Up in the Ass

If you haven't seen the movie and plan to, stop reading - spoiler alert.

First, I loved the movie. Who doesn't love watching Clooney being Clooney? And Jason Bateman is always great - more Bateman please. I liked how they made flying seem like fun, even though it's really a giant pain in the ass.

I really loved Vera Farmiga's character, Alex. She's smart, sexy, funny, adventurous, uninhibited, confident, and on top of all that, gorgeous.

*** spoiler alert ***

Then we find out she's a lying whore. Of course. She would have to be. No woman could be all that and not also be tragically flawed. Thanks, Hollywood. Fucked me in the ass again.

I could feel it coming and hoped so much that I was wrong. I knew there wouldn't be a fairy tale ending for her and Ryan, but did we have to make the interesting female lead a cheating ho-bag?

David pointed out that it's almost always the man that turns out to be the philandering douchebag and he's right. I suppose it's fair to make the female lead the asshole, it's just disappointing.

The "good" girl is shrill, uptight, arrogant, asexual, ignorant and someone I would love to slap in the face. It's a bummer that the "cool" woman in the movie turns out to be a shit bag and the "good" girl is an irritating bitch.

I don't know how else it could have been written to make her ultimately unavailable to Ryan, the little boy lost, and to be fair, he never asked her about her situation. He either assumed she was single or wasn't interested in really knowing her - but that seems hollow when it comes time to go to his sister's wedding.

If you're just banging a guy between flights and then one day he asks you to go with him to his sister's wedding, that seems like the right time to say something like, "I don't want to be a downer, but you should know I'm married and I have fifteen kids."

At that moment, she, being the smart woman she is, should have realized they were not on the same page. And if she's not wearing a ring or slipping away to take phone calls in private, why would he ever imagine she could be married? She seems just like him but as she said, "with a vagina." He's got a fair position in assuming she was unattached. Naive maybe, but fair.

So not only do we get to see an interesting female character turn out to be an asshole, we get to see marriage treated like it usually is in the movies - the drudgery of real life, the thing that needs to be escaped. How original.

It was a good movie, but I don't think it was a "great" movie or the "best" movie. Up was far better, as was The Hurt Locker and Fantastic Mr. Fox. I'd even put The Hangover above it, just for Mike Tyson alone.

The best thing about it was the powerful but dark reality of getting canned and having to start all over, even if it's almost time to start planning to retire, and asking yourself "what am I doing with my life?" So, it's got that going for it, which is nice.

Lamesurance

[Graphic courtesy of Ms. Crafty - thank you! I'd explain what it means, but it's a long story. A select few will understand its meaning in relation to this post. For the rest, just enjoy the cute, lumbering blue whale that can't seem to not bash itself in the head repeatedly.]

So, I know my story is nothing compared to what many people are dealing with, but I thought it was worth mentioning as another example of how "regular folks" are affected by the lack of affordable coverage for basic care.

Some would say I'm far from regular, but I disagree. I get lots of fiber.

When we got back from Canaduh I signed up for a basic plan from a provider, the name of which rhymes with Flue Yield of Palifornia. Seemed like a good plan that would let me see a doctor if I needed to but not cost a fortune every month. My premium is about $135/month and the deductible is $2,900 per year.

I saw the Caribbean Gyno for an annual exam and had no co-pay. That was cool. The doc wrote me two referrals, one for a mammogram (haven't had one in three years) and an ultrasound to look at one of my ovaries, the one that explodes like a super nova every few months.

She was very helpful, explaining when to schedule the ultrasound during my cycle to ensure the best results and said I could likely get both tests scheduled on the same day. I went away happy to have such a proactive doctor helping me out with my Lady Parts.

Later that week I got everything scheduled - same day, perfectly timed - and felt great about getting that taken care of. Neither test is pleasant, but I was actually excited to find out what might be going on with the ovary. If that thing blows up again, I'm going to take it out myself.

The day before my appointments I got a cryptic phone message from someone at USCF. I called back the next morning and spoke to a friendly guy who explained to me that because my deductible is $2,900, they'd be charging me $700 for the mammogram and $1,500 for the ultrasound.

I thanked him very much for the information and told him I'd be canceling my appointments for the day. I forgot about that big ol' deductible... When my annual exam was covered, I guess I didn't realize the tests the doctor had ordered wouldn't be. Actually, I don't know if my annual exam IS covered... I might get a bill for that at some point.

If I were working full-time or more consistently, I could probably afford $2,200 for standard tests or just buy a better plan that covers them.

The silly thing is, if there is something wrong that requires major care down the road, the insurance company will likely pay out way more $$ than they would if the problem was found (and fixed) much earlier. i.e., If they covered the tests I need now, they'd probably save money in the long run.

But hey, as someone recently said, health insurance is not a right - you get what you can afford. If all I can afford is a plan that prevents bankruptcy, then that's what I get. But I'm paying $135/month, and all that buys me is one annual doctor's appointment and $10 generic drugs? Really?

I would love to see health insurance reform that makes the entire process completely transparent. I want price lists posted on doctors' websites like you'd see for auto mechanics. I would love to see independent audits that keep everyone honest.

The goal now is to work harder at making good money so I can afford the kind of coverage I want. The American way, right? While I'm busting my ass to afford a better plan, Flue Yield of Palifornia will clear another 8 Billion - BILLION - dollars (or more) this year. Billion with a B.

Ads That Fail

A minor thing, but it's irritating the sh*t out of me. I present the following:

The Wells Fargo billboards with the copy, "With you when you have questions." The words they chose to underline? "With you when" Wouldn't the better emphasis be "With you"? We're with you. Regardless. All the time. Always. With you when? I'm not sure - when? Where? Lame.

Next, Kaiser Permanente's billboard promoting fitness/getting outdoors, a nice photo of a trail in the woods with the copy: "Do tread on me" The word they emphasized? - "tread." Not "do," but "tread." Why not "Do tread on me"? Do it! Get off the couch and do it! Or just leave out "do" and make it "Tread on me." Lame.

Then there's the homegrown cable TV ad for a channel that provides info about local road trips. It's a computer animated piece that shows a road winding through a barren landscape, nothing on either side of it, and the road ends at a cartoony sign with the channel info.

So, not only is the "road trip" ad showing you absolutely nothing that might sell you on the idea of a road trip, let alone the idea of tuning into the channel for road trip info, the road DEAD ENDS in that barren landscape. Not at a lovely destination of some sort - beach, amusement park, vista point, mountain lodge or similar - just a barren, empty, wasteland of lame public access cable TV. FAIL.

Finally, the latest BMW ad showing a dufus holding an unlit light bulb in the dark. He's talking about how Americans are so responsible or something, but the bulb is UNLIT and he's standing IN THE DARK.

Not sure what a light bulb has to do with being responsible, except that it is a compact fluorescent bulb he's holding... But wouldn't it have been much more effective, nay, clever, to have the dufus hold a LIT light bulb? Wouldn't that be much more engaging, visually? Hello! Television!

Then, as he's talking about how BMW is committed to helping to lower emissions - I guess they're trying to be environmentally responsible - the room lights up with a million ginormous bulbs that are not CFLs. HILarious. FAIL.

Just wanted to get that off my chest.

The Douchebags

I'm renaming the incredibly lame show "The Doctors" to "The Douchebags." Who's producing this giant turd? It's some of the worst television I've ever seen.

It's not good bad TV like The Hills, it's just terrible, useless and maybe even harmful. (Some would argue the same about The Hills - totally fair.)

I tuned in today because they advertised "the four Fs women fear": Turning Fifty, Fatigue, Forgetfulness and Fat. I was interested in what they might have to say about fatigue.

First - lots of Fs today - the plastic surgeon douchebag (PSD) can't keep his smelly botoxed mouth shut for any length of time, even if they're talking about vaginal discharge. Even the ER douchebag and pediatrician douchebag know when to shut up for five minutes.

So, they're talking about turning 50 and the things we should do to age healthily, such as weight-bearing exercise for bone health. The PSD butts in to start explaining how as we age, our bones which were solid become like a honeycomb.

No one interrupted to correct him. Three other douchebag "doctors" sat there and said nothing. Then the gyno douchebag (GD) went on and on about how great it is to go through menopause and not have periods while we pop pharmaceuticals to rebuild bone.

Everything I've read about bone-building Rx's tells me they're not as great as they'd like you to believe - they might actually be harmful. They tell the body to build new bone, but the old bone that must be reabsorbed/removed is not. This makes the bone, which is naturally somewhat flexible, lose some of that flexibility and is more prone to breaking. Hello?! But the GD thinks it's fine to recommend we start popping prescriptions as soon as we turn 50. Excellent work.

There was absolutely no mention of working closely with a *qualified* doctor to manage hormone and/or bone health, no mention of nutrition or any supplements that could be beneficial. Just "go for a walk when you can and take bone-building Rx's." Fugging quacks - all of them.

When they got to Fatigue, they profiled a woman in her 40s who's been complaining of extreme fatigue for years. They followed her to an endocrinologist's office where the doctor explained all the tests she would run to try to figure out what was going on, but that all her symptoms may not have anything to do with thyroid.

???

That is so ridiculous I don't even know how to describe how ridiculous that is, especially when moments later the very same doctor said her test results came back as HYPOTHYROID and that SHE'S BEEN HYPOTHYROID FOR YEARS. What the brackafracka?

So, they show her in the doctor's office with the doc telling her all her symptoms may have nothing to do with thyroid, then later it's the PRIMARY CAUSE? Douchebags! What is the fricking point of that?

The *one* thing the endo douchebag (ED) mentioned that I found interesting was B12. The fatigued woman was very low on B vitamins, so it was recommended she eat red meat more often and/or take supplements. The woman said after she had a B12 shot she felt better right away.

In the past week I started supplementing with B12 and it might be helping. I've also had steak a couple of times in the last week and I'm feeling much better now than I have in weeks.

But I lost 40 minutes of my life to this stinking dung pile of a show. Not only is the show totally disorganized and a stupid free-for-all with PSD constantly chiming in about shit he knows nothing about, they give out ridiculously incomplete information and cannot spend a quality amount of time on any one topic because they have commercial breaks every 45 seconds.

They're making shitloads of money on advertising but they're not supplying any useful information. It's one giant popcorn fart after another. They should all be fired. As in, lit on fire fired.

It's Not The Heat

It's the cacophony.

It's gotta be age. It's gotta be getting older that's made me less tolerant of certain things, like bullshit, onions, and noise.

I don't remember being so annoyed by noise when I was younger. But I drank a lot in college, so there's much I don't remember.

All week it's been one noisy assault after another and I'm ready to buy a high-powered rifle.

There's a house next door that's been under renovation since before I got here last year. It looks perfectly fine from the outside, but they've been slowly tearing its insides apart and putting it back together, one screw at a time, for an entire year. They must charge by the month.

Most of the work has been fairly quiet - pickup trucks coming & going, large trucks delivering appliances, nothing too disruptive. Then this week began Monster Renovation Week!!!

On Monday they brought out a power washer to strip the old paint off the front steps. A power washer so loud, it sounded like they were in my house power washing the shower.

In the backyard, another guy was running the weed eater. This went on for hours. Around noontime I walked over to ask how much longer I would be without the ability to hear myself think.

Power Washer Guy claimed to not know English. He walked me to the backyard to talk to Weed Eater Guy. WEG translated and mercifully, PWG said he'd only need about 20 more minutes on the front steps. Then WEG said after that, they'd have to do the back deck. Fucking hell.

It's the decibels and the endless onslaught and the constant RAWRR of the generator as he revs it up and down. It echoes off of every other house on the street - it's everywhere and it never ends.

I get it - the guy has a job to do. But would it be the *worst* thing to WORK QUICKLY with the goddamm head-rattling machine? He was moving at a glacial pace, happy to power wash the goddamm stairs all goddamm day.

They finally finished about an hour later and I was able to relax. It was quiet for a while until people started to get home from work.

I guess because it usually rains all the time, whenever it's not raining, people flock outside to do yardwork while they can. Every day it's not raining. Every goddamm dry afternoon you hear the goddamm lawn mowers, weed eaters, hedge clippers and leaf blowers start up all over the goddamm neighborhood. They keep going until it's dark, about five hours later. Every goddamm day.

If you're trying to watch the news or listen to the radio while enjoying a cool evening breeze from an open window, forget it. Might as well throw some marbles into your blender & fire it up.

Day after day, it's been one noisy project after another. Wednesday morning's wake up call was at 7:30 a.m. with what sounded like boulders being pitched into a giant dumpster.

So, so, SO annoyed, I screamed out the window, "IT'S NOT EVEN 8 O'CLOCK YET!" and it went quiet. It stayed quiet until 8 a.m. on the dot, and then the boulder pitching began again.

Later when I went out to run errands I saw they were tearing off the old roof to replace it. Awesome.

We endured More Boulder Pitching Thursday and then this morning began Electric Nail Gun Friday. The best part? They had to use our power for the nail gun.

New Roofer Guy came over early this morning just before 8 a.m. to sheepishly ask if he could "borrow" some power for a few hours because they blew the circuit yesterday.

Feeling generous, I told him he'd have to ask our landlord downstairs. She's usually not up until after 9 or 10 on her day off, so I thought she'd enjoy an early start to her day. She must have said yes, because the nail gun was rat tat tatting moments later.

If it's not one neighbor it's another making all sorts of goddamm noise and I don't understand why they have to do it so goddamm often. Is it because hockey season is over?

Doctors Suck

Happened to catch this show on TV yesterday, Mystery Diagnosis, and it made me angry at doctors all over again.

Most seem totally unqualified to be doctors and not even fit to be plumbers. Plumbers are much more thorough about finding and fixing the problem.

Here's a fantastic example of how doctors FAIL, and at something so simple. So simple they should be slapped so hard in the mouth they forget they're doctors and go become janitors.

A woman in seemingly perfect health goes from a size 2 to a size 20 in a matter of a few months with most of the weight gain in her abdomen. She has numerous other symptoms I won't bother to list, but all are completely abnormal.

She sees doctor after doctor after doctor who cannot figure out what's wrong with her. For seven years this goes on as she tries everything she can think of to deal with her symptoms, hoping on every birthday and Christmas that by the next birthday or Christmas someone will help her.

Totally fed up she decides to take matters into her own hands and gets a hold of her medical records. She reads through all the tests and results to see her cortisol levels are WAY too high - ridiculously high. It was right there in her records, but NO ONE SAW IT. Or more accurately, no one bothered to read her goddamn records that were right there in her goddamn file.

She goes online and starts to research high levels of cortisol. In five minutes she diagnoses herself with Cushing's Syndrome.

Seven years. Seven years she tried to get one doctor, any doctor, to help her, and none of them could. Five minutes with her own file and she diagnosed the condition. She was a flight attendant. No medical background of any kind. Doctors - FAIL.

How hard would it have been for one doctor, in the dozens and dozens she saw, to take five minutes to read her lab tests? What colossal lame bags of shit.

So they're not all endocrine specialists - fine. But if the patients can use Google, can't the doctors? Too busy golfing and writing out useless prescriptions?

ARGH! Makes me so mad!

I have to wonder, if we're trusting these people with our lives, why don't we require all doctors to take annual refresher courses and certifying exams to remain practicing physicians? Fail the course and you're on probation until you learn it and pass the test. Can't pass it within a required timeline? You lose your license.

Even my mechanic has to take ongoing training to remain certified to work on my car, but my doctor can graduate med school, complete a residency, then not take another course or exam for 20 years and still remain qualified to do the job? Hardly.

Going OFF, Eh

I admit it, I can be an asshole when shit goes sideways - when something that should be easy and straightforward becomes a clusterfuck, I come unhinged.

Maybe it's age, maybe it's DNA, maybe it's winter - I'll never know. Maybe I should "work through my issues" or maybe it's OK not to accept bullshit.

As I mentioned to Rooty, maybe we shouldn't quietly turn a blind eye to incompetence or laziness. Maybe that's part of the problem - maybe too many people don't speak up and then there you are, drowning in mediocrity and lameness.

What I *do* know is that if a bank is holding my money, money they SAID would be available in 14 days and when I call today to find out what's going on I'm told it will actually be 21 DAYS, I'm not going to politely say "OK! Thanks so much!"

Kurt, a telephone rep at Coast Capital Savings and Hoard, was nice enough to talk me off the ledge, at one point arguing with me that HE didn't mistakenly tell me the hold on U.S. checks would be 14 days.

Yes Kurt, I know YOU didn't tell me such and in the future, it would be better to SIMPLY APOLOGIZE for the shoddy communication and FIX THE PROBLEM.

I should have looked at their website before opening an account. Any financial institution that puts a guy in a gorilla suit on the home page, or now, has the online "rep" playing with balloons or peeling potatoes should not be trusted with anyone's money.

In my defense, I was told TWICE by the SAME TELLER that there would be a 14-day hold on any U.S. checks I deposit. Still ridiculous in this day & age, but I can live with 14 days. But 21 days? Are you fucking KIDDING me?

What the FUCK takes 21 days? Is it Canada, too lazy to give a shit, or the U.S., unwilling to let the money leave the states? I DON'T CARE what the problem is. It shouldn't take anyone 21 days to clear a measly business check.

Or is it just Coast Capital Savings and Lies? Maybe it's time to find a bank that knows how to clear a check in an acceptable time frame. They can't ALL be this lame.

At any rate, I got what I wanted. Kurt now understands his colleagues are MISINFORMED and when you jack with someone's money, they're not going to chat with you calmly about it. Mr. Kurt sent a message to the branch to release the hold first thing in the morning.

They couldn't do it today, you see, because the branch is closed on Mondays. Yup - that's right. CLOSED on MONDAY. Because god forbid you might have BUSINESS to take care of on a WEEK DAY and need access to your bank.

The only reason I opened this account was because David has an account there. But guess what? There are other banks and I'm betting one of them has a more attractive U.S. check policy.

I honestly do think it's a combination of age and the DNA. I don't have time to waste on bullshit and I've been gifted some crazy genes. When the bullshit comes in contact with the DNA, bad things happen. Kind of like The Hulk, without all the green and expanding and raggedy short pants.

Combine that with a fucked up hold on my money and I can't be expected to mind my manners.

No Order Return Policy

(the old screen, soon to be replaced - cat sold separately)

As some readers might remember, I've had a little trouble finding a new fireplace screen here in BC. Because I'm such a wuss that I was looking for one in September, I was laughed out of Home Depot et al. "We don't carry those." "No one has those." No one.

But it was as if my screen was meant to find me when one day I noticed a tiny fireplace shop tucked into a strip mall just down the street. They sell all sorts of electric and gas fireplaces, mantles, tools - everything.

I stopped in a couple of weeks ago and saw no screens on display. The nice lady behind the desk said I could order one and it would be in the following Wednesday.

Usually I'd do a ton of research online and weigh the options of shipping charges & waiting vs. the time saved by getting it locally. But I was so happy to find the store and get it taken care of, I went ahead and ordered it.

When she finished charging my credit card and stapling my receipts together I asked about their return policy. You know, just in case it doesn't work out - it's nice to know what I'm getting into (or had just gotten into, having already paid for it).

She sheepishly said, "Well, I mean, I guess if something's wrong with it... but I know no one else is going to need that, so..." So... what? I can either return it or I can't - are there special circumstances I need to know about? She never did finish that sentence.

Being a fireplace store, wouldn't she be able to SELL the screen if I had to return it, it being a basic item one might expect to find in a FIREPLACE STORE? I let it go - it was highly unlikely I'd need to return it - I'd measured carefully and was certain it would work out fine.

When I relayed all this to David I told him I felt like returning it out of spite. Because she weaseled and said "I know no one else is going to need that." He told me that was maybe a little too harsh and he's probably right.

A week came and went, so the Friday after it was supposed to arrive I stopped in to pick it up. A different woman was behind the desk and she diligently tried to find a copy of my order.

When she couldn't find it, she explained that the other lady was out that day and she had organized all the boxes in the back, so she would have to come in and sort through it to find my order.

Really? She's the only one who can find my screen? Well, OK, if she's the only one who can do it, I'll come back tomorrow. Nope. She told me the lady would call me the next day to let me know if it was in.

I forgot all about it until this week when the weather turned dreary again. I phoned them up and got the same story. Only Lady #1 can sort through the boxes in the back and Lady #1 again was not there.

This is where the unfortunate DNA springs to life and I channel a little Charlotte. It's not pleasant and honestly I don't like becoming that person, but no one likes getting a bullshit runaround for something so simple. But, we left it on good terms with a promise from Lady #2 to call Lady #1 and get back to me immediately.

She came through as promised and told me Lady #1 hadn't answered any of the three calls she made and the owner didn't answer his phone either. She said she'd call me again first thing in the morning. Alrighty then.

She came through on that as well, putting Lady #1 on the phone to explain that she'd made a little mistake. She put my paperwork in the "done" pile and never placed the order. Did I still want her to order the screen? I reminded her that she'd already charged me for it. She giggled and said "I know!" Isn't it hilarious!? I told her I was in the middle of something and I'd call her back in a little while.

I went to eBay and found a much nicer screen for less money and bought it. I called Lady #1 back and asked her to refund the charge. She totally saved me the trouble of returning it!

What's funny about this, besides the hilariously poor customer service and the hysterical blooper of stealing my money, is that as soon as I signed the credit slip I felt like maybe I should have done some homework first. That maybe I'd just made a mistake.

That little voice - she's always right - she's just not LOUD enough sometimes. Or I'm just too stupid sometimes.

Oh SNAP

I'm not a hothead - really, I'm not. I talk a good game when I rant about things that annoy me, but I'm actually very even-tempered and easygoing. Seriously. Shut up and let me finish.

I get frustrated and annoyed like anyone, but I don't FLIP OUT on people like someone I'm related to ("it's in the DNA!!!"). I let most things go - laugh it off and make fun of it later, here.

But there are things that I just cannot ignore, things I find so egregious that have to be dealt with or I won't be able to live with myself. Like when you pay for a cup of coffee and they don't fill it all the way up.

The other day I bought myself a present and a friend said I HAD to snap a photo of it when it arrived and post it for all to enjoy. I was happy to oblige.

I was also happy to support such a great cause. I love what this woman has done and that proceeds are donated to Planned Parenthood in Palin's name. I wish I'd thought of it.

As I normally do, I posted my handiwork on Flickr and enjoyed the supportive comments that immediately popped up.

Then someone I don't know, someone who found my photostream through a mutual contact posted a comment disapproving of the language I had used in the photograph [?]. He also didn't understand a joke in one of the comments from a friend of mine - but, I let it go.

I posted an incredibly polite, considerate reply explaining that I did not agree with him - that as Spalding Gray would say, there are no bad words... and that we should all remember this is my photostream and everyone has the choice not to look at if they don't like it.

His response to that was to post a giant reply lecturing me on my use of foul language and that I absolutely should be the morality police and censor my content for the entire world.

I didn't let that go. I posted one more response, a stronger yet still considerate message reiterating my position and I even explained that his original post was fair, but something about it just got under my skin and that this may not be an appropriate use of the platform. It was a polite Thanks, But Please Move On.

I'm sure you can guess what happened next. Another huge reply with him going off - it was so long I didn't want to take that much time to read what I knew would only annoy me.

One nice thing about Flickr is that at any time, should you want to, you can block a user and prevent him/her from commenting on your photos.

CLICK!

Blocking him removed every comment he'd ever made on any photo. It was like he'd never existed. Harsh, maybe, but why in the world would I waste more time debating some stranger who showed no respect for me or my content in the first place? Life is too short.

Then he had the nerve to email me directly and scold me for blocking him. He also claimed to know what type of language I should be capable of using and that I was exploiting free speech.

I did not let that go. Can you believe the ego on this one? Well, you must know what I said to him, literally as well as in so many words - yes, a big Fuck YOU. To his credit, he seems to have respected my request to not contact me again. Even if he does, there will be no exchange.

It's perfectly fine to disagree with me - I enjoy a spirited exchange of ideas. But to lecture me and the world about a harmless photo was over the line. He missed the point entirely and instead of shutting up and moving on, went even further, into the land of Oh No You Di-int.

Had he taken the matter offline originally, that might have been different, but still, no one asked for opinions. Look at it or don't - it's a personal choice. I won't make it for others and I don't want it made for me.

Now, fill the cup all the way or give me a discount.

Muddled

I'm all muddled up. Lots of crap crowding my brain. It's been a weird week. Finding out not one, but two former classmates passed away recently, feeling extremely homesick already, yet still [trying to be] excited about the adventures to come.

I keep feeling like I want to be "home," back with my friends, family and my familiar routines. I want to buy orecchiette pasta at the Fruit Basket in Sonoma, because I doubt I'll ever find it here. "Orechetwhat?"

I want to go to a restaurant and have a choice of tequila other than [gag] Patron and [puke] Cuervo. I want to go out to dinner and not spend almost a hundred dollars on the stupidest thing ever invented - tapas, the greatest restaurant swindle of all time - and expensive wine that tastes only OK.

I want pretentiousness to be exterminated like the virus it is. I want the checker at Save On to be a little less frantic about chucking my groceries into bags like her hands are on fire and my food is made of gasoline. I want to wrap myself in a fleece cocoon and stay there for the next six months.

Everything is a little raw right now, but as Alan likes to remind me, this too, shall pass. On a more positive note, I finally started a personal project and made great progress on it. I'm excited about where that might lead. So, it's not all shit. Tomorrow should be better.

Ceramic Cooktops = Ass

To the inventor of the ceramic cooktop - you're an asshole. And you must love scrubbing things every day - sometimes twice a day if you're lucky. I hate your invention. You probably microwave everything.

Too afraid of a little gas-powered flame? Can't figure out how to control it with the big, controller knob? Think it's going to leap up and char your face off? It just might, if you get close enough. That's the fun factor.

More frightening to me than a big ol' gas burner on "high" is a cooktop glowing bright lava red like it's actually on fire.

But the thing that really irritates me is how EVERYTHING burns onto it, even water, requiring a vigorous scrubbing with a "safe" scrubbing thing, which is code for "it doesn't scrub for shit and you're going to work up a sweat trying to clean anything."

Every range should come with a personal scrubber monkey to keep the damn thing clean. Time to buy a grill.

Snarktacular Wednesday

I had to go up to Sonoma this evening for a "dusk shoot," which I never enjoy, because when "dusk" arrives, I should be at home in my sweats watching the news or enjoying post-news reruns whilst eating my dinner.

But because I have to go, I went, at the peak of rush hour. I anticipated bad traffic and left early. Early enough to stop and get a sandwich at Whole Foods - the easiest thing to eat while driving (and texting, changing CDs and painting my nails).

Why is making a sandwich so difficult? How is it that only one sandwich in ten is made according to the order? I either get the wrong bread, the wrong meat, the wrong toppings - something - something is always wrong.

Tonight it was the bread. Instead of sliced sourdough, they used a baguette. Maybe it's just my wussy mouth, but I can't eat a sandwich on a hard roll without tearing up the roof of my mouth. So irritating.

Also irritating? Peppered roast beef. Who came up with this stupid idea? All I could taste was pepper. Are these ideas hatched in a food lab staffed with heavy smokers?

At the shoot, the agent followed me around from room to room the entire time. Like a nervous puppy, he hovered behind me during every shot. I wanted to smack his nose with a lead pipe rolled up newspaper.

Not any better was the hovering stager who kept asking if I wanted to move anything. If I want to move it, I'll move it. See these things hanging off the ends of my arms? They allow me to pick shit up and move it somewhere else - it's fucking brilliant - watch me do it.

In one room she asked me if I'd heard of a guy - a photographer she's worked with before - you know, because at night they round up all the photographers all over the county and put us all in one big room where we can't get into any trouble.

I told her I hadn't, but what I *should* have said was, "Oh John, the guy who takes all the great photos of naked children? I love that guy's work!" She continued and said, "I've worked with him in the past - he's pretty good."

That's great. What am I supposed to do with this information? I left my random chitchat diary at home and I've nowhere to record this exchange. Have you heard of not loitering in the room where I'm working? It would be super awesome if you could move your ass the hell out of the way so I can finish up this job and get the eff home.

But hey, if you want to pay double for an evening shoot that won't make your generic house look any different than it would at 11am and follow me around like an anxious chihuahua, to each his own. Good luck to ya.

Peeved

Last night I was excited about having all day Saturday to focus on the kajillion things left to do for the move when I got a phone call.

Someone needs an urgent photo shoot - a test shoot to help sell a new contract. Greaaaaaaaaat. I called the agent and right from the start it was clear that she has a ginormous bug up her ass (in the shape of her own head). Not only is my Saturday going to be ruined, but now it's going to be ruined by a total asshole - even better.

We finally agreed on a time and while I was trying to get her to tell me the address, she asked me where I'm located. First, what the hell does that matter - is she planning on coming to my house to make me breakfast?

I tell her I'm in Alameda and she says, "Oh that's so far away!" The job is in Tiburon. I told her that's only about 30 minutes from me. "Oh no, that's at least 45 minutes." Again, who gives a shit? Is this really important?

Trying to lighten the mood, I told her it doesn't take that long if I'm driving. Then she says without any trace of humor whatsoever, "What are you driving, a helicopter?"

Yes, as a matter of fact, I have my own chopper and heliport here in my back yard. The neighbors hate me, but I think it's important to have options.

This agent is supposedly one of the wealthiest in the country, selling homes to celebrities and billionaires, and unfortunately, she's a humorless troll. She started asking me about equipment and how much time I could spend photographing this house, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

I suspect I'll get there and she'll immediately start telling me what to do and how to do it. And just like the other day when I couldn't hold my tongue, I'm not sure today will be any different. I couldn't care less about this house, its views, how much it's listing for or what she wants me to photograph. She can have a big giant poster print of my colon.

Had she been at least polite or in any way flexible about timing or not grilled me on where I live and how long it takes me to drive, she might have been in for great service, but right now, it's all I can do to not call and cancel.

But just like Cameron in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, I'll go, I'll go, I'll go, I'll go, because if I don't, she'll just keep calling me, and then I'll end up killing her with my tripod.

If she turns out to be just as shitty as she was on the phone, I'll quietly gather up my stuff and leave without saying a word, because all I care about is getting this move behind me and starting the next chapter far away from this bullshit.

Update:
She arrived over a half an hour late, which is funny considering how concerned she was about me being able to get there by 11am, and she lives five minutes away. Amazingly enough, she camped out in a small corner of the house and made numerous phone calls, allowing me to work without distraction.

Many times she mentioned that she has two chateaus in France. Two. Chateaus (or chateaux, if you want to be really frenchy about it). In France. She asked me if I could scale a 6-ft. tall property fence to get a better shot of the front of the house, to which I said I would not, but I would gladly ask the neighbors up the hill if I could use their deck. They weren't home, but I tried.

While trying to weakly explain a particular shot she wanted of the back of the house, I thought about pushing her down the stairs right into the pool, but I didn't want to spare the extra time. At ten after 1pm, I said I really had to get going, to which she quickly replied, "Oh I have to go, too, I have clients waiting for me..." She was probably very late, but who cares about time when you have two chateaus in France.

Wednesday Can Suck It

Eff you, piece-of-shit Wednesday and your crap ass antics. No one likes Wednesday - you're totally useless - just one more stupid day between the days that matter - Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Wednesday is a joke, and with stupid spelling to boot.

I figured you weren't going to be a great day, with David up at 3:30Am to head up to Vancouver. I was awake at 4AM wondering if I should get up or try to get back to sleep.

Opting for the latter, I laid awake pondering the potential changes to come, finally falling asleep about an hour later.

Up at 7 to feed the cats, I felt like crap, but at least I had some time to get caught up on things before heading up to Sonoma for a shoot.

I got in the car and began to pull away and realized something was very wrong. How I didn't see it when I walked out to the car is a mystery, but there was my right front tire, flat as pancake.

That would explain the low pressure it had a couple of days ago... Great. Now I'd definitely be late for my appointment and worse, would have to drive on that stupid donut until I could get to the tire shop.

Back into the house to change my clothes and get the latex gloves - maybe I could get it changed and make it up to Sonoma only a half hour late, which could work out OK since my client was running late.

Got the stupid thing changed, and once on the car, that donut really doesn't look at all safe to drive on. I decided Sonoma could wait. I drove, slowly, straight to the tire shop.

Thankfully they were able to fix it so I didn't have to pay for four new tires - and it only took them 90 minutes to do it. I was almost totally asleep in the shop when they finally came in to tell me it was ready.

Then at 3:30 I got to drive from Union City all the way to the Haight to take some pictures of a garden I didn't get yesterday because, between you and me, I didn't think it was worth the memory. I was wrong.

And now tomorrow I get to get up at the ass crack of dawn and shoot the job I had to cancel today, then race all the way back down to Milpenis for another job already booked. But, better to start early than finish late, right?

Crapatoa. Is it summer vacation yet?

Debating the Deranged

This weekend I went to a dinner party and while chewing a delicious bite of food, the person next to me asked me what I thought about gay marriage.

I told him I thought it was wonderful and long overdue. To that he said, "So you'd be OK with someone wanting to marry his dog?"

That wasn't the first time I'd heard that crock of shit. I'll never understand the ridiculous attempt to correlate two human beings wanting to marry one another with someone wanting to marry a pet. I politely said as much and to that he asked what I thought about polygamists. I said To each his own - it's none of my business.

There isn't anything new I can add to the argument supporting same-sex marriage. I want a free country where I'm free to live my life and other people are free to live theirs, though we seem to get farther and farther away from that ideal every day.

Same-sex marriage has absolutely no impact on my or anyone else's life except the two people who want to get married, so why does anyone else give half a shit whether they get married or not?

If your religion tells you it's wrong, that's your problem, end of story. But what I love about that is, Catholic priests have been molesting, raping and abusing kids for YEARS and they'll protect the perpetrators while being openly against same-sex marriage. Biggest crock of shit, EVER.

I'll never understand the opposition to something so fair and the almost total lack of evolved thinking. It's going to happen - it's simply a matter of time.

And I always have to wonder about those who are so publicly against it. I'm convinced they have stacks of gay porn strewn about 'in their closets' and under their beds. They're OK with taking it up the ass in private while the wife's out of town, but let a same-sex couple be a legal family? No way! Harder, Bob! More lube!

At any rate, someday maybe we can marry our pets, too. I've met many dogs who are finer people than most people.

No Vomiting Required

The other day I went on my "go see," as it could be called, to do a walkthrough of a property and think about how I might want to shoot it, but it was really a go-see for them - to look at my book to decide if I'm right for the job.

I was not. And while it's never any fun to lose work, I have to say, it was a relief. I can probably blame it on my horrific gaffe of leaving the last few pages of a portfolio empty. Those of you with art backgrounds are likely gasping at my rookie mistake, but I did not go to art school and have had no training in such things.

That said, this was billed as an informal walkthrough to look at the property and decide what we wanted to shoot and discuss scheduling, time of day, etc. And meet the homeowner.

I brought a book of samples so the agents and the homeowner could see a range of work, but it was not intended to be a formal presentation. I filled most of the pages of a very nice album with work I thought represented the best I had to show. The remaining pages will be filled when I have more work to put in them, but for now they're going to stay empty.

After a pleasant tour of the property with one of the agents, we gathered around the dining room table and made small talk while looking through marketing packages for other properties - all of which were full of terrible photos printed on crappy paper.

The homeowner, some "famous" artist and art-directing marketing dude, was telling a zany, HI-larious story about being at a party where he made a beeline for the host's bookshelf that had "sex books" on it, as he described them, to find out which books had the pages stuck together. Klassy.

He continued in some graphic detail about how those pages could become stuck together. Perhaps that was his way of reassuring us that *he* understood how that could happen, though I don't think the rest of us needed the explanation.

After our short trip back to 7th grade, the agents looked through my book and they all had very nice things to say about my work. Then an agent slid the book over to the homeowner and asked him if he wanted to take a look. He absent-mindedly replied “What? Sure…” and commenced flipping through the pages.

He flipped through all the photos and when he got to the empty pages, he looked up and asked me, “Is this yours?” Like I brought someone else’s book or he wasn’t just asked moments ago if he wanted to see MY work. I replied, Yes, it is, and staring right through me he said, with the gravity of a doctor delivering very bad news, “Don’t ever do this. Don’t ever leave blank pages in the book. Either fill them up or rip them out.”

He then smiled weakly and said he just wanted to help me out, to which I enthusiastically said, “Oh definitely – thank you very much!” What a nice way to be helped by someone who, just moments ago, explained to everyone how jacking off into a book might make the pages stick together.

I mean, it's nice to get input and I would love to have my work critiqued by a professional, but it just seemed out of place. Not only that, but if he's such a brilliant artist, can he not see that those empty pages represent future potential yet to be fulfilled? Was he confused when he turned the page and there were no more pretty pictures? He needs the back cover of the book to tell him the show's over?

I think I dodged a bullet by losing that project. Lord knows how many colossal blunders I'd have made while shooting that job, with him bivouacked in my colon the entire time to tell me about every single one. Thank you, Universe.

Click It or Suck It

Why does the government care if we wear seat belts or not? Isn't it my choice to hurtle my body through the windshield of my car if I want to? Why should I get a ticket for that? I thought this was a free country.

I actually prefer to wear my seat belt, but I don't think it's fair to force those less enlightened to buckle up if they don't want to. We have to give Darwin a chance, don't we? Otherwise, the gene pool just gets more shallow every day.

I see the stupid signs all over the Bay Area - enough. Bring back the travel or traffic info - something useful.

Also more useful - ticketing drivers who can't drive, belted or not. There are far more of those to pick off and they're much more dangerous, though they can serve a purpose. Bad drivers + unbelted drivers = culling of the herd.

Phoney Police

I keep hearing on the radio about the law going into effect July 1 that drivers must use a hands-free device if using the phone.

Last night KTVU did a story about it and included a segment from an Oakland cop saying the law would be strictly enforced - if they see a driver with a phone to their head, they'll absolutely ticket the driver.

Today while running errands I saw two Alameda County sheriffs driving in Alameda and both were yammering on cell phones plastered up to their ears.

One of them, while yakking away, made a lazy, illegal u-turn, then moments later, made an illegal left turn from the middle lane of traffic. What a great example, officer. Way to set the standard.

Bad Marketing

I drove by a store today called "Heller's For Children." Maybe the owner's name is Heller, but why not "Heller's Store for Kids," or "Heller's Children's Store," or pretty much any combination of words that don't sound just like "Hell is for Children."

Now I can't get that song out of my head and I have to wonder if the store name makes parents feel like they shouldn't shop there.

Today David told me about a restaurant in his neighborhood called "Cumin," except the colors they used in the sign make it look like "Cum In." Yum.

Here's a shout out to a group of high school kids who haven't yet learned that the big red hand at the stoplight means keep your ass on the curb while the cars drive by.

When you see the big red hand, that means stop, as in don't walk out into the street where the big rolling metal boxes will mow your stupid ass down, though if they do, the gene pool is that much better off.

I have *got* to start drinking decaf once in a while.

Qualified for Marriage?

Today I heard a news bit on the radio about the upcoming state Supreme Court hearing on gay marriage. The reporter played a snippet from a representative opposed to gay marriage who said that to be married you must be "qualified," and to "qualify" you must be a couple comprised of a man and a woman.

Now, I'm no rocket surgeon, but how in the hell does hetero orientation "qualify" you for marriage? That's all this idiot could say to back up his argument - that the key issue was "qualification," that it was a "privilege" to be married, and that qualification was dependent on one man and one woman.

Has this dipshit ever BEEN married? Doesn't he have any idea that where someone wants to put his penis has no bearing on whether or not he can be a productive marriage partner? I can think of a dozen other criteria more important to "qualify" someone for marriage other than sexual orientation.

As for the argument that gay marriage somehow isn't as productive for a family as traditional marriage, please explain to me how all those traditional divorces and traditional custody battles benefit the children? Maybe I'm just being dense. Go ahead and spell it out for me and speak slowly. And for the gay kids growing up in traditional families, they're supposed to be better off, is that right?

And how is marriage a privilege? David and I didn't lift a finger to earn this so-called privilege, but we did cough up the license fees. And I guess we stayed together for several years before getting hitched, which is only an option and not a requirement for marriage, as is staying together after the ceremony.

But a privilege? Really? Why would only hetero couples be granted the benefit of filing joint taxes or the special advantage of collecting crazy in-laws? And let's not forget the fun of divorcing - something very special, indeed, reserved for the privileged heteros.

Yes, what a giant crock of shit. Let's for sure protect this sacred privilege for the qualified few willing to spend the money and promise to sleep only with their spouses, even if sometimes some of those chosen few end up tapping their toes in public bathrooms in hopes of a little homo fun on the side. Yes, definitely.