I'm in a very non-blog sort of mood, but I will leave you (for a while) with one thing:



Today as I was walking to the bus stop I saw a homeless man walk up to a little baby tree, pull down his pants, bend over and take a crap. What a way to start a day.

Whole Foods really is the shit. Their salad bar has everything you could ever want (nuts, eggs, tuna, turkey, et al.). It's the only place on Earth that has uncured, nitrate-free bacon. And they even have valet. Oh yeah. Luckily the only one in San Francisco is a few blocks from work...

Why is my green tea orange?



Why am I drinking green tea?



Why are weekends so short?

I went to a dinner party last night where everyone was drinking wine, listening to Marc Almond, and discussing things like the recent election and Bush's failures. I felt like I was in a strange movie. But then the girl next to me started talking to me about Food Network and I felt much better.



What was the dinner, you ask? Let me tell you...



Pureed spinach, chard and kale soup, stuffed squash and creme brulee. Anyone who knows me realizes it took all of my strength to control my gag reflex a few times, but I did, indeed, east a good portion of the vegetarian insanity.

Hospital terror threat? Oh, fantastic!

1) The thumbnails are used for scooping cocaine.

2) MJ's face, with proper care, will look exactly the same as it does now in 10 years.

Scary. I just cannot imagine what this face will look like in 10 years.

I've been taking a new shuttle route to work and the regular driver has sketched me out since my first ride. Something about drivers being too needy with conversation makes me crazy ... and a whole bunch of other things made me feel icky, too. But today sealed it. I was sitting directly behind him and glanced at his left hand. The thumbnail is about AN INCH LONG. That's crazy! I looked at the right hand, same thing, just the thumb. What is this about? Is there some medical condition that requires a person to keep their thumbnails long? What. Is. The. Deal.

I've been taking this customer training class for the past 6 weeks. It's very cheesy, with a poooooorly written book that concentrates on basic principles like "Greet" and "Help." Unfortunately, tons of people in this hospital seem to need that kind of stuff forced down their throats. Anyway, we had our graduation yesterday. Complete with slide show of awful pictures of us played to Whitney Houston's "One Moment in Time." I startedlaughing hysterically when the music came on, but no one else was. No one even giggled! What kind of people am I working with?

Weird patient names:



Aurora Miracle

Bloemhard - Blo em hard. High school must have been tough. Or busy. Whatever.

I don't understand why every time Ben leaves his god damn crappy server turns itself off. What is the problem? I turned it back on yesterday and now it seems to be off again. Egads!

I wonder if all of the anti-war protestors spent as much time urging friends and family to vote as they did yelling about a war that doesn't even exist.

TJ's travel problems are nothing compared to mine this evening. I leave work, in the rain, at about 5:40 this evening two blocks down to the MUNI station. I swipe my little card that lets me on and go down to the platform, where a large group of people had already gathered. I could tell immediately that it could be an annoying commute. When the platform is full, it tends to mean that the trains are behind. And in fact, as the stupid little sign buzzed "NN 15 Min" I knew it would be awhile before I got home.



And I don't even TAKE the N train! That was just the NEXT train to come. So I wait. And wait. And wait. Finally the first train comes, and it's completely packed to the gills. Maybe 4 people got on. Rinse and repeat for the next two trains. Finally a J comes (which is the train I take). Maybe 20 minutes has gone by so far. Oddly, it was a 2 car train, which is unusual because the J is always a 1 car (because of the platforms at street level for people to unload, but whatever). So I hop on the 2nd car, and as the doors close I overhear someone who left saying "man I could barely breath on there."



And then I notice the smell. The rank, nasty, rotten, butt-nasty shit smell. And the heat. It's hot, and smells like poop. The air conditioner isn't working, and as I look around for where I'm going to stand, I can see why it stinks. Right near the joint that connects the front from the back, spread across four seats, is feces. Poop, smeared across the seats, with a man standing there guarding them (god knows how he could stand to be right next to there). I head up to the car ahead, which is totally packed, but I manage to stand sort of in a place where I got some of the fresh air.



And this is just the beginning. As some crazy homeless person starts yelling about how it stinks, the train lurches forward into the tunnel. Only to stop about 10 seconds later. We're about 100 feet into the tunnel, the platform can be seen out the back window. And we're still stopped. For 10 minutes. There's poop on the seats and the air conditioning isn't working. Eventually, the operator comes over the intercom and tells us that "both cars can't move because the 2nd one is having an air problem. They're sending another mechanic to have a look."



THEY'RE SENDING ANOTHER MECHANIC?!?!?!!?



The thought starts to occur to us that we may have to break out of this thing if it comes to it. There's still poop smeared on the seats. The homeless man, who smells like cooked sausages, has moved up to the front somehow and has started making goat or sheep noises or something. A lady, who was completely oblvious, comes along and sits on the fecalled seats. UGH! Someone tells her to get up, she does, and then sits on the floor right in front of them. WHY?



FINALLY the train starts to move... but only for about 15 seconds. Then stops again for another few minutes. Then we're off! Buuuutt... it's not over yet. As we head through the tunnel, the operator comes on again. Both cars are going out of service. The next stop will be the last. I don't care at all because I just want to get off the poop-mobile. The train pulls up to the stop, the doors don't open. Well, actually that's not true, one-half of one door (on a train that has 4 doors) clear near the back is open. But the stairs haven't gone out. Noone seems to care though, there's poop on the seats after all.



I leap off (literally) and walk the remaining 8 blocks or so home in the rain. It's strange, because as the throng of people headed down the block from the train with the poop on the seats, there's a sense of comradery among us. Like we'd been through a war or something. We'd survived. And here we were in the rain.



I love San Francisco. I really do.



(P.S. If you happen have a parking space for rent near the Church/20th area....I swear my car doesn't have poop on it, and would love a place to stay.)

Did you know that UCLA's med school is called the David Geffen School of Medicine? David Geffen! That's hideous.

Awwwwwwww, SNAP! It came today! 24 Hours of pleasure... I know what I'm doing this weekend.

Well, last night was definitely forshadowing... I just got to work at 11. I left my house at 8:50, though. How can that be? Well, let me tell ya...



So, I took the 9 bus up to Van Ness because I've been taking that mofo of a shuttle. When the 9:15 shuttle wasn't there by 9:20, the people I was waiting with remarked, "The traffic must be a nightmare." Ten minutes later we found out the traffic lights around Market and Van Ness were out. They fled, but I was determined to get on that shuttle, so they left a package with me that I was supposed to leave with the driver. But when 9:45 hit and that shuttle was MIA, I realized this was a lost cause.



So I had to bust a bitch up to the CPMC offices in the BofA building. Sixth floor, seventh, eighth? I didn't remember so I went to all of them. I got rid of the package and went to the Van Ness subway station, planning to take the N Judah to Duboce Park and walk up to Davies to grab that shuttle, but the fucking station was closed. Flooding. It was not even raining at that point.



Then I was off to Civic Center to try to grab the Bart shuttle, but I just missed it. Like, I watched it drive away. And after waiting another 10 minutes I remembered that the Bart shuttle stops running during mid-morning. I called a co-worked and, sure enough, I had missed the last shuttle. As a homeless man walked passed me signing, "Eat a dick, eat a dick," I lowered my head and trudged down into the subway station to wait for the N (but only after mistakenly going down into BART).



I finally got to Duboce and up the hill to Davies in time to grab the 10:45 shuttle. Two hours after I left my house I was here, at work, at an office that's probably three or four miles from my apartment.



More evidence for why I should never have to leave the house when it's raining or snowing. No good comes of it!

Why didn't the piece of shit fucking Van Ness shuttle come at 5:30? What the hell, that's the last one. So now I'm back in the office using nextbus to plan my torturous bus ride home.



And why do so many people have Veteran's Day off? I don't. I didn't even have that shit off in high school. We just had ridiculous essemblies where the choir sang songs like, "Tears in Heaven." (Don't laugh, I really did have to sing that senior year. "Tears in Heaven" in four-part harmony with a middle-aged woman on piano is sad.)

Holy crap. I've been waiting around for the "big storm" to start all day. So much hype (because it's the first real rain of the season - it only rains here between November and late Spring) but it's been pretty nice so far. Well, until about a minute ago when I heard some of the loudest thunder I've ever experienced. Should be a fun one.

Why do I care about the verdict in the farcical Winona Ryder case? I don't! Not one bit... But then why am I refreshing the Yahoo! News page every few minutes?

It's a Republican nation! Say hello to all the conservative judges Bush can squeeze into the next two years. And please, God, let his reign last only two more years. Although judging by the lack of unity within the Democratic party and the absence of a national platform, who knows what will happen in 2004.

Oh my God, how is it November? What is going on?



Anyway, Halloween? Halloween in SF is so predictable. It went exactly the same as last year. We go to the Castro with a big group, get separated after 20 minutes and then go off on our own before getting bored and leaving. There is always an insane number of people swarming the closed-off streets between Church and Castro, though. Kind of fun to check out costumes. My favorite was Monica Seles, until I saw the huge meat cleaver glued onto her back and then it disturbed me.



Speaking of costumes, Ben shocked me and actually dressed up, as a raver. Totally dead on. And me? I was a lesbian. Or an anti-war protester. Whatever. Pictures soon I'm sure.

Oh, may I just say that despite months of hearing their songs on the radio, I still cannot get enough of John Mayer and Jack Johnson. I hope they're not one-hit wonders. And , btw, the Santana/Michelle Branch song is golden. Her voice sounds better on that song than I've ever heard it. So ... smooth. Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha.

I was accosted by a homeless girl last night. Picture it, I'm walking out of Safeway with two bags when I spot her. As I approach she says...



HG: Can I have some food?

TJ: Can you have some food?!

HG: Yeah!

TJ: Uh, do you want some Halloween candy?

HG: Hell yeah I want some fucking candy! Yeeeeeeeeah!



Homeless girl procees to run toward me and throws her arms around me.



I was sort of doubting that she was really homeless because she and her friend looked really clean and were wearing like Gap clothes, I swear. But then she kept on talking to me and I realized she was a total insaniac, so she probably was homeless.



Whatev. A little candy makes everyone smile.

OK, I'm not saying girls club was the best show on TV, but it was entertaining, and it featured the breathtaking city of San Francisco as its backdrop. Why cancel a show after two episodes? What kind of show can build a fan base after the pilot, except cheesy rip-offs like CSI: Miami.



Lame!

Oh my God. The elephant man! Scary! Cathartic! Can't turn your head away disgusting!



AHHH.

I see some pretty crazy test results and procedures on the labs that come through my office. You know, the old rectal biopsy, for example. I see pictures of spleens and such. But the funniest test name I've ever seen is esophagogastroduodenoscopy. It brings me great pride that I can even spell that behemoth.



And let's not forget weird patient names. Willie Dong comes to mind.

Muffin tops just aren't the same as the real tops of whole muffins.



It's the same, but different. Ya know what I mean?



Damn you Molly Stone's, you tricky little bitch!

Angels pitcher Donnelly was rocking the glasses tonight. Crazy.



Oh, and go giants (or va gigantes, as the lame radio DJs love to say - they're so multicultural!)

Dude, I didn't know Trey and Kendal were siblings! Crazy! When I left the land of the unemployed (freelancer, unemployed goon, big diff) he was just a psycho beast making whatsherface's life with the whatchmacallits awful.



So, yeah. No more AMC for me. Actually, I only fell into that trap because we had no cable until, oh, June or so? Anyway, I'm free.



But I guess I'm not. I'm trapped in the 9-5 world again, only I can get away with 10-ish to 5-ish, which is nice. The past month has been all about work, at a medical center of all places. Candice hooked me up - yes, we're in the same office once again, in different but related jobs. We're actually working in the transplant department, which is insane and interesting all at once.



What else? Ben moved to a new apartment across the street from Dolores Park. Very, very cool. I've continued my obsession with Trading Spaces and all things related to home improvement - although I've been sticking to improvements made by purchasing lovely little things.



It's all about the things. And now that I have a consistent paycheck, I can buy lots of them.



Whoever said money can't buy happiness obviously never had any. There's a smile on this face...

Many new things going on.



The least important of which is tjdegroat.com, but you should go take a look anyway. Ben always complained that it was a lame site, but my requests for him to redesign it were ignored. Finally, this weekend, we sat down and cranked this out. Simple, clean, worth a look.

Back. Long story. More later.

I think that out of all the commonly misspelled words, rediculous bothers me most. I guess it's because it looks so outrageously wrong to me. Things like judgement (should be judgment) or definately (should be definitely) aren't a big deal because they don't stand out to my eye so much. Rediculus is just so ... ridiculous.

Do you think the media was capitalizing on the grief surrounding Sept. 11 to capture bigger ratings? A lot of people do, but, I think that's pretty silly. It's Sept. 11. What else is the media supposed to do? Media is a reflection of society. New York and D.C. were filled, from dawn to dusk, with memorials and speeches, so doesn't it make sense that the television news media, from dawn to dusk, reported on those things and the people affected by the terrorists. I, for one, really like the personal profiles. It's important to attach some faces to the numbers. Luckily, no one I know died that day, so it's hard for me to imagine how devastated the families of victims must be. Watching some of these news segments gives me an idea.



Also, it can't really be about ratings. If every major network and every cable news channel is reporting on basically the same thing, the ratings game will be pretty pointless. People will just watch the channel the usually watch.



I just really think that for the most part, if people didn't want to see it, it wouldn't be on TV.



I get really sensitive about people dissing the media without really thinking about the topic. At Rutgers, there were always anti-Targum protestors, saying that the newspaper never reflected so-and-so's point of view and calling for boycotts. I always wanted to give in and stop publishing for a few weeks because those people would realize how utterly lost they'd be without the newspaper they hated so much.

Letterman tonight? Love Bill Clinton. The man has it still. He's just so on. But thank God he mentioned that bracelet he received from Colombian Indians. It was really bothering me...



And did anyone else think he sounded a lot like Dr. Phil?

My landlady is adorable. She's like 95, speaks very little English, and just came down here because she can't figure out how to open the microwave. Someone gave it to her and she has no clue how to use it, so she put the food in, cooked it (for too long) and then couldn't figure out how to open it...



As I was leaving she said, "God bless you." Too cute.

It's funny how inarticulate local news anchors are during live news breaks, when they actually have to stray from the teleprompter.



(I said don't blame the media, I didn't say not to judge them.)

This is really worthing looking at.



I have mixed feelings about all of the hoopla surrounding this anniversary. I have mixed feelings about possible attacks on Iraq. I have no mixed feelings about the fact that we all need to take some time to think about what happened. I hear people saying they're going to stay away from TVs and the Internet because they don't want to get caught up in everything. I want to get caught up in it. We're all so far removed and it's unbelievably important to take everything in. As far as I'm concerned, I can't watch enough programming, have enough details. I want to know everything. I want to memorize the death toll, I want to remember how many lives were lost, to find out exactly what is going on in Afghanistan and with the Taliban, to hear about Iraq and why the weapons inspectors failed. Isn't lack of information part of why this happened in the first place?



And, God, do not blame the media. It's so easy to blame the media. It's bullshit. Think of something original.

I don't understand how Connie Chung became famous. Why is she such an icon? She is so embarrassing. Have you ever seen her interview people? She has this overly earnest, big-eyed, head-nodding crazed look. It scares me, quite frankly.

There are sites on my links page that gross me out and annoy me on an almost daily basis. Yet I do not take them off the list. Am I simply too lazy to upload a new version or do I like to be outraged?

1. Parchment paper is really ... cool.



2. Enrique Iglesias makes me long for the days of Ricky Martin. I'd rather listen to "Livin' La Vida Loca" on repeat for hours than deal with Enrique.

I'm not sure I'll believe it until I actually move in...



or that first rent check ... :-)

Ben and I looked at a kick-ass apartment today. Ben's the only one moving now, but if we do decide to live together it will be sometime during the next year, so I've been sort of extra interested in his new place.



Anyway, this is a one-bedroom flat in a 12-unit building that looks more like a house than a gross apartment building. Everything about it is pretty much perfect. It's on Dolores St., which I love, right across the street from the top of Dolores Park, where I play tennis every week. It's pretty spacious, newly painted and clean, but it's not a charmless new unit, it's got a lot of Edwardian features and hardwood floors (Looked at another really nice place off of Castro St., but it was carpeted and looked like a condo). Also, there is a very cool roof deck and the entry are is pretty cute.



Yay. And the landlord called him just now and said the place is Ben's.



Perfect. Walking out the door in the morning and seeing Dolores Park - nothing could be better.

It's time for me to de-American Idol myself. It's getting to be too much.

... but now I realize there will be no more American Idol. Hmm, that kind of sucks.

Holy crap. Could that have been any fucking better? The Fox executives are probably crapping in their pants because of how that worked out. For a Kelly fan, this finale could not have been any better, but regardless of whether you were rooting for Justin or Kelly, that was such a kick-ass finale.



Ah!



This makes up for Michelle Kwan not winning the gold medal.

Sweet Jesus. It's Valentine's Day, not ValentiMe's Day.

I've voted for Kelly twice so far. I've tried to vote on and off for the past 45 minutes but couldn't get through until now. A good sign?

So, I guess you're right (you little bitch), someone who reads this blog is likely to think that all I do is watch TV. That's not true! Although now that cable is back, I have been spending more time than usual glued to Food Network and TLC. I finally watched Trading Spaces for the first time. I stayed away because there was so much hype, but now I've fallen prey to its charm. I love it. There are several design ideas floating around in my head because of those crazy kids now...



I actually do other things. I could tell you about my recent travels - to the faux Western town in Old Sacramento or up the coastal highway to Bodega Bay and through the woods to Guerneville. But that's way boring compared to the finale of American Idol, which you know I'll be watching, laying on my bed, screaming when someone hits a flat note or jumping up and down when Kelly belts out a high one.



Yeah, man. I went for seven months or so with just 5 channels. I deserve to fall asleep to a re-re-repeat of the VMAs, to wake up to A Makeover Story.



Ha.

Final American Idol thought for the week: Yes, Nikki had two good performances, for her, at least. But they were still mediocre performances - off-key, karaoke-like numbers. Why Simon labeled them 'fantastic' is beyond me. Why many bloggers say she was rock solid also eludes me. She was not good. She was sandwiched between Tamyra and Kelly, who are not just great belters but all-around wonderful vocalists, and noboady noticed how inferior she was? Sweet Jesus. Also, she is *not* hot. What is wrong with America?! Nikki has got to go.

Christ, I have a problem when ABC interrupts The View with a special report and it turns out to be Bush speaking at some auditorium in Stockton, CA. Who gives a shit? I'll read about it tomorrow in The Chronicle. When I see that special report screen pop up I get anxious... Plus, I wanted to see the Matthew Perry interview!

Another obsession? Quebec City. It's like France, but it's Canada. So weird. Make up your mind, Canada, what are you?!



Anyway, I totally want to go to Quebec City, but it's way up there, like above Maine. I thought Montreal was a trek from NJ, but Quebec City is way worse. Whatever, next time I'm in NJ (Christmas, probably), there will be a road trip...

Yes, yes, I'm totally obsessed with American Idol. Strike that - I'm totally obsessed with Kelly. Ever since singing Natural Woman, she has been the front-runner in my book. Tonight she rocked it hardcore, and with a strained voice to boot. And that Celine song she sang is actually quite nice for a Celine song...

For the love of God, do not bring your entourage onstage when you win a TEEN CHOICE AWARD.



Also, don't sign with a label named Murder Inc. Please. No good will come of it.

Why do crackwhores always walk around like 5-year-old pretending to be models?



That is all.

I've been coveting this Kitchen Aid mixer ever since I started watching Food Network. I must have it. Think of how easy it would be to make calzone dough. Plus, they're just so attractive.

An interesting way to toast Elvis...

Well, we're back to the typically cold and foggy summer weather. And I definitely don't mind.

Yeah, we had problems. Servers.



NY/NJ was fun, except for the 95-degree heat. Humidity kills.



Oh, and apparently, Pyra is lame.

I'm staying at Ben's hotel for a few days - it's very strange. I lived minutes from Manhattan for my entire life, but I never had the opportunity to have an NYC location as my home base.



And this hotel, the W at Times Square, is insane. I absolutely love it, but it's very, very trendy chic. Imagine a 55-floor hotel version of Banana Republic. There are men in black with headsets standing outside 24/7 to help guests. The housekeepers are called stylists. Enough said.

Off to Manhattan and NJ. Things to be done: Mesa Grill, Nyla (you know it), Rent, a *warm* beach and 20 flavors of soft-serve ice cream in Freehold.



Will good news await me?

I definitely have a love-hate relationship with this city. There are a lot of negative attributes - the less-than-clean streets in many neighborhoods, the homeless *catastrophe*, et al., but I'm still blown away by San Francisco's natural beauty. Tonight I drove over to Baker Beach and even though it was foggy and windy and cold, I was sort of hypnotized by the scene. The ocean, the hills of Marin, the bridge, not to mention the fucking gorgeous houses in Seacliff. Sometimes I'm still shocked that I really live here...

It's like my reality is a river, but it's all ... choppy. - via Andrea

Finally figured out why this wasn't publishing, but I had to redo everything and it's rather funky. Should be less so in a few...

What the hell is this about? Anna meets Michael?

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Hmmm...

Oh, blogger.

Yes, I'm a loser, but the following must be said:



Soooo happy for RJ on American Idol. Boy sang the shit out of his song. Perfect tone, amazing transitions from soft to loud sections. Very controlled. Wow.



Have you guys ever auditioned for anything? I mean, I've done some very laid-back auditions for a cappella stuff and choirs and plays, and I was freaking out then - I couldn't imagine doing what these kids have done on national TV. Oy.

Just discovered that the Hallmark channel is airing Facts of Life twice a day every weekday. It's so cheesy, but it was one of my absolute favorites as a kid. I was watching the show when I stupidly decided to play around with a mop sitting in a bucket of liquid. I put it up in the air, squeezed it, and the bleach or whatever came down into my eyes, nearly blinding me, so said the doctors in the hospital I was rushed to.



So, yeah, Facts of Life was the shit, along with Punky Brewster and, above all, Bionic Woman. If only they'd bring that show back. Jaime Summers was my first crush.



Oh, and did you know Lisa Welchel, who played Blair, has a website with a journal? She's quite the Christian stay-at-home mom now.

Who says there's nothing good on TV on Sundays? USA has "Can't Hardly Wait," the teen movie of my graduating class, followed by "10 Things I Hate About You."



What more could a teenybopper ask for?

A tip for those who want to try making homemade fried chicken: Don't.

Still diggin American Idol, but, really, are any of the male contestants straight? And why are the guys so completely inferior to the girls? Sigh.

The peeling has started! THE PEELING HAS STARTED. Two-tone face.



If I have to go through the irritation of a burn, I'd at least like to keep the tan.

Hey, MGM Studios.



Next time you feel like throwing tens of millions of dollars down the drain, why don't you just give it to someone needy, like me? It'll save you the embarrassment.

My face, my face, my face is on fire. I don't need no sunscreen, let the motherfucker burn!



Really, though, it hurts. And it doesn't look red enough to hurt like this. My neck is the real problem.



The annoying thing is Saturday night at dinner (I think) I was talking about the time I went to a tennis match without putting on any suntan lotion and by the end of the day the tops of my knees and my neck were bright red. Nothing else. Just the knees and neck. That was so fucking painful.



I just hope my face doesn't peel off in chunks. That's not a hot look.

I did go to the parade. I was stuck at the end of the route, where there wasn't nearly as much music and partying and fun, but there was a protest from some scary gays who dislike the commercialization of Pride. Police came and arrested a few as everyone near them shouted, "Let her go! Let her go!"



Heard Sir Ian McKellen speak at the main stage at Civic Center. But by that point I could feel my face burning up in the sun so we had to bust a bitch outta there. Stupidly, Ben and I decided to go to the beach later on, where my red face darkened a shade. Not so much fun. Nor was climbing up the hill at Fort Funston very fun. To get back to the parking lot from the beach you have to climb this gargantuan, steep-as-a-mofo staircase. Again I say, no fun.



More fun was meeting Marcus and Tim yesterday. It's weird and sort of anticlimactic meeting "Internet friends" because it feels like you're meeting someone for the first time, but you already know so much about each other that all of the easy first-meeting chitchat is gone. (I actually had to tell someone yesterday, "Oh, yeah, so I"m meeting some people I've known for like three years, but who I've never met face to face. How embarrassing)



Last night was pretty cool. We saw a bit of the Dyke March while waiting for the idiots at a restaurant in the Mission to get their shit together and give us a table. We went to the Castro to see the debauchery. I heard stories of men having sex in a window on Castro St. (later confirmed by my roommate's girlfriend) but I didn't see it. I did happen to see three latino guys doing some very nasty things while waiting in line for the bathroom at a bar. That was fun/scary, but most of the night was much more tame, consisting mostly of thousands of people standing around in groups doing very little.



Oh! I almost forgot the best part of yesterday. At Civic Center in the afternoon there was some pre-Pride stuff going on. The best of it, by far, was Mystic Flava, this "Buddhist hip-hop collective." It was this group of like middle school kids who looked really random and out of place on the small DJ stage, but then all of the sudden they started busting out some insane moves. This 11-year-old white boy was the stud of the group - moonwalking around and schooling all the other dancers.

In bed late, out of bed early - that's my usual drunken pattern.



Debating whether to go to the pride parade. Started 30 inutes ago, but I could probably shower and get to the end of Market St. as the beginning is passing.



What to do?

9 a.m. - I wake up. The toilet does not flush. The faucet gives me no water.



9:10 a.m. - Panic about possibly not paying water bill.



9:15 a.m. - Rushing water begins flowing from fire hydrant on corner of street. Utah Street is a veritable river.



Curious morning indeed.

Loving the Corn Pops commercial with the cartoon dancers. So right on.

If you're on the Oprah show, all you have to do to get Oprah to like you or agree with you or deem you worthy, is to use the word spiritual or spirit. Better yet if something you've done is like a spiritual journey. "Reestablishing my credit was like a spiritual awakening, it really fed my spirit."

Here'e the thing about San Francisco. It's really windy and I hate it.



Now, why is Chicago called the windy city? Granted, I've never visited this midwestern metropolis, but I am a faithful Real World viewer and those kids go outside with unbuttoned shirts. They walk around outside and their hair stays put! That does not happen here. I walk up Van Ness every morning and sure enough, I have hold my jacket or shirt down so it doesn't blow back. When I look out my living room window, all the trees are blow-blow-blowing. It's incessant. And it's slowly driving me mad.



Also, speaking of Van Ness, did you know that 50 percent of the city's enormous population of mentally ill homeless hang out in that general vicinity? Well, they do. Damn! San Francisco has a lot of crazy motherfuckers. It's scary and sad and, sometimes, to be honest, sort of funny, because, let's face it, crazy people are generally funny.



I will burn, I'm sure.

It's the first day of summer, you say?



Well, in San Francisco, predictably, it's cold, windy and overcast.



Happy summer.

Soul mate?



1. I thought I was the only person on Earth who thought "Ghost World" was overrated. And the chick who plays the best friend, who was praised in this and "The Man Who Wasn't There" drives me crazy. There's only so much monotone I can take before going rabid.



2. "I'm the One That I Want," which I saw live at Rutgers, was phenomenal. "Notorious C.H.O." which I saw live in SF (jealous?) was even better. And props for the awesome titles.



3. "Vanilla Sky" should not have been overlooked as it was. Perhaps it's because it was a remake of such a recent movie. But I thought it was better than the Spanish version and I thought Tom Cruise did a fine job. Cameron Diaz was a raving bitch and amazing at it. And, yes, Penelope Cruz *was* great. She is off to a slow start in English-language films, but don't overlook her. Check it "Blow" and "All About My Mother" for proof that she's the real thing. And the accent is adorable. Hush now.

I should clarify that my birthday was April 15. The previous post was just one of my periodic realizations that I'm older than I realize and a consequent lament of my fleeting youth.



But thanks for the belated wishes.

Ever since last summer, I've been totally into "A Dating Story" and "A Makeover Story" on TLC. What they need to do is have a marathon of "A Dating Story" where they air episodes of couples that are still together, or at least were together for a while, and at the end of each show briefly update us on them. I WANT TO KNOW.

Oh my God. I can't believe I'm 22!



That is all.

On our way back from the Mission, rounding the corner onto my street, we hear what sounds like a drum circle. As we're walking up the hill a couple of guys wave at us and tell us to come on in. So, we soon found ourselves in the middle of a freaky little party with everything either dancing or jamming. A Nigerian Priest told us the older people there are all Afro-Cubans or Brazilians who've gotten together since the hippie days to play music (and, I suspect, to smoke a little pot marijuana). T'was strange but fun.

Friendly Terri Yuan is moving out here for the summer, taking a class at Berkeley to finish up Georgetown requirements and an art class in SF. So she's going to crash with me while looking for a sublet. Should be fun.



But in other, even better news, I now have both DSL and cable. For the first time ever. Sweet.

Unoriginal comment of the night: There's a big difference between what you want to do and what you know you should do

Here we go:



Music. Money. Writing. Running. Loving.

And I'm so happy for the Citerella chick to have made the Hamptons Magazine.



Sigh.

Typically, I am so loving "The Hamptons." It's making me question my allegiance to the Jersey shore.

I feel so weird. To be honest, it's like being on E, that feeling of being tired but energized at the same time. Every breath is *felt*.



Anyway, I was watching the Alma awards because I decided not to go out with Ben to Looq Hard. Nelly Furtado performed this duet in Spanish with Juanes and it was solid. I used to hate on her voice because I saw her on some TV show singing live and it was God awful, but her recent Grammy performance rocked me and this was, as I said, awesome.



What else? I got "Everything is Illuminated" by Jonathan Safran Foer as motivation to get me to follow through with my book idea. If this dude can have a novel published by 25, so can I. I guess it helped if Joyce Carol Oates is your THESIS ADVISOR at Princeton, but whatever, connections only get you so far. You still have to deliver.

Never once on "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" have a seen a contestant phone a friend who actually, without a doubt, knows the answer. It's like these contestants have no idea the areas of expertise of their friends. This is important information to have before coming on the show. Ah-yeah.

More...



Walking and Falling

By Laurie Anderson



I wanted you. And I was looking for you.

But I couldn't find you.

I wanted you. And I was looking for you all day.

But I couldn't find you. I couldn't find you.



You're walking. And you don't always realize it,

but you're always falling.

With each step, you fall forward slightly.

And then catch yourself from falling.

Over and over, you're falling

And then catching yourself from falling.

And this is how you can be walking and falling

at the same time.

So, after putting all of my journal entries (which go from April 1999 to last summer - and don't include the original set, from July 1998 through April because Angelfire ate them), there is 174 pages of single-spaced thoughts to gawk it. I'm excited because I've always had crazy ideas to try to give my dream of writing a book a jump start by organizing my journals and looking for themes/ideas/inspiration. I've started a few times but never actually finished the copy n paste nightmare. But now it's done. Just think of the possibilities.

More blasts from the past:



Poems from "Anita Liberty."



"Pride"



I have to be proud, because if I weren't

you might think you're as good as I am

and that wouldn't be any fun for me at all.





"Compromise"



Lowering my standards

So you can meet them.

Going through old journal entries for a project. Came across this from February 2000. Worth a second look. Very fun.

This is too funny. Make the Royals dance. Will, not surprisingly, has the best moves, but Charles can get down!

Oh my God, Amanda Foreman, who plays Megan on "Felicity," is 36!

Beat ya.

Oh, SNAP!



I'm so glad I don't read spoilers. Giles is gonna bring Willow dooooown.

Thanks to Ben, I went to Ikea again tonight and bought the final thing needed to make my room a cohesive, flowing sactuary. Rock on.



Oh, and I will find out. I have ways, you know.

Speaking of Real World, my mom chatted with Irene, the nut from Real World Seattle, yesterday outside her hotel. Irene was trying to find the start for Bay to Breakers, which royally fucked traffic all around my mom's hotel - it was right on the Embarcadero.

Woah. Just heard the new "Papa Don't Preach" by the Osbourne daughter. My mom had talked about it when she was here - obviously the New York stations play much more new music than San Francisco, the shit radio capital of the universe. Anyway, the song is really good! Very pop rock. The Pink megaphone effect is overused, but otherwise it's awesome.

"Say what?" moment of the night:



At Ghirardelli Square, eating ice cream with Ben and my mom. I ask Ben is he wants the cherry on top of my milkshake.



"You don't like them?" he says.



"Ben! How many times do you have to eat my cherry before you realize I don't like them?"



- Oh, and what is going on in San Francisco tonight? On my always quiet street, there is a party bus parked in front of a house full of rowdy people, and PROM kids are everywhere, including Ghirardelli. Who goes to to get ice cream for pre-prom?

We've seen the sights, been to the beaches, eaten at great restaurants and seen a fantastic show, but if you ask my mom what the best part of the trip so far has been, I bet she'll say being carded while buying cigarettes at the Chinatown Walgreens tonight. "We card under 40." It's the little things.

Crazy. Very interesting job opportunities coming up. We'll see what happens...

I was feeling pretty much over Buffy, so I haven't watched for a few months, but I gave it another shot tonight and it was enjoyable. Although Dawn is still as annoying as ever. Wah, wah, wah.



In other news, my mom is coming to visit tomorrow. We will hit the Berkeley hills, tour the city, head to the beach, see a musical, and more importantly, spend hours at Ikea. Joy.

Two 5-10 second shakes over at my house.

Ooooh. It was 5.2, 4 miles deep, centered south of San Jose, so sort of far from SF. But ambulances can be heard outside my window.



Here's the first AP story.



"The upper stands of Compaq Center in San Jose shook violently for 10 seconds with 9 minutes remaining in third period of Sharks-Avalanche playoff hockey game."

Hmmm. There was an earthquake. I feel so robbed. I thought it was just wind blowing open a kitchen door. But apparently in other parts of the city it was more noticeable. My roommate was walking home and didn't even notice it at all!

I hate to see Felicity go, too, but they had to end it with graduation. Remember 90210?

We all know about R. Kelly's alleged sex tape. But this?



In addition, Kelly has also settled two lawsuits brought by women who accused him of having sex with them when they were minors. Documents have also shown that Kelly was married to the late singer Aaliyah, his former protege, when she was just 15. The marriage was later annulled.



What?

Sweet Jesus - did anyone see 20/20 tonight?



Macauley Culkin is GAY! I hate to stereotype (no, I don't), but all signs point to GAY.

A very well thought out Ikea trip resulted in the perfect shelf, some little decorations and a pseudo headboard that I'm pleased with. My bedroom is now fresh as hell.

Oh. Found out Mandy Moore broke up with Wilmer Whatchmacallit from "That 70s Show." I think we all know why.

I am so pleased with myself. Just finished putting together an alumni site for the Targum. We're gonna email everyone whose addresses we have (we being me and Cathleen) this weekend and hopefully we'll all be able to keep in touch. Imagine the networking possibilites. Off the top of my head, I know Targumites who have landed at People Magazine, AP, Newsday and the NY Times. I'd love for them to be emailing me about having their contact info listed on the alumni site. Wheee.

Photo booth fun - from two weeks ago, when Eva and Wade were visiting.



Photo 1 - Me, Matt, Ben and Eva (I'm tan!)

Photo 2 - Ben, Wade, Eva and Matt on the bottom, next to my driver's license. We couldn't fit five in the booth, but I refused to be ignored!

Did anyone else see the musical episode of That 70s Show?



I have only this to say:



Dear Mandy Moore,



Your boyfriend is a raging homosexual.



Love, T.J.

Read the following essay introduction:



Can we survive without technology? That is a question that everyone thinks about at one point in time. Most people in this world would say no. Some of us would say yes and the rest of us would not know.



You probably think it was written by a precious little 6th grader, but in fact, the author is a fully grown college student. Her name is Gloria and she is, indeed, a glorious sight to behold. This tragic yet beautiful creature meandered into my life last summer. I was visiting LA on my way across the country with Candice and we stopped in Downey, CA to hangout in Gloria's phat pad. Candice and Gloria roomed together at the illustrious Cal State Hayward for a year. It was at this world-renowned institution that Gloria composed her famous essays, which landed her Fs every time. The best part is that instead of taking the classes over and writing new essays, Gloria would hand the same ones in. She was very organized, you see, and always saved her garbage. Needless to say, she ended up leaving the open-admissions school 9In Candice's defense, she was there for a year on an exchange - it was the only Bay Area school in the program. If you squint your eyes and stuff cotton into your eyes, it's just like going to Berkeley).



Oh, Gloria. Bitch may be dumb, but she is funny as hell. "Oh HELLZ no, Candice!"

Great. The one day I decide to bring my discman to the tennis courts, I fucking leave it there. What a ridiculous weekend.

Do you think computers and the Internet have made people less able to deal with confrontation? Or even expression at all? It seems to me like there are just so many little games - is that the age we live in or the age I am? Internet or the 20s?



I guess I just think people are lame. And as long as we are communicating indirectly more often than directly, people will become even more pathetic.

16 under par, baby.

By the way, I just scored 4 under par on my fourth try. Boo-ya!

This is my favorite thing EVER.



Internet mini golf. [Via The Daily Blah]

Say hi.

I love Felicity. I really do. I love the characters, I love the moody lighting. I loved this weeks sort-of finale. But one thing: people can't just sign up to take classes at Stanford. Felicity just decides to go. Ben just hits the Registrar to sign up for med school. Hello?!



But the episode really was great. I didn't tear up like I normally do during the Real World finales, but I was close.

Oh yeah. Vignette.org has been around for three years. My journal/personal site has been online about 8 months longer than that.



I remember when I was in my first year of journalling there was a webring for people who had been at it for more than a year - that was the big marker of a successful site.

Just had my second fall on a tennis court. The first was fine - I was down very low, having just hit a wicked cross-court forehand, when I went backwards slightly and hit my butt. This time, though, I was hitting a very high, ugly backhand and tripped over my feet and fell on my knees. Wearing shorts. Painful.



Oh well. Much pride.

Hmmm. I wish the person from Time Inc. and TV Guide who reads my site would give me a job! Pretty please. Are you a writer? Receptionist? CEO? It would be tres funny if the CEO of some gargantuan corporate giant visited my web site. Yeah.



Speaking of corporate giants, have you checked out out Asian Diversity Magazine? It's da bomb, da flava. Also, check out my much-hyped interview with MTV's SuChin Pak.

Oh my God, I look like Yasmine Bleeth's mug shot. I have some gross scar on my nose, a strange bump below my mouth and now I cut myself right between the eyes trying to move a lamp into my new room (phantom roommate is finally gone).



Jesus!

Who? Who? Who? Who? Who?

Tomorrow is teejaymas 2002. I will be 22.



Oy vey.

So, within the past two weeks I met a guy who has traveled extensively throughout Mexico, Candice suggested a summer trip to Guadalajara and I discovered the journal of a former high school classmate who spent a semester in Salamanca, Spain. All of this has made me obsessed with the idea of studying or working in Spain. The idea of finding a paid internship is ideal and I literally yelped when I found a program that sends people to Spain (not Costa Rica, Nicaragua, but Spain), where they live in a private room with a host family and teach the whole family English in exchange for free room and board. Perfection!



Then I read that it's for females only. How completely, insanely, repugnantly disgusting.

TJ doesn't fart. Farting and burping is a particular talent of Ben's, though, as anyone who's spent more than an hour with him can attest to.

TJ is so old, he farts dust.

My Uncle is in town on business and last night he scored some Giants baseball tickets. It was very cool - typical ending with Barry Bonds winning the game in the bottom of the 9th. But there was one really depressing moment. I looked over to the video screen and saw that the next guy at bat was born in 1978. "Wow, that guy'a a youngin," I said. He must be young, I thought, because I was born in 80 and surely I am young. But then I realized I'll be 22 on Monday. I am not young. I am not 18. What the fuck happened?

So, five years after his death, Biggie's family is suing the entire city of LA. What? Very fishy. Maybe there isn't enough studio material to hawk more posthumous albums a la Tupac.

Oh hell no! I forgot about Felicity!!!!!!! Wah!!!!!!!!

People who put their SAT score in their resume are seriously lame. And coming from me, who loves asking all friends what their score is (well, what's yours?), that's saying something.

Also, currently feeling sick. Typical congestion. Why does a head cold make light singing sound so much better? Belting is a bit of a problem, but softer, lower singing, and even some high stuff sounds so much better than normal. That episode of "Friends" with Phoebe and her sexy new sick voice is true.

Oh my. Currently in love with John Mayer. Definition of dorky cute.



"Why would you want to trade in what you really want to do for what the odds are in favor of?"

According to Michael Musto, one of the more legit gossip columnists, Madonna may be interviewing Britney Spears for InStyle Magazine. I wonder if this will be like the rumored duet.

Ben's and my wedding gift for my mom and Earl. AnnAndEarl.com

Whaddyaknow, she *can* sing live. During an interview for a British Madonna documentary, someone asked Britney Spears to sing a little Madonna a cappella. She sang a bit of "Like a Prayer."

Last night, after five or six drinks, Ben talked me into jumping on stage to dance with Jenny and him by promising to buy me a rug I've had my eye on at Ikea. Well, being the materialistic whore I am, I finally relented and as I was climbing up, my old, comfy, favorite grey pants ripped from the zipper, down the crotch, all the way to my knee. After a couple of minutes I told Ben and Jenny, who cracked up. The stranger next to us noticed, laughed hysterically and ... within seconds, produced a camera! Bastard.



At least I have my rug.

I just heard that workers at the WTC site are ready to finish up work. Didn't the early reports estimate it would take more than a year for the clean up?



Ben and I went downtown to the WTC when we visited NYC last month. It was dark and rainy and depressing. I had forgotten how big those buildings were. While standing near the old church, looking at the massive cranes and spotlights, it struck me that it sort of looked like they were just building some huge new mall or something. A quick glance at the hundreds of posters, flags and notes on the church fence tells you otherwise.

Newsweek's cover story is an interesting profile on Bill Clinton that hits a bunch of different subjects, from reactions to the scandals of his final days as president to his home life (which I must say interests me. That marriage is an odd one) The story has a decidedly pro-Clinton stance, but as a staunch Clinton supporter, I find a lot of its points worth bringing up.



- According to recent U.S. Census stats, the much hearalded Reagan boom lifted 50,000 children out of poverty, the Clinton boom did the same for 4.1 million.



- Last month news broke that the eight-year, $73 million Whitewater investigation turned up no evidence of criminal wrongdoing by the Clintons. I had heard this but forgot about it.



- Clinton has not been heard criticizing Bush, but he does remind people how his team tried repeatedly to kill Osama bin Laden, foiled at least a half-dozen terrorist attacks in the United States and more than tripled the antiterrorism budget of the FBI and other agencies. In fact, it was the GOP that blocked his anti-money-laundering legislation (aimed at Al Qaeda), not to mention stopping his efforts to rein in the book-cooking accountants later responsible for Enron.



- Some members of Congress still echo Bush’s 2000 Campaign charge that Clinton “hollowed out” today’s military, the very same military (built and trained in the Clinton years) that has performed so well in the war against terrorism.



It was sort of breezy for a in-depth piece about such a newsworthy guy. We'll just have to wait for his book, for which he'll earn $12 million. It'll be out in fall of 2003.

God bless America.



First, children go to school deathly afraid that they won't make it home because of "depressed" kids pulling out machien guns and now children have to fear their own insaniac mothers. How a mother could kill her child is beyond me.



The older I get, the more I realize that, despite coming from a divorced family and moving around a lot, I had a pretty choice childhood. I had a mother who wasn't a lunatic and went to schools that were safe. How remarkable.



Oh, and on a completely different subject, that word insaniac might not be a TJ invention, but I thought of it last night as I was standing in line at the Red Vic to see Sixteen Candles on the big screen (so fun!). I called someone an insane maniac. Insaniac. It's perfect! Have you ever heard it before? I hadn't.

CABLE MODEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



So fast. Praise Jesus.

I think I've linked to this before, but it's worth another look. Absolute genius. Via Candice's newly working site.

"I drink to make other people more interesting." George Jean Nathan

The 9 bus, which runs from the financial district down Potrero Ave. is the bus I take to get downtown. This route has the nicest, newest busses, which is ironic because the people are always so gross. Today, a man wearing pseudo army fatigues sat across from me. I couldn't see the title of his book, but there was definitely a huge swastika on it.

The great thing about working.writing from home is that I can get out of here at 2 if I want to and hop over to Dolores Park for some tennis. Yesterday was 70 degrees, not a cloud in the sky - gorgeous. And it's supposed to hold up through Monday. Yay for San Francisco.

I thought the Oscars were really well done. Despite the length, they were sort of smooth. Whoopi was funny, the speeches were pretty decent (except Jennifer Connelly, who was so frightfully boring and mellow!) and the fashions were elegant.



But Gwyneth Paltrow!?!?! What are you thinking? She looks like a 70-year-old droopy-chested man in a wifebeater.

Indeed, I married my mother to her long-time boyfriend, Earl, last weekend. Thanks to those crazy Internet people, aka the Universal Life Church, I am now the Rev. T.J. DeGroat. You can become a minister too! It all came about because my mom was complaining that hiring a minister was going to cost $400, which seemed awfully high to her. I realized that I had been ordained as a joke freshman year of college, so I checked it all out and it's legal. I'm thinking I could sell my services for a nominal fee and swipe the Dr. Seuss vows my mom found and rewrote (Will you take her as your wife? Will you love her all your life?) and become the toast of the Bay Area.



Anyway, the wedding was nice. In a Victorian house in Englewood, N.J. Ben and my friend Lauren were there. The whole thing was Irish themed - on St. Patrick's Day, shamrocks everywhere, an Irish drum with the family crest was displayed, etc.There was much liquor to be enjoyed, thank Jesus.



On Monday, which was snowy and rainy and freezing, Ben and I spent like 14 hours in NYC. I had my SuChin Pak interview (she was fabulous and I got to hang out in the TRL studios) and we saw "Kissing Jessica Stein" in the East Village, which made me want to LIVE in the Village. We also hung out with Ben's friends and had an awesome Italian dinner in their cute neighborhood.



Hmmm, what else? My missing roommate, who left for Christmas and never came back, is indeed back. He's moving his stuff out by the end of next week, in time for me to move into his room. Then when Janalese gets back from New Hampshire, she can take her old room, which I had been living in. Ya get? So, the best part is that the new room is freaking 500 bucks a month. In San Francisco, not in the ghetto. Amen.



And although the DSL situation is still fucked, it looks like there will be a cable modem in this joint within two weeks. Obviously, I'm not holding my breath.

So, I married my mom last weekend.



More on that later...

OK, I know "this is only a test from the Emergency Broadcast Service," but when I see them on FOUR different channels within 10 minutes, I feel slightly alarmed.

What parent would name their children Rufus and Martha?



Well, despite the name, Rufus Wainwright put on a kick-ass show at The Fillmore last night. From the solo piano pieces to the full-band rock songs to the three-part harmonies of Rufus, Martha (his sister) and Teddy Thompson (who I didn't recognize, but whose song, "Wake Up," I adore), the show was varied and phenomenal. But it was a standing show, so while I was psyched to hear him start the third song of his second encore, I was dying to leave sit my ass down.



Oh, and Martha opened for Rufus. She is just as incredible as he is. And most people know their parents are a successful folkish duo. Killer genes, eh?

And, by the way, AD Magazine *did* hand over the dough, or offer to. So I *am* pretty set.

I was really pissed last night because during the course of a pretty pleasant dinner at the Sf Culinary Academy, I was basically accused of having a shitty time by two people when, in fact, I was perfectly content. I guess my personality leads people to believe that I'm bored or disinterested unless I'm laughing hysterically and fawning all over them. That's not the case. And it frustrates me to no end that I have to jump up and down to prove that I'm not miserable.



You know, I don't want to be perceived as some sort of melancholy energy vampire. I want to be a life force, that one person everyone looks forward to seeing. But I'm not - partially because of my tendency to let my frustration and annoyance show. I can't control what others think, but I can control that.

I love the semi-new Carl's Jr. ad.



"Introducing the new Carl's Jr. chicken strips. Because chickens don't have nuggets."

Strange dream last night.



I was in a sort of rec room with my good pal Brandy (as in the secretly married and randomly pregnant pop star), telling her about how odd itwas to run into Tiffany (as in thebreast-baring former teen pop tart) again. You see, we'd been friends as children and when she appeared on The View, which I was co-hosting, it was very circular and lovely.



Indeed.

Excitement = the magazine I wrote a long diversity feature for asked for two short sidebars. So my first piece for a print magazine will be a three-story spread. Pretty cool. Now if only AD Magazine would get going and start to hand over the dough, I'd be all set.

Suchin Pak, the MTV VJ, just left me voicemail. How cool.



So, I'm interviewing her for Asian Diversity Magazine and since I'm going to be in NJ for my mom's wedding in a couple of weeks, I suggested that we meet in person for the interview. So I'll be hanging out at MTV on the 18th - my dream. Hysterically, when we were setting up a time she said, "Morning is best because, you know, we do TRL in the afternoon and you probably don't wanna sit through that." Um. Yeah.



I also just interviewed the director/writer of "Better Luck Tomorrow," which has been praised by everyone from Roger Ebert to Peter Travers at Rolling Stone. It debuted at Sundance and was bought by MTV Films. He was super nice and the interview should turn out to be pretty good.



Rollingstone, here I come.

I was watching Charlie Rose interview Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Conner and I thought she was so interesting. She kept using words like "marvelous" and "wonderful" and it made me think of my grandmother. And her life! Oy. Her best story was that the Reagan Administration official who called her to invite her to come to Washington to discuss a Supreme Court appointment was a partner in the law firm that tried to hire her as a legal secretary when she was fresh out of law school. She went on to take a different job at another firm, of course.



Oh, and Happy March. Hopefully its sunny and 70 where you are...like it is here, and has been for the past four days or so.

I am so unhappy about the skating. Because I'm a freak and have followed ladies skating since 1991, I know that the results could have been different so easily. Since Slutskaya and Kwan both made mistakes, although Slutskaya's was less severe, the judges could have marked Kwan down technically, but she could have outscored Slutskaya in the artistic mark, which would have placed her second in the long program and first overall.



So easily.



Also, I think they should just give the gold to the older skater. Hughes is 16 and totally could win in 2006.



Wah. I'm a huge baby, I know, but nevertheless, I want my Michelle to win. But, hey, maybe it'll be easier to score an interview with her now that Hughes will be the new media darling.

So, Daniel Pearl is dead.



You know, people spend so much time knocking journalists, and deservedly so at times, but I wonder how many ever consider how passionate many reporters and photographers feel about their work, how many risk their lives every day to try to provide a voice for an ignored party. Yesterday's Oprah was about what motivates journalists to risk their lives to go to war-torn nations. Christiane Amanpor, that ubiquitous CNN correspondent, said something striking. She said war reporters are a little like firefighters. They run toward danger instead of away from it because they feel that they have an important job to do, one that no one else will do.

I knew from the commercials that this week's "very special episode" of Dawson's Creek would be a disaster, but my God, 10 minutes of friendly banter between a mugger and Joey is just too much. Hopefully, the Creek will follow the monumentally better Felicity and bow out as gracefully as possible at the end of the season.

Another young student goes crazy and threatens to blow some shit up. Personally, I truly believe that we should destroy the entire human race and start over. What's with these crazy kids? Am I the only person on Earth to make it to 18 without wanting to blow up my high school? Am I the only guy who had fun as a teenager?!



...And don't even get me started on the Olympics pairs skating fiasco. I'm just gonna pray that the ladies competetion is controversy-free (meaning, Michelle Kwan blows away the competition)

Now, I loved "Bridget Jones' Diary." I saw it four times. But was Renee Zelwegger really Oscar worthy?



I'm happy and surprised by some of the nominees. I just thank God Nicole Kidman was nominated for "Moulin Rouge."

I liked Ananda Lewis when she was a VJ on MTV. Compared to Carson, she always seemed like an absolute intellectual. But, for the love of God, her talk show is inane. And while I know she is an intelligent person, she comes off sounding ridiculous half the time. Make it stop. I doubt she’ll last much longer before going the way of Iyanla…

I know two truths.



1. Every moment is a new chance to turn it all around.

2. One sentence can make a conversation swing 180 degrees.



It figures that my truths would drive me around in a circle of highs and lows.

Wow. Music-obsessed blog. I should turn this into a pop culture blog. Pop vulture?



Unlikely.

When I bought the Britney Spears CD in November, I received a free singles collection with five songs from random acts. One was from an newly signed artist whose debut CD would come out in the winter. This was the onyl song on the CD that I liked - I actually adored it. Suddenly, this chick, Vanessa Carlton, is huge. her video is a buzzworthy clip on MTV and she's crossed over to the TRL base, too. She's got a great backstory, too - a piano player who seriously studied ballet through her teen years, but gave it up because of all the bullshit associated with dancing professionally. Now, she's back at the keyboards and, if the first single is a fair representation of her music, she's on her way to big-time success.



Speaking of which, I'm glad Michelle Branch is moving beyond the one-hit wonder label with her second single. Same for Natalie Imbruglia. Her new song kicks major ass. I love it. Back to Michelle, I'm seeing her at a club in SF in a few weeks - should be fun times.



Continuing with the music theme, I went to Amoeba for the first time a few weeks ago. It's this huge CD store in SF (and there's one in Berkeley) that offers a ton of used CDs. I found Duncan Sheik's last CD for $5. This thing is amazing. I had read a lot of positive reviews last year, but didn't pick it up, despite loving "Barely Breathing." This new CD, "Phantom Moon," is a really well-crafted work. It's all mellow and neo-folk with music and lyrics that are equally beautiful. "Mr. Chess" is my favorite. Buy it now.

I'm totally digging music from Lori of Real World 10 (New York). I checked out the website of the a cappella group she was in at Boston College, and she is definitely the best female soloist in the group. A cappella is weird because the songs are usually amazing and technically difficult, but the soloists are, more often than not, mediocre. Anyway, there are clips of her a cappella stuff here - she solos on "As Yet Untitled" - and there are also two regular songs featuring her on this site.



Also, I finally found the second song BT produced for Britney Spears here. "Before the Goodbye" is probably one of my favorite songs by any artist, but the second BT track is good, too. Neither made it onto the American version of her CD because of squabbles between BT and Jive Records (story is that Jive wanted changes and BT was not into them telling him what to do). I sort of wish she had stayed with the techo-pop sound of these two tracks rather than the R&B style of the rest of her CD, but oh well.

Today, while lost within the maze-like paths of Golden Gate Park, I saw a one-legged man walking a three-legged dog.

Email from Charlie: "Isn't it SO FUCKING WEIRD how it's possible to

have a love-hate relationship with a WEB SITE? And yet, we seem to."



Amen.



Although I'd say my relationship is more like-hate than love-hate. But I am starting to appreciate it again.



Just as odd, in my opinion, is that no matter how annoyed/frustrated/disgusted I become with this site, I could never take it down.

I think that a lot of people who didn't go to Ivy League schools find it endlessly amusing when someone who did winds up failing at something. I know I chuckled tonight when I watched the oh-so-gay Harvard student on Millionaire use all of his lifelines and walk away at the $8,000 mark. Is it he or I who is pathetic?

Fogel, why do you deny me?

Well, I haven't gone to bed yet, so this counts as Wednesday.



It's strange to have two freelance projects that could actually become successful business ventures. Strange, I say, not great. Great would be if they both were generating some real cash.



(And I won't mention the Australian Open)

A challenge, perhaps.



How about one post each day. One link, one line, one paragraph, one commentary, one criticism, one emoticon - something each day.



It can no longer be about audience and this crazy blogger/journal/personalwebsite community that we're almost forced into. It's got to be about writing. For me.



So I'll write something each day, share some of myself, no matter how insignificant. It's a (re)start.



Now...that was easy, wasn't it?

Ben and I hung around Civic Center long enough to see the Olympic torch pass through. The runner stopped in front of city hall for a photo op with the mayor before taking off for the Embarcadero. The funniest thing was watching a 30-something mother with a camcorder sprinting away from her family as the runner took off - torch groupies are a strange sight to behold.

At least I'm not Buffy.

I came back from a few days at Ben's to find that PG&E has blocked off all parking near my house and is in the midst of a month-long construction project. The fools are working about 15 feet away from my bed...



In other news, the never-ending DSL saga continues, although we are closer to solving the problem (which makes is more frustrating that it keeps dragging on, ya get?) So updates will still be infrequent, even though the past two weekends were amazing and completely deserved mention. Later, perhaps.

Happy New Year...



Last night was mellow but fun - my first New Year's celebration in a city. Oh, just kidding, forgot about Providence in 2001. Well, my first New Year's in San Francisco, anyway. Ben, Terri, who flew out for a few days, and I combed the Mission District for some food before hitting a packed party downtown at 111 Minna. The crowd was a bit more posh than usual (they're already pretty WASPy), but the overall vibe was cool. Luckily, the rain held off until well after midnight, making our 20 minute wait for a cab much more pleasurable than if it had been raining. Since ArtDecoDenny's had a 45-minute wait, we just combed through my pantry for some late-night snacks. Nothing like garlic bread with cheese at 3 a.m. after a night of drinking, eh?



Oh, and it's been a year. Can you believe it?