Popped into the neighborhood superette on the way home last night to pick up a desperately needed bottle of wine… Corner stores and bodegas always have a rather fascinating assortment of goods… To wit…
Off-brand Christmas cookies, next to unboxed cylinders of Ritz crackers. And shouldn’t those cookies at least be marked down? It was almost as if they’d recently replenished their supply of out-of-season transfat-laden treats… And who buys them? Puzzled non-Christian foreigners? Sight-impaired shoppers with a sweet tooth? Stoners with the munchies? Oh – yeah… Stoners. Duh.
Now I’m the first to admit that I occasionally need a can of tomato sauce or some jalapenos after either forgetting to buy them at the “real” market or because I’ve run out. But I have never needed six pounds of either – ever… And judging from the thick layer of dirt on the cans, neither has anyone else. Though I must say that if I were looking for a six-pound can of jalapenos, the first place I’d look would be next to the Red Vines…
OK, here I am saying I’m too busy to blog and I’m blogging again – but this was too good to pass up…
I missed most of both the SOTU and the Republican response (due to our dinner at A16 mentioned in the previous post), but saw some of the analysis after the fact. And Rachel Maddow’s response to Bobby “Kenneth the Page” Jindal here is priceless…
UPDATE: Had to add this. As Gawker pointed out, Chris Matthews was “annoyed preemptively” by Jindal’s speech…
So, yeah, I haven’t been posting… Unfortunately, when I get home, the siren call of Little Big Planet is difficult to ignore… And my hours during the day are being annoyingly taken up by having to work (and by “work” of course I mean reading the work of other more prolific bloggers, updating my Facebook status and shopping online…). But not to worry – I’ve got a couple of posts just itching to be written, including a review of last night’s dinner at A16 (mini-review: it’s good) and a photo essay of incorrect umbrella usage.
In the meantime though, you’ll have to be satisfied with this (ahem) toy lifted from failblog.org. Turn on your heart light indeed…
You know, I can kind of get behind the “Slanket,” if only because it has a great name… But the Snuggie? And I always thought it was sealed, i.e. like a sleeping bag – but no… It’s a “blanket with sleeves”. In other words, it really is a bathrobe worn backwards… It’s the success of products like this that make me think, “Hmmm, maybe Americans deserve to be suffering the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression…” I mean, for reals – are people so inconvenienced and perplexed by a normal blanket that they need some type of specialized blanket/robe hybrid? Isn’t this the type of decadence and immorality that led to the fall of Rome?
And as much as this cracks me up every time I see it, I’m almost more intrigued by the arrangement on the second shelf… I’m guessing it’s the Illuminati section?
There are so many reasons to live in a city – be it a steaming cauldron of humanity like New York or a provincial-yet-still-metropolitan burg like SF. There’re the many and varied restaurants; the live theater and music aplenty; the profusion of bars, taverns and boites; the adrenalin-laced excitement that accompanies the frequent loud “BANG!” outside one’s window (“Was that a gunshot or a backfiring car?” Odds are about even as to which it turns out to be…)
Then of course there’s the the living cheek-by-jowl with tens of thousands of strangers – most of whom have many, many annoying idiosyncrasies (I know I do!) and objectionable personal hygiene habits (wearing gallons of cologne… Not bathing… Wearing gallons of cologne and not bathing… And don’t get me started on failure to properly care for one’s teeth.)
This is why they are and shall likely remain strangers – they are not my kind of people and I am not theirs. And that’s fine – I’ve already found a few people who can stand to be around me for more than a few minutes, so I’m all set. I’m sure they have their circle of friends, too.
Thus, it is both disconcerting and upsetting to me when strangers engage me in some type of personal interaction that is unrelated to the completion of some type of transaction (e.g. purchasing groceries, ordering food in a restaurant, buying crack).
Just the other day, as I waited in line to use the Automated Postal Center at the Post Office (chosen largely due to the fact that I would not be required to interact with a human), the guy in front of me turned around – completely overlooking the fact that I had my nose buried in my PDA while wearing dark glasses and a scowl (the urban equivalent of the brightly colored skins of the various poisonous frogs of the Amazon) – as we waited in line to quip, “I guess technology can’t solve everything!” – apparently in reference to the fact that, despite the presence of the postal robot, we still had to wait in line… I nearly responded with something along the lines of, “Yes, but I sure wish I had some type of futuristic death-beam-emitting laser pistol right now…”
Of course, he turned around just as the previous patron finished his transaction – and since he was now facing me, instead of the stamp-issuing automaton, I was forced to respond to him by grunting and waving my envelope in the direction of the machine to alert him to the fact that it was now his turn – which he would’ve known if he hadn’t tried to talk to me. Must I do everything?
Then this morning, after a lovely ride to work on the 2-Clement (the interior of which was maintained at a pleasant 102° and included some chick planted at the very front of the bus, blocking the aisle for all boarding passengers while yakking on her phone. She did graciously say “Sorry” every now and again as people were forced to shove past her – though of course she didn’t actually make any effort to move either out of the way or toward the back. And what’s with people shunning the back of the 2-Clement during rush hour? It’s not like it’s the back of the 14-Mission on a Friday night. But I digress…), I was in the cafeteria, buying my usual two slices of bacon. And the lady behind me exclaimed, “Oh that bacon looks so good! Mmmm, I wish I had some bacon. It looks really good.” Sigh… And ugh. I responded with a wan half-smile – a contemptuous and withering gaze was really the more appropriate choice but since I’ll likely see this person on the elevator at some point, I ramped it down a bit… But then I’m a giver…
So, anyway, if you see me on the street, on the bus, at the post office, in line at the supermarket or anywhere else that is not Mayberry, USA and you don’t know me, let’s keep it that way.
So, that headline is a dig at Meg Whitman’s job prior to heading up eBay – which was at Hasbro, overseeing global management and marketing of the Mr. Potato Head brand – seriously… But the fact that her head is, in fact, somewhat potato-shaped and, more distressingly, quite similar to a potato in both texture and color is justice of some kind – either comic or poetic…
When I first saw this photo of Ms. Whitman on Gawker’s Valleywag, I thought to myself, “Leave it to Gawker to find a really hideously unflattering photo of someone they’re posting about…” Imagine my surprise when I found that this is the picture from her campaign website! Really? This is the best “vote for me” photo you could come up with?
As an aspiring rich person myself (i.e. I buy lottery tickets), I am offended by wealthy people who aren’t attractive. I mean, come on – if you just don’t care how you look or have bad taste, then hire a stylist, find a decent hairdresser and check into a spa (regular or “extra-strength”, if you know what I mean…) every now and again. It’s just common courtesy — like saying “excuse me” after you fart.
As for political decision-making, her track record isn’t exactly confidence-inspiring… She was finance co-chair for Mitt Romney’s presidential campaign… When that fizzled, she signed on to John “Walnuts!” McCain’s campaign as national co-chair. (Note to self: don’t visit the race track with Meg Whitman).
Oh, and she did come out swinging in favor of Proposition 8, earning her the enmity of pretty much every one of her former employees at eBay and most of the movers-and-shakers in Silicon Valley. And from the looks of that ‘do, she also really pissed off her hairdresser…
As many of you may or may not know, one of my many endearing nicknames for Chris is “Pickles”. In fact, that’s what I used as the name of his iPod when I set it up in iTunes. So, when I had to name my own iPod, I went with “Prickles” – it’s similar while it also embraces my rather more piquant demeanor…
So anyhoo, last night I was setting up my PlayStation Network account (Nerd Alert! Nerd Alert!) and had to choose a screen name – and Prickles seemed the way to go. Of course, when I tried it, I got a message that Prickles was already in use. Not too big a surprise really… I figured I’d need a suffix or something.
So I tried PricklesSF. Nope.
Prickles_SF. Sorry.
PricklesSanFran. Error.
SFPrickles. Occupied.
Prickles3000. Taken
Prickles_3000. Unavailable.
Prickles2020. Gone.
Seriously? Every iteration of Prickles has been taken? I still find this very odd. Chris was convinced I was somehow doing it wrong… So I tried ChacunASonGout and it was available. But I decided it was a bit cerebral for the PS Network.
So then I tried a truly excellent screen name that I was positive would be unavailable – because with the many millions of PS users, who wouldn’t want this screen name? But lo and behold it went right through. And so, from last night forward, I shall be known to all in the PS Network as CuddlesKovinsky.
Apparently, the youngs are not so familiar with the oeuvre of John Waters.
So, that crazy lady who just gave birth to octuplets is already playing the God card, saying “this as an opportunity from God.” And Dlisted had this to say:
Look outside your window. Do the clouds spell “Bitch, please”? I think that’s a personal message from God to Nadya.
Why is it that the parents of these freakish multiple births always talk it being a “gift from God” or some other nonsense? And why won’t someone point out that perhaps their inability to conceive was part of God’s “plan” – and isn’t their decision to go against this plan like telling God to piss off?
Of course, how God has time to dole out septuplets and octuplets, I don’t know. He seems like he’s so busy bestowing Grammy awards, homeruns and winning touchdowns…
There are so many reasons to live in a city – be it a steaming cauldron of humanity like New York or a provincial-yet-still-metropolitan burg like SF. There’re the many and varied restaurants; the live theater and music aplenty; the profusion of bars, taverns and boites; the adrenalin-laced excitement that accompanies the frequent loud “BANG!” outside one’s window (“Was that a gunshot or a backfiring car?” Odds are about even as to which it turns out to be…)
As many of you may or may not know, one of my many endearing nicknames for Chris is “Pickles”. In fact, that’s what I used as the name of his iPod when I set it up in iTunes. So, when I had to name my own iPod, I went with “Prickles” – it’s similar while it also embraces my rather more piquant demeanor…
So, that crazy lady who just gave birth to octuplets is already playing the God card, saying “this as an opportunity from God.” And 