Thanks

Thanks much to Adric (whose email address I also can’t find) for the two great books. Email me, wouldja?

Gold Country

This one was just too much to resist. Came up with lots of exciting photos while driving through Gold Country on Sunday. An email correspondent pointed out that a vintage Safeway could be found in Pollock Pines, and that’s about as much of an excuse as I need for a quickie road trip.

In case you’re planning to send some of your friends or co-workers there, Jackass Hill Road (and presumably the hill itself) can be found off Highway 49 between Angel’s Camp and Sonora. It’s just down the road from the Glory Hole Center. What a convenient state California is! Jackass disposal and glory holes only a few miles apart.

Something of substance tomorrow, I promise.

I may not keep that promise.

Tastes Like You Spent Minutes

Could there be a better comfort food than Jello No-bake Cheesecake? As my friend Jon used to say, “Mmmm. Tastes like you spent minutes.”

Not, mind you, that I was feeling particularly uncomfortable today. I just had one on the verge of expiring and I figured I deserved it for getting so much done this week. Of course, had I gotten nothing at all done, I also would have believed I deserved it, as a stress-reliever.

This would explain my ample frame, no doubt.

Speaking of pre-packaged dessert products, time is running out for your submissions to the next installment of Did You Bring Bottles. I’ve already had one anoymous bit of mail with lots of great information, not to mention a couple with actual names attached to them. You could be next.

Speaking of food, I’m once again pondering the idea of my birthday gathering in August. Last year, I invited any intersted complete strangers (and a few friends), and it was pretty cool. I’m thinking of Tad’s again, just because it works so well when you have no idea how many people will show up. Other suggestions welcome. Gifts are neither required nor encouraged.

I’m also interested in hearing from anyone who could offer me some fascinating journal ideas, since I apparently have none right now. If only I were in the mood to go out, get drunk, and do something (or someone) stupid. Alas, I’m not. Oh well…

Poor Athertonians

My heart really goes out to the poor bluebloods in Atherton whose garden parties have been disturbed by construction noise. It must be very distressing to them, and a real comfort to know that their economic clout can put and end to construction on weekends and holidays.

I understand their pain, because my neighborhood faces construction noise every day, and now we’re going to start hearing it every night too, since CalTrans has scheduled freeway retrofit work outside my window from 4-10 AT NIGHT for the next two months or so. I hate to think of the effect this will have on MY garden parties.

Of course, I didn’t pay five or ten million bucks for my house, so my predicament is naturally less important than the one faced by Atherton’s residents. My only consolation is that the yuppie idiots in the shoddily-constructed live/work loft across the street probably will hear (and feel) even more of the pile drivers than I will.

Speaking of idiots, check out David K’s intersting take on these idiots. Yes, I was quoted. Yes, I would have been amused even if I hadn’t been quoted. May be your only chance to read a Carl Jung citation on a smut site.

While you’re looking around, you might also check out this great page on the TenderNob, from a pretty darned good all-around site.

I’m now waiting for the UPS guy to show up. I hate UPS. As a company, they elevate incompetence and bad customer service to epic proportions. But that’s another rant…

This Week in…

Until today, it had apparently happened to just about everyone in San Francisco but me. I was so excited that it was finally my turn to get hit in the head by a nice big gob of pigeon shit while walking down Seventh Street.

Other than that, though, it’s been a passable week. There was slutdom on Saturday night, followed by a different flavor of slutdom on Monday night, dinner and fireworks with Dan and Jamie on Tuesday night, and lots of sleep on Wednesday. I think I’ve recovered just in time for the upcoming weekend.

Sixteen years ago this week, I was dumping a boyfriend and actively seeking a replacement. Fourteen years ago this week, I was dealing with someone who sort of became a boyfriend but sort of didn’t. Thirteen years ago this week I was still dealing with him. Nine years ago this week, I had finally learned that having boyfriends was no fun and I was being a major slut on a two-month trip to Charlotte. Three years ago this week, I reconsidered briefly but I came to my senses pretty fast, and I’ve pretty much stayed sane ever sense.

While we’re in the archives (for this month’s “I can’t think of any original content” journal entry):

Twenty years ago this week, I stole my mom’s car. I was not yet 16. She suspected. It was not pretty.
Fifteen years ago this week, I quit being the rock and roll DJ at the local queer bar. I still stick by that decision and was proud of my stand to protect the downtrodden heterosexuals of the world.
Two years ago this week, I was taking on the idiots who wear giant backpacks in crowded bars at night. They continue to annoy me.
This week last year, I was having my annual midlife crisis. Let’s not speak of 1999 again. I didn’t enjoy most of it.