I'm Not Ignoring You, Internets

Ok. Well. Maybe I am.

But I have good reason! Promise!

I got a new job an opportunity of a lifetime.

Whew.

I'm back.

I'm bad.

My days of commuting over the Bay Bridge are numbered.

The Art of Destruction

Salvador Dali or the MacArthur Maze?




This is my daily commute route. Time for a new job.


Photo credit: SF Chronicle

Gonna Paint Our Wagon, Gonna Paint It Good

Where have I been and what, exactly, have I been doing?

Both good questions as I've gone nowhere and I've accomplished next to nothing. Yet, I've been inundated. Work has been stressful and super busy. I haven't been to the gym in weeks, months maybe. I haven't had a moment to read a book, listen to music, watch TV, or read my favorite blogs. I sit in my car far too much; commuting here, commuting there. The drycleaner has surely given me up for dead and is wearing my clothes.

The Best of the Worst

It been a few weeks now and I'm far enough removed from the horror that I'm ready to blog about my horrendous hotel experience.

I will refer to this "hotel" as Worst Eastern. It was a screaming deal at $85.00/night and it had availability. Every hotel in Salt Lake City was sold out due a number of conventions. United Mine Workers of America, the Bovine Growth Supplement convention, a cheer leading convention, and the LDS convention, just to name a few.

When we got into the room at about 10:00 pm, it was a balmy 85 degrees. I fooled around with the thermostat only to realize shortly thereafter that it was stuck at 85 degrees. We called maintenance and, as we waited, temporarily solved the problem by opening the door. The door, which opened into the parking lot. All class, this place. Our room became a variety of micro climates. 45 at the door, 60 by the TV, and 85 everywhere else. With a nice dose of gasoline fumes every time someone pulled into the parking lot.

We turned on the TV to take our minds off the desert like conditions, and immediately noticed that while the visual aspect of the TV worked fine, the sound did not. I wasn't sure if the static was trying to be heard over the talking or vice versa. We also found out that only two outlets could be using power at one time. So, if the TV was on and the lamp and alarm clock were plugged in and on, NOTHING ELSE WORKED. Forget about charging phones, laptops, ipods, or, say, turning on the bathroom light to go pee.

Uh-huh. Right about this point is where I started to get real ornery.

Our repeated calls for maintenance went totally unanswered. By now it was 11:30 PM and we were getting up at 6:30 AM to go skiing. We decided to try to get some sleep and fight the good fight in the morning. But sleep would elude us. We had a room with two queen beds. The heat was simply too much to sleep in one bed, so the BF moved over to the other bed. When he sat down on the bed I heard a loud thump followed by a moan. I fumbled to find the light which, upon turning on, burned out. Apparently, the bed only had two legs and when the BF sat down, he was promptly dumped on his ass onto the floor. He managed to find a way onto the bed and again, we both attempted sleep. It was then that we heard it. It being the person (?), animal (?), monster (?) in the room above us. It paced his/her floor, our ceiling, for what seemed like hours. Paced and paced and paced and paced and paced. And then paced some more.

All of this, and it was still 85 degrees in the room. Not to mention that I'm sugarcoating this little story. I'm not even going into detail on the paper thin walls, the lumpy pillows, scratchy sheets, and towels made of sandpaper.

At 1:00 AM the BF went to the Front Desk, where we learned that not only was the hotel totally sold out, but there was no availability at any other hotel.

By 3:30 AM The sheets were thoroughly soaked with sweat. I think I started crying. Upon further reflection, perhaps my eyes were just sweating.

I dozed off around 4:00 AM only to be awoken with a jolt by the sounds of a baby crying in the room next door.

I wanted to kill someone. Badly.

But I didn't kill anyone. And we eventually got refunded and moved to a much nicer hotel for the remainder of our stay. While the new hotel was leaps and bounds above the Worst Eastern, I did find that the pillows were a bit too fluffy.

And So It Goes

"Live by the harmless untruths that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy."

~Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

You Put Your Left Foot In... Your Mouth

As an avid Stern fan, I've always hated Don Imus. Howard can't stand him from way back in his days at WNBC and so, by association, I can't stand Imus. I've never actually listened to him, but from Fred and Howard's stories and impersonations, I know Imus to be a major douche. Over the weekend I read this article about some disparaging remarks Imus made about members of the Rutgers women's basketball team. From the moment I read the article, I was giddy in anticipation of the verbal beating Imus was going to get on this morning's Stern show. Howard and the gang did not disappoint.

Howard is my hero.

Ketchup

I'm back from Utah and I'm playing a serious game of catch up. So this post will be lame. Or lamer than most of the lameness you might find here.

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Our ski trip to Utah coincided with the 177th anniversary of Mormonism. Let's just say that over the course of my trip I saw a lot of white shirts and black ties. 21,000 to be exact.

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I took a bad spill at Alta on Sunday. One moment I was skiing along without a care in the world and the next I was face down and spilling my DNA all over the pristine white snow. I didn't break any bones and my teeth are still attached to my skull, but I did split both my top and bottom lip as well as the inside of my mouth. I look a little freakish, however, the money I'm saving on collagen lip injections is almost worth it.

I'm Not Sick But I'm Not Well

My friend used to have a house in Park City, UT and a group of us would go skiing there every year around New Year's Eve. They sold the place about 4 years ago and I haven't been back since. As I sat here reminiscing about the many good times at the Park City house, a memory came back to me. A memory that I had buried deep in my psyche to save my sanity.

It was New Year's Eve of Y2K. You couldn't find a canned good for miles. A sure sign, if any, that Armageddon was upon us. We had stocked up on plenty of booze and champagne. By our rationale, if the world was going to end, we were going to be good and liquored up. I distinctly remember drinking almost an entire bottle of champagne, stripping off my clothes, and streaking the neighborhood.

Have you ever gotten excessively drunk, very naked, and run around a predominately Mormon neighborhood in 15 degree weather while screaming "Happy Fuckin' New Year"?

You have?

Let's be friends. Best friends.

Tomorrow I'll be going to Utah for a long ski weekend. If you see some pasty white girl streaking in your neighborhood, that's me reliving the good stupid times.