Thursday, January 28, 2010

This could only happen the day before a job interview.

"It is good taste, and good taste alone, that possesses the power to sterilize and is always the first handicap to any creative functioning." --Salvador Dali

So if we're friends on facebook, you might have already seen the reports: my hair has recently suffered a bit of a mishap. And by 'mishap,' I mean, 'it's been dyed pink, and my colorist won't fix it for another week.' What exactly happened, you may ask? Well let's just say an inexperienced salon assistant shampooed my hair for approximately fifteen minutes in what turned out to be a sink full of red dye, and I emerged looking like beetroot and cotton candy had a love child on my head.

What makes all this even better? THIS HAPPENED THE NIGHT BEFORE MY FIRST JOB INTERVIEW. It couldn't have happened right before I went travelling on the road for two months. Or right after I quit my job and moved to London. No, it had to happen as soon as appearance mattered. Because that's how I roll. I like to throw obstacles in my path, and then trample them like so many bison on my cousin's teepee.
I pulled through okay, though. I did.  Because I'm a bison. Also because the temp agencies I interviewed with were awesome, and also because I exacted my revenge on the aforementioned assistant in the form of some minor bloodshed and a call to INS.*

In the meantime, I'm on a strict deep-conditioning diet enforced by my colorist, and I'll be returning to the salon for a fix sometime in the next week. So if anybody's around in the interim and looking for a rave partner, let me know. My only plans right now involve ripping my jeans, tattooing the Virgin on my arm, and convincing my new employers that I won't pack a shiv in my boots or show up drunk to work.*****

*Kidding, of course. I prefer psychological torture. Which is why I'm leaving threatening notes** on the door to the salon every night.
**Kidding, of course. I can't write in Cantonese. They're threatening illustrations.***
****Okay, not really.
*****At least until I've been hired.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

You want fame?

So my friend Rosie sent me this employment ad. It is, of course, the perfect job. Can you IMAGINE the fun? But get this: in addition to the cover letter and resume, I must include a joke. Did you hear that? A JOKE. I know. And sure, I've got jokes. I've got a couple involving raccoons. I've got about eighty involving quadraplegics. But somehow...I don't think that's what they're looking for. So I'm halted before I even begin. Someone! Quick! Give me a joke!

In other news: London Yelp is celebrating its one year anniversary next Tuesday. And where are they celebrating? MY OLD NEIGHBORHOOD IN LONDON. Yeah, I know. It kills me, too. They're doing an unofficial travelling dinner and pub crawl of ALL my old haunts. (Except for the pubs, Grampa. I didn't haunt those.) This makes me rejoice and ache in all the same spots.

Speaking of rejoicing and aching: the recent rain is making me photograph awful, sentimental things. Like leaves, and the houses across the street. I'm not kidding. Look:

I spent about fifteen minutes squatting on the sidewalk for these leaf photos. And all these people kept shuffling past me and without looking up I could tell they were all like, 'wtf, mate? That comes from a tree.' I was almost late to dinner at a girlfriend's house because of this blasted leaf. But I couldn't LEAVE it. It was too MUCH. Finally I took it with me, and I put it in my pocket even though it was all wet, and I gave it to my friend, and she promised to press it and I hope she does, because I love it.

And these houses! These are my neighbors! I took this from my living room WINDOW! Isn't that nuts? I swear these houses are more beautiful in the sun after the rain than any other time. But then, life in general is more beautiful in the sun after the rain than any other time. And this is why the rain needs to stop. Because I say crap like that when it's raining. And if it keeps thundering and crashing and doing all sorts of other wonderful things, you'll be seeing some awful poetry on here soon. And I apologize in advance.

Now for something legit from a real work of art (from which I got my blog title), Today I Wrote Nothing, an anthology of the works of Soviet absurdist Daniil Kharms--though apparently to even call him absurd is absurd, that's how good this guy was at redefining style--before he died in jail in the 40's for being...well...too 'strange' for the Soviets' tastes. Go fig:

The Meeting
      Now, one day, a man went to work, and on the way he met another man, who, having bought a loaf of Polish bread, was heading back home where he came from.
     And that's it, more or less.

Monday, January 18, 2010

On the many reasons you should hire me.

So I just spent several laborious hours updating my resume so that I can get some temp work while I'm here in San Francisco. I examined my tab settings and hanging indents, I leaded and kerned heaven out of the text to make it all fit neatly onto one page, and I checked and checked and checked again to make sure my verb tenses and punctuation and heading and text styles were consistent.  Finally satisfied that what I had before me was a full and flawless work, I hit 'send' to the temp agent with whom I'm in communication.

And then I realized that just two days ago I added my blog link to my email signature.

Oh, yes. I just sent my blog to a prospective employer. So that's awesome. Because if you come here, it looks like I play with toys all day. That is, when I'm not busy checking out my derriere in the mirror. So--just in case my possible temp company pays a visit here--I'd like to point out that in addition to these very edifying hobbies, I also enjoy the opera! At least I do when it's my friend performing, as in the below. And I also like live music! At least, when it's my friend's band and it's jazzy and funky and soul-y and super awesome and goosebump good. And sometimes, on Sunday afternoons, I go to barbeques and play pictionary and if you want, I'll show you how to draw 'walk like an Egyptian.' But I can't show you how to draw hippie hill, because that's harder. 

I should also point out that I was my high school valedictorian. And lest you think that just means I peaked young, I would also like you to know that I know the word for 'sea turtle' in sign language. That's right. Imagine how often that comes in handy. Also, just for a good time, I like to visit orphans and make them balloon animals. But don't ask me to make you one. Because that's not what they're for. Also, I am a WONDERFUL roommate. And I have mad skills in the kitchen. I can make complex things, like monkey bread. Offices LOVE monkey bread. You will, too, once I bring you some.

There you have it: I'm pretty much the most employable person you'll ever meet. So you don't have to bother scrolling down to check out the rest of my blog. This post really says it all.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Meet the Puritans

Today I would like to introduce you to some new friends of mine, the Puritans. They live in my roommates' dollhouse and you can tell they like to have a good time:

Mr. Puritan comes with a cell phone. He is a busy man with lots of business to do. He's also very stylish. Mrs. Puritan is busy, too, and her business is child-rearing. She wields her baby's bottle with nothing short of single-minded devotion.

Actually, it's pretty impressive that they have a child to rear given that they sleep in twin beds watched over by the kind-hearted gazes of Grandma and 'special' Uncle Johnny.

This is Baby Puritan, their lone offspring, who looks alarmingly like Grandma. She sleeps in the attic. This is perfect, since up here she can't possibly disturb any of the good times being had in the twin beds below.

I think we can all learn here.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

And you can paddle all around it in your big canoe.

Today a friend of mine sent me the following article: Fat Butts May Be Healthy. I can't imagine why he thought I'd find it of interest.  * admiring my backside in the mirror *

Do you want to see the view from where I'm living? You can see the mountains of MARIN from here. And today was all sexy and rainstormy out and when I went to move my car for street cleaning, I almost died of a heart attack from the view and had to run back inside for my camera and then back out into the still wet streets where I stood in the middle of the road and shot shot shot and fell in love with the towers of Golden Gate Bridge and the hills of the Presidio and the easter egg houses and I kept causing cars to pile up but that's okay because LOOK AT THAT VIEW!

What's even more mind-blowing is how awesome my roommates are. They're snuggly, they don't talk too much in the mornings, and they like to share their food. This is just the way I like my people.

(They come with two grown-ups, but they're slightly more elusive to photograph. Like elves.)

Living in the Richmond is great. I'm surprised at how much I'm loving it. In my past San Francisco life, I always thought of the Richmond as another city altogether: 'I can't meet you for dinner way out there, are you crazy?' But seriously. San Francisco is only 7 miles x 7 miles. NOTHING is way out there. And now I'm ten minutes from the Ocean, and I'm ten minutes from Golden Gate Bridge, and I'm a half hour from Union Square on that tricky tranny hot bus the 38 Geary. Things aren't inaccessible at ALL. And at my doorstep? HOLY AWESOME ASIAN FOOD, BATMAN. I've got Vietnamese noodles, Korean bbq, tofu houses, Thai, and sushi sushi oh the sushi. There's also an interesting Russian and Irish population, which would be great if I were into pubs or the Russian Orthodox Church. Which I'm totally not, Grampa. Either one. And there's also Tommy's Mexican, the most famous margarita bar in the world, which would be great if I were into smooth and flawless tequilas. Which I'm totally not, Grampa. Tequila comes from the plant of the devil, the cactus. I go to Tommy's for the enchiladas. And the free chips and salsa so fiery my nose runs.

Oh, and the best part of living where I am? Golden Gate Park is RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET. Literally. ACROSS THE STREET. I'm within walking distance of the California Academy of Science, and the Conservatory of Flowers, and the Japanese Tea Gardens, and if I was prone to sleep-walking, I could easily stumble right into Stowe Lake, which I am determined to paddle around in one of those rentable paddle boats if I can ever find somebody to do it with me. Or maybe I should just go out and paddle alone, in one giant circle like a one-legged duck.

Alright, I'm gonna go now...the babas are in bed and the house is still and quiet and I think I'll go curl up with a book* and a mug of tea.

*I'm lying to you. I just got my Glee disc in the mail today and I'm totally going to zone out on it and re-wind all the singing and dancing scenes to watch them over and over again, just like I did the first time I watched Dirty Dancing and the final dance gave me goosebumps and I had to see the look of shock and awe on the father's face over and over again. I'll read later, like at bedtime.**

**I'm lying to you again. I'll turn on my lamp and open my book as though I'm GOING to read, and then I'll fall asleep before I can even find my spot on the page. Then I'll wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and my book will fall off the edge of the bed except toward the wall-side not the open-side and I'll be like, 'SON OF A!' and then I'll have to lean over to get it and then I'll whack my head against the wall and get all mad and so by the time my fingers fumble and find it and pull it out, I've vowed never to read in bed again. Until the next night, which will be different.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Oh sweet city mine.

I am so excited to be here. My new blog, San Francisco, writing, taking pictures. It's hard to believe it's already been three weeks since my arrival. The city has changed so much since I left, and yet remains exactly the same: fantastic, beautiful, crazy crazy crazy, and so full of so many people I love that I feel like my heart will burst out of my chest. Last Friday I saw an old friend at the California Academy of Science (another new thing that happened while I was in London! And it's got a PLANETARIUM! And a RAINFOREST! And an AQUARIUM! With SEA MONSTERS in it!). She was already in the museum and I was in line when we spotted each other. We were both shrieking and jumping up and down from our respective sides of the glass doors when the lobby guards finally gave up and shooed me through the line, opening the door before me to sprint into the museum and into her arms. The force of our hug nearly spun us around, and not a word of our babbling made sense nor mattered. We were together again.

This is what it's like being back in San Francisco.

I'm off now to assist in a friend's kitchen making The World's Greatest Chutney. Then maybe when I'm done, I'll take a wander through Union Square to see the windows full of beautiful things and hear the humming of the cable car lines and maybe I'll even stop in a shop to touch a book or a scarf. Then it will be time to return home, to the fog and the tea and a good friend. And then tonight, it's Katy Time.

I'm back.