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January 2005

More People I Hate

More people I hate:

  • Stupid Bay Area soccer moms who are intimately acquainted with the struggles of starving children and oppressed peoples on the other side of the planet but who somehow remain completely and woefully oblivious to the people two feet behind them in line at the store while they start searching for their credit cards or checkbooks AFTER their stuff is rung up and while they stand there rearranging their purses and blocking the ATM terminal for half an hour after paying so no one else can check out…
  • Corvette-driving, ugly, old men with bad hair who tailgate people driving in the slow lane on the freeway. Does anyone under 50 (or with good hair) EVER purchase a Corvette? No. It’s marketed to a”rebellious” old white guy in the midst of a major mid-life crisis who wants a “hot” car but also still wants the familiar GM/Delco stereo with all the buttons in exactly the same place they were in the Oldsmobile he traded in for the Corvette. These cars are apparently designed for people who want to drive really aggressively but are too wimpy to do so anywhere other than the far right lane…
  • Newscasters who repeatedly refer to rain as “bad weather”…
  • Rachel Konrad, for no other reason than allowing a word like “exergaming” to be used in a legitimate news piece and thus potentially to be used again by someone I might actually have to HEAR saying it…

Dreams: The Bus

It was a really long and very cold San Francisco day, and I was glad to see the 12-Folsom finally coming down The Embarcadero. Once I finally got on the bus, I realized I only had a five dollar bill. We were almost to my stop on the edge of downtown Greensboro before a nice platinum-blonde lipstick lesbian (who was strangely flirty) gave me change so I could pay the fare.

I got off the bus and walked a couple of blocks toward Elm Street. For some reason, the stop wasn’t at its normal place, but I didn’t find this terribly odd. I was, however, surprised by all the clutter in the streets: barricades, concrete barriers, etc. Then I realized that I was in a roped-off area along with an older lady who had been on the bus with me. And all of a sudden, there was a crowd of onlookers by the ropes – hundreds of them.

I heard a pop like a firecracker, then a horn and a bell, and a shout. Instantly, I knew what was going on. I turned around, and within seconds, a 12-story building a block a way was being imploded. Thinking fast, I suggested that the older lady and I run away quickly before we were enveloped in a cloud of dust. I was particularly worried about the dust, because I was already a little stuffy. We ran across all the debris in the street, debris which didn’t come from the building, but which had already been there when we arrived.

A couple of blocks away, we figured we’d safely outrun it all. There were still lots of spectators milling about. Everyone looked a little lost because they apparently had torn down a different building than the one everybody was expecting. We waited a while to see if they’d go ahead and bring down the right one too, but I got bored and decided to walk home.

After hiking the three or four miles down Spring Garden Street to my parents’ house, I found Mark there waiting for me with several friends I hadn’t seen in years and whose names I couldn’t remember. Mark and I decided to go to bed.

And I woke up with him this morning back in San Francisco, ready for another day at work. I hope today and tonight will be slightly less eventful. I’m rather tired.