff in there daily ensuring things are kept tidy. Sure, I still hover at times. I guess my aim is just better than other women's. We all have our off days, but that's when you clean up your own mess. You don't leave it there for someone else to deal with. It's not like someone can put a seat cover down and be safe from it - that darn thing will just absorb it and then it's sitting against your skin. Ick! No one wants someone else's nastiness all over them. Well, excluding those freaks who are into that whole Golden Shower thing. Blegh. Vomitous.

Anyway, for the love of God people, please remember:

If you sprinkle when you tinkle,
Please be neat and wipe the seat.

There now, isn't that better? The rest of the world thanks you.

This moment of toilet humor has been brought to you by the letter R and the number 10.

My Turn with the Weiner

I'm feeling a bit left out between MB and Glib, so I decided to have my very own weiner posting. Aren't I proud?

Last Sunday a couple friends and I went to the Renaissance Faire in Golden Gate Park. It was a nice, cool, crisp day as we walked over to the Faire. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, it wasn't Africa-hot like it had been in Novato...all in all a good day. We arrive at the entrance gaits in the best of moods, never guessing a travesty awaited us. We boldly step up to the booth to buy our tickets and are confronted with the most dastardly sign one can read:

"The Puritans are at it again. There will be no ale stands, wine gardens, or any alcohol of any sort served on the premises. You may bring in your own. We apologize for any inconvenience."

Any inconvenience?!?!?! See, if you have told me that before I got there I could have stopped at a store and stocked up. Don't tell me when I'm in the middle of Golden Gate Park w/o a liquor store anywhere near. Argh! Luckily I had my flask of Bushmills. Even more luckily we ran into the right crowd and ended up drinking all day anyway.

What does this have to do with weiners you ask? Why nothing. Nothing at all. But the hope of a good weiner story has kept you reading. Ok, ok, I'll play nice and get to that part.

Met this guy named Sean. Or maybe it's Shawn. I dunno. Anyway, cute guy with great eyes and wearing a kilt. What more could a girl ask? We hung out at the end of Faire together. Eventually he got my number, but of course hasn't called and I'm really not arsed by it at all. Anyway, somehow the conversation came around to weiners. Don't ask me how, there was lots of ale and whisky and whiskey and a bunch of other alcohol involved. Did I mention there was whiskey? He mentioned that he wears a ~20lb sporen for a reason. Apparently said person is not able to control his erections and they tend to occur at the most inopportune times. I somehow thought that stopped when you were like 16, besides the given morning wood, but apparently I was wrong. Learn something new every day. Anyway, he wears it to keep the boy down. Fair enough. It had turned into a rather cold afternoon with the fog rolling in and I was freezing my bits off so I made some comment that due to shrinkage it probably wouldn't be needed today. With bravado he corrected me saying that it was still an issue. Being friends with too many hashers and having seen too many small weiners (probably not as many as C, but she doesn't read this blog anyway), I had my doubts.

After he got my number he gave me a long hug and kiss goodbye. Now, remember that it's pretty darn cold at this point. Then he moved the sporen to the side and showed me (through the kilt, not the actual thing) why he wears such a heavy one. Oh good Christ! That thing must be ginormous! It was only a little above half mast and the only word running through my head was "DAMNNNNNNNNNNNNN." Ok, granted, it was followed closely by, "Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww" as I figured that something that size must hurt like a son-of-a-bitch when inside a girl. I mean, if that's the size of it on a cold day, what must it be like normally? I have to give the guy credit, it was not false bravado he had displayed earlier. It really was a fact. Fair play to him.

Ok, so there's my weiner story. Not as good as some, but hey, it's all mine.

This random weiner moment has been brought to you by the letter S and the number 28.