Personal

I may have finally found the best bar jukebox in all of San Francisco. The bar surrounding said jukebox is Lucky 13 on Market Street. I was there tonight at a going away party for a friend who’s escaping Kinko’s (at least for a while). There are few things more wonderful than forcing an entire bar to listen to “Let’s Have a War” by Fear. I love livin’ in the city.

There was a joke embedded in that last sentence. Most people won’t get it. I’m comfortable with that.

David’s funk seems to have lifted, you may be thinking. Alas, it’s not true. I’m just masking it better. There could be denial involved. Who knows?

All I know is that now, in addition to being depressed and insomniac, I’m having to face the fact that I may be (shudder) lactose intolerant. I’ll spare you the scatalogical details and just say that consuming Count Chocula now seems to come with a price. I haven’t yet tried any of that stuff from those commercials I used to laugh at. Suggestions welcome, as long as they don’t involve soy milk.

Gee heck. I’m just falling apart, huh? Yeah, I know. Most of the world’s population would kill to have problems as insignificant as mine. That’s small comfort when I have a case of the trots and I’m out of Charmin, dammit…

I really don’t have much to say tonight. I found this lovely tidbit at the Super K-mart in Oakland last night when Dan, Jamie and I popped in after dinner. It’s hard to beat the Super K-mart for late night fun. We spent almost two hours there. I bought cookies. Jamie bought socks. Dan bought gum. But it’s not about the purchases. It’s about playing with all the toys and looking at all the strange synthetic blends in the clothes.

This afternoon, I finally took the official version of Did You Bring Bottles live just in time to feature my timely obituary for Lucky Stores. The idea of shopping at Albertson’s is without any sense of fun. Albertson’s sounds like it should be the name of a feed store.

And last night, I had an unexpected quick dinner with out-of-town friend Jim. He gave me an animated mouse pad and the video which I’ll be watching in a few minutes. He too felt the awsome power of Millineos.

Today, I went driving in the rain. It was wonderful.

Not much else going on. I’m preparing for my trip to North Carolina on Thursday to help Mom and Dad celebrate 50 years of wedded bliss (and to see how many relatives ask me when I’ll be celebrating ANY wedded bliss). I’ll try to do an update or two from there on Mom’s new Mac, but I ain’t making any promises.

Anybody got a spare parking space for my car while I’m gone?

This is starting to creep me out just a little. A LOT of people (including my mom) lately have commented that I seemed to have lost a lot of weight. I figured they were just being polite. Then I went out to the corner queer bar last night and ran into a frind I hadn’t seen in a few months. He said the same thing, worrying, even, that there might be some health issue involved (the standard San Francisco reaction to weight loss).

Frankly, I think I’m as much of a lard-ass as ever, although I realized last night that I no longer own scales so I can’t really tell. God knows I still eat as horribly as ever, although I have been eating at home more lately, which does usually mean more vegetables. I haven’t been eating quite as much fast food, and I’ve just about sworn off booze. But I’m still quite sedentary, perhaps even more so than I used to be.

It’s a little difficult to figure out the truth here. Friends who see me every day or every week probably wouldn’t notice, and it’s not easy to arrange chance encounters with long-lost friends.

Now that I think about it, though, my pants aren’t feeling quite so tight today and my gut may not look quite so prominent. If I have lost a lot of weight, I’m glad, because I really needed to. But it sure would be nice to know how I did it, since I haven’t really been doing anything much differently than before. September and October were pretty rough months, though. Maybe I just sweated it off…

So now I’m contemplating losing still more weight, having a check-up (just in case), and selling my secrets to the world, as soon as I figure out what they are.

***

A little later same day. My friend Paula had the same “you’ve lost weight” opinion today as we headed for the thrift stores in Redwood City. I guess I believe it now…

The lady from the credits on the Mary Tyler Moore Show just died. Not Mary, mind you, but the lady behind her on Nicollet Avenue when she threw her hat in the air. Why do I care? Because I have this strange connection to Minneapolis and because I’ve been on that very corner, taking pictures while someone who wasn’t Mary threw his hat too.

Minneapolis was my very first online road trip, over three years ago. I went back last year. It has even been suggested (on more than one occasion) that I should consider migrating. At times over the past few years, it has seemed like everyone I knew either lived in the Twin Cities or was from there.

But damn, does it get cold in the winter…

Speaking of strange connections, Bill tells me that North Carolina-based Krispy Kreme Doughnuts broke ground on its first Bay Area location today. It’s a good 30 miles away (in Union City) but this is a sign that there may yet be hope for this pretentious yuppie paradise. If I remember correctly, Krispy Kreme just serves plain old coffee and refers to its sizes as “large” and “small”.

First Chia sighting of the season: a commercial for the Chia Herb Garden on UPN44 airing as I type. When my ex-roomie moved out, he left me in possession of a couple of unused 1993 models. Do they keep? Would it have helped if I’d frozen them? Is there a Chia Pet website? I don’t feel like looking, but there has to be (there is).

By the way, UPN44 gets the above link as revenge against the other (unnamed) Bay Area station which didn’t give me a job a few months back and also stopped running “The Streets of San Francisco”. Damn them.

Lastly, having now rambled back toward the subject of TV, may I state how disoriented I’m going to feel tomorrow morning when all the cable channels change in San Francisco?

I’ll stop now.

1983. Before the phone phobia hit.

I will never own a cell phone. Before I start, Let me make it clear that this is not one of those increasingly popular rants against cell phones or their users. No, this is all about me, thank you, and about the fact that I absolutely HATE talking on the phone. Why on earth would I want any gadget which might make it necessary to do so more often?

My dad hates talking on the phone too. He always has. I guess that’s where I learned it. Dad is the kind of person who, when confronted with, say, an insurance billing question, would just as soon drive to the agent’s office (even if it’s in the next town) rather than make a phone call. I don’t go quite that far, although I will go online first wherever possible.

He also has a habit of going to the next room to make calls. I used to think it was because he was self-conscious about being on the phone in front of other people (as I often am). Now I realize it probably had more to do with the hearing problems he was developing after years of managing a pre-OSHA manufacturing plant.

My distaste for the telephone no doubt increased during all those years I worked in retail and customer service jobs. Invariably, a ringing phone meant I was about to get verbally abused by some yuppie slime who seemed to be on the verge of a stroke.

Phone etiquette pet peeves:

• People who call ME and then immediately put me on hold. I generally hang up.
• Call waiting. Possibly the rudest technology of the past twenty years. If you want people to contact you while you’re on the phone, then get voice mail so they can leave a message, dammit.
• Answering machines with interminably long messages.
• Idiots who, upon hearing your voice, realize they have a wrong number and then hang up without saying anything.

I’d be quite happy to avoid phone calls from here to eternity. But I probably won’t be able to. Thanks to email, I’m at least spared a significant number, though. Email is good. Email makes me happy. Phones just make me queasy.