Sunday, October 26, 2008

The Dentist


Why is it that when you go to the dentist, the hygienist insists on trying to engage you in active conversation that requires your frequent response? When you walk in, why does she start lofty discussions beyond, "Hello, how are you?" Instead, she wants to know your life goals, and your point of view on the birth of the universe. And then as soon as you begin to formulate your thoughtful answer, she shoves a hose in your mouth.

Then as you're choking on the hose and fighting death to force out a few words to complete your thought, the hygienist mutters incomprehensible nonsense through a surgical mask and waits for you to speak again. Your eyes squint as you try to understand her - and then drool pours out of the corner of your mouth as you try to respond in a way you think might answer her question.

But she doesn't notice the drool. And now it's streaming down your chin and neck, and into your shirt. When she finally notices what's happening, she reacts erratically, shoving a towel into your clothing to stop the damage. But her sudden movement knocks the hose out of your mouth, shooting a dreadful combination of water and saliva into your eye.

Hygienist: "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, are you okay?"
Me: "Mmmwwwwo!"
Hygienist: "(Laughing) Oh good, okay, not so bad."
Me: "Grrrrr."
Hygienist: "What's that?"
Me: (Silent anger)

After she's drenched you, she initiates the scraping of the teeth. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard and feels just about as pleasant. You want to hear anything other than the sound of this scraping, but guess what - she's concentrating now - really hard. And she's no longer speaking to you. So you don't even get the pleasure of listening to her mumble through her mask. The scraping is making your ears burn, and you're staring up at the ceiling, from which a TV/DVD combo player is hanging. On the wall, you notice a shelf with videos of all of your favorite shows. You briefly wonder why all of this is in here - and then you answer your own question when you see the headphones hanging on the other wall next to you. Ah, someone thought it would be nice for patients to be distracted from the discomfort of dentistry with real entertainment.

You look at your hygienist and look up at the TV - look back at the hygienist and again up at the TV. You suspect she's gotten the hint when she stops scraping. And then she lets out a sigh and resumes.

#$^#@$^#@!@#$%!!!!!

This Invisalign I was punked into getting better be worth it.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Workin' 9 to 5...What a Way to Make a Livin'


Well, that was brutal.

First week back on the job - I (thank God) started on a Wednes-day as not to have a heart attack working 5 days straight for the first time in 9 weeks. By Thursday, I was exhausted and could think of nothing more than the weekend. How am I possibly going to survive this? I must immediately begin devising a plan that involves not working and amassing income.

Anyway, enough about work - that's depressing - especially since now, I find myself staring at young women dressed in Lululemon looking happy during commute hours, and wondering why I'm not with them. Instead, let's talk about a phone call I received earlier this week:

RRRRING!
(Pause)
I think to myself, "Should I answer that? It's 7 pm on a weekday - probably a telemarketer."
RRRRING!
(Pause)
I rationalize, "Oh what the hell, I'm not busy. Let's see what they want to sell me."
(Answering the phone)
Me - "Hello?"
Caller - "Hi, I'm calling from Gallup Poll Research..."

I tune out everything else he's said. This is AWESOME. I am finally being polled by Gallup. After years of reading these polls and wondering who the $%^#$@ the people are they're talking to, I finally get to share my two cents. It's about time! Yes, sir, I DO have an opinion about this year's election, and I AM happy to share it with you! In fact, might I introduce you to my blog, sfinthecity.blogspot.com...

Me - "Oh, hello!"
Caller - "Yes, I'm conducting some research on attitudes towards drinking..."

WHAT? This is not about the election? I don't want to talk about drinking. I want to talk about Obama and McCain and his ho-bag of a wife, Cindy (she only became a ho-bag when she disparaged Obama for allegedly voting against military funding that impacted, amongst other soldiers, her son)! I don't want to talk about beer. Call someone else to talk about that. Come on, ask me about the election!

Me - "Uhuh."
Caller - "I just need to ask you some questions to verify that you qualify for the study."
Me - "Okay."
Caller - "How many adults over the age of 24 live in your residence?"
Me - "Two."
Caller - "And am I speaking with one of them?"
Me - "Yes."

Okay, this is not too bad. I still get to answer questions about myself, and I can see that this is going to lead to me sharing my opinion on something. That'll do. This is good.

Caller - "Okay, now I need to speak with the person in the household with the more recent birthday."
Me - "Ummm..."

What the hell kind of question is that? Does he mean he wants the person who more recently celebrated a birthday, or the person who is the youngest and therefore was more recently born? Damnit, either way, that's not me.

Me - "That's the other person who lives here."
Caller - "And I'm guessing that person is not available..."
Me - "No, he's not here right now."

Okay, surely, he will keep asking me questions and I can shape the outcome of his research.

Caller - "Yeah, that happens to me a lot. Maybe I'll try back again later. Thank you for your time."

Click.

Is it really possible that I just got rejected and cut off by someone whose job it is to phone people at home and interrupt their evenings...and I'm upset about it? That's kind of...pathetic.

I'm still waiting for my return phone call.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Home, Sweet Home


Dorothy said it best:
"There's no place like home."

After not leaving LA yesterday until 6:30 p.m., then having to slog over dreaded Hwy 152 to pick up our car, housed in our friends' Menlo Park garage (thanks, Alexander and Sheryn!), we arrived on the Jackson St. scene at about 2:00 a.m.

In addition to the comfort of our bed last night, I enjoyed waking up to the quiet of a street that lacks doormen, a synogague, and a Hebrew School that doubles as a Fallout Shelter. I walked without fearing for my life as drivers waved me through the crosswalk. And upon first sighting, our neighbors engaged us in a 10-minute conversation about our trip, the economy, and the beautiful weather. Admittedly, I was initially confused by the sound of the word "Hello," but thankfully managed to contain my surpise. To cap it all off, we even ate Mexican food for lunch that exhibited actual flavor.

Now before you go thinking I'm a New York hater who must have been miserable for the past 9 weeks...not even close. I shed a single tear every day I'm not at Exhale Spa. And the phrase "back to work" still sounds like something other people do after the weekend...not me. Don't get me wrong - I like my job - and all of you there even more. But given the choice (and I can say this with certainty now), I'd opt out of the whole work thing in a heartbeat. Believe me, in case you're not sure: It is entirely possible to fill each and every one of your days with plenty aside from meetings and "30,000 foot views."

So what's next for this blog, now that I don't have the bad fashion of Salt Lake City and the questionable meat of South Dakota to feed me (no pun intended) the world's easiest material? Well...if you know me at all, you know I have an opinion about anything and everything, and I'll continue to express that here, likely on a weekly basis. As I sit now watching CNN, I can already see that Hillary Clinton's post-campaign bouffant she calls a hairstyle may be a key topic. Or perhaps I'll delve into the new porno, "Nailin' Paylin," whose lead star described herself as a "mattress actress." Come on now, that's just clever.

Until then, thanks for reading - and stick with me!

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Goin' Back to Cali, Days 8 & 9 - Carson, CA

Home with Mommy - dreading the last 400 miles from LA to San Francisco...sigh. Stalling at my sister's, eating bbq and cake.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Goin' Back to Cali, Day 7 - Henderson, NV

Taking the day off, enjoying a relaxing stay in Henderson (complete with brisket and matzo ball soup). Yum.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Goin' Back to Cali, Day 6 - Henderson, NV


Brad told me we were driving 530 miles today - but he can't read his own writing. So when I found it odd that we didn't appear to be near our destination, yet my driving shift was supposed to be nearing its end, he showed me his directional notes (because Hertz is too lame to have provided us with a navigation system to DRIVE ACROSS THE COUNTRY) - and yeah, his notes said 570. I cannot tell you how much farther 40 miles seemed right then - it was sort of a low point.

But now we are in Henderson with Brad's parents, just outside of Vegas. We are positively thrilled to be somewhere familiar and very close to California for two nights!

Entering the state of Nevada was a somewhat unusual process. There's a mandatory checkpoint at the Hoover Dam, and we were ready for a thorough question-and-answer session: Where are you folks coming from? Where are you heading? How long have you been traveling? You know, some normal questions that might actually be useful information for government security to ask before allowing a vehicle to cross into one of the nation's highest security regions. Instead, I pulled up to a stop sign, rolled down my window just because it seemed like the right thing to do...and the government official, standing about 7 feet from the car, gave us a cursory glance and waved us through.

WHAT?

That's our nation's sad attempt at security? I mean, at least humor me and ask if we packed the bags in the car ourselves.

Okay, time out for a second. I just looked up at the news, and apparently, the Colorado Center for the Blind is teaching blind teenagers how to drive. Because, you know, teenagers are such good drivers with their full sight available to them.

God help Darwin.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Goin' Back to Cali, Day 5 - Albuquerque, NM


(At a Texas gas station, Moby decided he wanted to drive - no, seriously - we didn't put him in that seat.)

Today, as we drove further across Oklahoma into and through Texas, something strange stood out (aside from what was, at least until very recently, the largest cross in the western hemisphere - an honor you really should just let a city have without going after it, no?). Gas prices were below $3/gallon for the first time I can remember seeing in...well, in a very long time. And as we passed sign after sign at stations displaying prices as low as $2.85, it hit me that this just isn't fair. It's not unfair because in California, we pay more than just about everyone else in the country for gas - no, I get that. It's unfair because Texas gave birth to the man who led us into this oil crisis in the first place, and yet in his home state, they pay less than the rest of us! Frankly (and my apologies to the Texas natives out there), I think Texans should have to pay $6/gallon until they properly apologize for the atrocity known as our president.

Meanwhile, what has happened to the 2008 presidential election - which, thanks partly to the aforementioned, has shaped up to be one of the most impactful in our nation's history? Specifically, what the hell is the McCain campaign doing? I don't even say that from a partisan point of view. Seriously, I'm going to take a step back and be as unbiased as I possibly am capable of, and say his entire campaign staff needs to be fired. From the folks "leaking" to the press that their new strategy is to turn the page on the economy and focus on Obama's character...to whomever is giving Sarah Palin a microphone at rallies; some heads need to roll.

First of all, someone needs to get Palin up to speed on the actual strategy of the campaign (which again, I realize, is pretty much impossible to identify at this point). Last Friday, she was talking the big talk about swooping down on Michigan for more campaigning when she was politely informed that the McCain campaign had decided to cease efforts there. That was just days after she agreed with Obama's sentiment about launching cross-border attacks into Pakistan from Afghanistan - something McCain has mocked repeatedly. (In their father-daughter interview with Katie Couric, McCain did his best to clean up this most recent Palin gaffe.) Earlier this week, Palin suggested that she'd really like to revisit the Reverend Wright controversy, despite the fact that McCain himself has declared it "off-limits." At least she got the go-ahead to revive the months-old, laid-to-rest William Ayers connection.

Oh, for the love of God, someone get this woman a newspaper so that she can join the rest of us on today's date.

So while McCain and his cohorts are condoning (by not responding to) shouts from crowds at rallies that Obama is a "terrorist" and they should "kill him," McCain himself is simultaneously issuing statements that he doesn't support such "inappropriate rhetoric." But let's make something very clear - McCain doesn't support these statements simply by not making them himself - but he is happy to have others do the talking for him.

Look, I obviously am a huge Obama supporter. But I'm making simple and fair observations here. Little quips like, "That one!" are meaningless to me, hardly rooted in racism and simply indicative of McCain's grumpy old (losing) man nature. But it's vicious lies, and irresponsible and dangerous mischaracterizations that fuel negativity and hatred in this country, that make me shake my head at the botched McCain campaign. It doesn't even seem that McCain WANTS the campaign to go there, since he could easily have taken it down that road in last night's debate, and really didn't. So I just wish he'd show some of the backbone he is careful to remind the nation he has as a Vietnam Veteran and former POW, and substantively denounce the despicable actions of his camp.

Until the next debate...

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Goin' Back to Cali, Day 4 - Oklahoma City, OK


I didn't know what to expect from Oklahoma City. If we weren't driving through and staying the night, I'd surely have forgotten the city even existed. I don't say that just to be mean - it's true. So I decided to really examine the city and highlight what I've learned:

1) Carrie Underwood hails from Checotah, OK.
2) Troy Aikman is from somewhere nearby.
3) Church is really, really important.
4) But yet, the adult superstore is bigger here than I've noticed since being in South Dakota. (What is it with the traditionally Native American states?!)
5) Furthermore, they like to gamble a lot.
6) Church + XXX + Gambling = "You call it abortion, we call it murder."
7) University of Oklahoma is home to more National Merit Scholars than any other school in the country. (Take that, Harvard. I'm kidding, we all know this claim isn't even remotely true.)
8) P.F. Chang's has very good food.
9) P.F. Chang's has extraordinary service.
10) Oklahoma City is messing with my mind.

Now, on to more important things.

Why is John McCain attempting jokes during a debate that many believe to be critical to his ailing campaign? Has no one told him he's not funny? Seriously, if Brad were running for president, and was up on stage in front of millions of viewers making bad jokes that no one understood, I would tell him. It's time for Cindy to come clean and tell her husband he is old and awkward and no one gets it. She might also remind him that he's ruining her chances of moving into an eighth house and getting more camera time to show off her latest Botox treatment.

In fact, let's altogether scrap the third debate between the senators in favor of Michelle vs. Cindy. Did you see the icy exchange between those two on stage post-debate? Yikes. This is where the real story lies. Maybe this is what Palin meant by "putting on our heels and taking off the gloves." Or whatever she said.

Tomorrow, it's a new time zone - and hopefully, new food options.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Goin' Back to Cali, Day 3 - Memphis, TN


I have a question for you.

Why do you need fireworks year-round?

On the way from Asheville to Memphis, we passed numerous fireworks superstores. No, not the little stands that go up in June and come down in July. I mean big stores that specialize in fireworks. But I can only assume since they remain open that they get a steady stream of business.

So I ask again...why?

Here are some scenarios under which I might suggest setting them off:

1) The Dow hits 10000 again.
2) After all that church-going, Jesus actually shows up at your house.
3) Inauguration Day - like, no matter who wins, it's a celebration of sorts, right?
4) "My kid made the honor roll at Memphis Middle School."
5) It's just a fun way to light a cigarette in tobacco country.

But I digress.

When we arrived at our hotel in Memphis, we were greeted with typically friendly, southern hospitality - and a suited-for-a-country-song story about the hotel registrar's dog:

Me - "Checking in, last name Ramey, R-a-m-e-y."
Hotel Dude - "Very good, here you are."
Me - "And I have a dog as well, I'm not sure if you have that there..."
Hotel Dude - "Of course, no problem, ma'am. What kinda dog you have?"
Me - "Oh, he's a mix. Maybe Lab and Akita, could be some Chow..."
Hotel Dude - "Oh wow, that is great! Where'd you get him?"
Me - "The shelter."
Hotel Dude - "That's the best. My sister got both of her dogs that way. I got a dog, too..."

And here comes the country song, translated directly from the story that followed from him:

"Brother found my dog in a dumpster,
Left out behind a McDonald's.
Got my dog outta the dumpster,
Gave him to me did Ronald.
My dog had been run over by a car,
And had a messed up leg.
Me and my brother drove far
To the hospital for Dr. Craig.
Now my dog walks on three,
Instead of the usual four.
But you know, I love him so much...
Maybe even a little bit more."

What do you say to that?

We finished the night off with some excellent Memphis barbecue . And tomorrow, it's on to Oklahoma City. Many thanks to anyone in advance who can send me some thoughts on what could possibly be interesting about this destination. (No points for college football or basketball, since we will not be able to see either.)

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Goin' Back to Cali, Day 2 - Asheville, NC


Ah, back on the road - that old, familiar feeling returns so quickly. Driving a few hundred miles every day, crossing our fingers for a decent food stop, checking into a new hotel every night, and unpacking and repacking the car...oh, it's the only way to travel.

For the route back, we're only hitting "major" cities since there are no extended stays at national parks or other points of interest, and the South scares me too much to veer far off the beaten path. So far, things are going well - albeit some strange encounters and experiences at last night's Sheraton.

If any of you ever travel with your dog, you know that some hotels provide you with fun doggy packages upon check-in. Usually, we're talking anything as small as a couple of treats to make the welcome more pleasant; though Kimpton Group hotels provide toys and treats and all sorts of fancery for their "VIP" guests (these are the canines). W Hotels will even make sure your dog has his own bed, and walk him upon request.

Sheraton is a Westin hotel like the W, but the lines of distinction are pretty clear - particularly when it comes to dogs. Last night, upon check-in, I had to fill out and sign some forms that promised Moby wouldn't pee on the walls, poop on the floor or bark all night. After doing that, the woman helping me proudly reached behind her into a cabinet, and pulled out what she called, "a special package for our VIPs." Oh yay, fun - a cute little bag - I bet it's stuffed with some goodness Moby will enjoy.

Fast forward 10 minutes. Brad, opening the bag, says to Moby, "Let's see what we have!" (Yes, it's normal to talk to your dog.) And after rustling through some tissue paper, he pulled out...a surgical glove. Pause for confusion. Then he reached back into the bag and pulled out...a second surgical glove. He removed the tissue paper and shook the bag. Out fell...a paper dog tag.

Now, let's review just so that I can make sure you get this straight. The Sheraton provided us with surgical gloves, apparently to give Moby a proctology exam; and then a paper dog tag that would smudge and tear within 24 hours. And they put it in a cute bag, as if that would somehow disguise the super shitty "gift." (Although I have to admit, I have done this before - gotten a really cute and oddly expensive bag at the stationery store for a gift I knew just wasn't that great - hoping the bag would distract the recipient, and at least look good to others who may never know what's actually inside.) But come on, surgical gloves?!?

No, seriously - I have to presume this was their attempt at a poop bag. Brad and I discussed, and it's all we can come up with. You put on the gloves, your dog poops, and you pick it up. Now, what you do with the gloves at that point is where things get fuzzy for me. Do you try to slip one glove off and around the poop, like a bag of sorts? How do you avoid getting poop on your hands? Do you walk around holding it until you find a trash can? There are just far too many things wrong with this method.

Suffice it to say, we threw away the welcome package - thanks, but no thanks. And moments later, the party next door started.

You know the sound of a bunch of girls standing in a circle dancing, with a different girl going into the center of the circle and doing some sort of bootylicious move that elicits high pitched squeals and "Woooos!" That's what was happening in the room next to ours - until 1:00 in the morning - when we were ready for bed and had the hotel shut down Total Request Live.

It was actually a great night's sleep, until we woke up to learn that the elevator wasn't working - and we were on the 7th floor. Not a huge deal if you don't have enough luggage to, oh, last you for two months. Yeah.

But after all was said and done, we made it out of Richmond safely - which was all I really wanted. And to turn that frown upside down, we discovered a chicken and biscuits chain called "Bojangles" that truly may have been some of the best fast food eating I've ever had. I'd Yelp it if I didn't think that was just a little bit weird, and might seriously call into question my other reviews.

And now, here we are in Asheville. No surgical gloves, no Dance Dance Revolution (DDR) and we're housed on the first floor.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Goin' Back to Cali, Day 1 - Richmond, VA


It's been a few days since my last real post, so there's lots to cover here.

First, let me just say that I am so glad Mary J. Blige was once an alcoholic drug abuser with serious man problems who has since found love and the lord, because that really has helped her write and perform some great songs. Please don't lose all the drama, Mary. We need some of it for the music.

On a less pleasant note, the hot water our NYC building didn't have beginning on Thursday never returned. Thank God for Exhale Spa, so that I could actually take a hot shower yesterday. I suppose the timing of our departure couldn't have been better. I mean, it only could have been better if our landlords had actually informed us they expected us to be out by 11:00 this morning, and the housekeeper was coming at 12:00, and new tenants were moving in at 2:00. But yeah, other than that, our timing couldn't have been better.

All of the Manhattan stars aligned before our departure, creating the perfect storm of lunacy. In addition to not having any hot water in our building for the past couple of days (which led to the notice posted on the door being vandalized by angry tenants), we met an awesome crazy man on our way to dinner last night. I made the mistake of too openly admiring his dog:

Me - "He's so cute!"
Crazy Man - "What about the dog?"

Um, whoa.

The man went on to spend 30 minutes talking to us about his desire to cross-breed more Labs with Great Danes; his intent to work at Google so that he could take his dog to work (I didn't have the heart to tell him that's a Bay Area thing only); the great book he was working on that "could be bigger than Harry Potter," and enlighten us about the "PGA" - that's "Pretty Girl Alert" - that he makes use of to try to meet women. (I, by the way, am proud to say I set off his PGA.) He raved about chamber music and ballroom dancing, and informed us he runs up to 140th and Riverside Dr. every morning to swim 2 miles at 6:30 a.m. That extreme physical activity, um, was not apparent. But kudos to him. A Cal alum, he started to disparage Stanford alums as "pretentious jerks." It was awkward when he discovered we're both pretentious jerks.

Ah, I'm going to miss these crazies.

But alas, we made it out of New York alive - shitty American SUV and all. No, seriously, I can't believe people buy American cars. We drove out here in a Subaru Tribeca. It was awesome. It appeared too small to accommodate us and all of our stuff, but true to Japan, it was small and amazingly efficient. Now, we're tooling around in a Chevy Trailblazer. And true to America, it's large and totally inefficient. We could hardly figure out how to cram everything in the vast interior of wasted space, and after poor Moby was clobbered by a suitcase and a duffle bag, we pulled over 3 minutes into the drive to fix it - then pulled over 5 minutes later to rearrange entirely, after heading the wrong way on the Hudson Pkwy. Honestly, when the rental car company requested options for this vehicle, they sprung for a steering wheel and tires. That's it. On a positive note, the lack of ammenities is a great theft deterrent, since the car already looks like it's been stripped.

New York now seems like a long time ago, since we are now officially in the South. How do I know? We stopped at one of MANY Chick-fil-A restaurants (thankfully, it's not Sunday), a drink option was sweet tea, and the woman I ordered it all from called me "Baby" and "Boo Boo."

God bless this place.

Friday, October 3, 2008

Last Night

I know I said I'd post today, but my procrastinated packing has made that...not true. But don't lose faith and please come back!

And for those who are wondering...

Yes, I thought Sarah Palin performed better than expected, given her Miss Teen South Carolina performances of late; but she still didn't answer the questions, just stuck to the five talking points she'd been taught...and still is woefully unqualified for the job.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Stay Tuned

Late night at Mary J. and catching up on a replay of the debate. Tomorrow, expect to hear about all of this.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

The Sign

"To All Tenants:

Please be aware that on Thursday, October 2, there will be no hot water for the entire building due to necessary boiler maintenance. We apologize for the inconvenience."

Really? I'd say an inconvenience would be no hot water for, oh, 4 hours. This is more like a day for which I'd like a refund.

Not cool.