Don't get used to the posts

I'll soon be flying to San Diego with Jeremy to celebrate New Years 2007. Linda is going to pick us up at the airport and drive us to a house that's been rented in Rosarito, Mexico. There we will be joined by a posse of people I have never met before and the festivities will begin! I'll be away from a computer for several days, thus there will be no posts.

Sadly, my steady date will not be joining us on the Mexican adventure. He's currently in Utah, on a family-fun style ski trip. I'm trying not to feel too disappointed about the New Year's kisses I'll be missing, since it is primarily my fault. I'm a lousy skier and had a lot of fun with my family already this holiday season, so heading south seemed like the clear choice over Utah. I think that as a team, Jeremy and Linda will make a fabulous stand-in New Year's eve date. They've got it all... Looks, brains, super sarcastic senses of humor, booze, and a rental house in Rosarito. Plus, I hear they're both real good kissers.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Design by MUNI

On a lot of the MUNI trains and buses, they have this little sign up near where the driver sits. It says, "INFORMATION GLADLY GIVEN BUT SAFETY REQUIRES AVOIDING UNNECESSARY CONVERSATION."

I've often thought that phrase would be great on a t-shirt, and that MUNI should make them and sell them online to earn some extra money to run the J Church more than once an hour.

Annulment in Oregon

Over the holiday, one of my friends mentioned that his marriage was actually annulled. It was previously understood that he got divorced. My mom, sister, and I were trying to figure out what the differences in grounds for a divorce vs grounds for an annulment are. I always thought it had to do with the amount of time that the marriage actually lasted. My sister (who works in a law firm and is surrounded by attorneys who seem to enjoy answering random legal questions) checked up on it and sent an email this morning, writing:

"Apparently in the state of Oregon there are very few grounds for legal annulment which include:

1) one of the parties was married at the time of remarriage
2) the parties are cousins or better
3) fraud
4) parties were incompetent at the time they entered into the marriage (they were minors or had some mental illness etc.)
5) parties were forced into marriage

The law states nothing about a time limit on annulment. Interesting, eh?

Also, there is the type of annulment that happens in the Catholic Church, but a marriage that was annulled in the Church would have to be legally dissolved somehow either by annulment or divorce."

That clears that up. Now I'm a little perplexed about this guy and his ex-wife/not wife. Does he suffer mental illness? Did he accidentally confess to me that she was really his cousin? What constitutes fraud in a marriage? When Britney Spears married that guy in Vegas, did they get a divorce, or did they have it annulled? I'm sure she could have made a case for mental illness.

We'll call them New Year's resolutions

I have a couple things that I don't particularly want to do, but need to take care of soon. Getting these things done would be a relief, since I've been putting them off for months. Supposedly one of the best things you can do to help yourself accomplish goals is declare them publicly, so here you go:

1) I will join a gym before the end of January. The Bay Club and the YMCA are both still on the short list. Crunch, 24-Hour, Equinox, and Sports Club LA are all officially out.

2) I have to finish the motorcycle class and get my license. I'd like to give this the same end of January deadline, but it seems overly ambitious. I'm shooting for the end of February.

If only Sally had a blog

-----Original Message-----
Sent: Wednesday, December 27, 2006 2:40 PM
Subject: RE: fabulous!


Can I blog a picture of how swollen your face was after your surgery?

I haven't posted anything in about a zillion years and I'm looking for new material.

RB


12/27/2006 03:13 PM

To
"'RBrownin
cc

Subject
RE: fabulous!

Are you serious? Your friends already make enough fun of me without seeing me look like Alfred Hitchcock. I guess you can post it as long as you keep it academic... no comments about drooling.


-----Original Message-----
Sent: Wednesday, December 27, 2006 3:30 PM
Subject: RE: fabulous!


Well, I don't have to. Got anything else interesting?

RB


12/27/2006 03:31 PM

To
"'RBrownin
cc

Subject
RE: fabulous!

Hmmm.... not really. You could write something about how Tony Blair flies commercial. I think that is a bit odd.

The new Blogger

I have been trying to convert this blog to the new, non-Beta version that Google has been pushing since back when I actually posted stuff. Today, I think the site decided to let me make the switch, but it has taken an hour so far and I'm still getting nothing but "Your account is currently moving to new Blogger. You will get an email when your move is complete." Kinda seems like the brainiacs at Google should be able to translate my silly blog to Punjabi and beam it to Mars in under an hour, while doing calculus problems on a treadmill. Why the hell is this taking so long?

Once I'm up and running on the new Blogger, I'm considering giving RBlog a whole new look to renew my interest. At the very least, I needs a format that is more photo-friendly. If you have suggestions, make them now.

I'm slightly worried that the promotion of the new Blogger is an early sign that Google is going to start charging for this service. Those worries are fueled by the fact that I've never been able to figure out how Google makes as much money as it seems to make. My favorite rumor about how cool it is to work for Google is that they have an on-campus gym with the equivalent of swimming pool treadmills. I don't know what they're called, but they're mini lap pools where you swim in place against a big jet of water. My second favorite rumor about Google is that the big black buses with the tinted windows that have been spotted in the evenings around Noe Valley and Cole Valley are Google buses, sent to pick up and drop off employees... urban-chic school buses that shuttle between the city and Mountain View.

It's been an hour and a half now. This is ridiculous.

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Okay. Biker Dad has been sitting in this space forever and you're sick of it. I get it.

I'm not sure why, but blogging has not held the usual zing for me over the last couple of months. And I suppose that is obvious at this point. Mostly, my excuses have been that I have no time and nothing to say, though it's clear that neither of these things are true. Or at least they are no more true than they have been at other points in life, during which I was a determined and dedicated blogger.

I suspect that I've just been side-swiped by a case of general malaise this fall. I would liken it to a small period of depression, but that sounds so extreme and unattractive. Nothing has really held the usual zing over the last couple of months and I've been cranky. Salty, as the Jo-tel would say. Shark-like. I was sad to see the end of summer and never really got over it. I'm sure some of this mood is related to all the seriousness and focus required by the new job. Maybe it's the weather? I am damn tired of working full-time and always having school stuff hanging over my head... lurking in the background. That's for certain. I'm sure my failure to join a gym after canceling my last membership in September contributes, as well. In fact, it's probably at least 50% of the problem.

I flew back to SF this morning, after a week in Portland, and the brighter light quality, proximity of my own bed, and the completion of the Christmas have me feeling very optimistic and ready to take action. I expect that I a little blogging will help me sort myself out in the New Year. Watch this space for actual posts. Coming soon!

Biker Dad

Since you had a chance to read his advice on riding, I thought I would also share a pic of my Dad on his motorcycle.

My hog

This is the bike I was riding yesterday:




Well, not the exact one, but the same model and color. I think it's pretty cute and it kind of made me feel like a bad ass. One perk to riding a motorcycle is that it doesn't ever look hard, even if you are nervous and don't know what you're doing. I was watching people get on the bikes and go through the drills and they all just looked cool.

Maybe it's too much, too fast

I spent yesterday, from 11ish to 5ish, learning to ride a motorcycle. I am really, really tired today. The class starts up again at 11ish today, but I am not sure I'm going to make it, for several reasons including the following:

1) I think it's going to rain.

2) I need to write a paper.

3) My hands and shoulders are super sore, probably because I was too tensed up yesterday (also, I was really surprised by how much the motorcycle weighed and how much you have to control that weight)

4) I value my life.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not giving up on the motorcycle thing, I just think I need a little more time to process it all. I'm not sure I would agree this is a course for beginners, unless you are a beginner that has your own bike to practice on/have been practicing a bit, or are a beginner who is a regular driver of a car that is stick shift. That is really what it comes down to, and I am not either of these things. The exercises went pretty fast. I had never even turned on a motorcycle before, and within a couple of hours we were speeding around in big loops, accelerating, braking, and shifting between second and third. It seemed a little quick to me. I'm pretty good once it gets up to speed, great at shifting gears up and down once I get going, and not bad at all with the steering and swerving and weaving in and out of cones. Unfortunately, I struggle with the clutch, and kill the bike about 35% of the time I try to take off. I could also be smoother with the stops.

I know it's just a timing thing and requires some practice, but my tendency to kill the bike at take off gets me all flustered and unable to focus. Plus, I would not describe the male instructor (there were two with our group, a man and a woman) as incredibly supportive or nurturing. I would actually describe him as kind of an asshole. So, while it's really not that big a deal to kill the thing, especially when you're learning, his impatience made me feel like I totally sucked. Being embarrassed and flustered is not conducive to concentration.

Today (day two of training) we're supposed to be refining our basic skills. Practicing things like tight turns, driving over obstacles (I think we have to drive over 2x4s), and taking our final test. I want another day to practice the basic stuff, so I think I'm going to reschedule the Saturday/Sunday combo for next weekend and have three days of training all together. Part of me feels like a weenie, but I would rather feel confident on the bike than just barely pass and feel like I rushed through the whole thing and only got the gist. I want to do it at my own pace and feel good about it. Even though yesterday's lessons were a lot of work, and yeah -- kinda hard for me -- it was also super, SUPER fun when I'd master something well enough to loosen up and enjoy it.

Why I shred my junk mail

Some have rolled their eyes like I am an obsessive compulsive nut job, but this post from Load proves that it's not a bad idea to shred your junk mail before you toss it out. Especially if it comes from a credit card company.

Another weird dream

I think I went through all of last year without ever remembering a dream. But lately, I've been dreaming a lot.

The other night I dreamt that the skin from my lower lip to my collar bone was dissolving. You could see my teeth and there were holes going all the way through into my throat and windpipe. There was no blood or oozing. The holes were black and crumbly -- maybe moldy? -- almost like I had become a zombie or something. No real plot to the dream other than the fact that I was grossed out and didn't really know what to do about it.

Photos I've been meaning to post since September

As I mentioned, Ross flew me out to D.C. in late September. I got to meet Jack, and I think it's safe to say we hit it off. Our time together has made me re-evaluate my previous opinion that babies are scary and gross. Some babies might be okay.

Here are a couple of pics...




Geez, he's cute.




Yes, that's Jack-drool in my hair.







In fact, the whole clan is pretty cute all around.

Men and their hair

Dudes, I'm curious... how much do you pay for haircuts? I got into a debate about this the other night, and my opponent was arguing that no "normal" guy spends money on their hair. However, my experience tells me that when it comes to hair there are three categories of men:

1) Those with buzzers who cut their own hair, spend next to nothing on it, and care very little how it looks.

2) Those who got to a barber (this is usually $25 or less).

3) Those who go to a stylist, might be described as "metro," and are usually very well groomed (stylist = around $40 to $50 a visit).

I don't really have a feel for which group is the largest, though. What do most guys spend on their hair? Leave a comment and let me know. Tell other guys to leave comments too, because I suspect I'll need a fairly big sample to be able to draw any convincing conclusions here.

Advice from dear old Dad

My Dad is also a motocycle rider and sent this via email:

"Apparently, some friends are suggesting that you consider a motorcycle in preference to a scooter. A big caution at this point. Every person I know who is a rider will offer this advice... start small (in terms of engine size) and work your way up. The bike I restored and ride (a Honda CL 350 Scrambler) has a 350cc engine and is faster than a bat outta Hell. More power than I would ever need. Unfortunately, a lot of folks who are entering (or returning to) the world of motorcycles buy one of the big ones (something over 650cc) because they 'wanna go fast.' And they do. Interestingly, the mortality rate has jumped considerably because of this market segment.

Smaller bikes (whether they are scooters or motorcycles) give the rider time to become familiar with traffic and handling while not overpowering the novice. Nimble, they will have plenty enough power for around town types of riding. Getcha up and down the hills of San Francisco without a sweat. And do know that scooters have plenty of 'oomph.' Some of those little guys will do 65 mph (and believe me, 65 mph on a bike is plenty fast). While it is true that a motorcycle generally has more power and versatility than a scooter, scooters are not powerless by any means. Don't allow yourself to be talked into something - go with what you feel comfortable.

Finally, this... Is riding a motorcycle fun? Definitely, yes! Is it all fun? Definitely, no. The one important lesson that you will learn in the MSF course is that you MUST adopt a completely different mindset from auto driving when you scoot. Concentration and defensive driving are the essentials of staying alive out there. Yesterday I had a driver nearly force me into the curb when he simply pulled into my lane. No warning, no signaling. Since I was small and nimble enough I could just pull over and let him in. I hit and held my horn. Even then it took him some time to react. When he did he just shrugged his shoulders and smiled. He then went back to talking on his cell phone and adjusting his radio. He, and a lot of drivers just like him are out there. Had I not being paying attention to him BEFORE he made his move, I may not have had enough time to react properly to his lane change.

The moral of this little story is that you really have to be 'ON' when you are riding. It is fun, but you cannot let the fun aspect cloud your personal responsibility to your own well being. In other words, be careful out there."

Goodbye five hundo, hello suit

I bought a suit today. In my book, buying a suit is like buying luggage or insurance. You pretty much have to have it, but you're definitely not happy about spending money on it no matter how good it might be. Suits are expensive, but no matter how good they are they still make you feel frumpy and un-hot.

It's probably different for guys. Pretty much every guy I know looks better in a suit than not in a suit, so I assume most dudes like wearing them. The only thing a suit really does for me is make me look like I'm not an undergraduate, which can be useful depending on the situation. Next on the list is some kind of non-backpack, adult-style luggage to put the suit in.

It's on

I finally got myself signed up for the motorcycle lessons. I should know how to ride and be set to get my license before Thanksgiving. The course includes one-five hour classroom session and two days of riding, all in the third week of November.

There's been pressure on me from several different sources (all male) to skip the Vespa and just get a motorcycle. I'm considering it, but the motorcycle intimidates me a little. It would allow for greater speed and maneuverability, which might make it a safer option. It might be the speed that freaks me out, though.

I need to figure out how often I would actually want to take a motorcycle out of the city. That's the big benefit of a motorcycle over a scooter. You can't take a scooter on the highway because they don't go fast enough. It's unlikely that I would ever ride a motorcycle to class in Berkeley, especially after a work day. Business casual -- skirt, heels, etc. -- doesn't really work on a bike going over the Bay Bridge. Could be super fun to ride to the beach on a sunny weekend, though.

I should move to Arizona

Sometimes I think that all I need to be happy is a little more sunshine. The weather around the Bay has been super summery and I've been blissfully floating through the weekend. I spent most of the weekend down in South Bay or over in Berkeley, which amps up the sun factor even more. I even have a touch of a sunburn from watching the game yesterday, which for those of you who didn't see it, was pretty kick ass. I am the constant proponent of leaving in the third quarter, but this game had me on the edge of my seat until the end. Somehow, I now actually care about Cal football. When did that happen?

No more hot sauce before bed

I'm supposed to be writing a two page paper about tort law or product liability, so of course I'm blogging up a storm.

I had this crazy nightmare last night that I was pregnant. It used to be a recurring nightmare for me back in college. There were many different variations, but nothing as intense and scary as this one. In this particular dream, I'm pretty pregnant by the time I've realized I'm pregnant -- like four or more months -- and my belly hurts, so I'm terrified that there's something wrong with the baby. In the dream, the guy who helped me get pregnant doesn't want me to have a baby, and has little interest in discussing the problem with me. We are touring empty lots and construction sites and I am trying to start a conversation about it. I know I don't want to raise a kid on my own, and am really not ready to be a mother at all, so I don't really want to have a baby either. However, the pain and movement in my belly is sharp and I am terribly worried that something is wrong with the baby and it's not going to be okay. The whole nightmare is filled with not knowing what to do about the pregnancy, being unable to make any decisions about it, but also being absolutely terrified that the baby is hurt or dying and feeling like I love it and want it to be okay more than anything. And on top of that, my whole body was covered in dark purple varicose veins that are a complication of the pregnancy.

Pregnancy must be common subject matter in women's dreams. I'm sure this a straightforward anxiety dream, but it makes me suspect I may be stockpiling a little more anxiety in the back of my brain than I previously thought.

Regret

Should you ever find a mysterious bottle of "Habanero Yucateca" hot sauce in the back of your fridge, do not think to yourself, "How hot could really it be?" and apply it liberally to your bland dinner. Because it is HOT, my friend. Much too hot for your sensitive stomach and any yuppie burrito with sweet potatoes. It is also not likely to mix well with antibiotics.

Haas rankings up across the board

We got another excited email from the dean last Friday. Among other things, he wrote:

"I am delighted to report that the Haas School ranked #8 in BusinessWeek's ranking of full-time MBA programs released yesterday afternoon. This is the first time that the school's MBA program has ranked in the top ten of this ranking, and it was a rise from #17 the last time BusinessWeek MBA rankings came out.

BusinessWeek highlighted Haas, saying that 'The combination of a small class, exceptional faculty, and a collegial atmosphere impressed students.' ... ' Recruiters, meanwhile, were wowed by the quality of the grads.'

In addition to the overall rank, the Haas School was featured this year for having a top-five entrepreneurship program and a top-ten marketing program.

BusinessWeek bases its ranking on feedback from both the full-time MBA class of 2006 and corporate recruiters as well as on faculty research."

I need to find a way to get myself geared up about school again and start taking advantage of all of this.

Quarantined

I have strep throat. Gross. Do a google image search and you'll see what I mean. After a week of doing my best to ignore a horrible sore throat (and pretty much just going to work, coming home and going to bed immediately), I finally sucked it up and went to the doctor. I sat in the Urgent Care waiting room for three hours, they did the swab, and the next morning I got the good news. Now I have about a week and a half's worth of antibiotics to get through. Eighteen hours of antibiotics in my system have already resulted in drastic improvements, thank god.

If I understand the situation correctly, I will have been on antibiotics for enough time to no longer be contagious in about three hours. My roomies will be delighted!

I hate junk mail

And I may have found a way to stop it from being delivered to me. Or at least a way to stop most of it. Some Haas kids started up a new service at www.greendimes.com. For three bucks a month, they will stop your junk mail and plant a tree in your name. For $36.00 you get no junk mail for a year and twelve trees. A bargain, in my opinion.

How does it work? Here's how they explain the service:

"We’ve built a database of all the major direct marketing companies (aka junk mailers) and we send a request to remove your name and address from their mailing lists. These companies are required to remove you from their marketing lists. Also, using the Federal Fair Credit Reporting Act we direct them not to sell, share, or trade your personal information with other companies. Then, to make sure they don’t put you back on their lists, we’ll check up on them regularly."

Needless to say, I'm excited. I hope this service will decrease the amount of time I waste shredding the billions of pre-approved credit card offers I get each week. And for those of you who have argued with me that credit-related junk mail does not pose a threat of identity theft, the greendime people also have this to say:

"One of the most popular ways to steal your identity is to take mail from your mailbox and use the personal information inside the junk letters such as credit card offers."

Really, you should get yourself a shredder. Or at least sign up for this service.

Speaking of cute

In sticking with the crazy cute theme, earlier this week Matti K announced that he has adopted.

Meet Bailey:





Bailey is a seven-month old wiener dog. I was already excited about visiting Matt when I head to NYC next month, but now I am envisioning scenes of us walking Bailey in Central Park, wrapped in scarves... we'll buy roasted nuts from one of those street vendors and Bailey will frolic in fall leaves... then maybe someone famous, like SJP, will jog past us... Oooooooh, I can't wait!

Surfacing

Last weekend I flew out to Washington DC to surprise Clare on her birthday. I was there until late Tuesday night, without a laptop or any school work. The fun of shirking responsibilities, paired with the warm sunny weather in DC, allowed me to fully revert back to summer vaction-style happiness. Spending time with Clare and her family was such a wonderful break. It's amazing how a couple of days away can reconnect you with your goals and ambition and make you excited about life. It has to be the right couple days, though. Maybe it's more about spending those days with the right people.

My trip was the doing of Clare's kick-ass husband Ross. As a result, Ross is pretty high up on the list of great guys -- on both Clare's list and my list. Flying out a friend is a super cool birthday present, and Clare genuinely had no idea what he was up to. Until I have a husband of my own, I think Ross will hold the title of best husband around.

I can't resist throwing in this picture of Ross and Jack, because they're just so dang cute.

New sign-up date

The next time I can call to sign up for motorcycle classes is Tuesday, Oct. 3, and apparently I need to call at 10 am sharp. Who knew so many people want to learn to ride motorcycles? Anyhoo, the reminders last time were great, my friends. Now I just need them earlier in the day.

RB screws up

That has been the theme of this week -- me screwing things up left and right. I'm pretty sure I messed up my second business law writing assignment for lack of ability to read his syllabus correctly, I got a little too drunk and pissed off my gentleman companion, I forgot a teleconference appointment and stood people up, the motorcycle classes were already full by the time I called to sign up, I forgot to pay tuition. All that is left on the list is to lock myself out of the apartment, loose my wallet, and get my period and bleed through my white pants. Jeezus.

Kay's new blog

Kay, who is an expert on all things culinary (at least as far as I'm concerned), has started a new blog on topics related to food and restaurants. Dog food, too. She's just getting going with BringerBlog, but check it out and offer up some comments of encouragement, or give her suggestions on sights to see in Paris.

All the dudes I know are about to say, "I told you so!"

But that's okay. I can admit it: The new Zach Braff movie, The Last Kiss was kinda bad. Well, maybe not flat out bad, but certainly not good. The basic premise for the film was to take every phase of a romantic relationship possible (contemplating commitment, married with kid, recent split up, causally dating, married thirty years, etc.) and show how much it completely and totally sucks. Throw in some completely irrelevant sex scenes and gratuitous boob shots, and you have yourself a movie. I'm really not sure there was any takeaway, other than the message that relationships are always going to be imperfect and not entirely fulfilling, so it's really not that big of a deal to cheat.

I'm still at least partially in love with Zach Braff, however. Alright, alright... totally in love.

Inspirational quote of the day

"Worry affects the circulation, the heart, the glands, the whole nervous system, and profoundly affects the health. You have never known a man who died from over work, but many who died from doubt."

-- Charles W. Mayo

NEWS FLASH: Linda moving to the hood!

That's right, Linda is moving to Noe Valley in October. She's going to live about four blocks away from your truly. We'll be neighbors! This is by far the best news I've gotten all week. She's moving in with two female roommates. Here's what she had to say:

"The ladies are awesome. We were sitting outside at Pasta Pomodoro with their little dogs and I was laughing a lot and it just felt fantastic. They're both recent NYC transplants getting PhDs in psychology so they're totally interesting and cool. The room isn't great shakes but the rest of the package feels so good I'm just gonna take it."

I'm so excited I could just about pee my pants. I've already started work on trying to convince her to join my scooter gang. Blonde chicks on Vespas in Noe Valley = bad ass.

Good news for Haas

This update came this afternoon in an email from the dean:

"I am pleased to share the great news that the Haas School ranked #5 in The Wall Street Journal's national ranking of full-time MBA programs published in today's paper. This is the first time that a UC full-time MBA program has ranked in the top five of the major rankings.

The Wall Street Journal bases its ranking entirely on feedback from corporate recruiters, who applauded Haas graduates for their creative and entrepreneurial streak. It also quoted Devan Cross, a survey respondent and special-operations general manager for Pulte Homes Inc., as saying, 'Students at Haas are among the most talented and capable of any M.B.A. program. They are enthusiastic about making a real difference in their careers, particularly if they can do it in a team-oriented fashion rather than in a cutthroat situation. The latter does not suit the typical Haas student.'"

Makes me feel just a little bit better about all those tuition dollars I'm paying (and borrowing).

Motorcycle class

I've determined that the next step in my quest to own a scooter is sucessfully signing up for a class that will teach me how to ride a motorcycle. From what I can tell, the classes available in San Francisco fill up super fast. I need to call as early as possible on Tuesday, September 26 to sign up for classes being held in the last week of October. It will be one Thursday night of classroom instruction, followed by half days on the Saturday and Sunday right after. The weekend stuff is actually on a motorcycle! Wheee!

Please remind me to call on the 26th.

I take all it back

A) I am a weenie. Riding on Hip E.'s motorcycle wasn't scary, it was just super fun -- even on the Bay Bridge. Probably helps that he is a totally safe driver. The whole experience has pushed me even further in my belief that getting a scooter is a fantastic idea. Traffic and parking become complete non-issues. To be honest, I'm not sure why more people don't use scooters or motorcycles in the city.

B) Cal won! Yay Bears! Maybe my season tickets won't be a complete waste of money. Actually, even if the football team does go back to totally sucking, I am now completely obsessed with the marching band. Their half-time routine was all Blondie hits, and it rocked. We also happened to be at the Bear's Lair later when they came back to play the fight song at Sather Gate, so we came out to watch the whole thing... I am well down the road to becoming a Cal Band groupie.

It's good day to die

Hip E. is on his way over right now to pick me up. We're supposed to ride over to the Cal game on his motorcyle. I am absolutely, 100 % terrified. Adrenaline pumping through my body -- the whole works. I suspect this is a sign that I need a little more excitement in my life, as most people don't classify motorcyle rides across the Bay Bridge as an extreme sport. I wish I had a Xanax.

The West Point Inn

I've been meaning to tell y'all about this place for months now. I visted it a few times over the summer. The West Point in is a little lodge with a handful of individual "cold water" cabins (no electricity) up on the top of Mt. Tam. You hike or bike into the place. It's a couple of miles on the Old Stagecoach Road trail from the nearest spot you can leave your car overnight.





The organization that operates the inn does fundraising pancake breakfasts there every month, which make for a nice morning hike (it's really more like a stroll after you stuff yourself with pancakes). However, the coolest thing is that you can also arrange to stay in the cabins. There's a huge, fully equipped kitchen that all of the guests share to prepare meals. You just pack your food and booze, roll in, hang out, and look at the views. It's one of the most relaxing places I've been.





The views, if it's clear, are absolutely amazing. We somehow got lucky enough to be there on a perfectly clear night, with a huge full moon. It was light enough to throw horse shoes at three in the morning (though I will admit to losing one in the bushes, but I think that has more to do with me having terrible aim).



One of the biggest reasons that this place is such an awesome, stress-free escape, is how close to the city it is. Drive for a half and hour, take a little walk, and suddenly it suddenly feels like you're a million miles away from everything. You can easily go on a Friday night after work with minimal hassle.

Jenica covers the Burn

Beloved Jenica went to Burning Man for the first time this year. You can check out a review of her trip (including photos) on her RealTravel blog.

All the Burning Man folk seem to slowly be tricking back into town. Last night we had a late dinner with a fireman who had volunteered to be part of the fire and paramedic crew out at Burning Man. He said bunch of firemen from all over the West head out there and volunteer to take care of any potential emergency situation (there was only one death at Burning Man this year, which is apparently low). The volunteers take shifts, and when they're not on their shift, they party it up like everyone else.

In order to stay in their camp, everyone had to volunteer for some kind of duty. He mentioned a couple of women somehow landed the job of washing the firemen... gets real dusty out there, I guess. Yep, I'm still processing that one. And trying to figure out who to get in touch with to volunteer for such a key assignment.

Another good poo story from Clare

It's been awhile since Clare checked in to update us on any of her adventures in parenting. But, it looks like the wait was worth it. She's got another semi-disgusting story involving Jack, Ross, and a lot of poop:

"It's Saturday. Jackson is seven and a half months old. We're finally getting him to sleep more through the night, and we have a pretty good bedtime routine down. I'm in the bathroom, filling the tub for step 1a in Operation Jack to Bed, Ross is performing step 1b: getting Jackson undressed and ready for his bath. Normally we'd have a fun bath, then get him dressed in fresh diaper and snugly sleeper (steps 2 & 3), give him a final feeding (step 4), and read a few stories (step 5), before putting him in the crib in hopes he'll fall fast asleep (step 6).

I'm thinking through the sequence in my mind, easy to do with the faucet drowning out all other sound, when I realize Ross is yelling for me (he and I were in neighboring rooms, but man, that running water is loud). I turn off the water, and head to Jackson's room -- to a sight I never thought I'd see.

Ross is standing with his back to me, his hands about face level holding Jackson's ankles. What? I did a double take. A poop-covered baby foot is stretched skywards, a poop-covered baby butt is aimed -- dangerously close -- at Ross’s face, and the rest of Jackson is dangling naked over the changing table.

At that point, I REALLY wanted to take a picture but that wouldn't have been fair to Ross who, with hands covered in poop, had little idea how he had gotten into that situation. Apparently his super-dad skills had gone to work, making a quick grab for Jack before he rolled off the changing table (after having just rolled himself through his dirty diaper).

I grabbed as many wet-wipes as I could and went to work quickly so Jackson's head wouldn't explode from all the blood rushing into it (as I understand it, babies are not meant to be dangling upside down for extended periods of time). With tears in our eyes from laughing, Ross and I de-pooped the kid, plopped him into the tub, and plopped ourselves back into our regular bedtime routine. Jackson laughed to whole time, too."

Mourning Shasta

Sadly, I will not be houseboating in Shasta AGAIN this year. Last year I missed it because of B-school orientation (aka the lamest weekend of my life) and this year the entire trip has fallen through. It is truly a tragedy and the only thing we have to blame it on is Turd and Goose's wedding.

Hip E. has chosen a much more positive, optimistic reaction:

"Mark your calendars, people. Next year's Shasta is going to be an explosion of pent-up partying: heat, rage, lust, rock 'n roll, skin, floaty things, beer, aviators, and fun. Missing Shasta two years in a row would indicate the onset of acute Old Age, something that I don't have any time for, and neither do you. I encourage all of you to do something really fun next weekend, and while you're doing it, think about how a year from now you are going to be doing something ten times more funner, on a boat, in a lake, in California, with Peetoom."

More about the scooter scheme

I've been doing more research on scooters:

They get 70 miles per gallon and go 40-100 miles per hour, depending on the model.

If Americans were to switch just 10% of their total mileage to scooters, they would consume 14-18 million gallons less fuel per day and carbon dioxide emissions could be reduced by 324 million pounds per day as well. (Source ICR survey, May 2006)

On an individual level, they could also reduce your fuel consumption by approximately 58%, and carbon dioxide emissions by 80%.

Hip was right about the motorcycle license, and it looks like it will cost anywhere between $400-1000 to insure one of the things for a year.

Don’t tell my mom

I’m thinking about buying a Vespa. I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a car for the last year or so, but it always comes down to it being too much of a hassle (parking in the city, tickets, maintenance, etc.) and too expensive for how much I’d use it. Now that I’m working downtown and don’t have to trek to the East Bay daily, getting a scooter seems to make a lot of sense. I could put a little basket on the back and scoot around town, run errands, do my grocery shopping. A scooter would be easy to park, much cheaper than a car, and super cute, too. I think they come in pink!

Hip E. told me that I need to get a motorcycle license to drive a scooter, so I guess my next step is taking the class to get the license.

Purple Vitamin Water

It's been awhile since I've done a product review, but I am taken with purple Vitamin Water and I want the world to know.



This fruit punchy, gatorade-like beverage, officially called "Revive," is marketed as a hangover cure -- and I think it actually works. I've done extensive testing, and I swear it makes you feel way better after too much boozin'. Supposedly it's the potassium and B vitamins in it that help you out, but I would buy it for the copy on the label alone:

"If you woke up tired, you probably need more sleep. If you woke up drooling at your desk, you probably need a new job. If you woke up with a headache, on a ferris wheel, wearing a toga, you probably need answers, not to mention this product... and if you're like our boss, Mike, and woke up married to an Elvis impersonator, you probably need a lawyer."

Okay, okay. It's not that funny. They change the label every couple of months and the last one was better. I still think it's a miracle cure, though, and highly recommend you pick a few up after your next big night out.

School has started

I'm back in classes as of Monday. Though I've been in a horrible mood this week, I'm pretty pleased with the courses I picked. If all goes according to plan with the waitlists, I'll be taking business law and new business development. New business development basically explores entrepreneurship within companies -- how big old corporations can remain innovative and compete with start-ups in new markets. Since I'm now working for a colossal company that's turning 200 next spring, it seems like it should be useful.

One week of balancing class with the new job finds me coming to terms with the fact that I'm not going to be able to continue my late night shenanigans every night of the week, unless I want to turn myself into the crankiest, run-down bitch in San Francisco. The sad part is that I think the post-class drinks were my favorite part of B-school. Alas, it's time for RB to start acting like a responsible adult.

The recent rough transition to responsible adult has included a lot of business/business casual attire. Seemingly gone are the days of wearing flip flops, jeans, and a "Reading is Sexy" t-shirt to the office. Earlier this week, while out near campus with a bunch of other Haasholes, I was grabbing my bag off a bar stool when I young man (maybe in his early 20s) smiled at me and said, "Don't worry -- we're watching your bag. We're protecting it for you, I swear." I told him I needed my bag because it was time for me to go home. "Aww, don't go!" he says. And at that point in the conversation where it would be commonplace for such a young man to offer to buy me a drink to get me to stay and talk to him, he looks at what I was wearing (white button down shirt with gray stripes, black skirt, heels) and says, "Oh, but I'm sure you have to go to work in the morning." I have never felt so boring and old. Thanks, dude.

Over the next couple months I've got to come up with some gear that is professional and polished, but also sassy. If I'm gonna do this corporate thing, I'm gonna do it with flare.

It's the little things

I have a lot of pretty fabulous benefits at my new job, but there is one thing missing: there's no milk provided in the coffee room. There's just a Costco-sized container of non-dairy creamer. I was told that if we want milk, we have to bring our own into the office. This little thing is driving me to distraction. I'm not organized enough to bring in milk regularly, and the times I have remembered I noticed it just gets consumed by everyone else in the office, anyway. The powder is gross! AND I found out that it makes permanent stains on clothes. Coffee with no powedered creamer comes out in the wash, but the creamer adds some crazy staining component that is impossible to get rid of. Makes you wonder what kinda chemicals are in there, exactly.

I think I might be willing to sacrifice my free MOMA membership for a regular supply of fresh milk.

I don't want to be a Girlfriend

Last week, while on a historic walking tour of Chinatown, I got a fortune cookie containing the following fortune:

"An unexpected relationship will soon become permanent."

Absolutely nothing in life is permanent, but this particular fortune tripped me out a little. There's a certain relationship in my life (which could definitely be described as unexpected) that has recently developed to the point where I find myself wondering, "Am I ready to be a Girlfriend again?"

Girlfriend. The word makes me cringe. It sounds so young and so casual, but at the same time it comes with all of these restrictions and behaviors. It's a role that hasn't always treated me well. I've noticed that being someone's Girlfriend immediately causes me to do all sorts of weird stuff like get jealous, do laundry, make dinners, grocery shop, and go through occasional episodes of pouting and nagging. Not fun. There's also a strong connection in my mind between being a Girlfriend and being taken for granted. Experience tells me that life is far less adventurous and exciting when I'm a Girlfriend. Obviously, I'd prefer to move forward without any of these potential side effects.

But there can be a lot of nice things about having a Boyfriend, if he's a good one. And sometimes you feel so strongly about someone that you really can't fight it, even if you know being his Girlfriend isn't going to be perfect.

Maybe I just need to come up with a different word.

Better leave that one at home

I'm flying to Portland for my high school reunion on Friday. Today my mom called today to warn me that she heard they're not letting some padded bras on planes now. Apparently the liquid in the padded bras that use the little removable cushion of gel in order to appear and feel more authentically boob-like may be a security hazard.

Not that I wear padded bras or anything.

Listen up, Tourists and Suburbanites

You are making me crazy! Either walk up the escalator, or stand your sedentary self on the right side of the thing so people can get around you. Some of us need to get to our new jobs on time.

Just following policy

My new company's blogging policy states that I must include the following text somewhere on my blog:

The opinions expressed here are my own and are not those of my employer. This blog is not sponsored by or endorsed by my employer.

So there it is. When I rave about prosecco and Jake Gyllenhal, I am speaking strictly for myself. And maybe Inga.

Working girl

Sorry about the lack of posts lately. I started my new job last week. The excitement and anxiety of being the new girl in the office has been sucking up a lot of my energy and downtime, not to mention the stack of books and book proposals I'm slowly working my way through.

Sadly, my new employer has an official policy regarding blogging about work (basically, that I shouldn't do it), so I can't write too much about my new gig. I will say that it's the most traditional, corporate, real job I have ever had. For instance, I'm not supposed to wear jeans or t-shirts and I already have a business trip to NYC scheduled. Next thing you know, I'll have one of those little black roller bags and a BlackBerry. All new territory for RB. Maybe they make roller bags in pink?

I will also say that I really like my job so far. It's challenging, dynamic, and super exciting. From everything I've seen, the company seems like an excellent organization to be a part of.

Unemployment is good

This is my big week of freedom. My last day at Avalon was last Friday, but I don't start the new job until next Monday. I must say, unemployment is one of the best things I've ever experienced. I did nothing today. Really -- nothing. I slept until eleven, I drank some coffee, did some reading, a little blogging, sat in the sun, talked on the phone. I am toying with the idea of taking a shower and changing out of my jammies, but to be honest it sounds a little ambitious. Life is amazing in the Bay Area during the summer. It's even better when you have not a care in the world.

Big Cat in action

Thought you might appreciate a little fluffiness in your afternoon. This is Big Cat, my parents' cat, and this is pretty much the extent of his movement most days (he might also make the effort to bite your ankles):

More wedding photos

You've already seen the respectable portion of my wedding photos, so let's move on to the always entertaining dance floor collection.





Goose and Turd's looked very lovey-dovey during their first dance. Something tells me these two really like each other!





There wasn't exactly a mad rush when the DJ opened the dance floor to everyone. Turd's big bro, Load, took control of the situation and commanded to the masses to get funky.





For the most part, the masses responded by hightailing it to the bar. Turd's mom was the first to heed Load's call.





And they set a fine example for the rest of us.





Things really started to heat up when the ladies got to it.





No one could resist the pull of the music, or the pull of Jamie, and we all started to have a super fun time.





Wine down! Very dramatic -- glass on the dance floor.





Ben wins the honor of having the most unique and captivating dance moves, which this picture really doesn't do justice to. You really just can't capture that sort of thing on film. However, I do like how this photo makes him look like a transparent, supernatural being.





Goose and Turd had some impressive moves of their own. I think this is their first official boogie as man and wife.





This is definitely one of my favorite all-time pictures of Hip E.

25ish days until school starts

The end of summer hurtling toward me at frightening speeds, and it has me in a pretty bad mood this morning. There are only four weekends left before I'll have to return to spending my weekends meeting with study groups and reading about topics like how taxes impact accounting procedures. Typing that just made me throw up in my mouth a little.

I'm so depressed.

Ben Poland, Class of 2000

Yes, those are the embossed cards they give you to personalize your high school graduation announcements... just one of many slick moves that drove the ladies wild that night.

The photos you've been waiting for (installment 1)

Drumroll, please!

So, if you haven't heard, the wedding of Turd and Goose was absolutely fabulous. Goose looked amazing! A. Maze. Ing. The food was good, the wine was flowing, the friends and family were dancing, and love was in the air. People were nervous, then elated. There were no major injuries (well, I did hear that Thrill may have had a little run in, but I have no confirmed details on that). There's really not much more you can ask for in a wedding. All reports have confirmed that a crazy good time was had by everyone involved.

I'll get to it and kick off the wedding coverage with some pictures of the ceremony...





Happy attendees, imported from Cali, anxiously await the start of the ceremony.





Turd counts to ten in hopes of calming his nerves while he waits for the wedding party to start their trip down the aisle. Turd was indeed nervous, but to be fair it didn't seem that Turd was at all nervous about marrying Goose. Turd's nervousness seemed to center more on having every person he has ever known staring intently at him for at least a half an hour.





The grrrrr-oomsmen.





Turd and Goose are watching a singing performance. That's the woman who married them standing off to the right, beaming out positive energy in her mary-janes.




The big kiss! Sorry it's blurry, I was overcome with emotion. My favorite things about this photo are how happy everyone looking at them is, and the fact that you can see Brittie taking a photo in front of me. Those were two essential elements of the evening -- everyone being really happy and Brit taking photos.

Flight canceled, wedding update delayed

My flight from PDX to Oakland was cancelled on Monday because a bird flew into our engine. However, they didn't just cancel the flight. They decided to make us watch the plane service dudes fiddle with the plane for over four hours (the plane was parked outside the window, taunting us with it's seeming availability) and THEN they canceled the flight. And THEN we had to wait in a line of about eighty people for two customer service people to rebook us each individually on alternative, later flights. At the end of the day, it took me 12 hours to get from Portland to San Francisco, including a good three hours spent in Seattle. I finally arrived home around 10:30 pm and that is why you didn't get your precious wedding update.

To compensate me for my 12 hours, Alaska Airlines did give me a $25 voucher good for a discount on the next ticket I purchase. Oh yeah, they also gave me a $6 voucher, good towards a meal at any a PDX food vendor. I restrained myself from pointing out to them that the last time I checked, 12 hours of my time was worth at least (AT LEAST) $500 on the open market.

By linking this experience with my return-from-Rome-JFK-fiasco, I have concluded that I am jinxed when it comes to air travel. I'll be staying local for as long as is humanly possible.

Turd + Goose 4Ever

I'm up late packing for the weekend. For those of you who may not have heard, Turd and Goose are getting married in Portland on Saturday night. I'm totally geared up for the wedding. I'm looking forward to seeing Turd and Goose and I can't wait to take part in all the wedding-related antics. Plus, I hear that Portland is super hot and sunny right now, which pretty much makes it heaven.

As far as I know, Hip E is still wrestling with his best man's toast. This toast may quite possibly be the most anticipated event of the summer. It's definitely been the most talked about. It seems like we should all be able to place bets on some aspect of the toast in order to make the anticipation and buzz just that much more exciting, but I'm not sure what exactly it is we'd be betting on. There's really no way to quantify funniness. Other suggestions?

You can count on RBlog for a full review of the matrimonial festivities next Monday.

News Flash! RB lands new job

I was offered a job acquiring books for Wiley early last week and I accepted the offer. I gave my two weeks notice to my current employer on Friday. My last day at Avalon is August 4. I'll then take a week off and start my new gig on August 14.

I'm going to be working on the business and management line for the Jossey-Bass imprint. They publish a lot of books that will likely only interest you if you're an MBA-type kid. Some of the top sellers include The Five Dysfunctions of a Team and Death by Meeting (stop rolling your eyes -- they're interesting and useful books! they sell hundreds of thousands of copies!). I'm super excited about working on this particular subject matter. It will make my Haas life and professional life sync up extremely well, for the next two years at least. The new job is downtown, which cuts my daily commute from an hour and a half to about fifteen minutes, and opens all kinds of doors for convenient shopping and socializing.

I can't stop

I know I need to curb my compulsion to post every single picture of Jack that Clare sends me, but I can't help it. He's so cute and I love him. These are from their recent trip to Michigan:








This is Jackson playing with his Aunt Anna. I can see the family resemblance.





Summertime and the livin' is easy...




Haaaands, touching hands. Reaching out... touching meee... touch-ing YOOOOOU!

Showtime for the Hoff

Thank god Denise passed this along (I think she found it on Salon.com):

David Hasselhoff, the Musical
It's painful to imagine a show tune about a futuristic talking car, but that's exactly what David Hasselhoff hopes to bring to the world. He's planning a stage production based on his own life, from "The Young and the Restless" through "Knight Rider" through "Baywatch" and beyond. "I am also doing a heart-rendering [sic] set on my life and the mistakes I have made," says Hasselhoff. "It sounds like a bad joke, but it is really going to be a good show ... totally campy. It's written by the same people who wrote Bette Midler's show and produced by the people who produced 'Chicago' in London." The musical is expected to debut in Melbourne, Australia, though no date has yet been set. (Celebrity Week)

I hope (and fully expect) that this show will have a long run in San Francisco.

Vote now

I need help in settling a little dispute. Do you think meatloaf is a normal thing to order in a diner? I'm not asking whether you would order it, or whether you think meatloaf is disgusting or not -- just whether or not you think is it something that is:

A) commonly found on diner menus

and

B) commonly ordered in diners.

Thank you for your participation.

Kick the weekend off right

Here's a HUGE dose of cuteness to put you in a giggly mood for the weekend:





Uncle John and Jackson... Cute and cuter.





I didn't confirm with Clare, but I think the food eating thing is relatively new for Jack.





I'm enouraging Clare to start Jackson's modeling career now. Look out ladies, this one is gonna be trouble.




Tee hee hee! Buns.

The swimming hole

Last weekend I went up to the best campsite EVER. It was super relaxing couple of days spent splashing around, drinking Tecates, and soaking up sunshine. There's a swimming hole about a mile away from the site, and we spent a day hanging out there, mostly goofing around in the water and throwing rocks at things. The water was cold and crystal clear. It was so painful to have to leave when the sun finally started going down.

I tried to post a picture of this swimming hole last summer. It turned out blurry and you couldn't really make out how amazing it is. I took these last weekend, while standing on the top of a huge boulder overlooking the deepest part of the pool. I think you could probably jump off of it if you had no fear of breaking bones.








Who wants to go up there with me in August?

Woooooooyeeee!

Lance and Matthew... dear lord! Is it hot in here?

Sourdough bread works kinda like yogurt

I was recently explaining Nadia's mom's yogurt process to a friend, and somehow we got to talking about sourdough bread and how that process works. Neither one of us knew. Neither did anyone I've asked in the days since. Seems silly with most everyone I talk to living in SF, so I looked it up. Here it is, for your general edification -- how sourdough bread is made.

From Exploratorium.edu:

"Out of yeast? Don’t worry, it’s not hard to find. The feisty critters that make bread rise actually live all around us. In fact, the use of yeast in bread-making probably got its start accidentally, when 'wild' yeast caused doughs meant for unleavened flatbreads to ferment.

To this day, many bakers still use 'wild' yeast to make bread, especially in San Francisco, a city famous for its sourdough. To make sourdough, bakers use a 'starter,' a piece of dough in which yeast is continually reproducing with the help of regular doses of flour from the baker. The yeast that gets the starter 'started' usually comes from the air in the kitchen or bakery where the bread is made, but some starter recipes also use store-bought yeast.

In addition to flour, water, and yeast, starter also contains bacteria. When these bacteria feed on the sugars in flour, they produce acidic by-products. This is what gives sourdough its sour taste.

Actually, all doughs contain at least some bacteria. So why aren’t all breads sour? In doughs made with bakers’ yeast (the kind you buy in the store), the yeast outnumber the bacteria. Since both compete for the same sugars, the yeast win out, and the bacteria don’t have a chance to produce their acidic by-products. In sourdough, yeast and bacteria are more closely balanced, so the bacteria have a chance to add their flavors to the bread."


Also, from KitchenProject.com:

"During the gold rush days in California, some of the Boudin family who were well known master bakers from France came to the San Francisco area. They found out that the sourdough culture there was very unique and they became very famous for their bread with this special flavor. The miners flocked to this bakery every morning for this special tasting bread. Since 1849 they have been using the same sourdough culture, which they call a 'mother dough' and the same recipe, flour, water, a pinch of salt and some of the this 'mother dough.' So important is their 'mother dough' it was heroically saved by Louise Boudin during the Great San Francisco Earthquake of 1906."  

Hot new verb

Yesterday, Inga inadvertently made up the best verb ever. In typing an email about this Friday night, she somehow managed to give birth to the term "drunking." It's a combination of drinking, getting drunk, and wandering your way through various drunken antics. Very useful!

For instance:

"So anyway, Becky and I were drunking around on Friday after our haircuts..."

or

"This has been a hellish week. I need to let loose and do some serious drunking this weekend."

Hooray, Italia!

I've been meaning to post photos from last weekend, but I got a little distracted. I watched half the game sitting on a fire hydrant on a street corner, and the other half crammed into a packed bar with every other person who thought it would be cool to watch the game in North Beach. The photos really don't capture the crazed glee that filled the streets when Italy won. Champagne was flying everywhere, fans were dancing and singing, and they had to shut down the streets in the hood for pretty much the rest of the afternoon. I celebrated with a prosciutto and mozerella sandwich. Yummy.

This one is even better!

I love it when he dances and pretends to be Satan! Could someone please send me a "Don't HASSEL the HOFF" t-shirt immediately?

The Hoff does it again

Oh, Hoff! How do you manage to maintain the constant, extreme weirdness? And why do I enjoy it so much?

Kinda sounds like he's singing "Asian man" or "aging man" through most of this amazing rendition.

A Stove of One's Own

I blew a couple hundo this week at REI. I shouldn't be allowed in that store without a specific list of items pre-approved for purchase and someone to make me stick to the list. I'm now the proud owner of a Windpro remote-canister stove, by MSR (among other things). The stove was the main purpose for my trip to REI.





It's kinda cute. It can boil a liter of water in 4.25 minutes and it weighs only 10.5 ounces. Whoooo! Yhee!

This stove (and the ultra-light set of camp pots that I bought with it) signify a step in a new direction for me. I'm slowly but surely putting together my own complete set of camping gear. The only thing I still need to get is a tent. With that acquisition, I will be able to camp or backpack alone without having to borrow anything (except maybe a car). But that's not really the point.

Traditionally, camping has always been a couple-y sort of activity for me (since high school, really). Camping is not obviously romantic, since you're away from things like soft bedding and warm showers, but it can be romantic in a different way. You have to be pretty down with someone to spend days together with only trees and a creek for entertainment -- without the distractions of the Internet, phones, email, TV, or IM. You have to think your company is funny and interesting, and you have to be okay just doing nothing together. Peeing in bushes and checking each other for poison oak brings a whole new kind of intimacy to a relationship. I suppose it's for these reasons, that 95 percent of the camping I've done has been with a long-term boyfriend... someone whose preferences and habits I'm already very familiar and comfortable with, and, more relevant to this discussion, someone whose camping gear filled in the gaps in my collection of gear to make a complete set. I believe the biggest and most sincere commitment I've ever made to someone was to buy a set of sleeping bags that zip together to make one big bag for two.

The move to the single way of life has left me temporarily unable to camp in the manner which I am accustomed to. So ultimately, I view this camp stove as a step toward independent womanhood and self-sufficiency. The point is that I love camping and want to make sure it is always a part of my life.

Paris vs Jessica: It's on!

This week's Us Weekly includes a poll that asks which will be the song of the summer -- Paris Hilton's Stars are Blind or Jessica Simpson's Public Affair. Us asked one hundred people in NYC's Fifth Avenue (as they always do) and a full eighty-one percent voted for Jessica's Public Affair.

Upon reading this I was driven to the Internet... Though I'd heard about all the cameo appearances in Jessica's upcoming video, I hadn't heard the song. It's super poppy in the traditional girls'-night-out-style. If songs could be pink, sparkly, and candy-coated, it would be. I think I might love it. You can listen to it here.

I must say I'm surprised that Jessica Simpson knows what the phrase "carte blanche" means. Her co-lyric writer must have thrown that one in there.

It's not horrible

Some of you may be aware that Paris Hilton is making a foray into the music world. She's been working on putting together the final music video for her song, Stars Are Blind. I'm not sure if that title is supposed to be ironic, or what.

Before I go on, let me make it clear that I do not like Paris Hilton. She seems vapid, mean, boring, and trashy. Predictably, the video footage is inane. However, I've heard the song a couple of times now and I have to admit, I don't think it's horrible. It's sort of catchy. I mean, yeah, it's dumb, of course. But, I was expecting something on par with K-Fed's recent music attempts. This, however, is the sort of thing I could picture getting stuck in my head after listening to 92.7 a little too long while sitting in a parked car on a hot day, or maybe the kind of thing I would wind up dancing to at 2 am in the Gerards' living room. Actually, it would need a faster beat for that.

Something tells me I will regret making this opinion of mine public. Oh, and you can check out the song and video here.

Just dreams

In the past few weeks I've been having tons of those dreams that you don't realize are dreams until half way through your day, when something triggers that memory and you realize that it doesn't make enough sense to be a real memory. For instance, I recently dreamt that my cell phone broke in half (not like a part falling off, but that it literally split into two chunks right across the middle). It was very disressing to me. On a different night, I dreamt that my toes were covered in dark fur that was long enough to braid. You'd think that dream would have been kind of disturbing, but in it I was just running my fingers through the fur thinking, "Hmmm... Maybe I should start shaving my toes."

Still not quite right

It's well into Wednesday night, the weekend is right around the corner, and I've still got a touch of the SNB. Usually it doesn't stick with me like this. I've pinpointed a few things that are getting me down. At least a few that I will admit to on this blog.

1) He-who-shall-remain-nameless* had me all geared up about the possibility of a camping trip this weekend. Now he can't go. I was envisioning a weekend filled with guilty pleasures purchased at Wal-Mart (tube tops, camo trucker hats, lawnchairs), campfires, packet meals, and floating around in an ice cold swimming hole, but now I will be in the city. It's good that I'll be in the city, I suppose. I can use the time to do useful things I've been putting off, like taking my duvet to the cleaners, doing some research at the library, and renting X-Men II.

2) It seems like almost everyone I know is either out of town, or tied up with work or family commitments this week and weekend. Really, it's almost as if it were a planned evacuation of San Francisco. I'll admit that I've never been very good with alone time, but it feels like absolute torture to be on my own for most of a midsummer weekend. Maybe I'm just being dramatic...

3) The Fountainhead has gone from "not very uplifting," to flat out depressing. She loves Howard Roark, but she can't be with him because she doesn't know herself and she can't bear to watch his excellence be crushed in an average, imperfect world. For me, the characters are only digestible on a purely symbolic level, especially when you throw in the fact that everyone in the book is obsessed with architecture. I expected this book to have a similar impact on me as Atlas Shrugged, but it's not at all.

4) The scale says I gained five pounds eating samosas and roti last weekend. Ugh. I feel like a blonde hippopotamus.


*You know who you are.

What is up with you people?

I have received about 400 emails in the past two days commenting on some aspect of some item I've recently posted on RBlog. Comment in the comments section, already! It's not that I don't like hearing from you, but come on. It's what the comments section of the blog is there for -- so you can comment. Work with me.

Prosecco at TJ's

Prosecco is on its way to the mainstream! Trader Joe's is now selling it. I discovered this a couple weeks ago, while browsing their selection of fine wines under $10. It goes without saying that I had to try a bottle. The brand is called Zonin.

Sadly, it's not very good. Too sweet and dull, no zing (hmm... I think I've used those same words to describe a date). I've had many bottles of prosecco from Plump Jack and A.G. Ferrari that are much, much better for not much more money. I won't bag on it too much, though. Any step in the direction of prosecco being easily accessible is a step in the right direction, in my humble opinion.

Defining The Relationship (DTR)

SNB (see below) reminded me of another amusing and very useful acronym I've been hearing tossed around lately. I think it was Nadia who first called it to my attention.

DTR, another term for The Talk, is an abbreviation of "defining the relationship." I've heard DTR used in a couple of ways:

"We DTRed last night. He said he's not seeing other people anymore."

"I dunno how it happened. We were just sitting there talking about whether or not to order a pizza and all of the sudden, bam! DTR. At least we're on the same page now."

"You've been seeing her a couple of months. Are you gonna DTR?"

Sunday Night Blues (SNB)

I have an absolutely horrible case of them tonight, and it's a Tuesday. The unavoidable reality about a great weekend is that I'm going to feel miserable when it comes to a close. The necessary downtime on a Sunday night (in this case Tuesday) always leaves me feeling aimless, lonely, and dreading work the next morning. Years of experience have taught me that I'll be fine once I'm back in the routine of the week, but that does nothing to buoy my spirits while in the throes of the SNB.

Tonight I've been trying to distract myself by tearing through The Fountainhead. It's not terribly uplifting, however, so I resorted to baking brownies. A friend has drilled this simple formula into my brain over the past year: Brownies = a quick temporary antidote to any form of malaise. So far, he hasn't been wrong. Even when it doesn't work perfectly, it still makes the apartment warm, cozy, and chocolate-scented. Plus, any situation with brownies is usually better than the same situation with no brownies.

Homemade yogurt

This weekend, I found out that you can make yogurt at home. I am mystified by this process. I've never heard of anyone making homemade yogurt. Makes sense, though, as it obviously doesn't grow in those plastic cups. Nadia's mom makes all the yogurt their family eats, and I think it tastes a lot better than yogurt from the store.

Here's the basic process:

1) Boil a bunch of milk in a casserole-type dish (we were told Corningware with a glass lid). It doesn't matter what kind of milk. It can be skim, 1%, whatever.

2) Let the milk cool down so it's not hot, but still warm. Add about a tablespoon of the yogurt culture (which is just some of the leftover yogurt from the last batch of yogurt you had).

3) Put the lid on the yogurt and then wrap it in a towel. Put the whole thing someplace where it will maintain its temperature for about four hours, like a camping-size cooler. Apparently, if it's a warm day, you could also just set it in the oven (but leave the oven off).

After four to five hours, you check it and it should be yogurt. You put it in the fridge after that and add your flavorings, if you wanted any. Nadia's mom said that people bring the cultures that they use from India (wonder how that gets past customs?) and we're going to talk her into giving us some of her yogurt to take home so we can try and make our own.

A few more wedding shots

I took a nap, but I'm still pretty out of it. It might be because I've eaten six meals in the last four hours and that it's eight million degrees in the OC, which doesn't motivate me to do much. Besides taking a shower, downloading photos from last night has been my big achievement for the day.





Roomies of 1288, looking very respectable. I think this is the most dressed up we've ever seen each other. I guess that's not saying much, because usually when I see them I'm wandering from the kitchen to the bathroom in pink duck pajamas. This might actually be only the third time I've been out of our apartment with both Nadia and Antia since I've been living with them.





Nadia's cousins and her sister (Aman, in purple), looking lovely in their rainbow of saris. The one in the middle is actually a lengha (not a sari), which is a top with a skirt, instead of the big wrapped up piece of fabric that makes the skirt and shawl of a sari.





Nadia's mom and dad show us all how it's done.





Shalu and Uncle on the dance floor. Shalu let me borrow the lengha I wore that night.





I'm not sure how all these ladies dance in the saris without them coming unwound. They're held up with special folding techniques and about 10 safety pins -- there's no way I'd be able to walk in one.




Late in the evening and I am still trying to master the lightbulb dance. Unfortunately, I am the whitest white girl ever.