Random Thoughts

I got an email from someone saying they were going to Mexico. It reminded me of the NYE I spent in Playa Del Carmen. Playa is a hip little town just south of Cancun. It’s a hot destination for Argentineans, Italians, and Mexicans, giving it a much more international flavor. There are some really cool spots for nightlife, with stylish decor and beautiful lighting. However, there seems to be some kind of a napkin shortage. No matter where I went for food, I always got a single cocktail-sized napkin with my meal. Just one. It was thin and single-ply. It did nothing to absorb the mess of my meal. And it was impossible to get another. I don’t know if all of Mexico is experiencing a napkin shortage. It may just be the Yucutan Peninsula, or it may just be Playa Del Carmen. I do know that the next time I go there, I’m bringing my own napkins.

I was out and about recently and wound up at Pink for a special event. I sent an email RSVP for the event, but Suzanna my spontaneous partner in crime, had not. The woman at the door told us this was RSVP only, and it was totally full right now so even with an RSVP I’d need to wait. Suzanna and I stepped aside and looked at the smoker’s pen just outside Pink. For those of you not familiar with California law, it’s illegal to smoke inside bars and clubs. So clubs erect these temporary fenced-in outdoor areas for smokers using police barricades. Well, there was a healthy gap in the fence where it met the building. And nobody was paying attention so I suggested we squeeze in to the smoker’s pen and then go in. Suzanna was scared so I went first. Voila, I’m on the other side of the fence. She waited a few minutes, gathered up her courage and then squeezed in. She told me one of the girls in the smoker’s pen said “nice move” to her as she squeezed in.

I noticed this small act of rule breaking was intoxicating for Suzanna. She really got a rush from it. And I was suddenly endowed with a kind of bad boy appeal. Maybe it’s because Suzanna is married and her life is relatively sedate. But I gotta say, I kind of liked being seen as having a touch of badness to me. I could never do anything really bad, like the wife-beater t-shirt wearing guys who get unceremoniously stuffed into the back seat on COPS (although I do like to wear wife-beater t-shirts). I need to find more of this “bad boy lite” kind of stuff. Any suggestions?

I ate lunch at the hot new Mission district spot - Pizzeria Delifina. It’s tiny, but the decor is cool and the food is incredible just like the big sister Delfina next door. Just before the pizza came, they brought me a little white plate with two little piles of stuff on it. The stuff was grated parmesan and oregano. This is a very fancy way to give you parmesan and oregano. But why is that fancy? It means they didn’t bother to spend money on special parmesan and oregano dispensers. Shouldn’t it be fancy to have special containers/dispensers that hold parmesan and oregano? You know what’s really fancy? Dirty plates. OK, that isn’t really fancy. But it if serving spices in a pile on plain white plate is fancy, maybe dirty plates should be fancy, too. I think I’m going to open a really fancy restaurant and call it “Floor”. I’m taking this fancy thing to the next level. You have to eat on the floor. From dirty plates. Fancy? You can’t handle the fancy.

I think the milk people started it. There were these “got milk” ads that promoted milk. They weren’t selling Berkeley Farms milk or any specific brand of milk. It was just milk. Buy milk. There must be some sort of milk mafia that’s got a vested interest in milk as a whole (no pun intended). Then eggs and pork got in on the act. “Give eggs a break” they told us (translation: “eat more eggs”). And pork wanted us to know it was good stuff, too. It’s the other white meat. So buy more pork, please. Now wine is hopping on the bandwagon. I just saw an ad plastered on a wall promoting Italian wine. I can see where this is heading.

Some ads of the future:

“Drive a Car! It’s easier than walking.”

“Wear Shoes! They make your feet look good.”

“Brik-a-brak! Because you need more clutter.”

Ah, the future looks bright indeed…

I’m going to make my second trek out to Burning Man this year to experience the insanity in the desert once again. The last time I was there, I remember Soren complaining about a group of men who were “Donald Ducking”. I think Soren invented the term — it means you’re wearing a shirt but are otherwise naked. So you’re running around with the top half covered but you’re letting it all hang out down below. That’s weird. Who the hell feels comfortable letting their manhood soak up the sunshine and fresh air but decides to shield society from their naked chest? Donald Duck, that’s who. And I haven’t been able to look at Donald the same way ever since.

Also, a naked man riding a bicycle is not a pretty sight. Please Burning Man naked people, put some pants on before hopping on your bicycle. Thank you.

I think my blog hasn’t been helpful enough lately. So today I’m going to help prepare you for international adventure! Prepare for travel to London for pints of beer, Indian food, and incredible nightlife.

Have you ever heard English slang? I have, and I can tell you there’s a pattern. It’s all based on people’s names. If you’re horny, in England you are “Randy”. If you’re belligerent, in England you are “Larry”. If something got stolen, in England it was “Nicked”. I think there were three English fellows long ago who were nothing but trouble. Randy was always chasing the ladies, Larry was always picking fights, and Nick had some sticky fingers.

Some every day words seem to have been jumbled around when crossing the Atlantic. If you’re in the UK, let’s just say you don’t want to talk about wearing a fanny pack over your pants. Fanny and pants mean something totally different over there.

Now you can buy a ticket to London and blend in like a local…except for the bad teeth.

There are a lot of people here in San Francisco who spend time staring at the pixels on their computer screen. I’m one of them. Between the fog and the time spent indoors with a computer, we’re mighty pale. Mighty pale. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could get a nice tan while working at our computers? Yes it would. Thus was born my idea for the “Monitan”.

What is the Monitan? Well, I’m glad you asked. Let me tell you. The Monitan is a special kind of computer display (aka monitor). It doesn’t just beam out electrons. Oh no. This computer monitor also beams out tanning UV rays. People would have to start showing up to work in their bathing suits to avoid getting a farmer’s tan. I envison cubicles filled with folks holding those old school 3-fold tanning mirrors during their breaks. Then we can all look like George Hamilton. Doesn’t everybody want to look like George Hamilton?

I bought a candy bar today. It was a Whatchamacallit. As I stared at the shiny wraper on my way back to work, I wondered who gets to name candy bars. Whatchamacallit is a great candy bar name. Butterfinger, however, is a horrible candy bar name. I always thought it was a chocolate covered stick of butter. I never got close to one, even if it wound up in my halloween booty as a kid. Who wants chocolate covered butter!? Not this consumer of confectionary creations. I’ve been told Butterfinger is filled with peanut butter, not dairy butter, but I suspect this is a trick to get me to eat a chocolate covered bar of butter. I used to work with a woman who was from Idaho and she would return from trips back home with a candy called the Idaho Spud that she handed out to us all. Chocolate covered potatoes are not my idea of a magical treat. Idaho, please take that one back to the drawing board.

It’s the 4th of July and that means we celebrate our independence. This has me reflecting woefully upon the 2004 election that gave us George W. If I ever want to become president, I’m definitely hiring Karl Rove.

After the election I was staring in disbelief at the map of blue states and red states. Like George W’s missing year of National Guard service, I thought something may be missing from our electoral calculations. Money. Moolah. El Dinero. I had a hunch that the blue states were the heart of America’s economic muscle. I mean look at those red states. Is anything going on in there besides a whole lot of cousin marrying?

So I started poking around. The Bureau of Economic Analysis has some state by state economic data. After taking that data and trying to figure out how the hell to use Excel, I found out California has a monster of an economy. It makes up over 13% of our GDP. The next runner-up is New York at almost 8% of our GDP. So California and New York alone make up 21% of the US economy! Of the top 10 economic states in the US, 6 were blue ones and they make up 36% of the GDP, while the 4 red ones make up a meager 19%.

So what I found out is that the blue states are financing the red state country bumpkin bible thumpers that are now pushing us around. Independence Day has me thinking very independently. Why the hell am I bankrolling this insanity!? Maybe the blue states should break off and do our own thing. Anybody think I can get Karl Rove to lend me a hand with this project?

(special thanks to Michele for reminding me of this discovery)