Y’know, it’s touchy meeting someone I really like and talking about it on the website, especially since I’m known for a sort of detached cynicism and the slightest trace of irony. I come off sounding either insincere or unnervingly gooey. Therefore I’m not going to try at all right now. So there…
I got this message too and fear others may have gotten it by having websites I link to. This is, by the way, not an ordinary spammer; he used my email form to send it to me individually. I read him the riot act, and after three rounds of email, he managed to sound out all the words and realize he’d done something sort of stupid…
Note to clueless idiot: the fact that you did a Yahoo search on the term “sex club” does not necessarily indicate that every page found will be owned by a sex club or will even be about sex clubs in any way. Nor will the links found on said page…
Wow. Context. What an interesting and elusive concept…
I would never email someone from a website without actually reading a significant portion of what he or she had to say first. But then again, I don’t have a large sex club building I need to unload quickly…
So there are these people who have been protesting in front of the building where I work part-time. They’re apparently not happy with the property management company which runs the building for hiring a certain contractor. It’s a cute protest; they have a giant inflatable rat to symbolize “rat contractor”.
Their issues are that this contractor has no respect for labor, the community, nor people’s families. Unfortunately, they seem completely unable to tell anyone WHY they feel this way. I took one of their flyers, hoping it might shed some light on the subject and offer some specifics. It didn’t; all it said was pretty much that “they are bad and we don’t like them…waaahhhh…”
Maybe the contractor really is completely and totally evil. I’d never know from their protest and I’d be hard-pressed to care. I guess they’re operating on the assumption that passers-by will naturally be appalled by any hint of labor or human rights violations, whether backed by any specific evidence or not.
In San Francisco, where gullability rules, conspiracy theories are gospel, and critical thinking is too often an afterthought, it’s probably a pretty safe tactic…
Note to my bus driver from this afternoon: a little patchouli goes a REALLY long way…
Unrelated: a friend of mine asked if I was going to the Castro for Halloween tonight. OK, it wasn’t a very close friend, but still. Everyone knows I go out of my way to avoid the Castro even at the most inocuous of times. Why on earth would I go down there on a night when the streets would be full of half a million people, 499,992 of whom would really get on my nerves?
This is a scream. San Francisco’s most useless newspaper is starting to seem more and more like it’s the setting for a bad sitcom…
Sunday afternoon. The house is reasonably clean, my car has been brought upto code, I sent Mark on his way back to Fresno a few minutes ago, and I don’t really have any work to do. I should complete some great and wonderful task now, but I think I’m probably just going to watch a movie, read the paper, and maybe fall asleep on the couch…
Damn. It just hits me that my plan might actually involve having to go up to the corner store to GET a paper. May have to scratch that idea for now…
Lethargic? Me? Never…
Oddly enough, I actually did accomplish things tonight, most of them tiny updates to miscellaneous pages on both sites (but mostly in the San Francisco section at Planet SOMA), all of which were way too minor to list here. Now I’m really going to fall asleep…
Very strange day. I haven’t had one single piece of email all day (spam and mailing list stuff included) since a message from Dan first thing this morning. Nothing work-related, no forwarded jokes (yes!), and no lesbian porn ads. I should probably just sit back and enjoy it, but with all the ISP trouble I’ve had lately, I can’t help wondering if something’s up. Still, I sent myself a test message from a Yahoo account and received it quite promptly…
Maybe it’s just that no one likes me anymore. Or maybe it’s just karmic revenge for the glacial pace at which I answer mail. Either way, I’m pretty sure I can live with it…
Bad news: when I went to the cardiologist today, I learned that my heart rate was up quite a bit. I sort of already knew this, after a relatively short Sunday walk left me panting and sweating…
Good news: said cardiologist told me in his wry and mellow manner (I like my cardiologist) that I should “always be concerned, but never worry” and then tweaked my medication, eliminating the nasty six dollar a day stuff that I hate so much. Now I’m back to only three moderately toxic heart/circulatory drugs and one moderately toxic thyroid drug…
All this fun should theoretically end after the first of the year, I hope…
And a happy fortieth birthday to Leif Garrett. His prominently bulging crotch (if not his lack of any discernible talent) was an important part of my adolesecent sexual development. Remember when male celebrities were actually allowed to HAVE penises rather than just to make tasteless jokes about them?
