My So-Called Blog

Man On The Street

Michael — Wed, 27 Jun 2007 06:33:23 GMT

As I was waiting on a friend outside a Salvation Army storefront, I witnessed a rather stumpy and boisterous guy walking by who made a very non-helpful comment to a passed out homeless person laying on the sidewalk. He uttered the phrase "See what drinking does to ya?" as he continued marching away. I looked up the street at this ape/gorilla wearing an "Italy" t-shirt and wondered how he could judge someone like that when not much separates most people from being homeless themselves. I additionally noticed that he was smoking a cigarette and I told my friend out loud and within hearing distance that it would serve this guy well that in twenty years, a doctor would be telling him "See what smoking does to ya?".

District 4 Supervisor Clusterf*ck

Michael — Fri, 08 Jun 2007 22:22:06 GMT

Resign from the D4 Supervisor position, already…! Although the pending cases against Ed Jew have not been proven in a court of law or by any governing body, it seems very obvious to most intelligent people that he has been in cover-up and evade mode ever since the stories broke concerning his residence at the time of his election and the $40K in cash that he accepted from the Chinese businessmen. Most despicably, he seems to be playing the race card by pleading his alibis and non-direct answering to primarily the Chinese media. There are plenty of public officials and politicians who are not to subject of an FBI investigation and just happen to be Asian. As I’ve unfortunately observed through experience, persons like Ed Jew can’t fathom that people can see past his smoke and mirrors defense are typically megalomaniacs. It very much seems that he was born into money and feels entitled to the power that a public position such as that of a Supervisor affords him. Perhaps my grandmother said it best when she said that she remembered him as a petulant child growing up. Why not just fess up and admit that mistakes were made on his part? The court of public opinion seems to be very forgiving to those who acknowledge their errors, based on how quickly Mayor Newsom’s alcoholism has been forgotten. Whatever decision is made by the city or feds, he has taken the route that will most likely forever leave a stain on his family name, at least in the world of San Francisco politics.

More Monster Cable Protests

Michael — Thu, 31 May 2007 22:47:19 GMT

An interesting thing happened to me during a Monster Cable protest last month in downtown Burlingame. After we had protested with chants and music in the streets & sidewalks, we had a caravan of 15-18 cars honking horns in protest as well. Some people gave their vocal support and others were ambivalent, but a couple particular gentleman expressed their displeasure because we were "disturbing their dog" or "making a couple of babies go crazy inside a restaurant". The latter stood in front of traffic to get his point across. I realized that nothing I could say would make him understand our cause. In fact, anything to the contrary might make such a person make such protests illegal in the future. It was near the end of the caravan route, so I and others simply stopped honking and went to the next protest site in the hills of Burlingame. But, all the while, I was thinking "if you wanna make an omlet, ya gotta break some eggs". I mean, the whole point of protesting is to raise awareness, so if we had disturbed their Saturday morning brunches on for FIVE minutes, we pretty much did what we had set out to do. It really doesn't matter if he's angry with us or the head monster. Of course it would be better if he was inside a Best Buy and stopped buying a Monster Cable product because our protest led him to have a bad taste in his mouth because of our relentless protesting. I actually wish that I didn't need to be out there, but in a political climate of indifference, one must occasionally be that egg cracker....

F*cked Up Dream

Michael — Fri, 20 Apr 2007 17:16:22 GMT

I find it odd that a dream that takes place during the time a person is asleep is the same word as a dream that people have which relates to lifelong goals/aspirations/desires. The type of dreams that I have are usually never associated with ambitions or hopes (oftentimes quite the opposite!). Rather, I should refer to my dreams as something like "unconscious adventures" or "slumber escapades". Maybe they're just really low level nightmares. I don't know. What I do know is that my subconscious frequently merges time in the sense that I'll be in situations where I'm either my younger or current self (but always with my complete memories intact) and in real time or the past with people I know now as well as in the past. The latest "snooze journey" that I had involved the family dog, big brother and two deceased guys. I was on a ficticious elementary school playground on a chilly, windy evening (apparently, school took place at night in my reality) and the bell rang for everyone to come in from recess. Suddenly, the crowds of children ran back out to the perimeter of the blacktop and the rush of kids going out towards the grassy area very much resembled an ocean's wave for some reason. Within this wave of schoolkids, I found the current family dog, Maddie G, alone with her red leash dragging on the ground and slightly bloodied. I recovered her when the crowd started to disperse and my brother emerged from the group walking quickly towards me. Evidently, he was taking Maddie for a walk when he encountered two guys with a pit bull. The pit bull was starting to attack our frail little beagle when Andy intervened and somehow the smaller of the two guys got knocked down inadvertently. This started a ruckus where a bunch of pushing and shoving occured, but not an actual fist fight. As is his nature, Andy had just walked away and did not want to fight. Next, as we walked along together, the two guys and a fat, Tony Soprano-looking cop came from behind us with their fingers pointing. The two guys happened to be the bullies that I knew from elementary school, the slightly built Roberto Torres and muscular & intimidating Eric Rice (the latter from whom I received numerous random punches to the stomach which always resulted in getting the wind knocked out of me. They both later died at age 15 or 16 after their alcohol induced motorcycle ride ended up with them launching themselves headfirst and helmetless into a tailgate of a pickup truck). Back to the story. The diminutive Mr. Torres was accusing my brother of starting the fight himself as well as with our dog attacking his dog. At this point, I had to interject even without knowing all the facts. As, my brother was being handcuffed, I told the police officer that there's NO way it could happened that way because both Andy and Maddie are completely passive to the point of being faults. The law enforcement officer then looked at me and said "Do you want to be arrested, too?" and I quickly shut up in my feeble, 70 pound body. As I looked over the cop's shoulder (which I don't know how was physically possible at my 5'-0" stature), I saw the menancing sneer of Mr. Rice as he knew that he'd gotten the better of the Wong brothers (even though he'd never met my brother in reality). End of dream sequence. This most recent dream is brought to you all by the fact that: A) I love my dog. She was savagedly attacked by a pit bull and german shepherd a few years back, I jumped on top of her to shield her from the assault before the other owner got control of her dogs. B) I was reminicsing about life in Petaluma with my siblings earlier in the week. Mostly about sports, however. C) I was reading about how the VT mass murderer was bullied in middle school.

VT Massacre

Michael — Tue, 17 Apr 2007 22:49:16 GMT

Right when I read the news and saw photos from the Virginia Tech shootings yesterday, I feared that the killer would be a person of Asian descent. A picture of an unidentified Asian student being detained face down by a law officer was a photo that caught my eye rather prominently. Even though it was probably someone completely uninvolved in the murders, this student was Asian in a community where Asians are probably not a large part of the demographic. In this country, it very much seems that as long as a person doesn't look Caucasian, they are going to be discriminated against in some way, shape or form for not being "American". I can also see the media having its field day with the killer's ethnicity, putting Cho Seung-Hui right up there with Charles Ng, Andrew Cunanan, Al De Guzman and Chai Soua Vang as recent mentally disturbed mass murderers or near mass murderers of Asian descent in the US of A's recent past. While it can be easy to pin the problem to either race or media or money (or a combination thereof), one cannot ignore how easy it is to acquire a firearm in this country. With the increase in post-Columbine gun violence in schools ranging from elementary school to college, we are seeing how obsolete "the right to bear arms" in our Bill of Rights is becoming. Given the history of sociopaths and psychotics involved in gun violence, should not a simple psych test exist at the very least for individuals wishing to purchase a handgun? Is it just me, or does the 2 week waiting period seem like a joke? Does it seem like our current administration is instilling a culture of fear from foreign threats, but ignoring the tension between the two Americas at home?

Basketball Team & Shock Jock

Michael — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 17:55:01 GMT

By now, most have probably heard of the controversy involving a championship women's basketball team and a radio talk show host who decided to make some poor decisions to insult their race, sex and athletic ability. The shock jock has since publicly apologized, been suspended for two weeks and is going to meet the women sometime this week. Purportedly, his job is up for review. Although not unprecedented, racist remarks don't always end up with the termination of the person who says the incredibly ignorant remarks. Last year, a well known comedienne/actress/TV talk show hostess made some ill-advised comments making fun of the way Asians speak. I didn't view such banter as racist (I just thought she was being stupid), but others took offense and launched a campaign for her to lose her job which she still holds today. Unfortunately, such decisions come down to a matter of economics. This is not the first time the shock jock in question has come under fire, simply the latest and most severe in terms of insulting on a nationwide scale. The ramifications of his actions run deep and a message should be sent that it is not all right to spew such misogynistic garbage out of his mouth. The disturbing reality is that he is popular among his listeners because of what he says, which can only mean that there are millions of persons who think like him or at the very least agree with his underlying racist philosophy. Thus, there are millions of potential people who listen to mind-numbing advertisements. Yes, sponsors have pulled their ads from his show, and if he does indeed lose his job, it will be only a matter of time before someone else says something incredibly stupid which will end up on Youtube or CNN. So, to nip this thing in the bud, I really believe that the focus should be on educating people about race relations so that we can all be slightly more sensitive to such issues. Perhaps keeping him on the air after he's been educated will be a good thing for all people in the long run, if at the expense of his current fan base.

Ego

Michael — Thu, 05 Apr 2007 16:45:28 GMT

While playing pool this past weekend with both women and men, I once again questioned the logic of having both a men's professional billiards association and a separate women's league. To me, the only slight advantage a man may have over a woman in this skill is in the force during the initial break. Yes, I realize that there are tournaments where that pit women against men in 9-ball and other skills, but I'm asking why there has to be any separation at all in the rankings of these pros. My conclusion is that it all has to do with the dreaded male ego. I've seen this phenomenon rear its ugly head in a variety of sports, but nowhere was it more obvious than when I competed (a relative term here) in the sport of triathlon. Triathletes generally start the swim based on gender and age groups, with the elite men starting first, followed by age groupings of men 5 years apart with each wave starting 5-10 minutes apart. The women's waves usually started after all the men were in the water. During the run (if not sooner), the elite women usually passed the age group men and it was almost comical to watch men look back and speed up to avoid getting caught or to try to keep pace with a hard-bodied woman at this point in the race. I even had a friend try this and we all said to him "Dude. Let it go. She's at least 40 minutes ahead of you anyway". It would seem that a fragile male ego becomes even more so when athletic ability (apparently, the bastion of all that is male) is infringed upon by the opposite sex. Don't they realize that many a lesson can be learned by having your butt kicked by a kick ass woman?

Entitlement and pulling the "neighborly" card.

Michael — Tue, 03 Apr 2007 19:47:06 GMT

Next to my parents' home in San Francisco, is a house that seems to have a revolving door of renters which changes every two to three years. In the case of each of the last two sets of renters, a tenant has felt it necessary to express their unhappiness with the street parking arrangement. Background information: the detached homes in this area of SF have either single or double garage doors. Each home with a single garage door setup has a public parking space in front of the home. Parking is relatively easy here. There is nearly always parking on either end of the street, which would amount to a 150 yard walk if you lived in the middle of the block. You'd be seriously stoked to consistently find parking that close to your abode in any other neighborhood in the city. With that in mind, each of the caucasian, white-american-bred, people living next door has knocked on the door of my parents' and basically told them not to park in "their" spot. One of them even said "I don't want my wife to have to walk down the block", to which my mother retorted, "so, it's okay for me to have to walk down the block?". He had no answer as he clearly hadn't thought very far into his logic. My father explained that he needed to park his truck a) on the street since it is too long to fit in the garage and b) in close proximity to the house since he had tools stolen out of it in the past. Luckily, the family dog is very good at detecting disturbances near the house. An agreement was made that we would leave open the space on the other side of their driveway, if they left the space in front of their house open for the truck. That settlement worked, but they still knocked on our door if any random car parked in "their" space, even if the car did not belong to us or anyone we knew. I just chalked it up to "peculiar" people, who were otherwise friendly neighbors. After they moved out, a household of three, 20-something aged, gwai lo males moved in immediatedly afterwards. And again, the knock on the door came, explaining that my parents were using their parking space. Except this time, they were very insistent that the space belonged to them (and their gas-guzzling SUVs) and that they didn't have the luxury of two garage spaces like my parents. A first come, first serve rule was established and they displayed their displeasure by continually parking perpendicular to their garage and blocking the sidewalk to everyone, as well as double parking and even blocking the garages of neighbors. I've just returned from a trip from the east coast to discover that these tenants have moved out. I'm not hopeful that the next people who move in there will be much different, but I suppose it's possible. Even more laughable, is that in each of those two cases, the alpha-male of the household explained that he was just being "neighborly" by kindly asking my parents to move their cars elsewhere. And in each of the cases, it was pointed out that it sounded like they were just trying to tell us what to do. Maybe it's a change in the times, but I remember when "neighborly" meant bringing over food or inviting someone to a house party or BBQ. There is a question that burns in my mind based on behavior I've witnessed both simply as a human being and as a landlord. Is there really a contingent of caucasian folks out there who are raised with a sense of entitlement and that the world belongs to them?

Caution! Random Blog Alert!

Michael — Tue, 27 Mar 2007 21:57:06 GMT

Moments ago, it just occurred to me that dogs probably don't understand laughter or humor....

Natural Blindness

Michael — Fri, 23 Mar 2007 18:54:58 GMT

I remember back in the day when I was nine years of age and I was fitted for my first pair of glasses. As the optician was placing them on my face, she was in amazement that I wasn't crying, as she had expected with her experience with probably hundreds of children before. I was much more looking forward to seeing things clearly, as I had probably never seen anything with 100% acuity in my life up to that point. Fast forward to a family trip to the Russian River about three years later, where I had been cooling off in the river when I ducked my head under the water and the current took my eyeglasses right off my face, never to be seen again. Relatively blind (although nothing in comparison to now), I recall feeling very helpless and useless for the rest of the day. Today, with dozens of disposable contact lenses and extra pairs of eyeglasses available to me, I am never without the ability to see clearly for long periods of time. However, contacts can dry and/or give me terrible headaches and often times glasses just don't feel right on my head (usually due to friends' kids or dogs). So, it is during these moments where I actually enjoy going "blind" and relaxing. Now, when I use the term blind, what I really mean is that everything gets really fuzzy and all I see are shapes and colors with anything that's more than 4 inches away from my eyes. But, I've learned to be independent of my external visual corrections and try to do simple things such as dog walking, riding the stationary bike, mowing the lawn or even driving during the daylight hours (shhhh! I know, I know..). There are times when viewing the world this way is even preferable in that it helps me relax and focus on the other four senses. I don't meditate or do yoga, but there are periods of time after I do my routine stretching, where I just like to breathe, zone out, and take in the sights sans visual augmentation. To me, there's definitely a benefit to unwinding without closing my eyes. I've often wondered about how all the new surgical vision correction surgeries would work for me, but have decided that such a drastic measure would only be done as a last resort. Sometimes not being able to see is a pain in the arse, but I really think part of me would miss being "blind"!

New Ad on BART

Michael — Thu, 22 Mar 2007 16:49:38 GMT

I was heading to the east bay on BART yesterday when I noticed a clever advertisement placed in the tunnel between either Powell and Montgomery or Montgomery and Embarcadero. It was a series of well-lit consecutive images in a 16:9 format that probably spanned well over 100 feet long, consisting of dozens of frames. It was a little difficult to see exactly what was happening on the images (mostly due to the tint shade of the BART windows), but the last six or seven images had the red "bullseye" image of its sponsor purposefully placed at the end. Sadly, although I pride myself on being unaffected by advertising, I couldn't get the image burned out of my head afterward. I found myself disgusted at the campaign and looked around to see no reaction from many of the riders. I could see it being such a quick ad, that it could come across as subliminal. It later made me think of what Tyler Durden would do to such a symbol of Americana. Where are the corporate terrorists when you need them? Sigh.

World Bicycle Relief

Michael — Sat, 03 Mar 2007 02:54:54 GMT

After watching the Tour of California, '07 edition, as it passed through the town of Valencia, I joined my friends in perusing the Bike Expo set up alongside the race route. A typical bike expo at a race would have dozens of booths filled with bicycle frames and componentry that would exceed thousands of dollars of exotic materials like carbon fibre and titanium. I'm still a true bike geek. At one point in my life, I would have found myself going from booth to booth asking all about how light or how much each frameset was. Instead, after seeing more of the same redundant technology around the expo, I found myself in front of the least busy booth called World Bicycle Relief, put on by the SRAM corporation (www.worldbicyclerelief.com). They are involved in Project Zambia, which will provide 26,000 bicycles to community volunteers in the poverty and disease-stricken Zambia. These bicycles will be used to deliver critical care and preventative education to people in isolated regions. The bicycles are purposely low-tech and the $109 donation buys a complete bicycle, spart parts and mechanical training for the owner. They have non-standard 27" wheels which are quite standard over there. One of the problems encountered in the past centered around the donation of used bicycles to foreign countries which could not be repaired once broken. Maybe it's the time spent during community activism that allowed me to show interest in something beyond bicycle technology at a bike expo, but whatever it may be, it feels like a welcome change. Bikes can be more than things that help keep us in shape recreationally, they can directly save lives. Of course I'm still going to the following event this coming weekend: www.handmadebicycleshow.com More to come....

Silly Comedic Dream

Michael — Wed, 21 Feb 2007 18:02:23 GMT

I dreamt about Eva Mendes the other night. Okay, not entirely about her (dammit!), but she was tangentially related to the dream. Mostly because I just watched her in the movie "Hitch" and she's in a new film based on the comic book character "Ghost Rider". In this dream I was on a random city street at night with the uber-babe (well, not WITH her, she was just kinda there) watching Ghost Rider take on a villian while atop his motorbike. While in pursuit of the superpowered criminal, he lost control of his bike and crashed it into the side of a brick building, rendering it entirely useless. In order to keep up with the super-villian, he needed new wheels, so he looked around the street for a new ride. His choice? A mid-1990's Geo Metro (a Suzuki in disguise, no less). He hopped into the mundane little econobox and it consequently lit up like hell on wheels! So, he returned to chasing this villian up the vertical walls of buildings. As the villian was flying from rooftop to rooftop, Ghost Rider didn't quite make one of the jumps and again trashed his trusty steed of the last 60 seconds. He then comandeered an empty school bus (because there are just so many of those sitting on streets at night in my dreamworld, apparently) and, ah, re-ignited his search for his nemesis. Thankfully, ending the dream. All right. So, I obviously don't read too many Ghost Rider comic books. But, I can't remember the last time I woke up cracking up from a dream....

"Conversation" with an ignoramus

Michael — Tue, 06 Feb 2007 18:18:51 GMT

At the recent demonstration/boycott of Monster Cable products, I encountered an early forty-ish white, caucasian male who quizzically asked me why we were protesting/picketing in front of the Apple store in downtown SF and not the Brisbane headquarters of Monster, since according to him they only carry "one little cable" from Monster (it's actually at least 7). After I let him know that it was for visibility purposes, he got into the aspect of "why can't the people just move on and find new jobs?" I calmly and thoughtfully explained to him that these people are in their late 50's and early 60's, without college educations and cannot easily find jobs as those who don't have the said restrictions. He said that they didn't have to work for someone for 15-20 years and then went into a dialogue about how he put himself through college during the day and worked nights to pay for it by making only $6.50 per hour. Without taking each employees' individual circumstances into account, I felt these points held a degree of validity until his next statement. When informed of their willingness to move on, but only if they received equal severance packages to former employees in the past, he retorted that "--at least they got paid. Eleven dollars an hour is good money." To which I condescendingly replied "Good for you if you think that" and abruptly turned my back on him. I guess he doesn't realize that the "system" is set up for him to succeed. Chances are that he never will.

Bad Sitter

Michael — Mon, 05 Feb 2007 22:54:03 GMT

I always say that I would make a terrible parent for these two reasons: A) I find that cute little kids swearing (not at anyone, mind you) is extremely humorous. and B) I consider myself a kid, so I'm too selfish to raise a child. I experienced the latter last week when I was defaulted by age to look after my friends' 22+ month old daughter, Lea (Domingo). Nick and Amy were busy packing, so I was left to watch over Lea with the help from none other than Walt Disney. Or rather, Disney's DVD of "Lady and the Tramp". YES, I realized that the entertainment was actually for little Lea, but I seriously hadn't seen L.A.T.T. since I was a toddler and found myself picking up many things I hadn't understood or seen at a very young age. So entranced was I into the viewing and re-experiencing of my childhood that I thought Lea was sitting next to me the whole time in her little booster chair, when in fact the veteran of dozens of viewings of the L.A.T.T. had gotten up and brought a bottle of Lubriderm back to her chair. I only noticed this when she had practically emptied half the bottle onto her hands and arms. To her dismay, I wiped off the excess lotion and put the bottle back to where she'd gotten it. Not wanting to miss the story on the DVD during the time I was cleaning her up, I rewound and watched the 2+ minutes of video. So sucked in was I by the viewing, that when I shifted my eyes back to Lea, there she was again with the bottle and covered in more lotion. A glitch in the Matrix, indeed. Being the semi-responsible adult that I am, I figured that it would be best if I stopped watching the movie and went back to playing the game of rolling-the-bouncy-ball-back-and-forth. Oh yeah, Lea played too. Kids these days...

DVDA

Michael — Fri, 15 Dec 2006 18:30:18 GMT

It never ceases to amaze me that there are so many varied and different meanings behind this acronym: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DVDA

Helping People Help Themselves

Michael — Wed, 08 Nov 2006 23:42:05 GMT

Day of the Dead

Michael — Fri, 03 Nov 2006 04:17:52 GMT

It's the Day of the Dead and today I asked Ishmael about how his family celebrates the day. He said that his family visited gravesites of their ancestors and much less emphasis was put onto the spiritual aspects and more rememberance. To me, that sounded a lot like what we do in the Chinese culture twice a year: Ching Ming in the spring and Chung Yeung in the fall. Basically, a tradition of visiting our ancestors' gravesites before and after harvest season consisting of bowing, burning insense and fake money and offering food for their enjoyment in the afterlife. Sometimes, firecrackers are lit to ward off evil spirits. While I enjoy seeing family members and I generally respect certain aspects of tradition and culture, I can definitely see the event tapering down for my generation as far as the conventional ways of performing the observance because of the way our lives have evolved. We are no longer the superstituous farmers that our ancestors were, for one. I personally think it is a complete waste of resources to have a grave and tombstone. I can't help but think of how creepy the decaying skeletal remains must be of people I knew when they were alive. To me, it seems that if everyone on the planet had a gravesite, it could become a problem for people many generations down the line as far as conservation of space. So, in the future, I think I would be able to agree with my cousins that tradition is much less important than remembering the spirit of the people who are no longer with us. Who knows? Maybe the best way we can hope to remembered and not impact future generations exists in a bunch zeros and ones on this very thing that Al Gore invented.....

Massage Dream/Congrats

Michael — Fri, 27 Oct 2006 00:49:31 GMT

Hoo boy. Last night I dreamed I was in a hotel room laying on my stomach with my head the foot of the bed watching inane images on the TV. Someone was sleeping on the other end of the bed and then awoke. This person started a soothing massage from my feet up to my shoulders when I realized that it was....my brother's wifey (doh!)! Being the massage whore that I am, I didn't tell her to stop (I remember it feeling pretty good, actually). Rather, I focused on watching TV and it was conveniently the episode of "Little House on the Prairie" where Laura Ingalls Wilder has an extramarital affair without Alonzo's consent (no such episode exists, to my knowledge) and I blurted out loud "Laura, you cheating little tramp!" The massage abruptly ended, amazingly enough. Back in the real world, I found myself saying something to a good friend that I don't usually find myself saying. I found out through another good friend that he is getting married and I said "Congrats!". I almost always react with a head nod or an "Oh, is that right?" when I typically hear of this news (mainly because it never is a surprise to me and seems like a natural progression more than anything else). Personally, I don't see how a what I view as a business contract should affect a relationship in a romantic way. My recently engaged friend had done much soul-searching before popping the question to his fiancee' and it is a big step for him. Knowing his future wife to be one of the most insecure persons I've known in my life, perhaps what I really meant instead of "Congrats" was "Good luck with that!"? Yes, I'm a bastard.

"Ah, Frankenbike VII, we hardly knew ye"

Michael — Thu, 05 Oct 2006 01:29:46 GMT

Project Frankenbike: Take an older model bicycle frameset, carefully select affordable quality componentry that's fashioned to the prospective rider's ability level and fit the rider to the bike to let them enjoy the feeling of riding again and become enthusiasts. My brother and I started doing this fun project for mostly friends and relatives. The goal was to turn people onto bicycles and riding so as to make an impact in their lives similar to our own. I've written in an earlier blog concerning the fate of a bike stolen by Berkeley Bike Thieves. Now, the same unfortunate fate has been bestowed upon a bike given to the father of my sister's boyfriend. Already a bike enthusiast, it was nice to see him riding all around the neighborhood on his perfectly functional, but ungainly new steed (it was teal with purple lettering). So, it was with dismay and disbelief that I found out that it had been stolen while not well locked to a parking meter. It first makes me think that people don't treat something given to them with the same treatment that they would something that they bought themselves. But, after more thought, I believe in these two cases that the victims simply have more faith in humanity and less paranoia about getting items stolen than myself. It was instilled in me at a very young age that everyone wants what you want and not to show all of your "cards" in life because they can be taken away from you in a heartbeat. The victims involved are all very intelligent in their own ways, the latest being a college physics professor. So, having something stolen from you isn't a matter of intelligence. It must have something to do with not realizing a predatory nature in human beings. Anyway, I'm not sure where I'm going with this( as opposed to the linearity and logic of previous blog entries-haha). But, I hope I never understand the mindset of a person who takes things that do not belong to them. And believe me, using the word "person" in that last sentence is a stretch. Here's a list of the Frankenbikes: Frankenbike I - 1980's 59 cm Trek 400 series - Two different owners/riders. Key Frankenbike feature: mismatched cranks. Current status: Awaiting upgrades for a new rider. Frankenbike II- 1990's Specialized Crossroads- One owner/rider. Current status: Slowly rusting away in area exposed to elements. Frankenbike III- 1988 57 cm Specialized Sirrus-One owner. Key feature: Old School Selle Italia Turbo Saddle and extremely long cockpit. Current status: Unknown. Stolen in 10/04. Frankenbike IV- 1985 52 cm Specialized Allez-Two different owners/riders. Key feature: Original Shimano Dura-Ace 6-speed SIS. Current status: Awaiting repairs and a new owner. Frankenbike V- 1984 52 cm Specialized Allez- Two different owners/riders. Key feature: mismatched componentry throughout. Current status: Commuter bike for a teacher. Frankenbike VI- 49 cm1984 Trek 300- Four different owners/riders. Key feature: STI on 126mm spaced dropouts. Current status: Shared exercise machine for a husband/wife combo. Frankenbike VII- 60 cm 1992 Specialized Allez Sport. Key feature: Triple Crankset. One owner/rider. Current status: Unknown. Stolen 10/06.

Taking in the moment

Michael — Sun, 01 Oct 2006 17:00:02 GMT

Yesterday, I was watching my sister's soccer team, the SF Rangers, from the GGWSL.org. I've enjoyed watching them play for the past few years for a variety of reasons such as the love and seriousness at which they take the sport, how they respond to such challenges as being short on players, substitutes or even goalkeepers, and as is consistent with seemingly all women's soccer-the lack of players taking a DIVE. It is also most gratifying to watch them work past supposedly insurmountable odds, which they did yesterday afternoon. Faced against the perennial dominant, semi-pro team in the league, the Nighthawks, they were short of substitute replacements and missing at least 5 of their best players. Over the years, I'd seen the Rangers get ahead early, tie, or just barely lose to their rivals with the same guts and guile that I see in professional athletes. Yesterday, they employed tactics and teamwork to hand the Nighthawks their first loss of the season. Being tied scoreless for most of the game, it was truly a thing of beauty to watch them score late and hold off the onslaught of shots on goal in the remaining minutes and watch them celebrate as the ref blew the final whistle, ending the game. The victory was well-earned and as exciting as any 1-0 soccer match can get. After the game, we saw the coach, Tony, walking back to his car. It was the start of a long trek and I knew he has been recovering from knee replacement surgery, so we inquired if he would like to have a car ride to ease the journey. With a content smile on his face and peaceful glean in his eye, he simply replied, "No, I would just like to enjoy the moment". I have a definite respect and appreciation for people with the ability to recognize when to live in the moment and occasionally slow down instants in time, realizing that they'll never come again in quite the same way. His response really signified what I don't always appreciate (but am constantly trying to): life is about the journey.

Cartoon Teeth

Michael — Fri, 29 Sep 2006 06:10:16 GMT

Oh, Man. I dreamt last night that I was in front of my bathroom sink, brushing my teeth. It felt just like any other morning, no big deal. In fact, it didn't have to be a dream until my teeth came alive and gleefully started thanking me for brushing them so well (I'm an oral hygiene freak) in their tiny munchkin voices. They had very cartoon-like eyes and TEETH too! This is why I don't take drugs: I don't have to (or maybe it was the metronidazole?).

National Talk Like A Pirate Day Has Come and Gone

Michael — Fri, 22 Sep 2006 23:43:36 GMT

I truly hope that everyone rightly took advantage of what now is Jennifer Y's new favorite holiday (until the one in December with the fat guy wearing a red suit with gifts in tow rears its head). Her eyepatches were truly a stroke of genius. A shout out also goes out to Ms. Stevie (Scurvy) J. Below is the link and day-after feedback: http://www.talklikeapirateday.com/wordpress/ Aye, 'twas a fine Talk Like a Pirate Day. We were see'in traffic the likes of which we 'ad ne'er seen before. Several times I thought the ship was sinking, but we managed to keep 'er afloat! For the actual day in the US: 515,245 page views over 184,130 people For the whole week: 774,865 page views over 274,103 people According to Technorati, we received 311 links from 262 blogs That's a lot more than last year, where we saw 321,982 page views for 45,884 people! Some people did get an error page as the database became overwelmed, but we started serving up cached pages in the late morning and that really made a big difference. Thank you to everyone who stopped by and made this a great Talk Like a Pirate Day! Slashdot posted an article on TLAPD Yahoo! featured an article on the front page that linked to the TLAPD website Digg had an article on the Pirate Speak translator, among several other TLAPD related pieces ZDNet Australia ran an article about Linus Torvalds (the lead developer of Linux) taking part in TLAPD The Pirate Bay had a big banner on their front page that pointed to this website! ABC ran a TLAPD episode of Wife Swap featuring the Baurs from the Talk Like a Pirate site Google didn't celebrate the day, but they did reply to the request in pirate There are a many, many more interesting links and people sent in a ton of good stuff, if only there was more time and space! Thanks again, and we'll see you next year! ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ah. The power of the web. Who says this generation cannot achieve things? What's next? Walk Like An Egyptian Day?

Poker Face

Michael — Tue, 19 Sep 2006 13:58:14 GMT

The other day my new boss took me out to lunch at a small, but bustling Japanese restaurant somewhat nearby work. We sat down at a table near the cash register and my back was towards the front door (something my good friend, Geoff, will rarely do). As we ordered and ate our respective lunches, we spoke of both work and personal tidbits to keep things serious and casual at the same time. As my boss was conveying some specific issues with our product, his eyes unapolgetically drifted up over my left shoulder and progressively up around to the side of the table. I had thought he saw someone he recognized, but in the corner of my eye, I viewed the lovely backside of a tall, raven-haired, modelesque gal in her early twenties going up the the counter. It took every effort for me to continue making eye contact with my boss as he was speaking and not look directly at this lovely siren. I realize that it was only harmless gazing, but I much prefer to have just a select handful of people be aware of my pervy/kinky/scum-of-the earth side. I just didn't want to show any evidence of that part of myself so early on (I had worked for exactly one week at the time) to someone I work with/for. Of course, my boss had no qualms about showing that side of himself and he even went to the cash register to pay and casually acknowledge the said hottie. I took that opportunity to gaze upon the rare, dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty and she was definitely a stunner. It's been said to me that it may have made things easier if I had simply gave into curiousity and looked at the girl while my boss was talking. But, I don't think my boss viewed his behavior as anything to apologize for and in fact, is probably a reason why he is so successful in his business ventures. There are times when I don't mind being a fly on the wall.

Crash

Michael — Sun, 10 Sep 2006 04:51:19 GMT

One time I had a quite treacherous bike crash in the Marin Headlands. To make a long story short, I had the wrong wheel/tire combination for a cold foggy day on a steep, fast descent and crashed in a ditch on a curve at about 30+ mph. With the help of my brother, I was able to ride away from the crash with only slight left shoulder soreness and what looked like a patch of raw hamburger meat where the skin over my left triceps used to be. I calmly hid the injury from everyone via bandages and a loose fitting shirt sleeve during the day, but gave up on dressing the wound with bandages at night because there was nothing dry for which the Tegaderm to adhere. I went to sleep that night sore, but in generally good spirits. Sleeping lightly is a common but involuntary practice of mine, and I must have awoken at least two or three times during the night because of a "tingling" sensation from my arm. Each time, I'd tell myself "Ah, I guess it's part of the healing process" and quickly return to sleep. But at 4 AM in the morning, it just felt too weird. I was going to have to get up and go the bathroom and clean the wound once more. So, I got up, turned on the light to the bedroom and peered at my arm and then quickly looked back at the bed in what must have been an astonishingly horrific gaze. THERE WERE A TRAIL OF ANTS ALL OVER MY ARM AND BED. I rushed to the bathroom and cleaned off my arm with soap, water and practically the whole dang bottle of Bactine. I then succinctly killed off the trail of ants from my bed to out the window with Terminator-like efficiency. In my adult life, I've typically been much kinder to the insect world to the point where I capture them indoors and set them free outside, but I can't remember the last time I felt so violated (well, at least not without consent). I've told this story to numerous friends and family and each and every one had the same sickened reaction except for one person. When the father of my friend, Nick, heard the story and examined the then-recent abrasion, he simply smiled and said that the ants only eat dead flesh and actually help with the healing process. He said that such a thing was common back in the Philippines. Never mind that these were the same disgusting ants that were probably crawling all over our garbage cans twenty feet away. He assured me that it was not a bad thing. Amazingly enough, it did heal rather quickly. Although I wouldn't recommend that particular remedy to those faint of heart. On the plus side, it makes a great story to tell at parties during the few rare occasions I find myself inebriated and all of my bodily scars turn even more bright red than my face (and hot to the touch!).