I Don't Give a Hoot About What People Have to Say

Yes, I know. Tell us something we already didn't know.

I spent the better part of Monday and Tuesday in the Central Valley for work. My meeting was in Fresno, but it cost nearly a thousand dollars to fly into Fresno (via LA), so being a good corporate citizen I saved my employer some money flew into Oakland and drove down. The rental didn't have satellite radio (my Emerald Club membership has spoiled me) and I had forgotten to bring any music, so I had a choice: buy some CDs, listen to whatever dreadful radio stations broadcast in the valley, or drive in silence. For three hours. Three long hours.

I opted to buy.

The Starbucks in Oakland only had an Ella Fitzgerald CD. She is one of my favorites, so I bought it. Of course, it was excellent, but not so good that I wanted to hear it for the next three hours. I stopped at the Target in Tracy to pick up some snacks when I decided to foray into the electronics department. As I was looking for a car charger for my new MOTORAZR (which I love), I heard a familiar beat. And then some familiar lyrics.

"...and then we'll ride, so zoomy inside..."

Discouraged at the selection of car chargers, I started looking at DVDs

"...The sky's the limit..."

At that moment, a kid started screaming. Thankfully, he disappeared soon.

"...I don't give a hoot about what people have to say..."

I started doing a little happy dance.

"...Nothing matters but the weekend
From a Tuesday point of view
Like a kettle in the kitchen
I feel the steam begin to brew..."

Is it? Could it be? No way!

The segue that I hadn't heard on the radio in ten years? That I had been looking for on CD for fifteen years and couldn't find? That I had forgotten all about??

WAY! "This Beat Goes On/Switching to Glide" from the Kings!!

But the question remained...where were these elusive songs coming from? I had to find them! Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimse of a monitor. The next video clip was already playing, but I saw a display of CD anthologies of "retro" music.

I HAD TO FIND THEM!!

Once I (quickly) got over yet another reminder that the music of my youth (and not-so-youth) was now considered "retro" the hunt began. Was I being seduced into thinking that I would find he sought-after song only to find I had been sucker-punched by clever marketing? Would I be forced to do the unthinkable and renounce Target as the absolute king of retail? The drama! The suspense! The intrigue! And all right there at West Valley Mall.

I started tearing through the display to find the magic disc that had those songs. After not very much tearing, I across one of a few copies of "You Can Still Rock in America: 1980's Radio." As I scanned the track list, my brow furrowed and my eyes slightly squinted, I realized that I was victorious. I had found the songs.

I HAD FOUND THEM!!

Along the way, I also picked up "Maniac: 80s Workout" and "Party Starter: 80s Mix." At $8.95 a pop, how could I pass them up?

So, thanks to the afore-mentioned Kings tune as well as "Real Wild Child," "I'm So Excited," "Its Raining Men," (precipitation I will galdly get caught in any ol' day of the week) "Walking on Sunshine,""Walk Like an Egyptian," and others, my sojurn up and down the San Jouquin Valley was just a tad bit more pleasant.

Like the green Central Valley landscape, this beat goes on and on and on and on and on...


If anybody's interested, here's a link to the King's web site

http://www.thekingsarehere.com/

and to the video of "This Beat Goes On/Switchin' to Glide"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lHRfyG48yn4

Walking About in San Diego

I am one of the fortunate few who can, most days, walk to work. When I am not working at my downtown San Diego office I am working in Mission Valley, which is a short drive, moderate bus ride, or long trolley ride from my East Village home. I've been working in MV for a while now and today was the first day in a while that I was back in my usual office so I've noticed some changes. During the time I was in down in the Valley, significant progress has been made on the renovation of the old Owl Drug building. Many might remember it as the scary Rite-Aid or Thrifty at the corner of Sixth and Broadway. Today, they started painting the street-level facade and it looks like they are actively marketing the space for retail and restaurant tenants. The building is being sold as office condos, which is nice to see. The residential influx is good, but a balance of offices is important, too. Also encouraging is the street-level retail that is popping up with the new condos on Market Street as well as on "G" Street and on 9th Avenue. Before long, Cafe Noir will have some more competition with the new coffee house opening soon behind Lotus Thai (my favorite Thai restaurant) on 9th. Seems eons ago that I would walk around my neighborhood and see empty storefront after empty storefront wondering whether I had made a huge mistake moving down here. Hooterville-by-the-Sea is becoming a little less Hooterville-ish.

Here, kitty, kitty, kitty

It's 3AM. I have to get up at 7 if I want to squeak in a walk before work. I'm dreaming of tropical isles and scantily-clad men. And then I hear it.

MMMRRRRRRWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW

The sound of kitty in the meat grinder. Is something wrong? Did Willy get his paw caught in the Roman shade while pawing at the "outside" cat on the other side of the door? Is he writhing in pain on the floor? Is he trying to deliver a Lassie-esque message about poor little Timmy and the trouble he's in?

Hell, no! He's lonely.

Again.


This all started about a month ago when the "outside" cats stopped hanging around every night. Back in Spetember, a neighbor moved and left their cats behind. Willy has never played with these cats in person, he's just pawed at them through the glass of my patio door. They used to hang around day and night and now only come around occasionally. First, I caught Willy looking out the window for them. Then the meowing started.

See, Willy used to have a sister named Hillary. Well, a half-sister. Daddy was quite the stud with the ladies. Willy is the offspring of Bonjo and Momma Cat and Hillary was the child of Bonjo and Missy. They were born a couple of weeks apart in Spring, 1992. They are Scottish Folds, a breed where the ears of some kittens fold back. Both Willy and Hillary had "peaked" (ie, normal) ears, so they were less desirable to fanciers of Scottish Folds. Since no one wanted one, let alone two, peaked-ear Folds, they were never sold. I adopted them when they were three years old.

Willy and Hillary used to play in the wee-wee hours by chasing each other around the house. Up the stairs, around the rooms, down the stairs and on and on. Hillary passed away a couple of years ago and, over time, Willy began to relish only cat-hood. Once the outdoor cats arrived on and then vanished from the scene, he started acting lonely. When he meows (did I mention at 3AM?) and I get up, he starts running around, as if he wants to be chased. Although it is encouraging that he's still running around at the age of 15, I sure as hell am not going to chase him at 3AM. So, I'm looking for a pet for Willy.

The "outside" cats are out...I read an article that claimed 40% of street cats have FIV and/or Feline Leukemia. I'm not sure how he will take to an adult cat, anyway, so I am on the lookout for a kitten. Although I had considered buying a Scottish Fold, JeSais, my parents, my co-workers, and most anyone else I talked to have convinced me to adopt a shelter kitty. So, the search is on. A kitten for Willy and Stack. Let's just hope it likes to play at 3AM.

As for Timmy, if he's out there (and not too little), I'll get him into some trouble he'll want Lassie to keep quiet about.

Check This Out...

Hey, kids, looking for more rants to read? Click on eebie. He's a cool guy with something to say, even when he says nothing at all. Check him out.

Anna Nicoulter Smith

So, its been a while since my last post and I have to tell you, I'm struggling. Upon jumping online this evening I saw that two of my favorite blond bombshells were back in the news. Today was not only Anna Nicole Smith's funeral, but Ann Coulter's day to appear before the Conservative Political Action Conference. The idea was to somehow connect the two and I just can't do it. I mean, they're nothing alike! Anna Nicole was pretty, yet trashy. Ann is just pretty trashy. Anna Nicole didn't always make sense. Ann never makes sense. Anna Nicole was busty and bold. Ann is crusty and cold. See...no similarities whatsoever. What was I thinking?

Hummingbirds, part 2

Congrats to JeSais for correctly, uh, googling that "Buzzy the Hummingbird" was the mascot for "Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs," which was Calvin's favorite cereal in Calvin and Hobbes.

Hummingbirds

Today was bagel day at work. My co-worker was bringing in bagels and I was bringing in the Starbucks. Problem was, when I got to Starbucks I forgot that I was picking up coffee (and that it was bagel day) and proceeded to order a Grande and a scone. Between the sugary scone and the coffee, I had rather the buzz by the time I got to work, at which point I remembered that it was bagel day (the big tub o' bagels served as a nice reminder) and so I dashed off to Starbucks. While I was waiting for them to brew up a fresh pot (they have to brew a batch just for the Coffee Traveler) I enjoyed yet another cup. (Props to Starbucks: They give you a nice-sized container of half and half and tons of Sugar in the Raw, Equal, and coffee implements) Back at the office, I poured a mug of the fresh stuff and had a bagel. At this point, I was flying around the office, typing up a flurry of e-mails, and making phone calls left and right. All before 10 AM. I described myself as "Buzzy the Hummingbird" (anyone care to guess what comic strip that's from and who it was?) to one of the folks in the office.

I was still on the sugar- and caffeine high by the time lunch rolled around and having not brought lunch I walked to the little Chinese place at the end of the street. On the way, I saw a bunch of hummingbirds feeding off the flowering trees that adorn one of the apartment complexes in Mission Valley. What a coincidence, meeting the real deal while I was still feeling very hummingbird-like. After lunch, I almost grabbed more Starbucks, but my inner hummingbird convinced me otherwise.

This Just In from the Chicago Tribune...

The online edition of the Chicago Tribune reports that "... Democrats had won the pivotal Virginia Senate race, claiming Democrat Jim Webb had unseated Republican George Allen and that had given the Democrats total control of Congress for the first time in 12 years...."

Saint Anselm had his proof for the existence of God and I have mine.

God bless America!

Another One Bites the Dust

By now, you have probably heard all about Ted Haggard, the now-deposed Senior Pastor of New Life Church and newly-former President of the National Association of Evangelicals. Apparently, the not-so-good Pastor (who favors outlawing same-gender marriages on the grounds that they will break up families) bought methamphetamine from and engaged in trysts with a male prostitute. According to the prostitute, Mr Haggard would snort the meth before they engaged in what Haggard described as "sexual immorality." According to Haggard, he had a "massage" and threw the drugs away. I'm sorry, rev, but "throwing the drugs away" is even more preposterous than "I tried pot but I didn't inhale." As for the other details of the encounter (or encounters) all I can say is that it must have been one hell of a massage if it made him resign from his post as Senior Pastor of his church.

Which leads me to the next bit of preposterousness. I still can't figure out how allowing two people of the same gender to marry is going to lead to the decline of the American family. I think that hypocrisy, infidelity, hiring a prostitute, and purchasing/using illegal drugs would lead to the decline of more families than would allowing two men or two women to marry one another. I just don't see heterosexual couples saying "if the gays and lesbians can get married, then we'll stay single! No more having babies, buying homes, and attending church for us!" Then again, if we allow gay people to marry and grant them the same rights and expect them to fulfill the same responsibilities as we do heterosexual people, it might be more difficult to demonize them. And we certainly can't have that.

Viruses, Candidates, and Other Assorted Nuisances

This is ridiculous. The nasty cold is STILL kickin' my butt. I'm thinking it will be over just in time for Thanksgiving. At least I will have something to be thankful for. While we are on the topic of giving thanks, is anyone else counting down the days until the day after the election? Why the day after the election? Because on that day, the political ads will abate and we can go back to the usual inane and distasteful ads for stuff, rather than ads for inane and distasteful candidates. Sadly, it won't be the end of inane comments from the likes of our president who was quoted in today's newspaper as saying that a victory for Democrats means a victory for terrorists. In the same story, he trotted out the old saw about marriage being between a man and a woman. Somehow, he missed immigration and taxes. Democrats and fags, America's enemies number 1!

Something, um, "special" in the air

The great thing about deregulated air travel is that for a relatively modest sum one can get almost anywhere relatively quickly. The not-so-great thing is that one must travel inside of a sealed metal tube and breathe dry, recycled, virulent air in order to do so. As often happens, I caught a nasty cold while on vacation and was positively miserable my last day in Chicago and the thre days after I returned home. Hence, no posting until today. So...I'm going to post the piece that I started in the Newark airport and continued while en route from Chicago to San Diego. I accidentally took non-non drowsy cold medicine before the flight home, so I can't vouch for the writing. Happy reading!

I began writing this while waiting for my flight from Newark to Chicago. Visiting with family and friends, meeting two new dogs, playing with my nephew, exploring the great city of Chicago, and more playing with my nephew came in the way of finishing the original piece and working on another. So, with time on my hands en route from Chicago to San Diego I am writing a superpiece. Hopefully, it is truly super.

Walking, more walking, two movies, still more walking, a museum, and yet more walking rounded out the NYC portion of my trip. I explored every section of Manhattan below 110^th Street and I have the blisters to prove it. I decided to limit myself to two museums on the NYC trip and, having already visited the Pierpont Morgan library, I chose The Museum of the City of New York as museum #2. It was Columbus Day, the holiday seemingly celebrated only by banks and cities in which there is a significant Italian community, and I chose this museum because I wasn’t up for the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Cloisters (technically part of the Met, albeit a few miles away on the other side of town) was closed. If you are looking for a low-key low-stress museum, check it out. It costs nine bucks and well worth every penny, even if the NYFD exhibit didn’t have any pictures of hunky firefighters. Dammit.

As everyone knows, the only thing predictable about Chicago’s weather is that it is unpredictable. From a 70-degree Christmas morning to 3 feet of snow in April, Frank Sinatra’s kind of town never fails to serve up a variety of weather conditions. So, it was no surprise to step out of the terminal at O’Hare and find that the city was having its coldest October 11 in many, many years. Nor was it surprising, albeit disappointing, to not see fall colors but snow the next morning. Snow, I tell you, snow! No orange maple leaves. No golden oaks. Snow. The earliest snow on record. Fortunately, the sun came out, the snow melted and it was just cold for the next seven days. I managed to spend a solid day tromping around the North Side and Loop (after I bought a scarf and snarfed down some cold medication) and even saw a couple of golden orange trees out in the ex-urb in which my family lives. For the record, we are city people. They grew up in the “old neighborhood” (which has since become gentrified for the second time) and my brother and I grew up in a section of town that was part post-WWII housing and part an old town annexed by the City of Chicago in the early 1900’s. My parents moved out to The Land Beyond the Land Beyond the Land Beyond O’Hare a few years ago after my brother and his family moved out there.

The silver lining to “too cold to do serious tromping” was that I had a great visit with my parents (I only had to referee two arguments) and spent rather a lot of time playing with the afore-mentioned nephew, a very tall lad of almost five years. Given the duration of my trip, I was able to have a lot of one-on-one hang-out time with my brother and sister-in-law individually and my brother and sister-in-law together. It’s amazing how well we get along when our parents are not around. Not that my parents aren’t great people, they just add a certain dimension of, uh, “excitement” whenever they are around.

My last day in Chicago was the worst day of my cold. I returned to Santa Anas in San Diego. While they added to my misery, at least I was miserable all at one time. Small miracles – gotta love ‘em.

A Bite Out of the Big Apple

Some people go to New York City to see shows. Others eat themselves into oblivion. Me? I walk a lot and start a blog.

The friend who is graciously hosting me on a futon in his Upper West Side apartment is an engineering student at CUNY, so I'm on my own for much of the day when he is studying and for much of the night after he goes to bed, given the three hour difference between West Coast time and East Coast time. Rather than talk to myself (and get a sock stuffed in my rather ample trap) finally starting the blog seemed like a good idea. And here we are!

Anyhow...One of the best vacations for me is to visit a place where public transit and walking, not cars, rein supreme. This vacation is a two-fer. Four days in New York City and seven days in Chicago. This is Day 2 of the NYC leg. Yesterday was spent getting my bearings after not having been here in two years. Just walked around taking the place in. Today, after meandering down the West Side past Lincoln Center and a taking a lunch break at Whole Foods, I braved the crowds at Times and Herald Sqaures and walked over to Madison and 36th to the J.P. Morgan Library. It is a very interesting little museum showcasing the personal collections of J Pierpont Morgan. Seems Pierpont fancied renaissance art and amassed rather an impressive collection of it. There's also an extensive collection of manuscripts (seeing one of Henry David Thoreau's diaries that spawned a passage in "Walden" was a highlight) After that, I wandered down through Chelsea to the West Village, had a snack, read the Onion while spying the handsome men, and hopped the subway back to home base. Met my friend for a burger at Jackson Hole (where they have the best dill pickles) and drank at Dive Bar til my drowsy bud and I had enough of the crowd and called it a night.

Speaking of which, it is time for me to do the same. Nighty night.