Thanks for the Cakestand, Mikey…

…it’s perfect! Convertible type, which you can invert into a fruit or punch bowl considering they’re such space hogs. Thank you!

Let them eat cake.

Unfucking Believable

I go out to have breakfast with my old boss this morning in Palo Alto. On the way, I stop for a car wash. When we get there, as always I park away from everyone, as I don’t want anyone touching my car, dinging it, molesting it, looking at it funny, thinking bad thoughts about it, etc. Trust me, I’m beyond anal about my car… to the point where I just annoy the shit out of most of my passengers. I’m even crazy enough to have bought a camera phone just to take pictures of license plates if I’m forced to park near someone in a crowded parking lot.

However, during breakfast, some shitbag hit my car, leaving a giant dent in my front quarter panel and tearing the front body molding. (Think reversing out of parking space and turning too sharp.) Shitbag left no information. Even a fucking apology would of been nice. I know this happened there, since I walked around and inspected the car not 3 hours earlier at the car wash and the only place I had parked was in that lot.

People suck.

Oh, and during breakfast? A roach crawled up onto the table under my left arm. I should of been suspicious — God’s been known to warn before via insects.

It’d be a small miracle, but if you saw anyone in the city parking lot behind 447 California St in Palo Alto hit-n-run a black Acura this morning around 11a-noon, let me know. I swear I’d hunt them down like a dog in the night if I had anything to go on…

Jesus, people suck!

Any recommendations for a top-notch body shop in the bay area?

Anyway… Happy New Year. I don’t think it’s possible for 2004 to such any worse than 2003, so at least that’s something… right?

Ugh, so unhappy.

Parental Units Over Iowa

My parents are in-route to San Francisco for the holidays, choosing to visit me this year… I’m not entirely freaked out yet, and Mike is still here for moral support (and to provide a distraction).

Things will pretty much go like this:

Soon after deplaning: Complaints about airline, seats, food, and connecting airport. “We like Charleston’s airport.” (The fact that there’s no directs between Charleston and SFO is completely beside the point.)

Parking lot: Complaints about the car, it’s lack of four doors, it’s color and interior, and the sport seats. Bonus point: impressed by navigation system.

Car ride up to Napa: “So… what did you do to get laid off?” Demand for an itinerary and list of dinner reservations. Inevitable comment about selection of music.

@ the Napa B&B: Some back-handed comment about the room and about how it’s costing them “over $100 a night.” (Truth is it’s $280 a night, and I’m paying the difference.)

And that’s day one! They’re here until the 26th.

They’ve already made things difficult enough. I bought e-Tickets, since paper tickets were $40 extra per ticket (and there is two per person each way), and they were utterly unconvinced they would be able to get on the plane without a physical ticket.

Anxiety increasing…

Weekend Update

On Thanksgiving, I whipped us a mes’-a-sumthing! Butternut Squash Crumble (ala Martha), Potato Rolls, Buttermilk Pound Cake with Lemon Icing and Raspberry Sauce, and smoked ham. Mmmm… good! Although I do need a food processor. My crap kitchen is over-flowing with uber-gadgets, including the mondo KitchenAid and Le Creuset for miles, so I’m not even sure why I don’t have one yet… Santa?
Thanksgiving night, Mike and I went to Alegria. Having seen La Nouba, Dralion, Mystere, and O (3x), Cirque has yet to disappoint. I know it’s all a bit fruity to love a bunch of French Canadians that much (especially given Celine), but this ain’t Madonna or Babs… so shuddup. To get the best seats, you’ve gotta buy their “Tapas Rouge” package which consists of all sorts of foo-foo extras like a VIP tent with drinks, hor d’oeuvres, and dessert.
Saturday, dealmac pointed me to a 200GB HD at Circuit City for $249. Not a good price, but $150 in rebates brought it down to a steal at $99.99. 7200rpm with a 8MB Cache. Fancy. Natch, 8 weeks for rebate processing. Ugh. My 4 year old Mac now packs 1.5GB in memory and half a terabyte in storage. Think it’s time for a G5.
Saturday night saw Lost In Translation. Feel good. Bill Murray needs a face lift and dermabrasion.
Um, that’s about it.

Wanna exploit my scar, little girl?

I heard the line of those waiting to piss on my grave was lined up around the corner, but alas, I did live through my surgery on 10/14. Still recovering… but not dead.
Oh, and Happy Halloween!

BofA Luvs Me

So, I deposited a bunch of money into my Bank of America checking account a few weeks ago to pay for a big expenditure. (Natch, I don’t give my “real” money to BofA.)
Since then, I’ve received no less than two “We luv you, we care” type letters in the mail, and today I got — get this — the 2004 Zagat Survey Movie Guide courtesy of BofA. As if that had ANY relevance to banking, or investing, or anything remotely related to BofA.
I don’t know if I’m just special, or if they’re trying to stem some bad press, but it sure is annoying and highly suspicious. Like most banks, they’re greedy, greedy, and greedy. Like really, really greedy. This means high fees, constant monitoring of your account for the slightest infraction (so they can charge a fee), and rude tellers who could probably be outsmarted by trained monkeys. (Of course, talking to the tellers costs a service fee — but, thankfully, talking to monkeys is still free.)
Alrighty then.
Update: I’m not special. My friend Lori got the same thing. Still: relevance. Please?

Bloodsucking and The Family Guy

Got vampired today in a pre-op visit. Naturally, the vein was missed the first 3 times, and I became a pin cushion. I hate needles — intensely. It’s a wonder I didn’t faint.
Oh, and when I asked “What happens if there’s some catastrophic turn of events and I’m at risk of dying?” there was a long pause… very long… total silence and bewilderment at the question. She had no answer… but then finally, she astutely mentions “Well, there’s a hospital next door.” So I asked “Isn’t that YOUR hospital?” meaning the hospital with the same name as the out-patient surgery center I’m sitting in now. “Oh yeah,” she replies. Gee, ain’t that fucking grand.
On a completely unrelated note, I realized this morning The Family Guy Season 3 came out on DVD earlier this month. Whee!

My fingers smell like…

…Keebler Fudge Shoppe Deluxe Graham Cookies.
Just thought you’d like to know.

Alone Again

My roommate Scott moved back to Atlanta today. He’s driving cross-country in a 12-foot Ryder truck with bald tires. I’ll call Dateline.
I’m filthy from helping load the truck, but I’ve managed to vacuum that floor for the first time in 4 years and promptly shifted all sorts of crap laying around the apartment to the newly vacant area. (It hasn’t helped much.)
Anyway, place will be a little lonely… but I’ll survive. Not planning on any new roommates.