Seriously? Aw, c'mon.

Chapter 1. Other People's Pastimes

I am not a big fan of the grown-men-skateboarding-recreationally-in-the-middle-of-city-streets phenomenon that's sweeping San Francisco. This could be because I'm not cool or it could be because I'm a rational human being/sometime motorist who risks offing some dude every time I drive through the neighborhood.

On my way home, I passed the guys who apparently skate in the middle of Cole Street every day at 5:05pm. I don't know if they just happen to start five minute before I walk by every day, or whether they actually do this most of the day. I'm guessing that the latter is more likely. Leaving them to their shenannigans, I crossed over the invisible neighborhood boundary into what I think of as my own neighborhood--generally free from the crazy antics of Haight Street. Imagine my surprise, therefore, when I turned onto the quiet, two-block street that marks the homestretch to chez moi, only to see a twenty-something guy on the sidewalk opposite me remove his pants. When guys on the street remove their pants, it's best to keep walking, and so I did. But seconds later I heard the sound of a skateboard behind me. I turned and, sure enough, there was the same guy skating down the middle of the road. Only now wearing shorts. Because, apparently, they're better to skate in. So much so, that it's worth taking your pants off in the middle of the street in broad daylight to make the change.


Chapter 2. My pastime

After many years of not owning a television (because I am a television junkie and can not be trusted to read books ever again if I were to have a TV), I discovered Hulu (wait. I can watch television shows for free and still not buy a television? Bring. It. On.)and was sucked immediately into the television vortex. Every so often, I would come across a program that was available only through a higher version of FlashPlayer than I have. Typically, I just get over it and move on to something else. Although, in the case when I could access all of season one of "The Riches," become totally, irrevocably addicted to it, and then discover that season two was not supported by my software um....let's just say that was a rough night. Still. There's always Netflix.

In the last few days, I merrily watched a couple of old Alfred Hitchcock movies and the most recent episodes of "30 Rock" and "The Office." All was well. Last night, I returned to a half-viewed movie to watch the end and was confronted with the "Download a higher version of the software" message. What? But I was just watching this thing with no trouble. I tried some other previously viewed things. No dice. Turns out that overnight they've revamped the WHOLE SITE to play only on software I don't have and, no, thanks for asking though, I can't download it because my computer is too old. Noooooo! So, now I must buy a new computer. In order to watch free television.

There seems to be a flaw somewhere in that plan. If I could only figure out what it is....

Cop out

I haven't written anything here in days and days. I am acutely aware of it and yet can think of nothing compelling to say. I hate that. So welcome to the What I've Been Doing Instead of Writing cop out.


I watched these people leap about in a highly impressive fashion; I heard this woman read about her life and even though I've known her since I was a little girl, I didn't know any of that stuff; I listened to this man do amazing things with a cello; I watched this play and was honored to be sitting next to the playwright as he made some notes for more changes; I watched this movie (later referred to by a friend who was not intending to make a joke as "Dude, I Love You, Bro") and laughed and laughed; I saw this movie and cried; and I listened to these guys play like mad.

It's been good, I promise.
And you? How've you been?

Daylight savings

Last week we "sprang forward" and turned all of our clocks ahead. But secretly? I'm turning the clock back, baby. I have just purchased a skin care system (that's what they call it when it's more than one substance that you slap on your face. They don't call it "a bunch of stuff" they call it "a system") from the Time Defiance line. Because, well, a close scrutiny in the mirror suggests that it is indeed the moment to begin defying time. Actually, it suggests that I ought to have started defying time two years ago, but alas. These moisturizers are formidable. And brown. I've never used a brown face cream before and am certain it is a sign of seriousness and scientific advancement. If I use everything according to the directions, I figure that I ought to look like an infant by May. I haven't actually read the directions yet, mind you, but I'm hoping that part of the system is to look fiercely into the mirror (without scowling, obviously. Scowling causes wrinkles.) while applying moisturizer and saying three times "Time, I defy Thee!" I think that would be a nice touch.

Cell phones (again)

Sunday 1pm

The homeless guy panhandling in front of Green Apple Books has to interrupt himself from asking me for spare change because he gets a call. He pulls his phone from his pocket and walks away from me to conduct his conversation in a more private part of the sidewalk.


Sunday 10:45pm

I tell Daniel it has been a pleasure to meet his friend. "Well, did you give her your cell phone number? Oh. Wait. That's right. You don't HAVE a cell phone."


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