Though he teased us that we could someday need the skill of oral storytelling in order to save our lives, the fact remains that our lives are our stories, and, if we are willing to take a moment to listen, we can understand each other, and our selves.
I’m kinda sad that I missed this. Ira Glass: This American Storyteller.
It’s been almost two months since Kat moved out of her old apartment. After weeks and weeks of searching, Kat and I found the winning couch this afternoon at a store called Denmark 50 along Melrose. There were a lot of close calls the past few weeks in choosing the right couch, but it eventually dawned on us that choosing a couch is a serious commitment that warrants extensive soul searching, sort of like scoping out a potential long-term relationship and not like haphazardly choosing a drunken one-night-stand at the local pub. It’s easy to fall in love, but it definitely makes more sense to do your homework in order to keep the love everlasting.
And so (just like the 4 other couches that came before it, hehe) we knew at once that the mustard mid-century modern piece from Denmark was the one. Pictures when we get her home next weekend :)
Is it really Friday?
Right before I leave the house, the dog decides to piss all over his leg. Must be a sign of things to come.
When I get to the office, one of the guys tells me that a jackass customer ran off with a box of paint and other tidbits from the shop.
Fortunately, we setup surveillance cameras throughout the showroom floor, and caught the bastard on video. So I’ve spent the past couple of hours trying to figure out how to export the damn video, or even just screenshots of the schmuck into a USB key, and it ain’t working. Trying to access it through the network isn’t happening either, looks like it would only work with an old version of IE. Why am I always stuck with crap software? Nothing ever f cking works the way it should.
So I decide to take a break and pickup my freshly coated exhaust parts from Pyramid Powdercoaters down the street. I take the dog out with me, and he decides to piss on his leg. Again.
I need a beer. Like, 3 hours ago.
Just got back into the west coast from almost a week in New York. Spent the week with plenty of cool refreshments and met up with the usual cool cats of the East Coast, sponsored by Casa de Gatchalian. In a few hours I still have to take the Bart, make the OAK – LAX leg, and ride the Vespa up the 405 straight to work. It was a good run, and excited to see how the pictures will turn out. The weather was perfect while we were there, with the exception of one wet day. I took a lot of TTV shots, and got a lot of stares because of my ghetto cardboard tube light blocker thingamajig.
The weirdest part, was randomly running into people. First, was Jaime and Nic spotting us in the outskirts of Central Park. I mean, how the hell do you run into people you know in a sea of billions of people? And second was running into my old coworker OJ right by his bus stop. The funny thing is, the exact same thing happened the last time we were in the city and ran into Donna, my neighbor who I haven’t seen in forever. Nuts.
I think I just felt an earthquake.
With so many of them happening around the world in rapid succession, I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re up next!
We as consumers have expectations on how things should work. A microwave should heat up my food. A brake pedal is designed to stop the car. We buy things because they’re meant to do something in particular. Manufacturers/service providers thrive in this capitalist market, and owe their existence to generating value through their ability to address a need and fulfill it. Of course there is that delicate balance between money and value, both horizontally and vertically through the supply chain. Doesn’t matter if you’re a consumer buying from a retailer, or a wholesaler buying from a manufacturer. Spend less, get less. Spend more, get more. Or that’s how it’s supposed to be.
Technology needs to become more transparent. The last thing anyone in the cube wants to worry about, is a supposed solution that only causes more problems. Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck with 1988-era answers to 2010-era problems.
For the first time, I found it a bit disturbing that the frequency and depth of my writing is somewhat affected by my alcohol intake. Even though I am naturally inquisitive and spend many a minute pondering the grandeur of nonsense, I usually find myself uninspired to place it in writing until a cohesive string of ideas are conjured up and ready for baking.
I have to admit that it’s a lot more enjoyable to sit down and sort things out when you’re carrying a little head buzz. Also, the world makes more sense with beer in hand. And as Batman may have it, I am sitting sober as a stone on a Friday night pecking away at the keyboard. Le sigh.
I was going through my old files when I came across the following printout. It was for an art class in my junior year, when I was in the throes of attempting to get a Studio Arts minor under my belt (short lived, and was blown out of the water once I started taking upper division Finance classes). Prof. Holman asked each of us to bring a little snippet, story, picture, whatever that speaks about art and design, make a copy for everyone and take a few minutes at the beginning of each class to talk about it. Here’s what I brought:
Wow. Last week, my credit card company called to inform me of potential fraudulent activity on my card. I occasionally get these calls since I traverse frequently between SF and LA, and the agent usually explains that the nature of multiple gas transactions are flags for dubious activity.
This time, the agent tries to verify with me a $400 charge at a supermarket around Bell in East LA, and then another $500 charge at a different supermarket, and then another $500 charge. I don’t have a huge family to feed and spending $1,800 in a single day on groceries located an hour away from my house don’t float, yo.
And then I come across this today: http://laist.com/2010/03/08/sheriffs_deputies_bust_id_theft_rin.php
To be honest, I’m pretty impressed. If people can do this, imagine the other stuff they could do – legal, and otherwise. And no doubt, they’ll just get better at their game.
Took the Vespa to work today. Just my luck, that it started pouring as soon as I got out of dinner. I was still a ways off, and had to ride the entire stretch in a pour. I’m happy with my jacket, which rolled off all the water. It wasn’t too bad except that I wish I had some RainX on my face shield and my butt was super cold and wet by the time I got home. Felt like wearing an old soggy diaper.
I’ve only ridden in the rain once before, when Ms. Kat brushed off the thunderstorm and lightning and insisted we ride up to SF from the Easy Bay to meet up with other scooterists (SFSG) for a rally. What a gangsta.
Anyway, not the first time that the lack of weather knowledge has gotten me into a wet situation. :)
Yesterday was my first time up to Squaw Valley where we spent the Sunday snowboarding. There was a storm that rolled in on Saturday so we were expecting a fresh dump of snow and clear conditions on the slopes. It was also Kat’s first time to ski, and she took her first classes. It was actually really hot since the sun was out full force, and I was roasting under the jacket with just a base layer and t-shirt.
I ditched my butt-pads in the interest of time and for the sake of any unfortunate onlookers who may happen to see me squirm my way into a tight pair of shorts. Whenever I would strap on the board, I would notice that my ass is soaking up a lot more moisture from the snow and attributed it to the missing ass-pads. At some point during the morning though, I kept noticing that my bib was several inches shorter than how I remember it to be. And how it was riding high up into my butt. Out of curiosity, I ask Kat if her bib is loose. And she replies in the affirmative. Apparently, we somehow switched our gear. Nice.
I wish I took more photos of Kat’s amazing sunburn. It’s just on her nose. Very cute.
Drove down from SF this morning, and went straight to work. Since we are leaving the dog up north with Kat for the week, I kept getting hallucinations of a white fluffy ball roaming near my feet around the house. Oh, Mondays.
I finally got around to disassembling the exhaust system of the bus, with the intention of boiling out and refurbishing the heat exchangers. It took me two beers and a few hours of squirming underneath the bus to get the (really) tight bolts out of the way and I got the muffler and exhaust system out eventually, sans three bolts. I dropped off the pipes at this place called L&M Stripping, which will strip out the rust, gunk, and the burnt oil residue that coats the inner walls of the heater boxes that my lucky passengers are inhaling if I choose to operate the heater. Hopefully it goes well. The next stop is getting them hi-temp ceramic coated. I’m scurred of putting everything back together, especially from what I read about exhaust leaks. I don’t really know my way around cars – with the Bentley guide as my bible, I just hacked at it with my socket wrench and put my faith in bahala na si Batman. Hopefully it goes well!
It’s one of those days that you need a beer for no good reason. Just because.