Month: January 2001

Just got back from ladies’ night where we traded mom stories. I told Amy that my mom sends Christmas cards to people she met in the dentist office waiting room. Amy told me that she caught her mom talking to strangers on the bus about her parents’ illnesses. This reminded me of yesterday morning when I was sitting next to a guy on Muni who looked just like Prince William. I was actually turning toward him to tell him so when I realized that if I did, I’d be that woman on the bus telling a perfect stranger that he looked like Prince William. Sobering.

11:44 p.m.

From the “Yeah, I’ve done that” department. Words of wisdom from Booboolina:

“Note to self:

When picking the jeans that you wore yesterday up
from the floor in preparation for putting them on
today, check to see that the underwear you were
also wearing yesterday are no longer in them…
BEFORE YOU PUT THEM ON.”

1:44 p.m.

I just finished Michael Cunningham’s The Hours. I wanted to hate it, because it’s loosely based on Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway. I loved Mrs. Dalloway and expected Cunningham to ruin something essential. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised. Some excerpts:

  • “In school she was one of several authoritative, aggressive, not quite beautiful girls so potent in their money and their athletic confidence they simply stood where they stood and insisted that the local notion of desirability be reconfigured to include them.”
  • “Men may congratulate themselves for writing truly and passionately about the movements of nations; they may consider war and the search for God to be great literature’s only subjects; but if men’s standing in the world could be toppled by an ill-advised choice of hat, English literature would be dramatically changed.”
  • (And a pug quote for Swen.) “Viginia’s eyes met those of one of the pugs, which stares over its fawn-colored shoulder at her with an expression of moist, wheezing bafflement.”

8:53 a.m.

I buy some daffodils on my way to work. As I’m walking, I realize that I’m carrying flowers and a book of poetry as I trot along the Streets of San Francisco. Suddenly, I’m the over-the-top “sensitive girl” and my life is a bad undergraduate play.

1:26 p.m.

EMAIL MOMENT!

Subject: Cynicism kicks in.

Excerpt:

“I swear I used to think
everyone kinda had a similar life to mine, but anymore I’m
sure
they have a lot less fun, eat a lot more bran, have
a
lot more low quality sex, and mail each other
inspirational cards that they actually read.”

12:04 p.m.

This guy fights with his girlfriend. A lot. So much that he has a rather lengthy page devoted to the subject, “Things my girlfriend and I have argued about.” A sampling:

  • I eat two-fingered Kit-Kats like I’d eat any other chocolate bars of that size, i.e., without
    feeling the need to snap them into two individual fingers first. Margret accused me of doing
    this, ‘deliberately to annoy her’.
  • She pours water into the back of my monitor every time she
    waters a plant, which she refuses to have moved to another, less overtly stupid, location.
  • Margret doesn’t like to watch films on the TV. No, hold on – let me make sure you’ve got
    the inflection here: Margret doesn’t like to watch films on the TV. She says she does, but
    years of bitter experience have proven that what she actually wants is to sit by me while I
    narrate the entire bleeding film to her. “Who’s she?”, “Why did he get shot?”, “I thought
    that one was on their side?”, “Is that a bomb” – “JUST WATCH IT! IN THE NAME OF
    GOD, JUST WATCH IT”!
  • She wants to paint the living room yellow. I have not the words.
  • Margret thinks I’m vain because… I use a mirror when I shave. During this argument in the
    bathroom – our fourth most popular location for arguments, it will delight and charm you to
    learn – Margret proved that shaving with a mirror could only be seen as outrageous
    narcissism by saying “None of the other men I’ve been with” (my, but it’s all I can do to
    stop myself hugging her when she begins sentences like that) “None of the other men I’ve
    been with used a mirror to shave.”
    “Ha! Difficult to check up on that, isn’t it? As all the other men you’ve been with can now
    only communicate by blinking their eyes!” I said. Much later. When Margret had left the
    house.

(Thanks, Kevin.)

8:41 a.m.

According to Pop Bitch:

“Ricky Martin has approached Barry Manilow about recording
a version of Copacabana. This will be the best record in the
history of the world. Ever.”

(via Geno who’s just completed a redesign over at Disenchanted Prince.)

3:39 p.m.

My smart, amusing friend Bryan and his smart, amusing friends just started a promising blog called Right On America! One of Bryan’s recent posts:

“I just finished All The President’s Men and have 3 observations:

1.) If every American was forced to read the book, it would be the end of the Republican party

2.) The real winner in the 2000 election is Richard M. Nixon and Gerald Ford – their Administrations are back in force in W’s cabinet

3.) Nixon’s ‘dirty tricks’ group did some damn funny things:

* disributed all over Harlem “FREE BEER” flyers for a McGovern (Democrat) rally –
no beer made lots of people real, real mad

* Sent 100 pizza’s to several Democratic Rally [frat-boyish, but funny]

* followed Ted Kennedy’s campaign and kept calling the owner of the rally sites
to cancel the event – then the Kennedy campaign would show up to a locked building

* infilitrated the Amish [no shit]

God bless us, each and every one.”

11:44 a.m.

One of my friends at work sent me an email titled “Fun with Press Releases.”

For Immediate Release: INVISIBLE.INK LAUNCHES _PLUS-SIZE_ TEEN FASHION SITE

Turnstylz attracts plus-size teenage girls, an ever-growing segment of
the fashion industry, as well as their guardians who often influence
their purchasing decisions.

9:02 a.m.

Spent Saturday night on the Haight. Mad Dog in the Fog had an “Irish band from outer space,” and Molotov’s was dank, but Nickies featured a relatively sober girl mesmerized by her own reflection. I say sober because she managed to balance on one of the benches that circled the room, and she perched there dancing with the mirror. She would grind seductively and cast furtive, flirtatious glances at…. herself. Huh. Then someone threw up on my friend’s pants and we had to leave.

8:46 p.m.

EMAIL MOMENT!

Subject: Dating woes of a friend in med school.

Excerpt:

All the girls I want to sleep with are not returning
my phone calls, and some of the ones I have slept with
now call for free medical advice. Favorite one of
the week: How much can you drink on Lithium?

2:31 p.m.

Sometimes things annoy me more than they should. For example, the small blue signs someone has taped in our bathroom stalls.

Flush early!
Flush often!
Flush freely!
Help prevent traffic backup.

Yeah. Those are coming down.

11:44 a.m.

Looking for an unclean experience? Tune in to “Temptation Island.”

The whole show went something like this: Closeup of a guy rubbing salt on his nipple in preparation for tequila body shots. Cut to the wide-eyed, buxom girl he’s on a date with, “He’s so so DEEP.”

Yeah. He’s the Grand Canyon of humility and spiritual enlightenment. Perhaps he’ll engage in rabid monkey sex with you.

Then again, who am I to talk? The show was so embarrassing that it made my eyes water, but I watched the WHOLE thing. Sure, I showered a few times afterward, but I can still feel the dark stain on my soul.

11:44 a.m.

I’ve unwittingly misled you. One of the Americans for Purity informed me that all of the pages I link to below are spoofs (except the Biblical action figures). I was pretty hard hit until Jason sent me a link to the Church of Latterday Saints’ Steps to Overcoming Masturbation. Mr. Kottke favors step 19, “In very severe cases it may be necessary to tie a hand to the bed frame with a tie in order that the habit of masturbating in a semi-sleep condition can be broken.” I’m a fan of the Church’s take on aversion therapy: “If you are tempted to masturbate, think of having to bathe in a tub of worms, and eat several of them as you do the act.”

10:03 a.m.

So my friend Kristi sent me an URL. “God hates it when men waste sperm, no matter what the reason.” Finally, a site addressing the self-abuse epidemic. But after poking around a bit, I realized that the site had so much more to offer. As far as I can tell, none of these sites are spoofs. Oh man. Crackpot Jackpot:

  • Biblical action figures.
  • The force is a tool of satan. A Website dedicated to rooting out the evil in the Star Wars series. (Note the fantastic URL.)
  • Virigaurd, a combination athletic support and chastity belt. I highly recommend the Installation and Testimonial links. “When young boys from my congregation come to me with sexual inquiries, I counsel them to let God take care of them. If that doesn’t work, I ask them to try the Purity Athletic Viriguard for a few months. Sometimes they resist at first, but once they get used to it, they become more manageable, attend church more often, and show the signs of improvement you’d expect from those who do not pollute themselves through self-stimulation.
  • Ban breastfeeding! “Women who breast-feed enjoy an erotic experience that offensively imposes oral gratification on innocent infants. This reprehensible act teaches children illicit sex that subsequently manifests promiscuity, homosexuality and addiction to cybersex.”

2:19 p.m.

Walking home from work, I had an absurdity attack as I passed 24-Hour Fitness. The huge windows and frenetic step-class activity combined for the effect of a giant jar full of panicked bugs. The guys running on the treadmill were the bugs that keep climbing up to the top of the jar, falling, then climbing back up again. Glah.

9:27 a.m.

Gratuitous Blogger/Web Techniques Plug: Have I mentioned I love my job, and my boss? The magazine I work for just donated a new server to Blogger, the exceptional and free service I use to update my page. Here’s the announcement from the Blogger home page:

Woohoo! Remember I mentioned there would be more good news about the Server Fund? It’s this: on top of the huge contributions you all made, WebTechniques magazine bought us another server. That brings our total Server Fund contributions over $15,000 and gives us enough fire power to last a long time — or enough to hurt ourselves, we’ll see.
Here’s the official press release. Yay! WebTechniques rocks.

-Ev. [1/23/2001 10:43:23 AM]

10:58 a.m.

The best headlines from this month’s Martha Stuart Living:

  • Collecting Pincushions
  • Remembering Brioche
  • Finger-Puppet Master
  • Crocus: A little flower packed with big surprises.
  • President’s Day Pretzel Log Cabin

10:19 a.m.

After you’ve had your aura cleaned, consider having your ass read. You send Jaqueline “a fanny gram,” she tells you what your buttprint says about your soul. Well, at least now you have an excuse when your boss catches you perched on top of the photocopier. (Click on the “rumpology” button in the upper left corner.)

3:14 p.m.

This is creepy Web art. Childlike drawings with hostile-man score. If you’re at work, bust out the headphones before you click.

12:36 a.m.

EMAIL MOMENT!

Subject: College friend reminisces about his youth.

Excerpt:

My mother would frequently record tape cassettes and send
them to my grandparents, uncles and aunts, et al. to
mark our progress (this was before the invention of
the motion-picture camera). On one these tapes, my
mother tells me “stop that” seventy-eight times in a
matter of fifteen minutes. One of my favorite lines is
when she yells, “you better NOT pee on the couch.”

9:55 a.m.

Watching a kid’s infomercial about a spectacular new mechanical toothbrush, the voiceover exclaims, “BUT THAT’S NOT ALL!” My five year old niece turns to me smiling and says, “They always say, ‘that’s not all.'” Smart kid.

4:01 p.m.

The last week has not been so good. A few days ago, I managed to upset one of my closest friends. Last night, a violently crazy homeless woman charged at me while I was trying to find someplace to eat on Valencia. (She also called me a bitch, which–I think you’ll agree–was really just uncalled for.) In a few hours, I’m off to have several needles inserted in my currently unperforated arms, so some sleepy little diseases can have a party with my immune system. What wonders will the weekend hold? It could be anything, really: severe food poisoning, mugging, drive by, or a friend could visit and demand that I take him to Pier 39.

10:33 a.m.