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Jessica insisted that I become a more active My Space user. It's far more open than Friendster, which is nice. It also has a blog feature, which I've decided to start using. Therefore, all new blog posts will now be available on My Space until further notice.
A couple of weeks ago, Carla told me that on a sunny day (even during the middle of a work week), her favorite park fills up with sun bathers. Yesterday was unexpectedly hot and sunny (for SF). Today the temperature has reached a blistering 84 degrees Fahrenheit, and I haven't seen a beautiful swift cloud all day. The weekend looks to be about the same, but a smidge cooler.
The parking lot for the beach across from my apartment is full, and the streets leading to and from the beach are pretty crowded, for the Presidio. It seems that San Francisco is full of sun worshippers biding their time. If this is what they wait several months for, why aren't they all just living south of the Tahachapi?
I just noticed I have my t-shirt on inside-out. Silly me. Lazy me, not wanting to go through the bother of wearing it 'correctly'. It still looks brightly orange from this side.
The only characters on Smallville worth watching are the Luthors and Chloe. The people running the show prefer to focus their attention on the canonically tertiary character of Lana. Chloe in particular gets oodles of abuse.
Upon learning that UPN has a new show that sounds like the Chloe spin-off that Goughi&Milli are incapable of producing, I was hopeful that there would be an hour long drama worth watching this fall. At Comic-Con last month, Goughi&Milli made me like them even less. This surprised me, as prior to Comic-Con, I hadn't liked them at all. The only way anyone can get me to watch Smallville now is to let someone who knows how to do their job run the show (Ken Biller, Joss Whedon and Ben Edlund come to mind, but many other people are much better at making TV shows than Goughi&Milli).
I could never leave the TWoP Smallville boards, though. I will continue to visit and revel in the beautiful snark that crap television inspires. Someone on the TWoP SV board recently remarked that success for Veronica Mars (UPN's Chloe knock-off) would feel like proof of Goughi&Milli's ineptitude. The buzz on VM is v. good. It's being touted as UPN's Buffy or X-Files; a well made hit that establishes the network.
I want Veronica Mars to succeed so much that I've started up a fansite for the show. Good, early fansites help generate positive buzz, as my old Donnie Darko site evidenced.
The cast looks decent and the creator/writer seems to have a brain, so I'm looking forward to the premiere next month. If you strongly dislike Goughi&Milli, I suggest you tune-in as well. Veronica Mars promises to have a great big lack of Blana, and for that I am grateful.
Once upon a time, there was a little red demon with a plump belly and a flaming tail. It lived in the ruins of an old castle. The little red demon lured adventurous tourists towards the castle with patterns made by the swishing of its tail. The little red demon lived on cracked toe nails and split ends from humans.
Over time, fewer and fewer adventurous tourists visited the dry, rocky hills where the little red demon lived. The little red demon could not fathom why anyone would stay away from such beautiful scenery. Hunger began to dim the little red demon's tail flame. Even when the little red demon detected adventurous tourists, they rarely noticed the enticing patterns of its swishing tail.
The little red demon could not remember how it had gotten through life without the comforting shelter of the broken castle. A clear view from the top of a beautiful dry hill and piles of old wall were no longer helpful to the little red demon. It tried to remember another way to hunt for cracked toe nails and split ends.
The little red demon realized that it needed to be near humans to survive, and that humans had become scarce in its rocky paradise. Anxious thoughts blocked the little red demon from venturing beyond its majestic hill top. The unknown lands past the last dry hill had done something to the humans. Whatever had caused the population of adventurous tourists to dwindle was formidable. The cracked toe nail and split end hunt required cunning and strength and skill. No ordinary force could disappear more than a few nails and hairs.
The light of the little red demon's tail grew calmer. Gone were the uncounted years of chaotically dancing flame. The tip of the little red demon's tail glowed dark red, like day-old coal embers.
The light of the little red demon's tail began to attract tiny black winged insects. Desperation convinced the little red demon to swallow a clump of tiny black winged insects. A swirling pain twisted through the little red demon's body. The tiny black winged insects were far too sploshy and sticky for the little red demon's sensitive system.
Despair settled into the little red demon's head, then branched out to the little red demon's collar and protruding shoulder blades. The little red demon's tail could not stay aglow consistently. The tip of the little red demon's tail pulsed red then black then red. The tiny black winged flies knew better than to waste their wing beats on the little red demon's tail.
Despair made its way past the little red demon's sagging belly skin and branched further towards the little red demon's powerless knees and down the slope of its quiet tail. Settling into the little red demon's cloven feet, despair continued along its long and curvy tail.
Blackness won out at the tip of the little red demon's tail. The little red demon could see the snaggled castle tower from where it lay. The little red demon knew that it would not be in the dry old castle for much longer. It did have long enough to appreciate the sheltered hunting ground that the castle had provided for so long. The little red demon became dryer and dryer still.
Bits of wind sifted through the little dried out demon. Each bit of it settled into the cracks between the castle stones and the fractures inside the stones. The little dried out demon no longer had the hunt for cracked toe nails and split ends, but it would always have the broken castle on the dry hill.
On the bus to work this morning, I sat next to a young woman listening to her iPod. She wore dark pants and chunky black shoes. Her right ankle rested across her left knee, the dark pants were draped back and her bare ankle was exposed (ooo la la!). She may have been wearing peds, but I could see no sign of hosiery.
Somehow, my mind connected this to thong underwear, worn to avoid a Visible Panty Line (VPL). Why can't people acknowledge the underpinnings of their apparel? But young women let their bra and bikini straps show. Why are people so focused on only allowing their exterior to be known? What is so unseemly about acknowledging that you are, in fact, wearing undergarments? I found it far more bothersome to see a woman walking in front of me wearing white nylon pants through which I could plainly see her otherwise bare flesh, than I did catching a glimpse of a waitress' VPL through her khakis. What is wrong with you people?
Oh, and the work is just temping admin assist/reception with an employment agency until they find a permanent replacement for their former admin assist/receptionist. I had to wake up at 5 this morning. When my alarm went off, I couldn't even comprehend what it was. I was aware only of something horrible pulling me out of bed before dawn. A second or two later, I was clutching my lil black alarm clock and trying desperately to remember what was required to make that horrible something stop. I can't even recall registering the alarm as sound. It was just horrible, attacking me in the red-tinted darkness, and I had to make it stop.
Ain't Photoshop grand?
I know that the "Shuffle" function on my iTunes music player may not be as 'random' as I'd like, but for the past couple of days it keeps trying to get me to listen to Chapter 2 of "Coraline". I'm used to getting the occasional book amongst my music, but it's been lots of Chapter 2 lately. While I enjoy Coraline, I'd just like to listen to music right now and don't want to actually program out all spoken word tracks, as I like a little bit of Shel Silverstein poetry now and then. Maybe Chapter 2 is a message from my software, but I just don't want to hear it right now.
It took me until yesterday afternoon to notice the beautiful gilt, four story Williams Sonoma in Union Square. Half of it's stairs and they didn't have the whisk I've been looking for, but I love it all the same.
Oh, and I thought this lecture on the origin of death was really interesting.
The job search continues. It did yield a tasty lunch at the White Star Cafe in the Presidio Officer's Club. Openface roast turkey breast with cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and gravy on toasted sourdough. Yum!
Oh, and my foot's hurting again from too much walking. Stupid nerves and muscles and such. The new shoes may not have helped, though. That, and walking up hills. I need to find a topographic map of SF so I know to avoid certain streets in the future. They don't call it "Pacific Heights" for nothing!
I wanna see "Princess Diaries 2" this weekend. I wonder if Carla will come with me. I need to call her tonight.
My roommates showed me where the local comic shop is, so I guess I'll be visiting that soon. I can't wait for the next Nightwing. I wonder if it's out already. Hmm. Oh well. That's what I get for being out of the loop and not caring much.
The apartment next to mine is empty. Seems the previous occupants messed it up quite a bit, because management has had people fixing it up since I got here. Over the weekend we noticed that one little square of carpet in our front hall was wet. Seems that while the apartment next door was being fixed up, a leak started somewhere and got to our little square of carpet. Dorks.
I hate looking for a job. Let's just leave it at that.
Orange flavored bread from Trader Joe's isn't as fun as it sounds. Trust me. I still love their Cran-Hibiscus juice, though. Who knew flowers could make such tasty juice? Those bees know what's what. What?
I was watching "Static Shock" the other day. Everybody makes a big deal about how it stars a black teen super hero. But, like, every other character I saw on the show was white. Like, Static's the only black kid in town. That must make the secret identity thing pretty difficult for him. "Hmm, we have a young black super hero. Wonder who it could be?"
"I know! Let's go lynch that one black kid at the local school."
"Genius!"
Maybe it was just a special, all white meat episode, but I doubt it. Kids' shows today are so wack. I love me some Home Star Runner, though. I'm happy Lesley recommended it back in the spring. Going through all of their holiday episodes gave me the idea to dress as a panda this Halloween. I wonder if I'll go through with it? Hmm.....
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