A Truly Black Friday

In Long Island, a temporary Wal-Mart employee was trampled to death in a Black Friday stampede as he opened the doors at 5 a.m. That same day, two men shot each other dead at a Palm Desert Toys R Us.

Isn't it ironic that during this time economic experts are referring to as the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression...and during this time when terrorists have descended upon Mumbai, India in a crusade to kill mostly American and British tourists...and during this time when Bangkok area airports are shut down and in danger of losing billions of dollars due to unruly anti-government protesters....that people are killing each other in a quest for material bullshit? Are people really so blind to the world around them that they can't even see the dying person they're stepping on and over to get to the plasma TV aisle?

Our society is sick. People don't even know exactly what they're lining up outside of these stores for. They just know there is stuff inside that may cost less than it did yesterday - and they've decided they need it right now. Never mind the fact that not once in the history of supply-and-demand have retailers ceased to sell things to people who are willing to buy them. "Get it while it lasts!" Well, idiots, "while it lasts" is "as long as you're willing to pay for it."

Meanwhile, these same people sit down at elaborate Thanksgiving Day dinners with their families, going through the motions of the holiday with their yada-yada-thanks. They bow their heads and they pray...right before they line up outside of Best Buy.

Brad and I spent Thanksgiving with my mom, sister and niece. I went out the next day with my mom, as is tradition for me...at 3:00 in the afternoon. And I got some great deals no one was harmed for. On Saturday, when Brad and I went TV shopping, there were plenty for sale. Sure, some of the best deals were sold out - but guess what? There are more on the way. Because in America, there's ALWAYS more to be had.

It will be interesting to see if these sales carry on next year in their current form. Retailers with a conscience may choose to discontinue the practice. But more likely, they will make feeble attempts to safeguard themselves against this sort of bad press, still feeding the frenzy of old-fashioned holiday greed.

Merry Christmas.

Economic Woes

As the Dow falls, the unemploy-ment rate rises, and the housing bubble bursts, even the most optimistic are now throwing in the towel and declaring the recession we already knew we were in. Let's face it - compared to this, 2001 was a party. So as the economy fizzles...how are the wealthy coping?

Times are tough for them, too.

On Friday, I received a special email from Heidi Says, a women's designer boutique in Pacific Heights that caters to the fashion-whipped and Amex-equipped. In short, this email thanked me for my patronage, letting me know how rewarding it is for them to "play a part in [my] quest to be well-dressed." My God, I feel like together, we've been curing cancer. But see, Heidi recognizes that current times are trying. Hubby may not be getting that big bonus this year. How can one possibly continue to keep up old habits?

Heidi understands. And that's why Heidi is now not only willing to match prices on their items I find elsewhere (a, by the way, totally basic retail courtesy) - they may even grant me a discount to buy it from them instead! AND (drumroll please), if I make a purchase of $400 or more between now and December 24th, they will grant me a $100 savings. $100! That's 25% off or less! Wow. So what they're telling me is that during these hard times, they are joining the legions of retailers who have, for years, held holiday sales in the name of Black Friday. I'm speechless.

It doesn't stop there. Signs of the wealthy's suffering are hitting even closer to home. When out for a walk with Brad and Moby the other night, I noticed that one of the neighborhood houses already had Christmas lights up - gross! When I called this to Brad's attention, he informed me of a deal the Christmas light installers are extending to the community.

Time out: Yes - there are companies that hang your Christmas lights for you, except that they call it an "installation" so that they can charge you a lot of money for an otherwise simple job for Dad.

Apparently, if you have your installation done during the month of November, they will grant you a significant discount. Now, this is quite a pickle for the wealthy. On the one hand, their portfolios are dwindling and they could really use the help. On the other hand, lights up before December? Now everyone is pointing at you as the tacky people who don't respect Thanksgiving.

It's unclear how the wealthy are going to weather the storm. But the generous boutique sales and premature decorating are early signs of the apocalpyse. I'm bracing for the worst.

Fresh Squeezed O.J.

READER ADVISORY: My apologies for the below to any of my USC alum friends (yes, I admit it - I have some).

I actually used to want to go to school there.

On Saturday, Brad and I went to the Stanford vs. USC football game with our friends Ryan and Xin-Hua. For those who have been living under a collegiate sports rock, Stanford hasn't had a good football team since...well, I'd say really since the 1992-1993 team we fielded my freshman year. Sure, there was a Rose Bowl bid in 2000, but it was kind of a charity case. In any case, we're still not good. But we're closer to good than we've been in years, thanks to Jim Harbaugh and no thanks to Buddy Teevens and Walt Harris. And perhaps more important, we beat USC last year at the Colisseum, 24-23, snapping their 35-game win streak at home. Anyone who cares even a little bit about college sports knows that USC ranks right up there with the most hated teams everyone wants to see cry, along with Duke and Notre Dame. So we wouldn't dare miss even the most remote opportunity to see history repeat itself - which it totally did not, by the way - despite a nice F-You sequence at the end of the game.

Suffice it to say, Palo Alto's IQ dropped precipitously yesterday when all of the Trojan fans descended onto the Stanford campus. One particular Trojan tool sported a red polo shirt, whose popped collar (of course) revealed the word "FRAT." No, it did not indicate which brotherhood he was with. It would have been much like me wearing a tshirt that said, "WOMAN." Dumbass.

And then there were the middle-aged geniuses sitting in the row behind us who felt the need to call every play of the game, question every coaching move, and make every Captain Obvious statement possible. One gem: "They are only running the ball. They could pass as well." It is true that running and passing are the only two ways I know of for a football team to score, but I appreciate them reminding us all of that fact.

Finally, what the hell is wrong with USC's female fans? What is with the ho-tastic outfits, donned by those of all ages - including the 50-something in the plaid, thigh-high miniskirt? Was she an ex-Song Girl? Gross.

Oh well, at least we'll always have this guy. And they'll always have THAT guy.

"Ho"lloween

When did Halloween become the day of the year that females of ALL ages transform themselves into total sluts? When did nurses and policewomen become "naughty?" And when did '80s pop star turn from lace gloves with rubber bracelets and wide belts into booty shorts and teeny tank tops? I think it says it all that I recently couldn't tell the difference between a Halloween costume store window display and a XXX shop.

No, seriously, I don't even know what these chicks are dressed as these days. As Brad and I walked around on Halloween night, we spotted teenagers exposing more skin than a Maxim magazine cover, and some adult women who just looked slutty. Of course, then the reasonable question becomes whether or not that person is in costume or just skanky. It really can go either way.

Little girls have always enjoyed dressing up like they're older than they are. But when did little girls pretending to be women become little girls pretending to be women who are dressed like little girls? Case in point: Rainbow Brite adult costume. I'm not sure how many people can identify this as Rainbow Brite - but we can all identify this as "ho"riffic.

Look, I love a costume that makes me look more pretty than scary. But the old stand-by "racy" costumes of playboy bunny and french maid are now just downright prudent. For God's sake, I shudder to think what today's version of the genie costume looks like. But I'm sure she's wearing daisy dukes (and by the way, this girl's parents must be really proud).

Meanwhile, we live in a society obsessed with "family values." Here's a family value for you: don't let your daughter leave the house looking like she just slid off the pole under the auspice of it being Halloween.

Until next year...Tricks and Treats.

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.

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.

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!

Punk'd?

Some days, I know exactly what I'm going to blog about. For example, the "Break-ing My Silence" post that's since gotten a lot of feedback (thanks!) actually came to me in the middle of the night and prevented me from sleeping. (Yeah, I thought I just hated the conservative right for their ideas - now I can also blame them for my insomnia.) And the one way back about the pantless man in Minnesota? Well, it goes without saying it was pretty clear to me after that incident what I'd be writing about the next day.

Today, I wasn't so sure. It was just a regular day - got up "early," took Moby to daycare, went to a morning yoga class, had some breakfast and read a magazine, spent a while in a bookstore, watched a little Oprah, and wrapped that all up with dinner in Chelsea with a friend of Brad's from high school. It was all lovely, but nothing really lent itself to storytelling.

And then, as I sat with my laptop open, the news delivered a gift to me like an early Christmas.

Following up on Hurricane Ike's devastation, Eyewitness News interviewed some victims in Galveston, Texas. And of course, you expect sobbing and stories of loss and all of the things that drive you to donate to the Red Cross (which of course is a good thing to do). But...well, I guess things really are different in Texas.

As a doberman paced back and forth on the porch of the bed and breakfast in the backdrop, the woman they interviewed pointed to her sign that read, "Trespassers will be SHOT." See, I guess there's a looting problem post-hurricane, as you might expect. And rather than leave their homes and/or businesses in the wake of raw sewage, lacking food and running water, non-existent electricity and power, and roaming alligators (no joke), property owners are standing tall and protecting what's theirs - by shooting at people.

"It's my constitutional right," said the Bed and Breakfast manager. "I'm a licensed gun owner - it's registered." It seems no one explained to Annie Oakley that having a registered firearm doesn't open the door for manslaughter.

A mulleted man told reporters that "some nice, unnamed police officers" had actually provided him with bullets for his guns (yes, plural), and instructed him to "shoot if anyone approached."

Okey-dokey Annie, I stand corrected.

And so might I just take a step back and ask...What the hell is happening to our country?

Police officers, who mind you, are supposed to be the people's protectors, are advising citizens to kill each other; the economy is officially imploding, with leading banks and insurers gone belly-up; O.J. Simpson is on trial - AGAIN; and Sarah Palin is still on the GOP presidential ticket.

Are we being punk'd?

Ashton, you got us good this time.