XCD Day 6: Gateway to the Midwest

Our second-to-last day took us through St. Louis, MO.  Annie has a close friend there, so we were excited to meet up with someone who'd be in 'our part of the country'.

Day #6

We started by taking Angel to a large park in the middle of St. Louis, since he'd been itching for some outdoor time.  We immediately liked the city.  It felt so much like Ann Arbor that I was extremely jealous.  I know it has a bad rep for a city, but let's be real, we were moving from Oakland.  How much worse can anything be than Oakland?

We met up with her friend, and it was actually really fun.  It made me happy that we were just a quick drive away from each other.  I foresee some crazy, commuting weekends.  Or maybe we'll meet in Indianapolis for some debauchery.  Who knows!  The one complaint that I have about St. Louis:  the arch is a joke.  When Annie and I first talked of taking the southern route across the country, I had two landmarks that I wanted to see:  the Grand Canyon and the Arch.  The Gateway to the West.  Well, it turns out that it's not that big.  It stole all of the underwhelming feelings that I had reserved for the Grand Canyon.  I wanted it to be looming in the skyline as soon as we were within city limits.  Annie didn't even notice it until we were on top of it driving into Illinois.  We were going to stop there and ride the elevator, but once I saw it, I said we should just continue on.  Who wants to ride a choad monument?

See if you can even find the arch in this picture. I feel like most Google Images of StL are fake. It's really not that big.

This day's driving ended in Evansville, IN.  We knew a girl that had went to school here, so we again took it as a sign.  Getting a hotel was uneventful, except the prices seemed to have gone up while the quality has gone down dramatically since leaving the Southwest.  We were interested in finding another local eatery, and we were feeling adventurous after a bunch of success in Missouri.  We found a Thai place that was highly rated on Urbanspoon and Google (granted, with very few reviewers).  So, we decided to try it.  How bad could it be?

Driving there felt like the opening scenes of a horror movie.  We pulled off the main road.  Off a side road.  Over some railroad tracks, and to the end of a tiny road.  Handmade signs were posted for Thai Chow Oriental Foods, but it pretty much just looked like a barn.  Fuck it, we went in.  Sure enough, an old Thai lady was in the back whipping up something that smelled delicious, and a bunch of rednecks swarmed around her helping in the kitchen and ringing up food up front.

Most people ordered to go.  We saw a half-dozen orders get picked up while we were there.  For the few patrons that had to wait around a minute or two, great conversations were had.  We were told how everyone loves this place, even though it's practically an underground, hole-in-the wall.  Everyone was super nice, and the food was actually pretty good.  Like, I'll probably eat there next time I'm driving through Indiana.  It was super strange, but had the greatest small-town feel.  We were starting to get excited about the people in the Midwest again.  (Some people think KY is the South.  Glance at a map.)

Almost Home!

Unexpected Food #3, if you're counting,
~RoB

Homemade-ish Shrek Costume

Halloween planning started almost a year ago when Annie saw the musical production of Shrek.  She called me on the phone, after seeing people running around in souvenir Shrek ears, to tell me that it would be a great costume.  I already look like an ogre, and she thinks she's a princess.  Perfect.

But this wasn't our first spectacular costume idea, so I was surprised when I started going through the motions to pull it off a few weeks ago.  It started at the Goodwill in the Tenderloin of San Francisco.  I needed a Shrek shirt.  So, I took these pictures and sent them to Annie for approval.

I picked the shirt on the left, and it cost me $2.50.  I also picked up the sweater below, that I intended to turn into a vest, for $7.50.

Angel is helping.

I chopped off (but saved) the sleeves and the bottom.  Though not pictured, I cut a line up the middle of the front, and I cut a strip from each side to tie together.

Then I went and got a $4 bald head.  Annie's Fiona wig ($18) was the only official thing that we bought, and it's pictured below.  Since she was going as human princess Fiona (even though I thought she was going as ogre Fiona for months until she told me that she didn't have the bust size to pull her off), she didn't need the ogre ears.  We pulled them off, and I cut the bald head so that they slipped through and held themselves in place against my head.

(I'm probably naked.  That's how I roll.)

Add to the whole ensemble a pair of brown, woman's tights that I bought from Wal*Mart for $6 and a brown belt that Annie uses to tie her sweater dress.  BAM!  Shrek!!

Like I said, we bought the Fiona wig.  Annie found a hideous nightgown at Goodwill in Oakland.  You can see what it looked like initially, and how she was taping off a pattern for the Christmas ribbon.  She snagged the tiara from the dollar bin at Target.

Annie used gold Christmas ribbon for her waist and neckline.  Then she used a glitter pen to make the sleeve piping and the flowery details.  We bought a dog's cowboy hat for Angel, and we removed the red strap and used it to line the hat.  We glued some yellow feathers to the hat, and added some black felt above his trail-climbing booties.  Finally, I took my leftover sleeves from cutting the vest, put them on my legs, rolled them down, and draped them over my Merrills to make ogre boots.  I did have to sew a little, to reinforce the vest under my arms, but since we didn't make the clothes, I feel bad saying it's entirely homemade.  Oh well.  The final product:

Shrek and Fiona and Puss in Boots wishing you Happy Halloween 2011.

There was one great moment where Annie was working on the neckline of her dress, but she had already done the waist.  She needed something (or someone) to wear the dress while she was pinning and Fabri-Tac-ing, etc.  She made me put it on.  Worse yet, the waist part couldn't go past my shoulders, so the whole outfit was scrunched around my neck, with shitty nightgown fabric draped down over my body.  Nowhere to put my arms, unless I reached them out from under the dress.  It was probably the best sight of the whole process.  We spared you the picture.

Making a Shrek costume (including $2 green Wal*Mart makeup):  $22.  Buying the official Shrek costume at a Halloween store:  $42.  Plus, if you actually pull off a good homemade costume, you feel super cool.

Up until the afternoon of the Saturday before Halloween (since it's on a Monday this year), our plans were to just go wander around San Francisco.  We're not really the type of people to pay a cover to go hang out with sexy nuns and schoolgirls where a DJ is playing.  We wanted something laid back.  At like 5pm we discovered online that there was a dive bar in north Oakland that went all out for Halloween.  It was described as looking "like a Spirit Halloween Store threw up everywhere".  We decided we could do that (and we could walk to it from our closest friends' apartment, whom we convinced to pull costumes together and join us).  It ended up being really fun, fairly inexpensive, very drunken, and everything we wanted out of Halloween.

Go Us!

Happy (belated) Halloween!
~RoB

Hella Occupy Herbstreit

First of all, I am pretty sure that most of my blog readers are not Californians.  So, I have to explain something. In northern California (the good part... sorry L.A. folks), if you want to emphasize a verb (or adverb), you don't just say "really, really".  Or "uber".  You say "hella".

"I hella love chocolate."

Yes, it sounds ridiculous.  No, I don't actually say it.  However, the FREE 'Hella Occupy Oakland' poster prints that they were distributing last night at Occupy Oakland were pretty awesome.  So I thought I'd give a shout out.

On another note, I've been reading tons of blogs since I started blogging.  The whole subculture of bloggers and blogs is pretty addicting once you find some really good ones and become one yourself.  (Not that I'm a really good one, but I enjoy my blog very much.  Or I wouldn't put so much time into it.)

These two topics are related, in that my current favorite blog (which Annie found) is Occupy Herbstreit.  I hella like it.  It's really just a tumblr site, but I'm pretty sure it counts.  Here are some of the gems from that blog:

Forgive student loans & B1G game performances.

This economy intentionally sucks so it can draft Luck.

Since Annie and I are simultaneously granola eatin' liberals and sports geeks, this was the first Occupy movement that inspired us to participate.  So, we braved the tear gas and police brutality.  We went out to Occupy Oakland to add our voices.

Corso needs the mascot's head of the next Great Depression!!

Oakland picks bad mayors as often as Dr. Lou picks Notre Dame

Annie Occupying Herbstreit

So, that's that.  When we grow up, we can proudly tell our children how we fought the good fight.  We smelled the Occupy movement, and it smelled like cigarettes and homeless people.  I'm not gonna lie, there were a significant number of skinny jeans there, too.

We sent our pics off to the Occupy Herbstreit blog.  Here's to hoping that they're included.  If not, we'll just consider them our first Halloween costumes of the weekend.  *Update: they were included!*

ESPN Gameday is ending as these last words are being written.  Michigan is about to steamroll the Boilermakers.  We were happy to be two more lost Gameday fans Occupying Oakland.  #StandWithOakland

Go Blue!
~RoB

Oakland Under Fire

Not since Michael Jackson's death (a.k.a. the Craziest Day of My Life) have I heard so many helicopters.  Once again, it sounded like we were under attack.

At 4:30 am this morning, Oakland decided they were going to kick Occupy Oakland out of their downtown encampments.  No big deal to me.  I mean, I like the motion that Occupy Everything is creating (especially Occupy Herbstreit), but I'm not one to live like I'm homeless for a cause.  I don't even like living like I'm homeless for fun (you might call it camping).

Cops using gas on Occupy Oakland

The big thing is that Annie and I live about a mile away from downtown Oakland where all of this is happening. (Since you have to walk around a lake, it's about 1.8 miles away.)  And, as I said before, they used choppers to help their police.  So, yeah, it was loud and annoying at an awful hour this morning.  And it kept going on 'til about 8am.

We kept the news on, to find out when the streets were safe enough to take Annie to work.  You know, since Annie works a block away from where these protesters are standing off with the police.  The roads were closed, and BART closed the nearby station.  We finally took our chances and went in at about 8am, and made it through fine, but I'm interested to hear what happens.

The news is saying that now-awake protesters are starting to return and throw things at the cops.  The professional protesters from Berkeley and San Francisco (donned in ratty 'Save Darfur' and 'Impeach Bush' shirts) have shown up to help make a scene.  And they know what they're doing.  The word has gone out that Occupy Oakland will reconvene at the downtown library at 4pm today.  And that's where things get rough.

2 nights ago.  Tonight should be much more interesting.

Daytime Oakland protests and public gatherings are typically real protesters.  As soon as it starts to get dark, and if there's reasonable resistance to the cops already, the more news-worthy Oaklandites show up to riot for real.  Like, burning streets / looting rioting.  They don't need to be involved or even support the movement; they just want chaos and crime.

And that's what we're looking forward to tonight.  I really want to play volleyball, too, but it's also in the same block that will probably be called Ground Zero tomorrow.  Maybe I'm just pessimistic, or maybe Annie and I can just recognize patterns.

So, yeah, umm... Oakland RIOT!?!
~RoB

Wal*Mart

Last Friday, I was driving a friend to the Oakland Airport in the morning.  I got off at Hegenberger (no clue, but I always pronounce it "HEY-zhen-burr-zhey" like it is some classy french word).  The friend that I was driving, who was in the back seat like Miss Daisy, pointed to the Wal*Mart in East Oakland and noted a marching band parading around in the parking lot.  There was a huge group of people congregating outside in front of the entrance.  It made me laugh, and I assured her that I would come back and check things out after I dropped her off.

And I did.  Turns out it was a Grand Re-Opening of this Wal*mart.  There were tons of great cartoon characters in real-life form.  A preacher was praying.  Some city council people were there talking about how Wal*Mart has done all these great things for East Oakland.  (East Oakland is the rough side of Oakland.)  And a marching band.  My life is so random and awesome.

Then, they cut the ribbon, and we all piled inside.  It was really awkward, since 75% of the people there were employees.  20% were official people in business formal.  4% were in costume.  And then there was me.  As the employees walked in, they lined both sides of the aisle, like cheerleaders greeting football players onto the field for homecoming.  I actually needed something from Walmart:  green makeup and brown tights for my Halloween costume, so I thought this would be a ridiculous atmosphere for doing some mundane shopping.

All throughout the store were these characters, and little booths that each one manned giving away freebies.  Dora the Explorer was cutting Grand Re-opening cake.  The Coca Cola polar bear was making root beer floats.  Cowboy Twinkie was continuing to add to the obesity of our children.  So on and so on...

It actually took me back a decade.  If you knew me in high school, you knew that I was a very dedicated Wal*Mart employee.  Back when Wal*Mart actually had a star in between 'Wal' and 'Mart'.

I primarily pushed carts.  I also carried out big items.  And I emptied the full can return machines.  I actually loved it.  It still remains one of my top jobs ever.  It kept me in good shape, I got great sun, and I got to enjoy the continuous circus that is Wal*Mart employees and clientele.  We had a Grand Re-opening when I worked at the Monroe Wal*Mart on Telegraph in Michigan.  (It's since moved across the street and turned into a Supercenter.  So jealous.)  The Grand Re-opening was planned for a day that you probably remember:

September 11th, 2001.

No joke.  We worked for weeks to prepare.  Everyone was staffed almost like it was Black Friday.  Carts were allowed (for the first time ever) to take over some close parking spots as a holding spot for the mad rush of craziness that we were expecting.  And nobody came.

You saw footage of long lines at gas stations where people were freaking and getting gouged.  But, apparently, nobody was that worried about stocking up for impending doom.  Just gas?  Really?  A few people came, but at no point was there more than 1% customers and 99% employees in our huge, sparkling store.  At one point, I think I fell asleep on top of a row of carts out in the parking lot.  It had been a rough day.  They even sent me home early to 'spend time with my family'.

So, aside from NYC, and the twin towers, and terrorism, and one of my best high school friend's 16th birthday, September 11th will always be the Grand Re-opening of the Monroe Walmart.  I'll take that with me forever, too.  Thanks, East Oakland Wal*Mart Grand Re-opening, for reminding me of that.

Once, just once, I had to clean up poop in a bathroom.  It was everywhere.  It was like explosive peas.  It was not awesome,
~RoB

Oakland Dishcrawl

Dishcrawl is a new startup.  Instead of bar-crawling, you go from restaurant to restaurant tasting great food.

We did it.  Annie and I went to the one in Oakland a few weeks back.  We started off by exploring some new condominiums in downtown Oakland (and were rewarded with cupcakes from my local fave, James & the Giant Cupcake).  The condos also had sushi and tacos from local restaurants, as well as free wine and beer.

We had art.  This Dishcrawl was on the same day as the monthly art shows that line up on Fridays (called Art Walk or something like that).  So, we added a few of those to our route.  Below are some of my favorite things.  We also bought a series of magnets from a local artist that had a cool African vibe with rhythm lines.

This reminded me of a friend's tumblr.

So cool... and sexy.  (3 separate canvasses).

We had food.  I found my new favorite burger/food truck.  fiveten Burger has some bomb-ass garlic oil fries, and even though our burgers weren't super fresh (since they cooked for 100 people or so), they were still really good.  Annie caught them a few days later and confirmed they're her new favorite burger.  Plus, Roland follows me on Twitter, so he's a cool guy.  We also got to try an Oakland staple:  Tina Tamale.  They are really good (but honestly, the burgers won that night).

We had fun.  We made some new friends.  We got invited to someone's cupcake party (but we were out of town for the Royal Wedding).  And I got to sneak peaks at some cute lesbians all night.  All in all, you should check out Dishcrawl if it comes near you.

Yes, that is a blurry CreepShot of a couple of lipstick lesbians,
~RoB

Power Ballad Key Changes

It was a late night after my closest friends and I finished Annie's performance of Les Mis and headed to Rudy's Can't Fail Cafe in downtown Oakland.

We started to have a discussion about how the 25th Anniversary Concert of Les Mis had the best 'Bring Him Home' ever.  (Well, that's my opinion, at least.)  I said Alfie took it up like a 4th or a 5th when he came in, and Annie called me stupid and said he probably only went up a step.  Then I went on to agree that she was probably right, since that is the way things are done in power ballads.  (If you don't know anything about Les Miserables, then you should find a way to see it performed on stage.  If there was only one musical that you were to ever see, make this one be it.  Fuck Phantom.)  Amazing quartet of Jean Valjeans follows [old guy is the original, guys on the outside are the current, English JVJs, and Alfie comes in last]:

We were with two friends that, though very intelligent, don't have minors in music from Michigan like Annie and I, so they didn't quite grasp our discussion.  We went on to try and name examples.  My first guess would be that there's a Whitney Houston song with a big dramatic key change, but I couldn't think of it in 'I'll Always Love You'.  Annie, and I look at each other, obviously singing it in our heads, and we both smiled at the same time.  Yeah, it's probably the most notable key change of a power ballad ever.  About 3:10 into it, after the brilliant grand pause and a single drum beat, she returns to the chorus in a different key.  It's easiest to tell by listening at 1:57 and immediately scrolling to 3:20.  Play with the song here:

Since then, I've decided to go through some of my music and find more examples.  I listen to the cheesiest collection of music from all of those soul sisters you're picturing in your head right now:  Celine, Mariah, Christina, Groban, Clarkson, Underwood, Wonder, and a plethora of American Idol rejects.  I was actually surprised at how many of the songs I assumed change keys about 2/3 of the way through didn't.  Anyway, one that's really easy to hear is found at 3:24 of Bon Jovi's 'Livin on a Prayer' (let me be the first to apologize for '80s hair):

If none of this post made any sense to you, then don't worry about it.  This was just a chance for a few bandos to geek out.  There's another one in MJ's 'Man in the Mirror', but I'm finally bored with this.

What other songs can you find?
~RoB

Bridesmaids & Batteries

I told Annie that I was interested in seeing Bridesmaids when we first saw the poster a month ago.  I knew that it had something to do with a bakery (my cupcake blogs were abuzz), and I love the girls from SNL.  Well, the movie was a hit, but we didn't get to see it until last night.  It was truly hilarious and a highly recommended movie.  Hell, you've heard that all week.  However, I woke up this morning frustrated by unanswered questions that apparently haunted my sleep.  (IMDB this shit if you don't remember character names from 3 days ago anymore!)

1) Why can't they make anybody from the Midwest in movies sound like they're from the Midwest?  They had crazy accents flying around the whole movie, and not one sounded Milwaukeen.  I know people study accents.  Come on!
2) What was the pill/drink combo that Helen gave Annie, and why wasn't she ever caught purposefully giving her a concoction that would fuck her up?
3) Does Annie ever get back into baking professionally?
4) What was it that Helen said that convinced Rhodes to come reunite with Annie after the funeral?  And where, exactly, did he change from his uniform to the hipster suit?
5) How long can a butterfly survive enclosed in an envelope?

I guess I can't expect things to come full circle if the script is written entirely by women.  (Considering how popular yesterday's post was, I guess I have to keep things controversial.)  [I'm clearly joking.  Women are smarter than men.]  {I'm out of parenthetical enveloping symbols after this.}  <Except these, I guess.>

I figure that some of these questions were left unanswered to leave room for Bridesmaids 2 (where Annie and Rhodes get married) and Bridesmaids 3 (where Megan marries Air Marshall Jon) and, assuming Hollywood continues as it has, Bridesmaids 4 (where talking puppies get married) and Bridesmaids 5 (where one of Rita's 'sticky' boys grows up to marry Helen's step-daughter) and Bridesmaids 6 that I can't even pull out of my ass right now.

Moving on...

I stayed home yesterday to fix my car.  It was just the battery, though it was hard to diagnose.  The most physically intense part came where I had to try and jump start the car so I could drive to a store and replace the battery.  My car was parked in the car port under our apartment building, so the hood was inaccessible.  I turned the key (it didn't start if you've been keeping up), but I was able to put it in neutral and let it roll down the driveway.  However, I'd have to turn the car uphill in order for me to park it downhill (everything in the bay area is at some sort of angle).  There was some pretty crazy leg pressing going on as I pushed my car slightly uphill, jumped in, pulled the steering wheel with everything, and managed to depress the manual brakes before ramming Annie's gas-guzzling SUV.

I have no real tools at my apartment, but I managed to do it all by myself.  It required using a random-ass assortment of tools available at the local auto parts store.  While struggling to get the battery out in the parking lot, there were some great moments.  One African American guy walked by (and into the store) shirtless, openly smoking a joint.  He didn't seem to give a f*ck.  Also, two Hispanic guys climbed out the back of a semi trailer and asked me what the price of some tires sitting outside were, as if I gave a f*ck.  I'm out $100, but that's way better than I thought it would be in the middle of my freakout.  I then went home and made chili in a crock pot, and I took the rest of the day off work for some macho time watching Bill Burr's first HBO Special.  Once again, I had one of those days where my pimpmones were flowin'!

Can I even talk about bridesmaids and pimpmones in the same post?
~RoB

Mosswood Chronicles

These days I regularly play tennis at some very interesting courts.  They are at a park called Mosswood in Oakland.  They don't have grass growing in the cracks like my high school courts, but they are in really, really poor condition.  The reason we keep going back is because they have lights and they are always empty.  I've never once waited for a court.  Heck, I've never seen more than one other court in use.  The other court in use could easily be a soccer player as much as a tennis player.  Anyway, it's near a rougher part of Oakland, and these are some random things that have happened to me (more often the people I was playing) since we've started playing tennis there.

Fat Fan

A thug-looking man with his pants sagging stood next to the fence waiting for the bathroom on a Sunday evening.  I was on the opposite side of the court.  I could see that he was talking smack to my opponent, but it wasn't until he left that I got the scoop.  Apparently, his biggest comment was: "Don't underestimate the fat one.  I used to be fat."  My first thought was, 'does that guy think he's in good shape now?', but it changed to just being happy that he thought I was taking it to my college roommate, who is tall, in good shape, and gorgeous.
 
"He sure is working a lot less than you are," was the other comment he had, apparently.  I don't know whose skills this is a testament to.  Either I'm rocking the corner shots, or I'm firing wildly while he returns everyone right down the center back to me.  Either way, thanks for being the thug-est cheerleader I've ever had.

A Foot in the Grave, A Hand of Bridge

Early one hot Sunday afternoon, my old roommate and I were out there playing.  Slowly, old people started piling into the adjacent rec center.  When I say slowly, I mean that every other senior had a walker.  They cruised by the courts at paces close to a one-legged dog's top speed.  After the first dozen went by, I asked what was going on.  I was informed it was a big bridge tournament.  Not less than 10 minutes later, an ambulance pulled into the parking lot of the facility.  I immediately had a little giggle to myself, wondering what brand of hip it was bringing in for some unlucky senior.

5 minutes later, my friend joked about how the ambulance was going in circles.  I had to notify him that it was actually another ambulance that pulled into the driveway.  The ambulances were apparently just on stand-by. They were still there when we left almost an hour later.  I, of course, assume they were for the seniors playing bridge, but I guess I can't count out the short baseball players running around in the field dressed in capris with tall, striped socks and tshirts.  They were probably going for a 1930's baseball player look, but the guy that ran buy us just looked like a leprechaun with his shaped, ginger beard.

Line Judge

Annie and I were playing once, when a chubby African American kid started climbing all over the fence behind her.  Again, I could see he was saying stuff, but it is impossible to hear on these courts because they are located next to the freeway.  Apparently, he was behind her keeping score.  Annie claimed he had no concept of how tennis actually worked, and he just kept giving me points if I hit it hard and at her, no matter where it actually landed.  The best part was when I initially asked her "What was that little girl saying to you?" and Annie responded with "Actually, it was a little boy."

Beer, Anyone?

One time when we showed up to play, the trash can on the courts was filled with at least 8 broken up cases from 12-packs of beer.  I don't know what kind of crazy, homeless, house party went on in those courts, but it didn't smell like pee or puke, so whatever.

Rapper's Delight

This past sunday, the park was overflowing with loud club music, with a loud, driving bass beat.  In between points I would look over at what was going on, but I could never get a good view of anything.  At one point, a gaggle of random people collected beside the courts.  At some point, one white guy holding the leash of a bichon frise starts freestyling for the little girl on the shoulders of one of the other standers-by.  He went for a while.  I can't attest to the quality, since, as usual, I was on the other side of the court.  Maybe I should start standing by the bathrooms/rec center!  Or maybe I should look less intimidating, like the people I'm playing. ;)

I'd like to return to the Berkeley Rose Garden to play, but those bitches pissed me off when they complained we were playing too long.  We weren't.  No question.  Karma will get you old, crabby bitches.

Tennis in sketchy Oakland, anyone?
~RoB

Is This Ironic, Alanis?

On Saturday, Annie, myself, my college roommate, and his girlfriend all went to a wine tasting event in Alameda (a little island next to Oakland).  If Annie doesn't write about this event in her blog, I'll try and talk about it later this week (Holla to my new friends from the back room... you know who you are!).  Annie 'went to bed a little early' after the event, which meant she got up an hour or two before me on Sunday morning.

She had plans to travel with one of her friends to the Alameda Flea Market.  I had no interest, since flea markets are dirty.  I know, I've heard several times that this one is fancy.  All I can think of is Gibraltar Trade Center, though (only Michigan natives might know what I'm talking about).  Maybe one day I'll scrounge up a picture of young ~RoB in a t-shirt with his name airbrushed across the front.  Nothing like some good ol' redneck flea market merch!

Anyway, I woke up and made plans to play tennis.  When I got down to my car, I realized Annie was parked behind me.  Problem: Annie took her keys to get back in the apartment later.  So I called her, and her phone was off.  I had to cancel tennis (Annie's spare car key is currently at her grandfather's).  Finally, I got a hold of her and she said that she had thoughtfully removed her car keys from her oversized keychain and left them on the table.  They should have been on the key hooks, avoiding the whole situation, but I'm not going to complain when she obviously thought this through before leaving.

So, I called and rescheduled tennis.  I drove Annie's car to take Angel to a dog park near the courts, met my friend, and played tennis.  We played for 2 hours or so.  When we were finally worn out, and I was pulling all of my stuff out of my tennis bag, I saw that my phone had 24 missed calls, 5 voicemails, and a plethora of text messages.  Here's how those texts went:

It is amazing how much of her increasing frustration you can feel as the anger crescendos and eventually peaks, jumps off a cliff, and leaves a defeated, raving psychopath with nothing left but soft-spoken hatred.

It turns out that when I drove away in her car, I did to her what I had accused her of doing to me merely minutes before.  I had her car, and my apartment keys have my car key on them.  (Our apartment has collectively lost my spare car key.)  Her soccer match started at 1pm.  She was supposed to be the 3rd girl, otherwise her team would have to forfeit.  She wasn't very happy to see me, even though I raced home to pick her up and drive her to her match.

When I told this story to our roommate, I said that it was 'ironic that I did to Annie what I accused her of doing to me'.  Is that ironic, though?  At least cosmic irony?  Alanis Morissette seriously screwed up my definition of the word ironic, after it was once explained to me that not a single incident in her song (titled the same) is technically ironic.

Isn't the fact that a whole songs was written about a word, yet the word was inappropriately used... well isn't that ironic?
~RoB

Death by Fast Food

Last Saturday was one of those days where I just felt off.  Annie and I got up and rushed to Zumba.  (Have I mentioned how much I Zumba?  If you don't know what that means, don't look into it.)  Anyway, we were late (a typical occurrence lately) and it was packed full.  I told Annie I didn't even want to do it if there were that many people (I like a lot of space to get my dance on!).  She looked at me like I was being dramatic, but she gave in and we left.

We drove over to Bake Sale Betty in hopes that the fresh strawberries at the farmers' market meant that they'd be making her favorite dessert: strawberry shortcake using their buttery scones.  They had them, and that made her day.  We also found out that they can make their famous chicken sandwiches without green pepper, so I am excited to go back and try another one (their cole slaw is almost entirely bell pepper, and I didn't like it).

We then took Angel to the dog park for a while and decided to drive out to Alameda's Borders since it was due to close on Tax Day and may have a bunch of cheap finds.  The only way she convinced me to go was by saying that I could get my tennis racquet restrung at the Big 5 next door.  I broke one of my strings while playing the evening before.  So, I gave in.  It turns out that Big 5 doesn't restring racquets.  That, and the long line at Jamba Juice that I decided to avoid, got me frustrated.

Though I did find a book I'd needed to finish a series for $3 at Borders, I was still a little moody.  When I was walking to my car, I saw that the Jamba Juice was still too busy.  I noticed that See's Candy was empty though, and I snuck in for a few of my favorites: milk chocolate butterscotch squares.  Way better than bordeaux.  Way better.

I knew that Sports Authority restrung racquets, so we had to make the trek back to Emeryville.  After finally getting my tennis racquet in for stringing (which led to a free $130 racquet), I walked next door to Taco Bell for some comfort food.  I wasn't super hungry, but I definitely wanted something to help my sour mood.

It's really sad that I consider that comfort food.  Yet, like all fast food, there's something satisfying about it, even though it's certainly awful for me and regularly don't enjoy the feelings I'm left with.  It's like they use MSG or something.

Anyway, comfort food it was not.  All I wanted to do for the next few hours was throw up.  I tried a few times, unsuccessfully.  I don't think I'm even capable of throwing up any more.  I haven't actually vomited since I was in 8th grade, a story which has been retold so many times that Annie probably feels like she was there with me.  I pretty much laid around moaning until I finally just went to bed.

Everything went better on Sunday, and since then, but crappy Taco Bell really capped an already-bad day,
~RoB

I think I'm avoiding Toxic Hell for a while.

Little, Nose-pickin' Girl

I'm driving down 980 in Oakland to pick up Annie from work.  Suddenly, the car next to me honks a few times. I look over, and this little (7-yr-old?) African American girl is joke picking her nose and waving while her mom honks the car horn.

I realized I was intensely picking my nose.

It was so joyfully awkward that I laughed all the way to Annie's work.

Too bad I wasn't mortified enough to actually stop picking my nose while I drive,
~RoB

Where's the Blog, RoB?

The blog took a backseat this month to 47 pages of paperwork that were required in order for me to start my new job.  I'm still not completely finished, but I've at least submitted the biggest part for review.  March Madness and drinking have taken a big part of the last week, too, but I will have posts regarding both of those.

I am hoping to run a 5K this weekend as part of the Oakland Run/Walk festival.  I wanted to run on Sunday, in order to train, but instead got caught with Angel in a downpour.  I ran home, but it was apparently too late.  5 hours later, while at a friends house, you could hear/watch me descending into sickness oblivion.  I woke up Monday completely incapable of moving (full-body muscle cramps, pressure headache, head congestion, and wooziness).  I called off work, and I slept from 10pm Sunday to 4pm Monday with few sporadic 20 minute pee-drink-Nyquil-passbackout periods.

I feel better today, aside from a headache, slight dizziness, and weird stomach pings.  I'm sure I'll be fine by Saturday, but I'm thinking about leaving work a little early just to finish sleeping my way to 100%.

I also returned to upstate NY for a little business 2 weeks ago.  It did nothing to make me either more excited or less at the prospect of moving there.  I still worry that we won't find friends or fun things to do, but I am also excited at the prospect of buying a reasonably-priced house and having all those things that I miss about the Midwest (space, Fall, snow, etc.) and being so close to NYC (or should I just say Broadway).

By the way, I really want to see Book of Mormon, and our apartment taped and watched the 25th Anniversary Les Miserables Concert.  It was amazing!!!

So, there we are with a life update, and I'll return you to your regularly scheduled (though profanity free for 30-something more days even though I failed to implement it in my life) programming,
~RoB

NASCAR is Trash

So, I'm driving to work, and I'm immediately inspired to write another 'Oakland has funny signs' post.  One of the 'upcoming exits' signs had been covered with a banner that said "Gang Injunctions = Racial Profiling".  First of all, that's just moronic.  Secondly.... wtf?  Is that a decorated Geo Metro?

I do not condone driving and taking pictures with your camera phone.  Yes, I'm a hypocrite.

Let's start with the fact that NASCAR is too white trash for even me, which is saying something.  I grew up in Southeast Michigan, in a town entirely employed by the Big 3 (American car companies need a new name like Screwed 3), where every child grows up with a greasy wrench in their hand, and my family was a racist pack of Miller Lite drinking rednecks.  Sounds like ideal NASCAR climate, right?  Sure was.  Maybe that's one of the big reasons I'm so against it.

I'm proud to say that I had to look up who drove the 48 car.

Anyway, this car is cruising down I-580, and I can't help but make fun of them.  NASCAR is so stupid.  Is it racist to say that I'm surprised it was driven by a hispanic woman?  (I had 'hispanic-looking' and decided this was not the place to try and be PC all of a sudden.)  Not the demographic (race or gender) I would expect to be enthused enough to do this to her car.  I pray that she lost a bet, or that this is her (white) boyfriend's car.

In the summer of 2008, when gas hit those ridiculous prices, I did some back of the envelope calculations determining how much gas each NASCAR race consumed, and how much was consumed during a whole racing season.  The number was astronomical.  I immediately formed the stance that if you watch NASCAR, you are absolutely not allowed to bitch about high gas prices.  It's called supply in demand.  It's all your fault.  Need I also mention the republican-led decisions to continue funding NASCAR while cutting funds for Planned Parenthood & NPR!?!

Totally the demographic I expected to have a car like this (except I'm too good for beer and wife-beaters),
~RoB

Unauthorized Standing Zone

Oakland has great signs.  I'm the last person that should enter this place, though it stands in the center of a Trader Joes / Walgreens parking lot:

I shouldn't even stand near it.

I just really appreciate the ingenuity in making this sign.  They didn't just rearrange letters like some church marquee.  (One-a-day Bananagrams calendar skills made me think of 'A PORN KING'.)  They wen't outside of the box and made the letters into whatever they could imagine.  The extremely high quality of the original sign probably made the whole caper quite difficult.

I can't help but think about a story from one of my best friends from high school.  His kid sister once asked "What happens when it comes out in the front?".  I still can't keep my shit straight when she's around.

Forever farting, far away from the dumpsters that this sign protects,
~RoB

Nothing is Simple

I've said for a long time that my life is interesting.  I guess most of that is due to its complicatedness (word?).  Yesterday is a good example:

My car tire had been slowly losing air over the past month.  Since I didn't have the dough to fix it, I just let it go flat.  Yesterday, I got some dough.  So, I went out to my car to put on the donut, in hopes of simply dropping it off at a nearby tire place to get fixed.  While kicking my tire iron to get the last lug nut off, I actually busted the stud in half.

Shit.  $15 tire change turns into a major ordeal.  First of all, I could only find 3 places that would fix it.  The first place had a reasonable price, but couldn't get me in for 2 more days.  The second place gave me an AMAZING quote, so I ran out the door to get there before they forgot about how AMAZING the quote was they just gave me.  By the time I got there, they put it together that the AMAZING quote was just for fixing the flat.  No stud included.  Damn you.

I returned to my car to call the 3rd place.  Kim Jong-il answered the phone (or at least the South Park equivalent).  His quote was even better than the first guy's, so I drove straight over there.  I didn't want to deal with it anymore, so I just gave him my keys and left.  I ran downtown to meet Annie for lunch.  When I got back 90 minutes later, everything was fixed.  Plus, he charged me half what the second place quoted as a 'base price' (which we all know that's 1/2 what a mechanic will actually charge you).

So, a simple leaky tire turned into a day-long tribulation.  At least that keeps things interesting.

I saw a few interesting things in Oakland throughout this whole thing.  First of all, look up Michael Mischer Chocolates in Oakland.  Zoom into it on Maps until you can see what's directly next door.  Unfair, right?  The street view helps, but it's hard to read the chocolate sign.

Similarly, you should check out street view at 1940 Broadway, in Oakland.

Undershirts have helped my nipples, but then I get too hot,
~RoB