Archive for March, 2009


My Good Deed For The Week

March 25, 2009

Last night I was heading to dinner with some friends in San Jose when both lanes of traffic slowed, then stopped. This was highly unusual for this area, so Jesse and I craned our necks to see what the hold up was. A scared looking dog was running back and forth across the lanes.  I don’t know what breed, but she was smaller than knee height, with a coat like a Rhodesian Ridgeback. I pulled the car over and called to her, and she immediately ran over to us. Her only tag was for a rabies vaccination, but luckily there was a phone number on there, though not the owner’s. A very nice and helpful lady answered the phone, and found the owner, and gave him my phone number. Meanwhile, the dog was perfectly content to stand between us, my finger hooked through her collar. She was very sweet. The owner arrived no less than five minutes later. Evidently they’d been playing in the park when a boy used an air horn and scared the poor girl, and she bolted.

I’m so glad they were reunited, and that I had a part in it. And now that I have seen the perfect dog – seriously, the right kind of coat, the right size, good temperament, why didn’t I take a picture? – I will spend the rest of my life trying to find another dog just like this one. Damn.


A quick note from my boyfriend

March 9, 2009

Also, before I forget, this morning while in a rush to leave for work, Jack disappeared for a few minutes into your closet. He emerged, just as I was leaving, wearing one of your bras. He didn’t want to take it off. I threw it back in your closet.

I can’t stop picturing this and laughing.


3rd Show of 2009: Tapes ‘n Tapes!

March 5, 2009

Oy, I am seriously behind. I mean, I went to this show on January 23rd. And I’m just getting around to writing about it NOW? Oops.

First off, I was saddened by memories of my two block walk from my car to The Great American Music Hall. I was shouted at by no less than six different guys, with a range from “Whoo-OOO” to “Shake it, don’t break it,” and my personal favorite, “The sistas in this hood gonna be jealous of YOU.” One offhand comment I can stand. Over half a dozen and I start to feel gross. It was bad enough that I was trying to scope out people at the concert who I could get to walk me back to my car. As it happened, I just pretended I was on the phone and walked very fast.

This was another adventure in solo concert-going, which I am still not used to. I just don’t know what to do between bands, especially when I’m not interested in drinking. I spent most of my time wandering around the small space and people watching.

I missed the first band, and the second band was… I usually try to be kind, but these guys were just bad. There wasn’t anything notable about their music, and they just couldnt’ hold my interest. I went to the bathroom just to stand in line where it was a little quieter, and to kill time. When I came out, they were singing “F*** San Francisco,  f*** California.” Now the song was about being sick of everything, but I can’t imagine this was very popular with the audience. It wasn’t with this member.

Tapes ‘n tapes pleasantly wiped away all that, though. They rocked hard, and the audience rocked right along with them. I’m not as familiar with their second album as much as their first, and so I felt like I was hearing half the songs for the first time, and they were good.  The stoned kid next to me kept high fiving me, which could be have been obnoxious, but instead came across cute.


Totally unrelated: someone brought puppies to work yesterday, and they were so, so cute, and I FORGOT TO TAKE PICTURES. Shame on me.


As long as I’m awake.

March 2, 2009

It was a strange weekend.

Don’t get me wrong, it was also a weekend filled with complete and total awesome. There was checking out the newly turned over Triple Crown, hearing vinyl for the first time in ages, and FINALLY stepping into Martuni’s, which has vaulted to possibly my favorite bar in SF. I want a permanent place in a dark corner with Daniel, where we can drink divine beverages and be catty together.

But later that evening, after a tipsy meal at Sauce and a cab ride home*, I was troubled with strange dreams. I don’t remember a thing, but according to Trevor, I was mumbling about “getting all the sand off me.” I awoke drenched in sweat, and without even thinking, got in the shower. It wasn’t until I was  standing under the water that I realized I had no idea what I was doing there, or what time it was, or anything. I dried off, put on pajamas, and got back in bed. It was three in the morning. My only response with regards to the events was “it made sense at the time.”

And off to Stockton/Sacramento I went. There are certain people I just don’t see as often as I’d like, and sometimes organizing semi-special events is warranted. So I shook my ass with two of my favorite people: Tina and Katy (and Katy’s awesome friend Rob). I went to two places I’d never been, the Mercantile and Badlands (Sac), and I’m already trying to figure out a time to go back. Which brings up an interesting question: why do I have to drive 100+ miles to go dancing? Why don’t I ever go dancing here, in the city? I have no idea.

Alas, the joy of the weekend was soured by this morning. It’s my own fault; if I hadn’t hit snooze, I wouldn’t have had this dream. But Trevor and I were supposed to get married, but he kept finding excuse after excuse about why we couldn’t do it. First it was because it was raining, and then because the tide was too high**.  Eventually it came down to him playing on a laptop while I tried to talk to him about it. He was completely disinterested, and that’s when I realized it wasn’t happening and I had to leave. I woke up more than a little upset. Luckily Trevor was actually there to calm me down. But this is the second dream I’ve had about weddings in the last two weeks (though the other wasn’t mine), and the second dream I’ve had about Trevor and I breaking up in the last week.

I’ve read a lot about dreams. Some think it’s our brains working things out, some think it’s just recycling information, some think it has no bearing on our actual lives at all. I’m not sure what I think. All I know is that my dream brain wants to get married and be clean doing it.

* I officially love cabs now. I used to hate them. I was WRONG.
** When we discussed this later, it came to light that neither of us has any interest in getting married outside.