My Blog

a hostel moment:

Jessa — Mon, 07 Jan 2008 06:47:44 GMT

Hi Jessa! Hey there, beepbeep. How are you? 100% pure organic rock candy sugar yellow squash. why yellow squash? ...it's just something I like.

..still not ride to work today.

Jessa — Sun, 11 Nov 2007 19:19:16 GMT

I have to be in the TL by 3pm. If I take public transportation it'll take 2 hours. If someone gives me a ride, it'll take like, 15 minutes. Isn't anyone at the Cow Palace today just dying to save my poor pedestrian ass?

Drinking Stories That Will Make Your Drinking Feel Wimpy.

Jessa — Fri, 26 Oct 2007 22:53:07 GMT

1. Admiral Edward Russell's 17th-Century throwdown Think you can drink like a sailor? Maybe you should take a moment to reflect on what that truly means. The record for history's largest cocktail belongs to British Lord Admiral Edward Russell. In 1694, he threw an officer's party that employed a garden's fountain as the punch bowl. The concoction? A mixture that included 250 gallons of brandy, 125 gallons of Malaga wine, 1,400 pounds of sugar, 2,500 lemons, 20 gallons of lime juice, and 5 pounds of nutmeg. A series of bartenders actually paddled around in a small wooden canoe, filling up guests' cups. Not only that, but they had to work in 15-minute shifts to avoid being overcome by the fumes and falling overboard. The party continued nonstop for a full week, pausing only briefly during rainstorms to erect a silk canopy over the punch to keep it from getting watered down. In fact, the festivities didn't end until the fountain had been drunk completely dry. 2. The London Brew-nami of 1814 The Industrial Revolution wasn't all steam engines and textile mills. Beer production increased exponentially, as well. Fortunately, the good people of England were up to the challenge and drained kegs as fast as they were made. Brewery owners became known as "beer barons," and they spent their newfound wealth in an age-old manner -- by trying to party more than the next guy. Case in point: In 1814, Meux's Horse Shoe Brewery in London constructed a brewing vat that was 22 feet tall and 60 feet in diameter, with an interior big enough to seat 200 for dinner -- which is exactly how its completion was celebrated. (Why 200? Because a rival had built a vat that seated 100, of course.) After the dinner, the vat was filled to its 4,000-barrel capacity. Pretty impressive, given the grand scale of the project, but pretty unfortunate given that they overlooked a faulty supporting hoop. Yup, the vat ruptured, causing other vats to break, and the resulting commotion was heard up to 5 miles away. A wall of 1.3 million gallons of dark beer washed down the street, caving in two buildings and killing nine people by means of "drowning, injury, poisoning by the porter fumes, or drunkenness." The story gets even more unbelievable, though. Rescue attempts were blocked and delayed by the thousands who flocked to the area to drink directly off the road. And when survivors were finally brought to the hospital, the other patients became convinced from the smell that the hospital was serving beer to every ward except theirs. A riot broke out, and even more people were left injured. Sadly, this incident was not deemed tragic enough at the time to merit an annual memorial service and/or reenactment. 3. New York state of mind: The Dutch ingratiate themselves to the natives In 1609, the Dutch sent English explorer Henry Hudson westward for a third attempt at finding the fabled Northeast Passage. A near mutiny forced him southward, and upon reaching land, he encountered members of the Delaware Indian tribe. To foster good relations, Hudson shared his brandy with the tribal chief, who soon passed out. But upon waking up the next day, he asked Hudson to pour some more for the rest of his tribe. From then on, the Indians referred to the island as Manahachtanienk -- literally, "The High Island." And not "high" as in "tall;" high as in "the place where we got blotto." Most people would agree that Manhattan has stayed true to the spirit of its name ever since. 4. The worst aftertaste in history In 1805, British Admiral Horatio Nelson was killed during the Battle of Trafalgar off the coast of Spain. Most sailors were simply put to rest at sea, but as an admiral, Nelson had to be brought back to England for an official burial. To preserve his body during the voyage home, the second-in-command stored Nelson's body in the ship's vat of rum and halted all liquor rations to the crew. Not a bad idea, but when the ship reached port, officials went to retrieve Nelson's body and found the vat dry. Disregarding good taste (in every sense), the crew had been secretly drinking from it the entire way home. After that, naval rum was referred to as Nelson's Blood. 5. Indian elephants raid the liquor cabinet No wonder they don't sell beer at the circus. Apparently, elephants like to get wasted. In fact, an outpost of the Indian army in the jungle region of Bagdogra has been under attack ever since a local herd of elephants raided the base in search of food and discovered the soldiers' entire winter rations of rum. Since then, the pachyderms have regularly raided the base for a drink and have smashed down all defenses put up by the army, including electrified fences and firewalls. According to The Daily Telegraph, "An officer recently posted there explained that the elephants broke the rum bottles by cleverly curling their trunks around the bottom. Then they empty the contents down their throats. They soon got drunk, he said, and swayed around. They enjoy themselves and then return to the jungle." This is by no means a singular incident, though. The animal kingdom is well-known for its ability to identify fruit that's begun to ferment. Anthropologists even believe this is how early man discovered alcohol -- by observing the strange behavior of animals on a fruit bender.

oh, the funny....

Jessa — Fri, 12 Oct 2007 10:51:15 GMT

....well, everything's funny when you've been working for 13 hours straight. But this, I think, would be The Funny (TM) in either state...please note that all internal commentary will be notated within brackets. You know. The square thingies. Dear sir/madam. Me and my 2 friends will come to SF as a student. [As one student? How droll.] We are looking for hotel/dormitory. I saw you web site and I wanted to take more information about your dorm rooms in city center. [OK...readygo] There is [internal grammarwhore is cringing] 2 weeks between me and my friends to arrive to SF, but we want to stay at the same room. they will arrive on 21th [see? The Funny (TM)] of oct. and mine is 7th of dec. [that's WAY more than 2 weeks by my count. Despite my not knowing exactly when the 21th lands on the calendar] Do you have available room? Also how much cost for a month or for a week per person with taxes? Also do you have any sale for us? [yes. we sell you all as one person. Oops - student. Of course. That's what you wanted, right? Then you get one towel, one bed, one breakfast.] You know.. [ wait for it...] We are 3 person at the same time. [yeah, I got that. But only after the 7th of dec, right?] Regards, [the Turkish guy on the internet]

Maskman, part the second...

Jessa — Wed, 10 Oct 2007 04:27:21 GMT

So...we tragically had to ask Maskman (see previous entry) to vacate the premises. He's been providing us with much entertainment for the last week or so, but his creepy homemade surgical mask and disturbing breach of contact with reality has proven too much for his poor roommates. According to Mike (the new Tobyn), there were almost tears as we regaled the laundrylist of complaints that had been filed against him by his previous roommates: "he keeps the window open all the time and when I close it he starts ranting about his 'rights to oxygen' and how he needs it to survive (*editor's note* I can't help but wonder if this lack of oxygen is due to the 12 layers of gauze he's breathing through)" "he stays up all night talking to himself" "he was in the bathroom for three hours and when I asked him to come out he said he hadn't been in there long at all" "he says he's expecting a call from the white house any day now with 'an important message' for him" So we refunded him for the rest of the nights he'd paid for, and asked him to leave. Upon his departure, he came running back into the hostel, saying he had to leave a message "for someone". He wrote hurriedly upon the scrap of paper I'd provided, and then started to hand it to me. Then hesitated. Then attempted again. Then hesitated again. Then asked for an envelope, which upon receiving he taped closed. This is an account of what I was handed (after some *very* careful tape removal on my part): The Envelope: "To: Mr George Bush or White House Representative President of United State of America 9/Oct/2007" The Letter: "To: Mr. George Bush president of U.S.A. Due to unharmony situation in this hostel I leave to the Hostelling International Downtown. If you looking for me please go to 312 Mason Street San Francisco CA 94102. ~ Dr. (name withheld to protect the crazy) M.B. B.S. D.C.H M.R006 MHKCOG" Oh lordy. I don't even want to know what he thinks all those letters and numbers represent. So then my fabulous manager posts this in the Log Book for the front desk: "10/9 - Mr. (name withheld) has left a letter for the President of the United States of America. If the President of the United States of America stops by the hostel, please hand him the letter. Thanks, Mike" ...have I mentioned I love my new boss? (next entry: The mighty flag-wearing beepbeep (TM) and the "can I see it first?" girl)

Hostel Work Environment (revisited)

Jessa — Thu, 04 Oct 2007 02:43:38 GMT

**ringringring** Me: Hostelling International City Center, this is Jessa. Frantic woman of thick indeterminate accent on phone: Hello? Me: Hi there. This is the hostel. Can I help you? Frantic woman of thick indeterminate accent : Is this the hostel? Me: Yes. This is Hostelling International City Center in San Francisco. Frantic woman of thick indeterminate accent: Do you know where mumblemumblefrenchstuffmumble? Me: I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that part. What are you looking for? Frantic woman of thick indeterminate accent: This is the hostel. Me: yes...(waiting for the rest of sentence that would cause her very astute observation to have some sort of poignant meaning...it does not come) Frantic woman of thick indeterminate accent: I need mumblemumblemorefrenchstuffmumbleParis. This is a hostel. I was told this was the number to call. Me: I'm gonna need you to speak up, please. I'm still not catching what you're looking for. Me: (leaning over counter to stop transient) MA'AM! IF YOU'RE NOT CHECKED IN, YOU NEED TO NOT PANHANDLE IN THE CAFE. NO, I KNOW YOU'RE NOT CHECKED IN. LOOK - I know you're old enough to be my mother. But...wouldn't that also mean you're old enough to walk out the door WITHOUT ME HAVING TO CARRY YOU? No. Get out. No, NOW. OUT. (returning to phone). Frantic woman of thick indeterminate accent: (exasperated sigh) I. SAID. I. AM. LOOK. FOR. mumblemumbleDIRECTORYmumble(*SIGH*). Me: Directory? Of hostels in San Francisco? OK, you're gonna need to go to www.hihos- FWOTIA: (interrupting) ...for PARIS FRANCE." Me: For hostels in France? Yeah, the website will direct you to- FWOTIA: (interrupting again) NO. A directory for Paris. I need to mumblemumblefrenchstuffTELEPHONEsomethingaboutafriendfromschoolDIRECTORY. Me: I'm sorry, this is a hostel in SAN FRANCISCO. We don't have access to information about France. FWOTIA: I was given this number. Me: OK, well, I'm telling you that we don't have a telephone directory for France. *laughter from onlooking hostelers in the lobby* Me: (turning around) SIR! I need to see your pass before you can go break the elevator!! Thanks! No - THREE people at a time. Yes, seven is more than three. Remember last time? We don't want that again. (returning to phone) FWOTIA: But this is the hostel. Me: Yes, in San Francisco. We don't have anything for France. FWOTIA: well, who should I call? I was mumblemumblemumblefrenchstuffmumble... Me: Sorry? FWOTIA: Do you have money? Me: What? FWOTIA: Money for the hostel. Me: Oh, the rates to stay here? FWOTIA: Yes. Rates...mumblemumble *SIGH* Me: It's $23 for dormitories and- FWOTIA: In France? Me: No, this is SAN FRANCISCO. Me: (dropping phone and running around counter after very small Korean girl who's about to pour a whole carafe of coffee all over the floor because it's "too heavy" even though it's nearly empty) Me: (out of breath, but crisis averted and coffee promised shortly) FWOTIA: ...but they gave me this number. (Man walks up to counter in a surgical mask with a plastic bag full of various dirty pieces of business-card sized paper) Me: Can you hold please? Thanks. Me: Hello, sir. Nice mask. You clearly made it yourself. That's very clever. It's very....postapocolyptic. Oh, it's for the Asian Bird Flu. No, it doesn't "just get the Asians". Yes, I can see you're Asian. But in regards to the flu, I think anyone can catch it. Have you been playing with dead pigeons again? (FWOTIA hangs up) Me: Sir, if you need that mask, I think you should actually wear it on your face, and not your neck. No, it's kinda creepy. Maskman: Flu. I get shot. Me: Well, that's fabulous. Then why the mask? Maskman: I made it. It has GAUZE. Me: OOOH. Gauze. Cool. Maskman: *cough*

...

Jessa — Sat, 15 Sep 2007 04:21:31 GMT

I'm so fucking sick of sickness. If one more of the people I love in my life, or one of the people they love, or anyone else I know or possibly care about is diagnosed with something life-threatening, I swear I'm gonna have an even bigger breakdown than last week. And last week I cried for like 8 hours. Fuck this. It's not fair. I'm so tired of mourning.

Now I feel like a bad person.

Jessa — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 06:50:24 GMT

I just drove past a homeless guy standing in the middle of the road with a cardboard sign that said, "Seriously. I'm pregnant." and as I'm making the "I have no money" face, he flips it over and it says "I need money for an abortion." ...is it bad that I laughed so hard?

...that's more like it.

Jessa — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 04:19:23 GMT

You're a Poison-Dart Frog! "While you may be mild-mannered and unassuming at heart, you are actually a danger to the health and safety of those around you. Others like to look at you, but it might be in their best interest not to touch you. Though this isolationist policy can make you feel lonely and neglected, you can take solace in your universal beauty. You are most lethal when licked." ...lethal when licked. Heh.

ahem

Jessa — Tue, 28 Aug 2007 16:46:17 GMT

The Best. No Question. (See? I told you.)

OOH!

Jessa — Sat, 18 Aug 2007 03:49:39 GMT

http://www.imaginaryfoundation.com/index.php?pagemode=index&type=Mens%20T

...

Jessa — Wed, 08 Aug 2007 04:37:59 GMT

I don't even know what to post right now, except to say that if you don't see me for a while it's because there was a death in the family and I'm kind of in shock. so...yeah.

fascinating...

Jessa — Mon, 06 Aug 2007 06:05:03 GMT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoN6XfyQsr4 (Here's the lyrics...Not sure how it relates to the title or the ending lyric, but it's very interesting:) Thou shalt not steal if there is a direct victim. Thou shalt not worship pop idols or follow lost prophets. Thou shalt not take the names of Johnny Cash, Joe Strummer, Johnny Hartman, Desmond Decker, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix or Syd Barret in vain. Thou shalt not think that any male over the age of 30 that plays with a child that is not their own is a paedophile. Some people are just nice. Thou shalt not read NME. Thall shalt not stop liking a band just because they've become popular. Thou shalt not question Stephen Fry. Thou shalt not judge a book by it's cover. Thou shalt not judge Lethal Weapon by Danny Glover. Thall shalt not buy Coca-Cola products. Thou shalt not buy Nestle products. Thou shalt not go into the woods with your boyfriend's best friend, take drugs and cheat on him. Thou shalt not fall in love so easily. Thou shalt not use poetry, art or music to get into girls' pants. Use it to get into their heads. Thou shalt not watch Hollyoaks. Thou shalt not attend an open mic and leave before it's done just because you've finished your shitty little poem or song you self-righteous prick. Thou shalt not return to the same club or bar week in, week out just 'cause you once saw a girl there that you fancied but you're never gonna fucking talk to. Thou shalt not put musicians and recording artists on ridiculous pedestals no matter how great they are or were. The Beatles: Were just a band. Led Zepplin: Just a band. The Beach Boys: Just a band. The Sex Pistols: Just a band. The Clash: Just a band. Crass: Just a band. Minor Threat: Just a band. The Cure: Just a band. The Smiths: Just a band. Nirvana: Just a band. The Pixies: Just a band. Oasis: Just a band. Radiohead: Just a band. Bloc Party: Just a band. The Arctic Monkeys: Just a band. The Next Big Thing... JUST A BAND. Thou shalt give equal worth to tragedies that occur in non-English speaking countries as to those that occur in English speaking countries. Thou shalt remember that guns, bitches and bling were never part of the four elements and never will be. Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music, thou shalt not make repetitive generic music, thou shalt not make repetitive generic music, thou shalt not make repetitive generic music. Thou shalt not pimp my ride. Thou shalt not scream if you wanna go faster. Thou shalt not move to the sound of the wickedness. Thou shalt not make some noise for Detroit. When I say "Hey" thou shalt not say "Ho". When I say "Hip" thou shalt not say "Hop". When I say, he say, she say, we say, make some noise - kill me. Thou shalt not quote me happy. Thou shalt not shake it like a polaroid picture. Thou shalt not wish you girlfriend was a freak like me. Thou shalt spell the word "Pheonix" P-H-E-O-N-I-X not P-H-O-E-N-I-X, regardless of what the Oxford English Dictionary tells you. Thou shalt not express your shock at the fact that Sharon got off with Bradley at the club last night by saying "Is it". Thou shalt think for yourselves. And thou shalt always... thou shalt always kill.

Drunk Driving

Jessa — Fri, 20 Jul 2007 04:55:43 GMT

As sent by my Aussie friend Erin... Drink Driving... THIS is absolutely brilliant! Only an Aussie could pull this one off! From the state where drink driving is considered a sport, comes a true story from the Sunshine Coast, Queensland. Recently a routine police patrol parked outside a local neighbourhood tavern. Late in the evening the officer noticed a man leaving the bar so intoxicated that he could barely walk. The man stumbled around the car park for a few minutes, with the officer quietly observing. After what seemed an eternity and trying his keys on five vehicles, the man managed to find his car, which he fell into. He was there for a few minutes as a number of other patrons left the bar and drove off. Finally he started the car, switched the wipers on and off (it was a fine dry night), flicked the indicators on, then off, tooted the horn and then switched on the lights. He moved the vehicle forward a few cm, reversed a little and then remained stationary for a few more minutes as some more vehicles left. At last he pulled out of the car park and started to drive slowly down the road. The police officer, having patiently waited all this time, now started up the patrol car, put on the flashing lights, promptly pulled the man over and carried out a breathalyser test. To his amazement the breathalyser indicated no evidence of the man having consumed alcohol at all! Dumbfounded, the officer said; "I'll have to ask you to accompany me to the Police station this breathalyser equipment must be broken." "I doubt it," said the man, "tonight I'm the designated decoy".

Happy 21st Birthday Haley!

Jessa — Sun, 08 Jul 2007 02:29:06 GMT

You're finally allowed to go to the DNA. *smirk*

Gah. Fine.

Jessa — Sat, 30 Jun 2007 04:48:51 GMT

OKOKOKOKOK already. As a comment on this blog, leave your memories of a time that you and i had together no matter how well we know each other… Re-post this request on your blog, and read what memories others have of you!

So funny.

Jessa — Sun, 22 Apr 2007 07:40:43 GMT

A Man for All Seasons—A profile of Jeff Scattini

Jessa — Thu, 19 Apr 2007 16:46:13 GMT

by Bruce Caldwell **this was just released in the theatre newsletter in Bern, it's written by the head-honcho of the production company** It’s barely a year now since Jeff joined UPSTAGE, but in that time he has proven himself to be an invaluable member. I remember when I first met him at a club meeting where there had been a rather contentious debate regarding some procedure or another. Afterwards, he confided in me quite frankly that he loves theatre but is a “no nonsense” guy and never plays politics. Since then we have been witness to his conviction as well as his expertise. Jeff wasted no time in demonstrating his skills and enthusiasm. He jumped right in as the lighting designer/technician for “It Could Be Anyone of Us” and showed his mettle by doing a most competent job. Not one to shirk the call in times of need, Jeff volunteered to direct the upcoming production of “Dangerous Corner” and from what I have heard, the preliminary impression of him as a director has been altogether positive. Now it must be said, Jeff has quite a background. He started out in theatre when he was sixteen, doing high school and community productions. He appeared in Macbeth, The Crucible, Twelfth Night, Noises Off, and a bunch of others. He performed not only onstage but also in radio plays, and in one or two independent movies until he was 18 or so. He also directed one or two pieces. After that, he got heavily involved in improvisation and worked with many San Francisco based groups in theatres, on the streets, and in restaurants. Jeff spent a year at university in Swansea, Wales where he went back to radio. He was invited to join the Swansea Players in the title role of Ivanov. He also designed the lighting for that show. After moving back to San Francisco, he spent most of his time designing lighting, performing improv, and working at a veterinary hospital as a medical technician. He became the artist in residence for the Ramshackle Farm art gallery and focused more on painting than on theatre. Continued on page 8 NEWSLETTER APRIL 2007 7 During those years he also wrote and published poetry, short stories, and music and nightlife articles along with becoming a professional writer in technical fields. More recently, he designed the lighting for the show "Confessions of an ex-Mormon Stripper" which has since premiered at the SF Fringe Festival. He completed a show in San Francisco called Abbreviated Enlightenment, which is an actor-written sketch show. He was the assistant director for an improv adaptation of Oliver Twist, and wrote and produced his first graphic novel, Bedtime Story. These days he is working as a technical writer in Bern. He has also been playing with puppets and video cameras and has created a few short video sketches. Add to this some published photography, poetry slams, learning to play guitar, mandolin and harmonica and you get a man for all seasons who brings a wealth of skill and talent to UPSTAGE.

I'm a joiner.

Jessa — Tue, 17 Apr 2007 23:42:32 GMT

You are Strength Courage, strength, fortitude. Power not arrested in the act of judgement, but passing on to further action, sometimes obstinacy. This is a card of courage and energy. It represents both the Lion's hot, roaring energy, and the Maiden's steadfast will. The innocent Maiden is unafraid, undaunted, and indomitable. In some cards she opens the lion's mouth, in others she shuts it. Either way, she proves that inner strength is more powerful than raw physical strength. That forces can be controlled and used to score a victory is very close to the message of the Chariot, which might be why, in some decks, it is Justice that is card 8 instead of Strength. With strength you can control not only the situation, but yourself. It is a card about anger and impulse management, about creative answers, leadership and maintaining one's personal honor. It can also stand for a steadfast friend.

I am in Switzerland.

Jessa — Wed, 04 Apr 2007 09:58:43 GMT

It is not snowing. I am greatly disappointed. But there's bluebells everywhere, which placates my rage. A little.

I have spent the entire night reading this webpage.

Jessa — Sun, 25 Mar 2007 12:17:26 GMT

No, seriously. http://www.notproud.com/lust/lust20937.php Oh, man.

Lesson du jour:

Jessa — Tue, 20 Mar 2007 00:43:48 GMT

It is better to have the fight than to avoid the fight and be miserable all the time.

I caved.

Jessa — Sun, 11 Mar 2007 21:39:41 GMT

I now have a flickr account. http://www.flickr.com/photos/7292507@N07/ Lookit me bein' all hitched and silly.

To Hell With This Hippie "Daylight Savings" Bullshit.

Jessa — Sun, 11 Mar 2007 16:04:29 GMT

Yes, your friendly neighborhood graveyard-shifter is working a morning shift. On a Sunday. On daylight savings. The day after heavily drinking for 9 hours straight. I think my manager must really hate me. That, or I've somehow unwittingly gotten myself into a scientific sleep deprivation study. Exhaustion and dehydration and foot pain notwithstanding, yesterday was a total blast. I got to spend some quality time with a good friend, drink some cheap champagne, raise a glass of whiskey to my far-away boyfriend, get kicked out of Victoria's Secret for trying to take a photograph, eat hot dogs and girl scout cookies while flouncing around Union Square in a wedding dress and leather corset, and generally just be silly and ridiculous. I like those kinds of days. Thanks to everyone who showed up and played with us, and everyone who tolerated my drunk text message replies. You know who you are. Check your phone. I don't have a digital camera, so the onslaught of utterly hilarious pictures will have to wait until I get film developed, or until the gal I was with uploads the ones she took. Or until the drunk boy in drag emails me the shots he promised. Forthcoming, though. I swear it. **editor's note: I spent the day wearing a sign that says "i don't" (see above picture). It was an excellent prop and made for a good excuse to be inaccessible, aloof, and bitchy. Not that I *was* necessarily...but...y'know.... Threatening people with kitchen implements (spatula and spaghetti lifter also pictured) and referring to them as "spousal discipline utensils" is more my style anyway.**

Tomorrow I buy my first wedding dress...

Jessa — Mon, 05 Mar 2007 13:56:53 GMT

I'm going. I know a few other folks who are going. Are YOU going? http://bridesofmarch.org/Brides/BridesOfMarch.html If you're not, you're totally missing out.