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.