It’s really nice out, maybe the second or third sunny day in what seemed like a month of rain. Also, I just got paid. And now I want a bicycle. And yes, I’ve wanted a bicycle for awhile, specifically one with a holder for my Sigg water bottle and a cup rest for my coffee. And a lot of bikes in Santa Rosa are on sale now… really really cute ones (apparently these are called cruisers) that will make me feel like a Zooey Deschanel character or extra in a French film (as it is imperative I get a bicycle with a basket that can hold both baguettes and bottles of wine). But I’m not going to be here for that much longer and it might be in my best interest to get a bicycle that would work in a city with hills or possibly an off-road environment in case I get invited to do sporty things. Of course, if I have to climb a hill to get my espresso, I’ll walk or take my damn car.
But gas is more than $4 a gallon and doesn’t seem to be going down anytime soon, so maybe a bike for errands IS a good investment.
Update: I got the bike. It’s really cute. My helmet is awesome.
This Danzig tweet above is based on a true story. My pal Brendan, from @Filmdrunk’s podcast, knows Justin, the guy that runs @ShitMyDadSays, and he lives next to Danzig in Los Feliz. Here’s the story in chat form:
Here’s a picture of said bricks.
Here’s Danzig washing his Jaguar (Google Street View).
I used to walk Oliver past Danzig’s house every damn day. It’s such a shit hole.
This Week Is Filled With White People Problems And It's Only Wednesday
1. Glee was a rerun and I kind of planned my Tuesday around the show and it was ruined. And then I tried to watch Portlandia, but nothing new is On Demand since the baseball episode and for whatever reason I don’t have IFC and this sucks. Also, I don’t have BBC America, so I have to download new episodes of Being Human from Amazon and I don’t want to watch them on my computer. I want to watch them on my TV. Also, they cost $3.99.
2. The gym was crowded and smelly on Monday. It took me 10 minutes to get a treadmill and then it took me 20 minutes to get one whose belt wasn’t sticking. My Pandora stations were playing nothing but crap and I didn’t even get a good Lionel Ritchie song until the end of my run, which was only 5 miles. And I know I have to go today but I don’t have time. But if I don’t I’ll get antsy.
3. Also, apparently my new yoga pants are too thick because I get overheated when I run, which also forces me to only do 5 miles and that’s bullshit. I’m up to 6 miles without a problem and I’d like to stay there.
4. I still need to find 4 more Sonoma-based unoaked chardonnays for a piece I’m writing. I did find a fantastic one yesterday, but having 2 or 3 does not an article make.
5. I’m out of organic spinach and tomatoes.
6. I’m also out of Kombucha.
7. And the water in my Sigg bottle isn’t from the Brita and it tastes weird.
Victor of Aveyron (also The Wild Boy of Aveyron) was a feral child who apparently lived his entire childhood naked and alone in the woods before being found wandering the woods near Saint-Sernin-sur-Rance, France, in 1797. He was captured, but soon escaped, after being displayed in…
Old time feral children are my favorite. I get into Wikipedia holes reading about them for hours and hours.
me:not really. i just think you know what you want to do moreso than i do.
17-year-old me:what do i do?
me:you're kind of a journalist and kind of a web producer?
17-year-old me:what's a web producer?
me:you make web pages.
17-year-old me:like on AOL?
17-year-old me:do i get into carleton?
17-year-old me:iowa? ugh.
me:iowa sucks, but the people are really great... of course, if you talk to 16-year-old us any time soon, tell her to push history and writing and being a democrat in a place like brookfield in her college aps. also: take ap american history. and an art class. art's fun. and surprisingly useful.
17-year-old me:it's fluffy.
me:christ, you're uptight.
17-year-old me:what do i major in?
17-year-old me:really? weird. anthropology maybe, but american studies? i don't know...
me:it's like anthropology but examines american culture. a lot less racist and not born out of imperialism. it's super fascinating. you'll love it.
17-year-old me:will you buy me some alcohol?
me:no. go smoke pot while it's still fun.
17-year-old me:you don't do that anymore?
me:nope. panic attacks.
17-year-old me:what the hell are those?
me:you'll find out. they're not fun. but remember: you're not dying.
17-year-old me:that sounds fucked up.
17-year-old me:so not a doctor? i kind of figured... and not an environmental lawyer?
me:nope. you'll hate the paperwork. i edited a legal site in new york and saved us a lot of money by realizing it's a terrible job.
17-year-old me:editing's fun.
me:it gets even more entertaining when you know what you're doing.
17-year-old me:i know what i'm doing.
me:no, not really.
17-year-old me:where did you go to grad school?
me:i haven't yet.
17-year-old me:you're a loser.
me:that's probably why i'm talking to you right now.
17-year-old me:do you still run?
me:i started again, but i like hiking better.
17-year-old me:how far?
me:5 miles, sometimes 6.
17-year-old me:that's not bad for an old person. hiking? where do you live?
me:i'm not that old. california.
17-year-old me:aren't you afraid of earthquakes?
me:no. they're kind of rad. and you don't have to deal with snow and cold and the sadness.
17-year-old me:are you married?
me:a dog. a yellow lab-beagle. you'll really like him.
17-year-old me:how much longer does sailor have?
me:awhile, but don't take him for granted. and write down all the cool shit he does so you don't forget. oh, here's some news: david just had a baby.
17-year-old me:on purpose?
me:yup. it's the future, remember?
17-year-old me:i think you should buy me peach schnapps. we're going to see matthew sweet later.
me:oh wow, i forgot about the schnapps thing. gross. actually that concert is awesome. hey, does this make me look fat?
17-year-old me:no. does this make me look fat?
me:nope. ok kid, i'll check in with you later. enjoy being hopeful.
17-year-old me:this is hopeful? dammit.
me:sorry. also: you *DO* have ADD and depression. you should fix that.
17-year-old me:running fixes that.
17-year-old me:you're making me sad.
me:sorry. but thanks for reminding me that i'm smarter than you and you're kind of a twit.
there’s a new show i’ve been watching. well, new to me. it’s called being human. i can only watch the bbc version because 1. it’s better and 2. that irish vampire is really good-looking. but season 3 isn’t on demand. this is ruining my evenings. RUINING THEM.
Is there an emoticon for GAWD I WANT TO VOMIT?
I need one for all of the times that someone posts how much they love their honey bunny or (almost worse) <3 <3 <3.
Please help me.
Yeah, sorry buddy, I’m not an emoticon user (unless it’s required by work). Why don’t you just tell them to keep their ick indoors, in a dark room, where it doesn’t offend others? Or block them. Or look away.
You could go Cathy and give them a classic ACK! Or better yet, create an image of Ackbar and Jeff from Life in Hell. It’s simple, passive aggressive and takes a beat to get the reference. Done!
the rumors of my incarceration have been greatly exaggerated
so this actually happened to me today:
first, the back story: i’m working on a site launch while i write freelance and search for a full-time gig after may or so… as well as a new place to live (city AND apartment). so i’m under a lot of stress. instead of eating or drinking it away, i’ve decided to try running again. (i used to be a fierce runner.) so far, it’s working. unfortunately it got really cold in northern california, so i joined a gym for a few months. this also allows me to run during non-daylight hours.
so, anyway, today i went to the gym during my lunch break. my iphone had been acting weird already — dialed my friend in chicago, sent me to the sf examiner, dialed the gym, sent me to the ny times — and that was just while i was walking or sitting in my car, looking for my i.d.
so i get to the gym and figure i should “check in” on facebook and possibly get some free swag. i tried, but it didn’t work. when i tried again, 24 hour fitness was nowhere to be seen. but you know what was? the sonoma county jail. so i checked in there. i mean, COME ON. that’s really weird and really funny. also, who would check into jail on facebook? who? obviously *someone* because it’s listed, but that’s crazy messed up and totally hilarious (albeit creepy). side note: i will now check in there on foursquare every time i pass it so i can eventually become the mayor of the jail. i’m already mayor of a number of parks here and that’s 3 steps from king of the jungle… mayor of a jail is close to mayor mayor.
so then i hit the treadmill. i watch countless minutes of awesome charlie sheen coverage. i realize i should mention on my post that i need $5,000, just to be super duper funny. (obviously i do, but mostly for moving costs or to pay off the rest of my car… not sonoma county jail issues.)
minutes later my aunt asks what’s going on, but i’m running and can’t really type back. then my friend calls. he thinks i’m in jail too. i tell him i’m high on charlie sheen and have tiger blood. he misses the joke and thinks something is really wrong and/or i got hacked. at this point i’m on a pretty good runner’s high (3 miles! in a row!) so it takes awhile for him to realize i’m not actually behind bars. then another friend asks to see the mugshot (albeit in the form of a christmas card). i decide to let it slide, at least until i’m not running and texting or at the very least, until i have a real keyboard at my fingertips. (note to self: make a keyboard treadmill.)
so by the time i got home (after 6 miles! 6!), 3 people in my life may honestly have thought i went to jail. i ignored it and went back to work. then as i relegated this story to my mom she pointed out that many not “get” my “sense of humor” and think something is seriously wrong. apparently she would also think i was actually in jail if she saw that… (REALLY???) so i printed a retraction, which makes me sad because this proves that i’m no longer WINNING like charlie sheen. BUT I STILL HAVE TIGER BLOOD AND AM A WARLOCK.
also, it’s very sweet people care about my whereabouts. but since 90 percent of what i post is facetious, i hope everyone knows that any kind of non starbucks / whole foods / hiking* / arbitrary white person place is a joke.
*i do check into parks when i go hiking if only because i am by myself and could get injured or mauled or at the very least abducted and sold on the middle aged white woman slave market.
but thank you for caring about me, friends and family. i promise i’m not in jail. and i’m very much not busted for carrying a suitcase of pure, quality charlie sheen — mostly because the word on the street is that it would make my brain explode.