Last night "Airbnb Action," which I assume is some political lobbying arm/whitewashing patrol of Airbnb, caused a tweet to appear in my timeline, proving conclusively that Twitter has no idea how to target ads. Me being me (i.e., a snarky asshole), I felt moved to respond.
Har har. Obviously (if you've been following the issue), the reason that the Board of Supres is "pushing new rules" (that is, "enacting legislation according to their City-afforded capabilities") is that the current enforcement mechanisms are comically ineffectual. Current law requires everyone who rents their place out on Airbnb to register with the city. So far, "roughly 1,400 of the estimated 7,000 or more residents who rent their homes and rooms have done so, the city estimates." SO, first of all, no one is trying "2 prevent homse sharing;" we were told we didn't need Prop F because the current system works and now the current system definitely doesn't work. Even the fucking CEO OF AIRBNB didn't bother to piddle with the little city registration system. Why would anyone else be a sucker and follow the law?
HENCE MY SNARK.
Then some dog got all up in my business.
I guess this means that since Prop F was defeated, Airbnb is now free to do anything they want. BASED ON OUR NEW POLICY, AIRBNB CAN NOW RAID YOUR FRIDGE ONCE PER WEEK. PLEASE LEAVE YOUR DOOR UNLOCKED. THE VOTERS HAVE SPOKEN.
It went downhill from here.
BAD DOG! First of all, he or she didn't answer my question. I asked what we should do when the vast majority of Airbnb hosts are not in compliance. The response was "No the STR office. #duh They are the police." I suppose that means we should just let the STR (Short Term Rental, btw) office handle it? That actually makes sense if you're an Airbnb host and you don't want to bother following the law. #duh. By the time the STR cops catch up to you, the Earth will have been consumed by the Sun and Airbnb hosts on Titan will be advertising "STUNNING RING VIEWS!!!!"
As if it couldn't devolve any lower, the sad denoument:
Of course. My opinion that Airbnb hosts follow the fucking law necessarily means that I support vandalism. Also, that is some shitty lettering. Maybe something like this instead?
The real stupidity about the whole thing is that, based on the link to the Airbnb advertised on Dog's Twitter page, it appears that Dog rents out a room in Dog's house. I basically have no problem with that (within some limits). What I have a problem with is someone taking an entire home or apartment off the market and converting it into an illegal, full-time hotel. Like the one on my block - a 3-bedroom apartment that used to be occupied by 3 tenants and which is now occupied, at $300 a night, by a rotating cast of jackoffs smoking on the stoop. Or with building owners evicting tenants so they can rent out the rooms on Airbnb.
Is Airbnb solely responsible for the housing crisis in SF? Of course not. Partially responsible? Of course. Are rhetorical questions the best mode of making an argument? Not even close.
Showing posts with label Mr. Dogg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mr. Dogg. Show all posts
Thursday, June 23, 2016
Tuesday, February 9, 2016
The Fuller House teaser trailer, reviewed by someone who's never seen Full House
That's right, I've never seen a single episode of Full House. It originally aired between 1987 and 1995, or so Wikipedia tells me, a time in my life in which my interests were not aligned with family-friendly TV sitcoms. I understand that it was set in San Francisco and the Olsen twins were involved. Beyond that, I couldn't tell you a thing.
There is apparently a sequel series coming to Netflix. This trailer "dropped" as we say in the cool kids biz, yesterday or something.
I can tell it's set in SF because of the establishing shots of that bridge and Alamo Square. This is the exterior. I am informed by Google that it is at 1709 Broderick, vaguely near the bro-y section of Divisadero. I guess they probably hang out at Lion Pub.
Then there are some long shots of the interior. It looks expensive. These people were probably angel investors in Apple or something. The house is extremely staged. It is clear no one actually lives there.
BUT WAIT. At around 1:15, there is a development. A dog is in the house, apparently alone.
A car horn honks. Someone says, "Gosh, it feels good to be back. Hey, can someone help me with these boxes?" WHAT THE FUCK. Has the dog just been living in the fucking house alone since 1995? What has it been eating? Are there Olsen twins skeletons upstairs, stripped clean of flesh?
More voices. A group of people approach. The dog paws madly at the door. FINALLY, NEW FOOD. SALVATION.
Fade to black. Hopefully the next teaser trailer is the now-insane abandoned dog tearing them apart and gleefully consuming their limbs. THIS SHOW RULES.
There is apparently a sequel series coming to Netflix. This trailer "dropped" as we say in the cool kids biz, yesterday or something.
I can tell it's set in SF because of the establishing shots of that bridge and Alamo Square. This is the exterior. I am informed by Google that it is at 1709 Broderick, vaguely near the bro-y section of Divisadero. I guess they probably hang out at Lion Pub.
Then there are some long shots of the interior. It looks expensive. These people were probably angel investors in Apple or something. The house is extremely staged. It is clear no one actually lives there.
BUT WAIT. At around 1:15, there is a development. A dog is in the house, apparently alone.
A car horn honks. Someone says, "Gosh, it feels good to be back. Hey, can someone help me with these boxes?" WHAT THE FUCK. Has the dog just been living in the fucking house alone since 1995? What has it been eating? Are there Olsen twins skeletons upstairs, stripped clean of flesh?
More voices. A group of people approach. The dog paws madly at the door. FINALLY, NEW FOOD. SALVATION.
Fade to black. Hopefully the next teaser trailer is the now-insane abandoned dog tearing them apart and gleefully consuming their limbs. THIS SHOW RULES.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
The Bachelorette: This is going to be a very exciting season!
Hi guys! Time for another season of the Bachelorette! This time, we've got TWICE THE EXCITEMENT because Britt and Kaitlyn from last season must first compete to see who will have a chance at love and happiness this year! ABC is also doing some things differently because instead of our usual LA mansion, the girls will be greeting the lucky guys by GORATHAG, the Hell Portal, site of the Deaths of the 10,000 and Gateway to the Screaming-Lands!
Let's meet our contestants! First up is THOROCK THE DESTROYER.
Any joker can ride up in a limo and hop out and whatever. Not Thorock! He makes quite an entrance riding astride Gnargon, the Dark Beast. Is that Gnargon poop on the driveway?! Sorry, ABC!
Britt leans over to Kaitlyn. "He's cute," she coos. Thorock dismounts. "BEHOLD MORTALS, I AM THOROCK THE DESTROYER, EATER OF FLESH, DESTROYER OF CITIES, BRAVE MEN TREMBLE BEFORE MY GAZE."
Kaitlyn makes the first move! "Heyyyyyy," she says, "Are those horns real?"
"I HAVE TAKEN THIS FORM FOR 20,000 YEARS. MANY SOULS I HAVE IMPALED ON THESE HORNS. I AM THOROCK," Thorock says. Was Britt rolling her eyes a little? "Nice to meet you Thorock," Kaitlyn says. "I look forward to getting to know you."
"I AM THOROCK," Thorock says.
Here comes a limo! It's our next contestant, DEAD TED BUNDY IN HELL. He hops out of the limo wearing a cast on his arm. Kaitlyn and Britt exchange nervous glances.
"Hey there!," says Dead Ted Bundy in Hell. "Can one of you ladies help me put these groceries in the car?"
Kaitlyn and Britt look at each other knowingly. "Isn't that a ploy you used to lure unsuspecting young women into your car so you could abduct and murder them?," says Britt. "Come on, Dead Ted Bundy in Hell, we weren't born yesterday!"
Dead Ted Bundy in Hell cracks a sheepish smile and takes off the fake cast. "You got me, you got me," he chuckles. "But seriously, you are both so beautiful! I would hate to have to choose one of you to kill I mean date." He heads into the house. "I like him," says Kaitlyn.
Another limo! The door opens but it doesn't look like anyone gets out. Wait a minute, I can sort of see him, it's a Vaporous Sentient Mist! He blows over towards Kaitlyn and Britt. "Oh wow, nice to meet you, Vaporous Sentient Mist!," says Britt. The Mist pauses in midair, then blows inside. Britt cups a hand to the side of her mouth and stage-whispers "SO. SKINNY." at Kaitlyn.
Next up is BRAD, 28, an accountant from Missoula, Montana. "Good evening, ladies," he says. "I'd like to see both of you on my balance sheet!" Kaitlyn giggles and gives Brad a peck on the cheek. We later hear his screams from inside the house as Thorock dismembers him and feeds him to Gnargon the Dark Beast.
Here comes the next contestant! Wait, it's just a dog walking up! I didn't know you could bring dogs on the show! Oh, wow, it's ROODLES, THE TALKING DOG! "'Sup," says Roodles. "WOW!," says Kaitlyn, "Are you like an actual talking dog?"
"The fuck do you think?," says Roodles. "I'm fucking talking. I'm a fucking dog. Do the math. Jesus Christ. Where's the fucking bar."
"We'll have to see about him," says Kaitlyn.
OK, now, as you might have heard, there's kind of a twist this year, because Kaitlyn and Britt BOTH can't be the Bachelorette so instead we've devised a contest of sorts - a fight in the Ring of Death! Kaitlyn will be given the trident and net, and Britt the shortsword and shield. I think, assuming Britt can keep the flowing crimson blood out of her eyes, she's got a real chance. Kaitlyn's never shown much promise with the long weapons. STAY TUNED.
Let's meet our contestants! First up is THOROCK THE DESTROYER.
Any joker can ride up in a limo and hop out and whatever. Not Thorock! He makes quite an entrance riding astride Gnargon, the Dark Beast. Is that Gnargon poop on the driveway?! Sorry, ABC!
Britt leans over to Kaitlyn. "He's cute," she coos. Thorock dismounts. "BEHOLD MORTALS, I AM THOROCK THE DESTROYER, EATER OF FLESH, DESTROYER OF CITIES, BRAVE MEN TREMBLE BEFORE MY GAZE."
Kaitlyn makes the first move! "Heyyyyyy," she says, "Are those horns real?"
"I HAVE TAKEN THIS FORM FOR 20,000 YEARS. MANY SOULS I HAVE IMPALED ON THESE HORNS. I AM THOROCK," Thorock says. Was Britt rolling her eyes a little? "Nice to meet you Thorock," Kaitlyn says. "I look forward to getting to know you."
"I AM THOROCK," Thorock says.
Here comes a limo! It's our next contestant, DEAD TED BUNDY IN HELL. He hops out of the limo wearing a cast on his arm. Kaitlyn and Britt exchange nervous glances.
"Hey there!," says Dead Ted Bundy in Hell. "Can one of you ladies help me put these groceries in the car?"
Kaitlyn and Britt look at each other knowingly. "Isn't that a ploy you used to lure unsuspecting young women into your car so you could abduct and murder them?," says Britt. "Come on, Dead Ted Bundy in Hell, we weren't born yesterday!"
Dead Ted Bundy in Hell cracks a sheepish smile and takes off the fake cast. "You got me, you got me," he chuckles. "But seriously, you are both so beautiful! I would hate to have to choose one of you to kill I mean date." He heads into the house. "I like him," says Kaitlyn.
Another limo! The door opens but it doesn't look like anyone gets out. Wait a minute, I can sort of see him, it's a Vaporous Sentient Mist! He blows over towards Kaitlyn and Britt. "Oh wow, nice to meet you, Vaporous Sentient Mist!," says Britt. The Mist pauses in midair, then blows inside. Britt cups a hand to the side of her mouth and stage-whispers "SO. SKINNY." at Kaitlyn.
Next up is BRAD, 28, an accountant from Missoula, Montana. "Good evening, ladies," he says. "I'd like to see both of you on my balance sheet!" Kaitlyn giggles and gives Brad a peck on the cheek. We later hear his screams from inside the house as Thorock dismembers him and feeds him to Gnargon the Dark Beast.
Here comes the next contestant! Wait, it's just a dog walking up! I didn't know you could bring dogs on the show! Oh, wow, it's ROODLES, THE TALKING DOG! "'Sup," says Roodles. "WOW!," says Kaitlyn, "Are you like an actual talking dog?"
"The fuck do you think?," says Roodles. "I'm fucking talking. I'm a fucking dog. Do the math. Jesus Christ. Where's the fucking bar."
"We'll have to see about him," says Kaitlyn.
OK, now, as you might have heard, there's kind of a twist this year, because Kaitlyn and Britt BOTH can't be the Bachelorette so instead we've devised a contest of sorts - a fight in the Ring of Death! Kaitlyn will be given the trident and net, and Britt the shortsword and shield. I think, assuming Britt can keep the flowing crimson blood out of her eyes, she's got a real chance. Kaitlyn's never shown much promise with the long weapons. STAY TUNED.
Labels:
holy matrimony,
Mr. Dogg,
scary,
The Bachelorette in Hell,
TV
Thursday, February 12, 2015
HEADLINES ARE ALWAYS MISLEADING!!!! I mean, don't believe everything you read.
Have you heard about MEASLES PARTIES!!!??!! It's all the rage in clueless Marin County, where Uber-privileged parents who refuse to vaccinate their children are INTENTIONALLY exposing them to measles so they'll get the disease and be done with it!
It made for a great story because it played on a current fear (measles spreading as a result of non-vaccinated kids) and allowed us to look down on a privileged group (dopey Marin parents who don't vaccinate).
It smelled like bullshit from the beginning to me. Here's the Ur-story where it all started, "Health Officials Discourage ‘Measles Parties’." And here's our key section:
That's it. The "reporter" made no effort to contact this mysterious "friend" or otherwise verify this story. Instead, she just ran with it. Measles parties! Makes for a great story. Of course it all turned out to be BS.
In other PANIC!!!!! news, there was this tweet from SF Weekly:
So the Hemlock itself foresees ongoing live music into 2021. But I guess "Yikes! Hemlock Tavern may only have live music for the next 6 years" isn't as catchy a headline.
On a lighter note, and not to mercilessly rag on SF Weekly, but this:
A doggie fashion show is the opposite of "Only in San Francisco." Not because it's so normie it makes clip-on earrings look like scarrification, but because they have doggie fashion shows in Pittsburgh, PA, Scottsdale, AZ, Providence RI, Somerville, Massacusetts, and probably any other city with at least two Pomeranians and two crazy people who like to dress them up. A tech douche fashion show might be "Only in San Francisco," but a doggie fashion show most certainly is not.
It made for a great story because it played on a current fear (measles spreading as a result of non-vaccinated kids) and allowed us to look down on a privileged group (dopey Marin parents who don't vaccinate).
It smelled like bullshit from the beginning to me. Here's the Ur-story where it all started, "Health Officials Discourage ‘Measles Parties’." And here's our key section:
She was approached recently by a friend who knew her kids were unvaccinated. The friend offered to help set up a play date with another child who was sick.
“She said, ‘I know someone who has the measles, would you like to be connected with them?’” Schiffman said.
That's it. The "reporter" made no effort to contact this mysterious "friend" or otherwise verify this story. Instead, she just ran with it. Measles parties! Makes for a great story. Of course it all turned out to be BS.
In other PANIC!!!!! news, there was this tweet from SF Weekly:
Yikes! Hemlock Tavern's days may be numbered http://t.co/JKo3b5EX83
— SF Weekly (@SFWeekly) February 10, 2015
I guess all our days are numbered, so it's not really news. Eventually the Sun will expand to envelop our planet and the Hemlock and every other venue will host its last show. But for a music scene reeling from the loss of venue after venue, this seemed like terrible news! Unless you read the article.Anthony Bedard, the Hemlock's longtime booker (not to mention a staple of the city's punk scene and the man behind the genius Twitter account Folder Rock) echoed that statement in an email to SF Weekly. "The Hemlock has an ironclad lease that runs through the summer of 2021," he wrote. "After that, it's within the realm of possibility that the building owner may opt to not renew our lease."
So the Hemlock itself foresees ongoing live music into 2021. But I guess "Yikes! Hemlock Tavern may only have live music for the next 6 years" isn't as catchy a headline.
On a lighter note, and not to mercilessly rag on SF Weekly, but this:
Only in San Francisco: A doggie fashion show http://t.co/6GRdu9i0Hr
— SF Weekly (@SFWeekly) February 9, 2015
"Only in San Francisco" used to mean something. Like when you saw something so outrageous or unconventional you couldn't imagine it existing in any other city. Like, "Oh, I'm off to my Vegan Polyamorous Texas Hold 'Em Meditation Group." "Only in San Francisco!" A doggie fashion show is the opposite of "Only in San Francisco." Not because it's so normie it makes clip-on earrings look like scarrification, but because they have doggie fashion shows in Pittsburgh, PA, Scottsdale, AZ, Providence RI, Somerville, Massacusetts, and probably any other city with at least two Pomeranians and two crazy people who like to dress them up. A tech douche fashion show might be "Only in San Francisco," but a doggie fashion show most certainly is not.
Labels:
absurd overreaction,
crappy journalism,
Mr. Dogg,
music
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
My favorite tweets of 2014
Once is an incident; twice is a trend. Three times is a tradition. Welcome to TK's Top Tweets of 2014.
Time to go, 2014. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here.
2014 could've been better... pic.twitter.com/fOxJAFwDtg
— Will Menaker (@willmenaker) December 26, 2014
It's hard to say any year totally sucked when you have a kid because they light up your life and give you hope to carry on etc but 2014 was kind of a garbage year. Between everyone in our family dying including the fucking DOG and the world pretty much going to shit what with the police brutality and the Isis and what have you I'm not sad to see it go.
It's mind boggling that we trained a seal to kill Osama Bin Laden.
— Bert (@BertCarrillo) December 1, 2014
Nevertheless there were good parts and these tweets are part of the good parts.
Ma'am I'm doing everything I can pic.twitter.com/7xy0g9FWKg
— White V Black Twitta (@WhiteVsBlackTwt) November 18, 2014
"You promise you didn't get me bees again"
[me from a distance] just open it
— Cat Damon (@CornOnTheGoblin) November 11, 2014
"Did we do good, Barry?"
Real good Joe
"Tell me bout congress Barry"
Democrats far as the eye can see
[Obama raises gun behind Biden's head]
— acetaminofun (@crylenol) November 5, 2014
Harold Reynolds doing World Series analysis... pic.twitter.com/1fk2SE8hOo
— Daren Willman (@darenw) October 27, 2014
JESUS: now, I'll turn water into wine
GUY: misdirection. the wine's up his sleeve
JESUS: don't—Luke, don't write that. this doesn't go in
— acetaminofun (@crylenol) October 3, 2014
TOGETHER WE CANT EVEN
— Dan Jackson (@DanJackson415) September 26, 2014
I actually went to look up what was happening with the Giants on Sept. 25 that made Dan tweet this, which perfectly summarized a season that was beyond frustrating right up until they won the fucking World Series. The Giants were playing the Padres and were up 6-0, then gave up 8 runs in the 6th and 7th innings. My forensic analysis of the timestamp on this tweet leads me to believe that's when Dan sent this out. As it happens, the Giants then came back, scored 3 runs in the bottom of the 7th, and clinched a playoff spot. Unbelievable.
Opening a new cocktail bar with @cdouble2073 called "the motherfuckin hood tho" serving only $14 drinks and lite bar fare. White folks only
— Richie Nakano (@linecook) August 22, 2014
who the fuck sac bunts in the little league world series SMH
— Lindsey Adler (@Lahlahlindsey) August 15, 2014
i'm beginning to regret my subscription to The Ominous Times pic.twitter.com/IHQ9JIaV9Q
— MarkusJ (@MarkusJ) August 7, 2014
How the hell we supposed to trust Atlanta to keep ebola quarantined when Gucci Mane released 8 mixtapes from jail?
— Larry Beyince (@DragonflyJonez) August 1, 2014
*Jaden Smith in school
*raises hand
Teacher: yes?
Jaden: How Can Mirrors Be Real If-
Teacher: Jaden I swear 2 god I will get u expelled
— ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ (@YungOutline) June 16, 2014
REPORTER: Mr. President, what's your favorite Wu Tang album?
OBAMA: What kind of question is --
[biden grabs podium]
BIDEN: LIQUID SWORDS
— blupman (@blippoblappo) April 26, 2014
Every eHarmony ad looks like they do a good job of matching up 6's.
— Saucy Peeps (@saucypeeps) March 11, 2014
FYI those little crosses along the interstate aren't for squirrel crucifixions. I was wrong. The article I wrote about this was wrong.
— Jason Miller (@longwall26) March 4, 2014
Philz is playing Sugar Ray, which is having the same effect on customers as filling the place with bear spray.
— Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) February 28, 2014
@linecook Ramen is a flat circle, if you look from the top. We are all eating noodles in eternity forever. Yellow King add-on $4.
— Andrew Dalton (@dolftown) February 20, 2014
THE YEAR IS 2016. FACEBOOK DOWN FOR TWO YEARS NOW. AMERICA'S NEW MOMS ROAM THE STREETS. IS MY BABY PRETTY? THEY SAY. PLEASE LIKE MY BABY.
— Mark Agee (@MarkAgee) August 1, 2014
This is the worst analysis of anything ever written in history http://t.co/XrZ1KamPcV pic.twitter.com/WYUJ1hB5qh
— Julia Carrie Wong (@juliacarriew) August 23, 2014
If there was any better summary of San Francisco in 2014 than a techie's Mom writing to tell seniors and the disabled to get the fuck out of the way of her son's road to wealth, I can't imagine what it was.
Labels:
bezbol,
Mr. Dogg,
power rankings,
reproducing,
scary,
SF,
top tw--ts
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
R.I.P. Dog
Leland was a cream-colored chihuahua-terrier mix. That's what it said on his Rocket Dog Rescue info sheet, anyway. I guess he could just be "white" but "cream" sounds nicer, doesn't it? Rocket Dog got him from a shelter in Los Banos and then gave him to us. The first time he came to our house for an audition he promptly pooped in the hallway, twice. I think he was just nervous. We still took him.
Leland loved the beach a lot. He also loved Bernal Hill and Stern Grove and McLaren Park and a good sunny spot.
He would throw back his head and howl along with you if you got close to him and went "WOOOOOOO." He also flipped the fuck out if anyone rang the doorbell. The first time the doorbell rings and I don't hear maniacal barking is going to be tough.
Leland slept in bed, under the covers, on his back or on his side, pressed up against The Wife like a hot water bottle. He would chase toys and bring them back to you, but only inside. Chasing toys is a private activity.
Leland got lymphoma and we have to put him to sleep today. He's been a part of our life for so long it's hard to imagine it without him. No more dog-shaped indentations in the pillows on the bed. No more dog hovering by the baby's high chair, waiting for her to drop food to him. No more lying in the sun. No more trips to the beach.
We love you, little guy. Thanks for always being there for us. Thanks for being such a good dog.
Leland loved the beach a lot. He also loved Bernal Hill and Stern Grove and McLaren Park and a good sunny spot.
He would throw back his head and howl along with you if you got close to him and went "WOOOOOOO." He also flipped the fuck out if anyone rang the doorbell. The first time the doorbell rings and I don't hear maniacal barking is going to be tough.
Leland slept in bed, under the covers, on his back or on his side, pressed up against The Wife like a hot water bottle. He would chase toys and bring them back to you, but only inside. Chasing toys is a private activity.
Leland got lymphoma and we have to put him to sleep today. He's been a part of our life for so long it's hard to imagine it without him. No more dog-shaped indentations in the pillows on the bed. No more dog hovering by the baby's high chair, waiting for her to drop food to him. No more lying in the sun. No more trips to the beach.
We love you, little guy. Thanks for always being there for us. Thanks for being such a good dog.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
It's been a strange few days
Sunday night we had some friends over for dinner and Jessica was holding our dog and noticed that his lymph nodes were swollen. He'd been acting lethargic too, and it was worrying enough that I took him to the VCA Animal ER on Monday, Memorial Day.
ASIDE: If you ever need emergency care for your pet, go to VCA at 18th and Alabama. They were absolutely great.
The vet felt around and said it was lymphoma. I wasn't really processing it and was like, "What's lymphoma?" Lymphoma turns out to be cancer and it's incurable and basically now my dog is going to die. We're working on treatment options with our regular vet but it doesn't look great.
So that was Monday! On Tuesday, we found out that my Dad's cancer, which we thought had mostly gone away, had metastasized and is now all over and it's pretty bad and my sister and I are flying to be with him on Friday.
My Dog and My Dad Have Cancer! It's a country song. Except it's real.
I'm not putting all this out there in a shameless ploy to get your sympathy, but more by way of explanation about why I probably won't be blogging for a while, or if I do, it's probably going to be pretty depressing.
I'm gonna need some whiskey
Cause I feel pretty blue
My Daddy got the cancer
And now my dog does too
I guess I'll work on the lyrics some more.
Oh, one funny story at least has come out of this so far. Last week my Dad was doing some testing to check for brain cancer I guess and our half-sister sent my sister a text and she looked at her phone and it said "Dad has passed" and then she clicked on it and the rest of it said "his cognitive testing with flying colors!" And the moral of the story is BE VERY CAREFUL HOW YOU PHRASE YOUR TEXT MESSAGES.
ASIDE: If you ever need emergency care for your pet, go to VCA at 18th and Alabama. They were absolutely great.
The vet felt around and said it was lymphoma. I wasn't really processing it and was like, "What's lymphoma?" Lymphoma turns out to be cancer and it's incurable and basically now my dog is going to die. We're working on treatment options with our regular vet but it doesn't look great.
| I just found out I have cancer. Does this is any way get me more treats? |
So that was Monday! On Tuesday, we found out that my Dad's cancer, which we thought had mostly gone away, had metastasized and is now all over and it's pretty bad and my sister and I are flying to be with him on Friday.
My Dog and My Dad Have Cancer! It's a country song. Except it's real.
I'm not putting all this out there in a shameless ploy to get your sympathy, but more by way of explanation about why I probably won't be blogging for a while, or if I do, it's probably going to be pretty depressing.
I'm gonna need some whiskey
Cause I feel pretty blue
My Daddy got the cancer
And now my dog does too
I guess I'll work on the lyrics some more.
Oh, one funny story at least has come out of this so far. Last week my Dad was doing some testing to check for brain cancer I guess and our half-sister sent my sister a text and she looked at her phone and it said "Dad has passed" and then she clicked on it and the rest of it said "his cognitive testing with flying colors!" And the moral of the story is BE VERY CAREFUL HOW YOU PHRASE YOUR TEXT MESSAGES.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
The Bachelor: Don't Fuck on the First Date
Here we are in Vietnam and I can’t even make any Vietnam War jokes because I already did that once and also because it has now been longer since the Vietnam War ended than it was between World War II and the 80's and no one on this show or probably reading this was even alive when the Vietnam War happened. Anyway, there was an unpopular war in Vietnam a long time ago and then a lot of people won Oscars as a result.
OK, back to the show. Mom Renee gets the first One-on-Whan™ and for some reason this news makes her “palms hurt.” Hmmm, our first recorded case of Bachelor Stigmata. Hail Renee Full of Hair Product Blessed Art Thou Above All Soccer Moms. Their date is in the charming Vietnamese town of Hoi An and Whan “can’t wait to make her enjoy the day.” FUCKING SOAK UP THE ATMOSPHERE BITCH. DO WHAT I SAY. DO IT NOW. Oh, check it out! Vietnamese dogs are super cute!
So they stop by some fabric shop or something to get a dress made for her I guess? Mom thinks this is “fascinating” and “amazing” but I would describe it more as “boring” or “really boring” or “still boring.” There’s the usual walking around and buying a racist coolie hat for Mom’s kid. For the Night Segment, Mom is wearing her new dress to Indoor Dinner. Blah blah blah she got married young and they grew apart. Whan thinks her eyes are “full of life” which I guess is good and he gives her a rose and then they’re out lighting candles in Chinese takeout containers and putting them in the water and making a wish. My wish would be “Please don’t let this fucking thing drift under this flimsy wooden pier and burn us all to death.”
Group Date wherein Whan says we are going to do “very traditional Vietnamese –” and here he pauses – “Things.” Yes, things! This means getting in some wooden bowls and paddling around which is mostly an excuse to make out with Clare. Then it’s off to the community gardens to PICK SOME PRODUCE! Hopefully they’re making 60 cents an hour and getting doused with carcinogenic pesticide for the real immersion experience. Anyway, after dinner (Vietnamese food, I’m guessing), there’s supposed to be a cocktail party but it’s mostly just Whan hanging out in his hot tub with Clare. Once again, his “No Kissing” policy appears to be somewhat flexible, because he and Clare and slobbering into each other’s mouths like Saint Bernards. Back with the chicks, Seriousleen, as usual, is being kind of a downer and wants him to see her “as a panda in a room full of brown bears.” OK then. Clare ends up with the rose and then shows up at his room in the middle of the night and I think they’re hinting that they hit it or something. God, you do not want to knock Clare up. Hairstylist. Sacramento. I don’t think I need to say anything else.
Rootsy One on One! I think she got a Vietnamese touchup because the roots actually don’t look as aggressively black. Anyway, this is going to be one of those Adventure Dates where we rappel down into a cave that is literally named “Hell.” That’s some dynamic branding! As with all Adventure Dates that you’re not personally on, it’s boring. We’re back topside for Night Portion and the true Hell here is what Vietnam is doing to Rootsy’s hair. She’s on and on about pediatric nursing which is actually kind of a downer tbh. She gets the rose and some face kissing and is “electrified” like she “stuck her finger in a light socket” and I’m not sure I want her pediatric nursing my kid.
The ladies arrive for the Cocktail Party carefully arranged on a boat. There is shocking news! We are cutting 3 tonight. That is not good for Maybe Black Danielle, who has gotten less screen time than Anonymous Vietnamese Produce Family. Whan gets busy making out with Mom and his No Kissing Rules are now beyond comprehension. Oh, a sit-down with Clare! He says “Maybe it wasn’t right, but what happened happened.” I guess they did it! He doesn't want his daughter to know. Gee, maybe don’t tell her then? C is now crying and Whan’s talking her down like he does every episode. This is boring.
Rose Cer. Whan starts by gazing meaningfully at his Serial Killer Shrine of Ladies.
THREE MUST DIE TONIGHT the voice in his head says. Who’s in? Seriousleen, NBA Progeny Bearer…..
LAZY EYE REPORT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Only a little sleepy.
OK, back to it. ChelsieWOOOOO, Kat, Andi Who Needs to Stop Bitching All The Time.
ADIOS Lazy Eyes, Alison (I think?) and Maybe Black Danielle. No surprises there. Hopefully the next episode is better because this one failed to move me.
OK, back to the show. Mom Renee gets the first One-on-Whan™ and for some reason this news makes her “palms hurt.” Hmmm, our first recorded case of Bachelor Stigmata. Hail Renee Full of Hair Product Blessed Art Thou Above All Soccer Moms. Their date is in the charming Vietnamese town of Hoi An and Whan “can’t wait to make her enjoy the day.” FUCKING SOAK UP THE ATMOSPHERE BITCH. DO WHAT I SAY. DO IT NOW. Oh, check it out! Vietnamese dogs are super cute!
So they stop by some fabric shop or something to get a dress made for her I guess? Mom thinks this is “fascinating” and “amazing” but I would describe it more as “boring” or “really boring” or “still boring.” There’s the usual walking around and buying a racist coolie hat for Mom’s kid. For the Night Segment, Mom is wearing her new dress to Indoor Dinner. Blah blah blah she got married young and they grew apart. Whan thinks her eyes are “full of life” which I guess is good and he gives her a rose and then they’re out lighting candles in Chinese takeout containers and putting them in the water and making a wish. My wish would be “Please don’t let this fucking thing drift under this flimsy wooden pier and burn us all to death.”
| I realize this is a terrible picture. |
Group Date wherein Whan says we are going to do “very traditional Vietnamese –” and here he pauses – “Things.” Yes, things! This means getting in some wooden bowls and paddling around which is mostly an excuse to make out with Clare. Then it’s off to the community gardens to PICK SOME PRODUCE! Hopefully they’re making 60 cents an hour and getting doused with carcinogenic pesticide for the real immersion experience. Anyway, after dinner (Vietnamese food, I’m guessing), there’s supposed to be a cocktail party but it’s mostly just Whan hanging out in his hot tub with Clare. Once again, his “No Kissing” policy appears to be somewhat flexible, because he and Clare and slobbering into each other’s mouths like Saint Bernards. Back with the chicks, Seriousleen, as usual, is being kind of a downer and wants him to see her “as a panda in a room full of brown bears.” OK then. Clare ends up with the rose and then shows up at his room in the middle of the night and I think they’re hinting that they hit it or something. God, you do not want to knock Clare up. Hairstylist. Sacramento. I don’t think I need to say anything else.
Rootsy One on One! I think she got a Vietnamese touchup because the roots actually don’t look as aggressively black. Anyway, this is going to be one of those Adventure Dates where we rappel down into a cave that is literally named “Hell.” That’s some dynamic branding! As with all Adventure Dates that you’re not personally on, it’s boring. We’re back topside for Night Portion and the true Hell here is what Vietnam is doing to Rootsy’s hair. She’s on and on about pediatric nursing which is actually kind of a downer tbh. She gets the rose and some face kissing and is “electrified” like she “stuck her finger in a light socket” and I’m not sure I want her pediatric nursing my kid.
The ladies arrive for the Cocktail Party carefully arranged on a boat. There is shocking news! We are cutting 3 tonight. That is not good for Maybe Black Danielle, who has gotten less screen time than Anonymous Vietnamese Produce Family. Whan gets busy making out with Mom and his No Kissing Rules are now beyond comprehension. Oh, a sit-down with Clare! He says “Maybe it wasn’t right, but what happened happened.” I guess they did it! He doesn't want his daughter to know. Gee, maybe don’t tell her then? C is now crying and Whan’s talking her down like he does every episode. This is boring.
Rose Cer. Whan starts by gazing meaningfully at his Serial Killer Shrine of Ladies.
THREE MUST DIE TONIGHT the voice in his head says. Who’s in? Seriousleen, NBA Progeny Bearer…..
LAZY EYE REPORT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Only a little sleepy.
OK, back to it. ChelsieWOOOOO, Kat, Andi Who Needs to Stop Bitching All The Time.
ADIOS Lazy Eyes, Alison (I think?) and Maybe Black Danielle. No surprises there. Hopefully the next episode is better because this one failed to move me.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
The Bachelor: It's Victoria O'Clock Somewhere!
This episode will be full of surprising departures. Beginning with the fucking dog, who has decided to swim to safety and abandon this shitshow.
Swim, dog! SWIM TO FREEDOM!!!!
Hairstylist Clare gets the first date apparently. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE DATE CARD. Getting a little free with the editing, huh ABC? We need our establishing shit. Anyway, Whan blindfolds her and puts her in a car. That's how the Cali Cartel does it too! This date will apparently end with a burning tire around Clare's neck. The Abduction Limo delivers W & C to - what, a Christmas tree lot? A ski resort? ABC is so completely out of date idea now that anything some PA drunkenly mumbles gets made into a date. "Winter wonderland! That's a date!" Whatever. It's no winter wonderland for girlfriend's hair, I'll tell you that much. MEOW. Wait, what did he say? "Looking at her smiling is better than living in a box?" Oh, a "million bucks." A ploos on the English Whan.
Following some ice moving, it's over to the Hot Spring TM spa for some relaxing and WHOA CLARE GOT HER DADDY ISSUES ALL OVER THE SPA. That's gonna leave a stain. Basically Clare's Dad cured cancer on his way to the Moon carrying an orphan and a puppy on his back and if you can't do that, you will not get far with Clare. After some lightweight kissing ("You taste like snow" she says - CALI CARTEL I'M TELLING YOU) they are treated to some sensitive guitar playing by a fat guy with a beard. HOTT.
OK next up is Kat who is V V V EXCITED. Kat open mouth laughs a lot and I bet she's a good drunk. They board a private plane and are whisked to - wait for it - SALT LAKE CITY!!!! Nothing says fun like Salt Lake City. I guess Cleveland was busy. Anyway, K is furnished with a neon raver outfit and they're going to something called the Electric Run which is a real thing? Oh, it's the "World's Premier Nighttime 5k run/walk experience." What it looks like is the World's Premier Exercise Rave For Idiots.
Anyway, he gives her a rose onstage and the only thing that would make this bearable is about 3 tabs of X which you probably can't get in Utah anyway. Utah.
Let's move on. Group Date! Hey, guess what? In a first for the Bachelor, Doglvr Kelly has not one but TWO lazy eyes!
Maybe "Science Educator" Chelsie can explain this anomaly once she comes down from whatever the fuck she's on. Anyway, they are going to some kind of photo shoot when a man with a neon blue beard appears and tells them they have all been dosed with 100 micrograms of blotter acid and to find a buddy quick because the next 8 hours are going to be super intense. Oh wait, PUPPIES!!!! It's a "sexy photoshoot with the dogs." This requires costuming. Kelly dresses up as What Happens When a Meth Lab Explodes Onto Someone Wearing Blackface.
The 1st Grade Teacher is assigned Getting Naked With a Cardboard Sign but she smartly switches with Free Spirit Lucy, who would get buck for half a Bud Light and a handful of M&Ms. Lady Lawyer Andi isn't so sure about the naked thing either but Whan talks her down and they pose with Free Spirit who seems to think this is Hustler and not Dog Rescue.
The Afterparty finds us all in sparkly dresses at the Usual Bachelor LA Rooftop Pool. TIME FOR SOME FUCKING DRINKS. Former NBA Dancer Cassandra has to come out as a parent. She has a kid named Trey because of course. Dad?
OK let's get to my girl Victoria. Girlfriend is on the champagne like a lab rat on the cocaine switch. She is dancing around in her bikini and spring breaking all over the rooftop and she is SO ALIVE. Here she comes creeping on Whan and Pediatric Nurse.
WHOOOOOOO!!!! SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!!!!!!
Then it's off to the bathroom for a good cry & decompensating. Mom Renee tries to comfort her as she weeps next to the toilet. Oh, now she tells Bon Iver she's going home! ENOUGH OF YOUR SHIT BACHELOR SHOW!!! So Whan gives the Rooftop Pool Rose to Lazy Eyes, for some reason. The fuck did she do? WHY ISN'T VICTORIA GETTING THAT ROSE?
Dawn breaks at the Ladies House. Everyone is already bikini'd and discussing Vicky Cristina Barfelona. Oh, she got to stay in a hotel last night! JP goes to see her and I think she's still drunk and she's all "Sorry about last night" but he fires her and what I want more than anything is for ABC to send out a camera crew to follow Vicks around. THAT'S THE SHOW I WANT TO SEE.
Pre Rose Cer. Newshound Amy does a painful faux reporter thing. HERE'S WHAT WE DO KNOW. YOU LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT. Wait, who's coming apart at the seams now? Cassandra? What is the fucking problem? Good thing Mom Renee is here to gently stroke anyone's hair who needs it. Anyway, now Whan has to talk her down too. Here's my advice, Whan: pick one of the chicks who doesn't need to be talked off a ledge every 5 minutes.
OK, Rose Cer. You're right, Whan! It has been a berry good week. OK, who's in. NBA dancer, Brown Roots Nikki, The Lawyer Who Hates Being Naked, Too Smiley Elise, Don't Really Care Opera Singer, Everyone's Mom, Maybe Black Danielle, Free Spirit, Who the Fuck Is Alison, Turned Up to 1000 Chelsie, Somebody Named Lauren I Think and Kristie the Stripper. Sorry Black Chantel and News Team 7 Amy! OUR LEAD STORY TONIGHT: YOU ARE DUMPED.
Anyway, he gives her a rose onstage and the only thing that would make this bearable is about 3 tabs of X which you probably can't get in Utah anyway. Utah.
Let's move on. Group Date! Hey, guess what? In a first for the Bachelor, Doglvr Kelly has not one but TWO lazy eyes!
Maybe "Science Educator" Chelsie can explain this anomaly once she comes down from whatever the fuck she's on. Anyway, they are going to some kind of photo shoot when a man with a neon blue beard appears and tells them they have all been dosed with 100 micrograms of blotter acid and to find a buddy quick because the next 8 hours are going to be super intense. Oh wait, PUPPIES!!!! It's a "sexy photoshoot with the dogs." This requires costuming. Kelly dresses up as What Happens When a Meth Lab Explodes Onto Someone Wearing Blackface.
The 1st Grade Teacher is assigned Getting Naked With a Cardboard Sign but she smartly switches with Free Spirit Lucy, who would get buck for half a Bud Light and a handful of M&Ms. Lady Lawyer Andi isn't so sure about the naked thing either but Whan talks her down and they pose with Free Spirit who seems to think this is Hustler and not Dog Rescue.
The Afterparty finds us all in sparkly dresses at the Usual Bachelor LA Rooftop Pool. TIME FOR SOME FUCKING DRINKS. Former NBA Dancer Cassandra has to come out as a parent. She has a kid named Trey because of course. Dad?
OK let's get to my girl Victoria. Girlfriend is on the champagne like a lab rat on the cocaine switch. She is dancing around in her bikini and spring breaking all over the rooftop and she is SO ALIVE. Here she comes creeping on Whan and Pediatric Nurse.
WHOOOOOOO!!!! SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!!!!!!
Then it's off to the bathroom for a good cry & decompensating. Mom Renee tries to comfort her as she weeps next to the toilet. Oh, now she tells Bon Iver she's going home! ENOUGH OF YOUR SHIT BACHELOR SHOW!!! So Whan gives the Rooftop Pool Rose to Lazy Eyes, for some reason. The fuck did she do? WHY ISN'T VICTORIA GETTING THAT ROSE?
Dawn breaks at the Ladies House. Everyone is already bikini'd and discussing Vicky Cristina Barfelona. Oh, she got to stay in a hotel last night! JP goes to see her and I think she's still drunk and she's all "Sorry about last night" but he fires her and what I want more than anything is for ABC to send out a camera crew to follow Vicks around. THAT'S THE SHOW I WANT TO SEE.
Pre Rose Cer. Newshound Amy does a painful faux reporter thing. HERE'S WHAT WE DO KNOW. YOU LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT. Wait, who's coming apart at the seams now? Cassandra? What is the fucking problem? Good thing Mom Renee is here to gently stroke anyone's hair who needs it. Anyway, now Whan has to talk her down too. Here's my advice, Whan: pick one of the chicks who doesn't need to be talked off a ledge every 5 minutes.
OK, Rose Cer. You're right, Whan! It has been a berry good week. OK, who's in. NBA dancer, Brown Roots Nikki, The Lawyer Who Hates Being Naked, Too Smiley Elise, Don't Really Care Opera Singer, Everyone's Mom, Maybe Black Danielle, Free Spirit, Who the Fuck Is Alison, Turned Up to 1000 Chelsie, Somebody Named Lauren I Think and Kristie the Stripper. Sorry Black Chantel and News Team 7 Amy! OUR LEAD STORY TONIGHT: YOU ARE DUMPED.
Friday, April 26, 2013
In which I make a brief foray into baby blogging; also, a tipping question
You didn't think you were going to get off the hook completely, did you?
Baby Beyonce turned one month old yesterday. If you recall, getting here was something of a challenge. How have things been since? Let's take a look!
Babies from zero to one month old are essentially inefficient, milk-powered alarm clocks that you can't set or control in any way. They have two goals: sleeping and eating, and when the first one is completed you better be GODDAM SURE you're ready and available to assist with the second one. Since I don't lactate personally, The Wife takes care of most of the feeding beat - and she does it with aplomb and a resolute cheerfulness that is both reassuring and somewhat bizarre, at least to a crank like me - but occasionally I pitch in with a bottle here or there. Also, this kid can fucking eat. Born at 5 lbs 11 oz, she climbed through 7 pounds earlier this week, and shows no signs of slowing down. For now, anyway. I guess it slows down later or something.
The dog likes her, too.
What else? Before she was born, other people who already have kids would gravely warn me that I better get used to not sleeping. They love saying shit like "Better get sleep now! YOU'LL NEVER SLEEP AGAIN ONCE SHE'S BORN!" Well, you know what? It's all bullshit. People love to try and freak you out, and this is an example of that. I used to get 6 hours of sleep a night. I still do. It's just not CONSECUTIVE. Here's the actual, real deal, at least with Beyonce: she sleeps about 2-3 hours at a stretch, and then wakes up, demands SOME FUCKING FOOD RIGHT ABOUT NOW WHERE'S MY FOOD YOU BASTARDS and then goes back to sleep. So you're essentially up for an hour, then asleep for 2 or 3. No bigs.
All things considered, I have to say she's a pretty good kid. Anyway, we're way past the deadline to return her.
UNRELATED QUESTION: What do you tip the person who cuts your hair? Like, how much if the haircut is $50?
Sigh. Yes, my haircut costs $50, but I only get it cut once every 3 months, so it's really only $200 a year, which I bet is less than a lot of you people spend. I've been giving her $20 but now I'm thinking that seems like too much. That's, like, almost a 50% tip. That can't be right. Obviously, I can't go back down to $10 NOW, but I'm just curious what you guys think.
Baby Beyonce turned one month old yesterday. If you recall, getting here was something of a challenge. How have things been since? Let's take a look!
Babies from zero to one month old are essentially inefficient, milk-powered alarm clocks that you can't set or control in any way. They have two goals: sleeping and eating, and when the first one is completed you better be GODDAM SURE you're ready and available to assist with the second one. Since I don't lactate personally, The Wife takes care of most of the feeding beat - and she does it with aplomb and a resolute cheerfulness that is both reassuring and somewhat bizarre, at least to a crank like me - but occasionally I pitch in with a bottle here or there. Also, this kid can fucking eat. Born at 5 lbs 11 oz, she climbed through 7 pounds earlier this week, and shows no signs of slowing down. For now, anyway. I guess it slows down later or something.
The dog likes her, too.
What else? Before she was born, other people who already have kids would gravely warn me that I better get used to not sleeping. They love saying shit like "Better get sleep now! YOU'LL NEVER SLEEP AGAIN ONCE SHE'S BORN!" Well, you know what? It's all bullshit. People love to try and freak you out, and this is an example of that. I used to get 6 hours of sleep a night. I still do. It's just not CONSECUTIVE. Here's the actual, real deal, at least with Beyonce: she sleeps about 2-3 hours at a stretch, and then wakes up, demands SOME FUCKING FOOD RIGHT ABOUT NOW WHERE'S MY FOOD YOU BASTARDS and then goes back to sleep. So you're essentially up for an hour, then asleep for 2 or 3. No bigs.
All things considered, I have to say she's a pretty good kid. Anyway, we're way past the deadline to return her.
UNRELATED QUESTION: What do you tip the person who cuts your hair? Like, how much if the haircut is $50?
Sigh. Yes, my haircut costs $50, but I only get it cut once every 3 months, so it's really only $200 a year, which I bet is less than a lot of you people spend. I've been giving her $20 but now I'm thinking that seems like too much. That's, like, almost a 50% tip. That can't be right. Obviously, I can't go back down to $10 NOW, but I'm just curious what you guys think.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
The Bachelor: The Women Tell Next to Nothing, Bore the Shit Out of Us
Everyone agrees, including myself, that Ken Burns' "The Civil War" is a masterpiece of modern documentary filmmaking. I think I have watched the entire series all the way through twice, which takes only slightly less time than the actual Civil War. I was excited about watching it again with The Wife, who had never seen it, because she is from Another Country where they have their own shit going down. So one night we sat down and I hit play and BOOM she was out cold in less than five minutes. A few years later Ken Burns' series "The National Parks" came on and we began watching that and BOOM she's out again. Ken Burns has a particularly soporific effect on The Wife.
So it was for me with last night's "The Women Tell All, " the usual filler that airs every season just before the finale. Its origin and purpose remain murky, as it seems to exist only to take up space. Maybe editing the finale takes a long time? Anyway, last night I fell asleep at two different times while trying to watch this televised Sominex, so my notes are somewhat unclear.
I seem to remember Tierra getting trotted out at some point, yelled at, and then returned to her seat. Was there something about Sean and Chris Harrison dropping in on people watching the show? Did that happen? I think Desiree blamed her brother. AshLee thinks Sean told her that he didn't care about any other girls, but he says he didn't say that. Nobody cares.
The only possibly interesting thing that happened to me was that at around 7 pm, there was a sudden spike in traffic to this blog.
What the fuck? I did some checking and found out that a not-insubstantial number of people were arriving here after Googling various combinations of "magic", "dog", and "Bachelor", which was leading them to this post with "Magic" and "Bachelor" in the title and the word "dog" in the post. Well, as I found out at 10 pm Pacific time, the show concluded with a moving video tribute to Magic the dog, who apparently hung around the set until he or she died of boredom at some point this season. To better days, Magic.
NEXT WEEK: Finally this godawful season comes to an end. They've been teasing lots of shots of Sean at the Proposal Lectern reading some kind of letter and then staring meaningfully into middle distance. This is GUARANTEED to be disappointing when we actually find out what it is.
So it was for me with last night's "The Women Tell All, " the usual filler that airs every season just before the finale. Its origin and purpose remain murky, as it seems to exist only to take up space. Maybe editing the finale takes a long time? Anyway, last night I fell asleep at two different times while trying to watch this televised Sominex, so my notes are somewhat unclear.
I seem to remember Tierra getting trotted out at some point, yelled at, and then returned to her seat. Was there something about Sean and Chris Harrison dropping in on people watching the show? Did that happen? I think Desiree blamed her brother. AshLee thinks Sean told her that he didn't care about any other girls, but he says he didn't say that. Nobody cares.
The only possibly interesting thing that happened to me was that at around 7 pm, there was a sudden spike in traffic to this blog.
What the fuck? I did some checking and found out that a not-insubstantial number of people were arriving here after Googling various combinations of "magic", "dog", and "Bachelor", which was leading them to this post with "Magic" and "Bachelor" in the title and the word "dog" in the post. Well, as I found out at 10 pm Pacific time, the show concluded with a moving video tribute to Magic the dog, who apparently hung around the set until he or she died of boredom at some point this season. To better days, Magic.
NEXT WEEK: Finally this godawful season comes to an end. They've been teasing lots of shots of Sean at the Proposal Lectern reading some kind of letter and then staring meaningfully into middle distance. This is GUARANTEED to be disappointing when we actually find out what it is.
Labels:
big dumb sean,
Foreign policy,
holy matrimony,
internetz,
Mr. Dogg,
The Wife,
TV
Friday, November 16, 2012
Urban etiquette: Let's go to the grocery store!
It's almost Thanksgiving! That means record numbers of Americans will enter a grocery store. Or something. I mean, a lot of Americans go grocery shopping every week. Like me. Here are some tips to help you be less of an asshole while you're buying dry goods and/or Nutella.
1. Your dog doesn't want to go grocery shopping with you.
I love dogs! I have one. Everyone I know has one or two. They're the San Francisco version of children. They're especially San Francisco because you can bring them into some bars. Anyway, your dog doesn't want to go grocery shopping with you, so don't bring him/her. I swear, I see a lot more dogs in grocery stores these days. I'm starting to get used to it, which is worrying. If you need me to explain to you why you shouldn't bring your dog grocery shopping, we have already given up as a society.
2. Hey bitch, you're blocking the aisle with your cart while you mindlessly jabber away on your cell phone
This phenomenon, part of the broader problem of inconsiderate cell phone use, seems to be more prevalent at - HERE COMES A SHOCKER - the Marina Safeway, in my experience. Anyway, try to be at least a little mindful of the people around you? Okay? We can't see the Smuckers selection through you.
3. I am a real person with thoughts and feelings
True story: I am at the Church & Market Safeway selecting red peppers when a guy LITERALLY gets DIRECTLY in front of me and starts manhandling all the peppers. Like I was Patrick Swayze in Ghost. At first I thought he was joking and then I was just like "I'M NOT IN YOUR WAY AM I" and he looked up all startled but even this little bit of Public Shaming didn't deter him from his Rude Pepper Grasping.
So if someone is looking at some produce you want to look at too, WAIT FOR THEM TO MOVE AND THEN YOU CAN LOOK AT PRODUCE NEXT. Fuck.
4. I gather there are all kinds of different rules transgressions at Rainbow, but I practice basic hygiene and eat meat like a normal person so I never go there
If you have some juicy Rainbow breach of etiquette stories, post them in the comments, hippie.
5. The Whole Foods at Franklin and California is a vortex of misery and general dickish behavior. Don't ever go there.
6. Here's the big one: 15 ITEMS OR FEWER
You know who you are, you evil little shit. You count all boxed goods as one item or you think "Eh, 16, close enough." NOT CLOSE ENOUGH. Here's the rule: if it's all in one container, it's one item. Otherwise, it is MULTIPLE ITEMS. 12 apples in a bag? Cool bro, one item. 4 cans of Dinty Moore beef stew? FOUR ITEMS.
Needless to say, if you get in the 15-or-less line with more than 15 items, you are irredeemably evil and there is no place for you in society. Quit your job and go live under an overpass with the other sex offenders, you writhing piece of human garbage.
PROGRAMMING NOTE: As is our wont this time of year, we are off to the Old Country on Monday to Thanksgive with the extended fam. Blogging may be sporadic. In the meantime, enjoy the Thanksgiving Schedule I threw up in 2010 and which is still mostly true except I don't think we drink as much anymore. The Wife sure doesn't, what with the foetus and all! Anyway, have a nice whatever it is you do.
1. Your dog doesn't want to go grocery shopping with you.
I love dogs! I have one. Everyone I know has one or two. They're the San Francisco version of children. They're especially San Francisco because you can bring them into some bars. Anyway, your dog doesn't want to go grocery shopping with you, so don't bring him/her. I swear, I see a lot more dogs in grocery stores these days. I'm starting to get used to it, which is worrying. If you need me to explain to you why you shouldn't bring your dog grocery shopping, we have already given up as a society.
![]() |
| Look at the dog! With his little shopping cart! That's ridiculous. (Photo stolen from Darf Blog.) |
2. Hey bitch, you're blocking the aisle with your cart while you mindlessly jabber away on your cell phone
This phenomenon, part of the broader problem of inconsiderate cell phone use, seems to be more prevalent at - HERE COMES A SHOCKER - the Marina Safeway, in my experience. Anyway, try to be at least a little mindful of the people around you? Okay? We can't see the Smuckers selection through you.
3. I am a real person with thoughts and feelings
True story: I am at the Church & Market Safeway selecting red peppers when a guy LITERALLY gets DIRECTLY in front of me and starts manhandling all the peppers. Like I was Patrick Swayze in Ghost. At first I thought he was joking and then I was just like "I'M NOT IN YOUR WAY AM I" and he looked up all startled but even this little bit of Public Shaming didn't deter him from his Rude Pepper Grasping.
So if someone is looking at some produce you want to look at too, WAIT FOR THEM TO MOVE AND THEN YOU CAN LOOK AT PRODUCE NEXT. Fuck.
4. I gather there are all kinds of different rules transgressions at Rainbow, but I practice basic hygiene and eat meat like a normal person so I never go there
If you have some juicy Rainbow breach of etiquette stories, post them in the comments, hippie.
5. The Whole Foods at Franklin and California is a vortex of misery and general dickish behavior. Don't ever go there.
6. Here's the big one: 15 ITEMS OR FEWER
You know who you are, you evil little shit. You count all boxed goods as one item or you think "Eh, 16, close enough." NOT CLOSE ENOUGH. Here's the rule: if it's all in one container, it's one item. Otherwise, it is MULTIPLE ITEMS. 12 apples in a bag? Cool bro, one item. 4 cans of Dinty Moore beef stew? FOUR ITEMS.
Needless to say, if you get in the 15-or-less line with more than 15 items, you are irredeemably evil and there is no place for you in society. Quit your job and go live under an overpass with the other sex offenders, you writhing piece of human garbage.
PROGRAMMING NOTE: As is our wont this time of year, we are off to the Old Country on Monday to Thanksgive with the extended fam. Blogging may be sporadic. In the meantime, enjoy the Thanksgiving Schedule I threw up in 2010 and which is still mostly true except I don't think we drink as much anymore. The Wife sure doesn't, what with the foetus and all! Anyway, have a nice whatever it is you do.
Friday, August 31, 2012
TK's Day Trips: Del Valle Regional Park
Good morning! It's another shitty day in Arcticville!

Man, August has been a fucking drag. Every day it's foggy and fucking freezing and windy and all that shit. I know, I know, summer in San Francisco blah blah blah. It still sucks.
So last Saturday we finally were fed up and we piled the dog and some sandwiches into the car and drove about an hour and a half to Del Valle Regional Park, near Livermore. Guess what? It was delightful!

First of all, when we left the city it was around 58, 59, foggy and cold. When we arrived at DV, it was BRIGHT SUNSHINE and 75. We emerged from the car blinking in the bright light like fucking Mole People. The dog immediately started panting. He's part chihuahua and he's bred for this shit but he's not used to it now.
FEATURES: There's a big lake you can swim in. Canoes and kayaks and paddleboats available for rental. And a long off-leash dog trail that goes around the lake.

For a Saturday, it wasn't that crowded. I mean, the picnic areas were filling up by the time we got there at 11:30 am, but we only passed a few people on the trail around the lake. There was one big group in the shade singing what I took to be religious songs in a foreign language. So there's that.
It costs $6 to get in, plus $2 if you have a dog. I definitely recommend taking a dog.

So in conclusion, I would like to say:
DEL VALLE REGIONAL PARK! FEEL THE EXCITEMENT!
Or maybe
DEL VALLE REGIONAL PARK! IT'S PARK-TASTIC!!!
Or just
DEL VALLE REGIONAL PARK! IT'S NOT FUCKING FREEZING AND COLD LIKE SF! AND YOU MIGHT SEE SOME TRUCKS WITH TEA PARTY-TYPE BUMPERSTICKERS!
Srsly, if you want a good day trip this weekend, head out there. Super nice. Have a great holiday weekend! It's Labor Day! That's the most socialist holiday of all! TAKE THAT MITT ROMNEY!

Man, August has been a fucking drag. Every day it's foggy and fucking freezing and windy and all that shit. I know, I know, summer in San Francisco blah blah blah. It still sucks.
So last Saturday we finally were fed up and we piled the dog and some sandwiches into the car and drove about an hour and a half to Del Valle Regional Park, near Livermore. Guess what? It was delightful!
First of all, when we left the city it was around 58, 59, foggy and cold. When we arrived at DV, it was BRIGHT SUNSHINE and 75. We emerged from the car blinking in the bright light like fucking Mole People. The dog immediately started panting. He's part chihuahua and he's bred for this shit but he's not used to it now.
FEATURES: There's a big lake you can swim in. Canoes and kayaks and paddleboats available for rental. And a long off-leash dog trail that goes around the lake.
For a Saturday, it wasn't that crowded. I mean, the picnic areas were filling up by the time we got there at 11:30 am, but we only passed a few people on the trail around the lake. There was one big group in the shade singing what I took to be religious songs in a foreign language. So there's that.
It costs $6 to get in, plus $2 if you have a dog. I definitely recommend taking a dog.
So in conclusion, I would like to say:
DEL VALLE REGIONAL PARK! FEEL THE EXCITEMENT!
Or maybe
DEL VALLE REGIONAL PARK! IT'S PARK-TASTIC!!!
Or just
DEL VALLE REGIONAL PARK! IT'S NOT FUCKING FREEZING AND COLD LIKE SF! AND YOU MIGHT SEE SOME TRUCKS WITH TEA PARTY-TYPE BUMPERSTICKERS!
Srsly, if you want a good day trip this weekend, head out there. Super nice. Have a great holiday weekend! It's Labor Day! That's the most socialist holiday of all! TAKE THAT MITT ROMNEY!
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
The Bachelorette: Wouldn't it be awkward if someone's parents were homeless? What would they do then for hometown visits?
Just asking.
Final Four! Hometown visits! Shit's getting real! First we see Ems back in Charlotte and rushing home to Lil Rikki wearing.....wait, what the fuck? Some kind of death's head shirt?

Hi Rikki! So good to see you! Can't hear anything over your screams of terror! No, sweetie, it's not a monster! It's what's left after the skin is stripped from your face! Why are you crying?
Boring recap/Emily voiceover about the 4 who are left. Wait, Jef has a "little bit of an edge"? WTF? He's about as edgy as a bowling ball. I get the feeling a wild night for Jef might include some non-decaffeinated Celestial Seasonings and some Family Guy DVDs.
We kick off with Chris in Chicago. He comes out to her as Polish. Hey, what happened to Polish jokes? That was a thing when I was a kid. Another victim of political correctness! I need to contact a Republican about this. Anyway, after a brief pit stop in a Polish restaurant for beers, they're off to Hanover Park to meet the fam. Sturdy-looking Polish Dad, American Mom, and 2 cute enough sisters. Em wants to know if Chris is ready to be a father. Dad says "he will do his best." That should fill you with confidence! The crispier sister is a little worried and wants Em to dump Chris ASAP if he's not the one. FORESHADOWING. Oh, come on. You know what's coming. Hey, do you think Chris's perma-five-o-clock-shadow is planned or he just needs to shave? Oh Christ, surprise! There's a Polish band out back. Soon Chris will be polka-ing alone.
Next stop: St. George Utah, for Jef's "family ranch." Quite a spread they have there! After a little ride in some ATV thing, it's time for some target practice. Jef thinks Ems "looks so hot with a gun." Have I got a treat for Jef. On to meet Jef's family. Well, except for his parents, who couldn't be bothered to show up for this thing on national TV to meet their son's possible wife. Holy shit, there's a crapload of them. Wait, is that the lead singer from Smashmouth?

They're drinking lemonade! Ohhhhh, right, Mormons. That's a dealbreaker right there. Families are great and all, but without booze they're basically intolerable. Ems sits down for a group interview with the sisters. I don't know what's going on here but they all look like they have different parents. One looks like the homecoming queen and one looks like the mean girl from an 80's movie and one looks like Jonah Hill in a wig. Then Jef & E go hang out and he reads her some long thing he wrote. What's up this season with guys reading Emily these treatises on how much they love her? She's like the muse of mash notes.
NEXT. Arie in Scottsdale. Seriously, Scottsdale is like a Bachelor/ette Production Facility. There's always at least 3 or 4 from there. They take a spin in Arie's racecar and then it's off to meet everyone. Oh, shit, no wonder his name sounds familiar! His dad won the fucking Indianapolis 500 twice! Mom's Dutch too and looks heavily plastic surgeried. So they all sit down and everyone starts talking in Dutch! AWKWARD. Oh, Mom wants to know why it didn't work out with Brad. Dad seems like he might be a little sweet on Emily too. Might want to lock the door if you spend the night there!
OK, one more stop. Sean in Dallas. By the lake. With some dogs. Of course. It's so painfully all-American it hurts. OMG, who decorated their house, a team of grandmas? Sean's niece and nephew are "Kensington" and "Smith," of course. Why would you give a girl a name that will inevitably be shortened to "Kenny"? The South Park jokes will never end with that one. Kenny has a playhouse that's nicer than most people's real houses and it has A/C and it was also decorated by whatever octogenarian did the main house. Anyway, the centerpiece is an elaborate practical joke in which Sean confesses that he lives at home and shows her a messy room and then HA HA HA not really. But it does raise a good point: Em should be checking out where these dudes actually live, not their parents' house. That way you can see if they have light-up beer signs or copies of "Man and Beast Quarterly" or whatever.
We're gonna wrap this thing at the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills, the only place I've seen tonight that I actually want to go to. (Rooms available this weekend! $695 a night!) Let's get this on. We know what's coming. Racecar Arie first. Then Jef. It's down to Sean and Chris. The only thing Chris would win against Sean is a Being Polish contest. And, indeed, he is gone. He still hasn't fucking shaved. He's like a facial hair Chia Pet or something. Anyway, he doesn't cry much in the Crying Limo. And then there were three.
Final Four! Hometown visits! Shit's getting real! First we see Ems back in Charlotte and rushing home to Lil Rikki wearing.....wait, what the fuck? Some kind of death's head shirt?
Hi Rikki! So good to see you! Can't hear anything over your screams of terror! No, sweetie, it's not a monster! It's what's left after the skin is stripped from your face! Why are you crying?
Boring recap/Emily voiceover about the 4 who are left. Wait, Jef has a "little bit of an edge"? WTF? He's about as edgy as a bowling ball. I get the feeling a wild night for Jef might include some non-decaffeinated Celestial Seasonings and some Family Guy DVDs.
We kick off with Chris in Chicago. He comes out to her as Polish. Hey, what happened to Polish jokes? That was a thing when I was a kid. Another victim of political correctness! I need to contact a Republican about this. Anyway, after a brief pit stop in a Polish restaurant for beers, they're off to Hanover Park to meet the fam. Sturdy-looking Polish Dad, American Mom, and 2 cute enough sisters. Em wants to know if Chris is ready to be a father. Dad says "he will do his best." That should fill you with confidence! The crispier sister is a little worried and wants Em to dump Chris ASAP if he's not the one. FORESHADOWING. Oh, come on. You know what's coming. Hey, do you think Chris's perma-five-o-clock-shadow is planned or he just needs to shave? Oh Christ, surprise! There's a Polish band out back. Soon Chris will be polka-ing alone.
Next stop: St. George Utah, for Jef's "family ranch." Quite a spread they have there! After a little ride in some ATV thing, it's time for some target practice. Jef thinks Ems "looks so hot with a gun." Have I got a treat for Jef. On to meet Jef's family. Well, except for his parents, who couldn't be bothered to show up for this thing on national TV to meet their son's possible wife. Holy shit, there's a crapload of them. Wait, is that the lead singer from Smashmouth?
They're drinking lemonade! Ohhhhh, right, Mormons. That's a dealbreaker right there. Families are great and all, but without booze they're basically intolerable. Ems sits down for a group interview with the sisters. I don't know what's going on here but they all look like they have different parents. One looks like the homecoming queen and one looks like the mean girl from an 80's movie and one looks like Jonah Hill in a wig. Then Jef & E go hang out and he reads her some long thing he wrote. What's up this season with guys reading Emily these treatises on how much they love her? She's like the muse of mash notes.
NEXT. Arie in Scottsdale. Seriously, Scottsdale is like a Bachelor/ette Production Facility. There's always at least 3 or 4 from there. They take a spin in Arie's racecar and then it's off to meet everyone. Oh, shit, no wonder his name sounds familiar! His dad won the fucking Indianapolis 500 twice! Mom's Dutch too and looks heavily plastic surgeried. So they all sit down and everyone starts talking in Dutch! AWKWARD. Oh, Mom wants to know why it didn't work out with Brad. Dad seems like he might be a little sweet on Emily too. Might want to lock the door if you spend the night there!
OK, one more stop. Sean in Dallas. By the lake. With some dogs. Of course. It's so painfully all-American it hurts. OMG, who decorated their house, a team of grandmas? Sean's niece and nephew are "Kensington" and "Smith," of course. Why would you give a girl a name that will inevitably be shortened to "Kenny"? The South Park jokes will never end with that one. Kenny has a playhouse that's nicer than most people's real houses and it has A/C and it was also decorated by whatever octogenarian did the main house. Anyway, the centerpiece is an elaborate practical joke in which Sean confesses that he lives at home and shows her a messy room and then HA HA HA not really. But it does raise a good point: Em should be checking out where these dudes actually live, not their parents' house. That way you can see if they have light-up beer signs or copies of "Man and Beast Quarterly" or whatever.
We're gonna wrap this thing at the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills, the only place I've seen tonight that I actually want to go to. (Rooms available this weekend! $695 a night!) Let's get this on. We know what's coming. Racecar Arie first. Then Jef. It's down to Sean and Chris. The only thing Chris would win against Sean is a Being Polish contest. And, indeed, he is gone. He still hasn't fucking shaved. He's like a facial hair Chia Pet or something. Anyway, he doesn't cry much in the Crying Limo. And then there were three.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Product Endorsement: Spotify
DISCLAIMER: I have not received any money for this endorsement. I would totally be open to that, though, so if the endorsee wants to send me a check, have at it.
I know what you've been saying. "If I hear one more thing about the Facebook IPO, I will fucking run into a grocery store and start smashing jars of pickles on the ground and shrieking about my impending suicide." No, what you've actually been saying is "I need a good subscription-based music service that will enable me to listen to anything I want, from my fave slow jamz to Pavement's 'Slanted and Enchanted' to the new Beach House (which is pretty great, BTW) on my computer at home or work or, fuck it, on my cell."
I joined Spotify about a month ago and I fucking love it.
Here's the thing: the basic version, where you can just listen to any fucking thing you want on your computer? Is free. It has ads, but what do you want? FREE.
I'm kind of a big deal, so I went ahead and sprung for the $10/month Premium version. No ads, first of all. And I can access it on my mobile. So far so good, right? Well hold on to your fucking hat. You can even listen to it on your mobile OFFLINE. So dial up Nas' "Illmatic" and set it to "Available Offline" and listen to it reclined in seat 14A on the way to MIAMI BABY. Or wherever it is you go.
I know I sound like a hopeless shill. But I am telling you the truth, this was like the fifth or sixth best thing that's ever happened to me.
(The catalog seems pretty deep, too. I've only searched for a couple of things they didn't have, and it was admittedly some pretty obscure shit. So I think you'll be fine.)
IN OTHER NEWS, I have recently moved to an area near the Bay to Breakers course, so I'll be close to that for the first time in years and years. I'm interested to see what it's like these days. When I used to live near-ish the only thing I remember was being woken up by helicopters but that's when I used to sleep until like 1 pm on Sundays and I don't really do that any more cause I'm old now.
HAVE A NICE WEEKEND. HERE'S A PICTURE OF MY DOG.
I know what you've been saying. "If I hear one more thing about the Facebook IPO, I will fucking run into a grocery store and start smashing jars of pickles on the ground and shrieking about my impending suicide." No, what you've actually been saying is "I need a good subscription-based music service that will enable me to listen to anything I want, from my fave slow jamz to Pavement's 'Slanted and Enchanted' to the new Beach House (which is pretty great, BTW) on my computer at home or work or, fuck it, on my cell."
I joined Spotify about a month ago and I fucking love it.
Here's the thing: the basic version, where you can just listen to any fucking thing you want on your computer? Is free. It has ads, but what do you want? FREE.
I'm kind of a big deal, so I went ahead and sprung for the $10/month Premium version. No ads, first of all. And I can access it on my mobile. So far so good, right? Well hold on to your fucking hat. You can even listen to it on your mobile OFFLINE. So dial up Nas' "Illmatic" and set it to "Available Offline" and listen to it reclined in seat 14A on the way to MIAMI BABY. Or wherever it is you go.
I know I sound like a hopeless shill. But I am telling you the truth, this was like the fifth or sixth best thing that's ever happened to me.
(The catalog seems pretty deep, too. I've only searched for a couple of things they didn't have, and it was admittedly some pretty obscure shit. So I think you'll be fine.)
IN OTHER NEWS, I have recently moved to an area near the Bay to Breakers course, so I'll be close to that for the first time in years and years. I'm interested to see what it's like these days. When I used to live near-ish the only thing I remember was being woken up by helicopters but that's when I used to sleep until like 1 pm on Sundays and I don't really do that any more cause I'm old now.
HAVE A NICE WEEKEND. HERE'S A PICTURE OF MY DOG.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Guest Dog Program
(Obviously there are more important things to talk about, like the shit that happened in the Mission last night, but there are Serious Forums where people can condemn vandalism and all that jazz. You don't come for that. Let's talk about something better, like DOGS.)
As you may or may not be aware, The Wife and I live in a 2-unit building with my sister. I mean, The Sister has one apartment (downstairs) where she lives with her roommate, and The Wife and I live upstairs. We call it The Compound. Here's our flag:

"Nos Ebrii" is Latin for "We Are Drunk."
Anyway, I have a dog (a roughly 18-pound Chi-terrier thing) and my sister has a dog (much larger labradoodle, lovable and friendly but kind of a doofus) and her boyfriend has a dog (big thing, not sure exactly of ancestry, see pixx below) and when they're all around it's like a goddam kennel or something. But of course they're all awesome and we love them all blah blah blah.
See, here's my dog with The Sister's Boyfriend's dog:

TSBD, the one at the top of the pic, is named Chewie and is about as laid-back as you can get. If he were a person he'd be the rough equivalent of Brad Pitt in "True Romance." (Jump to around 1:09 for the good part.)
Chewie's decided that he likes our place upstairs. A lot of times on weekend mornings when we get up, this is what we see in the kitchen window.

So we let him in and he pretty much just pads into the bedroom and lies down and goes to sleep. We have carpet and my sister has hardwood and she theorizes that he likes it upstairs because he doesn't slide around as much. Possible, I guess.
This past Friday, we cooked out in the backyard and watched some Giants and stuff. They went back downstairs. A while later, I went into the kitchen and guess who's back?

Creepy, huh? I think it's the flash that makes it kind of horror-movie looking. Anyway, I let him in and he walked down the hall into the living room and passed out on the couch.

That's where I found him Saturday morning. I guess he's our semi-permanent houseguest.
As you may or may not be aware, The Wife and I live in a 2-unit building with my sister. I mean, The Sister has one apartment (downstairs) where she lives with her roommate, and The Wife and I live upstairs. We call it The Compound. Here's our flag:

"Nos Ebrii" is Latin for "We Are Drunk."
Anyway, I have a dog (a roughly 18-pound Chi-terrier thing) and my sister has a dog (much larger labradoodle, lovable and friendly but kind of a doofus) and her boyfriend has a dog (big thing, not sure exactly of ancestry, see pixx below) and when they're all around it's like a goddam kennel or something. But of course they're all awesome and we love them all blah blah blah.
See, here's my dog with The Sister's Boyfriend's dog:
TSBD, the one at the top of the pic, is named Chewie and is about as laid-back as you can get. If he were a person he'd be the rough equivalent of Brad Pitt in "True Romance." (Jump to around 1:09 for the good part.)
Chewie's decided that he likes our place upstairs. A lot of times on weekend mornings when we get up, this is what we see in the kitchen window.
So we let him in and he pretty much just pads into the bedroom and lies down and goes to sleep. We have carpet and my sister has hardwood and she theorizes that he likes it upstairs because he doesn't slide around as much. Possible, I guess.
This past Friday, we cooked out in the backyard and watched some Giants and stuff. They went back downstairs. A while later, I went into the kitchen and guess who's back?
Creepy, huh? I think it's the flash that makes it kind of horror-movie looking. Anyway, I let him in and he walked down the hall into the living room and passed out on the couch.
That's where I found him Saturday morning. I guess he's our semi-permanent houseguest.
Labels:
famous people,
fillum,
food,
home and garden shit,
Mr. Dogg,
The Sister,
The Wife
Monday, April 23, 2012
I got 2 things today, neither of which has anything to do with the other. It's a Grab Bag.
ITEM ONE.
In an otherwise routine slice-of-life story in the Chron entitled "Golden Gate Park Band strikes up 130th season," there appeared, like an angel from on high, the following paragraph:
1. Valerie Vizena! Isn't that a famous fashion designer who also has a line at Target that sold out the first day and now Vizena toasters are on eBay for $120? Valerie Vizena. Vizena.
2. Wait, what nightclub where you get pushed around features classical music? Is there some kind of hardcore mosh-pit Beethoven scene I don't know about?
3. Bottle of sparkling wine and ham-and-brie panini. Yes.
4. HER RESCUE DOG GRRR. Not "her dog," "her RESCUE dog," and the DOG IS NAMED FUCKING GRRR. 3 R's. "Here, Grrr! Grrr!" People in the dog park must think she's a mental patient.
5. Let's move on. Her husband, Kirk Kitajima, is a bank brand manager who OF COURSE IS ALSO A DJ.
I know it's only April, you guys, but this may be The Most San Francisco Paragraph of the Year. I love it. I want to move into this paragraph and live there forever. If I'm not friends with Valerie Vizena and Kirk and Grrr by the end of the week, I'm fucking giving up.
ITEM TWO.
MAD MEN SPOILERS AHEAD. I know I promised I wasn't going to talk about Mad Men this season but that episode last night was so off-the-charts weird I can't let it slide. I don't even want to get into Peggy getting baked and opening a Handjob Station in the movie theater, but I just have to say this. FROM WHAT I HEAR, acid trips typically involve one or more of the following: distorted senses; time dilation; visual hallucinations; the Grateful Dead; and a sense of oneness with the universe. What they do not typically involve is fucking MARITAL THERAPY. But who knows? Different strokes and all.
UPDATE!!!!!!!
By popular demand:
In an otherwise routine slice-of-life story in the Chron entitled "Golden Gate Park Band strikes up 130th season," there appeared, like an angel from on high, the following paragraph:
"I just love classical music, and it's nice to come somewhere that's not a nightclub with people pushing you around," said Valerie Vizena, a Visa USA employee who was camped out on the grass with a bottle of sparkling wine; a ham-and-brie panini; her rescue dog, Grrr; and her husband, Kurt Kitajima, a bank brand manager who moonlights as a DJ.Oh God. Oh God. I love this paragraph SO FUCKING MUCH. Let's take a look:
1. Valerie Vizena! Isn't that a famous fashion designer who also has a line at Target that sold out the first day and now Vizena toasters are on eBay for $120? Valerie Vizena. Vizena.
2. Wait, what nightclub where you get pushed around features classical music? Is there some kind of hardcore mosh-pit Beethoven scene I don't know about?
3. Bottle of sparkling wine and ham-and-brie panini. Yes.
4. HER RESCUE DOG GRRR. Not "her dog," "her RESCUE dog," and the DOG IS NAMED FUCKING GRRR. 3 R's. "Here, Grrr! Grrr!" People in the dog park must think she's a mental patient.
5. Let's move on. Her husband, Kirk Kitajima, is a bank brand manager who OF COURSE IS ALSO A DJ.
I know it's only April, you guys, but this may be The Most San Francisco Paragraph of the Year. I love it. I want to move into this paragraph and live there forever. If I'm not friends with Valerie Vizena and Kirk and Grrr by the end of the week, I'm fucking giving up.
ITEM TWO.
MAD MEN SPOILERS AHEAD. I know I promised I wasn't going to talk about Mad Men this season but that episode last night was so off-the-charts weird I can't let it slide. I don't even want to get into Peggy getting baked and opening a Handjob Station in the movie theater, but I just have to say this. FROM WHAT I HEAR, acid trips typically involve one or more of the following: distorted senses; time dilation; visual hallucinations; the Grateful Dead; and a sense of oneness with the universe. What they do not typically involve is fucking MARITAL THERAPY. But who knows? Different strokes and all.
UPDATE!!!!!!!
By popular demand:
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
The Bachelor: Let's Get Weird(er)
Panama! We're in Panama City for some reason. Probably because Haiti was too expensive. Oh look, Trump has some kind of resort thing, if resorting in Panama City sounds like fun to you. BUT BE WARNED: "NYGypset" says it has "Strange stale smell in the lobby areas, your guest room, bed linens." Maybe that's just Courtney!
We begin with a solo date with Kacie B. Another helicopter ride. I'm not kidding guys, helicopter rides are to the Bachelor franchise what straight lines are to Mondrian. Did you get that? I'm trying to class this joint up a little. Oh, just forget it. Anyway, they get dropped off on SAN BLAS with just their wits and a machete and a camera crew to sustain them for the next 15 minutes. San Blasé, more like. BAM!!! Kacie is told to bring 3 things and doesn't bring any food. WE'LL KNOW WHY SHORTLY. FORESHADOWING. She opines that "a lot of times, couples don't survive when they're just the two of them alone." I have no idea what that means. They head out into the water to try and catch a fish and Ben thinks that "if we can accomplish something like this together, we can probably do anything." Oh Jesus Christ. You're fake-fishing on TV, you're not the mushroom hunters who almost ate their dog. Try accomplishing something a little more challenging like parking in North Beach on a Saturday night or watching an explosive new episode of "Castle."
Outdoor Dinner, of course. ABC hates to see people eating indoors. Kacie says "a lot of things that have made me who I am are tough to talk about." OK HERE WE GO!!! Please please please drug problem drug problem drug problem no whammies drug problem OH FUCK EATING DISORDER. That's just fucking great. Chick was bulimic for a year. I've had drinking binges longer than that. FUCKING YAWN. Anyway, I guess it explains why she never touches her food.

She gets the Calorie Counter Rose and I'm guessing she's going to be in the Final Four. Just a hunch.
Group date. Let me preface this by saying this was one of the most painful Ugly American things I have ever seen on the Bach, and that includes painting that fucking orphanage in Africa. So we're tooling down a jungle river and we come upon some kids playing soccer who lead us to their Village of Savages where Courtney gets mostly naked and dances around with a black bar over her chest and everyone else gives her dirty looks. I really fucking hate Courtney, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway, the less said about this little exercise in cross-cultural pollination the better.
Nighttime brings drinks by the pool, like it always does. Lindzi's looking horsey as ever. Jamie finally gets some screen time and she's blah blah blahing away as Courtney disrobes in the background. I swear to God, that bitch cannot keep her fucking clothes on. Anyway, Lindzi gets the rose and Courtney is SO MAD she sucks her lizard lips up into her rocky skull.

Deathmatch Date with Rachel and Blake!!! They're off the learn SALSA, Dance of Love. Our instructor reminds us that "da most impohrta think ees that eet ees SEXAH!!!!!" Rachel thinks there's "chemico" between them. Argh! Somebody get the face wash then! Jesus Christ, get it off me! Blake dry humps Ben and the whole thing is quite off-putting. Later, after a Mildly to Very Awkward Dinner, Blake has something to show him. DON'T DO IT GIRL. Any time somebody has something to show someone on this show, it turns out badly! KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. Oh no. Here it comes. It's a little Stalker Scrapbook of collages cut out of magazines all about her love for him! F U C K I N G. W E I R D.

In a related story, Rachel gets the You're Not That Weird Rose and Blake is escorted to the Crying Minivan. That creepy notebook did it, Blakely. Try not to be so weird next time.
Now we have some time to fill so Chris Harrison generates a little drama. It has Come To Our Attention that Casey S. is still in love with her ex Michael! Well, maybe she's not, but CH puts the Hypnotic Voice on her and says "You're still in love with Michael, aren't you?" and Casey S. looks blank and nods and says "YES I AM STILL IN LOVE WITH HIM CHRIS" and Ben and his awful, awful hair think she should leave. She just wants someone to marry her. Poor thing. As she rides off in the Commitment Minivan, she wails "Now I have to find someone else!" Love is mysterious and strange, is it not?
Time for the Cocktail Party. Jamie has apparently decided that she hasn't debased herself nearly enough and so she cranks her desperation up to about 11 and tells Flajnik "When I go to bed at night, I definitely think about the things I'd like to do with you." Hopefully one of them is cutting his fucking ridiculous hair. She then awkwardly mounts him for some kind of lap dance/animal mating thing. It's like she's heard someone describe sex but has never actually seen it done. She's issuing all kinds of instructions about who should keep their mouth open or shut and let's do this and the whole thing is some kind of bizarre spectacle and I don't even know what the fuck is going on here.
Do you really need to know who gets cut? I mean, duh, Jamie. I guess her strategy was to lay low for the first few weeks and then BAM explode in a Fireball of Humiliation. Well, that didn't work. Nothing that a few years of therapy can't fix. That's what I always say.
We begin with a solo date with Kacie B. Another helicopter ride. I'm not kidding guys, helicopter rides are to the Bachelor franchise what straight lines are to Mondrian. Did you get that? I'm trying to class this joint up a little. Oh, just forget it. Anyway, they get dropped off on SAN BLAS with just their wits and a machete and a camera crew to sustain them for the next 15 minutes. San Blasé, more like. BAM!!! Kacie is told to bring 3 things and doesn't bring any food. WE'LL KNOW WHY SHORTLY. FORESHADOWING. She opines that "a lot of times, couples don't survive when they're just the two of them alone." I have no idea what that means. They head out into the water to try and catch a fish and Ben thinks that "if we can accomplish something like this together, we can probably do anything." Oh Jesus Christ. You're fake-fishing on TV, you're not the mushroom hunters who almost ate their dog. Try accomplishing something a little more challenging like parking in North Beach on a Saturday night or watching an explosive new episode of "Castle."
Outdoor Dinner, of course. ABC hates to see people eating indoors. Kacie says "a lot of things that have made me who I am are tough to talk about." OK HERE WE GO!!! Please please please drug problem drug problem drug problem no whammies drug problem OH FUCK EATING DISORDER. That's just fucking great. Chick was bulimic for a year. I've had drinking binges longer than that. FUCKING YAWN. Anyway, I guess it explains why she never touches her food.
She gets the Calorie Counter Rose and I'm guessing she's going to be in the Final Four. Just a hunch.
Group date. Let me preface this by saying this was one of the most painful Ugly American things I have ever seen on the Bach, and that includes painting that fucking orphanage in Africa. So we're tooling down a jungle river and we come upon some kids playing soccer who lead us to their Village of Savages where Courtney gets mostly naked and dances around with a black bar over her chest and everyone else gives her dirty looks. I really fucking hate Courtney, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway, the less said about this little exercise in cross-cultural pollination the better.
Nighttime brings drinks by the pool, like it always does. Lindzi's looking horsey as ever. Jamie finally gets some screen time and she's blah blah blahing away as Courtney disrobes in the background. I swear to God, that bitch cannot keep her fucking clothes on. Anyway, Lindzi gets the rose and Courtney is SO MAD she sucks her lizard lips up into her rocky skull.
Deathmatch Date with Rachel and Blake!!! They're off the learn SALSA, Dance of Love. Our instructor reminds us that "da most impohrta think ees that eet ees SEXAH!!!!!" Rachel thinks there's "chemico" between them. Argh! Somebody get the face wash then! Jesus Christ, get it off me! Blake dry humps Ben and the whole thing is quite off-putting. Later, after a Mildly to Very Awkward Dinner, Blake has something to show him. DON'T DO IT GIRL. Any time somebody has something to show someone on this show, it turns out badly! KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. Oh no. Here it comes. It's a little Stalker Scrapbook of collages cut out of magazines all about her love for him! F U C K I N G. W E I R D.
In a related story, Rachel gets the You're Not That Weird Rose and Blake is escorted to the Crying Minivan. That creepy notebook did it, Blakely. Try not to be so weird next time.
Now we have some time to fill so Chris Harrison generates a little drama. It has Come To Our Attention that Casey S. is still in love with her ex Michael! Well, maybe she's not, but CH puts the Hypnotic Voice on her and says "You're still in love with Michael, aren't you?" and Casey S. looks blank and nods and says "YES I AM STILL IN LOVE WITH HIM CHRIS" and Ben and his awful, awful hair think she should leave. She just wants someone to marry her. Poor thing. As she rides off in the Commitment Minivan, she wails "Now I have to find someone else!" Love is mysterious and strange, is it not?
Time for the Cocktail Party. Jamie has apparently decided that she hasn't debased herself nearly enough and so she cranks her desperation up to about 11 and tells Flajnik "When I go to bed at night, I definitely think about the things I'd like to do with you." Hopefully one of them is cutting his fucking ridiculous hair. She then awkwardly mounts him for some kind of lap dance/animal mating thing. It's like she's heard someone describe sex but has never actually seen it done. She's issuing all kinds of instructions about who should keep their mouth open or shut and let's do this and the whole thing is some kind of bizarre spectacle and I don't even know what the fuck is going on here.
Do you really need to know who gets cut? I mean, duh, Jamie. I guess her strategy was to lay low for the first few weeks and then BAM explode in a Fireball of Humiliation. Well, that didn't work. Nothing that a few years of therapy can't fix. That's what I always say.
Labels:
ben has a lot of feelings,
drinking,
food,
Foreign policy,
holy matrimony,
Mr. Dogg,
scary,
TV
Friday, January 27, 2012
TK's Recipe of the Week
I was going to start this feature a while back and then forgot to. Shit's been super busy and I can't be responsible for that. Anyway, I'm starting it now.
Brunch, as we know, is more than just a meal. It is a Life Requirement on par with oxygen and reality TV. But we can't always go out for brunch. It gets expensive and we can't take our dogs. Instead, tomorrow or Sunday invite some peeps over and make this shit. It is SO FUCKING GOOD that The Wife and The Sister always demand it and I'm all I CAN'T MAKE THIS EVERY TIME YOU BITCHES WANT BRUNCH and they're all SHUT UP AND MAKE THE HASH and then I make the hash.
Sources indicate that this recipe originated with Gordon Ramsay. If that's true, dance in heaven, you foul-mouthed famewhore British son of a bitch, for your gift to us all is immeasurable.
Let's get on with it.
CHORIZO, RED PEPPER, AND FINGERLING POTATO HASH
1 lb. fingerling potatoes
1 large sprig rosemary
Olive oil
8 oz. loose chorizo
1 red bell pepper, diced
Butter
1/2 red onion, finely diced
4 eggs
Sea salt & black pepper
Champagne
Orange juice
Pomegranate juice
Acme Bakery herb slab
Open the champagne. Pour into glass with either orange or pomegranate juice, your choice.
Boil the potatoes in a pot with the sprig of rosemary until they're just cooked, not like super-soft, but enough so a knife slides easily into them. Rinse them in cold water and then get someone to cut them in half or cut them in half yourself, what do I care.
Heat a big pan over medium heat and pour enough olive oil in to coat the bottom. Put in the chorizo and saute it until it begins to release its oil, then throw in the onions and peppers. Take a sip of your drink and saute all that stuff for like 4 or 5 minutes, until the onions start getting soft.
Add the potatoes and a big hunk of butter and mix it all together. Keep stirring it and sauteeing until the potatoes start to get a little crispy, so like 7 to 10 minutes. Salt and pepper the whole thing.
When the potato stuff is almost done, either poach or fry 4 eggs. I like poaching them, but I'm not gonna tell you how to run your life. If you fry them, it's not the goddam end of the world.
Divide up the hash into 4 portions and put an egg on top of each. Serve with the bread and more champagne.
When finished, recline on the couch. Moaning optional, depending on how badly you're hungover.
Serves 4, duh.
Brunch, as we know, is more than just a meal. It is a Life Requirement on par with oxygen and reality TV. But we can't always go out for brunch. It gets expensive and we can't take our dogs. Instead, tomorrow or Sunday invite some peeps over and make this shit. It is SO FUCKING GOOD that The Wife and The Sister always demand it and I'm all I CAN'T MAKE THIS EVERY TIME YOU BITCHES WANT BRUNCH and they're all SHUT UP AND MAKE THE HASH and then I make the hash.
Sources indicate that this recipe originated with Gordon Ramsay. If that's true, dance in heaven, you foul-mouthed famewhore British son of a bitch, for your gift to us all is immeasurable.
Let's get on with it.
CHORIZO, RED PEPPER, AND FINGERLING POTATO HASH
1 lb. fingerling potatoes
1 large sprig rosemary
Olive oil
8 oz. loose chorizo
1 red bell pepper, diced
Butter
1/2 red onion, finely diced
4 eggs
Sea salt & black pepper
Champagne
Orange juice
Pomegranate juice
Acme Bakery herb slab
Open the champagne. Pour into glass with either orange or pomegranate juice, your choice.
Boil the potatoes in a pot with the sprig of rosemary until they're just cooked, not like super-soft, but enough so a knife slides easily into them. Rinse them in cold water and then get someone to cut them in half or cut them in half yourself, what do I care.
Heat a big pan over medium heat and pour enough olive oil in to coat the bottom. Put in the chorizo and saute it until it begins to release its oil, then throw in the onions and peppers. Take a sip of your drink and saute all that stuff for like 4 or 5 minutes, until the onions start getting soft.
Add the potatoes and a big hunk of butter and mix it all together. Keep stirring it and sauteeing until the potatoes start to get a little crispy, so like 7 to 10 minutes. Salt and pepper the whole thing.
When the potato stuff is almost done, either poach or fry 4 eggs. I like poaching them, but I'm not gonna tell you how to run your life. If you fry them, it's not the goddam end of the world.
Divide up the hash into 4 portions and put an egg on top of each. Serve with the bread and more champagne.
When finished, recline on the couch. Moaning optional, depending on how badly you're hungover.
Serves 4, duh.
Labels:
drinking,
famous people,
food,
Mr. Dogg,
The Sister,
The Wife,
TK's recipe of the week
Thursday, January 19, 2012
This Fucking Old House
My life right now is kinda consumed with working on this new place we're moving into but I'm not really a fan of home makeover blogs and so I'm not really psyched to document how we hung up a vintage map of the Transcontinental Railroad and then have my comments section fill up with "So cute!" comments. Instead, here's an askew picture of our new living room, taken from our new dining room, and featuring my sister's dog:
The place has potential but it's trashed right now. There have been tenants in there for like 10 consecutive years and it shows. We have to pull up all the carpets and paint the whole interior and also do some work in the kitchen. There's crazy sound transmission between the first floor (where my sister is living) and the top floor (see above), so we have to put down soundproofing material. We got 2 bids for this. One wants around $4,000 to do it and the other guy wants $17,500 in cash - no checks or credit card, like hand him stacks of $20s wrapped up in those little paper sleeves. SHAY DEE. Anyway, so yeah, that 13 grand difference kind of takes Guy #2 out of contention. I've never house shit before but is this standard? There's a 400% difference in bids to do the same thing? What the fuck?
This whole thing is going to be fucking expensive and everyone's all "Oh, you should paint the interior yourselves" but fuck that, I'd rather pay someone and have it done right than do it myself.
ANYWAY, this is already a snooze so sorry about that. I'll try and have better content in the near future once this fucking stress bolus has passed through my system.
This whole thing is going to be fucking expensive and everyone's all "Oh, you should paint the interior yourselves" but fuck that, I'd rather pay someone and have it done right than do it myself.
ANYWAY, this is already a snooze so sorry about that. I'll try and have better content in the near future once this fucking stress bolus has passed through my system.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)












