"I'm Clarence, a 4G hotspot."

[Via]

How/why did I think this Pinterest thing had something to do with Harold Pinter?

Shoes By Carlos Santana

No, really.

Could arguably (only that, though!) be funnier if it were in the tags.

"I can do this too, but only with black."

Happy Thanksgiving, Loser (i.e., Me)

Yesterday brought some bad news; an unexpected death in the family, if you will. This brings to an end the most disappointing and difficult year I've had in my life. I was already so down in the trenches that the impact of the bad news was probably far less than it could have been, had I been having an easier time to start. Should I be thankful for that? An inauspicious end to an inauspicious year, is how I think of it. Isn't the end of the world coming in 2012? Finally, something to look forward to.

Being a California girl, New York City (in my age 16 imagination) was either the uptown of MANHATTAN or the downtown and Brooklyn of DESPERATELY SEEKING SUSAN. I realized last night that in fact, those two NYCs were my reality for the dozen years I lived there. How lucky am I? For a city to be everything your 16-year-old mind dreamed of, and more? I still miss NYC terribly, a year after moving. I wonder when that will fade, the wistfulness.

I guess it's time for me to start reading Didion.

Tom Scocca and I share a birthday, it seems. Don't know why it freaks me out, but for context: I greatly admire Tom Scocca's writing.

Undernotes Of Irony, With A Genuine Finish

One night this past week, we were doing our usual channel surfing and the husband joked, "What, no 'Real Sex: 9/11 Edition'?" (we have been watching "Real Sex" reruns on HBO and wow, that is some time capsule-worthy material, but that's for another post). With all the special programming such as "I Survived ... 9/11" and "Biography: Osama bin Laden" and "How It's Made: Ground Zero," you start to expect to see specials like "Sandra Lee's Ultimate Guide to Terror Attack-Commemoration Table Settings." But that got me thinking, a "Real Sex" episode filmed in the immediate months after 9/11 sure would be informative. I reckon there were a lot of self-destructive decisions being made, driven by guilt about surviving and the emotional abandon that follows the realization that sometimes, survival is probabilistic, and not something that is necessarily granted to the strongest, or bravest, or kindest, or humblest, or ... worthiest.

Dig deep but don't dig too deep
When it's late you'll see the hole is empty and oh so deadly
They want me raw and smooth like glass
They want it fast but they don't want flaws
I'm a girl's best friend
Can you cut, I can cut, 'cause I'm a rough gem

Point/Counterpoint (AKA "Tempeh Tampon")

First, you got this:



And then, this:



Delia is fucking rad.

I am not a Californian.

In the last six months, I've gotten three parking tickets (for not being able to read signs that indicate when and for how long you can park on the street). Basically, I suck as a car owner. Please may I go back to NYC?

We washed our mouths at the riverbed
When we noticed something glowing
And it was growing
Things are going to change
A hard rain falls, made of magma
Melts Alaska
And in icy Argentine they say now I've seen it all
Who knew? Volcanoes!

Currently obsessed with figuring out if I have the chops to retrofit a Western Electric 500 or Princess phone to work with VOIP. Already have ruled out anything with rotary dials. Hm. Also, why do Kartell garbage bins sell for $60? And why does no one make anything as simple and functional any longer?

The main criticism I have is the sensationalist page tag or meta-title or whatever these things are called in web-ese:

Osama bin Laden: He Died a Fool and Has No Legacy, Says Dana Vachon

News Of The World

So, I was going to be all, "Guess what? We're moving for the third time in six months!" until some government entity went and waged a covert operation and done killed Osama bin Laden. Talk about hogging the spotlight.

Also re. Franzen: I find that I strongly identify with multiple characters in his books. That's difficult to accomplish, judging by how singular characters tend to be in so many novels, even ones that I enjoy. I so love how the economy of Franzen's language is, for me, inversely proportional to the level of understanding about a person it achieves and the recognition it evokes.

What I love about Franzen, among many others, is how well he writes about disappointment.

We are, once again, embarking on a housing search. Here is my five-words-or-less assessment of the Temescal neighborhood in Oakland: Where The Gays/Artists Are, 2011. You know what I'm talking about, right? The formerly "urban" neighborhood, filled with amazing _____s [insert type of housing structure, something of architectural significance, something that makes a person wax nostalgic for bygone eras and/or class divisions---e.g., gingerbread Victorian; split-level ranch home; pre-war grand dame; row house; former industrial warehouse; former tenement; former plantation], first discovered by the gays/bohemians (who are always the gentrifying pioneers), that's now a little enclave of rehabbed real estate with exorbitant prices even though just across the street it's totally shady? Yeah, that's Temescal. That is so Temescal.

I know what we're doing for Easter Sunday!

Here is the printed description of event at Tilden Park:

CHICKY CHICKENS
LITTLE FARM OPEN HOUSE
RABBIT RENDEZVOUS

Yeah!

After getting knocked up, I of course quit drinking for enough time that after giving birth, half a glass of wine would, well, knock me out completely, to the extent that I really wasn't able to enjoy the wine at all. Like, I'd be asleep before I finished my supper. It was kind of pathetic and I didn't think it was worth the half glass of wine, particularly as I was still working and in need of every faculty I could muster after being a full-time milkmaid. (Not that I wasn't secretly slightly nostalgic when my kid basically weaned himself and never looked back. But that's a topic for ... never. Not that I wouldn't love to talk about it, but I respect your boundaries and all.)

However! Now that that I am a full-time parent, it turns out that I have plenty of time and reason to enjoy a cocktail or three as soon as the 5 o'clock hour strikes, and suddenly, before I could even say "Hello, 1998 to 2006!", my tolerance is way up again! Ironic that being a parent does that to you. I mean, me.

One chapter in and I already am in love with Freedom.

Parenting Fail

Took the kid to Habitot for the morning, in the hopes of creating enough of a diversion to prevent a recurrence of the defeat I suffered yesterday at the hands of a suddenly defiant and loophole-finding toddler, who has figured out, for example, that if he claims he needs to potty and can manage to squeeze out just one drop of pee, he technically is due a chocolate-covered blueberry reward; also, that if he says he is thirsty (what mother would deny her child water or milk, after all?), he will probably acquire a vessel of liquid that can be poured or spit out onto a computer.

What actually happened is that Habitot was so overrun with children and their annoying parents or mean-looking Tibetan nannies (must be some sort of tribal vibe I'm picking up on? because those ladies are tough and scary, especially when there's a clan of them that you see everywhere around town, ruling the playgrounds, &c.)---it being spring break week---that I had a panic attack and had to leave.

Fuck.

All I can say with certainty is ...

Number 2 is my Number 1. Also: Awww ... we almost bought the vinyl box set last weekend.

To clarify, what I mean is: Does it seem like even organized crime in California is somewhat ... lame? Like, what would Luc Sante write about if he were a Californian? Stuff like this, is my guess.

To add to the list of truly awful brands: Ecorotic Sex Toys. Because eco-plus-anything is a winner in the SF Bay Area.

Wherein I Ask: Why Me?

Recycling fraud: Big business in California.

[via Curbed SF]

Not The Werner We're Fans Of

I knew a restaurant named "Cafe Gratitude" warranted suspicion.

What is so downright perplexing is that the young now seem so much more severely serious than the old. Even so much more conservative in a special sense---the sense of honoring and cherishing the very best that's in them---like sincerity, openness, honesty and love. While the middle-aged so often express cynicism and self-disappointment.

There is, sadly, perhaps something very American about all this. Americans have always had a certain knack of being young. We know how. Up to a point. Then, the older we get chronologically, the greater and more apparent becomes the difference between our ages and our maturity. Emotional maturity in the average American adult---so says the joke---arrives at age 29. And lasts for an hour and twenty-seven minutes.

[From the album cover for The Graduate (Original Soundtrack Recording), Columbia Masterworks, Columbia Records/CBS Inc.]

A key reason I think Berkeley (it could be the SF Bay Area or N. California or even all of California, but my examples are all from Berkeley) is lame is that it has businesses named such things as:

• The TranscenDENTIST
• Yoga To The People
• Cafe Gratitutde
• Crepevine

There really is no way to avoid looking like a jackass if you are using a tape roller to pick up all traces of debris in your car before installing the all-weather floormats.